The Lake

• Emma Hennessy, Grade 6, Kurrajong North Public School
• Short Story
• 2018

Finalist in the 'Time To Write 2018/2019' competition

He felt the cool mud pressing against his bare feet as he walked. The deep black lake shimmering dully in the morning sun as he stared at it with grey emotionless eyes. Reaching a reluctant hand into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a photo. He felt the soft paper curl over in his palm as he fingered it fondly, smoothing out the creases. The photo showed a girl. A girl with bright blue eyes that sparkled with laughter and joy. She wore a green dress that rippled at her heels, her golden hair was tied messily back as it blew around her shoulders.
He shoved the photo back in his pocket, ashamed that he stared at it so longingly. In his mind, he could see her, sinking. She showed no emotion as her limp body helplessly sunk to the bottom of the lake.
He remembered running into the water following her as she ventured onward, she held out her hand to him, smiling and happy. Then it happened, the grey sand collapsed underneath her giving way, pulling her down abruptly. Then she was gone.
He was still standing on the lakeside memories playing over in his mind like a broken record. In his hand the photo was crushed swinging limp by his side. He sat down watching the ducks play in the water and listening to the happy chirp of birds that danced above in the sky. The only darkness was the lake, still and eerily quiet.
This was the lake where she left, closed those brilliant blue eyes for eternity and slipped out of grasp. Every now and again on his way to work in the city he saw her face in the crowd, on the busy tramways where every face stared down at screen, watching intently on what it showed or perhaps on the street where no lonely soul pleasured to look up, their solemn faces buried in the collar of their grey coats and pushing each other to get to where their minds were set on going. He paused, time itself seemed to stop briefly. Then he realised. It was done, she was gone. These things happen, and to sit there and hope it was all a mistake wouldn't bring her back. He closed his eyes listening to the world around him, feeling the sun bake his fore head. Now was the time to move on.