Shadow #6

Samuel had been a fisherman since he was a boy. He had spent his entire life by the lake, providing for his family with the catch from its calm, cold waters. But the lake had a reputation: the locals called it the "Lake of Shadows." Stories of strange occurrences circulated through the village, but Samuel paid no attention to superstitions. He considered them nonsense and continued fishing.

One evening, as the sun set and the lake became a mirror of dark golden light, Samuel decided to stay out longer than usual. The water was still, and the conditions were perfect for fishing. He cast his line, watching it disappear into the depths. The air was quieter than usual—no wind, no birds. Just an eerie, motionless silence.

The first tug on the line made his heart jump. He reeled it in, expecting a big catch. But instead of glistening silver scales, he pulled up a skeleton—a set of white, perfectly stripped fish bones. Samuel recoiled, confused and stunned. The skeleton swayed on the hook as shadows in the water, dark and indistinct, slowly swam toward the center of the lake, as if fleeing.

“Maybe just a coincidence,” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore the chill running down his spine. He cast his line again.

A few moments later, the same thing happened. The line tightened, he reeled it in, and another fish skeleton emerged from the water. This time, shadows appeared—elongated, almost humanoid forms swimming just beneath the surface. They remained still for a moment, as though watching him. Samuel dropped the skeleton onto the floor of the boat, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. “Fish die, it’s natural,” he murmured, but panic laced his voice.

Determined not to give up, he cast his line a third time, defiantly. The tug on the line was the strongest yet. He pulled with all his might, and the largest fish skeleton he had ever seen erupted from the water. Its empty eye sockets seemed to stare at him, and the water dripping from it was ice-cold.

This time, the shadows didn’t just swim. They began moving toward the boat. Samuel watched as the dark figures stretched and rose, their outlines becoming clearer. They looked like human shapes, but distorted, with elongated limbs and heads tilted unnaturally to the side. The water remained still, but he could hear faint whispers, as though the shadows were speaking to him in a language he couldn’t understand.

His heart pounded like a drum as he frantically grabbed the oars, rowing away as fast as he could. The shadows followed him, staying just below the surface, their dark forms clearly visible in the moonlight. When he finally reached the shore, he abandoned the boat and ran, never looking back.

That night, Samuel didn’t sleep. The next day, he sold all his fishing gear and swore never to go near the lake again. Villagers often asked him what had happened, but he remained silent, with a vacant look in his eyes and trembling hands.

Until the end of his life, Samuel never told anyone what he had seen that night. But the lake remained the same—calm and still, while the shadows continued to move beneath its surface, waiting for the next fisherman who would ignore their stories.

Years passed, and Samuel's story became another fragment of the lake's eerie legend. The villagers added his silence to the growing collection of warnings about the "Lake of Shadows." Few dared to fish there, and those who did always returned with empty nets, complaining of strange sounds and cold winds that seemed to rise from nowhere.

One particularly daring fisherman, a young man named Elias, dismissed the tales as superstitions, much like Samuel once had. He ventured out one moonless night, determined to catch what others could not. The villagers warned him, but Elias laughed, calling them foolish.

When dawn broke, Elias’s boat was found adrift near the shore. His fishing gear was untouched, but Elias was nowhere to be seen. On the floor of the boat lay a single, massive fish skeleton, its empty sockets pointed toward the village.

After that, the lake grew even quieter. Locals began to notice that the shadows under the surface seemed closer to the shore than before, as if the lake was growing hungrier. On particularly still nights, they swore they could hear whispers carried on the breeze, faint and chilling, calling for those brave—or foolish—enough to answer.

The lake remained undisturbed for years, but the stories continued to grow. It was said that anyone who stared too long at the water might see their own reflection fade, replaced by a shadowy figure with hollow eyes, waiting patiently for them to step closer. And when the villagers walked past on moonlit nights, they would sometimes see a lone boat drifting in the distance, its occupant a motionless figure surrounded by shadows.