The Lake

This is something I wrote for class that was fun and difficult and morbid...odd to write. But I kind of enjoyed getting into this mind in a weird way and I got good feedback about the exercise, so I decided to share. I hope you enjoy it. Perhaps I have a future in murder mysteries.

Prompt: Describe a lake as seen by a young man who has just committed murder. Do not mention the murder. 

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The skeleton trees are swaying in the breeze as I stand alone on this lakeshore. The bare bones corpses of tall pines are rotting and dying. That fire last year claimed their souls but hasn’t quite claimed their decaying bodies. 

As I approach this lake, my friend, I watch the sun set blood-red over the horizon. I stand on the edge of the sand, enraptured by the simple beauty of water. This lake has been my home, has kept me company through most of my life. This lake knows my hopes, my fears, my secrets. 

And its about to learn one more. This lake is my confessional booth. This is where I repent my sins. The lake listens. It never says a word. It understands me. It hears me, does not judge. It is the best confidant you could ask for. 

This might be my worst sin yet. I must tell the lake what I did where no one can hear me. If I confess it to the lake, maybe the lake will cleanse me, absolve me of what happened. But no one else can ever know. 

I remove my hiking boots first. My pants, polo shirt and boxers stack neatly on top of them. I can’t hide anything from my constant companion. I must bare all to be forgiven of all. The rocks are sharp and jagged on my feet. Your penance the lake whispers to me through lapping waves. I wade into the murky swells. The water is cold and dull, full of minerals and debris. I can’t see the bottom but I know this lake by heart. I have spent countless hours fishing and swimming and exploring and living in this pool of water. 

I dance fluidly through the ripples to the right where I know there is a deep spot. The minnows are surrounding me, investigating. They want to witness for me, hear me testify. I know they won’t tell anyone either. They don’t speak! Hahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

My feet are on the brink of the deeper pool within the lake. I gently push out with my toes and begin to tread water, slowly steadily. With one last breath and a glimpse at the darkening sky I plunge beneath the surface, eyes open. I can’t see anything but I must be completely open to the lake. 

I am ready to tell it what I’ve done. I do. I shout it to the water. I scream! The release of breath and confession is exhilarating and gratifying. I inhale. The lake responds by filling me with water. The bitter taste of stagnancy floods my mouth and lungs, but it is refreshing to me. The lake is assuring me that it heard me. It won’t tell. It doesn’t even want me to tell. The tepid water is purifying me! It’s working. I take in more until the dull strings of unconsciousness begin to pull at my mind. Only then do I release, shooting upwards, sputtering, choking out water, gasping for air. 

I swim to the shore line, my body burning. I crawl on hands and knees back onto the sand and rocks away from the water’s threshold. I am now safe ashore, but already missing how the lake holds me in its grasp. One day I will give into the lake completely. But not yet. 

There is one last thing for me to do now. The lake calls to me for the last remnants of my sin. I load my shoes with rocks and sand and knot my clothes around them. With a great exertion, I send them flying into my lake, my secret-keeper. Plunk. I smile gratefully as the bundle splashes into the water and then sinks, bubbling slowly down. 

Now, I can walk away, naked, sinless, purged, and restored. I am refreshed. And no one will ever know. The lake will keep my secret.