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Rodney Adams

5/28/22

The Lake

The Lake; where families would go for the summer to enjoy time off from their everyday boring lives. Hundreds of people gather around the lake's massive body and layout beach towels and sunbathe, the smell of sunscreen littering the air. Children would play in the dirt on the lake's shore attempting to make sandcastles with no success while their parents would sip their wine coolers. Teenagers, happy that school was out for a few months, would spend the daytime floating in the lake's vast blue beauty. During the evening they would set up their camps in between the forest edge and the lake and make smores under the starry night sky; the only source of light was from the campfire and the little the moon provided from behind the clouds.

He hated the tourist. He hated how noisy they made the lake and how they would leave their trash all over the place. He hated how they would trample all over her golden-brown shore and dig into her skin. He hated how they would pour the remnants of their beer into her body. He hated everyone. He preferred the lake when it was quiet. When the water was calm and peaceful. When the moon reflected off her the way light reflected off a freshly cleaned glass window. It was easier for him to think in silence. It was the reason he was there now when the lake was closed for the winter, to bask in the silence and think. He always came here once his work was done.

He took a small speed boat to the center of the lake and cut off the engine. He laid back in the boat and stared up into the night sky. He knew that nobody would find him there. Even if they were looking for him, the lake expanded over 40 acres. The last time he was at the lake, two years ago, the leaves of the forest that surrounded the lake were amber in color. He remembered spending 60 hours alone with the lake back then and he was looking forward to doing so now.

He continued to lay in the boat listening to the sounds of the lake's soft lullaby. The wind blows its soft breath across the surface of the lake. During the day, peering down into the lake was like looking through a blue sapphire crystal, but at night her depths were a black abyss. He stared deep into the darkness and the darkness stared back. He dipped his hand in the lake and found it surprisingly warm to the touch. It was peaceful. So peaceful that he drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later he sat up and opened his eyes to see blue and red lights flying through the darkness between the trees; those lights reflected off the water at the lake's shore. The sound of vehicles zooming through dirt and gravel roads echoed across the lake and pierced his ears. He looked up into the sky to see the moon had come out from hiding behind the clouds as she normally would to fully illuminate the lake. He wasn’t sure how he was found but it didn’t matter to him at that moment. The only thing that mattered was how seraphic he thought the lake was. At that moment, the Lake was picture perfect. The red and blue lights around her, the moonlight over her, and the lights reflecting off her as several boats inched closer and closer to him; This was pure heaven to him. He would enjoy this heaven because he knew he would surely go to hell for what he had done for the seventeenth time. He was okay with this because at least he was able to be with the lake one last time.