The Old Hague Lake

“Don’t come down to the old Hague Lake” "Where the monsters lurk to seal your fate” "It might be you, it might be me” “Into darkness for eternity“

Sedit recollected chanting the famous hymn to the neighborhood boys, perched next to his boat, pestering him about the monster. Their wide, unblinking eyes and the silence that followed meant that the message had been received. It was important they knew and brought fear back to the town again. It was unsafe here, and the ominous chant – which had long been a cautionary song to keep the children away from the water at night – had rang truer than ever in the months past.

And now, here Sedit was, riding for his life. His boat raced on as he averted his mind from the muffled screams not far away. His life was more important. He’d take care of them later.

It was the early hours of the evening, barely past five but the area was deserted. A sullen darkness was creeping in; the gradual swishing of the current and the trill of birds accentuating the isolation. Through the rising crescendo of leaves rustling along the water bank, Sedit could just barely hear the faint humming of a motor not too far away and the inescapable echo of screams. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched. no matter where he turned, the unsettling sensation seemed to follow. Then again, that was The Hague these days.

Sedit was a relative newcomer here, arriving two years prior from the mainland. It was upon a stern request from his father after a rather troubling series of events back home. It had taken some time, but he had gradually adjusted to life in this onerous terrain, learning all the tales and superstitions that were a common place here. It had become a welcome respite from the all the wandering eyes in the mainland.

By all accounts, the lake hadn’t always been like this. Even as recently as one year ago, there had been plenty of boats peppering the lake at all times of night. One could encounter all manner of fishermen searching for their big haul before finding the bottom of their empty bottles. The remoteness of the area and the cool water always meant a plethora of fish stocks.

The lake itself was adjacent to a scenic, albeit dreary, fishing village. A persistent pungent odor wafted around the old wooden houses that peppered the village, damp from the heavy moisture of the lake. The air was suffocating, unwelcoming even; but the locals themselves had always been the picture of hospitality. A hardened kind of hospitality. Full of superstition and lore, the locals took delight in expertly retelling tales of the ancient mysteries surrounding the lake. They had a sense of kinship and community unmarred by phones and technology.

The village was remote. Too remote, in fact, to be accessible by car. It pretty much governed itself with the help of a shoebox of a police station at the village square. Apart from the odd, liquor-induced brawl, there hadn’t been a need for much more. The alcohol was a mostly harmless hobby to pass the hours while battling the mundane yet demanding realities of the day to day. People long joked that the locals took to their drink the way their fish took to water.

There was a small rest-house right in the center for travelers, usually just passersby on their way to more exciting destinations. Further away from the center of the village, the older locals had settled down with their families and over the past decade, the laughter of children replacing the whistling wind or the eerie silences had been a welcome presence.

Everything had changed a little more than a year ago. The little village had lost its innocence. The atmosphere of laddish mischief had passed over, and in its stead had come a cloud of a matured darkness.

It was Sedit’s father who had discovered the body, floating in the water on one of their fishing hauls. A young girl, no more than twelve years old; the daughter of the local preacher. She was the sweetheart of the village, freely traipsing between houses with a song always at the tip of her tongue. She was adventurous and inquisitive in a way that endeared her to even the most stone-faced of folks. She had a pure, childish laugh that you just wanted to bottle up and keep forever. Only now she would laugh no more. At first, the town presumed she was lost on one of her fanciful expeditions. Locals combed the area and her parents pleaded with anyone about town for even the slightest detail but alas, the next bit of information they received was that the body had been found. It was a ghastly sight to behold. The girl’s eyes were rolled up into the back of her head while her mouth hung limply open; a stark contrast to the adolescent smile normally plastered on her face. The state of the body hinted that she might have been alive for a while after her first injury and the tiny bite marks indicated schools of fish had feasted upon her tiny corpse. Upon hearing these sordid details, her mother, trapped in a mental prison at the image of her daughter, alone, helpless and terrified during her last hours had promptly broken down. The town fell into disarray and not a soul could fathom what had happened but all indications on the body pointed to the ancient tales of the creature in the lake. The creature that killed purely for sport. Or pleasure.

Whispers of the old bonfire tales of the monster in the lake had floated through the village, and much like the village itself, these rumors were no longer harmless, its contents now closer to the terrifying truth. Police from the mainland had taken a few days to reach the village but their arrival was eclipsed by the overwhelming claims from locals causing them to declare that this was indeed the work of some elusive, nightmarish creature. That was when the resurrection of the monster had become all too real.

“Just steer clear of the water,” they had said. Yet, in a fishing village, the one thing you couldn’t escape was the water.

Before long, two female travelers disappeared. They were hikers, temporarily volunteering as English teachers at the local school. Adored by the kids, their dynamism and energy were a welcome breath of fresh air to an archaic education system. There was a vigil led by the children intoning innocently in unison for god to return “Miss Keogh” and “Miss Salter”. Bless their hearts. It was almost a hopeful beacon to ward off the Evil.

Sedit remembered the ladies, cherub-faced and cheerful, asking his father for directions to a trail, near the dock. Days later, it was their bodies that returned, washed up on the grim shore. The only directions they had gotten were to their demise. They were discovered by a sailor, out on an early morning fishing haul.

The tragedy had hit Sedit’s father with a force. He became sullen and watchful, suddenly suspicious of everything around him. His skin had paled while time sped up the clock on his face.

The village’s attitude had also shifted. Fewer people were out and about near the docks or the boardwalk. Laughter echoing through the square became increasingly sparse. Dozens of people claimed to spot monsters in the water. Ancient gods and dark forces were now the center of discussion. Little effort was spent to substantiate these claims, which only served to propagate hysteria. But that’s the thing about hysteria; it has a mind of its own and corrupts that of countless others. And in the water, those minds could wander to all depths.

Then came the next disappearance. A young boy. Brave and fearless as one often is when growing up in an area that values traditional masculinity. His father was a surly man whose occasional smile was reserved for his only son. His own pride and joy. He often boasted of how his boy would one day make a fine captain of his own fleet. But once again, fate would disagree. At first, the disappearance was chalked up as a childish prank; the boy being widely known for his mischievous nature. However, as the evening light faded into darkness, the village became stricken with worry.

The next morning, the boy’s small, withered hand was found, washed up on the shore. The little village was a helpless victim of a force it could not fathom. Worryingly, the aftermath had been somber and more resigned. Almost like the locals had accepted the darkness.

The boys disappearance had been the last straw. The police decided to bring on an independent investigator. A tall burly man whose figure was more suited to a lumberjack, he conducted countless interviews with the villagers. However, the local accounts of the events diverged so sharply that they gave no indication of what was actually happening.

Being a respected elder in the area, Sedit’s father was the only person that seemed to provide any sort of credible account of the monster and the areas it frequented. He talked of the danger it posed but convinced the detective that these were the harsh realities of living in the relative wilderness and coexisting with the monsters below. That this was the deal when the devil was at your doorstep. Regardless, a map of the danger areas was drawn and town councils were held to warn locals.

As time passed, Sedit’s father claimed to have developed an inexplicable kinship with the monster. Almost like he had learnt to tame it. To control it. And for a while, the attacks subsided and a semblance of normalcy was restored. A cautious kind of normalcy. One that was akin to a boat resting on a large wave. Locals knew once that wave came crashing, there was little chance the boat would stay afloat.

Still, people started regarding the father with an air of worship and clung to his every word during council meetings. While nobody else did more than glimpse the monster, his father began to refer to it like the devil only he knew. He talked warily about seeing the gleam in the monster’s eye and sometimes even protectively about the countless times he had travelled safely in its vicinity.

Only Sedit knew the damage this was doing to his father. The sleeplessness, the guilt of being so near something that was causing pain to so many and destroying the very village he held dear. In fact, his father had become so paranoid, he had demanded that they only leave the house together, regardless of proximity to the water. Sedit, valuing his freedom, felt compelled to slip away unnoticed from time to time. Besides, an extra person just meant an extra victim.

A few months passed in this state of limbo before the wave of stability finally crashed. Two more sudden disappearances. A well-known fisherman and his apprentice. Both with years of experience, knowing the ways of the water. Far away from the marked areas. Parts of one body washed up on the shore a week later, the whereabouts of the other left to the darkest parts of the imagination.

Locals desperately began packing up their lives in search of safer pastures. The town’s population – people who had resided there for generations – halved. The tide had finally turned and the town fell victim to the darkness. Many claimed to feel constantly watched. So too did Sedit. His father’s vigilant gaze did little to stop the eerie feeling.

And now, here Sedit was, trying desperately to speed away in their battered fishing trawler. His own flight of fear had begun after the last attack. Two hikers, a presumably naïve couple, had been missing for a few hours.

Once again, it was his father who had found them, this time barely conscious, on the ground by his boat. He hauled their bloodied torsos onto the trawler in a despairing attempt to buy some time but momentarily returned to the dock to try and locate the monster. His final gasp pierced out into the woods and made its way into Sedit’s mind where it would echo for eternity. He had knelt over his fathers twitching body whose eyes conveyed a tale of regret and despair. He began dragging the dying body onto the boat but stopped in his tracks as he heard a rustling in the distance. He could not linger. The next thing he knew was that he was speeding away on the boat, every fiber of his being shaken, leaving his father to die out on the docks.

It was a brisk night, but Sedit knew that was not the reason he felt a chill up his spine. He gazed into the water and saw the familiar gleam glinting on the water against the dimming light of the dusk. It was funny how welcoming it sometimes seemed despite holding so many secrets within its depths.

The humming in the distance amplified, jolting him out of one day-mare and into another, bringing back into focus the sound of the persistent screams. He had to steel his nerves. It was time to act. He spotted a nearby clump of land with a crumbling, makeshift pier. It was barely fifty meters in length, but Sedit knew he had few viable options left. It was time to fight for his future or meet his maker. He quickly swerved his boat in its direction.

The humming grew louder by the second, as he brought his trawler to a gradual stop. The muffled screams were now louder and more urgent than ever. He took a deep, measured breath. He had to save himself first. In the distance, he finally saw the source of the humming.

A speed boat.

He quickly docked his own boat next to the dilapidated wooden platform and hopped out. His heart was beating out of his chest. The wind whipped his face, numbing it, and the only sensation remaining was an all encompassing chill emanating from his spine. He strained his eyes to make out the boat in the distance.

On the approaching boat stood just one man.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

His relief was short lived as this man looked big and familiar. His silhouette cut an imposing figure against the misty horizon. Was this what he was running from?

“That thing nearly got to me!” he shouted nervously across to the newcomer. “My boat stalled, any chance I could get a little help?”

The stranger eyed him curiously and bellowed back, “What brings you out here this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sedit cautiously replied

“Well, I followed you here,” the newcomer said menacingly. Sedit spotted a small gun in his hand.

“Well, that beast just killed my father! I was running. I thought it was following me!” A note of panic entered his voice.

“There is no monster,” the newcomer retorted, hopping off his boat and moving closer to Sedit.

“What are you saying! It just killed my father!” Sedit screamed, desperate for the newcomer to believe him.

“There is no monster,” he repeated with a hateful glare, his hands now rising to firmly point the gun toward Sedit.

Looking down the barrel of a gun, Sedit's next words were vital to his survival. He chose to plead, “Please sir, can’t you hear the screams?”

The newcomer’s face momentarily registered surprise as he strained to listen to the screams in the distance.

Sedit seized this confusion and his hands wrapped around the trusty carving knife perched on his hip. Not daring to hesitate he stepped forward expertly and thrusted his knife into the stranger’s abdomen. The gun rang off into the night, the bullet flying harmlessly into the murky waters. Adrenaline coursed through him as he repeatedly stabbed the stranger until he fell limp to the ground.

“There is no monster!” Sedit bellowed sarcastically, glaring at the body lying at his feet. His breathing was heavy but the clarity had returned.

“Don’t come down to the old Hague Lake” “Where the monsters lurk in the deep beneath” “It might be you, it might be me” “Into darkness for eternity“

Sedit’s eyes glinted in the night. He heaved a sigh of relief and unleashed a wicked smile. He was safe. All that was left was to tie up the loose ends. His father’s final act, whether unwitting or not, had made this a lot easier. His foolish, god-fearing, guilt-ridden father who had been torn between his morals and his blood. Whether his plan had been to save the hikers or to protect his son would never be clear but fate had stepped in.

God had a plan that night and luck was on the side of the devil. He ambled back aboard his boat and walked purposefully towards the hold. The screaming beckoned him with every step.

It was time to handle them.