Rose Creek: A Collection of Short Horror Stories

VIII: Eerie Lake

Photo by Daniel Mirlea on Unsplash. 

VIII. Eerie Lake

The Lakeside

Clark "Eddie" Edwin – 1988

The wind hit my face as I sat in the passenger seat of Kyle's convertible, with a wide grin stuck on my face, my arms folded behind the back of my head and my feet kicked up on the dash, I felt as if nothing could ruin my weekend. With California Dreamin' playing through the radio, I watched as we sped past the "Rose Creek" municipal sign; we were a long way from California, but it'll do. Despite the soupy and humid weather, and not to mention the seemingly never-sunny skies, I still missed Rose Creek, it was my hometown. It was Spring Break and we had all finished our exams, my friends and I were heading out to our long-awaited and well-deserved vacation. Kyle drove and I sat up front, three more of my friends crammed themselves into the back, Alesha, Emma, and Nathan – they didn't seem like they minded it all too much, but I could tell they didn't seem too impressed with Rose Creek's scenery already.

I was the only native to Rose Creek, the four others had never even heard of it. We all wanted to do something for our break, we didn't have a lot of money, so when I mentioned a cabin by a lake that we could stay at free of charge, my friends jumped at the idea. When I say, "free of charge", I'm technically right; there is an old cabin by the lake that's been abandoned for years, I used to hang out at it all the time in high school – I figured we could all stay there for a few days. Also, you can't exactly swim in the lake – it's completely banned per Rose Creek bylaw due to the many undertows that used to drown locals and tourists on the regular. Yet, that is what made the entire getaway more intriguing – as freshmen students, we thought ourselves invincible, and my group of thrill-chasing friends all seemed to love the idea of doing something we weren't supposed to do. If I had only known back then what I would get ourselves into, I never would have suggested the idea – there were no undertows in Eerie Lake, but instead, something much more sinister.

The road sign, "Eerie Lake, 5km, NO SWIMMING" caught our eye as Kyle drove. Alesha scoffed in the back.

"Very welcoming sign, looks like a bustling tourist attraction."

I rolled my eyes and turned my head toward her, "It's a great spot," I said confidently, "you'll all be thanking me later."

"Yeah, we'll see about that Eddie," Nathan snorted, "it is called 'Eerie Lake', after all, sounds really promising."

"I'm sure it'll be a great time," Kyle spoke up, trying to lighten the mood, "we aren't looking for anything luxurious, we're just here to have some old-fashioned fun."

I turned to look at Emma, who hadn't said much the entire car ride – she clutched a stuffed bunny in her arms and stared out of her window with a blank stare. Emma was an odd girl (the fact that she kept plushies for comfort at her age struck me as a little odd), but she was Alesha's best friend and she refused to come with us unless Emma came too. I could tell she wasn't as on board with the whole 'squatting in an abandoned cabin and swimming in a forbidden lake' thing as much as everyone else was, but she didn't complain.

. . .

We must have passed over a dozen "NO SWIMMING" road signs on our way – blissfully ignoring every single one of them, we finally made it to our destination. Kyle pulled up in a clearing and parked the car behind a bunch of pine trees – just a short walk down a dirt path and we would be at the cabin. We stepped out of the car, grabbed our belongings and marched down the path, the cabin was well-hidden, surrounded by towering pine trees and long grass. We stopped and stood in front of it – it was a very clearly-old log cabin, humble in size but completely intact.