Lake House

Clara's indoor balcony overlooking the modern styled landing had to be one of the loudest rooms in Canada at that moment in time. But the ear piecing scream somehow managed to radiate throughout the wooden mansion, and through the sound waves that were streaming out of the boombox blasting out Ariana Grande's "Break Free" , that was perched on top of a significantly high coffee table, made out of recycled pallets. I remember stumbling down the stairs; dodging the drunk high school graduates that I barely knew. I lead the curious mob through the thick oak front door, and down to the lake; where our ears had lead us. But It was now silent. Dead silent. And there was no trace of anything odd. Just the twinkling stars, shining down on the deep, black Ottawa lakes.
But we all knew that something was wrong. I could tell by how quiet the crowd was. Everyone looked around on the shore, I walked fully clothed through the icy lake. It went for acres. It was so large that despite having three hundred homes, aligned alongside the shore, nothing was in sight except for trees, guarding the house from any outsider even thinking that there was a residence within. But I kept wading through. Because I knew that scream. I had heard it at sleepovers when my older brother scared her and me. I heard it when we saw a spider crawling along the skirting. I had heard it occasionally, for the past fifteen years. It belonged to my best friend, Scarlett. The girl who I had just told to go away, when she bugged me when I was with my boyfriend, Jason today.
Hours went by, slower than school days. But suddenly, I felt my shoe on something. Not the rocks that I'd been above throughout my walk. Something else. Something with fingers. I ducked my recently styled hair underneath the water's surface. Grabbed on to something and pulled it up. It was heavy, so I called for help. Seven people later, we had a rock, not even that, we had a boulder. Enmeshed to a body. Scarlett.