People are still at the lake. Noisy people with flashing lights. Noisy cries. Two people hold each other tight. Beds that move for wet boys with closed eyes. Red wet boys. Still red. Yellow lines around your spot. Noise and flashing lights. You will sit far away but close enough to see.
You sit in the reeds. Your egg whispers. You hold it under the water and watch it sing. Watch it sing and see the green eyes of the water. Different colors, different shadows, the water man now sits next to you. Green skin, fish skin, plant skin. He smiles with sharp teeth.
“There are bodies.” He says. His words, his tongue, bubbles in muddy water. “Bodies in the Home. Not-fish who not-swim. Not-fish sometimes swim here, but you brought not-fish to not-swim here. You brought food.” He licks his lips. Long tongue. Snake-tongue. “But not-fish come, take back the food. We like this less. They know you brought it. They hunt you little one. They hunt you and when they catch you, maybe they do the same. They bring you to Home while you not-swim. They offer you as new food. I will like that very much. You will taste good to me and my brothers. I will probably start with your eyes.” Water man just talking, talking like other days. Then he talks to the reeds, and birds fly up into the air. Birds make noise and show where you are hiding.
”Run, little one, or not-fish will catch you and I will have new food.”
