Nobody ever believes a kid when they say they see something that’s out of place. They always get told “you’re seeing things” or, the very popular lines are said, “It’s just your imagination”.
Neal Farrow had always been fascinated by the flow of water. He could easily stare at the calmness of it; getting lost in what he imagined swam beneath the surface. All the eight year old boys he knew were excellent swimmers, all except for him. In all honesty Neal was afraid of the water. To him, there was a dark mystery about it. One he didn’t like, but one he couldn’t bring himself away from either.
His mother, Leah, often encouraged Neal to join the school’s swim team. If he had a fear of drowning, he wouldn’t anymore once he knew what he was up against in the water, or below it. Neal would half smile at the idea but would never go through with it. Regardless of what security it gave him to know how to handle the water’s unpredictability. In a pool he knew what he was up against, chlorine and piss. And it was always up for debate on which of the two stung more when it entered the eyes.
The ocean, or even the lake, was a different story. Neal had an idea of what animals swam underneath the glassy, murky surfaces, but his mind had a habit of telling him that it was much more than a school of fish that dwelled within its domains. Behind his quaint little house lies a lake and every day Neal walks up to the edge and stands, looking below. His eyes wandering every inch that he sees, searching for that other creature his mind conjures up. Little did he know, such a creature exists in the lake and sooner, rather than later, he would come face to face with disaster.