I froze. Solid like a statue. Th-this cant be happening. Am I going mad or is this actually real? I looked at the picture more. The face was a bit blurry but the blond curly hair and red hoodie was defiantly mine. Stop Greg, there are other people with curly hair and a red hoodie.... Right? I want so sure at the moment, everything seemed surreal.
The phone rang again. I picked it up, "hello?" " Greg help me Greg!" ~click~ i threw down the phone. WHAT IS GOING ON?? I looked at the letter again. Every person needs me to survive, but breath me in and you will die. What do we need to live but cant breath?? Oxygen... No thats stupid. Maybe a... Liqu-. The answer hit me like a brick. Water, we need water to live but we cant breath it in. I checked google maps for lakes in Charleston. Colonial lake. Basically the only freshwater lake in Charleston. That should be it. I checked to see how far it was from johns island. 20 minutes? Thats closer then I thought. I grabbed my keys and the brown bag and made my way to Colonial lake.
YOU ARE READING
WRITER
FantasyGreg is a fiction writer trying to find a story line for his new book. He gets a mysterious phone call one day and takes a chance to see if he can get the story he needs from it. Will he get the story or are things not all what they seem to be??
