“Disposal” might have happened. I don’t know. It takes place in a real location, on a lake I my family used to visit nearly every weekend over the summer when I was growing up — though the name was changed for the story yesterday.

It had this almost hidden bay behind an island (from our cabin’s perspective) and anything more than a light sport boat couldn’t make it without lifting the engine out of the water. There was a thin channel of water between impassable cattails, reeds and lily pads. I was always fascinated by the place, though it creeped me out. The water was stagnant and brown where the rest of the lake was clear. And going through the passage, the plants seemed to always be hiding something sinister as the water got murky.

And based on topographic surveys, the official depth in that bay was around 70 feet deep, but different surveys said different things and there was no agreement. And it was about the breadth of a large pond, which made one wonder why it was so shallow at the entrance and so deep in the center of the bay. Or, rather, I didn’t want to wonder. It really spooked me.

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