That Night | On The Lake

The silence didn't stay quiet for long. A rhythmic thrum began to vibrate through the floorboards of the boat. It wasn't a sound, really—more like a heartbeat felt in the soles of his feet. Elias looked over the edge.

Elias pulled the oars in, letting the rowboat drift. He shouldn't have been out there—not after the stories his grandfather told about the "mirror days," when the water got so still you couldn't tell the sky from the surface. "Just one cast," he whispered to the silence. That Night on the Lake

He rowed back to shore in a fever, but he never told a soul. Some secrets are meant to stay under the surface, and some nights are meant to change you in ways the daylight can never explain. The silence didn't stay quiet for long

When the spray cleared, the lake was flat again. The watch was gone. The moonlight was just moonlight. Elias looked at his hand; the tip of his index finger was glowing with a faint, silver shimmer that wouldn't wash off. Elias looked over the edge