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Write the short story collection I’ve been putting off for years

Paint the three commissions I’ve managed to secure

Drink wine on the porch while watching sunsets

Think about my ex exactly zero times (starting now)

Maybe, possibly, hook up with a local if the opportunity presents itself (though given the remote location, this seems unlikely)

The cabin has no TV and spotty cell service—perfect for forcing me to focus on myself. I’ve even downloaded meditation apps that don’t require an internet connection, though I suspect I’ll use them exactly once before deciding that wine is a more effective form of mindfulness.

By the time I’ve unpacked and settled in, I’m sweaty, so I change into my swimsuit. If I’m going to wallow in self-pity, I might as well do it while floating in that gorgeous lake.

The water is surprisingly warm as I wade in, soft mud squishing between my toes. The late afternoon sun sparkles on the surface, and for the first time since 'The Betrayal', I feel something close to peace. I push off and float on my back, eyes closed against the sun.

“This is good,” I tell myself. “This is healing. Just me, nature, and absolutely no—”

Something brushes against my leg.

Something slick and… moving?

I shriek, flailing in the water, my peaceful float turning into a splash-panic-doggy-paddle toward shore. “Nope, nope, nope! I’ve seen this horror movie!”

I’m about ten feet from shore when something wraps around my ankle. Not seaweed. Not a fish. Something with… grip.

“What the f—” I’m yanked underwater before I can finish.

The world goes silent and blue. I thrash, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, my lungs already burning. Through thewater, I see a shape—a humanoid—but… not quite right. Long, undulating tendrils extend from its form. Are those tentacles?

Just as black spots appear in my vision, I’m thrust upward, breaking the surface with a desperate gasp.

“What are you doing in my lake?” The voice is male, annoyed, and coming from right behind me.

I spin around, treading water, coughing and sputtering, water going up my nose, to find myself face-to-chest with the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

If you can call him a man.