The Spirit was in his usual place, the eerie, hazy, mist-shrouded body of water. The weather was equally scary, with grey skies, as if a storm triggered, somehow, by the spirit - were to hit. He observes. Waiting. For an unwary victim to slip and fall into the water that claims their lives. Traps were everywhere in this area to trick people - adults and children alike. Slippery banks, weak tree branches, and more.
"I told you I'd be back," he intoned, gazing ahead, not moving a muscle. "and I am back... No one sensible to stop me this time..." The wind howled uneasily as he stood there, hidden from sight.
"Only fools would traverse this dangerous area," he continued, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "But there are still ones born every minute."
He had claimed thousands of victims who had drowned... and he wasn't about to stop now.
"It's the perfect place for an accident, no matter how hard they try."
No one expects to find the Spirit, a faceless, black-clad figure here... It seemed too ordinary. However, the Spirit stood there, all day and all night, never tiring of watching the waters closely. He never thought twice about leaving. It was his job to claim victims who face the water's wrath. And no one was going to prevent him from doing that. It wasn't a hobby; it wasn't an interest; he was there... because he died by the water's depths himself one day. He then was chosen to guard these waters and claim others if they had the same fate.
Of course, Spirit had learned his lesson - to not play around in deep lakes...
... People did not heed this, and suffered the consequences. It annoyed him; the thought of so many people not paying attention. But it happened. Oh, it did. How could they not of known they were going to die by the water's merciless plan to drown them if they did not know how to save themselves? It was fairly obvious. However, it just seemed to continuously occur despite that... and the Spirit of the Dark and Lonely Water continued guarding. And claiming.