The Still Lake.

It’s been a year since the water took her. The lake danced in innocence unknowing of the life it claimed. Sarah sighed, backing away from the edge. The flowers and teddy bears graced the dock in a bittersweet memorial. No one blamed her; no one had to. She already knew where the blame should be placed; that night replayed in her mind a thousand times. The wind felt harsher that evening than it did last year, a painfully cold reminder of the tragedy that snatched her best friend in mere seconds. They were out late, drinking, and decided to go for a swim. Sarah wiped her cheek roughly; it was a decision she regretted every single day after. If only she had never woken Annie up with such a dumb request. Had they backed out at the crisp cold that greeted them the moment they were in the vicinity of the biting water. Sarah's eyes began to water once more as the calm image in front of her transformed into the abrupt vision of water splashing wildly. She stood frozen in fear as her friend's arms wailed hysterically.

She clutched her chest, turning fully, letting the heavy dripping guilt burn into her skin as she drove home. It felt disrespectful to allow herself to think about anything else, so she sat in silence.

Sarah makes her way into her room as the moon greets the blinds, the luminous tint lighting her room beautifully. She drags her feet across the wooden floor, letting her legs give up at the bed, faceplanting with a soft thud. She huffs at the pointless thoughts flooding in as her body recognizes her attempted relaxation. The asinine reminiscence is doing nothing to help her mental shutdown; she just wanted to go to sleep. That was until something glistened in the corner of her eye, a round glossy bubble floated mindlessly towards her bed. The soft, almost animated pop drops into a soapy trail on the floor. Sarah scurried forward, her breath hitching as she reached for her side lamp, the soft glow barely illuminating her side of the room.

Her eyes narrow, scanning the room, with skeptical tension rising in her body as her heart begins to rumble with her anxiety. It’s not real, she tried to calm herself, but the pulling uncertainty yanked in the back of her mind. Another smooth sphere wobbled from the corner, the reflection of the light shimmering a golden streak across its surface. This one floating closer than the last, before it pops with the same soft burst in the air. A jarring, piercing screech released into the room, quick and shrilling.

“Hello?” She called out, though her better judgment quarreled inside her. Her bedroom door teetered close to the dark corner, and the light switch sat equally close to the door. A trip she was hesitant to admit, scared her more than the childish bubbles seeping from the darkness. She scoots forward on her bed, ignoring the thundering beating of her heart. The abysmal pattern of light leaves more to the darkness than what her small light sources could provide.

“Is someone there?” She called out again with more strength than she could imagine. Her bravery quickly turned into fear as four more bubbles danced into her view. The main bubble was far larger, holding a steadier drift than the rest. Sarah's foot hit the ground slowly as she pressed her toes softly into the wood. The round, empty ball stopped near her face, popping loudly like a gunshot. The rush of air shoots forward, spewing a scream into her face. The sound dies just as the soap hits the floor once more. A small glug escaped from the corner, a deep, fluid sound as the rest of the bubbles burst, dropping a dark liquid onto the floor.

She tries to urge herself forward to march toward the light and demand that her mind stop playing tricks on her. The hesitation stuttered her feet as a solid glowing orb appeared from the dark, images playing in the center. The gasp escaped her lips before she could register just how dark her surroundings had become. The blinds lay closed, blocking the moonlight teasing her with a soft shuddering sway. The orb drifts forward, the tantalizing images speeding far too quickly, far too familiar.

“Stop!” She screamed, the image freezing on one cruel image. A hand sticking out of a dark body of water, the freeze frame of the day her life changed drastically. This was surely a dream; her hands clawed and pinched at every exposed piece of skin, her eyes were stark, tears glossing over her pupils. Another sound, something macabre, oozed into the room.

She turned all at once, her anxiety giving her the adrenaline to roughly hit the light switch. The room brightened, showing a clean and very empty room. A wet, crispy gurgle pierced through the room. Her heart hammered, the collection of strength crumbling under the poignant heartbreak, tearing through her slowly. The lightbulb flickered, giving her seconds to flee back to the bed, into the safety of the side lamp. The room chills, the crinkling frost crackles up the windows, as bubbles emerge. The popping sped up rapidly into a vibrating, fluttering essence, the throating sound consuming what was left of her bravery. The blinds shoot open, her bedroom window flushes against still water, water droplets pushing on the frosty glass.

A slow rasping scrape echoed dauntingly into the room. The steps long and uneven creaked on the wood as it protested the heavy feeling. A body shifted from the shadow, the slithering silhouette becoming a solid visual as the moonlight shone perfectly on its dark eyes.

“Annie!” Sarah gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth to prevent a scream, shoveling the feeling back into her throat. Annie's face peered into full view, her once even skin blotched green and rubbery. Her pale lips moved without sound, the waterlogged flesh slightly drooped. Her body looked heavy. The guttural sound that bubbled through her echoed around Sarah's room.

Sarah's body moved without consent, hurling her towards the bloated figure, her hands outlining what once was her best friend.

“Annie, I’m…so sor-” the apology caught in Sarah's throat, her hands falling defeated by her side. The standing corpse in front of her stayed unmoving, the gentle sway of the floor rocking them both.

Annie's lips parted with her head leaning back, sending more hollowed bubbles into the air. The sharp rumble of water replaces the sound of her vocal cords. The helpless rattle filling her lungs echoed through her chest until her neck snapped forward. The last bubble popped, forcing Sarah to close her eyes to avoid the spittle. Upon opening her eyes, Annie stood before her, rejuvenated. Her bright eyes were watching with the same teenage innocence she used to have. As her lips turned upwards into a grin, she stepped forward.

“Sarah,” her voice pitched, holding back a gentle sob. Sarah's hands found her face, curling her fingers into her hair, her own sobs mimicking the person in front of her.

“Are you real?” Sarah whispered, her voice failing when it truly mattered. Her head finally lifted to see her eyes after all this time.

“I was…” Annie replied, her eyes turning lifeless, as her body dropped through the floor, the wood parting just enough to let the water consume her.

“Annie! No, please no! Not again,” Sarah pleaded, clasping her best friend's hand firmly. Her body trembled as she held on, desperately clinging to Annie's forearm, “Don’t leave me again.”

Annie's face hovered above the water, her eyes regaining their usual spark as the arm Sarah held died back into its slippery decay. They stared at each other for a moment, the soft swish of water the only sound around them.

Sarah sniffled hard, the tears burning her eyes as she tried to clear her blurred vision, “I can’t lose you again.”

Annie chuckled softly, “It’s not your fault.”

Sarah grunted, throwing her other arm forward, struggling to hold on to her best friend. Her knees pressed into the wood. She shook her head violently, muttering more to herself than to Annie.

“Sarah,” Annie smiled, “Let me go…”

Her body threw itself back, her arm slipping easily out of Sarah's grasp. The water consumed her quickly as the floor mended just as the world seemed to reset.

Sarah sat up quickly, her hands groping the blanket under her. Her blinds were closed, leaving a dark room for her eyes to adjust to. She crawled to the side lamp, scanning frantically, pinching herself some more before slumping into her palms.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered into the darkness. Her arms find themselves around her waist as her friend's words swirl around her mind. Let me go. She could only try.