La Casa In Fondo Al Lago Direct

Luca swam through the open front door. His flashlight beam cut through the dark, resting on a wooden table where a porcelain cup sat, still upright. He moved toward the back room, his flints echoing strangely in the pressurized silence.

He shot toward the surface, lungs screaming. When he finally broke the water, the sun was setting. He scrambled onto the shore, gasping, and looked back at the lake. La casa in fondo al lago

Luca kicked hard against the glass, the sound of the ticking growing deafening, drowning out the bubbles of his own breath. Just as his vision began to grey at the edges, the glass shattered. Luca swam through the open front door

Panicked, he checked his oxygen gauge. It was dropping rapidly, far faster than possible. He turned to leave, but the front door was no longer open. In the window, he saw a reflection that wasn't his: an old man sitting in a rocking chair, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the water to stop rising. He shot toward the surface, lungs screaming

The water was a perfect mirror again. He looked at his wrist to check the time, but his waterproof watch had stopped. The hands were frozen at exactly 12:06.

On the wall hung a massive grandfather clock. Its hands were frozen at 12:06.

As Luca reached out to touch the glass, a sound vibrated through his chest—a heavy, metallic thump . Then another. The clock was ticking.