"Strange," he said, softly. "Strangest thing I ever saw. She's been dead a long time."
I repeated his words.
He nodded. "Ten years, I'd say. There haven't been any children drowned here this year. There were twelve children drowned since 1933, but we found all of them before a few hours had passed. All except one, I remember. This body here, why it must be ten years in the water. It's not---- pleasant."
I stared at the gray sack in his arms. "Open it," I said. I don't know why I said it. The wind was louder.
He fumbled with the sack.
"Hurry, man, open it!" I cried.
Ray Bradbury, The Lake
