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The Skin of the Lake
horror◐ Mature5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
Halfway up, my lamp caught a row of photographs still hanging on the wall, glass intact. A family of four, smiling on a dock. But in every single photo, their faces were turned away from the camera now, looking down the stairs, toward me.
I turned to go back down, but the photographs were closer now, every frame slid to the edge of its hook. Then the family in the pictures stepped out of the glass, one by one, dripping onto the stairs between me and the open water below. They came up smiling, and there was nowhere left to go but into their arms.
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