Dark Waters -

The splash was heavy and final. The lantern flickered out as it hit the surface, and for a moment, the silver fog swirled into the vacuum Elias left behind. Then, the lake smoothed itself over, polished and black, hiding its secrets once again beneath the dark waters.

Fifty years ago, his brother, Thomas, had fallen into these waters. They’d been skipping stones when Thomas slipped. Elias remembered the splash—a heavy, final sound—and then... nothing. No thrashing. No bubbles. Just the lake smoothing itself over like a closing wound. The divers never found a body. They said the lake was bottomless in the center, fed by subterranean rivers that could pull a man down to the roots of the world. Dark Waters

Elias sat in the stern of the rowboat, the wood groaning beneath him. He was seventy, with skin like cured leather and eyes that had seen too many seasons of the "Dark Waters." That’s what the locals called the lake after the sun dropped behind the ridge. It wasn't just a name; it was a warning. The splash was heavy and final

Deep below, a pale shape drifted. It wasn't a fish or a sunken log. It was a hand—long, translucent fingers splayed against the dark. And then another. Dozens of them, waving slowly like pale anemones in a current that shouldn't exist. Fifty years ago, his brother, Thomas, had fallen

Tonight, Elias wasn't skipping stones. He had a lantern, a heavy iron chain, and a desperate, foolish hope.

Elias looked back at the shore, where the lights of the town flickered like dying embers. He thought of the heavy air, the aching joints, and the grief he’d carried for half a century. Then he looked at the cool, inviting void below.

As he reached the center of the lake, the air grew unnaturally still. The water began to vibrate—a low, rhythmic hum that Elias felt in his teeth. He lowered the lantern over the side. The light struggled against the murk, illuminating only a few feet of the swirling, ink-like depths. Then, he saw it.