Stillhouse Lake Novels & Stories

A small farmhouse sat abandoned next to a ring of rusting metal silos. The northern shore of the river was home to the Stalnoy mining district, a patchwork grid of rusty metal depots and tall buildings slicing into the sky. Two bridges jutted out of the district like arms, clutching the opposite side of the river. Crumbling concrete ramps lead down towards the riverbed at various intervals, boat launches that hadn't seen use in twenty years.

When Richard’s cell phone rang, he tended to the call while I unpacked a few things for the weekend. The bathroom was as big as my whole apartment in Chicago. There were walk-in closets, a double sink, a soaking tub with jets, and a huge shower. Around the corner, windows with a view of Lake Michigan surrounded a hot tub. With the house situated on a lakeside cliff about a hundred feet above the water, those windows gave an eagle’s-nest view of the lake and trees. A peaceful sight. From the window, I couldn’t see the shoreline below, but I could see the wide, expansive Great Lake and the triangular sails of a boat in the distance.

I waited for Simon to message her location, and he did so within a minute. Simon: She is at the east end of Lake Poinsett. I will keep you posted if she relocates. Me: Great! As we crested the ridge of the developed region of the lakeside, the moon's glistening streak created a beautiful teardrop-spruce in color on the lake's surface, and it was shaped like a flawless flat disc. Its monastery's tranquility was disturbed by the blasting music emanating from the shimmering expanse of space around it. The location was surrounded by pine trees with bamboo torches aligning the land, and the aroma of mint drifted up to us as the mass merrily gyrated.

~Rose~ ”You made it!” Clara shirked and ran up to me, wrapping her arms around me. I hugged her back and giggled and she dragged me and her brother into their lake hosue. When I first heard the word ’lakehosue’ I expected a smaller, wicker house by a lake, like a cozy cotage. What I didn't except was a humongous mansion with three stories and an entire private lake with three jetskees and a yatch outside.

she orders like a general leading her troops to war, "we have breakfast plans in an hour!" Exactly forty five minutes later we are piling into her Toyota 4-Runner which is perfect for combating the winter weather we experience here in the Northern Lakes pack, which is located right next to Lake Erie, on the border of Ohio and Pennsylvannia with my dressed in a long sundress and strappy sandals, with a large sunhat to cover my eyes as we enjoy the last of this nice summer weather before things change to falls and freezing winters.

CJ sits right next to me. I look around this amazingly beautiful place. It's out of this world. The lake is absolutely breathtaking, surrounded by minor mountains and it sits like the regal crown of the earth. It's ringed with small hills and at the ragged shoreline is a tangled mass of gnarled twisted roots ringing into the water. I take in a deep breathe and stare silently at the still waters. It's twilight and the surface of the lake is as smooth as black grass. CJ throws a pebble into the still water. He throws another one. And another one. As the pebbles skip across the still waters, the radiating ripples catches the moonlight, a vision of ecstacy.

Of course, I don't blame my mother but ever since I was 8, we have been constantly on the move. My mom didn't fancy me living alone and her work was very important to her. So we moved to White Lake. A big enough town that was split in two, to house an unofficial area called Black Pond. Let's just say, it was much like the parliament of small countries. One town with two opposing districts that constantly vie for dominance. On one side was the Privitels and on the other was the Vicisski. The districts were separated by a legendary bridge, on one side was water as black as night and the other was as white as limestone. No one knew the true story of the water but I imagined that it was one to d

“Heartbreaking.” “Absolutely tragic,” Vanessa murmured, barely hiding her grin. My dad did the same, but they both ended up snickering. Dad really loves vanessa. But how could he not? “You should see the lake too,” I added. “Silver Lake. It’s up in the north part of the property, past the tree line. Real peaceful this time of year. Water’s still as glass.” “That sounds incredible,” Macey said. “Do people swim in it?” “In summer. It’s cold as sin right now even though there’s no snow.”

Tonight, it was a familiar, comforting silver orb, casting long, elegant shadows through the dense canopy of pine and ironwood. They were headed to the Whispering Lake, a secluded, crescent-shaped body of water nestled in a forgotten valley miles from the main settlement. It was a place untouched by pack politics, untainted by the blood of the trial ring, and entirely removed from the judging eyes of the elders. It was just water, stone, and the watching stars.

They kept walking along the path for a while until the trees starting to thin out, and then all of a sudden, they were out of the woods and standing along the shoreline of the lake. “Wow, this is really beautiful.” Alaina said. “Yes, it is. I come here a lot, to clear my head and to think. I have been here a lot more over the past few weeks than I have since I bought this house.” he said quietly. Alaina hung her head, but didn’t say anything. Caleb turned around and faced her. “Give me one good reason why I should give you a chance to prove anything.” Alaina looked up at him. She seen more than pain in his eyes this time, she saw anger too.