3 Very Scary TRUE Fishing Horror Stories

# The Silent Lake

The lake sat in a deep, remote forest, surrounded by towering pines that cast long, dark shadows over the still water. A thin layer of mist drifted across the surface, making the lake look like a mirror reflecting the overcast sky. The air was cold and damp, heavy with the scent of wet earth and moss. Everything was eerily quiet—no birds, no rustling leaves, just an unsettling silence.

The old wooden dock stretched out into the water, its planks creaking under the slightest weight, weathered from years of exposure. The shoreline was rocky and overgrown with tangled weeds, giving the place a forgotten, almost lifeless feel. The entire scene felt frozen in time, as if the world around the lake had stopped moving, trapped in an eerie stillness.

# The Ripple in the Lake

I went to a remote lake cabin for some peaceful fishing, expecting nothing but calm. But as the sun set, I hooked something massive. It pulled me deeper into the lake, too strong for any normal fish. Suddenly, the line went slack, but a dark ripple started following my boat, something huge just beneath the surface.

Panicking, I rowed back, but it kept coming. Just as I reached the shore, something hit the boat hard. Then I saw it—pale, slimy hands reaching up from the water. A creature, human-like but monstrous, stared at me with cold, black eyes. I swung my knife, stabbing its hand, and it vanished without a sound.

Shaken, I rushed back to the cabin and locked the door, my mind racing. The next morning, I fled, but as I left, I glimpsed another ripple in the lake, moving toward the shore.

# The Depths

The lake was quiet, surrounded by mist as I cast my line, enjoying the peaceful isolation. I felt a strong tug, more powerful than any fish I’d ever caught. The line yanked hard, nearly pulling me overboard. My boat started moving toward the center of the lake, dragged by something unseen below the surface.

Panic set in. I fought to cut the line, but the force was relentless. Finally, the line snapped, and I collapsed, gasping for air. Instead of fleeing, I foolishly cast again. The tug returned, softer this time. As I reeled it in, I leaned over the boat to see the catch.

A pale hand broke the surface, gripping my line.

It wasn’t a fish.

A waterlogged body, its eyes wide open, stared blankly as it emerged from the depths. I froze, paralyzed with fear. Slowly, it sank back into the water, leaving nothing but ripples.

I rowed to shore as fast as I could and left the lake behind. But sometimes, in the dead of night, I still see that hand reaching up from the water, and I know it’s still down there, waiting.

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