53. Something You Can’t Unsee
When I was a kid, my family went camping near a very large lake. The second day we were there, I really wanted to go to the lake, but my younger sister was taking a nap in the tent. My stepdad watched my sister while my mom and I hiked to the lake ourselves.
When we got there, there were camp rangers, cops, and ambulances all pulled up to the side of the lake, and there were a bunch of small boats circling the water. My mom goes up to a ranger to ask what was up while I snuck off to get closer to the water edge. I get maybe 10 or 15 feet from the water’s edge when two guys in diving gear start pulling out this big, purple thing from the lake. Just then, my mom lifted me up, shoving my face into her chest, and running away from the lake.
As we walked back to the campsite, my mom tries to distract me by asking if I wanted to make s’mores and catch butterflies with her later. Something didn’t feel right to me, so I just said no and stayed silent almost all day. That night, when my sister had gone to bed, she explained me that a man had drowned in the lake before we got there, and the purple thing I saw being pulled out was his dead body.
I only vaguely remember the body; the purple arms being pulled by the divers is what stands out to me most. I don’t know how I didn’t see the face.