My Best Literary Work
The Lake by Vinay Senthil
Everything was quiet in the forest. Although a misty fog had rolled in the early hours of the morning, the sky was full of streaks of clouds in the strata high above, and the air was tense with an eerie stillness. Suddenly, a shrill scream shattered the peaceful atmosphere. A door slammed shut. Twigs and dried leaves crackled like firecrackers as a man jumped off a porch and crashed clumsily through the forest. The man ran blindly, pushing off trees, trying to run a away from something.
As the man burst out into a clearing, his foot caught a log and he tumbled down the bank. The man slid face first down the slope and laid there, wanting it to be the end. But it wasn’t time. A cool hand glided past the fresh cut on his face and down his chest. Cold waves lapped him back to his senses. Confused, he looked up. The lake. It was closer than he remembered. The man groaned as he pushed himself up. He dragged his feet in the water as he brought himself to his knees. The water was so clear that he could see his reflection: A blurry disheveled man in his late twenties wearing a previously white collared shirt that was now ruined with splotches of red and matched his bloodshot eyes. He tried to wash his hands of the blood but it wouldn’t leave like a permanent reminder of the past.
He looked left and saw the pier where he and his father had gone fishing when he was a young boy. The man walked to the edge of the pier and sat down with his legs hanging in the refreshing water. The light breeze surfed over the water and glided through his hair. He pulled out a sheathed knife that was dripping in blood from his pocket and flung it as hard as he could into the the lake - its purpose served. But for some reason its weight still remained. The sounds of the splash faded into the trees that surrounded the lake. Then the ripples smoothed on the water. And then, after a long while, life returned to the lake. The first hesitant bird's song, minnow's rings, a water snake looking for... something. Some life returned, but not all. For the first time in days he felt peace and calm. He closed his eyes and the memories rushed in.
Just two days ago, he was having the best time of his life with his newly wedded wife. He had taken her to his summer home in the mountains for a vacation. She was so good, so perfect. Then why? That was the void that was poisoning his soul and driving him to insanity. “Why did she do this to me!”, he screamed silently. “No, it wasn’t her fault. It was me”, he thought. A stinging flashback replayed in his head - he had said he would be out for the night drinking with friends but had come home before dawn, earlier than usual, and found another man making love with his wife. His rage and the feeling of betrayal fueled the next few moments and then it was over… She had begged him to stop but he couldn’t. Who could blame him? He sat there sullenly wondering if things could have been different. What if this wasn’t the first time? What if…? He shook his head. Life is too short to ponder about these dilemmas and hindsight makes everything look simple.
A sunrise peeked its glowing head over the distant horizon of the lake. Its warm rays hit the man's face like rejuvenating arrows. All he could see was the bright orange sky and the wispy, cotton clouds below him, and for one brief moment he forgot what he had done and felt as though he was rocketing upwards into this beautiful sky.
He leaned back and let out a deep sigh, his warm breath condensed in the chill air like a dragon. He smiled, forgetting the moments of the morning. Somewhere in the hills behind him, he could hear sirens growing gradually louder. His wife probably called the cops. The smile quickly warped into his previous mask of hopelessness. His break from reality was over. The man trudged back up the shore of the lake. Before entering the forest, he looked back and took in his last look at the beautiful lake before disappearing into the shadows.
This essay was really fun to write because there was no set writing. As a creative writing exercise, Ms. Harlin told us that we could write about any topic. I chose the one about writing about a murder scene. It was a genre that I've never tackled before and it was really cool to make a story rather than an essay.