This all happened about five years ago. Still, the memories of it linger and the nightmares

persist. The details of everything are so clear in my mind. The sights, the smells, the

feeling of my pounding heart as I run for my life, terrified. I've never spoken about

this to anyone. Until now. So, here goes. The Pacific Ocean was at my back and the

sound of crashing waves could be heard receding behind me as I trudged along the uphill

path through the trees. The air smelled like saltwater, kelp and pine needles.

He's not going to believe this place, Gilbert said, walking a few paces ahead of me

up the trail. He was wearing well-worn fisherman's overalls and thick rubber boots which went

up to his thighs. I don't want to oversell it, but I promise you, you won't see anything

like this again in your life. I didn't realise at the time what he meant by that, but I'd

find out soon enough. When we came into a clearing, I saw a beautiful, fresh water bay.

The lake was clear and aqua blue, peaceful and utterly silent aside from our echoing voices

and the occasional call of birds in the distance. A bald eagle was perched on a nearby tree

watching us from above. Mountains stood on the horizon, their peaks

hallowed with mist, making the place look picturesque and stunning. My trip to British Columbia

had revealed many of the most beautiful views I've ever seen, and this one topped them

all.

It's beautiful, I said to Gilbert or Struck. I can't believe how clear the water is and

how blue. It really is amazing. Do you see all those cottages over there? He asked in

his thick French Canadian accent. I looked around and saw several of the waterside houses,

although I wouldn't call these monstrosities cottages. There were more like mansions.

Most were well hidden among the trees, despite their size, with impressive decks and landscaping.

...