Free Skinny-Dipping at Monster Lake by Bill Wallace Page B

down on my bottom lip and snort.
    â€œLake Monster,” I scoffed, whispering inside my own head. “How stupid can you get? There’s no monster.”
    â€œBut whatever it was,” I argued with myself, “it might see the light and you’ll never know.”
    There were crickets chirping and little crunchy sounds that came from the dry grass at times. Convinced the “crunchies” were mice, I kept the light off. Something rustled some cattails out in the water. For only an instant I flipped my light on and decided it was just the waves.
    Last year, for my birthday, Dad had given me a nice dive watch. It had hands that glowed in the dark. It was only ten forty-five. I’d give it until midnight.
    The next time I looked, it was ten forty-nine. Maybe I’d give it until eleven thirty.
    The rock where I’d picked to sit was smooth and flat. At first it was comfortable. After about thirty minutes I decided it was the hardest rock I ever met. I kept shifting my weight—leaning from oneside to the other—but nothing seemed to help. My bottom ached and no matter what I tried, there wasn’t any way to get comfortable.
    At eleven forty I just couldn’t take it anymore. I struggled to my feet and set the flashlight down so I could rub my aching bottom and my legs. As I raised up and leaned back so I could massage the sore spot in the small of my back, I looked out on the lake.
    Eyes looked back at me!
    About three feet beneath the surface, they were bright and burning. Not orange or yellow this time, they glowed almost white-hot as it stared at me.
    Slow and steady, they moved beneath the surface. They were coming this way!

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    C hances were, I’d probably break my neck if I tried to jump from this pile of rock and go running for home. I’d more than likely end up lying on the ground, with two broken legs. Totally helpless—all I’d be able to do was wait for the monster to crawl out of the water and come after me.
    There were all sorts of stories about the Monster of Cedar Lake. Late at night, fishermen had seen its eyes. They had tales about it chewing through trotlines as smooth as a hot knife cuts butter. One fisherman had told that something grabbed his boat anchor and dragged him and his boat halfway across the lake before the rope broke. People had seen the eyes—glowing beneath the surface of the water. But nobody had ever seen the monster. And even seeing the eyes . . . well, the stories were few and far between. It just didn’t happen that often. I couldn’t believe that I saw them again tonight.
    Trouble with seeing them was . . . if this thing kept coming, straight at me . . . well, I was goingto see the Monster of Cedar Lake—“up close and personal.” That was something I simply did not want to do.
    The way I figured it, there wasn’t much choice. I was going to have to jump from the pile of rocks and try to make it to the house. Maybe—even if I broke my leg, I could still drag myself and . . .
    What if this pile of rock I’d picked to watch from was its lair—its nest? Maybe there was a cave under the rock. Maybe . . .
    Legs tensed, knees bent, I was just ready to jump when the eyes slowly turned to my left.
    Motionless, I held my breath until I finally realized the eyes were moving away. They were headed toward the end of the lake. Trying to climb down off the pile of rock, and still keep from losing sight of the eyes, was a challenge.
    Once on flat ground I had to run to catch up with the monster. Jogging in the dark was kind of tricky, but I stayed between the lake and the grass line. Even at that, I hit the water a couple of times, but I didn’t slow down.
    I followed the eyes for nearly a quarter of a mile. When they stopped and turned back to look at the bank, I froze in my tracks. I was on Mrs. Baum’s place, not far from the little work shed that