I remember the first time my parents took me to Michigan. We were visiting family, and it was a long drive from Georgia. It was just before my fifth birthday, and we were going to celebrate it with all of my cousins, my grandparents, and my aunts and uncles. I was nervous. I hadn’t seen any of my aunts or uncles or their kids since I was born, and I certainly didn’t remember them. The car ride was uneventful, and I think I slept most of the way. When we got to where we were staying, the family cabin near Traverse City, I was introduced to everyone. My cousin Claire was very friendly, and my parents put me in her care for the week as they hung out with the rest of the family. She was around twelve at the time, and she seemed to enjoy my company as much as I enjoyed hers. During my time there, I followed her around wherever she went. She had two older brothers, Mike and Charlie. Mike was almost eighteen, and had his own car, and Charlie was sixteen and liked to drive Mike’s car. The first night I spent there, Mike, Charlie, Claire and I were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace as my parents, Uncle Matt, and Aunt Elise sat at the dining room drinking and talking. They weren’t paying attention to us, so Mike decided to tell us a story. He leaned in close and we listened intently as he told us about the lake.
Pheasant Lake was only a couple miles from our cabin, and he’d driven there a few times with friends. One night, he and his friends went up to it to hang out. They were sitting on the beach, watching the waves, when Mike’s friend, Sean said he saw something in the water. Sean’s girlfriend Gabby just laughed it off, but Sean looked scared. Mike knew his friend wasn’t just trying to scare them, and so he and Sean stayed back on the beach while the others went swimming. A few weeks later, they went back after sunset again. Mike had mostly forgotten about the thing in the water, but Sean still refused to swim.
“Come on, man,” his friends urged, but Sean stayed on the beach. Mike went into the water with the rest of them, but he felt kind of uneasy about it. The whole time, he felt like something was watching them. But his girlfriend Jess was there, and he brushed away his feelings. When they get back to the beach, Sean was gone. The next day he said he’d gone one early because he wasn’t feeling good, but when Mike asked him about it, he confided that he’d seen something in the water again, watching them as they swam. After that, Sean refused to go back to the lake. Mike and his friends tried getting him to go with them, but Sean didn’t want to. Because Sean was one of Mike’s closest friends, Mike stopped going too.
One day, Mike and his friends were hanging out at the library after school, when Jess brought up Pheasant Lake. Sean didn’t want to talk about it, but they were all a little curious and did some digging. Back in the 1800s, there was a small settlement near the lake. It was only a couple dozen people, just some hunters and their wives and kids. They made a living trapping the beavers, foxes, and otters along the lake and selling the furs to traders who moved through the area. One day, two of the men went out to the lake together, but only one, named Louis, came back. The next day, Louis an another man went out to the lake, and again only Louis came back. The day after that, the same thing happened. After the third day, the rest of the settlers decided something had to be done, so the rest of the men gathered outside his house and demanded he confess to killing the men. Instead, Louis and his family fled to the lake where they were never seen again. The rest of the settlement slowly disappeared after that, until all of them were gone without a trace. The thing Sean had seen out in the water was the ghost of Louis, waiting for more victims.
“That’s ridiculous,” Charlie said, ending Mike’s story.
“It’s true,” Mike insisted. “We’ll go out there tomorrow and you’ll see.”
The next day it rained all day, and we were stuck inside the cabin. Claire and I were playing with some dolls my grandma had brought for us, and the boys were listening to the radio as the adults sat at the dining room table. Mike was talking about Pheasant Lake again when Uncle Matt interrupted him.
“You’re not telling ghost stories again, are you?” Uncle Matt asked.
“No, sir,” Mike answered.
“Good. They’re a bunch of nonsense.” Uncle Matt turned back towards the table.
Mike looked a little annoyed, but he didn’t mention the lake again.
The next day was a Sunday, and Grandma insisted on all of us driving to church together. It was stuffy in the sanctuary, and as soon as service was over we retreated to the basement to cool down a little. There was a small table setup with refreshments one one side of the room, and we made our way over to grab some drinks. Mike was pouring lemonade for me when he said to Claire, Charlie, and I, “Let’s go to Pheasant Lake tomorrow.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that, son,” the pastor said, overhearing our conversation.
“Why not?” Mike asked.
“It’s dangerous there. Not a good place for kids to hang out,” the pastor replied.
“Because of the ghosts?” I asked. Mike and Charlie laughed.
“No, because of the pollution,” the pastor responded. “There was a chemical spill near there a few years ago and I don’t think anyone ever came around to clean it up.”
Mike made a face at that. “I didn’t hear about that,” he said.
“Well, it barely made local papers,” the pastor said. “I’m just letting you kids know, you shouldn’t go there.” He turned and left to talk to the other churchgoers, leaving us alone at the table.
“I still think we should go,” Mike said. He looked resolute on the matter.
“No way,” Claire said. “Mom and Dad will be mad.”
“The grownups are going out tomorrow to buy the party supplies, we’ll be back before they are,” Mike replied. “Come on, don’t be a sissy.”
Claire sighed. “Fine.”
“Sure,” Charlie chimed in. “We’ll see if there really are ghosts.”
We woke up early the next day, on;y to find that our parents and grandparents were gone already. A note sat on the table. Going out shopping. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are in the fridge. We’ll be back before bedtime. It was signed by Aunt Elise. We grabbed the waffles she’d left us and hopped in Mike’s car, eager to set out and get back before the parents. It was a short drive. I hadn’t finished my food before we arrived, and we ate as we hid the car and hiked towards the beach. It was cloudy out, and the water was a little choppy. None of us saw anything, though.
“I told you there was no such thing as ghosts,” Charlie jeered.
“Come on, it’s only been a minute,” Mike replied.
“How long do we have to wait?” Claire asked. She shivered slightly. The wind was picking up a little, and it was getting cooler out.
“Just wait,” Mike said impatiently.
We stood on the beach and stared at the lake, but we still didn’t see anything.
“I’m going to make a sandcastle,” Claire said after a while. “Come on.” She took my hand and we went away from the boys and started building.
“I’m going swimming,” Charlie said.
“Good luck,” Mike teased. ”Don’t let anything get you.”
Charlie just shook his head and walked away. He tossed his shirt off into the sand and waded into the lake until he disappeared under the waves. Claire and I kept building ours and castle. Mike sat on the beach away from us, reading a book he’d found in his car and texting his friends. It was a couple hours later when we realized Charlie was still out there.
“Where’s Charlie?” Claire asked.
“He isn’t back yet?” Mike asked.
Claire shook her head. “I didn’t see him.” She looked out at the lake.
“Charlie!” Mike called. There was no response.
“Charlie!” Claire yelled. Still no response.
“Are you sure he’s not back at the car or something?” Mike asked.
“His shirt is still there,” Claire replied, pointing at the shirt in the sand.
“Damn,” Mike said. “I’m going to go that way,” he pointed to his right, “and see if he’s over there somewhere. You check that way.” He pointed to his left.
“Stay here,” Claire said to me, and went off. Mike went the opposite direction.
I had clambered to my feet as Claire had left, and now I was all alone. As I stood on the beach and looked out at the water, I thought I saw something moving in the waves. A dark shadow lay just underneath the surface. I watched as a pale hand came up to touch the air for just a second, and then it was gone again. I blinked, and it was gone again. I could hear Claire and Mike calling Charlie’s name in the distance. I wanted to run to one of them, but. I was frozen on the spot. It was back again a second later, something moving in the water. I hoped it wasn’t Charlie, but I couldn’t see it well enough. The wind picked up, drowning out Claire and Mike’s voices. Rain began to fall from the heavy clouds overhead. I began to shiver as I watched the water. The dark shadow moved along the shoreline, too far away for me to see it clearly, but close enough that I was terrified. The pale hand reached up again, its fingers uncurling as they poked above the surface. I wanted to cry. Soon, another shadowy figure joined it, and another hand reached up from beneath the water. The second hand had seaweed wrapped around one of its fingers. I couldn’t see or hear Claire or Mike anymore. I stood on the beach, cold and scared, rooted to the spot where my cousins had left me. It felt like an eternity had passed before the shadows disappeared again, and I heard my cousins’ footsteps running towards me. I turned and saw Mike and Claire were back.
“Any sign of him?” Mike asked Claire.
“Not that way,” Claire replied. Mike swore, and Claire looked worried. “You didn’t see him out that way?”
“No,” Mike sighed. He ran his hand through his hair. He looked annoyed. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Do you think he could’ve made it to the other side?” Claire looked out at the lake, squinting at the opposite shoreline through the rain.
“I don’t think so, but we can check.” Mike grabbed Charlie’s shirt and his book, and we all went back to the car and got in.
As we drove around the lake, Claire watched for any signs of her brother. At times we could see the lake, and I kept hoping to see Charlie there. At one point I thought I saw those shadowy figures again, but then a tree blocked my view and I lost sight of them. It was growing darker and darker as the storm moved in on us, and the wind howled as rain lashed the car. Soon we could barely see the dirt road ahead of us. We reached the other shore as thunder began to crackle overhead.Mike and Claire jumped out of the car and I followed. I didn’t want to be left alone, even if it meant being out in the rain.
“Get back in the car,” Mike commanded. I shook my head and grabbed his hand.
“Charlie!” Claire shouted through the rain.
A sudden bolt of lightning illuminated the lake, and we all looked out to see a pale hand sink beneath the waves. “Was that Charlie?” Mike asked.
“I hope not,” Claire whispered in a shaky voice.
We walked up and down the beach, shouting Charlie’s name and trying to listen for a response over the rain and thunder. Our hearts pounded in our chests as we heard no response over and over. We’d walked over a mile, and closer to three, before Claire spotted movement in the distance. We breathed a collective sigh of relief as Charlie ran towards us, waving his arms over his head.
“What the hell, man?” Mike shoved Charlie when he got up to us.
“Let’s go back to the cabin,” Charlie said. He refused to say anything beyond that.
We got back to the cabin before our parents, giving us enough time to shower and dry off before they came back. Charlie wouldn’t say much about what had happened, only mumbling about how he’d swam further than he’d thought. He looked a little freaked out about something, and I knew he’d seen the pale hands in the water too. For the rest of the vacation we never mentioned the trip to Pheasant Lake, and Charlie refused to even talk about the lake itself. Our parents never found out either, until years later when Mike brought it up at a Thanksgiving dinner.
“I heard they’re building a hotel out on Pheasant Lake,” he said casually. I looked over at Charlie, who had turned pale.
“That’s nice,” Aunt Elise replied. “Maybe we should all stay there sometime. That might be a good place for the next family reunion.”
“Maybe not,” Charlie said.
“Why not? That old cabin won’t final of us.” Uncle Matt grabbed another piece of turkey and looked at Charlie across the table.
“It’s a weird place,” Charlie mumbled.
“Don’t tell me you believe those stupid stories,” Matt scoffed.
Charlie shrugged. “There’s something weird about it,” he responded, then stuffed a roll in his mouth to avoid further questions.
“What do you think?” Uncle Matt asked me.
“I think it’s a weird place,” I answered. “Weird stuff there.” I looked over at Charlie, who was looking at me. He knew that I knew, and I knew that he knew.
I never went out to that old lake again, and I don’t mention it in front of Charlie. We both know what we saw out there, and we both don’t want to dredge up those memories again. I told Claire once what I’d seen, when we were both tipsy at a family bonfire. She’d laughed at first, until she saw I was serious. After that she stopped mentioning the lake. But at the last family gathering I heard Mike mention it to my kids, and I saw the look in their eyes as they listened. I just pray that if they go there, they don’t go in the water. I saw how fast those hands move. I know my kids could never escape. And I know those things are still out there, waiting for more victims.
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