Where do they go?

January 9th

I heard the grown ups say more people visit the bottom of the lake than the town itself.

Apparently, they never return. The people in the lake I mean. I’m not sure why really. Why would you not come back? Mr. Samson says that really cold water can take your breath away. I guess that’s what happened to those visitors, they lost their breath. I wonder what they’re all doing down there, still. My brother Danny says they’re all dead and rotting with only their eyeballs and hair left. He can’t swim though so I think he’s lying. If they’re dead why doesn’t anyone go in and bring the bodies out? Doesn’t anyone miss them? What about their parents? I wonder if they just prefer it down there, quiet and alone away from the life up here. 
 

January 24th

The town next to the lake is strange, I suppose. It’s all I’ve ever known so I don’t have any comparison. Kids at school say they would never live here, and I wonder what it would be like to leave but Dad says we can’t because of his job. The grown ups keep to themselves mostly and nothing ever exciting happens here. A lot of people go missing, though. I asked Dad about it but he says people go missing all the time all across the country and as sad as it is, it’s not special to this place. Where do they go?


February 4th

The pier is one of my favourite places to be. It’s old, rotting in places. Dad tells me not to stop here on my way back from school but it’s part of the shortcut I know and I’m always very careful. The water is a murky grey, and when I close my eyes I feel nothing but calm. Cold too, but calm. As I sit alone, I think about doing exciting things that I’ll probably never get to do because we can’t leave and then my mind drifts. I think about the people missing, and the people at the bottom of the lake. My toes touch the icy water sometimes which makes me gasp and I open my eyes and forget everything for just a second. I think I’ll go there tomorrow.
 

February 22nd

Two weeks ago on February 6th, I was there, stopping again briefly on my way home from school. It was colder than usual, but I wanted to sit on the pier just for a short while. The water was choppy. I must have been lost in escaping to a sunny European city when I heard a splash. My school bag had been blown into the water. I panicked, laid down flat and reached down into the water to grab it. I was so close. I reached as hard as I could, then I felt the pier rock. I fell in and lost my breath. Mr. Samson was right after all. It felt like someone had grabbed my ankles and thrown me in. It was hard to open my eyes in the freezing water, and I spent a few minutes thrashing wildly - I can’t swim either. I forgot about my bag.

I went under the water. Pressure built in my head and chest and before I blacked I saw where the visitors go. White, beaded eyes glinting from the lake bed, sunken into what seemed like thousands of faces attached to bodies of the missing, simply standing still and staring at the surface. I was to become one of them, I was sure of it. Eternally trapped staring into an abyss that was now home. 
 
March 17th

I thought about telling Danny what I saw, but he’s the curious type and wouldn’t think twice about diving in to see for himself. Nobody has asked me about what happened, which feels weird. On TV you see people getting interrogated all the time about stuff like this. Why didn’t the town care? Dad had come to the spot as I wasn’t home at the usual time and because of the bad weather, came looking for me. He saved me, but didn’t save my bag. That’s with the visitors in the lake now.