Friday Story — The Lakehouse.

The lake is still tonight, pitch black. It’s the moons reflection and the stars above that make it visible. The haunting call of solitary loon echoes across the night sky as it drifts by leaving thin cuts on its surface. I’m perched in my favourite chair on a wooden deck above it. The chair’s a red-velvet winged number that hides me from view. Its got wheels on its base that I use to roll it out through the double doors at the front of…