The Lake: A Short Story

The Lake

The world was silent, and the air was crisp.

The morning snow was just beginning to melt, and semi-frozen puddles slosh underneath Micah's feet as he trudges down the path to his neighborhood. His breaths come out in short, visible puffs of air and he can already tell his ears and nose were bright red from the cold.

The windbreaker he wore did nothing to prevent his bones from rattling and muscles from locking up. He scolds himself for thinking that wearing something so thin would save him from anything in this weather. In his head, Micah can already hear his mother's berating voice.

"What in your right mind gave you the idea to do that?" She'd say. "You have a perfectly wearable puff-coat in the closet, yet you still have the nerve to grab the thinnest jacket in the house!", he groans. The coat sure did sound nice at the moment. In the midst of his freezing self pity, he decides to look around at the scenery of the path. The skeletons of frozen trees stood tall at the sides of the trail, and the grass is brown and covered with stubborn patches of ice. The world was always silent before and after it snows, which gives the entire area a peaceful setting; it was almost eerie. Micah lets out another steaming puff of air and tries to enjoy the environment.

It was all fine until he saw the lake.

His feet cease their constant rhythm, but he didn't notice; his eyes are focused solely on the frozen surface of the water.

It wasn't necessarily the lake that made him stop, but more of what was within it. A flicker of black catches his eye in the midst of clear and white, peaking his curiosity. With hesitation, Micah steps off the trail to home and makes his way towards the water.

A pair of black converses float underneath the icy layer. A chill runs through his body. Why are these so familiar? He thinks, I mean, nearly everyone has this brand of—

Then he looked down at his own.

Those were his shoes. They had the same exact green sharpie-marked soles, and blue-dyed laces. It was far too familiar. How could that be possible?

With a flicker of the light and a slow turn of his head, he realizes that the shoes are attached to something. Or someone.

He saw the face.

It wasn't a reflection, but him. The same dark, short hair and closed piercing in his ear fills his sight; frozen, glassy eyes and blue lips stare back at him.

Terror rushes over Micah like a bucket of ice cold water. He stumbles back, tripping over his own feet as the blood drains from his face.

Underneath the surface of the frozen lake, was a dead body that looked exactly like himself.

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