Across the Lake

Chapter 4: The Figure

...

Keeping my fingers from trembling, I grabbed the pile of firewood before closing the door. I kept telling myself it was just the wind collecting the sticks together like they did, but something kept making me deny the phenomenon. Tossing the wood into the fireplace, I grabbed a box of matches and struck a match.

The fire ate up the wood happily and kept me warm in the room. I was too nervous to leave the fire and head upstairs. The storm was making me jumpy. The rest of the house was submerged in darkness. The shadows stretched long and loomed all around me in the living room. The shadows on the large, dead animal's head above me gave a sinister look. I sat on the couch facing the fireplace and wrapped myself up in a soft blanket. The smell of the blanket was musty and smelled like cedar and cinnamon. Unfamiliar scents I wasn't used to. It made me sneeze.

There were other blankets made of animal skins but the idea of wrapping myself in them made me feel ill. Why did my dad buy animal skin blankets? The sheep wool ones were still warm and nice. I found it very morbid, but didn't want to think about it anymore. I watched the fire crackle, pop and burn in the hearth till it lulled me to sleep...

...

I had the same nightmare that night. It was the exact same, with me drowning in the lake again, the water is icy cold, filling up my lungs and blurring my vision; except this time I heard my name. I couldn't tell who was saying my name, but it caused me to wake up, gasping for air and covered in sweat.

I sat there on the couch in the living room, breathing heavily. My heart pounding against my ribcage. This was a huge anxiety attack. I pulled the blankets off my body and rushed to the bathroom on the same floor. I grabbed the pill bottle on the counter. Medicine for my anxiety that my doctor prescribed to me. I poured two out and popped them into my mouth. I chased the pills down with a swing of water. After a second, I splashed cold water on my hot face before staring into the mirror.

Its ok...it was just a nightmare...it wasn't real...But it felt real. Too real...

What was this dream? I don't remember drowning in water. I knew how to swim. My mom took me to a swim school when I was little. I have never told anyone about the dream. Not even my therapist. I felt that it was unnecessary and didn't connect to any of my traumatic moments in life. I took a few huge deep breaths, counting in my head:

Inhale...2...3...4...5...Exhale...4...3...2...1...

My anxiety that felt like a storm on the ocean gradually calmed to a lazy, trickling stream. I felt my body relax and I sighed with relief. After I felt ok, I decided to start my day off right with food. I went into the kitchen, hoping to make myself some food. To my disappointment, there wasn't a lot of food left. My dad did not leave me enough food to last for three months. All there was in the fridge and the pantry was:

A weeks supply of graham crackers

Black bananas

A plastic container of cashews

a bag of half rotten apples

half a jug of spoiled milk

a dry celery stalk

the butt ends of wheat bread

and a few American cheese squares.

I made a mental note to write a list of groceries before going into the town's local grocery store. I felt my heart tighten in my chest. That meant possibly running into that crazy old guy at the gas station again. I shook my head. Maybe not, I'm sure he was practically glued to that seat at the gas station. He didn't seem like the kind that would go and do errands. I could avoid the gas station and not deal with him again.

With that thought, I grabbed a notepad off the top of the fridge and wrote down the things I craved for and hoped they had at the grocery store. I had a weird feeling because I lived closer to the city and not in the middle of nowhere land, surrounded by trees, they wouldn't have "city food."

I decided not to dwell on it and skipped breakfast entirely. I checked my phone to see what the weather was going to be like today, only to remember that there was no signal all the way out here. I had to use my eyes to look out the window. The sun was streaming through the dark wooded trees and the clouds had parted away. It looked like it was going to be a lovely sunny day...with a wet ground. Since it was summer thankfully, the sun will dry it up in seconds.

I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and decided to do a few chores around the house for my dad before starting on what I wanted to do. I went out and collected firewood, cleaned the gutters, washed the sinks and toilets, swept the leaves off the patio, and made the beds in the guest and main rooms.

When I felt I did enough chores, I decided to reward myself with graham crackers for lunch; then spend the rest of the day finishing up the painting I had started of the lake.

I brought out my half finished painting and my easel. I propped them up where I wanted to paint. Then I went back and brought out my cup of brushes and acrylic paints. Once my stool was out and placed under the easel, I decided to take a picture of the set up. It looked like an artist's dream. A getaway from the insane world.

I took the picture and stared down at it. I would have to wait till I was back at my real home so I could upload it to my social media accounts. My stomach twisted into thick knots, remembering that Rod was now living in the same house me and my mom were living in. Reeking the place up. Most likely leaving a mountain of beer cans near the couch for me to pick up. I shook my head. No. I wasn't going to future trip. I was safe, in my own place for the summer. I sat down at the easel and got to work.

...

I saw the figure again while I was painting. I was two hours into the painting when I saw it. I didn't notice it at first until I scanned across the lake again and saw the dark figure exactly where I saw it last time. I stared out at the figure till I was sure that it really was the same thing I saw before. This time I was prepared. I quickly took a picture with my phone and zoomed in on the figure. I nearly dropped my phone at what I saw on the screen.

It wasn't a mirage...It was a person. A real person. Well... I assumed he was real. Thinking about it, I didn't know what was worse: a real person, or a ghost of a person. I assumed he was a he because of the build of his body. Broad chest and shoulders. A hulk of a man. The sight of the man made me a little nervous. What was he doing there? Why was he at the edge of the lake?

I was hoping to just have this whole campsite to myself. I assumed he was out on vacation or hunting, but when I would look at him from across the lake, he would just be standing there at the edge of the rocks, staring down into the dark watery abyss. Just staring. At first I assumed he was watching the fish. After the third time looking over at him, I was starting to feel uneasy. What was he doing? Driving all the way out here just to stare intently down into the lake? Did he lose something? Was he looking for something? I was about to call out to him but stopped myself.

He was a total stranger. If I made my presence known, who knows what he would do.

My blood went cold when he turned his head to me. Stared right at me. His face looked very pale and round. His eyes were black pools. It looked terrifying. After a few minutes, I realized he was wearing a mask, but it still didn't make things any better. It was a hockey mask. Of all the things to wear out in a forest, a hockey mask was by far the strangest thing about him.

The rest of his outfit wasn't a hockey jersey or any hockey equipment, just a dark brown jacket, muddy black jeans, and a dark colored shirt. Black leather gloves covered his hands. Judging by the foliage around him, he looked like a very tall guy. Around 6'5" or 6'6." He continued to stare at me. I quickly turned away, pretending not to notice him as I began collecting my brushes and easel. He was starting to creep me out.

When I looked back up to see if he was still staring, he was gone. That made me pack my things even faster and rush back to the cabin. Nope. I'm not going to deal with that today. Stumbling up the steps, nearly dropping the canvas, I carefully placed my things down on the floor before locking the door behind me. Being inside the cabin made me feel somewhat safe.

After a few minutes of standing in the living room, I decided to peek out the window. The lake looked peaceful as the sunlight glittered across the surface. A few clouds lazily drifted overhead, the lake mirroring the clouds from the ground. The trees rustled and danced to the sounds of the chattering birds and the buzzing of insects.

No figure in sight.

I exhaled a sigh of relief. Then my stomach grumbled. I was starving. I couldn't stay inside the rest of summer with rotting food in the fridge. I needed to eat. No weirdo in a hockey mask was going to keep me from eating. I made sure all the doors and windows were locked up tight before leaving the cabin and going to my car. I checked my pockets: phone, wallet, keys. Got in the car and locked the doors. I turned on the radio and let the music distract my brain from thinking as I pulled away from my dad's cabin and drove down the one road towards the town.

As I drove, I started to think about the figure. The person wearing the mask was most likely trying to scare a few campers nearby. Doing a silly prank that he thought would be funny to put on his social media account. I shook my head and sighed. People were so stupid. All for a few "likes" and "thumbs up." So ridiculous.

After the long drive, I finally saw the town. I parked in an open parking spot right up in front of Samson and Son's General Store. The store was wooden and looked beaten down from the weather. There was an old wooden, carved Native American Indian statue out on the covered front porch next to a barrel of apples. I felt like I had gone back in time when I walked over the threshold into the store. Nothing looked like it changed since the 1800's. Thankfully the food was updated.

I recognized certain colorful cereals and their cartoon mascots. There was family sized chip bags, two liter soda bottles, donuts, muffins, and every assorted candy you could think of. I filled up my basket with half healthy and half junk food. I could feel everyone's eyes on me again. I figured it was because I was a new face in town and had food nearly spilling out of the basket in my hands. It was getting heavy. I hoped I had brought enough money to pay for all this stuff. I put back a few candies and the two liter coke bottle. When I felt satisfied with my food selection in my basket, I went up to the clerk at the cash register and started unloading the basket on the conveyer belt.

As I did, I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned around and felt my heart skip a beat.

Oh God, it's that guy again.

I kicked myself for thinking that I wouldn't run into him again. It was the same guy from the gas station, standing near the alcohol section. He wore the same baseball cap and dark hunters jacket over the red flannel buttoned up shirt. It looked as though he wore the same thing every day and never washed it. His pale blue eyes met mine. He pointed his finger at me like the guy in the 1979 Invasion of the Body Snatchers movie.

"Counselor!" he shrieked. Everyone in the store stared at me. I wished I never left my dad's cabin. The old guy continued to glare at me. "I warned ya kids not to open up the camp again!" he snapped at me. He gripped a nearly finished beer bottle in his other hand.

I placed my hands up and shook my head. "You got me all wrong, sir. I'm not a c-" I started, but he interrupted me again.

"I warned ya! I warned ya'll!"

I wanted to turn invisible and run out of the grocery store. Why was this happening to me? I just wanted to buy food. Now I was being yelled at for something I only knew a little bit about from the radio I was listening to last night. There was a camp opening up sometime in June. Why was he losing his mind over it? It was just a camp for kids. This guy seemed to really hate teens, and apparently I looked young enough to look like a teenager in his eyes.

"No one ever lissens! Now we are all doomed!" he yelled again.

"Alright, Junior! That's enough!" snapped a loud clear voice. I spun around and found two sheriffs standing in front of the doorway of the store. One was around my age, short black hair, clean cut, shaven, and wearing a new looking uniform. The other one was in his fifties, unshaven, messy grey hair, and had a frumpiness to his uniform that had clearly seen better days.

The old man, named Junior, turned his attention to the sheriffs. He sneered, revealing some yellow crooked teeth. He took a swig from the rest of his bottle before throwing it to the ground. It shattered, causing a few of the locals in the store to jump or gasp.

"I warned them teens, Sheriff...Theys never lissen to me...Yous need to do something abou' it...You know wha' day's coming up...He will be here..." Junior said gravely.

The older sheriff nodded. "Yes. I know. Just go home, Junior. You are drunk and scaring everyone."

Junior swayed where he stood for a moment, then he lurched forward, shouldering past me as he did. "He's coming for you, counselor...He's coming for you..." he grunted to me. Then he shouldered past the two sheriffs and was gone. Everyone was quiet for a moment before turning away and going about their business looking at jars of pickled peaches or scanning the aisles for cheddar popcorn.

"You ok?" asked a voice behind me. I jumped and found myself face to face with the younger sheriff. I nodded my head. "Yeah..." I said, not sure what else to add. He smiled softly. "That's just Ralph Neely Jr. He wont hurt you," the young sheriff said. I nodded my head. "...What's that guy's problem anyway? ...If you don't mind me asking," I said, hoping I didn't sound rude. The younger sheriff shrugged his thin shoulders.

"He's just the town drunk, taking over for his d-" the young sheriff started, but was interrupted by the older sheriff.

"You don't need to go around telling everyone Junior's backstory, Jackson!" snapped the older sheriff. The younger sheriff, Jackson, stiffened and nodded his head. "Yes sir," he replied. The older sheriff narrowed his eyes at Jackson, then turned to me. The crooked name tag on his rumpled uniform said Carson. The older sheriff turned his dark eyes to me.

"Don't cause anymore trouble, ya hear?" he glared at me. I narrowed my eyes back at him. "I was just buying groceries," The older sheriff didn't seem to like my answer and crossed his arms over his chest. "You staying in that lone cabin up near the lake?" he asked. I hesitated. "I...how do you...?" my voice faltered. Did everyone know?

"We are familiar with your father. He eats at the same diner we eat at every Saturday morning. Said you were coming down to help clean up the cabin for the summer," Carson said, making it sound like my very existence in the cabin was a crime. "Just stay out of trouble while you are here. This town doesn't like newbies staying around here for very long."

With that, the older sheriff turned around and walked out of the general store. The owner of the store, I'm guessing Samson, was just about done cleaning up the glass bottle remains Ralph Jr. left. Sheriff Jackson hesitated before coming up to me with a small card in his hand.

"Don't worry about Carson. He's been around here his whole life. All the older folks here just have sticks up their butts." He handed me the card. "If you need anything, this is my radio number if you run into any..." he hesitated. "...if you need any help ok?" I nodded my head.

"Thank you," I said.

He smiled and nodded. "I'm Jackson by the way," he said. I was about to say my name but Sheriff Carson yelled for Jackson to "get a move on." Jackson said a quick goodbye and was out of the grocery store in a flash.

I turned back and found all the older locals staring at me. They quickly turned back to whatever they were doing. I sighed to myself, bought my food with the cash I brought, then began my journey back to my dad's cabin nestled deep in the forest, away from all the crazy locals.

...