Water

Everyone else is inside. The sun fell over the mountain an hour ago, two hours ago. The sky is dark, as dark as she’s ever seen it. You can’t see the moon from here - not at this time of night, anyway. No clouds, no distant cities reflecting light in the sky; just a blanket of speckled stars overhead that offer nothing in the way of a guiding light but whose presence adds an extra layer of warmth over the towel wrapped around her bare shoulders as she makes her way to the water. She walks out to the end of the dock and lets the old towel fall, shivering as it grazes her back before landing in a heap at her bare feet perched on the last wooden plank, toes hanging over the water, wiggling through the cool rising air. Why had she come out here, alone in the dark like this? She feels anxiety creep up behind her back, turned towards the dark forest’s edge; she feels it tickle her toes which she so badly would like to dip into the water below but can’t, picturing an image of the lake twisting into a void and pulling her into deep water. Deep breaths. She turns towards the house a ways back into the woods and considers picking up her towel, going back inside. The lights are on; she can see through the trees. Music plays. It isn’t loud, but she can hear it. It’s warm inside. The water is cold. She feels goosebumps forming. She looks out over the water one last time and pauses, mesmerized by a shimmering white light beaming across the lake, guiding her into the dark. Behind her, the moon has risen over the trees. She hears the music inside fall silent. She doesn’t mind. Nightswimming, she sings REM to herself, kneeling down to dip her toe in, Deserves a quiet night. She jumps.

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