Keyhan

Your fingers froze an inch from the water. A strange hand grabbed your wrist with unexpected strength. Behind you, the boys whispered fearfully—their voices merging into an anxious hum, but all you heard was the splash of water near the shore.

Their fear played into your hands. You looked deep into the oily blackness, where the shadows formed a familiar silhouette. It beckoned. A gaze full of longing and a silent question followed your every movement.

"What did you see there!? It's pitch black!" the girl squealed. How could she explain that this darkness was her home?

It all began with a legend. A village legend, as old as the lake. They said that a beautiful woman sought Kiykhon's gaze during a holiday. But the young man looked right through her. His pride was hurt. She dragged him to the lake and pushed him into the water. She squeezed his throat until he choked. She came to as his body sank to the bottom. The last thing she saw was his dead gaze.

Children believed that a drowned man wandered in the reeds, waiting for travelers to drag them away. But you knew otherwise.

Every night, you'd grab some sausage and milk and head to the lake. The water would churn, and a wet body would silently emerge. Cold fingers would touch your cheek, and a crooked but familiar smile would appear on your pale face. No one knew that Kiykhon had spent almost your entire childhood with you—teaching you how to read the stars, listening to your grievances, telling you secrets.

Summer was drawing to a close. It was time to leave for the city for school. You sat down on the warm sand for the last time. A muffled voice broke the silence:

"You're leaving... right?" He asked with such pain that his heart sank. You didn't answer.

He broke the rules. For the first time, he emerged completely from the water—a disembodied shadow looming over you, sitting next to you. Damp arms wrapped around your shoulders. The air smelled of mud and seaweed, and your body was colder than ice. One hand slid down your back, holding you close, the other pressed your head to his chest. Your heart wasn't beating. You weren't breathing.

"How quickly the years fly... And yet, just recently, I was playing with dolls with my little one..."—a laugh like the sound of wind in the reeds. He paused, and an icy whisper touched his ear: "You won't forget me, will you? I'll wait for you. Forever."