“She lay motionless underneath the surface of the water with bright green algae.” (writing.com)
Grace feels suddenly cold and alarmed at having made such a gruesome discovery. But she can’t look away from the lake, for there’s a feel of uneasiness, a feel of curiosity, a feel of familiarity. Withstanding and dismissing the morose morality of it all, Grace bends down to scrutinize the girl’s appearance.
Her red hair floats around her pale blue face like a fiery crown setting ablaze an ice goddess. Her hands– one on her chest, the other at her side– display up kept trimmed nails, and a single gold dolphin ring adorned her right index finger. The girl’s image sways a bit as a current is swept over her, pulling her fine white night gown back and forth, to and fro.
Grace looks up to see where the current is coming from before discovering a lone row boat on the other side of the lake, being manned by someone in all black. She instinctively shifts her weight so she’s behind a row of tall grass.
“Come on Gracie! It’s your turn to count!”
Grace is startled back from her curiosity as she scrutinizes this young boy stamping his feet in frustration. She can’t quite figure out where she knows him, and with a breeze of dejá vú she can’t quite grasp onto how she knows him. Then realization dawns. This young boy was her childhood friend and she reminisces to the days where they would do nothing but play hide and seek all day. Then, about four years ago, some fishermen found his body in the lake near the north end. They said he slipped on a rock and hit his head. And here he is, not a day over eight telling Grace it’s his turn to hide.
He rushes closer to Grace, takes her hand and begins to pull her along to play. Grace, speechless, turns her head one last time at the girl in the water; such beauty, such death, such Grace.