The Waning Days of August
Prompt:
“In the waning days of August, summer vacation draws to a close. A child discovers something buried in the sand at the bottom of the lake.”
Time to Go
Trevor LaForce
Her vacation would be over in about an hour and a half, and he still hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell her.
That was nothing new. He’d been dying to tell her he wanted to see her after they left the lake every summer since they’d been nine years old. He’d pined for her for three seasons of each year for a third of his life.
And there she was, face-down in the water a few feet away as she scrutinized the bottom of the lake.
“What are you so focused on?” he asked when she came up.
“There’s something down there,” she said, muffled by her mask.
“I know,” he said. “We dove down last year, remember?” The rusted carcass of a diving tower, scuttled after the tragic death of a child his dad refused to discuss further, had dared decades of vacationing kids to investigate.
“No,” she said. “Under it. It shifted over the winter. I’m going to look.”
She dove.
No, stay up here with me and let me tell you something, he thought helplessly.
He fretted. Eventually he followed, squinting through the clouds of dirt and algae she’d kicked up.
Finally, the wreck came into focus.
Movement.
Someone? Someone about his age, bloated, fishbelly pale, milk-white eyes flashing, rotten teeth gnashing beneath ragged gums, impaled on the rusted pipes, half-buried. And the someone had her face in its hands.
Thrashing, a plume of blood and mud and rust, no visibility. He scrambled upwards, lungs burning. He tread water, trying to see any sign of her, shaking, mute.
When the water cleared, the structure was rubble. There was no someone. And the only sign of her was her mask, settling into the silt.
On the shore, her parents called. It was time for her to go.
Bella’s Point
Stephanie Chapman
I’ve been putting it off this whole vacation. Today’s the day I jump off Bella’s point, named after a kid who died here in the 70s. Lots of kids have died.
Just as many survived. I watched the older kids make the jump all month. None of them smashed their skulls on the rocks like Mom said they would.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing at the top of the cliff, looking down into the dark green water. My legs are shaking and I’m worried I might piss myself. At least there’s no one around to see.
Mom and Dad have been calling for me the entire time. They know I’m scared to make the jump, so they wouldn’t think to look for me here. But they don’t know how badly I need to do this. Cool kids make the jump and don’t chicken out. But I’m not one of the cool kids. Not yet.
No matter how bad the plunge is, the bullying when school starts next week will be worse.
That’s it. That’s what gets me moving.
Before I know it, everything is cold, and wet, and dark. It takes me a minute to tell up from down, but I did it.
I did it!
I spot the rocks at the bottom, right under where I went in. They don’t look so bad from under the water. No big deal.
But…
There's something beside the rocks, like it hit them and tumbled off before sinking into the sand. I swim closer.
Hair like seaweed on a head that’s caved in on one side. A pale, waterlogged hand floating up like it’s reaching for help. Swim trunks that are the same colour as mine.
Hovering above the body, I stare into my own dead eyes and scream.