It was an excruciatingly hot summer, the kind where the sun refuses to relent and even the breeze felt like hot air. My family always takes a yearly vacation to our cabin near the lake, where the fresh water beckons and the trees rustle serenely.
This year, our trip was no different, save a few extra odds and ends that needed to be packed; extra sunscreen, ice packs, and hats to name a few. The canopy of trees overhead undoubtedly saved me from blistering under the predatory sun, providing a soothing filtered shade as I gazed out over the lake. I should mention that I’ve been visiting this lake for most of my life and I’ve never encountered any significant problems.
In my naive mind, I viewed the lake as a sort of personal anecdote, always giving me safety and peace whenever I needed it. The lake is vast, spanning a wide area surrounded with boulders that hint at the possibility of menacing rocks underfoot. Swathes of reeds are anchored in the ebb of the waves, flanked by groves of trees bunched up cross-necked, as if to chitchat over something we will never know.
One evening, midway through our vacation, I decided to take a boat out for a casual row. My family decided to stay back at the cabin, preferring the comfort of the A/C to the outdoors. I pushed myself off the dock and rowed clockwise, going around in a full circle. The blue-green plain of the lake was clear and the white, just-strong-enough strokes of my oars broke silence to create auditory perfect arcs in the water.
The only other sound was that of the leaves rustling in the wind, and an occasional crow cawing from a tree here or there, all of which I found oddly meditative. As the sun set, I began making my way back to the cabin. The water continued to be smooth under my rowboat, and the sky was luscious shades of pink and indigo as the sun slowly but beautifully disappeared behind the mountains. As I started rowing faster, I heard a soft thud from the boat stem.
The oars kept matched pace but I paused, listeningIt took me only a second to realize that I wasn’t alone out here. I swiveled my head around to look behind me, but there was nothing to be seen except the mirror-like ridges of the water. I shrugged it off and kept rowing, in an attempt to get back to the cabin as soon as possible.
But then, I heard it again, this time louder and more definite. The sound that came from the stern of the boat made my hair stand on end - it was the sound of something scraping against the boat. Petrified with fear, I began to row in a frenzy. The sound grew louder and more rhythmic as if something was trying to climb onto the boat.
I rowed with all the strength I had, my legs and arms pushing rhythmically even as my heart pleaded for me to speed it up. A wave of relief flooded through me as I finally made it back to the dock. I scrambled out of the boat to see if there was anything there… and that’s when I saw it. A black, creeping creature with eyes like two tiny cutouts was staring back at me from the surface of the lake. I froze for what seemed like minutes, then bolted back to the cabin, barely aware of the fact that I was still holding the oars.
I burst into the door of my family’s cabin and collapsed with the words spilling out of my mouth. “There’s something in the lake!” My voice was shaking so much, my entire body felt like it was wracked with nerves. My mother tried to comfort me and reminded me that it was probably just a beaver or some other animal living in the lake.
But I knew what I saw. That thing had radiated menace and malevolence. I spent the rest of our vacation scanning the shadowy surface of the lake each time we went down to the water, hoping I would never again see that creature. But the sight had scoured and stuck itself in my mind, and that summer our annual trip to the lake didn’t have any of the usual peace it was supposed to give.