Cadence Kliesch
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The Lake was always colder at that time of the year. The fall season brought all of the debris and mud up from the bottom, making it seem like there was no longer a Lake, only a muddy patch between two tree lines. The one side, the safer side, was retained by cliffs of varying size. The Lake could only be compared to ice fishing in Alaska, the top blanketed in matter, but without the fish. People, tourists mostly, would attempt to trudge across to the other side with the expectation of a shortcut to better hiking trails. This was never the case. Farther up the Lake was a singular bridge that crossed the length of the murky water, known really only by the people who lived in the area. The bridge was the least traveled path due to its position off of the designated trails, and the countless “Beware of Bears” signs adorning its vicinity.
By Cadence Kliesch2 years ago in Horror