The Woman In White, created for Spark Magazine.
Written by Nicole Poochigian-Howard.
Photographed by Christopher Davila.
Models: Cat Roland, Isabella Rogoff // MUA: Averie Wang, Shilpika Pandey // Stylists: Geraldine Palacios, Michelle Arriaga // Nails: Grace Joh // Layout: Joy Pesebre // Videographer: Brandon Porras
Her name does matter, but it was lost to time like many others. The only thing that lingers about this girl is the myth of how she became a Woman in White.
There were three things she was told as a child. The first was to be wary of the forest after dark and the second was to never approach the waters. But the third was spoken through broken whispers and was barely enough to tell the tale of the Woman in White. However, these rules were hardly secrets. Every young girl was told to avoid the lake, but why was never quite made clear. The monster only ate men accused of crimes and would always return the women that were stolen, unharmed. However, something fundamental changed within these girls when they were returned, they were now not only women but also dangerous. No longer polite young girls, they as a group challenged the townspeople, forcing them to hear their voices. As a child, she was told to view them as raving madwomen. Just walk by and smile, her mom told her one day. Give those women no attention, they are hysterical. They were the treachery the Woman in White portended. No longer proper mothers, daughters, or sisters now, they bared their teeth for all to see. Yet something was alluring about them, some strange freedom in the way they walked, with hands loose, heads high.
With each passing season, the girl’s curiosity grew like a stubborn weed forcing itself into a refined flower bed. Who was the Woman in White, and why did she solely kill men? She was certain the lake held the secret, the crux of what she was missing. When the opportunity to visit the lake under the cloak of dark arrived, she said yes. Jeremiah, a loud boy always tugging at her pigtails, begging for attention, had agreed to be her guide. Wait until I meet you there, he said with a hungry smile. It is not fit for a girl to roam the woods alone, especially after nightfall. If the Woman in White finds you, he said, you’ll never be the same. Slowly her impatience was consuming her mind, every thought surrounded that lake. It was as if a breeze off the lake welcomed her when she stepped into the woods at dusk. That welcome soon waned to uncertainty. Where was Jeremiah? Daylight escaped the forest as the promise of night lingered in the air, and the once inviting woods shifted into a place of uncertainty. Where was he? Deeper and deeper she found herself in the trees. Which way was back?
Too late. A slosh and water had dretched her feet: she had reached the lake. A peculiar light rose from the water hummed with anticipation. Her eyes focused upon her reflection in the lake and slowly she knelt until she was face to face with herself. Hesitantly, her hand rested upon the surface, almost too afraid to go any deeper. A laugh interrupted the enchantment as Jeremiah appeared. His eyes could’ve burned a hole straight through her; his gaze held a strange power that radiated concern. Never had he looked so intimidating, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on why, as he held a hand out to raise her. With a lick of his lips, he pulled her in. When she proved unresponsive, he lifted her chin.
So sweet he was at first, one moment he was kissing her neck, but his impatience grew and, she was forced to the ground, her skirt hiked. Oh, how the time blurred, seconds became minutes and minutes became hours as she patiently waited for the end. When he was done, he threw on his clothes with haste and told her to face away. Was he ashamed of how he hurt her, did it make it too real? Did the look in her eyes inspire empathy, and make him question himself?
He fell backward wanting to escape the mental anguish of his actions. Then his breath quickened when his eyes noticed a rock. Suddenly red hot pain blossomed across her head as the rock fell. She stumbled straight into his knife and he tore her body to shreds, destroying each fingerprint left behind, attempting to cleanse yourself of your actions. In her final moments, she couldn’t decide what was more painful: the blade or the hand that wielded it. All she could think of was how she allowed herself to envision a future, one far away, where she would wake up every morning to the scent of flowers and a smile. However, that dream was lost with each drop of blood protruding from her neck slowly icing, and her glazed eyes. An empty darkness consumed her vision, as the clouds blurred and the fireflies lost their light.
A splash cut through the silence and then slow like honey, a creature emerged from the waters. The being's face was so pale it contrasted with the darkness in its eyes. How alone she felt until the strange woman held her broken body. That monstrous face suddenly appeared so inviting. No longer the myth warned against as a child. So familiar, this woman felt and so powerful. Oh, Woman in White, why are you the myth of the lake that we are all told to flee when approached? She understood now, the cowardice warning of the men, why the Woman in White became a villain of modern folklore. She is like numerous victims of male violence, except, she uses her power to defeat other abusers. By choosing to remain in the place of her death and become a guardian, this lake remains forever sacred to those harmed by the cruelty of a man. The men of the village tried to silence her voice. In their minds, she not only lessened their power but challenged it.
Alone, she was a simple annoyance, a fly to be swatted, but eventually, the collected power of the village women grew to newfound heights. The word “no” was tossed around with great weight and refusal was too abundant, she needed to be removed, so her lover led her through the trees and into the river to die. The contortion of her memory serves as a representation of how the collective power of women may ignite fear as they awaken.
Now a woman, she became the monster that lurks deep beneath an ancient lake, her experience reflected by the Woman in White. She is whole, through her, she gave back the voice he ripped from her jugular. Through the Woman in White’s tragic story, numerous others are validated, she unites millions of other survivors under a similar pseudonym.
Come, boy, follow the voice in the water. Look into their eyes and feel power, they are freedom and vengeance mangled and frayed with their entwinement. So next time you wander the woods in search of an exit, be wary of their call, for all guilty men will be condemned upon their lips.
