Written for bwarren’s Wordle 411.
The water coursed cold and unwelcoming at my waist, like an unsmiling mother embracing a child out of necessity, and I prayed I had come far enough to find him. I did not know the exact right spot, but from what I had been told, the body had been hidden about here. I steadied myself against the formation of rock that jutted from the lake’s shimmering surface in the shape of a hand. I had sworn an oath to see this task through to the end, but I was afraid.
From the bank chimes rung, seeming too delicate for such an occasion.
“Let us question him!”
“Now! Do it now!”
The voices rang in cacophony with the sounding chimes. I groaned, shook my head to clear it, and took a deep breath. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat so loud in my ears it might have come from the dead man himself.
Everything grew still. I flexed my fingers over the water’s surface then drew them together in an elaborate sign. The sign for a beckoning. Or in this case, for a resurrection.
Silence. Fear that I had failed. Shortness of breath, waiting for something, anything to happen.
A sudden current threatened to topple me. Instinctively I clung to the rock. A murky figure slid under the surface a foot away. My breath caught. I watched as the body I had been tasked to find rose, seeming to melt as it dripped in front of me.