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The Junk Island

The water of the lake looked dark and opaque

By Kirsty KendallPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 6 min read
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The tiny island in the middle of the lake wasn’t far. But the boat was heavy; I had loaded it with junk. I rowed so hard that my back hurt. As always in autumn, the water of the lake looked dark and opaque.

I got ashore and started carrying stuff to the small cottage in the middle of the island. Anna had wanted to renovate the hut into a Japanese tea house. Well, that wasn’t going to happen now; I had turned it into a junk room.

Anna could only blame herself. It had been her idea that I should de-clutter my house. She said clutter was poor feng shui. I admit I had gathered lots of stuff over the years.

I wasn’t writing anymore. I had earned enough from my bestselling horror-thriller series to retire early. Somehow, I had become sort of a packrat. I had always enjoyed shopping in thrift stores. I suppose I did some shopping and ended up with lots of old furniture and decorative items.

I got tired of Anna nagging me about my junk. She said she didn’t feel comfortable staying in my house because the energy was stained. I don’t believe in the feng shui nonsense. But I wanted Anna to feel comfortable in my home. After all, it had been years since I had dated anyone before I met Anna. I did want her to stick around.

So, I got into work and started getting rid of the stuff I didn’t need. I took some old clothes and kitchen utensils to goodwill. But I didn’t want to give away all my junk. After all, I could sell some of the old items someday. Yet having them all in my house did make my home feel cluttered.

Then I had this fantastic idea. I could take the stuff I was planning to sell into the cottage I had in the middle of the island! I wasn’t using the hut for anything. I started transporting stuff to the island with my boat. It was October now. I had to get everything moved before the winter. It would be impossible to take anything to the island when the lake would freeze.

I took a deep breath and admired my work. There wasn’t any room to sit in the cottage; I just stood at the doorway.

The cottage was only 215 square feet large. I had loaded it with stuff from floor to ceiling; there was hardly any space left. I had dumped in some small dressers and side tables. On top of the furniture, I had loaded cardboard boxes full of junk; old books, knickknacks, DVDs. It would have been a shame to give them all away for free. I figured out I might make thousands of dollars with all that stuff one day.

Of course, Anna didn’t like that I had turned the cottage into a dumpster. As you can guess, it’s bad feng shui to have an island full of junk in the middle of a lake. Anna constantly lectured me that you can’t hide your junk anywhere on your property; it will still affect your energy. I had made it clear to her that it was either the house or the cottage; which one would she prefer was filled with junk?

Pleased with myself, I closed the door of the cottage. I stepped into the boat and started rowing. It felt light now. It was a cloudy day, chilly but not cold. The trees around the lake had beautiful autumn colors; red, orange, and yellow.

Suddenly, I felt something was pulling the back of the boat. It was strange because the lake was deep and there wasn’t any reef. I turned to look and saw a tentacle grabbing the side of the boat. It looked like a tentacle of an octopus. As far as I knew, octopuses don’t live in lakes.

The creature pulled itself up with the tentacle, and I saw its head. It looked like an octopus. The octopus pulled itself overboard. I heard a slapping sound as it dropped into the bottom of the boat. It was the size of a small dog, and it had eight tentacles. The poor fellow moved its tentacles up and down.

“Hi, buddy. Are you lost? I thought you guys were supposed to live in the sea”, I said happily.

I had always liked octopuses. One of my novels had a giant killer octopus. Of course, I knew real octopuses were not like that. They were fun little fellows and clever too.

The octopus slithered towards me. I looked at it more closely. Its skin started to change. Now I saw patterns in it. The octopus’s skin looked like it had a vintage flower pattern; red flowers on a dark background. It reminded me of a vintage table lamp I had dumped into the cottage on the island. The vintage lamp had the same flower pattern as the octopus’s skin.

“You’re a funny little guy, aren’t you? Want a snack? I have crackers.”

I took out a pack of crackers I had in my pocket. I threw a cracker towards the octopus. It didn’t pay attention to the snack but kept slithering towards me.

“All right, buddy. How about we get you back in the water? I’ll help you.”

I reached out my hands towards the octopus. All of a sudden, black ink showered towards my face. My eyes hurt, and I couldn’t see anything. I started screaming. I reached blindly towards the water and splashed lake water into my face to wash away the ink. It only made the pain worse.

I was in a panic. I dag my pocket and grabbed my phone; I had to call help. I was blind but was able to dial 911. Someone answered my call. Then I felt a slimy tentacle against my cheek. The octopus grabbed my phone with its tentacle and threw it into the lake.

I fumbled my way to the oars and started rowing towards the direction where I thought the shore was. But something was pulling the oars.

“Oh, Jesus, help me, Jesus", I heard myself say in a voice that didn’t sound like mine.

I felt something slimy on my hands. There were more octopuses in the water, and now they used the oars to climb into the boat. The creatures sprayed more ink towards my face. I screamed.

I had lost the oars. I desperately tried to row the boat with my hands. When I scooped the water, I felt an octopus wrapping its tentacle around my wrist. The lake was full of them!

I wasn’t going to get to the shore with the boat. I had to swim. I climbed overboard into the freezing water. I started swimming, but more tentacles wrapped around my limbs. I felt them pulling me deeper into the water.

My eyesight was returning, at least some of it. Now I saw where the shore was, but I couldn’t move my limbs to swim towards it. The part of my mind that was still able to think realized there was no way these were ordinary octopuses. Octopuses don’t live in lakes or try to kill you.

I swallowed water and coughed in panic. The creatures slithered all over my body. There were at least ten of them. I gasped for air and tried to keep my head above water.

The last thing I saw was my junk island in the middle of the dark lake.

Horror
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About the Creator

Kirsty Kendall

MA in literature. Writer, unicorn lover, snail mom. I write about autism, business, life… Buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/kkendall

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