The Blue Hour is delighted to bring you a short story in six parts by author Lucien Brodeur. This is the final chapter, part six.
In the darkness of the bedroom Mr. Boudreau was awakened by what sounded like a crashing of waves coming from the direction of Jules’ room. He started from bed, asking his sleeping wife, “Did you hear that?”
He ran into the hallway and pounded on the locked bedroom door, finally slamming it open with his shoulder.
The sight inside confounded Mr. Boudreau. Jules’ Star Wars sheets were empty. There was a note on his desk. But most striking was the unusual appearance of the bedroom ceiling, which looked like the surface of a lake. It reminded Mr. Boudreau of the one they had camped near in the Sierra Nevadas.
The water rocked and foamed as if in a storm. Mr. Boudreau detected the scent of salmon eggs and the innards of gutted fish. In a flash he remembered fishing with Jules on those peaceful mornings in the mountains and at some point telling his son, “The way we feel at this lake—this is the way we should live all the time.”
Now still gazing upwards, Mr. Boudreau saw in the receding water a dim pair of eyes, identical to Jules’. As they floated upwards and out of sight the silhouette of a hand appeared, waving goodbye.
This is the final chapter of Green Lake by Lucien Brodeur. We hope you enjoyed it as much as we did!
Lucien Brodeur is a high school English teacher who lives with his family outside of Boston. His short stories have appeared in Mirror Dance, Eunoia Review, and the Four Cornered Universe.