SNEAK PEEK YâALL
âIn the light, Moontide Lake was a beauty. Birds sang and fluttered in the wood that made a half moon âround the water. The air was fresh, the water was cool, and the scenery was as close to Hallmark as anything. During sun-up, the worst thing on your mind was leeches and water snakes.Â
In the night, it became another kind of beast.
The last draining happened when I was six. I remember quiet murmurings about how we must be cursed; how someone unsaintly musta put this tragedy on us; that there wasnât a point in dragging the depths if they never had anything to give. You were a ghost once your foot parted that water, plain and simple. The creeping herbs hid you. The water lilies were your roses. The mossy rocks, glistening in the sun, became your headstone. Moontide took, and it never gave you back. Not once, in half a century.
Not until it tried to take me.â


















