There is a monster in the mountain pond.
We know. We have seen it, something stirring in its depths.
The water, blue as the night sky and frigid as ice, holds secrets that we can’t imagine.
No one has died. Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. That’s what everyone in the village says.
Much as we try to stay away, we can’t avoid it forever. The pond is the closest and purest water we have.
Each time people come to the pond to collect water, they do so as quickly as possible. Stumbling away from the edge of the water. Fear painted onto their faces.
And yet there is something that draws us. Like a magnet.
We find ourselves thinking about the water, imagining the smooth marble surface even when we should be doing something else.
Everyone in the village feels this. They deny it, but there’s a part of them that wants to come to the water, to kneel at the edges and dive straight in.
To meet the monster.
And they should. I’m not that bad.