The Curse of the Midnight Lake

🌑 The Forbidden Waters

For centuries, Midnight Lake was left untouched. Hunters avoided its misty banks, and fishermen refused to cast their lines near its depths.
But curiosity often outweighs fear.

When a new road to the nearby village was built, the old tales became mere folklore.

One autumn evening, Evelyn Marsh, a young photographer, arrived in Ravenshade. She wanted to capture the haunting beauty of the lake under the full moon.

Locals warned her:

“Never go there after midnight. The lake remembers.”

Evelyn only laughed. She didn’t believe in curses. She believed in light, angles, and perfect shots.

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👁️ The Whisper Beneath the Surface

That night, she set out with her camera. The forest was eerily silent — the kind of silence that presses against your skin.
When she reached the shore, mist drifted across the water like smoke. The moon hung low, casting silver light over the still surface.

She began snapping photos when she heard it — a faint whisper.

“Hello?” she called out.

No reply. Just ripples brushing the rocks.

Then she saw it — a reflection in the water. A woman in a dark gown, her face hidden beneath a veil.

Evelyn turned — no one was there.

When she looked back, the figure remained in the reflection.

“You shouldn’t have come here…”

The voice seemed to rise from the depths below.

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💍 The Legend of the Drowned Bride

The next morning, Evelyn showed the photo to the innkeeper, Mrs. Holloway.
The old woman’s face turned pale.

“That’s her,” she whispered. “The Lady of the Lake — Elara Wren. Drowned on her wedding night a hundred years ago.”

Elara’s groom never arrived. Heartbroken, she walked into the lake wearing her wedding gown, whispering his name. When dawn came, they found her floating, eyes open, smiling faintly.

They buried her by the shore, but each full moon, her spirit returns — searching for the man who betrayed her.

Mrs. Holloway warned,

“Anyone who sees her face is claimed by the lake before the next full moon.”

Evelyn smiled weakly. “It’s just a story.”

But she wasn’t so sure anymore.

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🕳️ The Eyes in the Water

That night, Evelyn couldn’t sleep. The whisper haunted her mind.
At 11:45 p.m., she grabbed her flashlight and returned to the lake.

The air was colder. The fog was thick. The water rippled without wind.

Her reflection changed — her eyes blackened, lips moving on their own.

“Come closer,” it mouthed.

The water began to move like something alive. From its center, the veiled woman rose again, face half-decayed, eyes pale.

“You took my picture,” the ghost hissed.

“Now you’ll join me in the frame.”

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📷 The Disappearance

The next morning, Evelyn’s belongings were found neatly arranged by the shore.
Her camera still worked. The last photo showed the lake glowing faintly as if something burned beneath the water.

When enhanced, two figures appeared — Elara and Evelyn, standing together beneath the surface.

Evelyn Marsh was never found.

Locals rebuilt the fence around the lake and prayed it would sleep once more.

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🌫️ The Photographer’s Return

Years later, a journalist knocked on Mrs. Holloway’s door.
He said he’d bought a camera from an antique shop — one that once belonged to Evelyn Marsh.

He laughed nervously, “Every photo I take has a woman behind me. She’s wearing a veil.”

Mrs. Holloway’s eyes widened.

Before she could speak, a cold wind blew open the door.

A whisper filled the air:

“You shouldn’t have come here…”

The candle went out.

When it flickered back, the journalist was gone — and the door stood open, facing the misty path to Midnight Lake.

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🩶 Epilogue

Some nights, when the moon turns red, locals hear the faint click of a camera shutter echoing across the lake.

If you look closely at the water, they say you’ll see two women — one in white, one holding a camera — staring upward, waiting for the next curious soul.