The Silence of the Lakeside
The air at the edge of the lake was always coldest just before the light broke over the horizon.
E.g. ：His mistress crashed our anniversary dinner, pregnant, and screamed, 'He's the father!'
- 1、The Silence of the Lakeside
- 2、The Ritual of the White Ribbon
- 3、A Voice from the Mist
- 4、The Impossible Encounter
- 5、The Secret of St. Jude’s
- 6、The Loop of Eternal Penance
Sister Martha gripped the wooden handle of the spade until her knuckles turned as white as her wimple.
She was a woman of God, but this morning, she felt entirely abandoned by the heavens.
The orphanage stood like a dark silhouette against the grey sky, its many windows watching her like hollow eyes.
She had spent twenty years at St. Jude’s, tending to the lost and the forgotten.
But she had never carried a burden as heavy as the one lying on the grass beside her.
It was a small bundle, no larger than a newborn, wrapped in the finest white lace the convent possessed.
A white silk ribbon was tied around it in a perfect, delicate bow.
Martha’s breath came in ragged puffs of steam that vanished into the thick fog rolling off the water.
She began to dig, the sound of the metal blade cutting through the sod echoing like a heartbeat.
The Ritual of the White Ribbon
Every strike of the shovel felt like a strike against her own soul.
She wasn't just burying an object; she was burying the evidence of a truth that could burn the orphanage to the ground.
The Mother Superior had told her that some secrets were too holy for the light of day.
Martha had been chosen for this task because of her soft heart and her unwavering loyalty.
She believed she was protecting the children, shielding them from a history they were never meant to inherit.
As the hole reached the required depth, she paused to wipe the sweat from her brow with a dirt-stained sleeve.
Her eyes fell on the bundle, and for a moment, she thought she saw it move.
She quickly dismissed the thought as a trick of the fading moonlight and the exhaustion in her bones.
Kneeling in the dirt, she lowered the lace-wrapped package into the cold, waiting earth.
"No one will ever find you," she whispered, her voice cracking with a mixture of grief and relief.
A Voice from the Mist
The sound of the first clod of dirt hitting the lace was the loudest thing Martha had ever heard.
She expected the silence of the lake to swallow the noise, but the world around her seemed to hold its breath.
Then, a soft rustle came from the tall grass behind her.
It wasn't the sound of an animal or the wind stirring the reeds.
It was the unmistakable sound of small feet stepping carefully through the mist.
"Mama, what are you doing?"
The voice was high, sweet, and vibrated with a terrifying innocence.
Martha’s heart didn't just race; it seemed to stop entirely, leaving a cold vacuum in her chest.
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She knew that voice better than her own prayers.
It was the voice of Elena, the seven-year-old girl who had been her shadow for the last three years.
But Elena was the reason Martha was standing over a grave at four in the morning.
The Impossible Encounter
Martha didn't want to turn around.
She feared that if she moved, the reality of the situation would shatter like glass.
But the girl called out again, her voice closer this time, filled with a gentle curiosity.
Slowly, Martha shifted her weight, her knees grinding into the gravel and mud.
She turned her entire body, her black habit trailing in the dirt like a wounded wing.
Standing five meters away, framed by the swirling white fog, was Elena.
The girl looked radiant, her long wavy blonde hair catching the first faint hint of blue light.
She wore her favorite white lace dress, the one Martha had spent hours mending after the accident.
Her hands were clasped at her sides, and her head was tilted slightly to the right, just as it always was when she was confused.
Most hauntingly, a white silk ribbon was tied neatly in her hair, identical to the one currently being covered by dirt in the pit.
The Secret of St. Jude’s
Martha looked down at the grave, then back at the girl, her mind spinning into a dark abyss.
She looked at her own hands, which were covered in the very soil she had used to hide the child’s remains.
"Elena?" Martha managed to gasp, the name feeling like a hot coal in her throat.
"You're working so hard, Mama," the girl said, taking a small step forward.
"Is that a gift for me?"
Martha’s eyes darted back to the bundle in the hole.
Through the thin layer of soil, a corner of the white lace was still visible, mocking her.
She remembered the fever, the cold sweat, and the moment Elena’s heart had finally given up.
She remembered the Mother Superior telling her that the "Old Blood" had to be returned to the earth so the "New Blood" could rise.
At the time, Martha thought it was a metaphor for grief and healing.
Now, looking at the girl standing before her, she realized it was a literal, terrifying instruction.
The Loop of Eternal Penance
The girl’s eyes weren't the eyes of a normal seven-year-old.
As the pre-dawn light grew stronger, Martha saw the faint, golden glow reflecting in Elena’s pupils.
"The others are waiting inside," Elena whispered, her smile widening just a fraction too far.
"But they told me I had to come find my new mother first."
Martha realized then that the bundle in the grave wasn't a body.
It was a cocoon, a discarded skin from a process that had been repeating at St. Jude’s for a century.
The orphanage wasn't a place for children to find homes; it was a harvest ground for something ancient that wore the faces of the innocent.
Every time a "daughter" died, a new one was pulled from the mist, and a "mother" was chosen to protect the secret.
Martha looked at the bundle one last time and realized she wasn't burying a child.
She was burying her own humanity to make room for the monster standing in front of her.
The high-pitched screech of a distant bird echoed over the lake, sounding exactly like a woman screaming.
Elena reached out a small, pale hand toward Martha.
"Don't be sad, Mama," the girl said.
"We have so many years together before you have to bury me again."
