Lonely waters

Chapter 1: return

The deep purr of my engine was the only sound that reached my ears out here, miles away from any major town. Radio signals didn't penetrate this far into the wilderness. It had been nearly 14 years since I'd left the small town of Lakesbrain. My therapist suggested that a return to my roots might be therapeutic. Of course, I scoffed at the idea initially. I was a 22-year-old man, fully capable of managing my own affairs, after all. However, when I shared her suggestion with my friends, they all encouraged me to make the trip. The advice became harder to ignore after my father's sudden passing earlier this week. He had left me his house in Lakesbrain.

As I drove, my gaze drifted towards the passenger window. A vast, serene lake nestled within the local forest came into view. The woods sprawled across hills that could almost pass as mountains. Lake Lonely Waters, as it was called, was one of the few notable features in Lakesbrain, aside from an exceptionally well-stocked grocery store. The town had little else to its name, but this view reminded me of its quiet charm. In a blink, fog began to flirt with the edges of my car, drawing my focus to the unfolding scene before me. The mist wasn't dense or towering; it was just enough to lend an ethereal quality to the landscape. As I gazed ahead, the silhouette of the town began to materialize.

Turning into the town, I navigated down several streets towards my recently inherited property, trying to soak in the vibe of the place. As expected, it was a tranquil sight; every few houses, a couple would be perched on their front porch, engrossed in quiet conversation. Sooner than I anticipated, I pulled up to my late father's house. The deep blue walls starkly contrasted with the light grey shingles that topped the roof, giving the two-story structure an air of quiet gravitas. It was slightly intimidating, hinting at the untold stories it housed within. Exiting the car, I rolled up the sleeve of my blue plaid shirt and glanced at my watch. It read 6:20 PM. Even if the house was shaky, which it didn't seem to be, I had little choice but to stay the night. The closest town with a motel was a four-hour drive away, and given my current state of fatigue, hitting the road again was out of the question.

As I approached my family's home, a subtle unease tinged with an undercurrent of anxiety began to seep into my consciousness. It was a faint feeling, but palpable nonetheless. As I laid my hand on the doorknob, I thought I heard a whisper of my name. Shaking off the odd sensation, I turned the handle and stepped into the main hallway. To my right, a staircase twisted upwards to the second floor. Straight ahead and slightly to my left, another doorway beckoned. I stood there for a moment, letting the familiarity of the scene wash over me before deciding my next move. After a brief moment of contemplation, I entered the room on my left. Inside, I found a couch, a love seat, and a TV on its stand. "Odd," I murmured to myself, setting my bags aside and making my way towards the couch. Despite its abandonment for 14 years, everything appeared surprisingly modern and clean. This realization sent a slight shiver down my spine, but I quickly reasoned that distant relatives must have taken care of it, just in case my father ever decided to return. As I settled into the couch and leaned back, my eyes closed and I found myself transported into a dream. In this dream, I was much younger, about 14 years younger, sitting inside a cave illuminated solely by the moonlight reflecting off the body of water before me. The cavern was bathed in an eerie blue glow as the sound of dripping water and low, guttural growls filled my ears.

I was roused from my slumber by the persistent ringing of the doorbell. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I made my way to the front door and swung it open. Standing before me was an elderly couple. To my right stood a man, his hair peppered with gray but still showcasing hints of jet black that caught the light. His piercing blue eyes held a certain intrigue, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why. To my left stood a woman, her body slightly hunched, conveying a delicate fragility. Her eyes mirrored those of her husband. "Oliver, dear! Oh my lord, it's a delight to see you!" The old woman exclaimed, her face beaming with joy as she enveloped me in a warm embrace. As confusion flickered across my expression, the older gentleman, sensing my bewilderment, chimed in, "Martha, it's been 14 years. The poor boy is probably feeling a bit disoriented." He let out a gentle, weary chuckle and continued, "Just a bit," I replied, mustering an awkward laugh. Martha took a step back, seemingly realizing her exuberance, and apologized, "Oh, sorry dear. It's been such a long time, but it feels as though it were only yesterday when your father took you and your mom down south. We were good friends with both of them. How have they been?" With a bittersweet smile, I reached behind my neck and rubbed it, gathering my thoughts. "My mother passed away a couple of years ago in a car crash, and my father succumbed to heart complications just last week," I said, my voice tinged with sorrow.

"I'm sorry, hon," Martha said, her face reflecting a deep sadness. The man beside her added, "Your old man was one of the good ones, and your mother was always a delightful presence." Martha jumped in, reminiscing, "Me and John always cherished their company and gladly looked after you when they couldn't due to work or other obligations." We stood there in a brief, contemplative silence before I veered off topic and asked, "By the way, has anyone been in this house in the past few years?" A flicker of confusion crossed their faces, and John responded, "I believe your uncle swung by a couple of weeks ago, though I can't say for sure," he chuckled. After a little while longer, they bid their farewells, and I retreated back into the living room. As I examined the TV stand, my gaze fell upon a note.

I flicked open the note, and my eyes immediately fell upon the words written in blue ink. "Hey kid, I know you must be feeling bewildered by the new furniture, but it was the only way I could get this message to you without raising any suspicions. There's something sinister creeping into our town and its people. Your dad and I noticed it, and we decided to leave after the incident involving you when you were younger. I wish I could tell you to flee, but once you're here, you can never truly escape. Uncle K." I couldn't make sense of it. Was Uncle Kenny playing some sort of prank? He was never the type to engage in practical jokes. Why would he choose such a serious topic for a prank?