Water

The water is cold. Freshly melted snow, the lake makes me shiver while I wade out farther off the beach. I’m now waste deep and the water is lapping against my skin, giving me goosebumps on every square inch of skin that is dry.

The water is clear. I look down and see my toes shifting the sands below like a fluid shaping in between each one. There are rocks of all colors and sizes scattered around in every direction, and each are as smooth as the next. 

The water is benign. It doesn’t force me any direction I don’t want go, it doesn’t get in my way. I move forward until the water is just barely covering my shoulders. It surrounds me. At any moment, it could decide to crush my (or anyone else’s) body if the water had the desire to. Instead, it lets me do as I please.

The water is scary. Still, cold, clear, and benign, it scares me. I’d lean back and immerse my head and face with its wonder if something dark doesn’t wait for me to do so and pull me under. I’d swim out farther to the deeper portions of the lake if I didn’t carry all this weight to sink me. I’d jump out and fly away if a barrier didn’t exist to push me back down. I’d walk back to shore if the scorching sun didn’t burn and kill those who were afraid and turned back, water-clad.

I'd stay warmer if my body heat stopped flowing into the water.

My shivering becomes more violent. My teeth are chattering. My vision becomes blurred.

I’m dying.

I jump out of the water and try to take off, but I come crashing down with an upset to the water. The water reacts and covers me with a small wave as I inhale. I begin to choke. I cough over a dozen times before I can breathe normal again. But now my blood is rushing. I feel even colder than before.

The shore. I look back and see the warm, tan sands that aren’t more than a hundred yards away. I start to run, but as my back becomes more exposed to the sun, it burns, and I screech with pain. I plunge my entire body back into the water.

Something grabs onto my hair and starts pulling down. I try and pull away, but its grip is tight. I try and turn around to fight, but I can’t see what’s holding me. I start kicking and swinging my arms around. I hit something hard, and my arm throbs with pain, but the grasp is released and I burst out of the water and inhale a large breath.

I come back down to touch the soft sand beneath my feet. I step on a sharp rock and cut my foot. I look at it and see its multiple sharp edges and try to understand why it’s not smooth like the rest of the rocks.

I have no other choice to save myself other than to find some help, and no one else is on this beach. I see a boat, but I can’t tell how far away it is. I feel dizzy. Hopping on one foot, I go farther out into the lake. Soon enough, to touch the bottom I must go underwater. Eventually, I can’t find the bottom quickly. I have to swim. I have a hard time keeping myself above the water. My body slowly sinks into the water with my legs and feet even lower.

All my strength is going into keeping my body warm, and I’m left exhausted. I look down at the bottom of the lake. I can still see it, but it’s a long way down. I try to continue, but my arms give out and start to sink as well.

The boat doesn’t seem any closer, but I call for help anyway. I’m not very loud. I can’t see anything anymore. Everything is one blur. I feel my face covered with the cold water again. I want to kick myself out from continuing my descent, but my body doesn’t react. I can no longer defer up and down either way. I wouldn’t know which way to swim. My lungs are burning for air, but I know I can’t breathe. They don’t listen either. I open my mouth and inhale. Water floods into my lungs. You’d think the water would help, but it just deepens the need for breathing. I desperately need air. I open mouth and inhale the water once more.

I sink to the bottom and hit the rocks and sand, but I don’t feel them. Something killed me before I could.