Summer Swim

Short Story

June 2025

I remember the muscular body as it moved easily through the water, piston like legs driving its mass swiftly across my field of vision, its graceful motion still visible although blurred by the particles of sediment and the currents that swirled them. The poetry of the motion brought thoughts of happier days and tears pushed their way from the corners of my eyes. Tears that were lost in the murky water that surrounded and engulfed me. The horse passed overhead, taunting me with its effortless buoyancy and grace, it faded from view as swiftly as it had appeared. My instinct not to breathe underwater rapidly became tortured to breaking point and was finally overcome by the agony of running out of air. On the verge of losing consciousness I fought to remain aware as my mind bent its will against me until I finally gave in.
My mouth opened spasmodically in a silent scream dragging water into my mouth and windpipe, pain seared its way into me, filling my throat with a scorching flame as the drowning began in earnest. Water flooded my lungs and ended any waning transfer of oxygen and I felt my heart slow as its Death-Nell beat faltered. Painfully half-conscious and enfeebled by oxygen depletion, I was in no position to fight my way back up to the surface now, even if I could have. The tangled netting around my feet and ankles seemed to tighten. As if recognizing my desire to kick out, it gripped me with steadfast security to my watery grave as I felt my life slip away.
I floated above myself and watched from a distance as the globe that was my final breath slip almost sensually from my lips. It clung, as I had to life, to my face until it too finally succumbed to the pressure and let go, floating silently upwards as though carrying my soul with it. Buffeted by a slight current it rolled and swayed but remained intact, never realising its cargo until it pushed through to the surface. I watched as it broke through and released its precious interior with a sigh as though carrying its contents had somehow been a burden. My final breath gone, and with it I dissipated in the cool night air until, I too, was gone.
Smooth, oval rocks lined the bank of the secretive lake, overlaid with spongy moss and framed by fallen leaves. Its silvery surface warmed by the summer sun but sheltered from unwelcome eyes by a copse of trees which surrounded it, a rigid pine forest, stretching along the side of the road- rising high, around the solitary lake. The lake water, newly swollen by unseasonable rain, lapped around the ashen boulders, and was pierced by thick beams of wood holding up a makeshift pier. The structure was remnants of a period lost in time when families from the nearby village would picnic along the lake shore and fathers would launch their laughing children into its crystal water.
The wake of a startled horse drifted across the lakes surface before striking the Half-cut beams which lined the sides of the pier, creating a secular reflection through the ripples in the languid water. A minor disturbance that gave no indication of the drama that had occurred below. As night began its slow descent a mist pervaded through the trees enveloping them in a shroud of drifting fog. There was no chattering or chirping of birds; no growling of bears and no chuckling of contented otters; instead, the clearing lay desolate and still, as though it never wished to have witnessed the events that had transpired. Only a silent lonely willow, seemingly shivered as the days last breath filtered through its mournful branches, the only witness to the swimmers final resting place. Serenity descends, washing over the scene in tune with the gentle motion of the small ripples as they delicately whisper over the pebbles and broken branches that festoon the shore, innocently inviting you to step in and wash your sins away.

It was a while before I had the courage to visit the lake and when I did I just stood silently on the pier, thoughts dolefully meandering around my mind. It had seemed like an eternity before we found her. She was an avid open water swimmer, always looking for a new place to try. We had warned her about venturing out alone, but she preferred it that way, alone and free. Looking round I can see why this place appealed to her, it’s remarkable how camouflaged these places are. Appearing as focal points of calmness that we so need in our tumultuous lives. It’s so peaceful here. Occasionally, the water bubbles when a fish comes up to grab a fly, or there’s a flutter of duck wings, or a fleeting glimpse of a dragonfly zipping by, pursuing its prey. But nothing really breaches those waters. Like a blanket, the lake’s surface conceals its contents - betrays its true depth, betrays the cold current below, you can’t see the rotten branches and detritus that snag and stab, you would have no idea that there are rifts at the bottom that can pull you in before you can cry for help and the nets that can keep you there. A lonely tear falls unashamedly from my eye, I hope she had the time to at least enjoy part of that day, they said it was more than likely cramp, her being such a strong swimmer, but I suppose we will never really know.
After a last look across the surface of this lonely place I turn and slowly move away. If the night is clear and cloudless, if there’s no wind to ripple it up, then the polished black might even reflect the moon and stars.
I wonder if they can be seen from below.