CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Never break the oldest law in Humming Lake, CA" Creepypasta

Episode Date: July 1, 2020

AUTHOR'S WEBSITE►https://nickbotic.com/CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Nickbotic: https://nickbotic.com/2020/06/29/neve...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY- Stefan Koidl:►https://www.artstation.com/artwork/4YVQk►https://www.instagram.com/stefankoidl/SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

I've been here since I was two years old, and by all accounts I had a normal upbringing. That's owed to the fact that this is an altogether normal place. The people work in other nearby towns or craftwares here that they sell in those aforementioned places. Lives lived here are all those of typical small town residents, save for one aspect. A law that has been around long since before the town itself came into existence. a law that was set in place by unknown peoples at an unknown time, a law that has been tirelessly enforced by all peoples who have called this place home since, a law that has been abided by all who set foot in this place, except one.

The law is simple to abide. Never touch the water. All children who are brought up in Humming Lake, which, by the way, is a colloquy. local name, I taught from the youngest ages to never touch the lake itself. For me personally, I never knew why the law was put in place, nor did my parents, nor theirs. The reason for the law and the consequences that would arise from breaking it has been lost to history. Simply put, it was a rule that is always followed, an inherent regulation which we all abided, however, blindly.

you might ask, well, why would you live in a lake that you apparently cannot enjoy? And it's a fair question. The reason is that along with that law being passed down, so too has been the residents of Humming Lake's unwavering protection of the lake. For us, the lake has always been treated as a decoration, a massive, idyllic painting on display at the edge of the northernmost residence backyards. and besides that assumed responsibility, it's simply a wonderful place to live. Out here, the nature around us is part of our town itself.

Beautiful views, hiking, camping, rock climbing, it all amounts to an ideal, simple place to live for people seeking a simple way of life. We're about 40 minutes from a larger town, so while secluded, we aren't totally disconnected from the rest of the world. We just don't go in the lake. Last summer, we found ourselves under the oppressive thumb of an overwhelming heat wave, as it surely isn't difficult to imagine, the seductive gazes from our curiously dark, yet still glistening water, were frustratingly tempting, but still, the townspeople of Humming Lake obeyed our cardinal law. It was easy enough. Other

summers had proven similarly unbearable and we made it through. Above ground pools provided the same respite that cold showers and sprinklers did, but for eight-year-old Rodney Hartle, such substitutions weren't enough. For Rodney, the siren song of the 1.7 Aga Lake was too alluring to resist. While spending the afternoon running around with friends in the Danforth's backyard, which, after a small ditch, led direct into the lake, under the watchful eye of their parents, Rodney went inside through the back door to use the bathroom. Shortly thereafter, while Cal Danford manned the grill, he saw in his periphery a shirtless Rodney Hartle sprinting from the front yard down

the side of the house. It took Cal a moment to realize what was happening, and by the time he did, it would soon prove to have been a moment too late. In a split second the sprint A dry eight-year-old had breezed by him, all while screaming in the kind of defiant voice only a child can truly muster. I'm going swimming. Everyone's heads turned with faces of abject terror as Cal dropped the spatula to the ground and tried as he might, the only person with even a hope of catching the rebellious boy before it was too late.

The rest of us watched with wide eyes as Rodney took step after rapid step with every intention of plunging himself into that forbidden abyss. He took a barely noticeable larger step over a shallow ditch and, in two more steps, he would be feeling the water that none of us had ever felt against his skin. Were it not for Caldancforth. His long strides caught up to Rodney Hartle and he stretched his arm out, just able to hook around Rodney's waist.

But it was too late. The force behind Rodney's dash pulled Cal with it, sending the two tumbling down. Cal's entire right side became soaked in the impermissible waters, while Rodney wound up on his hands and knees. The rest of us stayed frozen in apprehensive anticipation as Cal scrambled to get himself and Rodney back on the grass. Amber Hartle screamed and buried a face in her husband's shoulder as we all waited for whatever unspeakable horror was sure. about before the man and the boy by the water, and in many of our minds, us. But nothing happened. As the two sat, terrified on the grass, just out of reach of the first man-made ripples humming

lake had seen in innumerable eons, Jim Hartle began screaming at his son, tearing himself away from his wife who desperately tried to hold him back to no avail. for Danforth hurried over to her husband with towels and dropped them, then quickly stepped back. Jim grabbed a towel on his way over and used it to snatch his son up. Rodney attempted to wrap his arms around his father, frightened at everyone's reaction and his dad's own ire. But Jim pushed his son off of him at the very last moment, sparing himself from getting any of the water on him. Cald dried himself off, wisely telling everyone to stay away from him. It seemed like an eternity that we all stood there.

The burgers that had been on the grill were charred to a crisp as we watched intently. Half at the lake, the other half are the only two people who had touched it in our lifetime. But, nothing happened to either. Cald Anforth and Rodney Hartle dried off, with the latter being taken home by his parents, the former then politely asking his guests to return home as well. I left Cal with a sincere, call me if you need anything, and went home, and for the next ten days, everything was as it always was.

Rodney Hartle was kept under a closer eye than he had been, but after a week's grounding and a stern talking to, so too was his life back to normal. On that tenth night, however, while John Darby and I sat on his back deck, overlooking the lake, cracking our seventh beer each, and rustling came from the trees over to our right, the ones just past Caldanforth's house.

John and I each turn a bit and watched as something emerged from the shadows, lit only by the cloud-covered moon behind it. We joked that Rob Legrass, the closest thing we had to an archetypal town drunk, had gotten lost from his way from the bedroom to the bathroom and was returning from defiling the side of a tree. But the longer we watched, the less it looked like Robb LaGrasse, the less it looked like anyone we knew,

the less it looked like an actual person. It lurched along in a broken gate, taking one step in the same time any able person would take five. Whatever it was, it was grossly thin, leaning slightly to the front and to the side. Its gaunt, skeletal arms dangled freely, hanging nearly to its bony knees. We watched as the silhouette of this hellish-shaped monstrosity

trudged along at its own leisurely pace. As our eyes adjusted to whatever it was we were looking at, we saw thin black protrusions poking out from its pitch-black shape, as well as the fact that it was dripping. John and I both rose to our feet as the thing continued its slow march towards Cal Danforth's house. John ran inside, telling me in a half breath that he was grabbing his gun, and moments later, he returned with a hunting rifle for himself and a pistol for me. We each took slow steps towards Cal Danforth's, and, even at our slowest, we were moving just a bit faster than this thing that came from the trees.

Stop right there, John yelled out. The thing didn't obey John's order. It was as though it didn't hear him at all. John loaded a bullet into the chamber of his gun. You hear that? I said, stop. Still, the thing didn't appear to have heard any of it, although this time, as it made its slow way across the Danforth's yard coming up on the grill.

It stood up straight. We were now able to see the thing's height in its entirety, and it stood conservatively at seven feet. Perhaps it was adrenaline that kept me from hearing it. Perhaps it was my inebriation. Perhaps again it hadn't happened until this moment. But as it stood up, it made a stomach churning, cracking noise, as if its bones were all resetting.

That noise persisted as it took its next step, and the one after that, and every step thereafter. Each time it lifted one of its feet off the ground for one of its heavy, short steps. It sounded like countless sets of knuckles cracking for the first time in years. John told me to run and grab his flashlight from inside the back door. I returned moments later with a high-powered handheld floodlight and turned it on, bathing the Danvers' backyard in light

and giving us our first real luck at the thing from the trees. Its skin was smooth, a dark, murky grey. The protrusions we'd seen in the silhouette were revealed to be twigs and sticks clinging to its body and while it possessed no hair, part of its body was spayed with what looked like seaweed. You asshole, I'll shoot you! John screamed, and a moment later a light turned on near the front of the Danforth abode. The thing still paid us no mind. Another light turned on, this time in Cal's kitchen, which is situated near his back door. Cal, stay inside, I yelled.

What the hell is that thing? John whispered to me. I offered no speculation. What the hell are you guys doing? We heard Cal call out from his open kitchen window. There's some damn thing in your yard, man, heading straight for you. As John yelled back, the thing stopped. Its bones sang their crunchy song, as it's,

turned around and faced the water. There was a deafening silence that lingered between myself and John, the lanky creature and Cal Danforth. What finally broke that silence gives me chills, just thinking about it now. We were still a fair distance away from it, so its features weren't readily apparent, but from what I could see, its eyes were little more than sunken holes in its face,

and its mouth stretched much farther. up the cheek than any normal person. And then it opened that mouth. It opened an average amount, like your mouth or mine would open when we spoke. But then, accompanied

by the sickening crunch of snow being packed under a boot, its jaw unhinged. All the while, water spilled from the openings in its face. It then began making sounds. They weren't words. That was clear.

even despite the fact that it was talking with a mouthful of water. It was undulating. The sounds it made came from deep within its throat. Horrible, ghastly, terrifying sounds. John aimed his rifle at the grey creature and prepared to shoot. But I think he was as curious as I was regarding what this strange being was trying to communicate, and to whom.

after a few more seconds of those hellish noises emanating from deep inside the thing's stomach it stopped and for a few fleeting moments the only sounds I heard were my breath my heartbeat the soft whistling of a light breeze and the invisible cicadas chirping their midnight song but then the cicadas stopped and it was that silence that made my heart sink to my stomach That absence of all sound that registered in my brain as a signal that something was very, very wrong. And, after a single moment of that silence that felt like an eternity, the lake responded.

In that moment I learned from when its humming lake had gotten its colloquial sobriquet. It didn't have a source, at least one that I could discern as I stood there. but a distinct hum simply materialized in my ears. It surrounded us and it sounded as though it were coming from behind me, in front of me, on both sides of me, from under me and from above me and from within me and without me all at once. It was low as if someone with a deep voice was simply going, I can't say for certain, but at that moment I looked at the lake

and it seemed darker. There was always an uncharacteristic dimness to the body of water, a sort of absence of the colour that might come to mind when one thinks of such a geographic feature, and more of a deeper blue, especially towards the centre of the small inland sea. Even under the moonlight, the lake seemed to swallow all light

and appeared a pitch-black pit of uncertainty. and that pit hummed and then it stopped replaced then by the abnormal figure in Cal Danforth's backyard and its guttural nonsense the cicada's returned as the creature and the lake finished their indiscernible conversation with a former turning back towards Cal

a small man but with the courage and brashness of a hundred larger men Cal Danforth yelled out for John not to shoot it and that he would take care of it. After disappearing into his house for a moment, and while the dripping, grey mass of bones and smooth skin made two more of its crooked, orderable steps towards his home,

Cal returned with a metal baseball bat. John and I watched, he threw the eyes and me through my disbelieving eyes, as Cal Danforth stepped out through his back door, ranting a raving about how, quote, some messed up cripple wasn't going to threaten him. You want to come onto my property,

he shouted rhetorically. Think you're going to come onto my property and do something? He clearly hadn't thought of what to say beforehand and was winging it in the moment. But it didn't matter what he said. Cal approached the lumbering beast, baseball back cocked back and ready to swing. But it didn't matter.

With a speed it hadn't exhibited until then, it stretched out its lanky arm and round two of its thin, tindrel-like fingers, fingers that I would swear got longer at its whim, underneath Caldanforth's jaw, up through the fleshy part underneath his mouth, and pulled the left side of the lower half of his jaw off. It happened in the blink of an eye, with an ease akin to a giant brushing away a fly. thing had torn skin and snapped bone, leaving Caldanthor standing in stupefied shock as the lower half of his face hung to one side, a mess of blood and viscera and a lower set of teeth displaced from their rightful fixture and Caldanth's visage.

He stood there, silently, as the creature retracted his hand and flung it up once again, much in the same way it had the first time. But now, without the impediment of a lower half of Cal's face that slow its thrust, Its fingers, longer again yet, plunged into the top of cow's mouth, but this time they didn't retract. This time, I watched as cow's body went limp, held up only by the unnatural strength of its killer, and his eyes began bleeding. John and I too were in shock, and he snapped out of it first. He yelled as he began firing his weapon at the thin, murderous beast. The deafening bangs of his gun,

shaking me from my stupor. I began firing at it too, and after my second shot, it dropped Cal to the ground. Our shots didn't seem to affect it at first, but the more John unloaded into it, it looked to be putting up its arms, though it seemed not in defence,

but in annoyance. Even still, it essentially ignored us. It resumed its slow, laborious gait, seemingly aiming to go around Cowell's house, In that stressful time, I wasn't sure where its destination might be. John quickly ran the few yards back to his home and disappeared for the briefest of moments inside before returning with a machete. I voiced my concern, noting that a bury of bullet hadn't been able to harm it. But still, John persisted.

He made a wide berth around the thing, machete in hand, and was nearly to the front of Cowell's House when John made his move. He swung the machete, cutting cleanly and easily into its head, splitting it from ear to misplaced jaw point. And he continued hacking away at it, with an apparently endless supply of water seeming to splash against the ground and against John. The thing collapsed to the ground in a puddle, its entire body turning to water as it perished, dousing John and soaking his shoes and the grass they stood on. Yeah, yeah, the drunken John shouted. You see that man, you see that? He stopped speaking abruptly and stood up perfectly straight, dropping the machete to the ground with a light splash.

Then he turned back. First, towards what I thought was me, but I would soon realize was the lake. Johnny? I asked meekly, as my friend started taking rigid steps. He walked right past me in jerky, unnatural motions. I called out to him several times, each time ignored.

I watched helplessly as John walked down the grass and right past me, as though I didn't exist. When I realized he was walking towards the lake, I ran to try stop him, but whatever force was compelling him to walk to the lake compelled me to stop. I wasn't capable of moving, unable to stop my front. friend. I was forced to watch as John slowly walked into the lake, first up to his ankles, then his knees, then up to his waist, and then he stopped. He stood there for what felt like an eon, and without any indication that it was about to happen, John Darby was ripped underneath the surface of Humming Lake. The same moment he was under was the moment I was freed

from whatever it was that was keeping me in place. And not a moment later did that hum return. Only this time it was loud enough to hear a mile away. Other people had come to their houses to see what all the commotion was about. And one by one, people saw Cal Danforth's mangled corpse and asked me what had happened, a question to which I didn't truly have an answer. The hum raised in volume. and before long, glass started shattering, and then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

And moments later, from the trees on either side of the four lawns that sat on the part of Humming Lake, came more monstrosities. All of them had humanoid shapes as vague as the first of their kind that had arrived, but the limbs were all mangled, misshaping branches jutting out from their emaciated trunks, and all of them dripped. the same water as their fallen associate. There must have been at least 30 of them, and all of them started towards us with the same hoariless stroll. Just as I was about to address the rest of my fellow townspeople,

something was launched from the lake, landing on John Darby's yard, and then a second something landed not three feet away from it. I picked up John's flashlight and cautiously walked over to whatever it was. Upon shining the light of the unsolicited gifts from Humming Lake I saw that John Darby had been returned to us He was split at the torso

Missing his left arm and had the clear absence of a head With maybe three inches of his spine peaking out through the cranial wound Jess Randolph screamed Mike Ward vomited I nearly passed out But a message I needed to get to the townspeople kept me conscious Hey, I shouted.

Then lowered my voice to a hushed whisper. I think they're coming for the Hartle Kid. The threat of unspeakable horrors befallen a child was enough to kick everyone into gear. Myself and three others began running to the Hartle's house while three others who had joined the ruckus stayed behind to combat the creatures from the lake against my strongest objections.

As we ran, we began hearing the screams of our unfortunate, bull-headed neighbours, and a look behind me at the angular, hobbling shadows slowly, but surely swarming them, turn my legs to rubber, and nearly made me fall. Our town doesn't have a typical structure.

It's more or less just an area where houses are sporadically placed, seemingly at random, with a single road that leads out into the rest of the world. We ran through yard after yard, until finally we stepped foot, under the one belonging to the Hartle's.

Jess and I pounded on the front door, screaming for the Hartels to wake up, and, after a few moments, the lights inside the house began turning on. Brian Hartle opened the door in a half-sleep rage with a, what the hell to greet us? We told him that something was coming for his son as the result of young Hartle's failure

to adhere to the law that had overshadowed the town of Humming Lake since long before any of us came into existence. Naturally, the elder Hartle expressed his willingness to shoot whatever that something might be. But I told him it would be a fruitless endeavour. I made the decision that Rodney needed to be hidden somewhere. I told Brian to take his family and drive far and fast away from Humming Lake. And so we went back to the Hartle's house while the patriarch woke up his wife and son. I peered out from the front window

and saw in the distance the limping, jagged silhouettes heading our way and yelled to the family to hurry and at the same moment, me Bill Dyer, Jess and Mike heard the shower turn on fearing that we didn't adequately

express the urgency with which they needed to be moving, Jess and I ran through the living room and turned down the hall where we saw all three heartels standing in fear, all three of them wondering who turned their shower on. And then, to mine and Jess's right, the kitchen sink turned on at full blast. Is that? Jess started, but she didn't need to finish. Not a moment later did the flow of water

become too strong, sending the force at soaring into the kitchen ceiling. The water was dark and murky, the unmistakable water of Humming Lake. Not the clear well water the town had come to rely on. The knobs were next, landing on the now wet linonium with a tin ring from each. The heartles yelped when similar sounds came from the bathroom, the showerhead and bathroom and bathroom sink faucet, and all the corresponding knobs bursting from their right places, flooding the bathroom with a forbidden liquid. After a moment, that very same water began pulling out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Jump over it, we have to leave now, I yelled.

The family obliged and all three of them made it to the living room without so much as a drop of water on them. Brian grabbed his keys from the bowl on the small table at the end of the hallway, and we made our way outside, where our hope was crushed. The lights on all the houses we could see were on, and coming from inside the houses were shouts of anger, fear and confusion, as well as water. so much water It came from under all the Hartle's neighbours' doors and before long it came from the Hartle's house too We did our best to avoid it

But Mike Ward wasn't lucky As he tried to step over a stream of water He tripped landing hands and face first Into a shallow river Over him Bill Dyer similarly stumbled ending up on his backside Soaked Jess yelled at them to run the other

so as they'd not risk us getting wet, and we wish them luck in a single breath. I looked behind us and saw the Hardle's car with water surrounding it on the ground below. Then I saw them. The creatures had made their way up the neighbourhood, with some breaking off their groups to go inside the houses belonging to whom I can only assume with those not lucky enough to avoid the fountains the lake had created from their fixtures. Finally, we reached our destination, which was three houses down from the Hartels, Bob Harrison's house. Bob was in the middle of re-shingling his roof and had what we hoped to be our saving grace. A ladder already set up against the back of his home.

With the water closing in from three sides, our only route was to hope and pray of the spot on Bob's backyard that we took weren't yet soiled by the lake water coming from his and the other houses. Brian and Rodney over his shoulder And only moments before he reached the ladder His foot made a loud squelch Before I even realized what had happened Brian grabbed me, flipped me around

Through Rodney over my shoulder He told me to go And that he was going to climb the lattice On the next house over Rodney climbed the ladder first Then Jess Then Amber Hartle, then me As we climbed to the roof

I looked over and saw Brian sloshing through Bill's yard and over to the side of Hal Chalmers. Once we made it to the roof, I kicked the ladder to the ground. I can't be certain how long it was, but we were safe for a few minutes. We took the time, sitting in the half of Bob Harrison's roof

that was shingled to try to regroup, but none of us could come up with the plan. All the while, there was a cacophony of fractures and cracks and splinters and breaks blended with the close and distant screams of the unfortunate residents of humming lakes surrounding us and before we knew it, the lake's grotesque agents

were shambling to the ground below. We were surrounded by the swamp of lake water to the back and sides and by the slick, grey, jagged beings to the front. There was a brief standoff wherein we on the roof simply watched in terror as the creatures below congregated with a single goal in mind.

The silence was haunting as they looked up at us, and that silence was only broken when one of them raised its arm, with all the creaks and cracks that accompanied its movement. It pointed to the eight-year-old. His mother yelled down they weren't going to take a son, as any mother would, at which point the creatures craned their crooked necks and arched their mangled backs to face the direction of the lake, now roughly two blocks away. one of them spoke loudly in its indiscernible language and once it had said its peace they all made the turn back towards us spine tingling for us and spine shattering for them then the lake replied

the home came from all around us steadily raising in volume the glass on several more houses shattered and it became disorienting while the rest of us covered our ears Amber Hartle released her sun and stood up. What are you doing? Jess yelled out.

But Amber didn't respond. Amber simply stood up and took three steps forward, the last of which sent a tumbling off the roof to the ground, a fall that culminated in a sickening crunch that I was thankful I didn't have to see the visual for. Oh my God, Jess yelled, looking past me to our right. We had been so focused on what was going on in front of us that we had nearly forgotten about the just now becoming a widow of Brian on the other roof.

Two of the lake's emissaries had wondered the jagged wonder two houses down. Brian too blindly walked down the roof and we watched helplessly as he went headfirst over the edge. But instead of simply hitting the ground below, one of the creatures reached this hand up which went through Brian's skull and down the side of his face, throat and chest, and caught him, then simply tossed his limb cadaver to the grass. Jess and I sat there in horror, shock, unable to move,

while Rodney wrapped his arms around Jess, sobbing, presumably at the revelation that he was now an orphan. The lake then spoke again, but this time was less booming. It was hard to describe a hum, but whereas before this moment, The lake's tone had been menacing. It now sounded almost... calming.

It hummed its hum, then quieted, never fully stopping. And, instead of being replied to, by the monsters it sent to do its bidding, a simple response came from Jess's lap. What? Rodney said. The hum continued, and so too did his exchange with the boy. I don't want to... Why? Will my mom and dad be there? No. Rodney cried.

No, I won't. The creatures below all screamed. From deep in their stomachs, by way of their throats, they all screamed and shouted in tones entirely far into the human ear. The hum joined them, returning to its horrible booming roar. Rodney buried his face in Jess's shoulder, sobbing. The noise was overwhelming, and I could almost feel the head. headache materializing my forehead.

And in an instant, the beast stopped and the humming returned to a tolerable level. At the same time, Rodney stopped crying and tried to push away from Jess, but she held on to him. I only saw his face for a moment, but in that moment I saw that all emotion, all life had left him. Everything that made little eight-year-old Rodney himself, all the adventure. the personality, the hopes, the dreams, all of it was gone. The moment I saw his face was when he pushed his head away just enough to get into position.

And then he sank his teeth into Jess's throat, tearing away a chunk of skin and sinew and sending blood flooding down her neck. In an instant, Rodney had turned around and was walking down the roof. As I did my best to stance Jess' wretch's wretch, wound, I watched Rodney step down the shingles and topple forward and squinted my eyes as an inherent reaction to the blood-curdling sound I was expecting to hear. But I didn't hear that sound. Instead, the humming stopped and heard the sounds of one of the creatures vocalizing. And in reply, I heard Rodney. I can't be certain of what he said, but it was something along the lines of

Okay, let's go And then They all began walking back towards the lake The lake's envoys With their lumbering gates And Rodney with a sure-footed Eight-year-old steps They walked and walked

And walked Until they were enveloped in the shadows And out of sight I try my best to help Jess But I'm not a medical professional I use my shirt to keep pressure on the wound But within minutes she was dead.

I stayed up on Bob Harrison's roof for the next 16 hours, with Jess's dead, bloody corpse, roasting in the summer sun not three feet away from me. After a time, people started coming out of their homes, carefully avoiding the spots on the ground still damp with the lake's vengeance. They used plywood and furniture and vehicles to create bridges for those who were trapped, myself included. 27 bodies were pulled out of the neighbourhood's flooded houses in the coming weeks.

We crafted waterproof suits and footwear to traverse our town until such a time as the water dried up or was otherwise cleared out. When the lake claimed its revenge, it resulted in the most harrowing 30 minutes of my life. It was an hour, roughly of chaos, death, confusion and sorrow. But it put one thing into perspective. The one thing that so many of us had pundered for so long, the answer to the question that so many residents of Humming Lake had asked for so long, but for which none of us had ever dared seek,

that half hour of dread gave us the reason for our town's oldest law, the source of which had been lost to time itself. Never touch. The water.