The thing rose up from the lake. Coated in a thick layer of mud it trudged toward the dock. Max was barking and pulling with all his might on the leash. I yanked him back and ran to the cottage. Opening the side door I looked back to see it lumbering past the overturned tackle box. It was slow but it looked strong; the doors on the cottage wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Date: November 19, 2009