Story-A-Day #149: Lake Monster

LAKE MONSTER

His breath echoed eerily loud in his head. A rhythmic gushing in and out through the plastic snorkel that was loud enough to drown out all other sounds but the gentle splashing he made as he manoeuvred in towards shore. It was almost deafening.

He dug his fingers into the soft, sandy bottom of the lake and slowly pulled himself forward, inching ever closer to shore. He paused for a moment, hovering weightlessly in the water, and surveyed the shoreline.

The 16-foot aluminum boat was pulled up on the beach next to the canoe and two kayaks. Behind the watercrafts, he could just make out the stacked firewood and scattering of plastic lawn chairs that surrounded the fire pit on the beach. A weathered wooden dock jutted out from the beach, ending about fifteen feet from where he floated.

He could just make out the long gleaming length of her leg, shining with perspiration under the hot summer sun. A tattered corner of beach towel drooped lazily over the edge of the dock.

He inched a little closer, picturing the blue and yellow bikini that barely preserved the modesty of the sunbathing beauty on the dock. He could picture she soft blonde hairs on her arms, gleaming in the sun; the beads of perspiration pooling in her belly button, and the shallow indent of her sternum. He could picture the cascade of her long flowing hair, framing her angelic face; the oversized sunglasses that were undoubtedly perched across the bridge of her small, button nose.

He inched in a little closer, breathing shallowly, the snorkel now dangling useless from the side of his head. It was too loud, too much of a giveaway.

He slowly pulled himself closer, inching ever closer towards the foot of the dock. He could smell the subtle-sweet aroma of her coconut tanning lotion now, a delectable aroma that set his heart aflutter.

He was at the end of the dock and he paused for a minute, bracing himself. When he was ready, he burst upward in an explosion of water, an animal roar bursting from his chest. She leapt up from the dock, a scream twice as loud as his own rising into the summer sky.

It took her a moment to realize what had happened, and when she did, she leapt at him from her stance on the dock. They tumbled backwards into the water, frolicking momentarily while her anger slowly subsided.

Eventually, their lips came together, and they fell into a passionate embrace, choking on mouthfuls of water and laughter. It was an old game, but one that never seemed to grow tiresome.

Story-A-Day #107: Old Elmer

OLD ELMER

It was cool, not cold. A wet wind blew in across the open expanse of the ice-covered lake, buffeting the tree limbs gently in its wake.

He took a pull ion his cigarette and flipped the butt out through the air. It landed in an explosion of orange sparks, and slowly slid to a stop next to the half buried boardwalk.

He pulled his jacket in tighter and slid another smoke from the cardboard box. He tucked the cigarette between his and lit it with a disposable lighter. He exhaled a blast of blue grey smoke and surveyed the lake. A small village of huts, trailers, cars, trucks, and snowmobiles had formed about a kilometer out from the shoreline.

It was the big fishing derby, an annual event that drew in crowds from miles around. It was a bit of a joke locally, hinging as it did on landing the big one. Old Elmer was a local myth, a sturgeon reported to measure nearly three metres in length and weighing nearly a full ton.

How did people know how much Elmer weighed if he had never been caught? How did people know how long he measured? Elmer was an amalgamation of dozens of reports, but like most urban legends, it was impossible to substantiate something based solely on the eyewitness accounts of those who had “nearly landed the big one”.

The fact that there was no way you could pull a sturgeon that was purported to be that large through your typical ice fishing hole seemed to escape most people. He realized that the town officials were just using the legend to create more interest and build up the economy, but that’s what bugged him the most.

Elmer wasn’t just a legend. Elmer wasn’t a sturgeon either, but he was out there. Elmer had taken his father nearly 20 years before, and the man had seen him several times over the years.

Elmer was out there, and the man would one day prove it. The dead of winter was not the time, but one day, possibly this summer even, he would prove it. He threw his cigarette butt down next to the previous one and walked back into the bar.