Every region of the world with a landlocked body of water (and many that don’t) has a legend of a Lady of the Lake
The one I know tells the story of a woman who drowned in White Rock Lake wearing a wedding gown that’s dripping water.
A old friend of mine (who shall go nameless because he'd strangle me, even though we haven't seen each other in thirty-five years) told me the following story.
Rock, I swear this happened. Me and Kevin were driving around White Rock Saturday night and Kev snapped his head around.
“Oh, my God, there she is!” he said.
I didn't know what-the-hell he was talking about. “There who is?"
I tried turning my head around to see, but damn near drove off the road.
"You're f**king with me."
"I swear to God I'm not!"
Rock, I didn't believe a word of it. I just laughed. “Where is she now?”
“Floating toward us. Step on it. She’s gaining!”
Hell, he was so agitated his own jumpiness made my heart just about beat its way through my ribs.
Then he grabbed my arm, and screamed, "GO!"
The road around the lake featured twists and turns, and I took my old car right to the edge. Kev'd just about flew out of his skin.
“She’s in the car! She’s in the car! Oh sh*t, she’s in the back seat of the damn car!” He ducked down in the foot well, covering his head, and started moaning, Rock. He was moaning. I didn’t dare look around.
I’d reached Garland Road by this point, and floored it until I managed to find streetlights. I pulled over, stopped the car and turned around.
I was so f**king pissed. I tapped my buddy on the shoulder. “What were you pulling on me?”
He looked up, and his eyes spelled out fear. “Man, I swear she was in the back seat, right behind you.”
Rock, I got out of the car and opened the rear door.
The seat shined.
I put my hand on it, and oh, God, it was soaking wet. F**king soaking wet!
I told my buddy that he was the victim of a brilliant joke.
He shook his head. "Never once did he laugh, or say 'Gotcha.' Never told anyone about it and begged me not to."
I continued to believe he'd been had ... until two years later when my mother adopted Mr. Scott.
If you like, here's an account of the Lady of the Lake ... White Rock style.