I was 11 when I made the mistake that still visits me in my dreams.It was one of those lazy summer afternoons when the sun feels bored of shining and even the birds seem tired. Our colony had a rule never go near the old canal. Adults called it dangerous. Kids called it a myth. And I, like most kids, called it an invitation.
That day, my friends dared me.
"Just touch the water and come back," Rohan said, pretending not to be scared.
"Or are you scared?" someone laughed.
I wasn't scared. At least, that's what I told myself.
The canal lay behind a broken fence, hidden by wild grass and rusted warning boards. The water looked calm, almost friendly. Too friendly. I remember thinking how quiet it was no insects, no frogs, nothing. Silence should have warned me, but childhood doesn't understand silence. It only understands challenge.
I crossed the fence.
The moment my shoe touched the mud, it sucked me in slightly, like the ground was breathing. I laughed nervously and leaned forward to touch the water. That's when I heard it.
A splash.
Not mine.
I froze.
The sound came again closer this time. I turned back to call my friends, but the fence looked farther than it should have. They were still there, but suddenly… very quiet.
"Stop joking," I whispered.
Then the water moved.
Not flowing.
Not rippling.
Moving.
Something brushed my ankle.
Fear doesn't scream immediately. First, it whispers. It tightens your chest. It makes your hands forget how to work. I tried pulling my leg back, but the mud held on tighter, like it knew I was panicking.
"Guys," I said louder. "This isn't funny."
That's when Rohan shouted, "RUN!"
I didn't need an explanation.
I pulled with everything I had. My shoe came off, but my foot was free. I stumbled backward, scratching my arms on the fence, not caring about the pain. Behind me, the water splashed violently, like it was angry I escaped.
We ran.
Didn't look back.
Didn't talk.
Didn't breathe properly until we reached the main road.
That night, I didn't tell anyone. How could I? I was warned. I had disobeyed. Adults don't listen to stories that begin with "I wasn't supposed to be there."
But the mistake didn't end there.
Two days later, news spread that a boy from another colony had slipped into the canal. They said the mud was deceptive. The water deeper than it looked. Some said they heard strange sounds near it at night.
I stopped going out after sunset.
Weeks passed. School reopened. Life moved on, pretending nothing happened. But some mistakes don't leave marks on your body. They stay in your mind, waiting.
Years later, I went back.
I don't know why. Maybe guilt. Maybe curiosity. Maybe the part of me that never fully escaped that day.
The canal was quieter than ever. The fence was completely broken now. No warning boards. Just water pretending to be harmless.
I stood there for a long time.
And then I heard it again.
A splash.
This time, I didn't run.
Because the sound wasn't coming from the water.
It was coming from behind me.