Saturday, June 2, 2018

The Mystery of Quincy Lake

The Mystery of Quincy Lake
Kayla Jones
(age 16)

                Marty set his heavy luggage down and wiped his tan forehead. The dust from the old country road swirled  around his feet as he took in the view of his uncle’s old estate. The small cabin was old-too old perhaps. The shutters shielding the windows were sagging, and flapping in the light summer breeze. The shingles had started falling off and the door was wide open.
               He grabbed his two suitcases loaded with clothes and food, and started walking toward the building. He slowly walked up the three squeaky porch steeps and peered inside the cabin. “Hello?” He said uneasily. A bird flew out of the cabin, jumping Marty enough that he fell backwards.
                “What’s a young man doing out here in the country by yerself? Why, I have a right ta skin ya alive for sneakin’ up on me like that.” A voice of an old man chuckled. “He he, you have some lessons to learn, all right. The lake will teach ya.”
                Marty trembled at the harsh, unfamiliar voice. He stood up and, grabbing his luggage, bolted off the porch into the trees surrounding the place. He ran until he was out of breath. He gasped, while running his hand through his thick blonde hair. “Maybe I should’ve stayed with Ma and Pa. This was a dumb idea, running away.” To his left, he saw something shining through the thick pine trees. Curious, he followed the sparkles into a clearing. A small, pure looking lake lay in front of him.
                “Well,” the boy said, “This must be Quincy lake. I guess I could take a swim before I head home.” He smiled as he undressed. The water looked so clear, so refreshing. Little did he know what was hidden in the sandy bottom.
                He jumped into the water and swam around. “Ahhh” Marty sighed as the cool water soaked his body. He swam a little deeper, so that his feet barely touched the bottom. He tip-toed on the lake floor. Marty stopped when something snagged his big toe. “It doesn’t feel like a rock,” He thought. “It feels…slimy.” The words of the creepy old man living in his uncle’s old place came back to him: “The lake will teach ya.”
                Marty’s blood ran cold. He dipped his head under the water to see what his toe was snagged on. His toe wasn’t snagged at all. Marty screamed, ran out of the water, and dressed as quickly as he could. Leaving his luggage behind, he ran all the way to his home. He was later found in his bedroom, staring out the window, his eyes as smooth as a river stone-clear and empty.
              The old man had watched the boy jump out of the water, yelling and screaming in fear. He laughed and laughed till he began to wheeze. He collected himself and began to sing as he made his way home “Yup, that young whipper snapper learnt’ his less’n. Yes sir! He learnt’ real good!” The creepy man celebrated the rest of the night, because it’s not everyday that a boy learns his lesson.


(assignment for lesson #4 - Adjectives)

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