The Lake, Pt. 4

Here’s the whole thing if you’d like to read it in one sitting.

“Well, hell.” Tam kicked the loose pebbles and dirt under her boots and listened to the detritus scuttle away in the dark.

She shivered again, and huffed an exasperated sigh. Shaking her head, she stiffened her back, drew a deep breath, and started down the path at a slower pace. No sense in breaking her neck.

She never caved in to a fear before, and had no intention of doing so now. With arms still folded over her chest — and she didn’t know whether to keep her jacket closed or to brace herself — she progressed toward the dark stand of trees ahead of her. She let her footfalls reassure her, focused her eyes on the looming dark cave of trunks and overhanging limbs ahead, and ignored the pounding heart in her chest.

Besides, she couldn’t say why she was afraid, or of what, so it was irrational. Her natural curiosity was stronger. She coupled it with her determination not to leave until she found out why children fear this lake, hummed a country and western favorite soft in her own ears, and pushed forward.

The darkness of the grove swelled up and over her faster than she expected. She felt herself slow down, eyes locked on the darker shadow rising in the dark night, blotting out the stars. The bright white orb of the moon stabbed through the tangle of branches at the crest of the goliath sentinels encircling the water. Faint and distant, she heard the gentle lapping of waves against the bank. The grasses and weeds underfoot softened, and the air temperature dropped further.

Tam slowed, stopped, listened and stared. She couldn’t hear anything, and waited for forms to materialize out of the black miniature forest in front of her. They didn’t. Not tree trunks, not undergrowth, not the vaguest hint of path — nothing.

It occurred to her the flashlight may have been pretty important.

She dropped her fists onto her hips, winced when she hit a bruise from her tumble, and pursed her lips in thought.

The internal debate raged. They were only children’s ghost stories; why was she so nervous? She tried and failed to force herself to relax. She knew if she could see her hands, they’d be shaking. She tapped an impatient toe.

“Well,” she spoke aloud, and her voice startled her, “I come this far already. Why stop now? Might as well go for it.”

She set her shoulders, and plunged into the black cloud of the grove. She noted the ground slope eased as she progressed. It would be almost level at the shore.

A clammy and cold touch settled in her the second she entered the inky woods. She stopped again. The mossy bed of the grove cushioned her footfalls. She wouldn’t hear anything else moving in it, either, and she had a sudden bout of second, third, fourth thoughts snarl her neurons, tugging her back the way she came.

She looked over her shoulder, nibbled her lip, and considered.

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