I am a husband and father. We have a total of eight pets (not really my choice) and lots of love. I tend to watch too many horror movies which I feel shows through in my work. After all, I began watching them when I was WAY too young. I'd like to thank my aunt for that. I'm hoping this writing thing can take off for me so that I can stop punching a clock and start living life with my beautiful girls. If that doesn't work out, then I'd be happy with a little extra money for beer and pizza. Or to help with feeding these darn animals.

WET DREAMS

by

Scott Clark

It started when I was twelve. I was in a canoe with some of the older kids in camp. They were bullies and one in particular, James, pushed me out of the boat. I hit my head on the side as I fell, and quickly sank.

My eyes remained open and though the water was already murky, my vision grew darker. The last thing I remember was two glowing yellow orbs approaching me.

I came to on the bank. Campers and counselors hovered over me. I lied and said I stood up, lost my balance, and fell out of the canoe. I didn’t want to risk telling the truth and having the older boys get mad and treat me worse than they already had.

That night, I dreamt of two glowing yellow balls of light. As they neared, I could see that they were eyes. Bright, beautiful eyes set in a smooth, soft feminine face. It was the '90s and supermodels were some of the biggest stars at the time. She put them to shame. Cindy Crawford looked like an old hag compared to this face. Long copper hair billowed behind, weightless in the water. A small hand will webbing between the fingers reached out for my face. As I glanced down to see it better, I realized she was naked. A tail was in the place where her legs should have been, but I almost didn't notice, because I was twelve and though her skin was a slight algae-green color, boobies. I'd never seen any, but even then I knew I may never see any this nice again in my life. I almost missed as claws shot from the tips of her fingers.

I awoke with a start just as the claws were thrust toward my neck. I bolted upright in my bed, soaked with what smelled like lake water. I yelled, telling whoever dumped the bucket on me that I was going to kick their ass. No one was awake. At least not before I made all the noise. The counselor in my cabin rushed over, concluding I must have swallowed some water earlier and coughed it out while I was asleep. It didn't make sense, but it seemed the most logical explanation at the time.

I showered as the counselor found a dry bed for me. As the water hit me, I could only picture the strange woman from my dream. It excited me.

I wasn't allowed near the lake for the rest of camp. It was the worst kind of punishment. All I could think of was going back in.

I started a trend that summer. It led to the closure of the camp. The three older boys who were in the canoe with me didn't go home. At least, not while still breathing.

Trevor fell out of a boat much like I did. He didn't resurface and his blue-skinned corpse was found two hundred feet from where he went in the water, despite the fact that others dove in immediately after him.

Brent was found in his bed, soaked much like I was. His skin was also tinged blue. The cause of death was drowning.

James was the worst. His body was found on the bank. Claw marks covered most of his body. Finger-shaped bruises wrapped around his neck. His genitals were gone, with teeth marks indicating they had been bitten off.

I had what I began calling "wet dreams" more often as I grew older. They weren't the typical wet dreams boys have, most of the time. I would dream of her and wake up drenched with lake water, even after I'd gone back home in the city.

I can't go near water without thinking of her. I've never seen another woman so beautiful. I'm currently on my way to vacation on a beach in North Carolina. I can't fight the urge to be near water again.