Chapter 1
I heard it. I swore I did. I told my mother then my two little brothers. Of course, my little brothers, who were both under ten years old, laughed and nodded their heads. I think they believed me, but with the little ones, you could never be too sure. Even if they did believe me, they forgot about it the second after I told them.
I went to my older sister. She was laying on a lounge chair, soaking in the sun, wearing a two-piece bikini, oiled up in sunscreen.
I said, "Amy, there's a little boy trapped under the dock. He was screaming my name."
She lifted her head and looked over me, smiling. "And how does he know your name?"
"I don't know," I complained, fearfully. "Aren't you gonna help him?!"
"I'll come-in in a little bit."
"But he'll be dead by then."
"I'm sure he can hold his breath," she said, half-laughingly, returning to her position.
I rushed into the water, waist-high, and began swimming towards the dock. The sunlight was hot, bright, and young. It was eleven AM and our house--which paralleled our little private beach--sparkled like a giant black pearl.
I climbed onto the dock and looked through the creases in the wood. I saw nothing. Nothing other than dead crabs and rotting fish.
"Hello," I said.
No answer.
I dove into the water, came to surface, then, with my eyes opened, went underneath again, and peered under the dock. I saw something. A shadow. It was vague, but undeniably there. Again, I came to surface, then, after taking a deep breath, I went under, and swam over to the shadow.
It was a boy! He was turned away from me. I couldn't see his face. I touched his shoulder causing his lightweight body to turn around and unveil its hideous face. Cold, pale eyes, tucked deeply inside his sockets, and blue lips, cracked and scarred. His tongue, which I could only see because his mouth hung open, loosely, had been gnawed on and (half) eaten by fish and other sea-creatures.
I pushed him off of me, fearfully, holding panic in my every expression, and quickly surfaced. My mother, sister, and brothers, were exactly where they had been. My mother was playing with Michael and Eddie in the shallows, and my sister, sunbathing on the shore.
I swam to shore. My mother, turning her attention to me, said, "Honey, you wanna..." But she froze. Then, suddenly, she asked, "Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost?"
Tears began to rush down my face. I ran over to her, my mother, and wrapped my arms around her. I didn't say anything. Not for a good minute or two. Then, I said, "He's dead. He's under the water and he's dead."
"Who's dead?" She asked, confusedly.
"The fisherman's boy. The one on the news."
She seemed a little unsure, possibly confused, possibly afraid. She said, "Well, that must have been two years ago. You wouldn't be able to recognize him if you..."
A friend of the family, a nearby neighbor, came over and swam out to the dock. Amanda, mom, and I watched from the shoreline. He took a deep breath, disappeared underneath, and returned with a terrible expression painted across his face.
He returned to shore after gazing at the dock for a good three minutes then nodded at my mother, sorrowfully. My mother--as well as Amanda--looked at the dock then turned around, entered the house, and called the police.
