Timothy Wakes stole the fishing boat because he had never been fishing. He had lived next to the lake for years but had never had the courage to go out on it. With Timothy being an only child. Things were hard. His dad had passed away when Timothy was only two years old and his mum had committed suicide shortly after. It didn't seem right, the more he thought about it the more apparent the injustice became, and, at 2 o'clock after a long period of hard thinking and head scratching, he decided to right the wrong. He shuffled from his room at the back of Ed's junk yard, clutching a key, a pen, some paper a bottle and a can of beer. He made his way through the the wrecked cars, piles of tires, thought the trees and down to the little dock where Ed rented out space to the locals. He cast a bloodshot and slightly out-of-focus eye on the collection of small boats and after a while decided the aluminium skiff, belonging to one of the bankers in the town, because there was a fishing rod lying in it and because it had two propellers. That sounded like a good idea to Timothy, there were always tales of people getting stranded out on the lake after the propellor had failed, and guess who had to mend them!,Timothy got the outboard started easily enough, even if he did nearly fall overboard doing it; then he pointed the skiff towards the middle of the lake, steering an erratic course. The night...or morning, was warm and the skies were clear, and the noise of the outboard soon began to intrude on Timothy's appreciation of the nature around him and decided to switch it off and changed it with the smaller electric propellor, that ran on a car battery, sitting beside him. It's shallow hum was more in tune with the natural surroundings of the lake. Soon he had cast a line at the back of the boat and by God. He was fishing. On a lake! As he glanced back towards the town, he saw that the only sign of lights on were at bubba's and were probably the result of a late night gamble with Harold and Freddie, the old-timey gaslights along the Main Street cast a warm honey glow upon the solid brick faces of the store fronts. It was all very pretty, Timothy thought, a pretty town. He was glad he lived there. During the week he did his work, and at the weekends he would think long and hard about his parents trying to remember any of them. He cracked open a cold beer and settled in the bottom of the boat, his head resting on a furniture cushion and staring up to the stars, awe-struck by their beauty with all of them staring down at him from the moonless night.Timothy wasn't sure what time he had woken up. He was closer to the shore, and the little electric motor was draining the last of it battery's juice, barely moving the boat. A moment later it stopped all together, and the boat was drifting. The night and the water were surprisingly still and the stars were reflecting brightly on the waters surface. For a moment Timothy was sure he was floating in outer-space, with stars both above and below him. He was so enchanted with the beauty of the stars that he wasn't looking around him. Timothy's body was separated with his mind and it was floating somewhere off in space. Until suddenly his body became once again connected and Timothy became very aware of his surroundings, but still in a slight haze. Then he saw the lights. They were obviously not stars; they were much to bright. Timothy froze for a moment. The faint memory of an old movie came to him, something about space invaders. If the lights were reflecting in the water the source of them would have to be directly above him. But Timothy heard nothing. A flying saucer! Yes they don't make any noise. With his eyes fixated on the reflection he slowly got to his knees, making no sudden movements. The lights weren't moving, The goddamn thing was right above his head! He decided to pluck up the courage to gaze up, he did and what he saw sent a whole shiver through his body. There was nothing. The only thing above him was the deep blue sky, scattered with stars. With Timothy being completely fascinated and horrified by the events he decided upon another can of beer. He was too sober for this sort of experience. His heart was thumping against his chest, accelerated by his close call with being kidnapped into space. Timothy had read something in the DAILY DIGEST about some folks who had been kidnapped by a flying saucer and while they seamed to have an extraordinary experience it sure had screwed their life good. Nobody had believed them or anything, and sure as hell nobody would believe him if he had been taken up into space and came back to tell the tale. Timothy began to chuckle at himself, at his own foolishness. He laughed out loud. He had begun to feel cold. He knew it was time to be getting back, as he struggled up to his seat to start the outboard, he glanced at the lake. The lights in the water were back, winking at him in the ripples the movement of the boat had made. He looked quickly above him, determined this time to catch the ship or whatever it was then back at the reflection. He did this three or four times before he was sure there was nothing above him. He looked back at the lights. They were still there, but they weren't reflections on the top side of the water at all. The mysterious reflections had come from under the lake.Timothy stared dumbly at the lights, trying to get his brain to think through the alcohol. The lights didn't seem close to the surface, but far below. And there was a pattern, a familiar pattern. A house. They were the lights of a house. And all of a sudden Timothy knew; he remembered. He had seen this place before and had never expected to see it again. He looked quickly up at the shoreline for evidence all of this wasn't real. He turned and looked for the water tower of the town, with its red lights in the distance over a promontory. His mind triangulated as if it were a big radio. He was in the cove. Oh, sweet Jesus he was back in the cove.
In terror, he looked back at the lights; now he could see more. He was looking at fields and trees under the lake. He could see the house and the road from above. As if he was a skyscraper, looking over a great city, or town in this case. As he looked he could see a car pull away from the house and start to travel along the road. Timothy Wakes had had enough, he had lost his fight with panic. He grabbed the starter cord and, thank god, it roared into life, just as he was to put the engine into gear, an unearthly groan came from the water below. It's sound echoing for miles against the rock faces, Timothy whacked the engine in gear and opened the throttle to full. The boat shot forward, throwing Timothy back into the engine. He blacked out. But just before his mind fell into the black hole of unconsciousness he recalled the boy, the same boy that had tortured, scarred and mentally disturbed him from all those years ago.
