Dark Waters -

He dipped his oars into the water, careful not to break the surface with a splash. In Blackwood, noise was an invitation.

Fifty years ago, his brother, Thomas, had fallen into these waters. They’d been skipping stones when Thomas slipped. Elias remembered the splash—a heavy, final sound—and then... nothing. No thrashing. No bubbles. Just the lake smoothing itself over like a closing wound. The divers never found a body. They said the lake was bottomless in the center, fed by subterranean rivers that could pull a man down to the roots of the world. Dark Waters

The fog didn't just sit on Blackwood Lake; it breathed. It was a thick, cold lungful of silver that swallowed the hemlocks and turned the water into a sheet of polished obsidian. He dipped his oars into the water, careful

He didn't jump. He simply leaned forward until the center of gravity gave way. They’d been skipping stones when Thomas slipped