It froze over in the bitter cold, trapping bits of trash, stray garbage can lids, two seasons' worth of forgotten toys and a pumpkin carcass, frozen in mid-rot.
Here and there, jaggged chunks of old brick, tossed by the boy for no particular reason, jut out of the ice just far enough to be dangerous.
Blood will be spilled. I am sure of it.
The photographer sees none of it.
He shuffles along the ice with his camera, looking at his feet. He crouches for a closer look. He turns over a chunk of ice, a dead leaf.
He sees stuff that isn't there. But it's worth a second look.
Photos by Rick McCawley