The morning at the lake seemed like any other. A cold fog still clung to the water’s surface, blurring the outlines of trees on the opposite shore. Not even the birds had started singing yet. Two fishermen — Sergey and Nikolai — had been coming to this abandoned lake for years. It used to be a popular fishing spot, but after a string of strange rumors and several disappearances, most people had stopped coming here. But they kept coming. Because no one else did. And the fish were always big.

An old boat, a frayed fishing net, a thermos of tea, and a metal box for the catch — it was routine. They knew the best fish gathered near the reeds, around the bend where the current slowed down. This time, Sergey cast the net a bit farther than usual, joking that maybe he’d catch a mermaid. Nikolai chuckled. He didn’t know that by the end of the day, he wouldn’t laugh again.

About thirty minutes later, the net jerked. A sharp, almost invisible tug. They both expected fish. Sergey began pulling, but something felt off. Too heavy. No thrashing, no typical resistance. Just a dull, weighty presence. Something was stuck.

A bundle emerged from the water, tangled in the net. At first glance — a bag. Old, soaked cloth, tied with string, stained and torn. Not very big, but unnaturally heavy. Nikolai leaned in to help. Together, they hauled it into the boat. The fabric stretched and something rounded began to show.

It looked like driftwood, covered in moss. But then Nikolai saw something — fingernails. Human fingernails.

He froze. Carefully, almost without breathing, he pulled at the fabric. A hand emerged. Slender, pale, unmistakably human. A woman’s hand. On her finger — a chipped ring with a fake gemstone.

“Oh God,” Sergey whispered and recoiled. The boat fell into dead silence.

This wasn’t garbage. It wasn’t a doll. It was a human body.

They didn’t touch it further. There was no debate. They immediately called the police. As they waited, they sat in stunned silence, processing the horror. Memories of the lake’s dark history crept in.

A year earlier, a young woman had vanished. A local. She was walking home through the woods and never arrived. Her parents raised hell. Volunteers searched for days. Nothing. The case went cold, but rumors lingered. People said weird things happened around the lake. Some claimed to see flashlights in the night. Others heard screams. But no proof ever surfaced.

Until now.

The police arrived quickly. The boat was brought to shore. The bag was taken in for analysis. It didn’t take long — the body was identified as the missing woman. Her family recognized the ring and remnants of her clothing. Forensic tests showed she hadn’t drowned. She’d been strangled. And then dumped into the lake.

Sergey and Nikolai were interrogated. Polygraphs. Reenactments. Everything pointed to one conclusion — it was a tragic, accidental discovery. They had just happened to cast the net in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or maybe… the right place at the right time.

A week later, the lake was sealed off. Divers were brought in. Near the same bend, buried deep in the silt and reeds, they found two more bags. One was empty. The other contained fragments of bones. Authorities began to suspect the lake had been used as a dumping ground. Possibly for years.

The town went into panic. The stories returned — only louder. People swore they saw a woman in white standing knee-deep in the water. Some claimed to hear sobbing coming from the lake at night. Others said you could feel eyes watching you if you got too close.

Sergey and Nikolai never returned. They sold the boat. Gave up fishing. Their faces changed. They avoided interviews, dodged reporters. But anyone who saw them could tell — something inside them broke. That morning rewrote their lives.

Because every time they closed their eyes, they saw it again — that pale hand, rising from the water like a ghost.

And after that day, they never asked each other again, “So… fishing tomorrow?”