He was walking on a ridge above the lake a few weeks back. Taking pictures of wildlife and flora and just enjoying the nice weather. He could see a few swimmers splashing around and was going to take a quick picture when he saw something else. A figure beneath the water. He couldn’t make out exactly what it was and before he could figure it out one of the swimmers saw it too.
That’s when the screaming started.
He threw down his backpack and headed for the water. The area around the shore was thick with vegetation, both in and out of the water, so he couldn’t just launch himself in. He tore off his shoes and slowly pushed through the thick reeds until he could get to a place where he could begin swimming.
There were now two teenage girls screaming and pointing. When he arrived at the spot he’d seen the figure, he was horrified to see another teenage girl submerged. Fully clothed. Drowned.
He couldn’t tell if she’d been there ten minutes or ten days, so he reached under the water to bring her up.
More people were swimming over.
When he got her to the surface, he could see that she’d been dead for quite awhile and CPR would be useless. He started to pull her to shore and just before another man reached them to help, he looked down into the dead eyes of the victim. Wide open but glazed over. Lifeless. It sent a chill down his spine.
And then they moved slightly and looked at him.
He screamed and let go of the body.
The other man grabbed the corpse until he was able to compose himself, and then slowly, the two of them brought her to shore.
Soon afterwards, the police and an ambulance arrived. There were some quick interviews and contact information exchanged but before too long, he was walking back to collect his backpack and head home.
As he lay in bed that night, he replayed the scene in his head over and over. The way the girl had make eye contact. How it was impossible and there was surely some simple explanation. Had it been a trick of the sunlight on the water? Do the eyes of the dead occasionally move? Whatever it was, it had rattled him and it was hours until sleep came.
A week later, he downloaded the pictures he’d taken that day. Birds, squirrels, flowers, and trees. His usual subjects.
And one he had not taken.
Of the girl. Under the water. Looking at him.
There was no way to rationalize it. No tricks of the light to blame it on. He froze.
No apparitions materialized, no objects began to move of their own volition. He was forced to start breathing again. Forced to go on with his day. His life.
Eventually, he visited another park to take pictures. He made sure there wasn’t a lake anywhere nearby. The last thing he needed was to see another figure lurking under the water. In the weeks that had passed since the incident, he had come to terms with what happened as best he could.
That tenuous peace was broken that night when he once again downloaded pictures from his camera to his laptop. When, once again, there was a picture that he had not taken.
A picture that had been taken many years ago. Of a young girl at a dance or celebration of some kind. Dressed up and smiling.
He slammed the top of his laptop down and pushed back his chair. One word kept running through his head; Why?
It was two weeks before he scooped up his camera and headed out to a nearby nature preserve. He had thought about ending his hobby completely, but realized that the time spent wandering around enjoying the outdoors was just too important to him. He needed it.
He took nine pictures that day. He counted each of them. Aloud. An eagle nesting… “One.” An odd-looking mushroom… “Two.” Until finally, the sun setting over the valley… “Nine.”
His hand was trembling when he arrived home and hooked up the cord from his camera to the laptop.
It showed there were ten pictures to be downloaded.
He unplugged the cord and turned off his laptop. He didn’t want to know why.
Epilogue: This is as close as I am capable of capturing the dream I had last night. Typically, in scary stories such as these told in countless books and movies, the heroic protagonist is driven to find out what is behind all of the supernatural goings-on. They will not rest until they have closure, despite whatever existential horrors might await them. You can imagine my disappointment when I found my guy came up short in this department. As a self-professed writer, and a big supporter of the unconscious mind being a reflection of one’s true self, I’m a bit disappointed. Even a touch embarrassed. I’m hopeful that this anti-climactic ending was due only to the time constraints of a typical dream and that tonight it will pick up where it left off and I can offer up a Part Two. Or even spend the next week delving into Parts Three through Seven.
Either way, I hope you continue down this path and come up with your own Why?