I used to have this fear of swimming alone when I was a kid. I knew it wasn’t rational, I knew it didn’t make sense. But every time I went underwater, and I was alone in the pool, I would get this over whelming feeling that something was watching me. Something that shouldn’t be there. Or maybe I shouldn’t be there.
Nothing ever happened, although I never did go swimming by myself that often, after all I was terrified of it. Eventually, after 10,000 other fears and experiences I forgot all about it. I grew up, moved away, and to be honest never really had a pool after that… until now.
I’m 36 and I just bought a house with an in-ground pool. I thought I’d start swimming in the mornings to get some exercise in. It’s supposed to be good on your joints.
It was after that first dive in, when it was barely light outside and everything was gray, that that old fear crept back in.
A familiar tightness started to build in my chest.
I don’t know. I felt like a fool, or a big baby, or something. I mean I’m a 36-year-old grown man that’s scared of the aquatic boogieman.
To my credit, I didn’t get out immediately like I used to. I laughed to myself a little, and I pushed through it. The feeling stayed with me, but I kept swimming.
Nothing happened the first time. Nothing happened the second time, or the third or the fourth. But the fifth time, the fifth time was different. I was in the deep end and my lungs were burning for air. I was close to the wall, so I was getting ready to do a twist/flip underwater and thrust back off the wall in the opposite direction.
To my surprise, before I could start the twist part of the maneuver, my foot hit something. It was hard and rough like sandpaper. It was nearly in the middle of the deep end, exactly where nothing is supposed to be, except this time, nothing felt a whole lot like something.
I frantically spun around to see what I had kicked; my heart was pounding.
Of course, I was all alone. Needless to say, I was done swimming.
The next morning, I stood at the edge of the pool in my swim trunks and stared into the deep end. I’d convinced myself that I had just been tired, and a childhood fear was playing tricks on me. But as I stood there next to the water in the dim morning light, I knew I wasn’t getting in. I turned and walked back inside.
The next few weeks passed without incident.
I’d see my wife sitting on her float reading, or my kids splashing around in the shallow end, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want them to think I was being weak and paranoid, or possibly even schizophrenic.
I told myself that it was all in my head. But still I kept an eye on them, just in case.
The nightmares kept it present in my mind. A dark shape swimming and cutting through the water. I thought I was developing a phobia or something.
3 days ago, I found half a cardinal floating in the water. I don’t know what happened to the other half. I told my family I needed to drain the pool just in case it was contaminated.
The kids complained but I could finally get some sleep.
Last night I woke to find that my wife wasn’t in bed.
I went to the bathroom, but she wasn’t there. Next, I went to the kitchen, thinking she needed a glass of water, but she wasn’t there either.
Something caught my eye out of the kitchen window. It was her.
She was standing frozen in the moonlight at the edge of the pool. The water hose lay on the ground next to her slowing filling up the deep end.
I suspected that she was sleep walking, so I quietly opened the back door and eased outside. I didn’t want her to be startled awake and accidentally fall in.
I tip toed up to her and as I got closer, I could hear the water sloshing around. It was far too loud to be from the splashing of the water hose.
Closer and closer I crept until the edge of the partially filled deep end came into view. The water was choppy, like the ocean. Suddenly a large dorsal fin cut across the surface and terror struck me to my core.
I grabbed my wife around the waist and pulled her back. She started screaming that “It needs more water!” repeatedly. After a few minutes I managed to calm her down and bring her back to reality.
By this time the sloshing of the water had stopped. I cautiously walked up to the edge again, but nothing was down there. I turned the hose off and we went back inside.
After talking with my wife about what had happened, she confessed that she had the same childhood fears as I did. She said she loved laying on her float and reading but the thought of even dipping a toe in the water was terrifying.
She didn’t know why or how she was filling up the pool that night. But she said she was dreaming of a large dark creature swimming in the water.
I don’t think it’s this pool, I think it’s me and my wife.
This thing has been watching us. Biding its time and curling its’ tailfin for years, waiting for a chance to creep back in.
I’m filling up the pool with dirt next week. The kids will be upset but they’ll get over it. We’ll get a dog or something.
The important thing is they’ll be safe.
I hope they never learn about what lurks in the deep end. I’ll do my part; I’ll never tell them.