Memories in the Panlake

By Muammar Mansor

“Nina,” whispered Greg. “We shouldn’t be out here at night.”

“Go home, Greg. I never asked you to come.” She walked on, the water continuously lapping around her ankles.

“If Mum finds out, we’ll be in huge trouble.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she won’t find out, isn’t it?” She spun around and glared at her little brother. Greg met her gaze for a second before averting his eyes. He rubbed his head, like he always did when he was anxious.

“Look, the sooner we find it, the sooner we can go home, okay?”

The truth was, she also felt a bit nervous. She could already see the orange-red hue from the setting summer sun. At this rate, they probably wouldn’t make it back to their guesthouse by nightfall. She would never admit it to him, but she was glad he had come. She didn’t want to be out in the Panlake alone after dark.

The Panlake. Brilliant blue water stretching as far as the eye can see. It had a sort of mystic allure as it only filled up a few months every year, remaining a barren wasteland for the rest of the seasons. The water only rose to ankle-deep, never varying by more than a foot throughout its vast expanse, due to its flat pan-shaped surface. Hence the name: Panlake. Nina, Greg, and their parents used to come every summer. Nina especially loved walking across, feeling the cooling sensation on her feet contrasting with the hot summer heat. Dad used to tell stories of battles fought and treasures stored somewhere on the lake whenever they went on one of their walks. She missed his stories dearly.

This afternoon, Nina had been trying to float on the water while playing catch with her favorite blue ball. She used to do it easily, but ever since her growth spurt, it was a challenge to stay afloat in the shallow water. She’d left as Mum called her in for snacks, leaving her ball by the front porch. When she came back, the ball was gone. She asked everyone around if they had seen it, her heart beating more rapidly every time she heard a no. Eventually, someone said they saw a blue ball floating on the lake.

The wind must have taken it to the center. No.

“Nina, it is gone,” said Mum exasperatedly.

“You don’t understand. You never understand! It’s important!” Nina bolted outside, letting the porch door slam behind her.

And now here she was. With Greg. Looking for her ball on the vast expanse of the Panlake in the fading light of the setting sun. Like a detective, she thought she could figure out where the ball went by tracking the water flow. It was fanciful of her.

“Ninaaaa,” whined Greg. “I can’t see anything anymore. Let’s turn back.”

He was right of course. The sun had fallen behind the horizon. She could barely see Greg’s silhouette just a few meters away. “Let’s keep looking, just a bit more, okay?”

Greg, to his credit, kept following silently.

The wind blew in, churning the water. She was shivering now. She only had her swim pants and a light top on.

Splash.

Something sounded nearby.

“Greg? Is that you?” Nina turned around. Greg was no longer behind her.

She took a deep breath and counted a few seconds to calm herself down, as her teachers had told her in case of emergencies. It didn’t work.

“Greg!” Panic welled up within her. She would kill herself if anything happened to him because of her stubbornness. “Greg!”

“Over here!” A reply came somewhere from her right side.

Oh, thank God.

“Come see this.”

She rushed toward his voice. They must have been walking to the eastern shore, for she saw the outlines of mangrove trees that only grew there. Their gnarled trunks, branches, and roots gave the impression of a decrepit old man.

“Greg?” she whispered, staring at the trees.

“Under here.”

She followed the voice and could just see Greg’s legs jutting out underneath a huge mangrove. As she approached, his legs disappeared from view.

“Greg?”

“Down here, sis. You’ll want to see this.”

“What?”

No reply.

The trees seemed to close upon her. Small tendrils of wind cooled her to the spine. But she didn’t want to stand out here, alone. So, she stilled herself and crawled in after Greg.

Instead of a small alcove underneath the tree, she found a tunnel that rose up slightly, leaving it dry from the water. She crept for a few meters, rounded a bend, and saw light up ahead.

As the tunnel opened, a hand stretched out. She gasped, but it was only Greg’s, offering to help her. She pushed his hand away but regretted doing so almost immediately as she saw the hurt on Greg’s face. Unable to apologize, she instead peered around.

“Whoa. What is this place?”

They were in a room under the tree with walls and floors made of intertwining roots. A room loaded with treasure: swords, spears, armor, and treasure chests overflowing with little trinkets and jewels.

Dad’s stories were true.

Among the treasures, one stood out. A circular object in the corner—her blue ball. She picked it up, rotated it and was relieved to find the inscription from her Dad was still there.

To my fav daughter, with love.

As she hugged the ball close to her chest, she started to cry, with relief, joy, and sadness. Her Dad was gone. He would never come with them again to the Panlake, not after his sudden death a year ago. She would no longer hear his stories. But at least she still had his ball.

A soft hug enveloped her from behind.

“You still have me, sis,” said Greg. He must have seen the inscription too. Nina turned and returned the hug, tightly.

“You have me too, little brother.” She gave him a small kiss on his forehead.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Muammar Mansor is a new aspiring fiction writer. Scientist by day, writer by night, he aims to one day publish his own books and to become a fully-fledged author. His recent sci-fi A Report on the Europans won an honorable mention at the Astrobiology Science Conference creative writing competition. In his free time he likes to read books (of course), run Dungeons & Dragons sessions, and play with his cat.

---

Twitter