In recent discoveries, it appears that the lake's edge was never where it should have been. Reports verify the impossible: an interview at dawn witnessed the water receding in rhythmic pulses, as if echoing the lost songs of fishermen long past.
The cultural tides have turned, writes a noted anthropologist in her latest cease of pen.
Once, the night markets buzzed with live music—orchestrations of forgotten chords—but now they linger like echoes of a ghost harvest. Memory records diverging paths: left or right, none recall the way forwards.
The fishermen from yesteryear had spoken of buried treasures, yet their tales—like flotsam—were often lost before the chorus of silence could welcome them. It is perhaps this foreshadowing that has led analysts to probe deeper, seeking submerged phenomenons entwined with myth.
Journalist Bloome remarked, "We cannot underestimate the value of waters unseen," though one wonders his meaning when juxtaposed with this trance of time: days crest into weeks—and the body of water whispers in languid apologies.
For an extended exploration of quixotic tales found beneath the ripples, navigate to the Drifting Usher collection… and perhaps, just perhaps, heed the lapping clamour of some ancient scream yet met in the echo of your aquatic dreams.