Short Horror Stories

Lake Truhold

In the daytime Lake Truhold was a little visited lake hidden away in the centre of a copse of tall spindly oak trees. It was little visited because of all of the flies that hung around the water's edge, biting at any patch of exposed skin that dared to come near. Some people said the flies were the ghosts of the stories told to the lake. Others said they were attracted to the bodies of those that had mysteriously died on the lake's shores. At night a thin mist descends on the lake, driving away even the flies. It was a desolate place that only the brave or foolhardy chose to visit.

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As the four boys stomped their way through the woodland, crunching on a carpet of crisp leaves and fallen branches, little did they know what awaited them at the lake. The damp autumn air clung to their bodies, sticking clothes to clammy skin.

Jack, the youngest and newest member of the group, huffed as he shifted a plastic bag filled with cans of cheap beer from one hand to the other. He wiped his now free hand on his tshirt, soothing out the red line etched into his palm. The alcohol had been his entry into the group of tight knit friends, each of whom held a place at the top of the popularity and danger rankings at school. They had been an unbreakable group friends since starting secondary school, and very rarely let others join them in the inner ranks. Jack knew that at any minute his position in the group could change, as quick as the boys' moods.

"Hurry it up, fatty," shouted Razor, the skinniest and angriest of the group. No one knew where he got the nickname from, despite numerous rumours and whispers that circulated through the school. But the rumours alone were enough to shut anyone up when he passed, without the permanent scowl painted on his face that pulled his thick eyebrows deep into his face.

Shaun and Liam laughed. Their rough barks echoed up into the canopy of trees. Shaun turned and eyeballed Jack, "You're in charge of the most important part of the night, so tread carefully Jacky. They say the forest watches you."

"Who says?" Liam spun around, searching the trees. His tiny eyes bugged out as if he might spot the trees watching.

"People say," Shaun said. "That's who."

"Like who?" Liam asked.

"Like...people. Just shut up will you." Shaun punched Liam's arm with a meaty fist and ran off to catch up with Razor. Liam rubbed his arm, shrugged at Jack and started running too.

Jack sighed. It was okay for the others. They weren't carrying a plastic bag filled with twenty four cans of beer, the weight pulling him down like a strong ocean current. He took a deep breath before starting a shambling jog through the woods. He almost slipped on a pile of wet leaves, only catching himself by grabbing onto a nearby tree and grazing his already sore palm on the rough bark. He quickly pulled himself back up and carried on. It had taken weeks of careful planning to get invited on tonight's camp out, starting with after school detentions with the boys and the lure of free alcohol at parties they were going to. No one else at school could believe his recent inclusion in the group and he wasn't going to jeopardise the opportunity of a night of dangerous adventures because he was too slow to keep up. Without the other boys, who made regular trips up to the lake, Jack would never be able to find his way through the woods, where every tree looked identical and there was no proper path to follow.

Jack followed the stomping strides of Razor and the quick bouncing steps of Shaun and Liam until the gentle background noise of birdsong quietened. Beyond the swaying limbs of oak and pine trees stretched a sandy shoreline dotted with driftwood and beyond, the dark depths of the lake. It's grey waters extended far into the distance and was surrounded on all sides by a smudged line of trees. Jack shivered. There was an eerie quality to the lake, like it was alive and waiting. Waiting for something to happen.