Francis
I never had any adventures in the suburbs of Chicago, but we did go camping at Quetico Park. Quetico Park was isolated, that we went days on end without seeing anyone. I loved it there but there’s no way I will go back, after what happened to Francis Brandywine.
Francis was camping at Quetico Park with her family. She never wanted to go, out there, there is no WiFi or reception, and this doesn’t exactly appeal to a reckless 17 year old girl. One night, she wanted to go to the deepest part of the lake on a boat so she could look up to the stars, have a smoke and write in her journal. Waiting until her family was sound asleep, Francis snuck out, put on her black Doc Martens boots, grabbed a lamp and she headed out to the lake.
The boat was old, wooden and rusty. Francis sighed as she gently rowed to the deepest part of the lake. The lake was made out of a melted ice glacier, the silent black water would be freezing. Francis gently rowed and rowed until she was content that she was over the deepest part of the lake, she lay down and looked up to the clear night sky.
About an hour had past and Francis was just about asleep. Suddenly she heard a crisp, clear knock of the bottom of the wooden boat. This disturbed her and she suddenly sat up, her jet black hair sprawled across her face. Francis peered over the edge of the boat to see if she had drifted ashore. But her reflection only stared back at her. Francis reassured herself that it was nothing, lay back down and continued to gaze up at the stars.
After 10, 20 minutes, there was a loud knock once again, Francis nerves were rattled. Gently reaching out to the still water, her slender finger brushing over the water surface, to see if anything was there. She thought that it was a turtle or a fish, or some other type of creature. But she couldn’t escape the fact that no animal or creature would make a clear knocking sound like a human knocking loudly on a brass door. Francis tricked herself into believing it was nothing, she sat back down and continued to write in her journal.
An hour later, just when she believed she had imagined it all, the third knock came and the boat was knocked side to side. BANG, BANG, BANG, and this time it was loud as a bass drum. Francis screamed. She knew that she need to get out of the lake and fast. Grabbing the oars, she rowed and rowed. Her breathing became quicker and salty tears were threatening to escape. Suddenly she stopped and realised that the boat hadn’t moved a centimetre. Usually, since the water was calm, she would have made quick progress. Something was keeping Francis and the boat from moving.
After a while, Francis manage to calm herself and thought that it was time to take some extraordinary measures. She grabbed an oar and dipped it into the calm water, waving it around to see if there was anything there. The oar was suddenly pulled down by an invisible force. This caused Francis to tumble back, tipping the other oar over the side. Francis. Was. Stranded.
Her teeth chattered and Francis curled up in a ball. Slowly she sat up and to past time, wrote in her journal, describing every movement and sound. Waiting for whatever to happen, happen.
The next day, they found the boat, which was washed to shore. Inside it, there was Francis’ journal. It is only because of this journal, that we know what happened. When they found the journal, the last page was still wet. Written with a bloody finger, it said, “I DID KNOCK FIRST.” Francis Brandywine was never seen again.
By Rebecca Thwaites
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