“Something Under the Docks”
“My home is fed by the river. I pour myself a glass of water and take a sip, as instantly my mouth is awash with the flavor and textures of lake water; the mild taste of the seaweed and green, brackish silt. I know this flavor well, finding it as a common experience at the beaches from my childhood.
Back then, I would swim after my friends, desperately trying to manage to keep my head above water, supported by my thin frame. But there was never enough fat on me to keep me afloat, and then my asthma would kick in and I would sink, that water pushing its way to the back of my throat. My nostrils would burn as the smell of fish shit and whatever the hell else was in the water would linger longer than I would like.
Just in the nick of time, I would make it to shallow water, crawl my way onto the hot sand that seemed to threaten to strip my flesh, silently wondering where the phrase “in the nick of time,” came from. To this day I have never been a very good swimmer, and I still hesitate anytime I am asked to jump into water. I hate to be cold, but even worse then that I hate to not know what rests beneath my feet.
There is a story I have, one that I haven't told anyone because I knew they wouldn't believe me. I want to blame my failure as a swimmer on simply my inability to maintain my weight, but as all children know, the ability to float is only one of the many dangers that arise when we submerge ourselves. Not since we were in the comfort of our mother’s womb has water offered us a sense of security. The moment that water draws away and we are forced along the canal towards the light, we are officially separated from the water. We are land walkers, and the sea offers little security. But no other time in our life is water as scary as when we are children.
As a child I always kept my activities to the areas closest to land. I would build sandcastles out of the foul smelling clay that lay just below the surface of the shallows. It was darker and heavier than the sand above it, creating kingdoms that failed to move when tide would rise. But eventually I had to learn to be comfortable with the water, and found myself at a summer camp around the age of twelve, jumping into frigid lake water.
It was seven in the morning, and my light, thin form, struggled to keep out the cold. The others in the water seemed fine with it though and somehow I managed to struggle through it for a while. But it was clear I was being outpaced by the others, and the constant shivering caused every movement of my legs in the water to become arduous. The water was a diluted green, with plant life creating a veritable carpet of slimy, sinuous things.
After about ten minutes in the water I was well and truly chilled, though somehow I was still managing to stay afloat and in motion. As I swam, I felt a familiar seizing of motion as something slimy held fast to my foot. I thought it was just the plant life, but I soon realized that all those plants were six feet below me. But the hold held true, a deep chill filtering through my ankle, causing it to spasm uncontrollably. I looked down into the water, and saw milky white eyes looking back up at me.
I was about to scream when I felt my breath tighten in my throat, as the thing with thick, rope like gums pursed its lips, bubbles rising from its mouth issuing a simple command.
“Shhhh.”
I felt time drop away, as its grip continued to sap away all my strength. My shivering stopped, replaced by a dull numb feeling, a flickering of dots dancing across my eyes. I felt myself sinking, my vision going black. Then inexplicably it let go, sliding in a fluid motion under the dock.
I got out very soon after, complaining about the cold. The thick, long towel that they wrapped me with offered a temporary relief, but they saw that I was well past the point of swimming, so they sent me back to my campsite. I made my way into a sleeping bag I instantly fell asleep. It was only later I found out how bad I was, most people seeing the signs of hypothermia setting in only after I exited the water.
Soon after that I changed my scheduling for the merit badge to the afternoon, never telling anyone about what I saw, and managing well enough to hide the five needle pricks in my ankle. I managed to get my merit badge, and I never saw the thing again. But when I take another drink of the lake fed water I remember the days when I was young. And though it has been years since, and I am much too old to believe that what I saw as a child was real, I am still left to wonder what really did happen in that lake so long ago, and why the five distinct dots haven't gone away.”
This was sent to me by a local man. As much as I find the story interesting, it is what was included in addition to the tale that peaked my interest. In addition to the base story, scrawled in the margins was writing, speaking in a tone most akin to affection about a creature called a Kappa. In Japan it is known as a life stealing, amphibious creature that is known to kill most outright, valuing the liver and entrails most highly. I spoke with the man's friends, and though they could admit that the writing was his, they did not know him to have any knowledge of such things, and was described as living a rather narrow, simple life.
