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The Skin of the Lake
horror◐ Mature5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
I ignored Dunmore and dove again at dusk to get answers myself. The house was waiting. But this time the front door, which had hung open all day, was shut. Through the window I saw the table, now set for five, with one new plate sized for a grown man. My size.
I refused to go inside. I turned and kicked for the surface, but the lake had gone thick and heavy, like wet cement around my legs. Each kick pulled me down instead of up. The last thing my lamp showed was the front door opening below me, warm yellow light spilling out, and a small voice saying, "Dinner's getting cold."
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