The lake was flat and calm, with barely a ripple. Its dark waters
glistening, reflecting the moonlight as though it were a mirror. Fritz
Marschall knew that neither he, nor his friend, should really have been
there. They, like many others before them, had been attracted to the
lake by the many rumors that had been circulating. He thought of the
endless stories there had been, of treasures sunken in, or buried around
the lake. He recalled the stories of the lake being used to develop
torpedoes and rockets during the war. Looking out across the dark water,
he wondered what secrets were hidden beneath the surface.
