Short Story Saturday: The Leggy Mistress of The Waterfall

Short Story Saturday: The Leggy Mistress of The Waterfall - Photo by hazan aköz ışık from Pexels
Photo by hazan aköz ışık from Pexels

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled The Leggy Mistress of the Waterfall. Please enjoy.

He didn’t go there looking for love. All he wanted was a stiff drink after a hard day working for the Northwest Logging Company.

The Waterfall Bar wasn’t his usual haunt. It was far different as it emanated with refinement and class.

Firefly lights, a dark, rich color scheme reminiscent of a cigar lounge and classical music melodiously playing in the background set a mood that was a far cry from the large fluorescent lights, the green and brown color scheme reminiscent of a pool hall and heavy metal and rap that blared at his favorite drinking establishment.

The price alone would have normally been a deterrent. He needed to go somewhere other than his usual joint, The Right Spot. He had to escape. He had grown sick of hearing Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song.

Sure it was initially played by his buddies in the spirit of humor. And sure, he even laughed the first hundred or so times he heard the song warble over the airwaves of the antiquated jukebox. However, you can only hear it so many times before you would chew glass than ever hear the caterwauling of Michael Palin one more time.

After taking a minute or two to recover from feeling overwhelmed in a foreign land and taking in the surroundings, the lumberjack made his way to the bar to order a rusty nail without ice, the manliest of drinks. Though initially he wanted to keep to himself, the gregarious bartender was not the kind miss an opportunity to regale a stranger with idle chitchat. Though hesitant at first, the lumberjack loosened his tongue.

He and the bartender conversed on local events. Livestock in nearby regions were found dead and drained of their blood. The bartender warned him to not stay out too late or alone as there was a rash of missing persons and peculiarly it seemed like young men were the ones who disappeared.

Work had increased for the lumberjack as an apartment complex near The Waterfall was the victim of arson recently leaving the building abandoned for all intents and purposes. A new building needed to be erected which required an increase of wood.

After exchanging such pleasantries, the lumberjack turned to take another look at the rest of the bar and perhaps see whether someone would catch his eye. Someone did.

She was a Japanese woman in approximately her mid-thirties with alluring eyes and crimson lips. Her obsidian colored earrings shaped as arachnids sparkled in the light. Her long slender legs, revealed through a slit in her red and black dress, faced him as she sat pointed away from him.

A quick conversation with the bartender revealed she was a regular visitor. Her beauty made her more memorable than a typical guest. She was almost as iconic to the bar as the mock waterfall fountain display sitting in the far corner of the bar that gave the establishment its signature name.

One time, not long ago, a patron, undoubtedly plastered, dubbed her the “Leggy Mistress of the Waterfall”. Everyone who was there laughed and agreed that it was a pretty idiotic nickname. Somehow, though, the name stuck.

Almost as a non sequitur, the bartender mentioned that she reminded him of a girl he used to date when he was on the track team in high school. A man sitting next to the lumberjack groaned upon hearing. He knew what was coming.

The bartender would once again discuss at length his days on the track team and once again bragged that he was the state’s top runner and placed third in nationals. He claimed that he was still as fast as he ever was in spite of the over fifteen years that had passed since his halcyon school days. Though this was dubious, he at least looked the part.

The mistress didn’t notice the lumberjack at first. Her gaze was transfixed on a news report. When she turned her head and saw the awestruck gaze of the lumberjack, a delighted smile crept upon her lips. She did so love younger men and the lumberjack was barely into his twenties. With the eagerness evocative of a lioness pouncing upon an antelope, the mistress slinked towards her prey.

It was an awkward shuffle. Her legs moved as if the woman wasn’t used to having them. Some, especially amongst the older crowd of the opposite gender, found her gait unsettling. To the ensnared young man it was captivating.

She set her glass down next to his. It was encompassed by a sticky residue and odd white stains.

He asked nervously whether she was hungry and wanted something to eat. She told him that what she wanted wasn’t on the menu. When she took his hand and led him out of the bar, he figured out what she had meant. She never went home with anyone before at least as far as the bartender could recall. This was the lumberjack’s lucky day.

Many nights of fun ensued between the two of them. Every evening after work the lumberjack would visit the bar to meet her. After a bit of dancing and more than a couple of drinks consumed, the two would run off to presumably engage in whatever activities two consenting adults of opposite sexes would choose to partake.

The constant nights of fun eventually took their toll but not with the mistress. If anything, the constant nights of fun had an invigorating effect on the woman. Conversely, the lumberjack began to deteriorate both physically and mentally.

It was a gradual transformation. When it began, the bartender joked that the mistress was draining the young man of his vitality. As his condition worsened, a genuine concern emerged. A once stout, muscular young man became thin and emaciated. His eyes and face exuded nothing but exhaustion. It was as if the young man was dead on his feet.

His mind was also a cause for concern. Though it wouldn’t be quite accurate to say the man was astute, he at least had a variety of topics on his mind even if they were a bit basic. That all change when he started seeing the woman regularly. His thoughts became a singularity focused exclusively on his leggy mistress. Outside of eating, sleeping, and working, the woman was the only thing on his mind. He was obsessed.

Then one day the duo suddenly stopped visiting. Normally this wouldn’t be anything of note. It is never particularly surprising when a pair of patrons decide to move on to a different locale or perhaps spend their time outside of a watering hole. However, the two were such regulars that the bartender was legitimately worried that something might have happened to them.

He didn’t have any means to contact the two. The man wasn’t particularly close with either of the pair. Outside of a few sporadic conversations with the lumberjack and even less with the mistress, there was no communication between them. In spite of this, the bartender still found himself missing them when they stopped their nightly sojourn.

One night the bartender was walking home as he was wont to do. The Waterfall was a mere fifteen minutes away from his home on foot. As he made his journey home, he noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye standing in an empty alley.

She was a slender leggy beauty wearing a black and red dress staring off into the distance. It was the leggy mistress of The Waterfall.

The mistress was looking away from him when he called out to her. Her mind was preoccupied with whatever or whomever she was looking towards. Startled by the familiar voice, she turned towards the source.

For a moment she just stared at the man. With a large and relieved smile, he asked where she and the lumberjack had been and whether they were in good health and spirits. In response, she said nothing and immediately sprinted away.

Sensing something was wrong, the man raced after her. The bartender was fast. His boasting at the bar only slightly exaggerated his speed. He had definitely kept himself in exemplary shape over the years.

Yet, chasing her still proved to be a near herculean task. The mistress moved through the streets like a gazelle. She leaped over garbage cans and cars, scurried up ladders and dove through open windows with an almost inhuman quickness and agility.

The bartender only barely managed to keep up with her pace. Opting to run around obstacles that the mistress was able to deftly move her way through slowed his pursuit quite a bit throughout.

Eventually, she led him to the abandoned apartment building, the same one that had been set aflame earlier that month. The bartender had fallen far enough behind at this point that while he was able to see her enter the complex, he was unable to gauge where she had gone within.

The bartender hesitated. He was unsure whether it was wise to enter the locale especially. The woman’s mannerisms were the more than a little suspicious. It was almost as if she was leading him to an obvious trap.

A short debate occurred internally. Against his better judgment, the man entered the burned down abandoned apartment complex. Curiosity had won the day.

Most rooms were unsurprisingly empty. The blaze left most rooms an empty shell of what they had been. The upper floors bore the brunt much more than the lower ones. The flights of stairs on the first three floors were mostly intact and the rooms there, though hardly in pristine condition, were still passably good. True, the condition of upper floors were such that they could fall at any time making the entire place a death trap, but at least the lower floors weren’t about to crumble anytime soon.

After climbing the third flight of stairs, the last remaining pair of stairs that could be ascended without making a superhuman leap of faith, the bartender stopped his search for a moment as he entered the floor. He heard something. It was low and barely audible.

He was barely cognizant of it at first, thinking initially it was either his imagination or a noise from outside. Soon the bartender realized, though, that it was coming from one of the rooms.

It was a tortured yet quiet moan, the voice of an individual who was struggling to remain conscious.

The moan was distinctly male.

Accompanying the moan were noises not unlike the sudden striking and ripping of flesh.

The man ran towards the sounds with sudden haste. He could not quite piece out what was happening but knew it was something bad. He knew someone was in trouble and needed help. He arrived at the open doorway in a panic. A cold sweat formed and ran down his shoulders and back.

A foul smell assaulted his olfactory nerves. The room smelled of rotting flesh which compelled him to cover his nose almost involuntarily.

Yet the stench was minor compared to the horrific sight he was forced to witness.

Several decaying corpses rotted on the floor. Each of the men was bound by duct tape from the armpits down. All had a huge gash across their chest and throughout the rest of their bodies. These cuts were done crudely but with precision. The goal was to inflict maximum pain while systemically draining these men of their blood. The copper brown floor stained with their coagulated blood a testament to the success of this plan.

Standing amongst these bodies was a young, flaxen-haired woman wearing a white smock and surgical mask, though both her stained with such a deep blood red it was almost as if it was the original color of those garments. In her hand was a knife decorated with the same viscous liquid. She stood there staring at the bartender’s terror-stricken face.

Another moan woke the bartender from his trance. Someone was still alive. There was a man propped up next to the blonde woman against a nearby wall. He was bound in a similar manner to the deceased who lay on the ground. Across his chest was a huge gash. There was no question what had caused the wound.

His head was down. He muttered muffled, incoherent words and displayed the mannerisms of a man who had been drugged. His breath was slow and pained. The young man struggled to breathe.

He seemed familiar to the bartender. His features were difficult to discern in the darkness as the only illumination was the thin moonlight. The bartender let out an audible gasp when he realized who was tied up in the darkness.

It was the lumberjack.

The woman leaped at the man suddenly and swung her knife vertically in an attempt to take advantage of the stunned bartender. With excellent reflexes and a bit of luck, the bartender managed to avoid the blow, but the surprise and horror of everything that was happening caused a bit of clumsiness.

While avoiding the woman the bartender tripped and fell forward sideways. He landed with a thud against the ground.

Completely unnerved, the man frantically moved to his back and hysterically crawled backward in a sort of crude crab walk. He dared not to turn his back away from the blonde.

As he scrambled in a panic, the woman followed him slowly. Her pursuit was slow and deliberate. She wanted to relish every moment she made the man squirm.

The bartender eventually ran out of space. He found himself next to the wall to the left of the lumberjack. Her mask hid her face so the bartender could not see her sadistic smile as she raised her knife eagerly in the air. Closing his eyes, the man braced for impact.

The knife never came down.

From the ceiling came the man’s savior. She was a hideous creature with eight eyes, a hairy elongated face and a pair of hairy fangs protruding from the mouth. Each of the three segments of her body, her rear end quite a bit larger than her torso and head, were colored with yellow and dark blue stripes. Each of her long, protruding legs jutting out from her abdomen was colored the same.

A gigantic spider had come to the rescue.

In an instant, the blonde was covered in the spider’s web. She did not even have time to struggle. Without a moment’s hesitation upon completion, the spider descended upon the woman. Her gigantic fangs fastened onto her skull.

The blonde’s anguished screams faded quickly. She hardly had time to feel excruciating pain before she was devoured.

Not that the bartender managed to witness any of this. He was already far gone by the time his attacker was covered in the white gooey substance. The bartender would not regain consciousness until long after the deed was done.

He awoke to a familiar figure looking over him. When the blur from his eyes gradually disappeared, he realized that the faint smile staring back at him came from the leggy mistress.

His head suddenly rose from her lap in a mad fright. The mistress assured him that the creature had disappeared and the threats were gone. Both of them, she added. The blonde assailant would also no longer pose a risk to their well-being.

The bartender’s attention turned towards the lumberjack. He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that the man was nearby, freed from his bonds, conscious and sitting upright.

His breathing was belabored. His wound had been attended to with a combination of a part of his clothing torn to become a makeshift tourniquet and a sticky white residue. It would due until he received proper care.

After a quick scan of the room, the bartender inquired about where the dead bodies had gone and she explained that she had moved both men to an adjacent room away from the grizzly scene. How a small Asian woman was able to drag two grown men into another room or free the lumberjack from his duct-taped bonds for that matter, was never adequately explained.

Relieved, the bartender asked the mistress what had happened. She explained to the best of her ability.

Her relationship with the lumberjack soured a week prior. She did not go into detail regardless of how much the bartender pressed. The woman merely stated she was bad for him and would be bad for any man. This was something she had just recently learned from as dating the lumberjack was her first romantic relationship.

Hearing this surprised the bartender. He let it slip that he did not expect somebody her age to have never had a relationship with someone before. The bartender immediately regretted saying this and apologized immediately. Though the mistress was visibly upset by his statement, she ultimately chose to let it go.

Continuing her story, she told him that though the lumberjack appeared to be heartbroken, he rebounded relatively quickly and began dating this young blonde.

The mistress had seen this woman before she had even met the lumberjack. On her trips to and from The Waterfall, she saw recalled seeing the blonde many times over the course of several weeks at odd hours of the night with various young men. The mistress initially believed her to be nothing more than a gold digger or perhaps a lady of the evening, though admitted that this assessment may have been borne of jealousy.

Then she had an epiphany. Her discomfort with her was not merely envy. When she saw the news report at The Waterfall, she thought those men looked familiar but didn’t know why.

While walking home that fateful night, it suddenly dawned on her. She chastised herself for not realizing it sooner. The men who disappeared were the blonde woman’s dates.

She tried to warn the lumberjack who dismissed her pleas as the fabrications of an envious, regretful woman. The two of them had just driven off when the bartender bumped into the mistress and the night’s events unfolded.

Apparently, she did not hear the lumberjack’s moans and was still looking for him when the bartender was attacked. She arrived on the scene just as the giant spider began her feast. The mistress spared the bartender the details of the scene. This did not prevent the man from vacating his last meal when she told him of the blonde woman’s fate.

After the bartender had recovered, the mistress continued and told him that she did not know where the spider had gone. The spider apparently disappeared after she devoured the blonde woman. When asked why the mistress did not answer which led the bartender to believe she did not know.

The bartender speculated that the spider’s only motive was to satiate its hunger. Once it was full, it was time to leave.

The mistress winced after hearing his supposition. Whispering to herself, she asserted that she believed the spider wanted to protect the one she cared for along with an innocent man. The bartender didn’t hear her.

The cops and the paramedics were called. While the paramedics attended to the lumberjack, the police questioned the mistress and the bartender. At first, they were suspicious of them, but after surveying the evidence and speaking to the lumberjack, they were convinced that the two were completely innocent of any crime.

From the description of the woman, the police asserted that the blonde woman matched the description of someone who had disappeared recently. She had been abducted by a madman at fifteen and forced to succumb to his debauched and degenerate desires, to put it mildly, for over five years. It was said that her only companions during that time were the spiders that found their way into that basement.

Though she was eventually rescued and her kidnapper was brought to justice or at least a close facsimile for a man willing to commit such atrocities, the woman never quite recovered from the traumatic experience as the scores of dead men in her wake would confirm.

Unfortunately, the mystery was never completely solved. The blonde woman’s body was never found. Both the bartender and the mistress understood that it was futile to provide the true explanation but it left them scrambling for an alternative. The duo came to a consensus that she fled upon seeing the mistress but could provide no further details much to the frustration of the officers of the law. Without any leads, the case soon went cold.

Afterward, the mistress and the bartender parted ways. When asked whether she’d ever return to The Waterfall, the mistress answered she wasn’t sure. Perhaps one day she’d return but her experiences with the lumberjack told her that she wasn’t quite ready.

The bartender asked for clarification. Ready for what, he asked. She just smiled and walked away.

It took time but the bartender was eventually able to move past the ordeal. His boss and coworkers gave the man a hero’s welcome when he returned finally able to work once again.

The lumberjack also recovered. The bartender checked on him daily and promised him he’d have free drinks for life if he ever made it back to The Waterfall.  When the lumberjack eventually managed to return, he was greeted by an enthusiastic and jubilant crowd.

The bartender never figured out the mystery of the giant spider. Although he invested a lot of time into research of the matter and made several inquiries, outside of a few folk tales primarily from Japanese culture, there were no recorded incidents of giant spiders of that size nonetheless any that consumed human beings whole. It was yet another mystery that had to remain unsolved. The bartender never stopped thinking about it even though he never saw the creature ever again.

As for the mistress, the bartender always remained optimistic that she’d return. Several times throughout every night after the incident he’d looked towards the entrance door always thinking that the next guest would be The Leggy Mistress of The Waterfall.

If you enjoyed this story, then perhaps you’d be interested in reading more by pressing the “short story” tag below or clicking this(short story) link or this(genre and tags) link or this(story list) link. I would also urge you to share this story with others and comment below. Please check out my books page as well by pressing here. Thank you for reading my story.


2 thoughts on “Short Story Saturday: The Leggy Mistress of The Waterfall

  • I really like this story. I was sure the giant spider was the killer and I figured that “leggy” was the spider. Excellently done.

    • Thank you very much. Originally it was going to be a modern retelling of an old Japanese tale I found on Wikipedia when reading about the jorogumo (a type of yokai a shapeshifting spider-woman for all intents and purposes). To quote:

      “The woodcutter fell in love with a woman he met at the waterfall. He visited her every day but grew physically weaker each time. The oshō of a nearby temple suspected that the woodcutter was “taken in by the jorōgumo mistress of the waterfall”, and accompanied him to chant a sutra. When a spider thread reached out to the woodcutter, the oshō let out a thunderous yell, and the thread disappeared. Now knowing that the woman was actually a jorōgumo, the woodcutter still persisted and tried to gain permission for marriage from the mountain’s Tengu. When the Tengu denied him the woodcutter ran towards the waterfall, where he was entangled by spider threads and disappeared into the water.” (source).

      Hence the bar was named The Waterfall and the central character was The Leggy Mistress of the Waterfall.

      I couldn’t quite get my original story to work so I decided instead of a modern retelling of the story I thought I’d come up with something a little more original. At first, I thought about having the mistress be the villain but then I’d thought it’d be more interesting to have her be the hero considering it didn’t seem like there were any tales where she was either the hero or at least misunderstood. Who knows? Perhaps I’m the first (I doubt it though). Anyway, thanks for reading. Had a lot to say about this one.

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