Our Group

The fading late summer sun retreated, leaving the forest exposed and vulnerable to the lake effect chill. The golden glow of sunset painted a picturesque landscape that made Governer’s Point the most famous lake town in the state. The residents took full advantage of the topography and spent their summer days splashing in the river or taking in the breeze on the sailboats. The restaurants marketed themselves to hungry tourists and faithful residents. They never missed the opportunity to pay homage to the lake that gave them business and the interior and menu reflected that. Governor’s Point was far enough from the the Big City to benefit from quiet nights and peaceful mornings but also welcome high-profile figures. A number of politicians, celebrities and famous personalities residing in the town or frequented it for their shopping and dining expenditures.

On the last Sunday before the children had to return to school four boys stumbled upon a structure that could not be explained in their text books. It was an imposing triangle figure that stood about as tall as a convenient store and as wide as a parking lot. The most curious thing about the entire encounter was that none of the four boys could remember the structure before that day, and they had run along those trails many times throughout the summer. They had not seen construction or heard any work being done, perhaps it was a prop from one of the local camps, that is what they figured.

“Is there a door?” The first boy wondered as he studied the charcoal gray structure.
“I don’t know but it is ugly. Look at it.” The second boy grimaced while pointing at the
“It has to be cult related.” The third boy commented, he was the bookish one of the
“You think everything is cult related.” The fourth boy responded while rolling his eyes.
“Because it is! The recent increase in the median income in Governer’s Point has
attracted a lot of fat cats and with fat cats come structured organizations for their own gain.” The third boy explained like he was narrating a soap opera over the radio in the 1940s.
“I don’t see a door, let’s just go home before some old dude comes running out from the trees with a shot gun.” The first boy half-joked.
“Maybe we should call the police?” The second boy suggested, tension growing in his muscles with each second passing by.
“No police! They’re just jerks in uniforms.” The first boy spat.
“You can do whatever you want but I’m going to the police, what if somebody gets
hurt?” the second boy started up the hill, and the third and fourth boy followed.
“You’re all a bunch of chumps.” The first boy continued down the forest path and reached the doorstep of his home, leaving the encounter with the triangle structure in his memory, a story to tell his classmates in the cafeteria in the coming school year.

To Be Continued......