It was quite early in the morning, especially considering the one-hour drive that got me there. Dawn had broken at Lake Oolenoy in Table Rock State Park, but most of the lake was still in shadow. I stood on a pier near where Carrick Creek feeds the lake. The morning and the wind were quiet. I looked out across 67 acres of smooth dark waters.
This was 2012; I was still in therapy for PTSD. I had been having lots of bad dreams recently. Anxiety made sleeping difficult, and my tired state sometimes led my normally creative mind to become overly imaginative. Hopefully, a peaceful morning on the lake would calm down my mind and let me sleep more soundly. I had been in the park for about an hour; so far, so good.
I heard what sounded like screams echoing through the trees from the other end of the lake, quite a distance from where I stood. Just then, the rising sun burst through at a big bend in the lake's shape, lighting up water and the front edges of trees at the far end of the lake.
In that sunlit portion I saw some sort of movement in the water, splashes lit up by the bright sunlight. From where I stood, I could not tell what was causing the ruckus. I had a long zoom kit lens on my camera; I held the viewfinder up to my eye and peered in the direction of the noise I had heard.
Even looking through the lens, I could still not see clearly what was causing all the commotion out on the lake in that bright sunlight. I snapped a few photos. Then, I just stood there looking, my overactive imagination coming up with extraordinary possibilities.
Was it just ducks or geese playing or fighting with one another? It seemed bigger than that. My imagination really kicked in. Or ... was it some lake creature, some lake monster, splashing around in the sunlight on that otherwise peaceful morning?
I held my camera up to my eye for one more look. I thought I saw an arm coming out of the water. My imagination went into overdrive. Some lake creature was throwing human body parts around in the water. That's what caused the screaming.
The screaming grew louder, more voices joined in. What the holy hell?
My pulse raced. What do I do now? Is it too late to help these people? I can't swim. I don't even know how to get to that part of the lake. It would have to be a long hike through the woods. Are there even paths to lead me there? It did not occur to me that any path to those sounds would take me right past the Park Ranger station, the most logical source of help.
I had seen several "no swimming" signs at this end of the lake; that must have stopped my conscious mind from considering the most likely scenario: a bunch of folks swimming out on the lake. And the screaming was just kids having fun. That thought finally forced its way into my conscious mind. Sure enough, a calmer look through the lens and I could barely make out several young swimmers frolicking on a sunny morning in early spring. Not a science-fiction tragedy unfolding before my unreliable eyes; just kids doing what kids do on a day at the lake.
I breathed deeply, began to feel more relaxed. I smiled at my foolishness and laughed under my breath. That was enough for one day; time to put down my camera, head back to my car, and drive home.