The burning lake in the sky

The burning lake in the sky

At the end of a sagging dock the sun’s fading embers tinted the sky red, red so bright it was hard for Janet to look straight at it. So she didn’t. Her eyes avoided the crimson expanse, seeking shelter in the ocean’s stunningly clear waters. There were hardly any waves, and there was hardly anything left inside her. She was wrung out like a rag.

She’d set her grocery cubes on dubious purchase, the dock’s soggy edge, and had sat here, legs dangling, and supposed she might cry a little or at least have ten minutes of peace. But something was glinting beneath her toes, beneath the water, reflecting the sky’s red. Janet was pretending she didn’t see, pretending she was at peace, and couldn’t see the locket beneath the waves.

It wasn’t her locket. She’d never seen it before. She’d never even been to this dock before. But locket wouldn’t leave her alone. Internally, she cursed herself, then scolded herself for cursing herself, then tried to remember what her therapist had said about scolding yourself in your own damn mind.

She was going to spend the rest of her life wondering if the locket had been empty or not, and all she had to do to avoid that fate was fish it out. Was she bad for wanting to know? Or not being able to stop wanting to know? Couldn’t she spare a few minutes of effort to stave off a lifetime of wondering?

Maybe. She got to her feet. Her shoes thudded down the dock.

On the shore, she found a withered branch, thin, nearly ten feet long. She carried it to dock’s end and plunged it deep, aiming for the locket’s silver heart, a thin heart, distorted by refracted light. She got the branch’s tip under its chain, lifting it free, creating a slow motion storm of sand and dirt which swallowed everything, blocking the shine from her sight, so all she could do was pray the silver chain would rise from the water, divinity on the end of her stick, gleaming and hopeful.

But the tide tugged too strongly, and her brittle branch snapped. She wasn’t even angry. She tossed it, watched it float, and waited for the water to settle. There was a smarter plan, wasn’t there? Smarter than poking at a necklace with a stick?

Her hands dug past soggy vegetables and wet sacks of rice, reaching deep into her grocery cube, and closed on orange plastic. She ripped a wand free from cardboard gone soft, cardboard with the words Great for arthritic fingers! written across the top in blocky letters.

“Have a little technology, hun,” she said, aiming the wand at the flashing beacon beneath the sea. “Have a little help for your shaky hands. Didn’t even make it home without using you.” A beam shot from her wand, illuminating the locket like an angelic spotlight. With no great hurry, it began to rise, drawn by the gravity of her magic, the wizardry of electronics. The gleaming necklace shuddered and swung left, pulled by a current as it neared the surface. It broke the water, hovering through the air, drifting close, sea drops falling from its heart.

Kzzzcht said the little wand in Janet’s hand, without warning or apparent reason. The light went out, and the locket plunged into the water with what seemed like a purposeful plunk. Janet threw the worthless wand after it.

“Fine! Fine! You wanna fucking play with me? Fine!” Janet was tearing off her clothes. Her hoodie, her leggings, her socks and her bra, her wrist implant, her phone, everything except her panties and shirt. Indecent exposure enforced by drone? Not on her watch. She stood in front of the colorful pile of clothing, put her hands above her head, a penetrating point for her dive, and took the plunge.

She’d known it would be cold, and it was. It was like having blankets ripped away as you slept, if you were in the fucking Arctic. But she’d known it was coming. Anything she saw coming, she could endure. She hadn’t thought about the darkness though. It had been easy to see the locket from above. Now the ocean covered her eyes with its blurry fingers. She was twisting left and right in the gray, eyes searching the sea floor. She would have given it all up and gone home if she hadn’t seen one last glint. Down here it was dim, but it was enough. Her fingers closed around the chain, wrapped it tight around her wrist.

When she was back on shore, panting and dripping, toes digging into sand as wet and dirty as she was, she held out her glimmering, silver-heart prize, and popped the clasp.

The locket burst into brilliance, swelling and growing and changing as Janet backed away, just enough, a polite distance from the emerging man made of light, who was growing in the air, a silhouette, at first. Then his features came in, his dark hair and bushy brows and a forehead that made Janet want to run for the hills, for they’d be far less craggy, but in the end, when he was done forming, sneakers sunk into the sandy beach, he looked like an alright guy.

“Hey, thanks,” he said, adjusting his shirt uncomfortably, eyeing Janet’s dripping arms. “I was stuck in that locket for a while.”

It wasn’t like she was going to ask for a hug. She shrugged. “No problem,” she said. “Happens to everyone.”

“Still, I appreciate it.” He pulled a glinting, silver watch from his pocket. For a second, Janet thought he might offer it to her. Instead he clipped it around his wrist, and gave her a wave. “Okay, thanks again!” he said, and jogged away.

Janet, shivering and dripping seawater, watched him until he disappeared over an embankment. She collected her grocery cubes, dumped a small amount of ocean out of them, rubbed exhaustion and salt from her eyes, and set off barefoot across the beach.