• Dzama

Three Girls

The girls had hooked their inflatable rafts together and spun lazily in the lake, chatting and sunning themselves. The sun was high in the sky and the water was smooth except for the occasional ripples caused by a slight breeze. They floated further and further out, and as the lake house got farther and farther away they shared more secrets that they didn’t want anyone else to hear.

Then the water exploded and a huge sea-monster rose up with Tabitha and her torn yellow raft in its repulsive mouth. The other two girls screamed. The monster sunk back into the water and was gone with Tabitha. The water was calm again and Lorie and Candice floated in slow circles, sobbing hysterically.

When Lorie calmed herself her fear turned to anger. She leaned over the side of her raft and peered into the deep water. “I think I see her,” she said. Without another word she dove into the water. “Don’t!” screamed Candice, now all alone.

Candice floated and waited, in shock, staring blankly at the still water and trembling. That’s how the rangers found her, far on the other end of the lake, and it took forever to get a word out of her. When she finally did speak she babbled about the mall and all the shoes she was going to buy.

When the officials had exhausted all their questioning and gotten nowhere, they released her back to her family in the lake house. Her mother told her to sleep it off. She slept for a while but woke up in the middle of the night. She snuck out to the lake and stared out at the dark water.

In the morning no one could find her anywhere.

Then a day later one of the little kids who was playing near the lake let out a scream. The three girls came trudging slowly out of the water, seaweed in their hair, dragging the huge, severed sea-monster’s head between them. The family came out onto the porch and stared, awestruck. The girls dropped the disgusting head onto the dirt and turned and held hands before diving together back into the water. They disappeared beneath the calm, black surface without a trace.

Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.

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