Jenny From The Pond By Kizurial (aka JayDee)
Disclaimer: I do not own the folklore tradition of Jenny Greenteeth, nor any of the characters associated with that tradition. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Flashfic written in reply to prompt, 'Drowsy'
Zach sold the idea of taking a year out before college to go backpacking in Europe to his wealthy parents with the promise of gaining knowledge, experience and extra maturity. He claimed it would put him in a stronger position to continue the long scholarship which would eventually see him join his Mother's law firm. His parents were smart enough to see through most of the bullshit, but reasoned he was sensible enough to avoid trouble and so paid his way. They were just glad he didn't want to pursue a soccer scholarship.
He travelled first from Wyoming to Ireland and took in the sights of his family's ancestral Dublin. He'd done a little backpacking out of the city, but with Manchester United playing in a home game, he soon left for Britain. Zach had been fan since he was a kid as United were the team everybody at Soccer practice talked about. Their parents would have assumed that Arsenal in a sports context was a uniquely British sexual offence, not a team.
And that was indirectly how, two weeks into his trip, he found himself deep in the heart of rural Lancashire. Most of his countrymen would have happily skipped the region in favour of 'Shakespeare country' or even 'Brontë Country' but high on the three balls smashed past Newcastle, Zach went hiking for a few days in the August sunshine.
His guidebook directed him to a ruined village, abandoned at the turn of the previous century. It said the rough stone buildings were mostly reduced to a series of walls, with a few exceptions. The whole area was maintained by a British nature conservation trust as a park, and open to visitors.
The book raved about the tranquillity of the decayed buildings and cobbled streets around the old village pond. The park was a long walk from his previous accommodation, made much tougher by the mercilessly hot sun beating down. Zach regretted booking that night's bed at an Inn on the other side of the park, as it had required bringing everything on the hike. The bells of a distant church sounded mid-day as the exhausted backpacker finally hiked past a sun-bleached information sign announcing the ruined village. He recalled an old saying about Mad Dogs and Englishmen, and privately added Irish-Americans to the list. A few sips from his tepid water bottle helped, but for half an hour, he had daydreamt of a refreshing dip in cool pond water. He stifled a yawn as he followed the path to the centre of the abandoned village.
"God Damn it!"
He hadn't spoken all morning, save mutterings at the map, but his sudden expletive rather shattered the tranquillity. The pond was there before him, but the water was so thick with pond weed and floating algae that an unwary man might try walking right across it. There was nothing appealing about dipping his legs into green filth. He imagined the foetid stagnant water would stink for days.
At least the grass bank looked inviting so he slipped his backpack off and sat down at the water's edge. He rested his hat over his face to block the harsh sun, and lay back upon the ground. He guessed the trust's sheep had grazed the grass comfortably short. He was so drowsy he thought he might sleep for hours. The place certainly deserved its tranquil reputation, and he had no idea at all he wasn't alone.
Jenny Greenteeth peered at the hiker through the thick green weed that roofed her home. She had lived there years, enjoying whichever lone morsel of the old village was foolish enough not to heed their elder's warnings about dangerous water. She couldn't leave the pond, but as long as she lived there, the pond would never dry. When the village was abandoned Jenny slept in the bottle green darkness. She woke sometimes to take the occasional thirsting animal, and awoke properly when the visitors started to come.
She could go many years without a meal, but even her unholy constitution needed sustenance beyond what the pond naturally provided. Too many of the visitors came in confident groups, too many brought children who listened when their parents warned 'cold water kills,' and all unconsciously stayed safely away from the bank. The surface scum rippled gently as she swam towards the near dozing man. Her long sinewy limbs ended in clawed fingers and toes, and as she licked her widely smiling lips a tongue as black as the pond's bottom ran across sharp teeth of mottled green.
Zach lay oblivious upon the grass. He would have given into his drowsy feelings and slept, but for a small stone corner that prodded insistently into his back. No matter how he shifted, it kept poking, 'til he sat up irritably and worked at it with his fingers. He fought against his own blinking eyes, and with another yawn, quickly found the stone to be larger than he thought. It took almost a minute to work loose a broken corner of carved masonry. He hefted the weight, and twisted to throw it out into the middle of the pond. At the same moment, Jenny broke surface reaching for his ankles.
"Oh shit! I wasn't stealing it!"
He dropped the stone in his hurry to scramble back. Jenny's claws missed him by frustrating inches, closing on empty air. She snarled, showing her razor-sharp namesake. The pleasant drowsy feeling had been replaced with literally pants-wetting terror as Zach looked upon the creature half-submerged before him. Pond weed clung to her outstretched arms, wrinkled breasts and matted her hair. He left his backpack and fled; terrified she would chase him and drag him below. They told stories back in school about what the Yellowstone rangers did if you stole. Clearly the Brits took it a lot further – and he hadn't even intended to steal!
Jenny sank hungrily beneath the surface and hoped for a visitor less blessed with luck.
End.
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