The Lake

The waters below me surged, as if alight with the very fires of hell! Open mouthed, they began to crash against my rocks ravenously, more like a sea than a lake. I turned my face away from the sharp drops, my tears running hot against the stone pressed to my face. It was then that I realized to the fullest extent that what I dealt with was no ordinary magic.
The fact that I live to tell the tale is proof that there are such things as miracles.
I waited many many hours, my blood and tears mixing against the stone’s surface. It was long till daybreak, but I refused to give myself over. Finally, with the first rays, the water shrunk back, as if burned by the sun. I shakily stepped off the rock, now with holes bored through it (I’ve heard that the children have taken to calling it sponge rock?) and the water gave one half-alive ebb before retreating for good. My dog was nowhere to be seen.
I haven’t touched those waters since, and the only reason I bring it up now, is because of the curious case I heard of yesterday. A fisherman, hopelessly trying to catch something within the lake, pulled up something much more sinister than he knows. A necklace. The pendant: a simple orb, filled with ash. I don’t know where this... this thing had begun, or why, but I do know I continued the chain...
May God have mercy on my soul...