Breaking the mirrors surface, he erupted from the calmness. Water shattered in waves all around him and his arms flailed for something, anything. Breathless and panicking, he found a hanging rope. Or was it thrown to him?
The rope was icy and fraying, and it stung his fingertips. His body ached. His muscles were cold and wrenching as they struggled to give him the strength to crawl from the water. As it dripped from his body, it felt thick and heavy and it stuck to him like blood. He screamed, vulnerable and dying again. Dying all over again, freezing.

Kneeling on the snowy, wooden pier, he was alone. It was quiet and there was nothing.

He was beyond the water. He was above the surface.

Looking back into the lake, there was no reflection. He could feel the depths gaze upon his escaped soul like it had betrayed them. He could felt it surround him, strangling him and tearing at him. His hands clenched and he rolled onto his back. Breathing. He drew his knees close, fearing hands would reach out and take hold. The edge of the pier grew closer with each apprehension that played in his mind.

Suddenly there was no edge, and he was standing.

He was shaking, but he was standing. The first step was stiff and his knees nearly buckled under the weight. The next step felt death defying, and there was an enormous thud as his foot thundered against the wood. The knowledge that he hadn’t fallen after that was just enough to warrant a third step. With each pace, it was warmer. The water was just water now, casually dripping and coursing down his body. They were like scars, melting from his body in tiny, furious, rivers. As he slowed, finally stopping at the end of the pier, he met the sand with dry feet. The sand was warm, as though there was an invisible sun to crisp what grains were free from the lake.

To set fire to the hearts of men who dare be called dead.
~

He’d spent all day at the office. His boss knew it was a public holiday, and he knew Jack could have used the day off to prepare for his exams. Those exams would allow Jack into the weekly planning meetings, and everyone knew Jack was a far better planner than the section boss. Jack’s boss knew it too, and so he never gave Jack the chance.

It was cold and he’d forgotten his jacket. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he could have sworn they’d turned purple. They ached and cracked as he slipped them into his pockets, making his way down the stairs to the subway.

He was alone on the platform, as always. No, not alone. There was a looming loneliness, a body that slept beside the vending machine. It groaned as the last train’s approach was announced. Fifteen minutes. The groan bounced across the tiles and down the tracks, eaten by the shadows. Jack approached the body. It was a boy, and he was dressed well, it seemed. He looked out of place, lying on the ground, wrapped in a dirty sleeping bag. The boy ran his hands through his hair and turned his head to meet the face above. He pulled himself up slowly, arching his back.

“Are… you okay?” Jack asked quietly.

The boys vibrant blonde hair stuck to his face like the sun to the evening sky. He looked up at Jack with sky blue eyes that seemed to alive while the rest of him was dormant around them. His face was odd. It was familiar, but there was something… inhuman about him, something ethereal, and he radiated a foreign intensity.

He lounged back against the wall.

“Have you seen a man with long black hair? He’s pale, with grey eyes.” The boy asked. His voice was strange, too, almost musical – like a string instrument, it seemed to twang with each sound, carrying right through to the next word. It faded when he stopped speaking, as though he’d stopped playing.

“Uh… I don’t think so.”

The boy glanced down at his watch, shaking it down to his wrist joint, “What does your watch say?”

Jack’s watch was four minutes fast, “It’s 2:48”

The boy stood up. He looked much younger as Jack saw him as a whole, he couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He was lithe and wore a suit that was far too big for him. It was well worn and looked as though he’d been wearing it constantly. Perhaps it was just old.

“I’m waiting for the black haired man, with pale skin and grey eyes.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. He glanced at the timetable flashing on the screens. It was 2:45, fifteen minutes until the last train. Fifteen minutes to find conversation, or avoid it.

“What’s your name?” Jack cleared his throat, “I’m Jack.”

“…Jim” The boy spoke with that stringy voice that seems to go on forever until it stopped. His name sounded magical when he said it.

Jack nodded, rocking on his heels. He nodded at the vending machine, “Did you want something?”

Jim shook his head. Jack fished through his pocket, running his fingertips across the change. He watched the boy studied the tunnels, leaning over the platform and turning his head to look down both ways.

“Hey, be careful over there.” Jack told him, fetching his chocolate bar from the tray as it tumbled off the shelf.

Jim didn’t answer him, and Jack could hear the crunch of gravel. He cocked his head to see Jim venture off into the dark, following the tracks. He ran towards the edge of the platform, slipping to a stop on the tiles. He couldn’t see him.

“Jim?” He looked down the other side, “Jim! The train will be here soon…. Jim?”

This is what you get for talking to strange people, Jack, He thought to himself.

“I’m not coming after you, Jim.” He paused, waiting for an answer. Why wasn’t he answering?

“I don’t know where he’ll be.” He heard a voice from behind. He stood up, turning to face Jim, who was sitting back on his blankets, “Part of me doesn’t believe he’ll be here. I don’t trust Logan. I want to, but he’s never liked me, and so he treats me like I’m not even worth the space I take up.”

Jack sighed and walked back over to him, “I thought I saw you jump down onto the tracks.”

“You did?” Jim sighed, “No. I thought about it, but I’m not wearing shoes and it’d hurt my feet. It was probably just the shadow, it is one of those darker nights, after all.”

Jack looked to the platform and then at Jim, “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you ever heard or seen things in the dark? You could have sworn they were there, but when the lights are on it’s no different?” Jim narrowed his eyes, “It’s not a bad thing, the shadow. But I wouldn’t trust it.”

Jack looked around, that coldness coming back in an instant.

They were alone on the platform. No. Not alone.
~