Pish. Pish.
Joshua jolted awake, nearly dropping the newspaper into a puddle. His hand grasped the swivel chair.
Frantic eyes scanned the pool. The cover, black as night, remained as smooth and stable as before. It did not flutter.
The pavement was clear.
And the community pool was empty. Quiet. Kids no longer shrieked and splashed and laughed.
Joshua sighed, then leaned back.
His eyes closed. Darkness enveloped him, wrapping the security guard in its chilling fist. Silence reigned.
Pish. Pish.
Pish. Pish.
The sound of wet footsteps.
Then, the smell hit.
Jolting awake once again, the newspaper finally slipping from his lap, Joshua got up. He grabbed his flashlight. One click was all it took to break the night.
Light illuminated the scene.
And what he saw was enough.
The hammering in his chest stopped, and the security guard felt his fingers loosen. The flashlight fell. It rolled away.
But even when the darkness had returned... when it obscured the pool and its covering and the moonlight-white pavement... he could still see them.
Them.
The footprints.
The small footprints, belonging not to adult intruders. Five-toed. Pudgy-toed.
The small, pudgy-toed footprints looping around the pool.
The small, pudgy-toed footprints looping around the pool, dull crimson, dried crimson.
A giggle from somewhere close by. No. Not close by. From above.
Joshua turned towards the booth, his oasis from the outside. He did this without thinking. Too fast.
Too fast.
Fast enough for him to catch the sight of a pale, childish face, eyes dark, mouth dark, skin glistening with non-droplets.
Blonde hair sticking up. Fingers gripping the edge of the booth's roof.
Dried crimson streaming down, down, down, splattering the security guard in the face. The face ducked away from sight. Retreated into nothingness.
Into the pool.
