The road went on past the lake up the mountain following the land like vines coming down spreading through the valley, and the mist had pulled itself over the lake like a blanket making all things under it fade away. Looking across the water it was hard to imagine that this was some place real.
A boat was already out there. Privately owned but the owner was an old man named Paul and he would often let the tourists use it to go fishing.
I walked over to the cabin, each step making that distinct sound the wet mossy ground makes like stepping on soaked pillows. Paul was sitting in his chair looking at the tourists in his boat trying to fish.
A very gentle man.
He had this sort of iconic glow to himself that only old men with lots of life experience have. Sipping his pipe and correcting the position of his hat like he was deliberately considering himself to be a Hollywood cliche.
I think he likes that to be honest. “Howdy boy” he said while blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Hey” I answered in the ever so modest tone I have been clinging on to my entire life. “Who are the people in the boat?” I asked leaning on the wooden pillar behind him.”Americans. Apparently one of them is a teacher, can’t say which one though.” Paul stood up and poured some dog food into his dogs bowl.
“Americans? Way up here?” I mumbled, looking out at them. one could barley tell there was two people in the boat though I could not make out any facial features, you would have to be counting silhouettes. The taller one seemed to be talking allot, the other one seamed sort of displeased to be there, resting her head on the side of the boat. “You mumble allot,” Paul frowned while petting his dog. “Yea I have been told” breathing out while sitting down next to him.
The dog was some sort of German shepherd, his brown eyes was staring at me. Sometimes I wonder if animals can hear the words I speak inside myself. I have conversations with them this way, seems silly but then again all the best things are. “What’s his name” I asked, “I was going for Fido, but that was kind of uninspired. We landed on Poet,” Paul gave Poet two pats on the back before going to sit down in his chair again. “Poet ha? Yea, you seem like you might have allot to say,” I was petting him, as he lay down across my feet.
Such a quiet mourning, looking over the lake. There was something weird about it though. Like it felt uneasy. The dog felt it to I could tell, I stared deep into the dark blue water. The ripples following the edge of the lake.
Concentrating on the ripples I noticed something strange, something not quite right. Why is there an inconsistency in the patterns? There seemed to be an additional layer of ripples cutting across the rest in an unnatural angle.
The light of the sunrise breached the threes crawling over mountain top spreading across the water. For a second I almost though I could make out a silhouette down there. “There is something in the water” I whispered.
Poet started barking, and the wind suddenly started playing on the old wooden walls of the cabin. “What? Kid you really need to stop mumbling” Paul said leaning towards me. I looked at him. “The lake, I saw something!” I raised my voice. “What are you talking about, their… “He froze, I looked back at the lake, and the boat was gone. Nothing but the ripples expanding from a circle in the middle of the lake where the boat had been. “Where did they go?”
By Samuel Mork Bednarz.
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