Nightmares lie beneath the surface.
 

the pond, a dark fathomless pool, pulls the house into its wild fishy frontier, furrowing the garden, uprooting cabbage and rhubarb, spilling knickknacks out of canted windows. Even Grandma's old dresser plunges into the depths, pulse of former generations, drowned with mud, newts, and the skeletons of fish; a fossil for future times. Previously published in Eclectica, October 2004