Day 523

Their candles flickered as they hung dangerously close to the water, praying that their movements wouldn't cause the small lights to die out.

The dark fins swarming all around them were only kept at bay by the flames they held precariously in their hands, in their mouths and balanced on their heads if possible.

They didn't like the lights you see, hated the warmth they brought just like they loathed the sun itself.

Sunlight makes them retreat down to the trenches they've dug in the midst of the lake, right towards the small island's edges and probably right underneath.

Candles will do in a pinch but torches are preferred, the brighter and bigger the better.

In this case they used candles on small iron holders specifically for a coming of age ritual.

Make it to the island and back after sunset as intact as possible though nobody had ever come back completely unharmed, most had scratches or missing toes.

For some reason the swimming folk rarely killed, only wounded enough to slow the young people down enough that they could raise their bulbous heads above the water and whisper to them.

You never forget their faces, not once you've heard them speak, not once you've seen them smile.

I remember the one that just floated in front of me, bit off three of my toes and blocked my path to the large wooden beams that we used for halfway points all along the lake.

It just bobbed there, face inches away from me, silent.

That was unusual for them, they loved to torment whoever came into their turf by describing how they'd kill and eat their loved ones, how they'd tunnelled under our village and were waiting.

Or worse - that they'd already struck, waving freshly cut toes and fingers, old bones or whatever human body parts they had with them at the time.

My one never said a word, didn't even smile, it just stared right at me.

I took a risk with it - it was the only way to get to warmth and safety - I lashed out at it with my candles and caught it right in the eye.

Then it made noise, shrieked like the devil himself and caused all the others to go into a frenzy the likes of which had never been seen before or since.

We lost eight young folk that night - the most we'd lost in one go in all our history.

Everyone assured me I'd done what was natural at the time but I felt their anger at my back every damn day since and I hardly blamed them, I blamed myself too.

Between their silent hate and the swimming folk's noisy patrols (they'd started hissing and jumping out at anyone near the lake since that night, snatching the odd child too), I chose the lesser pain.

Now you choose young'un, choose like I did.

You can't get past me, can't even hope to outswim me or my kin so choose.

Choose who dies - you or everyone else?