Only when the mist clears

This was written for a micro-flash fiction contest, that I won by the way. This is the criteria (Your object is a lake. This must appear in your story as a physical lake, not mentioned in thoughts or in speech. Your word is 'mist' this must be included, but can be morphed into 'misty' or 'misting' or demist - anything you like as long as the letters appear in the correct order. The theme for this competition is 'horror,')

Having read a lot of Stephen King etc, I had a pretty good grasp of the genre, but no matter how you slice it, writing a horror story in 200 words is tough. There were a couple of nods of the head to H.P. Lovecraft in there. I took this picture several years ago not too far from where I live, but kind of had it in the back of my mind while  I was writing this. I hope you all enjoy it.

Only when the mist clears

No amount of coffee can keep my eyelids from drooping as the blush of the dawn sky creeps over the horizon. All night I’ve waited, watching the lake. Other than a few loons and the occasional pike snagging a dragonfly everything’s been quiet. I sip the dregs of my thermos as the mist rises from the water. I catch myself nodding, that's why I have the video equipment, it never sleeps. If the thing is out there, I want a record. I nod off for a second and dream of a huge tentacled monster reaching for me, my coffee cup hitting the ground jars me awake. I peer out into the mist, is there something there or just a branch? It seems to be drifting toward me, or is my mind playing tricks on me? Maybe it’s a pike just below the surface. It breaks the water and I see a grey-green tentacle. It shoots past me, grabbing the video equipment dragging it into the lake. Another tentacle grabs me by the feet. I manage to kick off my boots as the sun illuminates the sky and the lake. The last wisps of mist are gone along with the monster.