Golden Lake Ghosts

Sexton, Delaware is a nice place to live. People here are courteous and everything you need is within walking or biking distance. But, like every small town in America, Sexton has its myths and legends. This legend pertains to Golden Lake, but it’s no myth.

Golden Lake used to be a normal body of water until the mid-80s. From what I heard, some psychopath killed a couple of teenage girls and dumped them into the water. Eventually, the killer was caught and died in jail, but the bodies were never found even though the lake had been drained. Now the lake is haunted. You can feel something’s wrong with it whether or not you believe it is. There aren’t any fish in the lake, nor do birds or frogs go into the water. The only thing that seems to thrive in Golden Lake is the blood-sucking mosquitoes.

When I first moved to Sexton I thought the view I had of the lake from my backyard was beautiful. Now it creeps me out. Many strange experiences keep me from getting too close to the water’s edge. For instance, I went to stand by the edge of the lake one nice day and couldn’t see my reflection. Although a bit weird, that wasn’t the most terrifying experience. The next time I got close to the water’s edge a hand broke the surface and grabbed my ankle. If my dog, Snowball, hadn’t been there to bite the hand and chase it off I probably would’ve been pulled into the murky depths. Because of this incident Snowball sleeps in the house. I haven’t told anyone about my experiences lest they think I’m nuts, and moving would be too costly for me, unfortunately.

I didn’t find out about Golden Lake’s history until I started having nightmares. Sometimes I would dream about being a predator that stalks two girls and eventually kills them. On other nights I would dream that the two girls would be pursuing me with the intent of killing me in inconceivable ways. Eventually, the dreams got worse. My last nightmare started out like a wet dream. In the dream I was being seduced by a beautiful young woman with black hair, pale skin, and green eyes. Although I couldn’t begin to guess why, this woman seemed to be intensely interested, even obsessed, with me. Naturally, I took her home to see just how “into” me she was. After some kissing and heavy petting, the strange woman walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I was right behind her, eager to get undressed and “bathe.” When we both got into the shower the dark haired woman held on to me tightly, even desperately, as the water seemed to rise beyond its usual limit. As the water began to come up past my neck my dream-self tried to struggle free, but the woman had a grip like a vice.

Before I could drown I woke up in my bed coughing up water.

For the rest of the night I stayed up with my dog watching infomercials in my living room. I was way too freaked out to go to work in the morning. My sanity was gone, and if I didn’t take any extreme action I’d lose my life as well. As I sipped at the seventh cup of black coffee that I had brewed a plan started to form in my head. It was twisted, and I wasn’t sure if it would work.

After researching Golden Lake and Sexton on the Internet, my first urge was to visit a local psychic. I thought that maybe someone in touch with the spirit realm could offer some help for a man in my predicament. Normally, I thought psychics were all bullshit, but after dealing with the supernatural firsthand I was keeping my options open. As soon as I walked through the door an old Russian lady greeted me. I assumed she was the psychic since she had the stereotypical look of one and she was the only person in the establishment. I didn’t tell her anything, just asked for a reading. She claimed she would contact the spirit realm and grabbed my hand. Her eyes closed as she focused, but they quickly shot open as some disturbing revelation came to her.

“Your life is in grave danger,” she said. “Two women are trying to kill you because you are the reincarnation of a man they hate.”

“What can I do,” I asked.

“Die,” she whispered.

Needless to say, I left without paying the b***h.

* * *

Once again, I found myself consulting the World Wide Web for answers. This time I was doing so at the local library instead of home. I began Googling the word “exorcism.” Everything I came upon seemed to require a witchdoctor, priest, or someone mystical or ordained to get rid of evil spirits. Well, in America witchdoctors weren’t usually on hand. I was leery of going to a priest because I doubted someone who may be molesting boys would have any power from God to dismiss any spirit. Then I got an idea. Back at Google.com I typed in “get ordained for free.” I clicked on the first result and began to browse through the website. After filling in a few information boxes I was an ordained minister. Now I could perform exorcisms and make my own holy water.

I went to the local grocery store and bought a six pack of bottled water. Then I went by a Christian book store and picked up a book on holy symbols. Since I didn’t care about denomination, I would look up and print out holy symbols for non-Christian faiths as well. I planned to bless the water and cover my walls with these images in hopes of having some protection. Reluctantly, I went home to prepare for these evil spirits. My dog and I went from room to room ghost-proofing the house. Snowball kept guard while I drew on the walls and splashed holy water on the door and window frames. These things had didn’t just attack me in my dreams, they did it in broad daylight as well, so I couldn’t be too careful.

As if triggered by my thoughts Snowball began to give a low growl. His once perked ears were flattened against his head. My own inner alarm was going off. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a chill ran down my spine. Even though my air conditioning was off the house seemed to get colder. I guess it was too much to ask for a knock or a ring of the doorbell from either of these girls, but either way I had unwelcome guests. A lot of the studies I’d done said that ghost usually stop bothering people once they confront them. Even though the coward in me said to run far away, I chose to confront these monsters head-on. I opened the door and was greeted by a knife whizzing past my face and into the wall next to me. I almost s**t myself, and Snowball gave a yelp, but he didn’t back down. Although the thought didn’t cross my mind at the time, I think of him as a courageous version of Scooby-Doo.

“You’re not welcome here,” I said. “And I refuse to let you kill me.”

The house began to shake and random objects began to fly around the room as if affected by a small tornado. Snowball barked at any object that came too close for comfort. A piece of paper darted by and cut my cheek, then a spoon hit my dog. In the middle of this supernatural cyclone a girl materialized. Jet black hair spilled from her head, her eyes glowed red, and water dripped from her fingertips. Her skin was pale. If she didn’t look so demonic she might’ve been hot. If I wasn’t scared to death I would’ve asked for her phone number. What is the area code in Hell?

At last, my dog seemed to lose his nerve. Snowball backed up into the room we had come out of with his tail tucked between his legs. I was frozen in fear and hypnotized by the specter in front of me. Slowly she walked towards me, perhaps savoring the moment or just being dramatic. Evil intent guided each of her steps. When she got close enough, she grabbed my neck with her cold, clammy hands. As she began to squeeze the dead girl smiled. I could see blackened teeth rotted by years of watery decay. Her breath smelled like a sewer. A deep, unearthly laugh escaped her lips as she forced me to the floor and straddled me while increasing her grip on my throat. Her hair spilled into my face, and lake water dripped into my eyes. Mentally I prepared myself for death.

My vision began to fade just as Snowball pounced on the ghost. She let go of me and rolled away to turn her attention to the dog. The distraction gave me time to catch my breath and search for the bottle of holy water I had dropped. Meanwhile, Snowball had a vice grip on the undead girl’s arm. I unscrewed the cap from the bottle and threw it aside. Then I splashed holy water into the ghost’s face. It sizzled on contact. I only thought that happened with vampires, but here this phantasm was, screaming in pain. While she writhed in pain I took the opportunity to wrestle her to the ground.

“How come we couldn’t just talk about this,” I asked before pouring the rest of the bottle’s contents into her face. All the floating objects fell to the floor as the defeated spirit melted underneath me. I myself collapsed from exhaustion. Snowball appeared drained by the encounter as well.

Then something horrible occurred to me. I turned to the dog. “Wasn’t there another ghost?”

In answer to my question something upstairs crashed. Looks like I’d have to go another round with the supernatural…