Peter H. Cropes

Far back in the woods 3.5 miles from the lake was a deep sink-hole, ringed with torn roots that made it an inescapable prison. Scattered here and there on the ground was old trash, mostly pull-tab beer cans and shell casings. There was also a map that had been extremely rained on.

From down in the dark hole came a quivering moan, like the person was so sick and scared they wanted to die. Or, was it a person at all?

The pretty girls from the local college were having a great time. They were driving in a Jeep, and they wanted to go skinny-dipping in a remote lake. There were five of them, and their hair blew in the air as the Jeep drove fast down the country lane. No one was around, so the driver pressed more on the gas pedal. Soon they were going fast, too fast. Soon it was too late.

Before they knew it, they ran over a body.