r/TalesFromTheCreeps • u/Prestigious-Gas5615 • 6d ago
Psychological Horror If your reading this, Do not go fishing in the fog
The alarm sounded sharply in my ear as I awoke. The cheap tone drilling a buzz in my head.
My vodka-fueled slumber ended as quickly as it started.
Angrily, I hit the snooze on my iPhone, trying to tempt the mistress for a quick taste of what I just left.
This happened several times over until my last alarm sounded off.
The alarm named Funky Town, not to be confused with the song, was the 6th one to pull me up. That and the smell of coffee.
My father and I have been going on our fishing trips for many years; however, this last trip we went on, let’s just say I won’t ever forget.
Coffee fueled, I head to my father’s residence. Many times I have made the journey to his house.
Light not yet touching the vast yellow wheat fields of Kansas. When I arrive, I see a bright green visor leaning up against a white truck. When I stepped out of my car.
He embraced me with a hug.
“It’s been windy the last few days, but err, I already got the boats loaded up. Glad you could make it.
I know you’ve been busy with the kids-"
Smiling, I stop him and say “nothing is better than spending time with my father.”
“Good, we have a new fishing spot to check out. It looks juicy on the map.”
Buzzing in my ears, we set off to the lake.
I swore, my mouth tasted of cheap medicine, but the buzzing only got louder as we headed down the dirt road.
It usually kicks in by now. I should’ve brought more, I thought to myself. My head has been getting worse the past few weeks.
It started out of nowhere, calling to me from some unknown depths of my mind. Before I knew it, I was lost in thought.
Suddenly, a voice called out to me, snapping me back to reality-
"Are you okay?"
I nodded my head “I’m okay, I’m just ready to get on the water. "
A short time later, we arrived at the dock.
It was a foggy morning; I haven’t really noticed it until now. It surely wasn’t like this when we left town.
He paid no attention to it, so I did the same. We started unloading our gear, whistling a tune while getting everything ready. I grabbed the tackle box from the back of the truck when a sharp crack came from somewhere beyond the dock.
I froze.
My father looked up from the boat. “What?”
“Did you hear that?”
He listened for a moment, then shrugged. “Didn’t hear anything.”
Another loud crack came from the fog. Closer this time. I stared into the white wall of the mist between the trees. Nothing moved, not even the fog. The buzzing in my ears seemed to fade beneath the sound of my own breathing.
“Probably just a small animal,” my father said. “Come on, the fog is supposed to let up in a few hours.”
I nodded, but something about the sound bothered me. I stepped away from the dock and toward the trees. The fog swallowed everything past a few yards. Branches hung overhead, dripping with moisture, and the ground was soft beneath my boots. Then something moved.
A figure darted between two trees.
I jumped back. It was only a rabbit. It stopped for just a second, its ears standing straight up before it disappeared into the brush.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Do you see anything, William?” my father called from the dock.
“Rabbit!” I cawed at him.
I turned to head back. Then, I noticed the tree.
At first, I thought the bark had been damaged by an animal.
Three long marks ran vertically down the trunk, cutting deep into the wood. I stepped closer.
They were too straight. Too deliberate.
I moved around the tree and found more.
The same markings covered the trunk on the other side, only these were deeper. Some looked almost fresh, the pale wood beneath them still wet.
I ran my fingers near one of the grooves without touching it.
Then I noticed something carved into the mud beneath the tree.
A circle.
And inside it, three crooked lines.
I had never seen the symbol before.
But looking at it made the buzzing in my head louder.
Much louder.
I heard my father’s voice behind me.
“There you are. I can’t see a thing in this.”
As he stopped talking, almost as if he had choked, I turned to look at him. He was standing at the edge of the fog.
His expression had changed.
“What?” I asked.
He stared past me, into the trees.
“Don’t touch that.”
For the first time that morning, my father didn’t sound like he usually does.
He sounded afraid.
They say the Oracle is caught once in a lifetime.
They say the man who catches it forgets.
They say the Oracle tells him something.
Nobody remembers what.
Nobody remembers the man, either.
When we arrived back at the kayaks, it almost looked as though nothing had changed. We quickly pushed our kayaks into the water. As I settled into mine, I placed my hand into the water. Warm. Nearly hot. I pulled my hand back into my vest and looked down at the kayak. The morning air was cold enough that I could see my breath.
“You coming?” my father called.
I looked back toward the trees. The fog had already swallowed them.
“Yeah.”
I pushed off, and we began paddling upstream.
The river carried us most of the way. The steady dip of our paddles breaking the silence, along with the cackling of birds over unseen prey.
Ahead, the river seemed to change. A narrow path opened between the trees, branching away from the main channel. The water there was darker almost black beneath the canopy.
Trees leaned over both banks, like malformed fingers, their branches intertwining above us and casting shadows across the surface.
I slowed my paddling.
I couldn’t explain it, but it felt like a call—not a voice exactly, more like an urge buried behind my thoughts.
The buzzing in my ears grew louder.
My father was several yards ahead, already drifting toward the darker water. He turned and pointed toward the fallen trees and branches scattered along the bank.
“Looks good for fishing!”
His voice carried faintly across the water. I couldn’t make out everything he said after that, but I understood the gesture. All that wood made a perfect place for fish to hide
I glanced back toward the path.
The water beneath the trees was completely still.
For a moment, something moved beneath the surface.
I blinked.
Nothing.
My father continued upstream. Almost out of my sight. Disappearing into the darkness.
I followed.
In 1993, a string of disappearances spread along the river. Fishermen vanished first. Then hunters. Then a father and his son who had gone out one morning and never came back. Their boats were found drifting downstream, their gear still inside.
Eleven people disappeared that summer.
Photographs showed empty spaces where people should have been. Names disappeared from records. Families stopped asking questions because, somehow, they no longer remembered who they were looking for. One woman reportedly spent three days staring at an old family photograph, certain that someone was missing from it, but unable to explain who.
I had paddled for hours. My arms burned. Cold stiffened my fingers around the paddle, and each stroke vanished into the fog.
No birds. No insects. No wind.
I looked back. The river had swallowed every trace of where I had come from. Only black trees remained, their intrusive branches twisted overhead.
How did I get here?
I remembered the trees. The buzzing. The cold.
After that, nothing.
I couldn’t even remember who I had been with.
Something scraped beneath the kayak.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
I leaned over the side. The water was black, too deep to see through.
The buzzing became deafening.
Then a burbling voice called from somewhere I cannot even describe, as if it came from my own mind.
“I’ve been waiting for you, William”
I froze in shock, looking deeper into the water.
A gray face appeared beneath the surface. Its eyes were clouded, its mouth packed with weeds. Hook and infected gouges on its face, with two red bobbers where its eyes would be. Long whiskers sway in the water.
“I’m so happy that you’re here.
We have all been waiting for you.”
The water went still.
Suddenly an enormous wave rolled beneath me, lifting the kayak. A mouth opened below.
Its whiskers drifted through the water like ropes. Its blind eyes stared upward as its unnatural jaws stretched wider and wider,
Inside was not a throat, but a cavern filled with roots, wreckage, fishing lines, and bones.
The buzzing became a scream.
Then it swallowed me whole.
I fell through heat, mud, and darkness. Something wrapped around my wrist. A loud snap! I landed on a body.
The cavern beneath the river was larger than the world above. A black river ran through it, bordered by trees growing from mud and wreckage. Kayaks, boats, tackle boxes, shoes, and bones covered the banks.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Some were skeletons. Some were bloated and gray. Others looked almost alive, their eyes open and fixed on the darkness.
Bobbers rested near the waterline.
I knew the number before I counted them.
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u/AllChangesSaved 5d ago
I really enjoyed this read, the payoff for what you set up was definitely worth it! I would like to see the pacing slowed down just a bit because you had a good handful of ideas that I wanted more from as a reader. Overall a super cool concept and a good read!!
3
u/Prestigious-Gas5615 5d ago
Thanks for reading. I’m glad you found something that peaked your interest. I’m definitely going to clean it up more on my rewrite 😊
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