The Depths Below

Jaclyn moved into her new home at Applegate Estates on Old Hwy 90 in late September. The house was perfect in every way—quaint, quiet, and complete with a backyard pool. It sat still under the fading sunlight, an eerie calm surrounding it. Despite its beauty, something about the pool unsettled her, a strange heaviness in the air whenever she looked at it.

The neighbors had mentioned it, albeit cautiously, speaking as if the pool were taboo. Mr. Williamson, the elderly man down the road, gave her a parting piece of advice that stuck in her mind. "Don’t go near it at night," he warned in a gravelly voice, his eyes locking with hers for just a second too long.

Later that evening, as the crickets began their nightly song, Jaclyn couldn’t resist. What could possibly be so bad about a nighttime swim? The water, shimmering under the crescent moon, called to her in the silence of the evening.

She walked out to the edge of the pool, its surface impossibly still. The quiet unnerved her, yet something within beckoned her closer. She dipped her toes in—the water felt oddly warm, too warm for the cool night air. She dismissed the uneasy feeling creeping up her spine and slid the rest of her body in, the warmth enveloping her.

Jaclyn swam slowly, floating on her back, the stars above her twinkling in the inky black sky. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness, letting herself drift.

Suddenly, something brushed against her leg. Her eyes snapped open. The pool was empty. She scanned the water’s surface, the same stillness staring back at her. It must have been her imagination. Shaking off the thought, she began to swim again.

Then, it happened again—a cold, slimy sensation grazing her ankle.

This time, the feeling didn’t stop. A grip tightened around her leg, pulling her downward. Jaclyn gasped, panic shooting through her chest. She kicked and thrashed, but the force was too strong. She looked down and her breath caught in her throat.

A face stared up at her from beneath the water. Pale and bloated, its hollow eyes wide with hunger, its mouth twisted open in a silent scream. Long, tangled hair floated around it like dark tendrils. It was no longer just a brush against her leg—something was pulling her under.

Jaclyn fought with every ounce of strength she had, kicking and flailing, her arms reaching for the pool’s edge. But the more she struggled, the stronger the pull became. She glanced down again, her heart racing with terror. The figure’s decayed hands were now fully wrapped around her ankle, dragging her deeper into the abyss.

Her head slipped below the water’s surface. The warmth was gone, replaced by an unbearable cold that seeped into her bones. Her vision blurred, and her lungs screamed for air. Desperate, she reached out one last time, her fingers brushing the pool’s edge.

With a final, adrenaline-fueled kick, she managed to claw her way out, collapsing onto the cold stone patio. She gasped for breath, shivering uncontrollably as she looked back at the water.

The pool was still again.

But just below the surface, in the moon’s reflection, she could see it—those empty eyes staring up at her, unblinking, waiting. Whatever it was, it hadn’t let go. Not fully.

From that night on, Jaclyn couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched whenever she passed by the pool. She never swam in it again, but sometimes, in the dead of night, she’d hear soft splashes outside her window.

And every morning, the water remained just as calm, as if nothing had happened at all.

But she knew. Something lived beneath.