[This Story Contains Gender Bender Themes]
Two lives become intertwined after Skylynn and Caitlynn are both involved in a deadly accident that claims Caitlynn's life. However, Caitlynn's mother becomes obsessed with resurrecting her deceased daughte...
A young man in his early-20s was sitting in the cold cab of his silent truck, stopped upon a muddy gravel parking lot, listening to the downpouring rain, frowning. On the seat was a letter from the WDFD (Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife) outlining his job criteria with research that he had already complied on a lake that he was being dispatched back to.
'Gazzam Lake...'
Not much was known about this lake.
It had never been mapped or considered a place of interest before the mystery. The lake rested in the Gazzam Lake Nature Preserve, far away from any houses or city roads. Only two trails approached the lake, and they were nothing more than hiking ruts.
He looked upward through the glass of his window as the rain showed no sign of slowing down.
"Great!" he sighed. "Well, I'm going to be wet, nevertheless. So, why not soaked!"
He placed on his uniform with the letters printed: WDFD VOLUNTEER on the left sleeve as he placed on his Fish and Wildlife cap and pinned on his nameplate: Galen Drier.
He buried his keys in a safe place and took his Write-in-the-Rain notebook to write down his findings as he had already penned in the lake's shape: trails, landmarks, direction, and sites of interest.
On the second page he had handwritten in cursive prompt:
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This was why he was here. Lake Gazzam was stocked with lake bass and after two years, all of the fish have died off.
This job was of no interest to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, as most officers patrolled the beaches and stocked lakes for poachers and careless gathers gathered far too much shellfish and overfished.
Galen had spent a few springs out on the Washington coast, watching razor clam diggers in the spring, looking for violators stuffing clam down their waders. But since he lived on Bainbridge Island, this job was certainly 'personal'.
He plugs in his earbuds as he plays soft classical music to help him not focus too much on the cold falling rain. Walking down the muddy trail, he moved to the melody, sloshing through brown muddy puddles and putrid boggy swamps.
As the sonata was almost to its soothing end, his full battery in his MP3 suddenly cut out when he neared the lake's outer basin. He pulled out his earbuds, sighing, stuffing them away with his keys.
"Well, that's great!" he remarks as he places the MP3 device in a water tight bag to prevent it from getting wet as he quickened his pace through the forest, heading to the lake with his pH kit and electronic measuring tools to look at dissolved oxygen, temperature, and nitrate levels.
