Night Fishing Terror

First let me tell you a few things about me. I am a Man of God although when this story took place I wasn’t a Christian. I have also spent twenty four years in the outdoors, hunting, fishing, camping, and hiking. I am twenty eight so that’s a lot of time in the wilderness. I’m the guy everyone says that when the zombies come it’s my house they are going too. I know how to live off the land and know how to survive disasters that could happen. Part of being in the outdoors for as long as I have been is you see a lot of things most people don’t get to. I’ve seen some of the most beautiful sunsets and sunrises from being an avid fisherman and hunter.
However you also see things at the opposite end of that spectrum. I’ve witnessed predators hunting, people get hurt, and the downright scary. Growing up my whole life in Northwestern PA it was interesting to say the least. When you throw outdoorsman into the mix you get a brand new mix. I’ve seen a lot that Science refuses to admit is real. From the monster of Lake Eire to my favorite catfish hole being a UFO hotspot. Now with all that while creepy, the events of one July evening at Geneva Swamp take the cake.

About three or four years ago I had a few days off work. So my buddy Tyler and I had made a plan to do an all day fishing trip to Geneva. We had it set, bait, snacks, and drinks. We had our poles and tackle boxes packed up the night before. The weather called for warm and sunny day with a light wind. Any fisherman knows it’s a good day for fishing. Not to hot, cause if it is the fish won’t bite. If it’s too cold the fish are harder to catch because they are sluggish and not to mention very uncomfortable for you no matter if it’s hot or cold.

We arrived at Custards Bridge, for everyone who isn’t familiar with the area, it used to be an old steel bridge. It’s on a small back road called Mercer Pike. It’s an outflow to one of the small rivers in the county called French Creek. Geneva Swamp itself is the largest in Crawford county. It spans from Conneaut Lake PA all the way to Mercer Pike. Just about 5-10 miles. The swamp itself is beyond mysterious. There are three bridges that go over it. I-79 is one of the main highways in PA. There is also Snake Road bridge. These two bridges are floating bridges. The story goes that when they were building the interstate over the swamp they couldn’t find the bottom. They dropped cars, a railroad car, and a crane at full extension into the swamp. Never once did any of them reach the bottom.

Within the past few years a barrel was spat back out by the swamp. It was an old pickle barrel. It was about a hundred and twenty years old. When it was opened there was a skeleton in it with a lone bullet hole in the head. The swamp holds onto what it’s given for a very long time. There are many stories concerning that swamp, all of which are creepy. My friend and I are adding to that list.

After nearly fishing all day Tyler and I had three full stringers. One was covered in pan fish which are frail compared to the others we had so we had to give them their own stringer. On another we had several Bowfin. They are ugly as sin and many natives of the area hate them. They kill them and throw them onto the bank. Tyler and I fall into the small percentile that actually eat these prehistoric fish. They are on par with catfish let me tell you that. On our final stringer we had Pike and bass. Overall it was a good day’s haul. We had enough that the next day we were going to have a fish fry.

As dusk approached we moved to the other side of the bridge where we could fish the open swamp. That was our first mistake. We dipped the fish into the water, rigged up our bait, got situated in our chairs, and cast our rods. We caught several more bowfin. There was a man on the other side of the outflow from us. He stuck around to watch the sunset. Once it was done he left. Tyler and I were the only ones left at that fishing hole. An hour or two into the darkness and we only caught two more fish. Then the weirdness started.

As I mentioned before there was little to no wind that day. So we were both taken by surprise when a mist just appeared around us. There was no moon that night so the mist made it even harder to see. Part of being in the outdoors your whole life is your senses are heightened in the dark. However this mist made my outdoors training non effective. The mist around us was thick but behind us we could see. It was like the mist was focused only in that one spot, the spot we were fishing. That’s when I heard it, a woman’s scream.

It was about a hundred yards or so away from us. Over by his car. I turned to Tyler. “Dude did you hear that?” I asked looking at him.

“What?” He asked looking at me.

“I swear I heard a woman scream” I said looking back in the direction of the scream.

“You sure it wasn’t an animal?” He asked looking at me.

I looked back at him. “In all my years in the outdoors I’ve never heard an animal make a perfect human scream” I said.

Both of us started to develop a feeling of being watched. We were looking around, expecting to see something or someone come out of the mist. I had my hunting knife with me and he had a filet knife. I felt uneasy not having a gun with me like I do during hunting season. I could feel eyes on me, I just couldn’t pinpoint where exactly.

“Clayton, look” Tyler said making me look to him. He pointed behind us and I turned to look. In a wooded lot on the other side of the road we saw a flash. There were bright flashes moving through the woods. Never in the same place twice. They were moving in our direction. I looked back to Tyler who looked at me.

“I think we caught enough fish don’t you?” I asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Yup” he said, both of us getting up quickly.

We reeled our rods up quickly, grabbed our equipment and chairs. We moved quickly up a hill and jumped the guardrail. Once on the road Tyler started moving quickly. I paused, looking towards the flashes. That was another mistake cause I heard the scream again. This time it was close. I white knuckled my knife as I started moving quickly towards his car. I felt a heavy presence nearby making me stop once I got to the car. Once I did I noticed two things. One there was no sounds, no frogs, owls, nighthawks, geese, or even crickets. Two the mist was around the bridge that was it. One large ball of mist. In the mist I saw a female figure, just the outline and shadow. She was looking at us. I saw her and watched as the mist was swept away by an unseen force. Once it was gone so was the figure and with it the swamp came to life with the creatures of the night.
To this day both Tyler and I won’t fish Geneva Swamp after dark. We’ll stick around and watch the sun go down but once it does we pack up and we’re gone. I talked to a friend of ours who has lived around that swamp his whole life. He’s seen similar events, he thinks it might have something to do with a woman who might have been killed out there and her body was never found. I think it might be a demon, one trying to hide itself with the local lore of the area. One thing is sure God was looking out for us that day. That and Geneva Swamp is out of the question when the sun goes down for now on.

Fishing with a serial killer

This story didn’t happen to me, it happened to my father when he was in high school in the late 70’s. He was, and still is, an avid fisher, hunter, hiker, etc. At the time this took place, he was ice fishing with a few close friends at a lake in southern Wisconsin. Every time he recounts this story to me, he get this look of disgust on his face, less like he remembers the fear, and more like he’s ready throw up at the thought it. The rest will be from his perspective.

We were out on the lake, it was cold. A few of the guys just walked back to the car to get some things, and it was just me Bruno. We were minding our own business when this older man walked out of the woods. He was sort of chubby, and big, and he had a creepy smile. We didn’t think anything of it, we were raised to be polite, so we struck up a conversation.

He said he’d been fishing too, and wasn’t catching much. He asked if we wanted a drink, said he had some at his camp. We told him we had our own and we were okay.

Then he asked us if he could hang out with us a bit longer. We thought it was odd, especially because he was so much older than us, and he was alone. He continued to talk to us, and even drank some of our beer. Then he asked if we’d come over for dinner at his place. This is where red flags popped up. We turned him down, told him we had plans, and eventually he left. All this took place when there were only two of us on the lake.

I would have forgotten the whole thing. He was just another strange creepy older man, who needed someone to talk to. Until a few months later when I saw him on the news. He was the Killer Clown, according to the news report. None other than John Wayne Gacy. Thinking back on it now, I’d hate to imagine what he would’ve done if we’d taken him up on his offer. I’m just glad he rotted in jail.

 

Scoutmaster’s Voice

I am an eagle scout in Ohio, and I do a lot of camping most of the camp outs I go fishing on because it gets me away from the younger scouts. So when this all happened I was at peace until it all went to hell.

The trip was reasonably peaceful, we ate played capture the flag etc, etc. The everyone went to bed exept me I decided to go night fishing with a buddy. So about midnight we head out to a lake about a mile and a half away from the campsite. Thinking nothing of it this seemed routine to us. When we got there we were greeted by the usual crickets frogs and such and we were there for about 45 minutes until this started happening…

First everything went dead quiet, which when you are also an avid Hunter you know this is a bad sign. We start to get a bit of the heebe jeebes of course at that moment we decided to go back to camp. Now this is where things get freaky.

A screech sound kinda wailed across the lake as we heard branches breaking and sounds from across the lake and making it’s way around fast. Now both me and him know animal calls and this was no animal we imediatly drew out pocket knives. Which wasn’t going to help much because we were 15 year old boys. We looked around for a place to hide we found one of those stationary latrines with a door almost cut off exept for a plexj glass window. We book it for the latrine.

We hunker down and get really quiet. We hear noises just outside on the lake. Now me being me and being very curios it got the best of me and I look out of the window and I saw the scariest thing in my life. It was very pale, skinny like home skinny, and it had long arms and claws at the end. It seems it must have sensed it was being watched because it turned around and locked eyes with me. I slide back down and we lock the latrine door. Next thing we know there is scratching at the door and neither of us dared look out there. Until it said something. “SCOUTS what are you doing in the latrine?” It sounded like my scoutmaster but it wasn’t it was like it was twisted and distorted. The whole night we were tortured by this thing.

When dawn came about 9:30 we came out with all of the color drained from our faces. We went back to camp and swore not to tell anyone. It was only recently after we were doing some research on native American legends that we figured out it was a wendigo. So we divided everytime we go fishing to bring out hatchets and machetes as well. The dark half of me wanta to see this thing again and this time face it. See if it really is non killable.

But still to this day, both of our fishing poles were gone when we came out. We still have no idea what happened to them.

Happy nightmares.

It wasn’t a Gar

This occurred in 2007, when I was 9 years old. My family has always been very outdoorsy, and that summer my dad, my two brothers, Luke and Owen, ages 15 and 12 respectively, and I had gone camping at a site in Virginia. For the life of me, I can’t remember its name.

We spent the first few days doing normal touristy stuff like canoeing, hiking and fishing. On the morning of the fourth day, my brothers and I woke early with the intent of going for an early morning swim. There was a large lake just out of eyesight of our tent, and after wolfing down a quick breakfast, we put on our swim trunks and set off. Luke had brought his fishing pole, since there was a large fishing pier at the lake.

Two other people were already fishing there by the time we arrived, a man in his fourties and his son, who looked to be about 14. Upon seeing us, the boy rose to his feet and said, “I wouldn’t swim there if I were you. There’s a lot of Gar around, and they can really cut you up.” I glanced over at Owen, who shrugged, and, in his typical reckless fashion, dove in headfirst. Not wanting to be left out, I jumped in after him, while Luke sat down next to the boy and began to set up his pole. We had been swimming for around fifteen minutes, drifting gradually farther and farther out. The water was very deep there, at least twenty feet; but we weren’t worried, since Owen and I were both on the swim team back home.

I was swimming underwater, eyes closed, enjoying the cool water when a hand closed around my ankle. My eyes shot open and I yanked my leg back, trying to get Owen to let go of me. His hand held on tightly, and, annoyed, I turned to push him away, and that was when I saw it. The thing had long, bluish green hair that billowed out around it, eyes that were entirely black, long legs with wide, webbed feet, scaly green skin and skeletally thin arms ending in long, many fingered hands with thin, hooked claws like a cat’s.

As I watched, the thing opened its mouth, baring rows of tiny, razor-sharp teeth, and pulled me down deeper into the shadowy depths below. My instincts kicked in and I kicked the thing in the face with my free foot. It opened its hideous mouth again, and, with a wordless scream, it raked its claws down my leg. Pain radiated from the cuts, blood turning the water red, and I realized that I couldn’t fight this thing. My head spun, my vision blurred. “I’m drowning,” I realized. I closed my eyes, and that was when I felt strong hands gripping my arms and pulling me back up to the surface.

Gasping and coughing I emerged, Owen and Luke grasping my arms and pulling me to shore. My leg was searing with pain, and I could see that there were long, deep cuts from where the thing had grabbed me. Luke and Owen carried me back to the campsite and woke up my dad, who took me to the ER. My leg was fine, and I didn’t end up needing stitches, but to this day, I still have the scars from the event.

They told me later that when I hadn’t come back up, Luke had got worried and he and Owen had come looking for me. They said that when they found me, something shot away through the water at top speed, and before they had gotten a good look at it, it was gone. I told everyone about the thing, but of course no one believed me. They dismissed it as my imagination and decided it must have been one of the Gar the boy warned us about earlier, but I know better. If anyone knows what the thing I saw might have been, I’d love to hear it.