NEW: The Lake.

 

The small lake lay silent in front of him, like a torn sheet from an Arthurian romance.

He dipped his naked feet into the cold, clammy waters, the slime of generations of algae turning his feet green within an instant. But it felt good, comforting. And although no sound came from the waters, there were murmurs, whisperings. He couldn't hear them, but his feet felt their vibration beneath the surface of the stagnant waters.

He watched as his pale toes curled themselves around the smooth pebbles and bright shiny coins that littered the bottom of the lake.

He looked up, watching the centre of the lake with a keen interest, as ripples shifted across the surface. Then he saw a hand, as slime covered as his moving feet, slide across the surface of the water, then another hand stretch itself into the pale mist that hung over the lake, then dip slowly back into the depths again.

He moved forward, his jeans soaked to the knees, then his hips. The centre of the lake would be deep; it was said to be bottomless, and like a child, he hesitated at the thought.

He watched another hand as it rose above the surface of the water, then a face appeared, though heavily wrapped, like a shroud in white linen laced with the green mould of the lake.

The inhabitants of the lake seemed unknowing of his presence, but they were aware, and they waited as he fell further into the lake. His feet left the muddy bottom, and he was afloat, drifting closer to the centre, to arms that would either hold him steady, or pull him down to the bottomless depths of the lake.