Friday Short Story #4: The Unnamed Lake

Prompt: A father and son fishing trip on an eldritch lake. Genre, Lovecraftian Horror.

Author's Note: I had not read any Lovecraft up to this point and took the opportunity to attempt a faithful dedication to the genre. This may have some of this piece feeling unoriginal, but you have to make a mold before you break it right! For you Lovecraft people out there, let me know if I got it right.

File 4342-AL (Classified)

Case Assigned: Agent Holcomb, Agent Phillips

Open Date: August 30th, 1957

Case Status: SUSPENDED – December 25th, 1957

Initial Incident: Missing minor. White male, age 16. Suspected homicide or child abduction.

Resolution: UNRESOLVED, insufficient evidence

Agent Report:

Myself and agent Phillips were deployed to an unnamed lake on private property in rural Rhode Island regarding the investigation of a missing minor – William Placid. The individual was last seen entering a local bait shop with his father, owner of the lake property and listed as John Placid, on August 1st, 1957. The mother, Lucy Placid, is reported to have died in childbirth, leaving the single parent. The father is still at large.

The alert was raised after the bait shop owner, a friend of the father, was unable to reach the family after a week of phone calls and visits to the property. Aside from the initial sighting and the following contact attempts, the only evidence collected for this case is the suspected diary of the missing individual, found in the fisherman’s shack by the lake shore. Its contents are transcribed below.

*Note* These transcriptions included interspersed hieroglyphics which had to be translated using a cypher of our own devising. These passages are in bold italics. Some sections were untranslatable, or garbled. Contributing to the insufficient evidence closure of this case. These sections were left transcribed phonetically for further consideration.

Evidence:

August 1st, 1957

Dad bought me this diary today and told me I was supposed to log our trip in it. He says I am a man now and I need to get in nature to find out who I really am. I think that’s dumb. How can you not know who you are? That sounds like beatnik stuff. Whatever, its leather, smells good and that girl watching me other there probably thinks I’m a writer like Hemingway or something, so I’ll keep scribbling. Maybe I can sneak away later and find her in town. This is gonna be so boring. At least he gave me this cool knife. What are those markings on it? They look familiar.

August 2nd, 1957

Last night was rough. This lake shack is old, lousy, and full of spiders. I can see why he waited till now to take me on my first fishing trip. On top of it all I kept hearing some sound all night long. It reminded me of how I used to be scared to be in the bathtub alone when I was a kid. Why? I totally forgot about those bathtub nightmares… Dad couldn’t hear it and kept telling me to go back to sleep. I swear, it’s like nothing phases that guy. He is setting up the boat now. Guess we’re finally getting out on the water!

August 3rd, 1957

I don’t want to go back on the water.

August 4th, 1957

Dad is making me go out again. Called me a sissy and started setting up the boat… I don’t know what will happen this time. How is he still calm?! I can’t remember exactly what I saw but… he had to have seen it too right? It was so… wrong. The eyes, the angles and that sound. All just… wrong. All through the water. My rod kept shaking and scaring the fish away, but dad just sat there. Staring into the water. He had to have seen it…

August 5th 1957

I couldn’t sleep at all last night for the sound. It followed me from the lake and cloyed at me all night. Now when I hear it I feel sick. Like part of me wants to spill my guts in the lake and laugh while I do it. Just the thought is making my skin crawl. Why would I imagine that? I still see… something in the water. When the light hits the ripples in the lake it’s like I can see past them. What I see makes my head spin and then I forget… something.

Dad’s no help. It’s like he’s is in a trance when he’s out there. Just says “yeah” and “good” every time I try to show him what I am seeing. But I still can’t remember the details when I get back. I’m going to smuggle my diary with me this time.

(Second entry)

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

August 6th, 1957

Looking back at yesterday I can’t even read what I wrote. Are those the same markings on the knife? What is happening to me out there? I know there were visions but… No, that can’t be right. That dragon octopus was from my bath tub nightmares, not yesterday. I must be mixing my dreams up… But when was the last time I slept? 3 nights ago? 10? When we get back from the lake I have been gutting the fish for dad to cook for dinner. I’ve never felt more comforted than I do seeking their glistening entrails all in a pile at the end of the day. All red and green. The bigger the pile, the better I feel. They remind me of the old ones. All formless and lovingly horrifying. Part of me is still scared to go out on the lake. But the lake brings dead truth. And waking slumber.

August 7th, 1957

Reality is thin here. The veil pulls back. Restless, the old ones’ sleep stirs waking death, who has slumbered for so long. I see them. Resplendent in their glory consuming the corpses of stars. The wailing voices of the devout have been heard. Their son now returns to the place of birthing to join the old ones anew. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Gnuf’psg mnyaloh R’leh mk ah!

August 8th, 1957

Maybe if I don’t get out of bed, dad won’t take me back out on the lake again. I can’t remember what happens out there anymore. I just find these crazy markings in my journal the next day. Writing is a comfort though. I can hear my own thoughts when I write. Other times… I just feel that thing inside me pulling me under the lake water. It longs for the black depths. And I exalt. I don’t want to listen anymore. Certainly we’ve caught enough fish. Their entrails are piling up outside. Beautiful. I’ll ask him when we’re leaving today. I hope it’s soon. If he makes me go back out, I’ll try one last time to write down what I see.

(Second entry)

Dancing rot. Breeding void. The worlds of the depths shine through. Broken minds and bleeding souls. The sleepers come to meet their champion. There will be no stopping them. Even perfect oblivion will fester and ooze into putrid truth in the face of their malignant anathema. Rag’hs machgah pfkan’gl yahlok!

August 9th, 1957

Was I on the water yesterday? I haven’t seen dad since… How long have I been here? Always? Yes. I think I have always been here. The lake calls me. Anew this time. No fear. My hands are bloody. Where is dad? I should go to the lake to find him. No… not my father. I have been here all this time to find my mother.

End of Evidence Transcription.