Lake Lopel

June 15, 2010
By janksta21 BRONZE, Lake Forest Park, Washington
janksta21 BRONZE, Lake Forest Park, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The sun ducked below the horizon, as darkness fell over the lake. Greg had just finished pitching his tent and began planning for dinner.
“Hey Jim! What do you want to do for dinner,” Greg yelled into the closed tent.
Greg waited a couple minutes for a response and hastily entered the tent. Jim was on the floor sleeping as sound as a log.

“Give me a couple minutes, that hike was exhausting. A man needs to rest after a ten mile hike,” Jim groaned.

Greg had known Jim since they were kids and he was all too aware of Jim’s sleeping habits.

“Fine. I will meet you down at the lake in ten minutes. Make sure to bring the tackle box and your fishing pole,” Greg said.

“Will do,” Jim replied, rolling over on his side.
After leaving Jim to catch his last minutes of shut-eye, Greg started to make his way down to lake.

Greg and Jim had planned this camping trip, in an attempt to relieve the stresses of everyday life. Both friends founded a successful real-estate firm in Seattle. Greg always looked forward to coming to Northern Wisconsin, but dreaded returning to a full load of home sales and a nagging girl friend.

As Greg neared the lakeshore, the thick tree branches began to thin and the dark soil turned into fine sand. The northern sun reflected a thin light off the murky water giving a spooky effect. A nearby owl perched on a tree branch, screeched as Greg passed. Minutes after Greg set up his gear, hear Jim’s voice.

“Any bites yet?” Jim bellowed.

“Nope, but with your looks the fish are bound not to bite for the rest of the night,” retorted Greg.

“Haha, you are such a funny guy,” Jim scoffed. “Let me show you how a real pro does it.”
With a quick flick of the wrist, Jim sent the lure hurling over the glassy water. With the expertise of a pro, Jim jigged the line back and forth around sunken logs and lily pads.
“I’ve hooked a big one,” Jim gasped, as he skillfully tugged on the line.
Minutes later, a large trout was dragged up onto the shore.

“Boy, that’s a beauty,” said Greg. I bet you five bucks you cannot catch another one”.
Within minutes, Jim had another fish on the beach.

“Okay, wise guy. Double or nothing,” said Greg.
Jim happily flung the lure out near a half submerged log.
The line immediately grew taught.
“No way, not another one,” Greg said mournfully.
“I don’t think it is another one. It feels more like a snag on that rotting log,” responded Jim.
“That is my favorite lure. Since you caught us dinner, I will go unhook the snag,” said Greg hastily.
Greg Swiftly entered the murky water and tried to follow the line.

“Pull the line tight so I can see where the lure is stuck,” yelled Greg back to the shore.

“Okay. Whatever you say boss,” Yelled Jim.
With a quick tug, Jim quickly pulled the line taught. Greg could easily see where the shimmering line disappeared below the murky surface. Greg swiftly traced the line down to the lure and tried to untangle it. However, the lure appeared to be trapped between a large rock and the rotten, moss covered log.

“Hey Jim, help me get this rock up,” yelled Greg to the shore.
Within minutes, Jim’s large frame was bounding into the water.

“In need of my muscles?” Jim chuckled.
With a large heave, Greg and Jim grabbed the rock and lifted with all their might. To their delight, the lure easily became free and floated gracefully to the surface. Suddenly Greg noticed that Jim’s face was pale white and his eyes were as wide as his waistline. Greg hastily followed Jim’s line of sight. To his horror, a corpse of a young man had surfaced where the lure had been removed. The body was covered in ragged clothes and the flesh had begun to rot from the bone. The aroma was so strong and putrid that Greg stumbled back.

“Oh my God. Is that what I think it is?” exclaimed Jim.

“I don’t believe this. How did a dead body end up in three feet of water?” remarked Greg.

“We have to get out of here now,” yelled Jim in a frightened tone. “Give me your phone”

“No reception buddy, sorry,” remarked Greg.
Suddenly a blood-curdling scream broke the air. Jim jumped. Greg faltered back.

“What and where did that come from?” Both Greg and Jim said simultaneously.
Jim looked across the lake to where the sound had seemed to originate. He could barely make out a small structure through the brush.

“Pass me the binoculars,” Jim asked Greg.
With the binoculars up to his face, Jim could make out a small cabin on the other side of the lake.
“I thought this place had no inhabitants,” remarked Jim shivering.
“I didn’t think the legends were true,” Said Greg with a look of horror.
“What legend?” Jim.
“The legend of the “Lopel Killer,”” remarked Greg.
Another blood curdling scream broke the night. Both Greg and Jim took off towards the camp. Jim and Greg passed the campsite and made for the car. Ten minutes later Jim and Greg were in the car.
“What were you thinking?” yelled Jim.
“I’m sorry, I thought I told you about the recent sightings,” retorted Greg.
“Sightings? What sightings?” gasped Jim, wide eyed.
“I heard on the local new a mysterious killer has been in the area,” explained Greg.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Are you out of your mind? Seriously, you are an idiot,” said Jim.
“I already told you I was sorry. What more do you want me to do?” responded Greg.

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