TOP SECRET – June 1811: Military intelligence warns of an anomalous entity at Chateaugay Lake. Reflection-based phenomenon. Do not observe. Victims found reflectionless. Lt. Sanburn investigating. Extreme caution advised. Further reports pending.
Personal Journal of Lt. Waldo Sanburn
Plattsburgh Office, U.S. Military Intelligence Service
Chateaugay Lake, June 17, 1811
June 12, 1811 – Plattsburgh
Dispatched at dawn with orders to investigate a most singular account brought forth by our returning messenger from Malone—one Private Enoch Wetherill, a man of sound discipline and most unlikely to be given to fancy. His report, though halting and fevered in delivery, pertained not to the state of the roads, nor the conditions of His Majesty’s agents abroad, but rather to some unaccountable occurrence at Chateaugay Lake, wherein he claimed to have been “pursued” by something within the water—not by boat nor beast, but by the very semblance of himself, distorted and wet-eyed, “as though drowning in a pane of blackened glass.”
General Macomb, though skeptical, ordered my immediate departure. I am to assess the truth of Wetherill’s report, for if the British are engaging in some stratagem of deception—lantern signals, optical trickery, or a ruse to unsettle our couriers—it must be known and countered.
I go armed, though I confess an unaccustomed diffidence in the undertaking.
June 14, 1811 – Four Corners, Chateaugay Lake
Arrived by horseback at Four Corners near eventide. The lake, several miles southward, being vast and still, bore none of the spectral agitation Private Wetherill described, yet I observed at once an uncommon slickness upon the water, a sheen without wind, like oil dispersed upon glass. I took lodging at the home of one Nathaniel Drew, a trapper of advanced years, who, upon hearing my purpose, grew exceedingly reluctant in speech, though he finally muttered the following:
“You see yourself upon the lake at dusk, Lieutenant, do not linger. A man’s reflection here ain’t like the Lord intended—it stirs wrong, as though it had been cast into the water and would rather crawl out again.”
This was delivered with the weary surety of one who does not seek to persuade, but merely to warn.
June 15, 1811 – Chateaugay Lake, Midnight
Determined to observe directly, I took position upon a promontory overlooking the water. A half-moon above afforded sufficient light, though the surface remained peculiarly featureless, absorbing all as a voided mirror.
At length, I perceived disturbance. Not ripples, but something just beneath, moving without sound or evident propulsion. It did not break the surface, but I saw its form reflected in the water—a shadow within a shadow, long and serpentine, as though the lake itself sighed and twisted.
Then—I write this with careful measure—my own reflection, cast downward upon the lake, ceased to move with me.
I turned my head. It did not.
The sensation was that of catching another’s gaze through a doorway left ajar—an intrusion, intimate and wholly wrong. I remained fixed, breath held, staring into the lake’s reflection, and it was then that I discerned what Private Wetherill had feared most:
The eyes in the water were my own, but drowned.
No bubbles rose, no struggle disturbed the lake’s mirror, yet my likeness there gaped—its mouth opening wide in a soundless scream, as though it sought to expel some desperate, choking thing from within.
I confess a lapse in discipline. I turned from the water at once.
Behind me, there came a great, wet sound, like a sodden thing dragged from the depths.
I did not look back.
June 16, 1811 – Departure from Chateaugay Lake
Dawn found me restless and much altered. I rode without delay for Plattsburgh, though I avoided the lake road entirely. No man should see his own death waiting for him upon still water.
Nathaniel Drew, upon my departure, offered only this:
“Some things, sir, take notice when a man sees ’em. And once seen—well, they reckon they’re owed a good, long look in return.”
I leave this record for the General’s consideration. It is not my duty to account for the unseen, nor to speculate upon the hunger of reflections. Yet, should Private Wetherill’s fate be questioned, let it be noted that I have not looked into glass, nor still water, since that night.
And I do not intend to.
What mysteries of Chateaugay Lake haunt you?