Jason Brooks

It was the same soldier he threw across the room when he learned his father wasn't coming back.

The same one he buried in the backyard while struggling to understand what a training accident was.

Over 30 years later, Jason still didn't understand why his father was taken from him.

He liked to think that if he'd lived, Jason would be a better man.

He would have known how to support his mother, how to have a healthy relationship, how to fix his own damn car.

His mother did her best, but he needed a father too.

A boy needs a father.

He didn't realize he was crying until a teardrop fell onto the tile with a small splash.

He shook the memories away and stood on shaking legs.

The radio was still playing the familiar tune, as if he didn't know any other songs.

Jason's clothes were lying in a pile next to it, along with a towel.

He quickly dried himself off and dressed, thankful no one else was around.

He tucked the toy soldier into his pocket on his way out the door.

He paused at the pool, suddenly noticing its strange shape and texture.

It looked like it had started out as a rectangle, but someone had either gotten very creative or very drunk as they carved it into the earth.

And the water, it looked almost solid.

He bent down for a closer look.

There appeared to be a thick membrane on top of the water, like jello.

And underneath, something was moving.

Or someone.