This story was submitted to the BCWPA by Sam Cook from Hanover, WV.

It was a crisp spring morning and far too cold to be in the water, but Sam couldn't wait any longer. She dragged her boat down the ramp, the lake stinging her bare feet. With a yelp, she pushed it off the asphalt, hopping into the kayak. A towel ready, she dried her feet and slipped them back into her socks and shoes.

Aside from the early-rising birds, Sam was the only one here. No other cars sat in the lot, and no other boats were in the water. It was quiet, peaceful, and perfectly clear. Shivering, she zipped up her jacket; the early morning dew had made its way onto her sleeves, sending a shiver down her spine.

Adjusting slightly, she paddled into the gently rippling, green water and away from the boat launch. She didn't come out here to exercise or adventure; it was just a routine she enjoyed. Rhythmically paddling, building speed, she rested the pole on the boat, allowing the water to carry her a bit as she stared up at the tall, bare rock faces. A waterfall flowed not too far away; she floated past it as she had many times before, appreciating its sound and beauty.

The sun a little higher, it set a golden filter over everything. Looking up, new graffiti was scrawled on one of the cliffs with white spray paint: Kenny loves Shirley. The light around her suddenly dimmed; peeking over her shoulder, a mist had unknowingly grown in the boat's wake. Its transparent tendrils reached around and above. Behind, the sky's bright blue disappeared, the rock walls vanished, and the water reflected the stark greys and whites.

While it was only fog, Sam felt a knot of fear in her belly. It was unusual for mist to appear like that. Curling up as the wet, cool clouds overtook the kayak, she shivered. A splash broke her stare into the void; to her left, she saw it: a white horse standing knee-high in the water. It snorted, wagging its head up and down, flicking its tail, and stomping with another splash. A long, gray mane blew behind it like a flag; strands and tendrils stuck to its neck and back, damp. It stared side-eyed at her, black pupils rolling around and exposing white. The waves lapping against her boat, the kayak slowly spins in a wide circle, but Sam's eyes remain transfixed on the horse.

Seeing a horse in the middle of a lake would be strange in most places, but there was something even odder about this one. Parts of it were almost see-through, its hair and rump swirling in intricate patterns. With a stark realization, Sam noticed her hair was not blowing; there was no wind to move the horse's hair or the fog around it. Mouth agape, fist-sized pieces of the animal broke off, churning and dissipating into nothingness; the missing portions were replaced slowly, like growing fog on a windshield.

Throwing its head back, the horse whinnied, raising both front legs into the air and stomping into the water; instead of shooting water out from its splash, dense fog jetted out. Barely perceptible, she saw the vague shadow stomp down once more.The fog was so thick it made Sam feel claustrophobic; it was not only wet and cold but sticky and a darker shade of gray. The sun was completely blocked from view, as were all of her surroundings. She spun in a gray void.

Sam could hear the echo of the horse splashing away, its neighs permeating the hazy atmosphere. Cold seeped deeper; her teeth chattered. Paddling hesitantly, she sought rock or shore to find her way back. The fog only began to subside after an hour. Its bright gray and white tendrils receded towards the dam, accentuated by the budding woodlands, dark water, and colorful, perfectly clear sky.