May 12

He paused at the lake’s edge, facing the water. “All right,” he said, “let’s see what you’ve got.”
The water, which had up to that point been stirred only by the wind, began to bubble and roil. As the furious frothing spread to every corner of the lake, the centre of the water swelled alarmingly, shedding foam and weed left and right. The glassy greenish-black swell broke in a phenomenal surge of flying arms and suckers and tentacles that reared up against the sky before crashing down to the surface, scattering droplets everywhere. The tentacles reared up again, making snatching motions at the clouds, before finally smashing to a halt just shy of where John stood.
He grinned. “Now that,” he said, “is a lot more like it. Nice job, you.”
One of the tentacles lifted from the water and waved cheerfully before the squid dove back into the lake’s depths.