The Storm That Took Him at the Lake’s Edge

Reports of a storm had been surging for weeks, but it didn’t feel like one was coming. It was just like any other day. Gleaming amber light raced through the tall, branching canopy and struck the fresh, uncut earth beneath it, mingling in with the ferns and flowers much like a Joan Mitchell piece. It changed quite often and had many faces throughout the day, but this was my favorite. A tranquil state where nothing much happened, and you were free to explore however you wished. A symphony of yellow sun, green leaves, and lush flora performing around you.

Deeper in the forest, far from where we lived, lay a lake; nested between thick forest and a bit of open underbrush. Our grandfather — or perhaps the father before and the one before that — had built a small dock for… well who knows really. It had nothing around it and would sit undisturbed for most of the year. A bit underwhelming considering how much effort went into it; foundations dug deep into the clay, reinforced with not only Iron nails but splints and strategic cuts meant to last decades.

“Remember that bird that happened to fall out of the air? Parents were annoyed at how sensitive we were. Odd isn’t it?”

The words tugged me out of my haze. You often forget where you are while exploring here, and today was no different. I took a moment to collect myself and remember where I was and reply to my friend walking beside me. Both of us walked in unison.

“Yeah, I remember. ‘You can’t fix the world by feeling’” I mocked what they said back then. We were kids after all, sensitive is what you’d want from us. I wish I had said what I really wanted to, ‘I’d rather feel, it makes me more human than you are’

He chuckled at my response, then broke into a sprint when he saw glistening sparks strike his eyes from afar; we found the lake once again.

I paused to catch my breath. The underbrush had thickened since I last came here, making it harder to cross without twisting an ankle, or worse. Our grandfather often kept it tame, ensuring that he could come out here whenever he pleased.

“Come on! You gonna slouch there all day or join me and sit down? View ain’t getting any better.” He descended onto the edge of the deck, feet playing in the water.

“When do you think the storm is going to hit?” I said, slowly making my way over. Stepping carefully to avoid getting any mud on my shoes.

“Who cares? Jump into the lake if it does. You think fish prepare for a storm?”

It was an idiotic statement. People from far west had been fleeing east, in search of help. The storm, if it was real, was said to be like nothing we had ever seen. But in the moment there was no resentment towards his words, no anxiety urging me to get up and move before the weather turned; I’d rather sit there with him, even in danger, than head out.

“That’s not what your parents would want. They’re probably worried, wondering where you are.”

Ripples strewed across the lake’s surface, not just fish teasing algae but tiny droplets falling through the sky. A slight chill had crept in the air at this point.

“It’ll only be a couple minutes. Look at the glistening water. Like a silver mirror you could bathe in.”

“The clouds can turn in minutes, and finding our way back could take forever.” I responded. I always hated how uncaring he could be at times. Or was it naivete? Maybe a slight glimmer of wisdom for all I knew.

“It’ll take us even longer to see those mountains in such clear view. You think we’ll be allowed back here again?”

A petrichor tang drifted through the air, and the chill turned to a frigid breeze. It didn’t feel right to stay here. My nerves had gotten the better of me.

“Well I’m leaving before we’re in any more trouble.” I rose in haste and walked back to the underbrush, trying to make my way through. That's when the first heavy droplets fell. Droplets turned to beads, and beads turned to relentless rain. In only a couple minutes, the forest went from warm tranquil, to wet, hazy, and cold.

In a panic I ran back to the dock to collect him, but he wasn’t there. The lake’s seamlessly unified and sparkling surface turned shattered. Each bead shattering the surface further, breaking into countless trembling pieces. The gleam turned dark, and muddy. I stepped to the edge, hoping to see him in the lake, playing beneath the surface like he had suggested. But there was nothing. Even his deep, muddy, footprints had disappeared. Erased before mine.

A large bolt of lightning hit the trees behind me, jolting me forward into the frigid water. It was… fine. Strangely so.

The boundary between the water beneath, and water above were polar opposite. A clear and deep cyan lay beneath the surface, undisturbed and indifferent to what was happening above. The rain didn’t pierce far, and the fish swam calmly, unconcerned.

For a moment, I wish I stayed beneath the surface. Holding my breath for as long as I could before having to resurface. It was exhausting, but satisfying.

The rumours were true. The storm was real.

And still, like a fool, I dove into water, chasing a stillness I knew couldn’t last.