I saw it first.
The bow of the canoe jutted out of the heavy fog creeping toward me in a predatorial fashion. Vaccumed silence surrounded me broken slightly by the distant cry of the mournful loon. My hands began to tremble becoming even more clammy as my breath caught and constricted in my chest. Time stopped. And, in my mind I imagined hearing haunting organ music that seemed to blend and belong to this eerie part of the lake. Early morning mist still marched across the lake like battle weary warriors as the canoe drew closer. Once it slid alongside my weather worn dock, I timidly leaned forward to get a better look at the inside of the canoe. My body began to shake as I recognized the faint sight of blood and multiple finger prints.I leaned in closer and suddenly felt my whole body being lifted and thrown over the canoe. Multiple witnesses would later be recorded as saying that they saw a shadowy hand rise out of the water and pull me down into its depths. And, on the tails of the wind, they heard this wailing chant:
Return to the lake my dearest one
Remember the lake sirens as we have sung.
Return to our lake and let it be done.
I really enjoyed this prose poem. It brought tension and delicate details together. (I’m sure it doubles as an excellent piece of Flash fiction, if you were so inclined to publish it as such…!) Lovely piece of writing!
Thanks Katrina! After I finished writing it, I thought of the very same thing. I might flesh it our a bit as Flash Fiction. Thanks for the support and advice!
Ingrid, you’ve done a great job with the description here! I was engulfed in the atmosphere and the mystery. I would even read an entire short story on this idea!
Thanks Bavishya!! I didn’t mean to write this as a prose poem but my imagination (and attention) began to wander half way through the half. I think I will definitely keep this and submit to as flash fiction or longer mystery. Thanks for your feedback.