Lindsey groaned, yanking the covers from her sleeping husband. Would Aaron ever stop snoring? The constant snorting and whistling was driving her mad. She was about to kick him when her eyes focused on the clock on the nightstand. It was just after 3 AM.
“Damn,” she cursed. In two hours the alarm would go off and Aaron would rise for his long trip into Boston. Sometimes she wished they’d never left the city for cow country up north. Before she had a chance to think about going downstairs to the sofa her feet were already on the move, pillow in hand. At least she could get a few hours in before she had to get up.
Grabbing the throw, she settled in, making due on the lumpy sofa. It was quiet down here, save for the banging of the radiators and the constant gurgling of the large fish tank on the opposite wall. The eerie reflection the algae cast always gave her pause. If Aaron would just clean it, she thought, perturbed. Supposedly he had, but he couldn’t get rid of the greenish tinge. The truth was it reminded her of her grandmother's house. The way the light played off the glass from the front window created creepy shadows and called to mind the nightmares of her childhood.
Silly, she thought and closed her eyes. If anything stirred her imagination it was the old drafty farmhouse with all its inherent creaks and moans. It interrupted the quiet solitude of country living and certainly wasn’t conducive to the relaxing lifestyle Lindsey thought they’d be living. Instead her nerves were on edge and had been since they moved in six weeks ago after Aaron’s grandfather’s estate had been settled following his death.
Lindsey turned her head away and took a few deep breaths, calming herself. After a while she relaxed, hearing only occasional snorts coming from upstairs. Her breathing slowed as she drifted off, but it wasn’t long before she was abruptly awakened by the sound of rushing water coming from the fish tank. It began to bubble and boil, churning and churning, turning crimson as it tried to pull her under.
Gasping, Lindsey bolted upright, clutching her chest as if to stop her heart from exploding. She quickly realized it was a dream, until she spotted the bulky figure coming at her from the adjoining dining room. It came in through the back window, floating as though on a cloud. Impossible! her mind screamed. She was fully awake now, a surge of adrenaline rushing through her veins. Lindsey tried to scream, but couldn’t utter a sound. She froze and the thing, more shadowy now, moved closer. She saw right through the shimmering mass, pale as smoke in the moonlight. Fighting for the courage to flee, she felt her legs turn to cement and could only watch in stupefied horror as the large form slowly approached, limping. Finally a small scream escaped her thin-pressed lips as the shadow faded less than a foot away. Gulping for air, Lindsey bolted off the couch. By some miracle her legs worked as she scrambled up the stairs.
Pausing in the doorway, trying to catch her breath, she sensed the unearthly presence was still with her though the immediate threat was gone. In the dim light from the double window she watched as Aaron slept peacefully. She wanted to wake him. Hell, she wanted to shake him as she started toward the bed, but something stopped her. It always did. What would she say? Would he believe her? Lindsey knew the answer as she glimpsed her own thin shadow on the dingy wall. She looked like a ghost herself with her long wavy hair fanning out behind her, tousled as if blown by a fiendish wind. The image frightened her and she rushed into bed, yanking the covers over her head. It was her grandmother’s house all over again.
That familiar sense of dread - she hadn’t felt it in years - was suddenly with her now. It wasn’t just the shadow or ghost, if that’s what it was. It was that goddamn fish tank. She wanted Aaron to take it down, but she hadn’t the nerve to ask him. He’d always had a tank, but this was a one-hundred-gallon tank similar to her grandmother’s. The only difference was Aaron kept four large docile fish rather than the piranhas her grandmother had kept.
“Lindsey, are you alright?” Aaron asked, suddenly waking. He rolled over and pulled her close. “You’re shaking!” he exclaimed, drawing her into his strong arms.
Lindsey buried her head in his big burly chest, feeling his warmth. “I’m okay now,” she whispered. “I - I must’ve had a bad dream.”
“Oh, go back to sleep, hon,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“Aaron, can you get rid of the fish tank?” she blurted. “Or maybe move it elsewhere. It’s kind of ah - an eyesore.”
“What? What’s wrong with it?” He yawned.
“I don’t like it on the wall next to the fireplace. It’s too prominent. Maybe you could put it … out of the way,” she suggested, not wanting to sound irrational.
“There aren’t many places I could put it,” he replied, his voice losing its sleepy edge. “Maybe by the stairs or. . .”
“No! Not there!” she yelled.
Aaron sat up on his elbows. “You must've dreamt about it. I know the tank needs more cleaning,” he whispered, stifling a yawn. “I'll try to get to it this weekend. But really, Lindsey, it’s not that scary. Go back to sleep,” he said, rolling over.
“Right,” Lindsey sighed, turning away from him. But he was wrong. Fish tanks can be very scary indeed.