writhing at anything and everything they could hit.
Must Get Away from the Lake Monster.
I just knew his plan was to make me his soggy bride. Or maybe he was some sort of water zombie and I was his next meal.
He slugged me again. Really hard.
Holy nutfugget, that hurt!
I whacked him right back in his doughy face, which had returned to its original shape of Normal-Looking Human.
His head bobbed, but he still held fast to me. I was grateful for the small fact that at least now he looked like a roofer after a long day rather than a Wes Craven creation.
He made the peace sign again and I think he tried to roll his eyes, but I couldn’t be sure.
He pointed down once more.
I trailed his finger with my gaze. While I was somehow able to see shapes, movement, and hints of light, there was nothing I could pinpoint that seemed important. Some algae, water creatures, broken beer bottles, and an old boot.
I shrugged.
He got agitated then and started pointing down with both hands, frantically.
When he let me go, all the air left my lungs.
Quickly, he grabbed me again and I was able to breathe.
I understood at that moment that he was doing it. He was responsible for my breath, my ability to see into these dark depths. He was keeping me alive.
I felt a little better about our relationship after that and decided that whatever task the dead guy wanted me to fulfill, I better do it soon or I might never get out of here. Plus, I was getting really tired of being slapped.
I concentrated one last time, carefully scanning the lake bed.
Several feet away from the concrete block, something gleamed. Almost like moonlight, it had an iridescent quality.
I pointed in that direction and he nodded enthusiastically. Then he grabbed my feet and pushed me forward.
The glowing object would have been out of his reach, what with being anchored to the block and all, but using me as leverage, like you might a wooden spoon to reach something under the stove, worked like a charm.
From the mushy floor of the lake, I pulled out a pearl-faced wristwatch.
We floated up a few feet together and I offered it to him. He shook his head. Then pointed from himself to me.
And in another split second, I was catapulted back up to the surface like a human cannonball.
I sucked in all the fresh air I could, thankful to be back above the water. There was no telling how long I had been down there. Minutes? Hours?
A quick scan of the perimeter revealed Thor still digging in the same spot as if I had never left. Which, technically, I guess I hadn’t.
I dragged myself back to the beach and collapsed on my extra-large towel. It was still a bit damp and the sun was in the same spot in the sky.
As if time had stood still.
I took a minute to examine it. It looked to be mostly stainless steel besides the face, with more buttons than I would ever need in a timepiece. It was in good shape, minus a bit of sea scum that I wiped away with a towel. The second hand ticked by, so it seemed to be functioning just fine.
There was one bottle of water left in my bag. I carefully stuffed the watch in the plastic baggie I used to protect my Kindle, put it in a side compartment, and zipped it shut. I grabbed the water and drank half, thinking about my “gift.”
The first memory I had of communicating with the deceased was when I was five years old. I was in the gardentrying to catch a butterfly with a fly swatter. It seemed like the most efficient method at the time, and since I hadn’t yet learned about death and dying, why not use brute force?
Not the shiniest penny in the wishing well, you might say.
Anyway, I was smacking at this lovely yellow-and-black beauty, hitting only air, when Mrs. Krenshaw, my preschool teacher, happened to be walking through the yard.
She knelt down to my level and held out her arms as if she were dancing to music I couldn’t hear. She smiled at me, a warm, loving smile, and the gorgeous butterfly landed right on her nose. She gestured to me
Must Get Away from the Lake Monster.
I just knew his plan was to make me his soggy bride. Or maybe he was some sort of water zombie and I was his next meal.
He slugged me again. Really hard.
Holy nutfugget, that hurt!
I whacked him right back in his doughy face, which had returned to its original shape of Normal-Looking Human.
His head bobbed, but he still held fast to me. I was grateful for the small fact that at least now he looked like a roofer after a long day rather than a Wes Craven creation.
He made the peace sign again and I think he tried to roll his eyes, but I couldn’t be sure.
He pointed down once more.
I trailed his finger with my gaze. While I was somehow able to see shapes, movement, and hints of light, there was nothing I could pinpoint that seemed important. Some algae, water creatures, broken beer bottles, and an old boot.
I shrugged.
He got agitated then and started pointing down with both hands, frantically.
When he let me go, all the air left my lungs.
Quickly, he grabbed me again and I was able to breathe.
I understood at that moment that he was doing it. He was responsible for my breath, my ability to see into these dark depths. He was keeping me alive.
I felt a little better about our relationship after that and decided that whatever task the dead guy wanted me to fulfill, I better do it soon or I might never get out of here. Plus, I was getting really tired of being slapped.
I concentrated one last time, carefully scanning the lake bed.
Several feet away from the concrete block, something gleamed. Almost like moonlight, it had an iridescent quality.
I pointed in that direction and he nodded enthusiastically. Then he grabbed my feet and pushed me forward.
The glowing object would have been out of his reach, what with being anchored to the block and all, but using me as leverage, like you might a wooden spoon to reach something under the stove, worked like a charm.
From the mushy floor of the lake, I pulled out a pearl-faced wristwatch.
We floated up a few feet together and I offered it to him. He shook his head. Then pointed from himself to me.
And in another split second, I was catapulted back up to the surface like a human cannonball.
I sucked in all the fresh air I could, thankful to be back above the water. There was no telling how long I had been down there. Minutes? Hours?
A quick scan of the perimeter revealed Thor still digging in the same spot as if I had never left. Which, technically, I guess I hadn’t.
I dragged myself back to the beach and collapsed on my extra-large towel. It was still a bit damp and the sun was in the same spot in the sky.
As if time had stood still.
I took a minute to examine it. It looked to be mostly stainless steel besides the face, with more buttons than I would ever need in a timepiece. It was in good shape, minus a bit of sea scum that I wiped away with a towel. The second hand ticked by, so it seemed to be functioning just fine.
There was one bottle of water left in my bag. I carefully stuffed the watch in the plastic baggie I used to protect my Kindle, put it in a side compartment, and zipped it shut. I grabbed the water and drank half, thinking about my “gift.”
The first memory I had of communicating with the deceased was when I was five years old. I was in the gardentrying to catch a butterfly with a fly swatter. It seemed like the most efficient method at the time, and since I hadn’t yet learned about death and dying, why not use brute force?
Not the shiniest penny in the wishing well, you might say.
Anyway, I was smacking at this lovely yellow-and-black beauty, hitting only air, when Mrs. Krenshaw, my preschool teacher, happened to be walking through the yard.
She knelt down to my level and held out her arms as if she were dancing to music I couldn’t hear. She smiled at me, a warm, loving smile, and the gorgeous butterfly landed right on her nose. She gestured to me
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