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BOZHO

Madison, Wisconsin, Spring 1917

Peter walked along the Lake Mendota beach, near Picnic Point. He liked how the land jutted out into the water and how, at the very end, it made him feel like he was in the middle of the lake. It was where he came to clear his head after a tough day of classes.

It was almost time for final exams. He could get through a few more weeks. He kicked his feet at the rocks on the beach, satisfied by the scuffling sound of the pebbles scattering every which way.

He picked up a bigger rock and threw it into the lake. Ker-plunk. He reached for another and then another. He was about to grab his fourth when his eye caught something unusual on the ground.

Picking it up, he held it against the fading sunset to study it. It looked as if it could be a fish scale, round and tough. But it was much too large. He put it in his pocket to show to his professor.

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“What is it?” Peter asked.

“Ah, yes.” His professor adjusted his eyeglasses as he studied the thing Peter had found. “I know this. I came here from New England, you know.”

“Yes, sir, I know.”

His professor liked to talk about his upbringing and education on the East Coast.

“Because of that, I am acquainted with this species.”

“What species is it?” Peter asked.

He handed the scale to Peter. “It is from a sea serpent.”

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Fall 1917

The fisherman checked his basket. He just needed to find a few more perch, and he’d have enough for a good fish fry that evening. This was his favorite spot; he’d surely get enough here.

He set his basket down on the beach and rolled up his pants, thankful the early autumn water was still warm enough. He moved slowly, taking care not to step on any rocks, and waded out to where the sand dropped off. He cast his line into the water.

He cast a few times, but each time, he came back with nothing. “Where are the fish today? This is usually my lucky spot,” he mumbled to himself.

About 100 feet away, a head emerged from the water. It was like a snake with a large mouth and eyes.

The fisherman stared, frozen with fear. When he came to his senses, he scrambled up to the beach. In his haste, he dropped his pole and left it, with his basket.

When he tried to tell his friends what had happened, they laughed. No one believed his story about the monster in the lake.

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Lorraine shifted her hands underneath her chin, taking care not to get a splinter. The autumn sun felt warm on her back.

“I can’t believe it’s still warm enough to sunbathe,” she said happily as she relaxed on the dock.

There was no answer.

Lorraine stole a sideways glance at her new boyfriend. The sight of his back rising up and down in even repetitions told her that he had dosed off. She smiled and closed her eyes. Lorraine couldn’t believe she was so lucky to have hooked such a good guy so early in the school year.

She felt a tickle on the bottom of her foot. She looked again at her boyfriend. He was still asleep, so she closed her eyes.

She felt it again. Turning quickly, she saw the head of a creature breaking the surface of the water. It looked like a giant snake—or maybe even the head and neck of a dragon. But its big eyes were friendly, almost laughing.

The monster stuck out its long tongue, and again, it caressed and licked the soles of her feet.

Lorraine screamed and yanked her feet away. Shaking her boyfriend, she woke him.

“What is it?” he asked, jumping up. “What happened?”

“There’s something there! In the water!”

They grabbed their towels and, together, ran up the dock and all the way to the frat house.