The Pool That Calls Mom

The pool was never meant to speak.

Hidden behind wrought iron gates and swallowed by shadow, the water lies perfectly still, black as ink and cold as a grave. At night, it whispers. Soft at first. Familiar. A voice only children hear. A voice that sounds like Mom.

Those who listen are drawn closer, step by step, until the surface begins to ripple and faces form beneath the water—pale, waiting, remembering. The pool knows names. It knows fears. It knows how to sound like love.