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The Catalyst

“The Lake”

Matteus Huvaere, Fiction Writer

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                                                                             lake 

There was a house on the water. A comfortable wooden house with tall plate glass windows and tasteful furniture. Two expensive cars sat in the driveway and even more in the garage. The house was surrounded by hills and pine trees. A man in a suit stepped out the door smiling then breathed in the smell of the pines. He looked out across the empty lake and sipped his coffee. The smaller car chirped as the engine turned on remotely, and he started walking towards it. He reached out to grab the door handle then four silenced bullets ripped through him from behind leaving bloody holes in the car door.

 

A short time later, the son of the man stepped out of the house for his daily run. He was a little befuddled, he had slept in a little later than usual. The Son noticed his father’s car was already gone. ‘He must have left early’ he thought to himself. He waved at the older fisherman that always sat on the other end of the lake, then started out on the trail that was made for him. It had been made to his exact specifications. The way the tree branches bent together above created the canopy that he had asked for. He knew exactly where every rock was, where every flower was, where every bush grew out to. So why were those ones out of place?

 

He stopped and inspected the brush. Behind the primary layer of thick vegetation, a few tall stalks he had chosen to dot the path were crushed. He climbed through the brush towards the edge of the forest. He noticed his father’s car. Someone had driven it along the beach just out of view of his house. It had been parked halfway into the trees. He realized that if he had come along the beach or passed by in a boat, he wouldn’t have been able to see the car. He froze when he noticed the bloody holes.

 

The Son stepped back and tripped over. His heart pounded against his ribs and his body began to shake. He sat there for what seemed like a long time. His shallow breaths started to slow down. He stood and kept telling himself, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

 

He ran out of the trees towards the lake. There was somebody in a canoe far off on the water. He realized it was the fisherman, he yelled out to him but he didn’t respond. Almost as if he couldn’t hear. The Son ran back to the house as fast as he could. He tripped a couple times along the beach, this wasn’t the path he was used to. When he reached the house he searched crazily to find one of the two landlines. But instead the Son found a large caliber pistol with a heavy silencer attached to the end wrapped in a towel on the kitchen counter.

 

The Son’s heart hit his ribs and he sat down on the couch staring at the gun. He couldn’t think of anyone else that could get into the house. He couldn’t even think of another person that lived on the island. Except for the fisherman.

 

The Son dived off the docks in the direction of the canoe. He swam using butterfly strokes then grabbed unto the edge of the canoe. The canoe rocked as The Son tried to pull himself up.

“Woah now, let me help you there.” The fisherman said

The Son just stared at the fisherman trying to catch his breathe. The fisherman gave a tired but warm smile back. The fisherman decided to speak first.

“I know you’re trying to piece this all together, and you’re panicking a little cus it just don’t make sense huh?” The fisherman laughed. The Sons eyes darted around wildly. “What, cats got ya tongue?” He laughed again.

“Where’s my father?”

“Now hold on. Did you go back to the house?”

“Yea…Yes… I found the-the gun… I couldn’t find the phone-the phone… I couldn’t-”

“Yep yeah the phone was sticking out of the garbage disposal, i suppose you didn’t notice that.”

“What?”

“Yep yeah uuuuuuh suppose you didn’t realize you woke up fully dressed this morning. Or that you woke up in the bathroom, or even that it was three hours past your usual wake up time. Do you know where that missing time went?”

The Son looked bewildered, “Wha-no no it’s… no.”

“And uuh did you notice how your dear ol’ dad never waved at me? Even though i’ve been right on that other side of this here lake every morning. Don’t notice a lot do ya?” The fisherman laughed again.

“Who are you!”

The fisherman took his hat off. “Now son, i’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to.”

They both sat in the canoe. The fisherman solemnly looked across the lake to the sunset, the son stared at the water with wide crazy eyes. After a moment, the fisherman reached down and started to tie a rope to a heavy rock that had been weighing the canoe down. The son interrupted. “Where’s my father?” He demanded.

“Don’t notice a lot do ya?” The Son dropped the rock into the lake and his father’s floating body began to sink.

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The news site of Harrison High School.
“The Lake”