Swallow Lake

Swallow lake was a blight on the land for the locals. Not that it wasn't beautiful or serene, any visitor would think it was breathtaking. The image of what a lake in the foothills should look like. It wasn't called swallow lake because of the bird. It was given the name because of the many lives that perished and simply vanished in it's waters. People went out and just never came back, swallowed up by the lake. Gone forever.

The name of the lake is a bastardized version of the aboriginal word used for this body of water. They had called it, ' Ist'u Swalla'. Which meant Water of lost souls. Apparently, they knew something.

Jackson sat on the shore staring out across the vast emptiness of this cursed lake. It was hauntingly beautiful. People still flocked to it with the same mentality of a drunk climbing behind the wheel of a car 'It can't happen to me.' He had that attitude at one time. An athlete, a hockey star. Headed for the big league, drafted by one of the original six of the NHL. He had it all, and then he had nothing. All because of this lake.

He dug his toes into the sand till his feet were buried to the tops of his feet. The water lapped on the shore making sounds that whispered to him.

'Swoosh...they’re...swoosh...here...swoosh...they're ...here.'

The cabin behind him, empty now. His parents did not have the strength to return, not after what happened. Not sold, abandoned. Jackson drove up last night. The door was unlocked, the inside untouched. Dusty but still the way they left it. Furniture and all. Two years and no one disturbed the silence within. Until him.

Jackson had to return, he had to shake his demons. His career depended on it. His sanity demanded it. The lake called to him. Physically he could still play the game, mentally he struggled. The team stuck with him because of the events that happened that day, but their patience was dwindling. He had one more shot to get it straight. One more shot to exorcise the spirits that haunted him.

Closing his eyes, he lay against the warm sand. The afternoon sun felt calming upon his face. The last week of summer lingering on. In his mind the heat changed to cold as his thoughts wandered back to a Christmas gathering over two years ago. The last happy moment on the lake. Well, not entirely happy.

The cabin was more of a large log home, four bedrooms two bathrooms, a modern Kitchen, an ample living room with the typical grand stone fireplace and a large porch that overlooked Swallow Lake. It was tucked away amongst the trees. Many summers were spent here, swimming, boating, fishing. In the winters they sledded, snowshoed and more importantly they skated upon the frozen waters. It was here that Jackson found his love for hockey. His father would clear the snow off the ice and set up nets. They would play until they could no longer see the puck.

So, it was that they convened at the cabin to celebrate a holiday and the fact that Jackson had been called up to the big times. In the new year he would be playing for Chicago.

Christmas morning, it was an unusually bright and beautiful day. The air vibrated with a freshness that only comes from the wilderness. There were many nice days in winter, but that morning seemed special. Perfect, that was the only way to describe it. Christmas Eve night, the wind howled and blew. When they arose, the snow had been swept off the lake. The frozen water was clear, dazzling like a smooth sheet of crystal, almost rink perfect. Jackson could hear the lake calling to him, he felt the pull. Inviting him.

Smells of coffee and baking still lingered in the air when Jackson told his parents that him and his two younger brothers were going out to play some scrimmage on the lake. Grabbing their skates, gloves and sticks they raced out the door.

Jackson can remember looking back, seeing his parents standing together on the porch. Coffee in hand and smiles on their faces. A halo of late morning light embraced them. The perfect family who seemed to have it all.

James sixteen and Conner fourteen were on the ice first. James was good, already scouted by WHL teams. It was Conner who had the most potential, even more than Jackson had at his age. If he did well, in the next few years, the hockey Gods would look favorable towards his brothers.

There wasn't a breeze in the air. The only sounds that were heard was the crisp cut of the blades slicing into the ice. The flat smack of the puck as it slid along the frozen sheet and making contact with their sticks. Sounds of joy echoing off the shore banks and distant mountains. Laughter that only comes from brothers competing against one another. Time flew by. They never noticed it. Somehow it just came, beginning as a light mist, shadowing the air. Growing thicker as it rolled across the lake towards the three boys, ignorant of what was about to happen.

The mist turned to fog, which enveloped them all in seconds, so thick they lost sight of each other and the shore. Jackson came to an abrupt halt, yelling out to his brothers to do the same. He kept saying their names, telling them to skate to his voice. He could hear them calling out to him and to one another, still laughing. Then nothing. The silence was deafening. Emptiness.

Jackson stayed where he was, slapping his stick upon the ice for sound. The day no longer felt perfect. It felt heavy, like lead melting throughout his entire body. Holding him down, he couldn't move as hard as he tried, he could not make his feet skate any where. His blades felt frozen to the ice. Panic started to consume him. He never panicked. Raising his voice, he called over and over for his brothers. 'James...Conner'

The fog was so thick his words went nowhere. All sounds were absorbed by the mist and went no further. He was in a snow globe world, trapped. He reached out trying to feel the air, moisture, anything. He was unable to process a coherent thought. The world spun out of control, while he fought to remain upright. He felt himself slipping down, melting into the ice. He was being absorbed into the frigid waters. The damp cold leeched into his soul.

Holding his hand in front of his face he couldn't make out any definition, no shape or form. His breath became labored, shallow. Jackson fought for every bit of air he could to fill his lungs, it was never enough. Holding his head, he grasped his hair and with an energy he never knew was in him, screamed.

Closing his eyes, he screamed over and over. His heart raced, beads of sweat poured down him. He had never been this scared, that was the word. Scared. Visions of his parents floated on the edge of mind, just out of reach. He cried out to them. They turned away, ignoring his pleas.

As quickly as it rolled in, the fog was gone. The sky was dark yet clear, the air was fresh. The sun had set, the moon was bright, the stars hung frozen in the night sky, and he was alone. Wherever he looked he saw only ice, a frozen desolate lake. Alone.

Jackson skated around the area of their cabin. Venturing as far as he felt his brothers would, or rather should have gone. He began to wander further, outward, legs cramping, yet he continued. His skates cutting across the ice, now sprinkled with a light coating of frozen fairy dust. His voice sore from calling, suddenly he heard a sound. Voices, from the shore. Skating as hard as he could he saw the lights from the cabin, and shadowed figures on the frozen banks. Sweat poured off him by the time he neared the cabin shores. Flopping down on the snow he removed his skates. Exhausted. His boots were still by the bench where he left them. So were Conner's and James's. Yelling out for anyone to hear him, he sat there in shock. Where were his brothers?

From out of the dark emerged several shapes, his parents were among them. He was picked up and held. His mother crying, his father asking questions. None he could understand and therefore could not answer. Without warning all went black.

Jackson awoke in a hospital, still delirious. Yet the one thing he managed to process was that he was handcuffed to the rail of the bed. Lapsing in and out of consciousness for the next three days his life became a blur.

The mist and fog haunted his dreams. One moment he was alone in space floating where no one could hear his cries for help. The next he was trapped under the ice. His lungs burning begging for oxygen, his fists beating against the unbreakable frosted glass. Trying to escape his frozen coffin. Through the haze of ice, he could see his brothers staring down at him, laughing.

Breathing in, the cold water burned as it filled his lungs. Then he would wake. Sweating and out of breath.

Later, he found out that it was almost two days from when they went skating to when he was found. His brothers were still missing and presumed dead. Jackson became a suspect, hence the restraints. The investigation went on for over a month. His parents said they believed him when he told his story. It was only after an exhaustive search and questioning that they concluded that the boys had probably fallen through the ice and drowned. Jackson in shock had skated for days looking for them. There was no proof of foul play and no reason to believe he would harm his brothers. He was free, legally. Emotionally he was trapped. No one really believed when he told them about what had occurred in the fog. They heard him, but no one really listened, when he swore it was the lake that took his brothers as it had tried to take him.

So, now he returns. Knowing his brothers are still out there. He can feel them. Their bodies never recovered. Told the lake was to deep, to many channels and under water currents from the springs that fed it. Their disappearance written in the history books as two more souls claimed by Swallow Lake.

The sun was in its decline when Jackson opened his eyes once more, the air still warm. He breathed in deeply. Trying to find the energy to rise. Suddenly his feet felt cold, the water no longer warm as it lapped up upon the sand. Sitting up he saw frost creeping ever so slowly. Freezing the shoreline. He jumped up backing away, watching as the water froze over. No longer liquid, but a solid sheet of ice for as far as he could see. Dark and clear, sparkling like stars in the night sky.

The sun glared off the newly formed sheet of glass, blinding him temporarily. Squinting into the distance he saw two shapes appear, gliding towards him. Hockey sticks in hand, passing a puck back and forth with each other. There was laughter floating on the breeze. When they were no more than fifteen feet away, they turned sharply, blades biting into the ice. They came to an abrupt halt. A shower of shaved ice fanning the air.

He heard his name being called.... 'Jackson.'

As the sun began its decent behind the distant hills, he could make out the two forms. James and Conner, smiling and waving him on. 'Come on Jackson. let’s play for a little longer.'

Looking down he saw skates upon his feet and his stick standing up in the bank. A feeling of euphoria overtook him, his heart burst with a happiness he never thought to experience ever again. Grabbing his stick, he glided smoothly onto the ice. They were there in front of him. Slapping the ice with their blades they began to skate towards him. James retrieved the puck and passed it along the ice. Jackson took powerful strides to intercept the puck. Quickly dodging the two boys. He skated hard and fast towards the setting sun. Hearing his brother’s laughter echoing off into the horizon as they gave chase.

Jackson had found his peace. Another soul for Swallow Lake.

I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you enjoyed it, please leave a heart, and help yourself to view my other writings.

Jason,