Scary Story Time
Welcome to the Scary Story Time, the scary stories written about a town called Sandcastle. Tonight’s episode we learn about the lady of the lake. No, this isn’t your typical English Sword in the Stone story. This witch is far eviler than the Ruler of Avalon.
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Now let’s begin…
The Lady of the Lake
September 21, 1974
The fog had receded back into to the bay, which was a good thing for Donald Schuster. He was finally taking his vacation from the butcher shop–a much-needed vacation. He opened the shop in 1965 and hadn’t taken any time off since. Every day he butchered animals that people brought in from the hunt or cattle and sheep from the ranches in Valley Ford and other nearby coastal towns. It was good for business as the grocery stores were always asking for his meat and the local shoppers did too.
He was so busy taking care of other people’s prey, he never had any of his own. This weekend would be different. Although he might be a little rusty at hunting, he was sure no one else would be out in the woods outside of town as most people were working. That is when he loved to take hunt–when other people had to work. All he had to do was rely on his assistant butcher, George Statton, to fill in for him while he was gone. The weekend should be slow as other hunters were busy and the farms were focusing on harvests instead of meat.
“You have to remember to cut it just right for certain customers. Keep them happy,” he told George. There was something about the glint in George’s eyes that told him that he had nothing to worry about. That kid, although only around 20, was made for success. He was sure he would have no problems at all.
“Where you going huntin’ at, Boss?” George stopped sharpening the knives, a bit of concern in his eyes.
“Over by Bushy Creek, near the old Harvester Rock,” Donald said as he grabbed some jerky and soda from the refrigerator. “I hear the trout are always biting in the lake over there and people haven’t been hunting much lately so the deer are everywhere.”
A bit of blood splattered on George’s face as he brought down the cleaver on a skinned deer. “Yeah ’cause that girl got killed. Torn up by a wild animal they say.”
“I ain’t scared of no wild animal, George and, careful now. I’m leaving you here to tend to my shop. Make sure you’re not cutting in the wrong places and you drain them of blood first.”
“Oh yeah, sorry Boss. I forgot to do it with this one.”
Donald shook his head, “Too late. it’s probably already settled in most places. We can refund the customer and make dog food with it. Never leave any meat from an animal wasted. Got that?”
“Yes, sir!” George was ambitious, that Don knew. He also figured that his apprentice probably wouldn’t stay in the business for too long. He’d have to train another kid because his daughter Debra wanted nothing to do with killing animals. His wife gave him one child. Just one. And of course, it had to be a girl who would have nothing to do with the business. She claimed her job was far too important to be a mother of more than one kid. Donald knew what she really meant: to have anything to do with serving a man and his family. Why he fell in love with an independent feminist he had no idea and now he regretted every minute of it.
Confident that George now in charge, Don left the shop with his jerky that he prepared the night before and some spices. He knew that he would catch some trout or even a deer so he didn’t bother with any other food. Soon he was on the road in his old white pickup headed out to the woods.
***
Donald didn’t put up a tent, he slept the back of his truck covered by a camper shell. He knew the dangers of the forest and the annoying critters who would dig into your trash and coolers. Every time he ever went camping something would get into the chest whether it be a raccoon or a bear. This year he was bound to have fish from the lake and stream and that would make a great calling for a bear or any other hungry wild animal. Everything, no matter how smelly, was going to be stored in the cab while he slept in the back in his camper safely hidden from the skunks and the wolves.
He strolled out to the river and the clearing to make sure everything was good. Then he grabbed a couple of lawn chairs from his truck and set up a campfire near the lake. Soon, the fire was roaring while he cast his line and sat back in the chair nursing on a beer. It wasn’t long before the first bite hit and he fought a pretty big trout. Reeling it in was a fight, but he tossed it in the ice chest full of lake water and brought it over to this old stump he noticed sitting by the fire.
Funny, he didn’t notice the stump before, but it looked perfect. He looked closer as he noticed the blood stains on the wood and figured it was just from another hunter. He tried washing off the stain with some lake water and a rag, but it wouldn’t clean off and must have been too deep to remove. Well, he shrugged, at least he washed off any dirt and bugs that might have been on the top of the stump.
Soon, he was scaling and filleting his catch. He tossed the fish head back into the water for the other fish to eat and then grilled the meat over the open fire. As the smell of lemon, pepper, garlic, and fish filled the air, his stomach roared with excitement. It had been a long time since he tasted a fresh catch and it felt good to be out here without the old ball and chain and his whiney daughter.
What was up with that kid, anyway? She didn’t like the way he looked at her. So she looked a lot like her mother when Angie was young. Angie was a fox! He enjoyed way her breasts filled out her shirts and the curve of her always too short shorts. Her clothes both excited and angered him. No man should ever look at his little girl like they do, but she invites them with her slutty clothes and the way she flirts and walks. Shaking that ass all over the place just like her mother.
Her mother was another story. That woman always tempting men to smile and flirt. She was always nice to them, but when she got home the nagging started right away. That woman never shuts up! And he provided a good life for them, but they were always wanting more! Every day he broke his back cutting up meat for people and what does he get when he gets home? Some stupid casserole of the week from dumb chick magazine and jello with carrots in it. Who puts carrots in jello? He wanted a man’s meal. Steak. Roast. Potatoes. Gravy. Something worthy of a real man! What did he have to do to show the bitch he was the head of the household and he deserved better! He didn’t care if she had some so-called important job at the school district. The schools were shit and they paid shit! He should have been making way more than her, but his business costs took up most of his money and she spent it at Sears and Pennys like they were going out of style.
“Bitch!” he spat into the fire and started to eat his fish. Damn it was delicious. Better than the old lady ever made.
“She’s no good for you,” he heard a voice whisper in the wind.
“What?” Donald jumped up, dropping his unfinished meal all over the dirt.
“Look what you made me do! Who is that?”
The water began to make waves toward him as he watched the center of the ripple, expecting a huge fish to jump out. Instead, a woman slowly rose from the waves and began to walk across the lake toward him. Donald squeezed his eyelids hard then looked again. There she was, right in front of him on the edge of the water. She was beautiful. More striking than any woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was wearing a sheer white dress that looked more like a nightgown from the late 1800s. The cloth was wet and sticking to her body where he could see every curve.
Donald dropped his beer and stood up right in front of her. His hand shook as he reached out to touch the pearly white skin. Her body was cold and he shivered at the mere touch from his fingertips. Her long chestnut hair wrapped around his wrist like a snake and pulled him closer. He was trembling at the coldness of her body but he couldn’t stop himself from touching her.
She laughed as he cupped her breast as she put her lips upon his. Soon, he felt something warm and wet slither into his mouth from hers. He thought it was her tongue until it reached his throat. Before he could pull away, it went down his esophagus and into his stomach. Then another, and another moved from her mouth to his until the last one made him wretch. He pulled away, coughing, then spit up a slithery black worm about the size of a long middle finger from his lips. It wriggled and hissed just like the ones in his stomach were doing, he was sure of it. Donald bent over and shoved his fingers in his throat to try and vomit, but as he spewed and coughed, nothing came out but blood.
“What the hell are you?” he cried out, smashing the worm on the ground with his foot.
“I am all that you are, Donald. I am the lake, the trees, the wind, and the Earth. I am the ashes of the people and animals who died here and the souls of the people who tried to escape.”
“Escape what?” he managed to blurt out while wretching out pieces of worms and blood.
“The massacre of many. The hate, the anger. Evil lives here and it lives within me. I sought you out because I could feel the hate inside of you, Donald.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t fool yourself. The hate toward your wife and your customers. Even your daughter. You feel their contempt for you in their company. You know they talk about you when your back is turned. The words they use are hideous and you know it. They hate you, Donald.” the woman’s sheer clothing dissipated and black worms began crawling from the pores of her skin. They slivered all around her body and in and out of her nose, eyes, and mouth as she smiled.
He felt her cold hands on his cheeks as she forced him to look at her. “I haven’t had a strong life here in a very long time, Donald. I need life to live.” she stopped and then ran her cold fingertips over his cheeks and into his hair. “You’re hungry, you dropped your fish and you’ll need more food but you forgot your ax and gun for the hunt. There will be deer here later tonight. Go home and get an ax. Bring your wife back with you. I want to meet her.”
He could read her mind and knew what she wanted. She needed a sacrifice to survive and his wife was a perfect choice. No more nagging or horrible meals. He could work as he chose without her control. As he agreed, he felt the worms swarming around his spine and brain. They brought him comfort somehow. Maybe a drug or toxin, he didn’t know which. He didn’t care. Suddenly all he cared about was pleasing this witch. He snickered as he thought about his wife in the woods and how she’ll complain about everything. She’s always bitching and never shut up. The stupid townspeople of Sandcastle love her too, always talking about how wonderful the bitch is when they come in for their meat. He’ll give them meat and it will shut that old nag up forever.
A huge smile spread across his face when he thought about his customers. Oh, they’ll still love her all right. They’ll love her so much they’ll talk about her for years to come. Then he’ll have that little wench of a daughter all to himself to raise. What a prize. What a beautiful prize.
His stomach ached with the wriggling of whatever those slimy worms were and he felt them slithering out of his mouth and into his nose and eyes. “Yes,” Donald hissed. “I must rid the world of the one who gossips the most. My wife.”
He limped over to his old truck and tossed the ice chest and beer out into the dirt not even caring that the beer bottles clashed against each other and cracked open, spilling the alcohol all over the ground. Before tonight he would have screamed at the idea and blamed that bitch of a wife, but tonight he snickered and drove to town.
***
He laughed from the moment he left the lake until he reached the driveway. Quietly, he opened the passenger door to his truck then found his ax inside the door of the garage and put it in the back of the camper. Donald smiled when he noticed the sedative that he used once on the dog when he had to pull porcupine quills for the animal. Just enough will knock her out until I’m ready for the bitch to wake up. Quietly, he put it into his pocket and proceeded to enter his home.
“I thought you were camping?” were the first words out of Angela’s mouth when he entered. He didn’t expect her to be awake at this time of night.
“I forgot some supplies and needed a drink. There was an old bear that scared the hell of out of me. Needed to calm my nerves.” he could have slapped himself for saying something so unmanly, but it worked. He poured a shot of whiskey into a tumbler then squeezed the drug into the glass. “Want one?”
“Sure, I’ll take that,” she smirked as she took the glass from his hand. He knew she would grab the first one as she always had to be first.
They both sipped at their whiskey while he stood by the doorway, ready to take off.
“Where’s Debra?” he said with the whiskey dribbling off his beard.
“At a friend’s house. What she usually does when you’re not home. You’re so protective of her that she leaves as often as she can.”
“Don’t do this now,” Donald said as he downed the rest of the drink.
Angela started to say something but then yawned and shook her head as her eyelids dropped. She sunk down on to the couch and fell fast asleep. Donald checked her pulse and then dropped her into a sleeping bag and carried her to the truck where he pushed her into the opened passenger door and slammed it shut. She would be out for the rest of the trip and when Debra got home, she would have no idea where her mother went to.
***
Once at the campsite, Donald knew exactly what to do. Angela would be out for at least another few hours. He left her in the truck sleeping and unscrewed the locks so she couldn’t get out if she awoke. Even if she honked the horn, no one would hear her. As she slept peacefully, he grabbed the ax from the back of the truck and removed the fishing wire from his rod and set it aside. Then he put the stump near the lake where he was infected by the lady of the lake.
That was quite a different tale than his mother told him. She read from the old fairytale books from when he was a little boy until his father came in and forced her to stop. “Good women should be cooking for you, not reading to you,” he would grab the book from her hands and toss it across the room. Donald hated his father for the abuse, but felt the same anger that vibrated from his dad’s words.
“Kill the bitch,” a familiar voice rose from the lake.
The worms in his body danced and wriggled as he watched his father walk across the water and to the stump. Do it, right here.
Donald obeyed just like he always followed his father’s word. He was no longer excited, but scared. The sweat dripped from his brow as he hoisted Angela out of the truck and over his shoulder. He laid her on the ground and slipped off the sleeping bag. With the fishing wire, he bound her legs and then placed her head on the stump. Her hands were tied behind her back yet she just snoozed away. Maybe he gave her too much. Hopefully not, he wanted to see her scream as she died and he had to do it before sunrise.
He looked over toward the lake but his father was gone and replaced by the lake lady. She floated about 3 feet above the ground, towering over the couple and smiling.
“Awaken,” she whispered.
Soon Angela was trying to squirm out of the fishing wire, but it was much too tight. She screamed until Donald put the dirty rag he cleaned off the stump with into her mouth. The bugs on it crawled across her face and into her hair trying to get out of the light. She squirmed more while the hatred in her eyes stabbed at Don.
“Good,” the Lady cooed. “I feed from your fear and anger.”
Angela tried to scream as she watched the black worms crawl out of the Lady’s mouth and down her body to her toes where they slivered to Angela and into one eye and out of the other. Donald stood between them tapping the ax in his hand and smirking at his wife. The worms made their way up his pant leg the out from his shirt and into his mouth then out of his eyes. On exit, they found their master’s feet again and slithered back between her lips.
Donald pulled the rag from Angela’s mouth as she screamed and begged him to stop. He smiled, worms dripping from his teeth as he swung the ax down harder than he ever had before. With one swipe her neck was broken and her head hung only by the skin on the other side.
“Good,” laughed the Lady. “She’s infected. I want you to do what you do best. Be creative. People are hungry and they must not know what happened.”
***
The next day Donald came running into the police department screaming.
“Calm down, Don. What’s the problem?” Officer Tony Bishop dressed in street uniform said as he offered Don a seat.
“We was camping by the lake and my wife said she had to pee so she went into the woods and I didn’t see her again. I waited all night and searched for her myself but she’s gone, officer.”
Donald filled out the forms of what happened while Officer Bishop set up a search party for that afternoon. The butcher offered to cook for them with meat from his butcher shop and stayed put serving the food while they searched–just in case she showed up. He wanted to be right there he told Tony. It was agreed upon and Donald brought back the biggest pot of homemade chili for the search parties along with beer, soda, and bread.
“This is delicious,” George Statton said as he scooped the last bit of chili from his bowl and followed with a sip of beer.
“Be careful there, George, there are plenty of cops here and you’re not 21 yet.” Donald tapped his beer against George’s in a cheer.
“What do you think happened to Angie, Donald? This is crazy!”
“I don’t know son, but luckily we caught that deer last night so I could make this chili today for everyone helping out. It’s really appreciated.”
“But you didn’t have the time to bleed it out,” George scoffed, remembering the tongue lashing he had earlier.
“You liked it didn’t you?”
“Yeah, it tasted mighty fine. Best chili I’ve ever had. People are going to be talking about this recipe for decades.”
“Good.” Donald turned around and smiled, his eyes filling with the blackness from the lake then he laughed. “Angela always did make a great chili.”
***
Hey it’s Spooky Boo. Did you like the story tonight? I bet you won’t be looking at chili the same way for a while now. Remember, Every week I bring a new chapter to the wicked tales of this mysterious place called Sandcastle.
Be sure to read the older chapters as well. The tales of Sandcastle aren’t in sequential order. You’ll find stories of the creepy town all over this website and in the category of Spooky Boo Originals.
Want to chat? Visit us on YouTube every Friday night at 10 PM Pacific Time to chat about the story while listening. You can also come and have fun when I watch Creature Features on Saturday nights at 10:00 PM Pacific. I love watching that show and never miss an episode watching Vincent van Dahl, Tangella, and Mr. Livingston.
Stay tuned for more scary stories by subscribing to the podcast or here on the website.
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