I stared into the dark. Far-off lights reflected, shimmered and danced on the roiling water. The river washed everything downstream while the lights sparkled in one place. It was all illusion. Somewhere, deep below, hidden within the weeds and muck, buried, lurked other things. Things that wouldn't, couldn't, be washed away. Unseen. Unknown. Waiting. Life had moved on, but, like the lights on the water, I was stuck in one place. And I dread the horrid things buried within. Hard-boiled? or only poached in Ta