ripples

The lake was beautiful. Surrounded on all sides by mountains. A few log cabins by the shores. It was peaceful, quiet, and clean. There were usually never disturbances on the surface of the lake. Today, there were ripples.

The log cabins were empty. They would soon be populated. The weather was finally getting better. People would come to their summer homes. People would have the time.

There were ripples. A hand was struggling, just above the surface of the lake. Beneath it, a concerned body was trying hard not to drown. Attached to it were two heavy stones. It would drown. The man attached to the hand was frantic. One thought, oxygen. Another thought, stones. He used both hands to try to propel himself upwards. It didn’t work. His lungs were screaming. His eyes were blurry, and hurt with all the water.

The sun was peaceful and calm. It was high in the sky, a noontime sky. The air was fresh and clear. Breathing it in was powerful. The oxygen here was clean.

He tried again. Nothing. One mighty heave. One more. He breached the surface. Gasping, sucking in long draws of breath as he slowly sunk back under it. The sound of his gasps and the splash of water was loud in the otherwise silent air. He kept gasping until he started choking as water started to slide into his lungs. At least there was some oxygen in his brain now. He could think. He had to dive down, untie himself from the stones. Now that he didn’t have to worry about breathing, he realized how tightly they had tied his feet to the stones. His feet were hurting, blood supply cut off to them.

Birds flitted around, from one serene tree to another. A few squirrels chattered. The smell of greenery hung heavy in the air. Sweet, cloying, powerful.

He dove, fighting the rush in his head. Fighting the pain. Face contorting as he was dragged deeper. He knew he wouldn’t get many chances. His hands and arms didn’t have the strength to claw out of the water again. His oxygen was limited. He needed to make these count. He found the ropes. Thick. He felt his way up and down the first. His eyes hurt. He closed them.

The mountains above stood and watched. Guardians of this valley that all of them had formed together jointly. This baby that they had made. They stood and watched, and would till the next plates shifted, or till the end of days.

He undid the knots. The first one slipped from his foot. It was screaming. Blood was rushing in to it. It had feeling now. He started on the other one. His head was getting light. Dizzy. He slowly shook his head in the water. He failed. His fingers were slipping. His torso was drifting upwards. He tried again. He undid it. His eyes closed. The stone slipped off.

A strong gust of wind blew through the valley.

He shook his head, and swam for the shore. He passed out there.

When he came to, the first, and the last thing he saw was a gun. “Shit” he muttered.