She Lives Under the Lake

I. The Silent Lake

When I booked the wooden cabin near the unnamed lake, I was only looking for peace.

Tired of the city, heartbreak, deadlines, I needed isolation. The listing had no reviews, no pictures, just a single sentence:

“Perfect for the ones who want to disappear.”

I laughed when I read it.

I wasn’t laughing when I arrived.

The lake was unlike any I’d seen — wide, completely still, surrounded by thick pine trees that leaned toward it like they were bowing. The water was black even in daylight. It absorbed sunlight, like ink.

The caretaker gave me one warning when handing me the key:

“Don’t look at the lake after dark.”

I asked why.

“Because she looks back.”

II. The First Night

That night, I couldn’t sleep. A strange humming came from outside. Not music, not wind — something between a woman’s voice and the rustling of trees underwater.

Curiosity won.

I stepped out of the cabin and walked to the edge of the lake.

There, under the moonlight, just beneath the surface —

I saw her.

A pale figure, floating face-up, white eyes wide open, long black hair swirling like ink. Her hands were folded over her chest, and her lips moved, as if silently mouthing my name.

I ran back inside. My chest pounding. My hands shaking.

I convinced myself it was a reflection. Or exhaustion.

But in the mirror above my bed — her face was there too.

III. The Locals’ Secret

I went to the nearest village the next day. Showed a local shopkeeper a sketch I drew of the woman.

The shopkeeper turned pale and muttered something in Pashto before calling an older man from the back room.

The elder stared at the drawing and finally said:

“That’s the lake’s wife.”

“They say her husband drowned her on their wedding night. He confessed it just before taking his own life. They never found her body. Only the veil.”

“She’s still waiting for someone… or something.”

IV. Every Night, Closer

Each night after that, the dreams got worse.

In the first, I saw her floating.

The next, she was standing on the dock.

The next, she was in the hallway of my cabin — her feet dripping water, her veil dragging like seaweed.

By the fifth night, I woke up to find wet footprints all around my bed.

By the sixth, the footprints were on the ceiling.

V. Drowning Awake

One morning, I woke up choking — coughing out a mouthful of lake water. I hadn’t even gone near it.

I found a red bridal veil hanging on my door.

That night, I tried to leave. I packed everything and got into my car.

But the road led nowhere.

No matter how far I drove, I’d always end up at the same fork — left to the lake, right to the cabin.

Like the world was caught in a circle.

VI. Her Message

The next night, the fog was thick.

I sat on the dock, defeated, eyes closed, breath shallow.

Then I heard her.

Not in my mind — in my ears.

“He left me... but you won’t.”

“You will stay... until you drown.”

I turned and saw her standing behind me.

Water dripped from her mouth. Her white eyes were no longer distant — they were locked onto mine.

And then she smiled.

VII. The Final Morning

I don’t remember falling asleep.

But I woke up floating on the lake.

Not in a boat — just my body, gently rocking on the surface. The fog covered everything. I was in the middle.

Far across the water, I saw her sitting on the dock. Wearing the veil. Still watching me.

And then she raised her hand…

And I began to sink.

Not fast — slowly, like I belonged to the water.

VIII. If You Find This

I don’t know how this journal will reach you.

But if it does, listen carefully.

If you ever see a lake that doesn't reflect the sky...

If you hear your name whispered in the water...

If a red bridal veil appears where it shouldn’t...

Leave. Burn it. Run.

Because she doesn’t choose everyone.

But once she chooses you...

You’ll never live above water again.