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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 smashed the window with my dive knife and shouted into the house that I wasn't staying. The water carried my voice strangely, doubling it. From inside, four voices answered me word for word, half a second behind, learning how I sounded. They were practicing to be me. By the time I reached the boat, my own crew couldn't tell which of us had really come back up.
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