Barnacle Bay 

By Dani Brown 

 

 

Peacocks screamed at the night. Their hens roosted in stunted trees growing out of broken concrete. Ice cold fog kissed their tail feathers and licked deformed leaves from the trees.  

Orange lights danced in the darkness, twisting and swaying over old bricks, broken concrete and parting fog. One lingered over a shattered baby doll rejected by the elements.  

Before Jessica could take out her phone, the light zoomed off. She used the torch to find the broken baby doll. Its eyelids, the ones that close when the child holds the doll flat, were missing.  

“I had one of these,” she whispered into the wind.  

The peacocks screamed back.  The wind twisted through deflated balloons caught in the stripping branches. A shrill cry sounded out in the air to compete with peacock screams.  

She held the doll to her chest. Wind pulled her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Something sharp scraped her palm. It was all the confirmation she needed that she should go home and get a real job.  

“Fuck,” but she said it under her breath quiet enough so the wind couldn’t carry it to Michael.  

Naked branches scraped against concrete. Deflated balloons caught the wind, only to let it out in a series of shrill sounds. The peacocks objected to the noise with a series of screams. The wind came by to see if there were any more deformed leaves.  

Michael turned the headlights up bathing Jessica in brilliant white. The lingering orange orbs scattered.  

Jessica turned to him and held her palm up. Blood dripped down her wrist. She didn’t put down the doll but flipped it over and examined it in the high beams. Michael turned the engine off.  

“Hey, leave the lights on a minute,” she regretted the words as soon as she said them.  

“But, honey, it’ll kill the battery.” 

His voice had a particular whine to it that said the unsaid, I’m the man and I know better than you. I’m middle class and you have a trust fund. I know the struggle is real. You are a sheltered Princess outside of her castle.  

“Just for a minute,” she replied, trying to keep her voice calm, “I’ve cut my hand.”  

“Well, if you listened to me, you wouldn’t have cut your hand.”  

Jessica thought better of responding to that.  

“Honey, can I please have the first aid kit?” 

Mama. The wind twisted through those balloons again, but the shrill sound-off couldn’t drown out a second Mama. This one louder than the first.  

“What was that,” Michael asked.  

“A doll I found.” 

Her hand throbbed. A red ball rolled into the path of the high beams with a blinding shine. Waves crashed on the shore below. 

“Bullshit. Everything out here is broken and old. Don’t lie to me woman.”  

Jessica cringed at his anger. It was always there, bubbling below the surface. The ball hit her ankle and proved that his point was nothing more than lies.  

Mama.  

Jessica flipped the doll back over. It wasn’t one of those speaking dolls and even if it was, it had been left to the elements for too long.  

The shadows shifted as Michael stepped out of the driver’s seat and slammed the car door shut.  

Mama. Empty unblinking eyes stared at her. Mama. The soft bits of doll’s body leaked decades of grubby moisture down her wrist.  

Jessica turned to watch him. He stepped closer to her with his (her) camera held out. His persona changed while the camera rolled to the point he was almost pleasant to be around.  

“This is interesting, we’re at the Barnacle Bay Lido where the teacher drowned her entire class forty years ago and Jessica has found something.” 

He paused his filming and snatched the doll. Barnacles strung themselves along between Jessica’s hand and the doll’s underside. Each pull from Michael brought a fresh wince that Jessica knew better than to express.  

“You need to look scared, this is going to be our big break,” he told her with a wink and gapped tooth smile.  

He held the doll over her head, not noticing the barnacles sucking salt and moisture out of the air to reinflate. Mama. Mama. Mama.  

Peacock screams cut through the doll’s distorted voice. The ball shifted away from her foot and hurled towards him. 

“Goddamnit Jessica, that should have been on film.”  

He stamped his feet. Maammaaa. The ball twisted around his ankles. His foot came down and he fell backward.  

Michael regained his balance without falling on to the Lido’s debris.  

“You’re costing us money. We’re one week away from eviction.”  

Orange orbs reflected in the eyes of the peahens. The cocks weren’t happy their wives were woken up and expressed this with a hiss. The wind twisted around those deflated balloons again. 

Michael raised his hand.  

“Look scared, bitch.”  

Jessica briefly turned to look at him before turning back to the doll.  

“The viewers want authenticity. If they wanted to watch acting, they’d see a film,” she tried to reason with him.  

Every podcast and video channel he dragged her along for the ride. Every single one was another failure. Every new topic. Every week he had a new obsession and another promise of a big break and he’d pay her back. He didn’t understand that they needed to consistently stick to the same topic and be authentic.  

“Don’t tell me what people want. I know these things. I’m very highly educated.”  

Jessica’s fingers hovered over long dead barnacles. They had a fresh layer of slime turning into glue. Penetrating outer shells pushed it into her skin.  

Orange orbs accumulated around a statue and lit it up as bright as a midsummer’s day. Long, white fingerbones held glowing orange lanterns above barnacles.  

Mama. The wind looped around and stole the mechanical voice.  Mama. The replacement came back more human-like. Mama. The barnacles breathed air and sucked in Jessica’s blood. Mama. That wasn’t the sound a doll makes. Maa-Mmaa.  

An orange orb zoomed past Jessica with a frantic chill. A cold from some unseen force squeezed grabbed her barnacle-free hand.  

Michael switched off the high beams, plunging the scene into darkness until the orange orbs turned their lighting up. The wind and doll died down for Jessica to listen to his angry growls. 

“We could be rich,” the wind carried his muttering with no need to twist the words, “if it weren’t for that stupid trust-fund bitch.”  

Orange orbs twisted around stunted trees. The cold unseen force pulled on Jessica’s hand while the doll flipped over in Jessica’s other hand.  

The barnacles cut deep. They fed. They breathed from the moisture and salt swirling around in the air.  

Cracking noises from broken shells filled the air and stole all other sounds. The barnacle-encrusted statue turned her head to Jessica and screamed. Some unseen force pulled barnacles from Jessica’s wrist, but they soon reattached and tried to eat her hand.  

The wind died down. Maaa-Mmmaaa. Children’s voices cried out forgotten nursery rhymes catching the deflated balloons.  

“Fuck, stupid, bitch,” Michael fumbled with the camera from the car. “Give me a chance to set up the audio recordings,” he said out loud as if the spirits trapped in at the Barnacle Bay Lido would obey.  

Fog licked Jessica’s legs. The wind retrieved the ball. The noises of tiny shells breaking cracked on the air as the statue raised its arm and pointed at Jessica’s ankles. Vampire barnacles climbed up her trainers before they attached themselves to bare skin.  

Children’s voices whispered from the fog. It's my mother. Fog shifted into the shape of a little girl with pigtails. She floated over and hugged the barnacle-encrusted statue.  

A peacock hopped off his perch. Mist cleared for him to put his tail on display. The hens screamed objections at him. An orange orb circled around to their stunted trees. The wind picked up and stole the bark, leaving behind only deflated balloons for that extra-shrill disorientating sound.  

Voices cried their forgotten nursery rhymes promising that when they woke, the children would have all the pretty horses. Mummy. Barnacles fell from the statue.  

Maa-Maa. The doll begged for Jessica’s attention. She tried to put it down, but the barnacles dug deeper into her skin. You belong to us now. They lapped at her ankles, suctioning her with their glue.  

The peacock turned showing off his feathers. My, my you are such a pretty boy. The nursery rhymes fell silent. The wind died down. Balloons deflated with a low-pitched final hiss.  

“What,” Michael asked.  

“I didn’t say anything,” Jessica winced.  

Barnacles climbed her leg and kissed her knee. Waves crashed on the shore below.  

The doll cried out in malfunctioning gibberish. The high beams flickered. Orange orbs retreated beyond the stunted trees. 

“I’m turning on my camera now, you need to play your part.” 

He seemed to have forgotten all about the high beams killing the battery.   

The wind picked up the beer on his breath and held it there. Driving while under an influence was an offence, but Jessica couldn’t tell him that.  

The peacock’s feather eyes blinked. The high beams flickered and came on with their full force. My, what a pretty boy. 

Jessica turned her face away from the camera. The lens picked up the blood dripping from her hand. Michael jumped out of the car again, with the handheld camera and zoomed in on her hand, ignoring the barnacles climbing up her leg.  

“Jessica has just been attacked.”  

The wind wouldn’t let him say it in real time, kicking up a fuss with those deflated balloons. Forgotten nursery rhymes climbed into just-shy-of-fever-pitch. Dead barnacles cracked as the statue moved her leg.  

If he voices it over, he’ll lose that supernatural sound. Michael didn’t have the patience to lift those noises and put them back on the footage.  

The other peacocks hopped off their roosts with their tail feathers on display. What such pretty boys. Wind twisted and braided Jessica’s limp blonde hair. It picked up the red ball and pitched it at Michael’s head.  

You aren’t welcome here. The warning came as a hiss and pushed him back. He fought and shoved the camera in her face. The real damage could be found on her leg or hand (for those that preferred blood).  

The peacocks turned around. The high beams reflected the stunted trees.  Jessica screamed and took a step back, tripping over her own feet. The barnacles dug themselves in and made her leg home.  

The statue took a step forward, shedding her outer shells along the way. Mama. The doll cried out. The children forgot their nursery rhymes.  

Michael stared at the trees. You still aren’t welcome here. The high beams flickered. Turn around and go back. 

Bones caught the high beams. He pointed the handheld camera in their general direction and pulled out the viewing screen. Old analogue snow distorted the footage. Mama. Mama. Mama. 

“Stop making that sound,” Michael sneered.  

His voice travelled to Jessica’s ears as a faint whisper in the wind. The children told her about all the pretty horses, or tried, they were cut off after five words.   

Strands fell out of his hipster manbun. Mama. The doll screamed louder than before. The barnacles breathed and attached themselves to Jessica’s hand and the back of her knee. 

The statue took another step. The air filled with the sounds of dead barnacles cracking open.  

The wind squealed through deflated balloons caught in children’s bones that masqueraded as stunted trees growing out of the Lido’s crumbling concrete.  

“What did you do to the camera, this is our big break, and you’re sabotaging it.”  

More strands fell out of his hipster bun. The high beams caught his face. His veins stood out. Jessica tried to move her foot, but the barnacles grabbed her tight.  

The wind dropped off pieces of nursery rhymes and a chill. Orange orbs surrounded Michael (those showed up on his footage).  

A peacock turned to him with a hiss. The eyes on its tailfeathers shut. When they opened again, they were blood shot and red. It pecked a barnacle off the broken concrete and chomped down, breaking its shell.  

The peacock threw the discarded shell next to the ones shed by the statue. It picked a barnacle from Jessica’s skin. Her scream cut through the night air.  

Another peacock ran to Michael while he was distracted fumbling with the camera and Jessica’s scream. The first peacock didn’t chomp down until it was sure it had Michael’s undivided attention.  

He caught the entire thing on film. In the background of his shot, Jessica was trapped with the throbbing barnacles growing along her wrist and up her leg, looking to meet somewhere around her hips.  

Michael’s head fell back with his mouth open as the peacock discarded another barnacle shell.  

My, my, you are such a pretty boy, too.  

The statue turned her head to watch the scene unfold. Dead barnacles popped off her dead skin. Take him, he’s mean. The voice came through as an old croak that hadn’t been heard in a decade or more.  

Waves lapped at the shoreline below. Blood dripped from Jessica’s hand and wrist.  

Orange orbs sped out of the waves. Please, Miss, don’t drown me. The barnacles twisted around Jessica’s wrist and grew down her pointing fingers. She tried to free herself with her other hand. They latched onto that too.  

A wraith pulled on Michael’s hair. Her ghostly face pulled itself into disgust. Milky orbs that served as eyes looked over at Jessica.  

Bright daylight threatened Jessica’s eyesight. She took a step forward – her skin remembering the pull of vampire barnacles that existed in air.  

Children jumped into the pool. They splashed with happy little screams. The entire class. Teacher knew best. Miss paid for the trip out of her own pocket.  

An ice cream van pulled up. One final treat for all of Miss’s favourite little girls and boys.  

Girls clapped their hands together and sang nursery rhymes. A stray peacock wandered the grounds displaying his tailfeathers for his hen. The girls pointed and ooohhh, You are so pretty. The peacock turned his back towards them and searched for his hen. 

Children lined up at the ice cream van’s window and held their hands out to receive a Flake 99. Miss already paid.  

The girls paused their nursery rhymes and hand games.  Creamy white ice cream dripped onto the little hands. Miss watched from the pool side.  

The peacocks gave up on wooing their hens. They put their tailfeathers away and turned around, bringing with them the night.  

The wraith opened her mouth, dislocating her jaw. Children screamed at Jessica. Don’t let Miss find you. The children pulled on her hand, staying clear of the baby doll and barnacles.  

Water splashed on Jessica. Each droplet caught the summer sun and burst in an orange eruption. Waves carried debris to the shore. Rats fought over stray scrapes of skin clinging to bones.  

The wraith turned her face towards where Jessica stood only a second before. The wind caught a hidden deflated balloon.  

A woman held a girl with blonde pigtails under the pool water. The woman turned to look at Jessica, her mouth open ready to say something.  

The wraith’s long tongue, ripe with decay, rolled out of her mouth and licked Michael’s ear. This one is mine. The girl beneath the water released air bubbles as her jaw unhinged and her eyes popped out.  

Jessica screamed. Peacocks screamed back. The barnacles pulled on her skin and found the fat beneath.  

Barnacles steamed under the bright summer sun. They didn’t like to be out of the sea.  

A car pulled into the car park. A woman ran out of the passenger’s side and didn’t bother to even slam the door. She screamed, “don’t eat the fucking ice cream”.  

The statue stumbled in the glare of the high beams. Dead barnacles pulled away from her grey and green skin as she fell. 

Barnacles pulled Jessica's arm to her side and tied it around her back. The ones on her leg climbed further to caress her knee. 

The teacher turned to look at the woman. Only hatred existed beyond her black eyes, but the woman didn’t cringe or back down.  

“Your children will never amount to anything,” Miss spat.  

Ice cream dripped from the children’s mouths. A little boy clutched his stomach and puked down his bare chest. The air took on a chill. Barnacles grabbed Jessica’s arm and leg.  

A child’s body washed up on the shore (covered in barnacles). A police siren wailed. The man in the ice cream van smiled and handed out a Flake 99. Threadworms waved in the brown chocolate.  

Don’t anger Miss. A little girl with blonde pigtails pulled on Jessica’s arm. Barnacles came away with blood and a faint pop. A peacock snatched them from the sun-drenched concrete.  

A body floated just beneath the surface of the lido; a little girl with blonde pigtails. Her blue eyes stared blankly at the sun. Waves crashed on the shore bringing with them salt-preserved decay.  

The peacocks ran circles around Jessica. Miss is really upset. The girl pulled on Jessica’s hand with more urgency. Her sharp nails dug into Jessica’s flesh bringing blood.  

The peacocks spat at Jessica and displayed their tailfeathers. You must do what Miss says. Another child joined them. Yeah, no matter how bad it is, you must do it. The peacock’s circle grew tighter. Their tailfeathers weaved together. The eyes blinked.  

Orange orbs danced around the bones that masqueraded as trees. Jessica caught glimpses between peacock tail feathers.  

Please, Jessica, set us free. Another voice joined the first. Help us, Jessica. Her skin crawled with invisible insects. The barnacles ate us too. Another voice chimed in, we were on a school trip. The peacocks closed in.  

A beak pulled at the barnacles regenerating on Jessica’s hand and wrist. Two peacocks fought over the barnacles even though there were plenty to go around.  

Jessica’s blood hit a hole in the broken concrete. The earth lapped it up.  

The peacocks parted letting her watch Michael fell to the rubble. A wraith stood over him.  

Scarps of pale skin hung from the white fingers held together with copper wires that stroked his chin. The long tongue fell out of the wraith’s mouth and licked his other ear. Imagine what else I can do with my tongue.  

The bones pretending to be trees jangled. Deflated balloons blew in off the sea and caught in toes and fingers fused to femurs.  Mists blew around until they formed the shape of primary school children.  

The statue shed the last of her barnacles. Peacocks picked up the empty shells.  

Michael dropped Jessica’s camera. The wind died down and the peacocks stopped their fight so Jessica heard it shatter. The wraith had her tongue shoved down Michael’s throat when she looked over.  

The statue poked Jessica. You need to get out of here. Jessica turned to look at her. The same woman who stormed up to the poolside and watched the children succumb to vomiting sickness and float under the water looked back. Only, her lips had rotted off and barnacles ate through most of her flesh over the years.  

Jessica turned away to look at Michael. The wraith hovered over him. Her long fingerbones held his hands down by his side. Flies fell out of her mouth when she opened it for a kiss.  

The wind blew her scrapes over fabric around. Teasing and twisting her form into something Michael desired.  

You need to leave this place. Go! 

The statue-woman rapidly pulled barnacles from Jessica’s skin, even after Jessica turned away from her live-in partner and his new lover.  

The vague shape of men stood with the peacocks. They wanted to eat the discarded barnacles as much as the birds. The hens had no interest.  

Mists seeped out of the broken concrete and formed into the shape of a man. She did that to me last week. 

The children’s nursery rhymes spun around gaining speed and desperation. Save us Jessica. 

The statue pulled a handful of barnacles from Jessica’s skin as she turned around to tell the children off. This trip is forever. The wind carried any lingering traces of the nursery rhymes to the deflated balloons. Go! 

Jessica ran towards the car with a final glance at Michael. The wind pulled and pushed at the wraith. Orange lights hung over the scene. The last she ever saw of him.  

Children lined the road along with peacocks and men as she backed out as fast as she could. It was a bit too fast for safety. Go. Quicker. The wraith is distracted.  

Once she reached the road, the radio turned on tuned to the station of children’s nursery rhymes and peacock screams. A red ball bounced across the road forcing Jessica to slam on her brakes.  

An orange light floated above the scene. She saw more orange lights ahead. She pressed on the pedals and sped towards them and the sounds of the motorway.  

Mama. Jessica glanced at the passenger seat. Barnacles spread from the doll’s head. Will you be my Mama?  

She turned her attention back to the road and drove faster. The trees and orange orbs became blurs next to her window.  

The barnacles died once she reached the motorway. The doll lost its voice, but sat there, strapped in with eyes that couldn’t close.