Glimpses by Rick Hautala

Author:Rick Hautala [Hautala, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 1937128415
Publisher: Dark Regions Press
Published: 2012-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

“Dad?” I called out in a strangled voice.

I raised my head and slowly unfolded my body, looking all around.

I already knew the terrible truth of what had happened.

My father was dead ... gone ... destroyed by that indescribable darkness that had risen out of the lake.

He was gone, and I—somehow … for some reason—I had been left alive.

“I only am escaped alone to tell thee.”

I haven’t got any clear memories of what happened after that. I know from what my Uncle Mike told me afterwards that I managed to drive the car out of the woods. How, I’ll never know. After I got onto the main road, I ran off the shoulder of the road, smack into a tree. A passing patrol car found me unconscious behind the wheel some time later. I told the policeman that my father was missing, and he went back to look for him, but—of course—they never found him. The authorities concluded that he’d gone for a late night swim and had drowned, but his body was never recovered.

I knew different, but I never told anyone—not even the police—what I had seen. I knew no one would ever believe me. They’d think I was crazy, maybe even take me away from my aunt and uncle, and lock me up in a nut house.

For years, I was consumed with grief over losing my father, but more than that—infinitely more—I was filled with the deep, indescribable terror that has filled me ever since that night … even in my dreams.

There’s still so much to tell ... about how my aunt and uncle raised me, and how I tried to deal with what had happened that night. How I tried to believe it hadn’t happened. I’ve never stopped feeling as though my entire life has been a dream, that I am a walking, talking phantom that has no business being here on the earth. I’ve kept this journal and, over the years, have worked and re-worked my description of that night because I think it will help.

But it hasn’t.

Not really.

Ever since that night, I’ve been lost in a surreal feeling that absolutely nothing is real in this life ... nothing except the nameless horror that I saw and felt that night when I watched a dimensionless darkness rise up from the waters of Watcher’s Lake and take my father away from me.

Even now, one small, rational corner of my mind insists it had to have been a dream … that it couldn’t really have happened the way I remember it, but I know what I saw.

And I wonder sometimes ... all the time, in fact, if it’s still out there ... if that nameless darkness really lurks in the depths of Watcher’s Lake ... if Watcher’s Lake is, somehow, a lens that focuses whatever it is from whatever dimension it originates.

For the last several years, I’ve been having some disturbing dreams about what happened back then. I’ve been toying with the idea of driving up to Hilton just to take a look around.

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