Foggy Waters

Jacob maneuvered his skiff out onto the deepest, darkest section of the lake. This was almost his favorite part. It wasn’t his favorite, but almost.

The sound of the splash when the tied and weighted silent lumps of unmoving organic material hit the water caused his dick to get hard and this time, when the second mound went in, he had ejaculated right into his old boxers. He wasn’t even touching himself, or them. Not now anyway, but earlier; oh yes earlier.

Earlier was his favorite part. He craved it, obsessed about it, dreamed about it; plotted about it. That way, when the opportunity presented itself, and it always did; he would have his ground preparations at the ready. He need only unabashedly cajole one until it was eating out of his naked, dirty palm. That’s when he cast his hook and then. Then the final take-down of one of those delectable creatures to his bed; well in all honesty and transparency, lashed to his work table. Splayed out for his viewing delight, and other pleasures. Oh yes, that was definitely his favorite part; he whispered to the inky dark cauldron beneath him as it fed upon the sacrifices he provided.

Absently, he wondered how many there had been. He didn’t keep count, didn’t matter anyway, to anyone. Jacob leaned over the side of his dilapidated old boat to watch the bubbles rising to the surface. The last visage of bubbles carrying oxygenated air from what was and no longer is, burst through the surface of the still waters. His entire body hummed with excitement.

Jacob hung there for a long while, his big body slack over the side of the bobbing boat. Watching, wondering, wishing. Always wanting more. That’s why tonight’s gift was so extraordinary. He’d gotten more, two of them! Thank you very much.

It was so much more delicious when there were two, he decided. One watching, bound and silenced while he did the other. His body seized at the thought of it, nearly expelling once more. Particularly so much more exciting the way it had been. A young one, untouched, fresh. The older one, the terror in her eyes as he did her young. God! It fed his soul to the core to watch her face, while he fed off the terror … and pain, of the young one. It had been so good, so sweet that he’d had to do that one again, right away. That had never happened before. A gift from the Lake he’d do well never to forget.

Whispered voices carried over the water, barely a breath of a sound. Men! There were men on his lake! His knees hit the bottom of his skiff, pain arced through his thighs. He lifted his head to listen. Searing flames of white heat exploded in his head just above his right eye.

Jacob’s limp body slid slowly over the side of the boat. The Lake drew it down into its coldest depths amid tendrils of dark, swirling water; devouring it completely. The Lake hungrily accepted her gift.

Sheriff Anderson held his rifle tightly to his cheek, long after that bastard had fallen overboard. But he had not fallen, something had risen from the Lake and pulled the man off the side of the skiff into the water.

That splash. The splash that body made was, tantalizing. The sound of it, addictive. He longed to hear it again. He thought it the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He thought it had to be the most favorite thing he had ever heard. The Lake smiled.