The Lake

Written By Mudga, for a schools blind workshop.

Standing by the lake, my eyes drink in the sight of the serene and calm water. I watch as the lake dances in perfect ripples, almost as if the water itself has feelings and motives.

 If only my life was that still, that serene, that clean. If everyone's lives were like this lake, war might not rage, people might not hate…

I push these absurd thoughts from my mind, why hope for something that seems so impossible? 

Edging my way towards the lake, I hover my tarnished hands above the lake's surface, allowing my hands to absorb the cooling air that bounces from the water's lips. 

Shuddering breaths fill my lungs as I submerge my hands into the water. The sharp coldness startles me, but only for a moment. 

Instantly, clouds of vibrant red bleed into the lake's once blue atmosphere. I scrub the blood from the cracks and creases of my palms, ensuring that every last drop of the ghastly substance is deducted from me. 

I draw back from the lakes edge, and find myself, once again, gazing at the water. 

Even this beautiful lake, that was so pure and clean, is tinted by evil, I think, as I watch the blood creep throughout the lake, staining it red.