The wind was blowing at an average of forty miles per hour with gusts of up to sixty miles per hour yet the water on the lake was barely even moving. This added a definite tension to the air that can barely be described with words.

All of the sudden there was a faint drumbeat, not that of a marching band but of a much deeper tone. This drumbeat was not one of celebration; no it was a graver beat, which sounded as if it was keeping an army in step or something along that line. Out of the wind came another sound. This sound more like a tribe dancing around a fire or some drunken Irishmen who thought they could sing. As the sounds grew nearer it started to sound like a chant. Anyone standing there in there right mind would’ve fled as far as possible. Next came a sound that was similar to that of rowing a canoe only thirty times louder.

Then the sound emerged from the darkness, it was a gargantuan boat carrying hundreds of men. There was a shout that sounded somewhat different from the rest. Out of the boat came a great stream of fiery arrows. There was no telling what the men were shooting at until the arrows found their mark.

The Loch Ness monster lit up like a well-decorated Christmas tree and for a moment stood like it was ready to fall. The moment the monster came out of its state of shock it bellowed at the top of its lungs, the noise was so intense the mountains were shuddering for miles. The army of men on the boat kept on moving at the same speed the entire time the monster was bellowing and thrashing around. Then, with an ear-bursting wail the Loch Ness monster disappeared under the water for the final time.

The waters were perfectly still other than the wake of the slow moving boat. The drums and chants became hearable at the exact time the monster submerged under water. A certain calm that was rather relaxing settled over the area. Slowly the sounds of the rowing, drumming and chanting faded away into the dark night.