Short story to try and cure my inability to write anything decent... that, and "Snow Angel" is currently in dire need of more plot, which I can't supply...

Beneath The Surface

"Oh, Poncho..." Megan groaned.
The little dog had blundered into yet another shrub, and was looking around with milky eyes as if completely lost and confused, which, with his cataracts, he was. Megan sighed and picked him up as he made small sounds of bewilderment, then put him down facing forward on the sidewalk.
"There," said Megan as Poncho found his feet. "I know it's not your fault you're old and nearly blind... guess I should stop being such a reluctant seeing-eye person."
The two walked on through the freezing night air. They were starting to leave the safety of the glow cast by the parking lot's streetlights. As they walked (or, in Poncho's case, stumbled) down the half-dozen wide concrete steps, Megan realized she had forgotten her flashlight. It would have come in handy; they were approaching the dark shadows of trees near the lake and it was becoming difficult to see the path.
"Come on, boy..." Megan called. She tried to lead Poncho back in the direction of the neighborhood, but he leaned and tugged on the leash, insisting on venturing into the darkness. Sighing, Megan let the dog pull her down the sidewalk to where the path around the lake began.
The darkness was almost suffocating until Megan's eyes adjusted a bit. She could then make out the path and the individual trees and rocks... and a few paces away, the lake began. It was frozen except around its edges; between the shore where she was standing and the ice, there lay about ten yards of water. Blacker than the night sky and smooth as a mirror, it glimmered eerily in the light of the crescent moon.
Shivering, partly from cold and partly because the stillness of everything was starting to bother her, Megan turned to where Poncho was eagerly sniffing a patch of ground. As he wandered to and fro in the grass, Megan looked around at the grey-black night. There was no winter wind to make the woods creak and rustle, and no night creatures stirred the quiet, thick air. It was calm to the point of suspicion; the only sounds Megan could hear were her own heartbeat and Poncho's little dog-noises.
"KER-SPLASH."
Megan wheeled around in surprise, looking for the source of the noise. All she saw were ripples running across the surface of the water, echoing away like a dying scream. She looked up, scanning the branches, wondering if something had jumped from a bough into the lake, but the trees were motionless as ever. Megan glanced back at the water to find that it was once again still as glass. "Freaky," she murmured, shivering again and turning once more to Poncho.
Poncho was now standing like a fluffy gargoyle at attention, sniffing cautiously, obviously as startled as Megan. Still nothing from the lake.
Out of nowhere came a voice...or was it a voice? To Megan, it sounded more like feet dragging through dead leaves than a voice.
"You're late," it whispered in the dark.