Day 631

My parents finally told me where my phobia of water came from.
Turns out I'd tried to drown myself when I was five.
It's why we moved house to a neighbourhood with no swimming pools, lakes or rivers.

I would blame my imaginary friends - I had a house full of them.
They all had names and stories and strikingly individual appearances.
From what my parents said the only problem with this at the time was they lived underwater.

Their mansion was at the bottom of our old house's swimming pool.
They kept inviting me down there to stay with them.
I vaguely remember strange looking people pulling me into the water and how it burned my lungs.

My parents assumed I grew out of it when I hit twelve, I stopped talking about them all.
I didn't have the heart to say that they followed me from house to house until I turned nineteen.
Over the years they changed to the point where they just stopped being people anymore.

Last time I saw them they were elongated shadows with eyes the size of my fists.
They still wanted me to go to their home and stay, to drown and join them.
I still remember what it looked like.

The floor was either made of bones or so covered in them the floor wasn't visible at all.
Bloated bodies floated at the tops of the rooms,some still struggling to breathe.
Seems they had many other friends than me and most had joined them.

They were all my size too, such tiny little bodies and bones.
As I grew older my imaginary friends would bring bones to me as presents, calling them treasure.
They'd say it was made of silver and offer me riches enough to build my own castle.

I wonder how many thousands of children fell for that.
Or how many parents were too slow or didn't notice anything.
Or how many survived like me, only to see their distorted faces in every pool of water.

I can see that house in puddles, in heavy rain, in wet mirrors.
Always tinged a deep blue, with figures flitting all around and inside, carrying children with them.
I haven't seen any children come out so far, perhaps I'm the only one.