“Murder!” This was the headline in the October 16th 1965 Wilson City newspaper, The article described the heinous facts about a terrible morning that left a man dead and a community in shock. An innocent victim, a fisherman minding his own business, killed by two shots from a shotgun.

Thirty years have passed since the murder, however the event I am going to relate to you happened only a short time ago at the same place. I have told no other person and I tell it to you now with reluctance. The lake is tiny in comparison to other much larger lakes. To get there one has to follow a long, winding road that has large trees draping over both sides. The spillway is about three-quarter mile long, where large boulders slope to the waters edge. These boulders become gravel, which eventually turns into grass and weeds. Well, a short while ago in the middle of summer, I had been fishing since dusk. The wind was calm and the temperature was a humid ninety degrees. A full moon had risen high in the sky, and at times clouds blocked its presence, however, the rays that managed to penetrate through created tiny sparkles on the water. A small thunderstorm had formed and its lightning created ghastly distinctions of nearby trees which appeared to dance. Thunder clapped and rolled after each bolt but I continued to fish ignoring the apparent dangers.

I stared anxiously into the darkness, where I could only see rocks along the dam and at times a distant bolt of lightning followed by claps of thunder. Then a sense of uneasiness began to overcome me when I began to ponder the murder that had happened here thirty years prior. As these thoughts meandered through my mind, I noticed a weaving glimmer of light hovering close to the ground. It was very dim in appearance at first but grew brighter and brighter. It was a lantern. “Ah, another fisherman braving the elements” I thought.

This lantern light increased my curiosity. It was too distant to see anyone, just a hazy glow. Nevertheless, something was going on. I began to hear a faint whispering sound, which I could not understand. I sat, listening intensely, when suddenly I heard “come over here, please help me!”

A cold shiver took hold of me. I could not see a person by the light but someone needed help. I got up to investigate when, without warning, the once distant storm gathered. Ominous clouds covered the hazy moon. Once calm air was now howling, slamming waves into the jagged rocks. I covered my head as I continued, attempting to block the penetrating rain. The closer I became, a figure of a man was apparent, calmly sitting and looking straight ahead! Surprised, I asked, “Is everything alright?” The man said nothing, still looking straight ahead. I asked again with a nervous stammer, “Is everything OK?” He turned his head around and looked straight at me not saying a word! I will never forget that look as long as I live, and telling it to you now creates uneasiness in my soul.

The man’s eyes were sunken, his mouth drawn back. Blood gushed from his nose and stained his shirt, excess formed a puddle by his side. His clothes were torn and haggard; earth stained and was dropping to pieces. His hands were rotted. Bones penetrated through loose skin. It was not a living man but a corpse long buried! Frozen, I could not move. My eyes fixed on the ghoulish scene. Suddenly, lightning slithered across the sky, thunder cracked and rolled. Frightened, I turned to run but fell and was knocked unconscious.
I awoke later only to find two shotgun shells by my feet!