Beneath the murky waters of Harker Lake, a curse hung thick, swallowing the life of anyone foolish enough to disturb its quiet, oppressive depths. It was said to be the grave of a young woman, a girl named Eliza.
How she died was unclear. Some claimed she had drowned, others swore that she had been killed by something unseen, something darker than the waters themselves. But all who lived near the lake knew one thing: she wasn't gone.
Eliza's spirit had never left.
A few miles from the lake, there was a small cabin. Inside it, alone, sat Jonathan, an eager but naive college student in his early twenties. His field of study was folklore, and he had heard all the rumors about the lake, about Eliza.
They intrigued him. It was the perfect opportunity to explore, to dive into something he could write about, something that might secure him a place in the academic world. He didn't care about the warnings. Old superstitions were meaningless to him.
One evening, after days of studying maps and gathering rumors, he decided it was time. He made his way down the narrow, dirt path toward the lake with a heavy pack on his back. It was late autumn, and the woods were silent, as if even nature itself was waiting for something.
The sky hung low and gray, casting everything in a sickly hue, and there was a chill in the air that Jonathan couldn't quite ignore.
The lake was eerily still, its surface like a sheet of glass, reflecting nothing but the heavy clouds above. As he stood at the water's edge, his boots sinking slightly in the muddy earth, Jonathan felt a strange unease creep into his chest. There was something about the way the lake stretched out, so calm yet so heavy, as if it were waiting. For what, he didn't know.
He didn't see her at first.
The fish that lived in Harker Lake weren't ordinary. They were known to be larger, darker, and colder than any others in the region. Locals avoided them, saying they were tainted, that the lake was cursed. But Jonathan had a plan.
He had brought a small boat, a net, and a camera. He would capture the truth, and prove the legends wrong.
He pushed the boat out onto the water, feeling the weight of it as it moved away from the shore. The oars creaked in protest, but he paddled forward, heading toward the center of the lake. The further he went, the quieter the world around him became. No birds, no wind, just the soft splash of the oars against the water.
His mind began to drift. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe Eliza was more than a ghost, more than a legend. But then, a sudden disturbance. The water below him rippled, and he froze, his breath caught in his throat.
A shape, massive and dark, emerged from beneath the boat. Jonathan's heart hammered against his chest as he leaned over the edge to peer into the water.
A fish. A massive one. Its scales gleamed in the dim light, but what truly caught Jonathan's eye was the face. It wasn't a fish's face at all. It was a woman's face, pale and distorted, her eyes wide with an eternal terror that seemed to reach out from the depths of the lake itself. Her mouth opened, releasing bubbles that drifted upward, as if she were trying to speak, to scream.
Jonathan recoiled, pulling the oars in his hands and quickly paddling back toward the shore. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands trembling as he fought to control the boat. He couldn't make sense of what he had just seen. It wasn't possible. He had to have imagined it, right?
But as the boat neared the shore, a shadow passed just below him, faster than any fish could swim. His breath hitched, and he stopped paddling, staring down at the water, waiting for something to happen.
And then it did.
From the depths, the woman's face emerged again, but this time, her body followed. Her form was all twisted, her skin a sickly gray, her limbs impossibly long and malformed. She moved with a fluidity that was unnatural, like something not quite human. The water around her churned, and Jonathan felt a cold hand grasp the edge of his boat.
He screamed.
The woman's face twisted in anguish as her fingers gripped the side of the boat, pulling herself closer. Her hair, dark and stringy, swirled around her head like ink in water.
"I… I can't leave," her voice wasn't a whisper, but the very air itself seemed to carry it. Her mouth never moved. "I can't… ever leave."
Jonathan's heart raced, his mind blank. He grabbed the oars and swung them at her, but she didn't recoil. She didn't move at all. Her empty eyes stared at him, hollow and dead. Then, with a sickening lurch, she let go of the boat and disappeared back into the water.
Jonathan's body was numb. His instincts told him to run, but his mind was paralyzed, his body stuck in place as he stared into the depths, waiting. Waiting for something to happen.
The lake wasn't done with him yet.
As the moon climbed higher in the sky, the water around him seemed to grow colder. The surface of the lake was now a dull, metallic gray, the ripples from the wind now making their way across it. Jonathan's breathing grew shallow, his heartbeat quickened. The boat rocked gently.
And then, just beneath the surface, a shape began to rise. It wasn't a fish, it wasn't a woman, not anymore. It was something else, something… ancient. A twisted amalgamation of both, an entity forged in darkness and bound by a curse far older than he could comprehend.
The thing that had once been Eliza.
Her face was gone, replaced by something far more terrible, a gaping hole where her eyes should have been, a mouth stretched wide with black, tar-like substance leaking from it. Her body writhed in unnatural motions as she rose from the water, an almost serpentine slither dragging her closer to the boat.
Jonathan tried to push away, but his hands betrayed him. His fingers slipped on the oars, and he fell back into the boat, his eyes wide as the figure approached.
"I will never leave," she repeated, her voice a rasp, distorted by the water, yet clear. "I will never leave."
Jonathan screamed, but it was no use. The thing was already too close. Her fingers, long and twisted, reached up and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him toward the depths. The coldness of her grip sunk into his bones, freezing his muscles, making it impossible for him to fight back. His breath was stolen from him as she dragged him closer, and he could feel the water rising around him, feel the weight of it crushing his chest.
He felt something shift beneath him, a terrible pull that made him want to scream, but his voice had died in the pit of his stomach. The woman, if she had ever been a woman at all, opened her mouth, revealing rows of jagged, sharp teeth.
And then, he was underwater.
Everything around him was black, the world above him fading away. The last thing he felt was the sharp sting of the cold water as it filled his lungs. It was the sensation of drowning, but not like the drowning of a normal human.
It was worse. Far worse. Because as his body was pulled further into the abyss, he realized with horrible clarity that Eliza's curse had claimed him. He was no longer simply dying. He was becoming one with the lake.
He had become the fish.