The lake was strange. Shrouded in fog in early morning, flat like glass. The man had thrown the tennis ball in to it, but his dog had just watched it fly. There was no chase. The dog understood and wouldn't step within 20 yards of the water. But the man had long ago learnt to ignore his instinct. Frustrated, he walked in to the fog to retrieve the ball. But it wasn't floating on the water like he expected.
The water was perfectly still. Here, even the air was still. The man frowned. After a minute or two of looking, he called back to his dog, but the animal only whimpered, his silhouette hazzy in the fog. Where was the ball? Picking up a small rock on the shore, he tossed it in to the water in frustration.
The rock hit the water but didn't splash. The water allowed it to sink beneath its surface, bending itself around it. No ripples spread out from its landing spot.
Instinct finally settled on the man and he gingerly took a few steps back. Goose flesh rose on his arms, as the temperature seemed to drop suddenly.
Quietly, he walked away. His dog followed him, tail between his legs and head lowered. The walk was over for them.
The water was perfectly still. Here, even the air was still. The man frowned. After a minute or two of looking, he called back to his dog, but the animal only whimpered, his silhouette hazzy in the fog. Where was the ball? Picking up a small rock on the shore, he tossed it in to the water in frustration.
The rock hit the water but didn't splash. The water allowed it to sink beneath its surface, bending itself around it. No ripples spread out from its landing spot.
Instinct finally settled on the man and he gingerly took a few steps back. Goose flesh rose on his arms, as the temperature seemed to drop suddenly.
Quietly, he walked away. His dog followed him, tail between his legs and head lowered. The walk was over for them.
Deep down at the bottom of the lake, something stirred. A ghost of a figure swimming in the murky depths. It was not alone. A larger figure also moved through the silt. And in its clawed hand, the yellow of a dirty tennis ball. It passed the ball to the smaller figure, who took it. Wonder filled its black eyes and an expression of joy filled its scaled face. Holding it tightly, the small monster grinned at its mother. And just like any child, it scurried away to play...
©2013 Kari Milburn
I absolutely love it honey, so nice to know my creative eye has inspired another creative soul too. Love you lots xxx
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