Legend of the Lake

"Have you ever heard of an Ashray? A water ghost?" He started. Isaac knew it was probably wrong of him, but the kids kept bugging him for a ghost story, so what else could be do?

The flame of the campfire sparkled, but menacingly, the way someone's eyes sparkle when they are telling you a secret they swore they wouldn't. A sharp crack of the kindling made the pre-pubescent pairs of eyes staring back at him widen, but with excitement or fear, Isaac couldn't tell. He thought he saw a couple of them tremble, but it could've been from the breeze coming off the nearby lake so late at night.

"You know what? This is a bad idea. Let's just sing a ca-"

"NOOOO!" Came a chorus from the bodies circled around him. They were committed. And to their credit, they had been asking since summer camp started. Now with the air starting to cool, and the slightest tinge of brown on the leaves, their last night was upon them so it was now or never. Isaac always felt a twinge of uncertainty at this point. He had no reason to; he had told this story before, more than once in fact, and it ended the same way every time. He knew the uncertainty would be gone almost instantly.

"Okay, okay. But consider yourselves warned. The Ashrays don't like people talking about them. They don't take too kindly to me telling their stories. But fine, you've got it." Issac took a long, slow, calculated look at every camper looking back at him. He actually liked this part: The Before. But then again, he loved The After as well.

"An Ashray is a water ghost. Don't bother looking for them. They won't show themselves unless they want to. And they don't really want to. The best chance of seeing an Ashray is going deep into the lake, where the ground drops from beneath your feet, where the blue-greens turn to black and the warmth from the sun somehow doesn't seem to hit because the chill goes straight to your bones. The middle of the lake and down, down, down, until you find the ground again. So far down that you aren't sure you can get there and back with one held breath. And it has to be at night. That's important to them. Even in the depths of the lake where it feels like midnight mid-day, they know they difference." Isaac could tell he already had them hooked because he could swear not one of them had blinked.

"Legend has it that the lake right here at our camp is the home of the Ashrays. The story goes that years and years ago, before your parents were kids, before your grandparents were kids, way back when their grandparents were kids, that there wasn't a camp here yet. There was nothing, really, but a small town and this lake that people back then avoided, although no one has ever told me why. My guess is that the people who lived here then, who grew up here, always knew there was something wrong with the lake. And so they avoided it." The further into the story Isaac got, the quieter his listeners were. This is how it went. Isaac had given them a chance to get out. He had given them another choice. He knew the more he divulged them, the more they would belong to him. They would hang on his every word until they could hear nothing else. Until all they heard was the Ashrays, and it would be the last thing they would hear.

"One night, these two little kids, a brother and a sister, decided to go to the lake after dark, long after they should have been in bed. They had wanted to see for themselves what made their parents, their neighbors, their town so wary. They wanted to catch a glimpse of what lived in the lake. They waited until their parents were asleep, they silently put on their shoes, they woke their snoozing dog to bring for protection, and they made their way out of their house. It would be the last time they ever left their house, but they didn't know that just yet." The campers were barely breathing at this point. Isaac didn't know if they even realized it. Their fascination with the story Isaac had been teasing for weeks made them susceptible. He knew that by now coercion would be simple. The Ashrays didn't hate when Isaac told their story. The Ashrays wanted Isaac to tell their story; they had sent him to do so. And generation after generation, he succeeded.

"By the time the kids got to the lake, it was so far past dark that the moon made barely a reflection on the raven-colored water. As they stepped closer to the banks, their dog started to pull them back. They say animals know when something is wrong. The dog was pulling so hard on it's rope that it eventually became too much for the children who had to drop the dog's lead and watch it run away from them and from whatever was waiting in the lake. As they called for their dog to return, the sound of splashing could be heard from behind them, making them stand at attention, reminding them of why they were there. Turning to face the water, they saw it: a shining white light in the middle of the lake. The white light danced beneath the surface, creating soft spirals in the water and making sounds akin to a small giggle. Both kids stepped towards the water. They didn't choose to do so, in fact, they hadn't even noticed when they were ankle-deep. Their valiant dog had returned, and in trying to keep it's family safe, grabbed the girl's dress by it's teeth. The girl didn't so much as stop walking, and as she was drawn closer to the light, her dress tore in the clenches of the dog's jaw, leaving it standing at the edge of the darkened water. The dog started barking. Not the kind of barking when someone comes to the door, but the kind of bark that sounds like a mangled duet of fear and pain. But the kids did not stop. They walked into the lake until the water was up to their chins, and then they walked further. The dog continued it's strained, desperate bark as it watched it's family, it's brood to protect, get swallowed whole by the water. Eventually there was nothing left to see of the children. They were gone and it seemed they took the shining light with them. Or it was the other way around." Isaac felt a lake breeze pick up. He knew the story was almost over. The hair on his arms started to raise, his pulse had quickened without him even noticing. It was time.

"When the children's parents awoke that morning, it was to the panicked voices of their neighbors screaming for them. The dog had been found, or rather, heard, at the lake hours after the children had descended into the shadowed water, and nothing or no one could pull the dog away. It wasn't until awakening the children's parents that anyone knew what kept the dog fixated on the water, barking incessantly. The lake was searched for days after, but it had been far too late for them to find anything. To this day, people say that if you walk by the lake late enough at night, you will hear the tortured echoes of that barking dog just on the edge of the water. On the edge of evil." Isaac let the story settle into the minds, and hearts, of his too-eager listeners. He had done his part, and he had done it well. And just then, as every time before, a shining, dancing white light appeared in the middle of the lake. Without a word and without a sound, the children stood up one by one and made their way to the edge of the water. Their steps were slow, but not because they were hesitant, they were far too entranced for that. In a single-file line, the children continued further and further until the water had hit their chests, their necks, their eyes. And single-file, they walked so far in that they could not be seen anymore. Isaac followed them, with a widening, toothy smile growing on his face. In the distance, the faint sound of a dog barking emerged over the sounds of the wind but if it was the sound of someone coming to the door or the memories that live on the edge of the lake, one could never know.