No More Nights at Nolan Lake

The stars were spinning above me and the ground was turning to mush beneath my back. The crisp air on the clear night didn’t do much to help my revival. Maybe I was a lightweight when it came to alcohol but I didn’t drink that much out here. That keg had for sure been watered down. If one of the other high school seniors had brought it then it might as well have just been yeast-flavored water. There was a high-pitched breeeee sound ringing deep inside of my ears and an acidic taste knocking at the inside of my sternum. Oh God, please don’t let me puke in front of everyone. The ONE time I got invited to a party at the infamous lake. I took a slow, deep breath and the acidic taste nulled. The ringing in my ears was fading and replaced with what sounded like chaotic, terrified shouting in the distance. 

Turning myself to my side, my eyes danced in their sockets as they tried to locate where the shouting was coming from. No one else was seated around the fire pit now. A couple of the camping chairs had been overturned, spilling graham crackers and marshmallows into the dirt. Red plastic cups were cracked and split from being stepped on. The shouts were now distant echoes in the surrounding trees. There was a choking metallic sound of a worn out car engine coming to life and spinning tires in the dirt. “You ASSHOLE!” a girl’s voice cried out at the car’s tail lights as got smaller and smaller. I crawled to my knees and got myself upright. My legs were wobbling but at least I was standing up and now had a better view of my surroundings. 

The girl who had screamed at the car came running towards me. She stumbled on her heels in the dirt, nearly twisting her ankle in an unseen hole. It was Trista. A girl in my chemistry class who sat in the opposite corner of the room with the other girls on the varsity volleyball team. Tonight was the only time I had seen her outside of school. Her cheeks were flushed rouge and coated in tears. The girl who didn’t even say, “Hey,” to me in the hallways was now clinging to my sleeves in desperation. 

“W-where’s your car?” she sobbed.

“My…? What’s even going on?”

“WHERE IS YOUR CAR?”

“I got a ride from my dad!”

“WHAT?!” Even in her panicked state it was like she felt embarrassed for me that my dad had driven me to the cabin for the party. He had reminded me that he was once my age, too, and knew how parties could get and didn’t want me to drink and drive. He didn’t care about my underage drinking so much but he didn’t want me driving at all either way. 

“Where is everybody?” I asked sternly, still unsure of what was even going on around me. It was all a blur in the back of my head. There was a shriek, a rush of everyone getting out of their chairs, a blunt THUMPF as I was shoved to the ground, then I woke up on my back. 

“You didn’t see him?!” 

“See who?” She couldn’t answer me as she was back to sobbing, unable to control her breath at all. The shouting in the distance had stopped. Either everyone had run out of ear shot or had just stopped shouting. 

“Is this some kind of a joke?” I looked at her.

“A joke?” She squeaked.

“Yeah. Someone had the bright idea of scaring the pants off of us. Out here, in the middle of the woods, in the dark, a bunch of high school kids. Was it that Owen guy? That jerk-off dressed up like Jason on Halloween, remember? The principal yelled at him for wearing a mask in school.”

“You didn’t see him?” She repeated.

“See WHO?!” 

“That guy,” she pointed past my shoulders.

The moonlight reflecting off of the lake illuminated the outline of a behemoth on the corner neighboring where we stood. My first thought was that it was a black bear standing on its hind legs, it felt like the only explanation for its towering size. There was a slight movement in its arms, which caused the head of the ax to catch the moonlight and brightly reflect. Taking lumbering steps, he headed our way. After a few steps, the light hit him better. His overalls were probably once black but had now faded to a dusty charcoal, same as his shirt that had probably once been white but was now stained in various shades of browns. The black trucker hat on his head left his face featureless in the shadow of the brim. 

Trista tugged at my shoulders, nearly ripping my sleeves at their seams. “That guy! He already killed Trevan! He swung that ax at us at the fire pit!” That explains me getting shoved to the ground and hitting my head on the edge of the fire pit. I must’ve been down long enough that he must’ve figured I was dead or at least not a threat. 

He was charging at us now, his steps thundering in the dirt. He held the ax in front of his chest, careful not to let it fling around carelessly as he picked up his pace. I didn’t think it was a joke anymore. 

Trista and I bumped into each other as we turned around to run. I scampered as best as I could to keep up with Trista and her long legs. Turning around to see where our attacker was and it seemed like we didn’t put any distance between us. We headed up the hill back towards the cabin and where the cars were parked. Leaning forward to run up the hill I ended up on my hands and feet and climbed a few steps until I was able to get my balance back. 

I reached the top of the hill. The wooden cabin had seen better days but it functioned well enough. Whoever's uncle or dad or whoever owned it hadn’t made any sort of renovations recently and it showed. The windows weren’t broken but the window panes were splintered. The wooden porch had holes where the panels didn’t fully connect and spots where it warped and dipped but it held your weight long enough to make your way inside. 

I heard a frantic rustling of leaves and low branches behind me. I had lost sight of Trista somewhere on the hill. Trista was whimpering somewhere in the dark. Her voice swelled into a scream. I could see the ax break through the leaves in a downward swing shhhwwwUMPH and it connected to something solid. Someone solid. Trista’s scream became a muffled, gargling cry. 

The acidic taste came up past my sternum and I could taste it at the back of my tongue. I could feel my nerves clenching at my stomach. The garling sound stopped after a few moments. My breath wouldn’t move past my chest. The only noise now was some crickets behind the cars. I felt as if the cabin was a thousand miles from anywhere now. I could scream and cry and run until the muscles in my legs burned but I wouldn’t find help and help wouldn’t find me. The branches had begun to settle back down then began to get forced aside. 

I took a few steps backwards before I sprung back around and made my way up to the cabin. I was up the steps and to the front door in two jumping steps. I tried to turn the door knob. Locked. I pushed and pulled at the door, hoping maybe it was flimsy enough to fall apart and give me a place to hide. It didn’t. I turned back to see a dark figure begin to take shape through the branches. I ran across the porch and hurled over the railing, luckily it didn’t break under my swinging weight. I came down hard on my knees on the other side, sending a jolt of pain radiating through my legs. 

In front of me I spotted a hole beneath the porch. There was a gap underneath the porch that was wide enough for me to crawl through and the porch was tall enough for me to army-crawl beneath it. Hopefully it would be enough to shield me in the darkness. My hands and elbows dug into the dirt as I crawled my way further and further beneath the porch. I could see the steps outside and I could see gigantic feet at their base. I froze. 

There was the sound of the crickets again. They sang along.

In my terror, I nearly soiled myself. The mammoth man stood stoic. Did he see me on the porch? Did he hear me come down here? Oh God, does he KNOW? The few seconds he stood there dragged on until he turned, barely lifting his feet from the dirt, and headed past the cabin, past the cars, and began walking up the road on which we drove in.

I exhaled but my chest remained achingly tight. I let my head fall to the dirt.

I could see the sky through the cracks in the porch.

The stars in the sky were stationary now.