Isle of the Dead: The Room
My father, the great outdoorsman that he is, has many fantastic stories of adventure in exotic lands, and of some of the frightening activity that takes place in them. However, some of his most terrifying stories come from the same, not-quite-so-exotic location; Canada.
Now please do not take that as anything negative about Canada. It is a beautiful country. I have been there several times, including a trip to the site detailed in this story, and have loved each trip. However, when you consider my father's travels to the amazon, peruvian jungles and African savannas, Canada doesnt quite fit the 'exotic' molding.
Anyway, as I've said, I have been to the location. Forgive my lack of knowledge of the details of Canadian geography, but it is on a lake in the Manitoba region that my father did most of his fishing. I was there, on the lake and the island my father calls the 'isle of the dead', and while nothing happened while I was on the island (in the daytime, mind you), this is not my story.
The Isle of the Dead is an island situated off the shoreline of the lake my dad and godfather, Ron, always fish on. Its a fairly large island on a fairly large lake. My dad and godfather had rode past it on their fishing boat many times, and had seen the cabin on the island a few of those times, but never really paid it any mind.
One night, while sitting on the front porch of their cabin on the shoreline, smoking cigars and enjoying the cool night air, they saw a light come on in the cabin on the desolate island. Now, the island was pretty well covered in trees, and a good distance off from the shore, so they couldn't make out much more than some kind of light source emanating from the cabin. The light only shone for about 20-30 seconds and then went out. It was enough to pique their interest, since as far as they knew, not only was the cabin abandoned, but it certainly couldn't have had electricity. The next night, they again saw the light, again for only about 30 seconds.
So, over the next few days they scouted the area. Never did they see anyone enter or exit the cabin, or any sign of life near the cabin. In fact the entire island seemed devoid of life.
After a few days of seeing nothing on the island - absolutely nothing, they decided they would take their tents and camp out on it. They set up the tents and made camp, with the intention of spending their remaining days on the island.
On their first day there, they immediately set about determining the status of the cabin. Actually, 'house' is probably a more appropriate term, as it was quite a bit larger than it appeared from out on the lake, even including a second story.
After a while, they had carefully determined that the house was empty, barring some hidden room, and that they were alone on the island. After knocking on the door several times, just to be sure, they entered the house.
The main room was filled with stuffed animal species and trophy heads. Oddly, many of the species were not native to the area, or even Canada. Some weren't even native to the Americas at all. Aside from the plethora of animals, however, the dwelling was actually quite cozy. Ron and my dad went from room to room checking everything out. All the rooms were well furnished and looked as though, at least at some point, someone had lived there. All the rooms but one. On the second floor, at the end of the hall, they came to an odd little room. Inside, the room was circular and completely empty, with the exception of one wooden chair in the middle of the room. All the walls were made of stone. In the wall across from the door was a small window, about the size of a basketball. My father said it looked like an old dungeon.
Aside from that one room, the house seemed inviting. The thought of staying in the building itself had crossed the men's minds, but they eventually decided against it.
