Watercoloursby
TomCubisComment by K3Master: Something had drawn his attention that day. As he passed the tiny pond, more a slough than a solid body of water, something had flashed and caught his eye.
He stopped, the pleasant walk in this marsh suddenly disrupted, and with a tilt of his head looked into the water where he thought he had seen whatever it is he thought he had seen.
For a moment, there was nothing, and he was about to pass it off as a trick of light when, *flash*, there it was once more. Without much of a thought, he suddenly grabbed a stick, and had anyone been with them, they surely would have noticed the look on his face and perhaps tried to stop him. His face showed a goofy kind of grin, but went suddenly devoid of life. A kind of paradoxical expression, but there it was. Slowly, he inched towards the water's edge, leaned down, and poked the stick towards the area where that flash had been. That amazing flash. That wonderful, wonderful flash.
Then, with no warning and no sound other than a quick escape of a whisper as the air rushed in to fill the spot he had been, he was gone. Something, there under the water, had seized that stick, and in less than a half a second he was gone, pulled in with it, with only the growing rippling of the surface to show that anything had been there.
Time then began to move on, and the birds resumed their singing, and the breeze resumed the rustling of the grasses, and he was never heard from again.
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