The Song of the Bay

Hollowshore's isolation wasn't just geographical-it was spiritual. The town clung to its secrets like barnacles to a rotting ship. The bay, with its black waters and unnaturally still surface, had its own gravity. Locals claimed it whispered to you, called you by name, and once you answered, you never came back.

There was a song children sang to scare each other:
Down by the bay, where the watermelons rot...

They'd laugh, but the laughter always felt forced, their eyes darting toward the water's edge. The adults never joined in.

One rainy night, a man stumbled into the local bar, drenched and babbling incoherently. His clothes were shredded, and his hands bled from countless cuts. The bartender, a grizzled veteran of the sea, recognized him as Jonas Dredge, a fisherman who had vanished years ago.

"Lillian," Jonas whispered, his eyes wild. "She's coming. She never left."