Everyday, I worked on that little rowboat for two. The trim was painted a light pink with waves carved into the wood itself. The base of the boat was the color of Clementine's eyes. The blue-ish green color reminded me of the lake nearby and of the horrors that swam within its waters, but every stroke of paint and every piece of wood nailed together, became a piece of magic. Everything fit together perfectly. I enjoyed creating masterpieces. Yes, that's what it was; a masterpiece. I had realized why my father created them every year and why he called them what he called them.
Finally, after two months of splinters, bruised fingers, and breathing in wood flakes, I had finished a week before Clem's sixth birthday. She knew it was done. She noticed my smirk whenever she brought it up. She noticed that I stopped going into the workshop as often as I did. It was always hard to keep a secret from Clementine.
When my mother had taken Clem birthday shopping, I hauled the tiny boat to the lake. As the murky water became more visible, I could feel a heavy presence. I stood at the waters edge staring into the water that killed my father. The water that filled into his lungs and murdered him. My throat begun to tense up when I thought of the awful event.
Slowly, I pushed the boat into the water. It floated perfectly. I cautiously climbed into the death trap. It rocked, I froze. When I felt safe I sat down on the tiny bench I had attached. I sat in the boat for a long while as it rested in the shallow water. I watched the cattails sway and dance with the dragonflies nearby. The water sparkled and glared into my eyes. The sky was the bluest I had ever seen. The sun though, it felt cold, unwelcoming, harsh, even though it was bright and looked cheerful sitting there in the sky, it was certainly lying. Everything felt wrong, like there was a dome of uneasiness surrounding the lake. The cattails, the dragonflies, the sun, sky, and water were all testing me. Everything knew what had happened here. They knew the terror he felt as he watched the bubbles from his mouth disappear to the surface. They felt the sorrow of everyone who heard the awful story. They took in the negative energy and whisper it into the ears of those who come to the waters edge. The water hid everything. The waters surface was a disguise for the sick, twisted happenings that occurs below.
I carefully climbed out of the boat. I pulled the gift onto the shore and stared at it for a moment. Even the gift I crated with good intentions, begun to breath in the toxic fumes of the sorrow around me.