Cheat Lake

Yesterday was complete Hell. I’m not going to subject you to all the sordid details, but it involved my roommate, her boyfriend Jim, a chinchilla, and a very angry biology professor. So, in order to recuperate and fend off an approaching bout of insanity, I decided to drive out to my favorite stress relief destination, Cheat Lake. I discovered Cheat Lake’s magical soothing powers about two years ago when I decided to go exploring on a whim. However, last night the lake wasn't so soothing. It was actually kind of horrifying.

I parked off the shoulder of the road on the northeast side of the lake. Only a short stroll through some woods, nothing more than a little leisurely nature walk, would bring me to the water. I began moving through the woods, and tried to identify the types of trees I saw along the way (I had learned about tree types in a bio class the day before and decided to practice...I know, I'm nerdy beyond belief). However, about five minutes into my walk I began to hear strange noises. Initially, I thought they were coming from an animal, possibly a dog. They were low, guttural growls, at first far away, but coming closer. I began to walk faster, because the idea of getting mauled in the woods by Cujo was unappealing, to say the least. All was quiet for the next couple of minutes, but then the growling started again, closer than ever. And this time it was different. This time one of the growls turned in to a high-pitched, eardrum-piercing scream. The scream was especially terrifying, because it didn't sound scared, it sounded angry. Furious, even. At that point, I decided it was time to turn around. I started to sprint back towards my car, tripping and falling over a tree root on the way. How very “every horror movie heroine that ever existed” of me. I got back up and the cold ball of terror that had formed in my chest began to thaw when my car came into view. But when I was only about twenty feet away, my pursuers appeared between me and safety. I froze, only capable of staring in shock and disbelief. Two girls. At least, they used to be girls. They were covered in blood from....well, neck to foot. Because neither of them had heads. Oddly, one of my first thoughts was How are they growling and screaming if they don't have heads?, which was quickly followed by Holy shit, they don't have heads! The girls (ghosts?, zombies?) were approaching me at a steady pace, their hands clenched at their sides. I began to stumble backwards, because I didn't feel comfortable letting them out of my sight. Suddenly, their images flickered, and they reappeared about 5 feet in front of me. I was so startled that I tripped and fell, leaving me stunned and helpless. At this point, I was pretty much resigned to my cruel fate. I was going to die in The Middle of Nowhere, West Virginia, murdered by headless growling ghost-girls. As I was coming to terms with my imminent demise, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. The car was coming fast, and when it sped by the headlights blinded me. When I could see again, the girls had vanished. For a moment, I stayed on the ground and stared at the spot they had previously occupied. Then, my sense of self- preservation kicked in and I scrambled up to race toward my car. Once I was safely inside, I turned on the engine and tried to gain control of my shaking hands, because it would be a shame to die in a car wreck after escaping decapitated ghosts. By the time I finally got back to my apartment, it was around 11 p.m. My roommate and her boyfriend were gone, and for once I wished they were there to keep me company. Wow, I was definitely in shock. On autopilot, I got ready for bead, brushing my teeth and changing into sweatpants and a Sacramento Kings t-shirt. I left the lights on and curled up under my heavy comforter with no idea of how to process what I had just experienced. I was already beginning to question whether or not the encounter had actually happened. What if I was just going crazy? I mean, my family had always suspected my Great-Aunt Linda had a mild case of schizophrenia. I was dying to talk to someone, but who could I tell? I knew none of my friends in Morgantown would believe me. A few of my good friends in California might be more receptive, but I also didn't want to risk making them think I was going crazy on the other side of the country. As the adrenaline wore off, I began to tire quickly. But before I fell asleep, I formulated a plan. I decided to put my story online, where I could remain relatively anonymous. Maybe someone will believe me, or better yet, even contact me to say they experienced something similar. But I'm a bit of a cynic, so I'm not holding my breath.