Scarlet Lake

The sun is dark. It’s a false shine that gives people hope, and guides them through times of darkness. A flame in the pitch black world of security and safety we live in. The very same shining sun that reflects off the water. The water of the oceans, the lakes, the rivers, and the puddles. It makes them, maybe, even more beautiful. But not now. I live where it does not. I can see the darkness within the light. I’m no optimist, but not even an optimist could find the light that should reflect off the surface of the water. Everyone thinks that the surface of a lake is typically serene, beautiful, and still. But they are so captivated by the sight that they forget. There are things under the surface of the shining lie: only I know what they are. And it’s a horrifying knowledge to have. It cost me my life.

I wandered across the edge of the lake, eager to find out it’s secrets and the secrets of what surrounded it. It was beautiful, there were all kinds of animals and insects, most of which seemed impossibly magical. This was my favorite place on earth. I had no idea about the danger and darkness surrounding it that would eventually be what led to the end of me. The true beginning of my short lived and joyful life. The end of what had all been a lie, the beginning of the painful truth. Maybe I would have cared if I could still feel that pain.

I was, as most children that age were, careless and easily excited. I was contented by the smallest of things, pleasant surprises, and knowing that there was what seemed to be an entire world waiting for me to explore it.

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