This happened a long time ago, when I was just a kid.
My parents and I had just moved into our new house, and I spotted our neighbor for the
first time.
Absolutely the oldest man I'd ever seen.
In reality, he probably wasn't really that old, maybe in his seventies, but to a ten
year old at the time, he seemed ancient.
I remember wondering if his skin would fall off of his arm, and onto the ground beneath
him.
I even imagined that his skin actually did come off, and he kept having to replace it.
Looking back, I think his children owned the house he stayed in, and they would come by
every once a in a while to check on him, but for the most part it was just him and his
nurse.
His age isn't the only thing I know I've exaggerated in my mind.
Both of our houses sat on the edge of the massive lake, so big that you couldn't see
the opposite shore.
The water was always calm, like the lake was sleeping.
The story of us moving in is pretty boring, basically all the typical fighting that happens
between adults when they have to move cardboard boxes.
I got tired of listening and snuck out of the house (they didn't notice).
I purposefully went down the dirt road the opposite way of the old man's house, just
because I was already a little nervous about being near him.
There was another house less than a quarter mile away that I planned to just stroll past
when someone called out to me.
"Hey there," I heard an old voice.
In my mind I thought the old man had already found me.
Thankfully it was another one that didn't seem quite as ghostly.
"Hey," I said.
"You and your parents just move into that next house?" he asked.
"Yes sir."
"Welcome, welcome," he said, "Your parents are about the first people to really even
think about buying it, I bet."
I didn't say anything, but it's like he heard the question I wanted to ask.
"Of course, I guess they might not know, but then again, how couldn't they?" he said, "Isn't
that what parents are supposed to do?
Make sure their children will be safe?"
"What are you on about?"
I asked.
"You haven't heard the stories," he laughed, "Well, I'd say go on home and ask your daddy,
but if y'all moved in, he probably didn't hear them either."
"What stories?"
"Your other neighbor," he said, "His... proclivities.
You'll see tonight, if you stay awake.
Just keep an eye out your window."
I ran home.
My parents were still going at it over a box labelled 'kitchen' that should have said 'dining
room'.
The rest of the day went by quickly, and the mystery of what the other man had told me
rattled around in my head for hours.
Finally, it was nighttime, and I never left my window.
I could only assume that whatever I was supposed to see, it had something to do with the lake.
It didn't take long.
I caught a glimpse of a light moving slowly across the water.
A small light, headed out from the shore to what I imagined was the center.
It had a slight rhythmic pattern, like it was pulsing over the water instead of sliding
at a constant speed.
I went outside, and although it was still dark, I could finally just see the light for
what it was.
A small boat, a kayak, and the old skeleton man, nearly as thin as the paddle, moving
out into the lake.
On the back of his boat, a lantern hanging just above the water.
His pace was painfully slow, and it took ages for him to move the paddle from one side of
the boat to the other.
I couldn't imagine the strain he felt, pushing it through the water.
I thought it would be hard for him to even push it through the air.
I watched for a while.
As slow as he was, he was steady.
He came to what I could guess was the center of the lake and stopped, hovering over some
unseen goal, the paddle placed across his lap.
The boat settled, and the last ripples of his final strokes reached the bank at my feet.
Then the water was calm.
The lake had fallen asleep again.
I ran home.
I don't know why.
I felt like I was about to see something that I didn't want to see, and it became a little
too much too quickly.
I imagine anyone would be a little scared standing at the edge of a lake in the dark
by themselves.
I also felt like I needed to tell my parents.
The next morning, I tried to do a little detective work first.
"Dad," I asked, "Have you heard anything strange about our neighbor?"
"The old man?" he asked.
I nodded, and he sat there for a minute with a strange look on his face.
"We should have told you," he said, "Your mother and I talked about it for a long time
and decided that we shouldn't, but we probably should have."
"What is it?"
I asked.
My dad shifted in his chair, and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.
"People think that he killed his wife," he said, "They said that he kept her in the house,
cutting away at her, and each night, piece by piece, he took her out to the lake."
"Mark!"
My mom only yelled my dad's name when she was really mad.
"Why are you telling him that?" she said.
My dad laughed and kind of shrugged to me.
My mom came around the table.
"Don't listen to him, honey, he's just trying to scare you because he thinks it's funny,"
she said.
I would have usually thought it was funny too, but in this particular case I didn't.
"Is that true?"
I asked.
My parents looked at each other, and my dad could finally hear in my tone that the jokes
were landing poorly.
"That's what some people say, honey," my mom said, "They really don't know what happened
to his wife, but your father and I are sure that he had nothing to do with it.
We actually met him before we moved in, we talked with his nurse.
We wouldn't bring you somewhere that we weren't absolutely sure you'd be safe."
I felt better, but even if there wasn't some dark purpose, I still wanted to know what
was happening.
My parents had a kayak of their own.
It was way too big for me, but I at least knew how to use it.
I figured if the frail skeleton man could operate one, surely I could too.
The second night came quickly at our new house.
My parents had still been arguing over all the great complexities of the cardboard boxes.
It seems like when they're exhausted, the day goes by faster.
Once they were down and out, I made my way towards the lake shore with the family kayak.
I was nervous, but excited.
I couldn't remember doing anything like this in the past, and I think deep down everyone
wants to solve some kind of mystery.
I waited for the old man to do what he had done the night before.
He moved out into the lake, one stroke at a time, until after a long time he came to
rest.
I slid my kayak into the water, and moved towards him.
I had still been debating on whether or not I should call out, or sneak up.
The latter option felt strange, so I just settled for paddling loudly so that he would
know I was coming.
I was secretly proud that it didn't take long for me to reach him, and he didn't say anything
to me when I arrived.
"Excuse me," I said, realizing that I had deepened my voice when I said it.
He didn't even look back.
I thought he would have been looking up at the stars, but he was looking down, straight
down, over the edge of his boat, down into the water.
I glanced down but couldn't see into the lake at all.
"What are you looking at?"
I asked.
"Listen," he said, "Try to keep your boat still."
This was the first time I had heard him speak, and he had a strangely strong voice.
It didn't have the wispy quality I had expected.
I steadied my boat and tried my best not to move at all.
We sat side by side in our kayaks for a few minutes.
The water had turned into black glass on all sides of us.
No ripples or any noticeable motion whatsoever.
Sleeping.
"Okay," he said, "That's good.
Can you feel it?"
"Can I feel what?"
I asked.
"The lake is talking to us," he whispered.
He slipped his hand down the side of his boat gently into the water.
He looked at me for the first time, and motioned with his head.
I quickly conjured up plenty of images in my head of being dragged down under by thousands
of tiny hands, but dismissed them.
I slid my hand into the water as well, and waited.
"You'll feel it," he said.
I did feel it.
The lake was humming.
It felt like energy was passing through my hand, always there, but stronger at some times
than others.
It had a beat, but it varied.
"Here comes the big one," he said.
Suddenly I felt my hand move, and our boats shook slightly as a small ripple moved out
across the lake, starting from a point right between us.
I pulled my hand out of the water.
It was numb.
"What is that?"
I asked.
"I told you, the lake is talking to us," he said, "It talks to me every night.
You're the first person that has been out here with me in a long time.
What did it say to you?"
"What?"
"What did it say?"
"I don't know, I just felt some vibrations in the water or something.
I don't know what it said."
"Oh," he said, "I think you can't hear it yet."
"What did it say to you?"
He smiled.
"It told me a story that I really liked," he said.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he actually did look up at the stars.
"What was the story?"
I asked.
"About forty years ago, I actually lived in that house with my wife, and we took little
boats like this out here all the time.
Almost everyday."
He looked back towards the house.
"I was a bit of a romantic in those days.
I wanted to surprise her, so I bought some air mattresses, maybe like six of them.
I blew them all up while she was away at work, and built a raft with them, covered in blankets.
It was so janky, I was surprised that it could even float.
When she got home, I told her we were taking sail.
We stayed out on the lake all night.
We woke up around morning and paddled back.
Probably would have stayed even longer if my wife didn't have to poop."
He laughed on his own, then his voice trailed off, and he just sat there.
"She died," he said, to me and to himself, "I just come out here to remember, and hear
the stories."
His hand drifted back down into the water, and he closed his eyes.
"Honestly I'm surprised you came all the way out here, I'm sure someone told you by now
that I killed her," he said.
"Did you?"
I asked.
"No," he said, and I believed him.
"If you ever really want proof," he said, "You can ask the lake.
The lake remembers everything that has happened out here.
I'm sure it will remember tonight too."
I placed my hand back in the water, and could feel the hum again.
We sat there together for a while, him listening to what I imagined was another story while
I tried to hear anything at all.
"I think you're not old enough to need memories yet.
One day I think you'll be able to hear it," he said, "Okay, kid, you'd better get home.
I'll probably stay out a little longer."
I didn't say anything, but listened.
"When you get older, make sure you come back here.
The lake talks, and you can talk back to it.
If you believe that, then you also have to believe that the lake needs someone to talk
to, just like me and you.
Make sure you come visit, even if it's just to say hey."
I gave a little wave, and started my way back to shore.
I didn't know if I believed anything he had said.
Everything that happened kind of felt like a dream.
When I was in my room again, I could see the little lantern out over the water and surprisingly
fell asleep quickly.
I had a short dream about being an air mattress salesman.
When I woke up, both of my parents were in my room, my mom was sitting on my bed.
"What is it?"
I asked.
"Honey, something terrible has happened," she said.
I knew what it was.
I ran to my window.
On the shore of the lake was a handful of police officers and medical staff.
They were looking out over the lake and pulling some kayaks and canoes towards the water.
I looked out further.
The old man's boat was still in the center of the lake, empty.
It looked like it hadn't moved since I left the previous night, but he was gone.
The children of the old man eventually sold the home, and another family moved in.
We stayed there much longer than I think my parents originally intended, right up to when
I left for college.
I remembered the old man, but honestly I think I forgot most of what had happened that night
until I found out my mom was sick.
It happened quickly, and right before I graduated, she was gone.
During that time I thought of little else besides her and the lake I grew up on.
People say that they wish they had more time, but I think what people really want is to
truly remember the time that they had.
For each moment I remembered with my mom, I'm sure there are a thousand others I can't
recall.
If I could remember them now, isn't that the same as getting to see her again?
That's why I'm going back to the lake.
I remember the old man, and I think he just wanted more time with his wife.
I just hope it talks to me like it talked to him.