It was truly an odd place for a little brown duck to be — on top of the green metal roof of the log cabin positioned on a hill overlooking Twin Lakes. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd. After all, I’m not a little brown duck.
Perched on a rooftop watching the world awaken as the morning mist slowly burns off the waters was a tranquil way to start any day — except this day. Unfortunately the peacefulness of the scene out at Twin Lakes was soon to be short-lived.
Starting my morning walk up the path, I passed by the log cabin just to my left, waved and called out, “Good morning, Lady Duck.”
I’d seen her many times while walking. She always greeted me with a friendly quack as I got out of my car, then examine me carefully and often discover a handful of Cheerios to start her day. This morning there was no such greeting.
Little did I know how smart Lady Duck actually was to be so far up out of reach. Whatever was weaving its way down the dark pathway through the woods would soon make me wish I too were safely perched up on that roof.
Dusk and dawn are odd times out at Twin Lakes. Sunlight rarely fights its way through the thick canopy of limbs and vines above the pathway. Walking alone, it’s easy to understand how one’s imagination could run away with itself.
Even so, imaginary or not, harmless shadows don’t normally come equipped with heavy breathing. Following a sharp bend through the woods, I suddenly realized that just such a shadow was approaching from the opposite direction.
As far back as I can remember, I’d heard stories of the Monster out at Twin Lakes. Only a few sightings of the creature had been seen over the last 30 years. Still, the accounts were enough to paint a picture of a hideous creature one would never want to meet during the day, much less at night.
Standing somewhere between six and nine feet tall and tipping the scales well over 300 pounds, the monster was bigger than a car. With a mouth full of sharp yellow teeth and covered in long, gray, matted hair from head to tail, it could be seen walking on four legs while dragging the corpse of its latest human victim behind it. When attacking, the monster rears back on massive hind legs using razor sharp claws to slice a man in half with one swipe.
By some accounts, 10 years ago, the monster had eaten the entire duck population that called Twin Lakes home. Five years ago, a family of overnight campers at the lakes were so frightened by what they had heard and seen, the very next day the parents put their house up for sale and moved out of town — never to return.
I’d heard all the rumors and stories about the monster that roamed Twin Lakes, but I’d chosen not to believe. After all, it was a peaceful place for a morning walk. A legendary monster was the last thing I was thinking about — until an approaching shadow appeared around a sharp bend in the path and started to utter deep rumbling growls.
I suddenly stopped, afraid to breathe as the Monster of Twin Lakes came clearly into view. And it was indeed dragging a human! The rumors had been true. Or had they?
After first knocking me to the ground, the monster opened its mouth exposing huge sharp teeth. I actually feared being eaten by the beast. That is, until the owner said, “Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”
With his front paws pinning me to the ground, the biggest dog I’d ever seen started to lick my face with a huge wet pink tongue.
Seems “Zeus” was the fourth Irish wolfhound the owner had had over the last 30 years. Together they walk early in the morning and again at night to avoid the heat of the day.
And what of the summer void of any ducks? The ducks flew to a nearby lake. Twin Lakes had been drained that year for repairs of the dam.
So if you want to visit our small town of Senoia to see all the zombies walking around (they film a hit television show in our downtown), come anytime.
But if you want to see the monster of Twin Lakes, you’ll have to come early or stay late. Zeus finishes his walk by 7 in the morning and by 8 at night.
[Rick Ryckeley, who lives in Senoia, served as a firefighter for more than two decades and has been a weekly columnist since 2001. His email is [email protected]. His books are available at www.RickRyckeley.com.]
