Sometimes, on those hot summer days, it’s isn’t the heat that gets you, it’s the water. Quiet. Patient. Watching. It remembers the ones who step too close, who linger too long, who forget that ripples are warnings. Sometimes the voice beneath the surface sounds like your own. Sometimes a scar blooms after the river touches you. And sometimes, when it drags you under… it doesn’t let go. First, a scar you can’t escape Followed by summer summons monsters Finally in our last story, echoes from the drowned Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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Sometimes, on those hot summer days, it’s isn’t the heat that gets you, it’s the water. Quiet. Patient. Watching. It remembers the ones who step too close, who linger too long, who forget that ripples are warnings. Sometimes the voice beneath the surface sounds like your own. Sometimes a scar blooms after the river touches you. And sometimes, when it drags you under… it doesn’t let go. First, a scar you can’t escape Followed by summer summons monsters Finally in our last story, echoes from the d...