THE ECHOES BENEATH BLACKWATER(An original thriller story — approx. 5,200+ words)CHAPTER 1 — THE CALLThe phone rang at 2:13 a.m.,

THE ECHOES BENEATH BLACKWATER(An original thriller story — approx. 5,200+ words)CHAPTER 1 — THE CALLThe phone rang at 2:13 a.m., the kind of hour when no good news travels. Daniel Mercer jolted awake, his heart already thudding before he grabbed the phone from the nightstand.“Mercer,” he mumbled, throat dry.A pause. Then a trembling whisper:“Danny… they found something at Blackwater Lake. You need to come.”His sister’s voice—Elena. And she was terrified.Daniel sat up fully, sleep gone. “Elena? What are you doing near Blackwater? What’s going on?”Another pause. Heavy breathing.“They found one of Dad’s journals.”Daniel felt his pulse freeze.“Impossible,” he said automatically. “Dad’s been gone for seven years. Everything was buried with the investigation—”“No,” she interrupted sharply. “Someone dug it up, Danny. And they left a message. For you.”Daniel swung his legs off the bed. “Where are you?”“I’m at Ranger Station Three, near the lake. Daniel… hurry. Please.”The line cut abruptly.Daniel stared at the dark screen, the unease in him blooming into dread. He hadn’t spoken to Elena in nearly a year. Not since she quit her job, sold most of what she owned, and vanished into the rural wilderness around Blackwater—obsessing over the truth behind their father’s disappearance.The official story claimed Dr. Adrian Mercer, renowned climatologist, had drowned after his boat overturned in a sudden storm. But his children knew better.Their father never went near water voluntarily.Daniel threw on clothes, grabbed his keys, and was out the door in minutes.Blackwater Lake was waiting—and it never gave anything back without taking something first.CHAPTER 2 — BLACKWATER LAKEThe drive took three hours, all of them spent battling intrusive memories.His father’s face—stern but soft around the eyes.His uncharacteristic panic in the weeks before he vanished.The journal entries written in code.Warnings about “the hum beneath the lake.”The way he kept saying: If I disappear, don’t look for me.Daniel clenched the wheel harder.The sky was still dark when he entered Blackwater Forest, the tall pines crowding the road, their branches clawing at the early morning fog. The lake was a mile ahead, though he couldn’t see it—no one ever saw it until they were right on top of it. Blackwater was infamous for its unnatural fog patterns, its sound distortions, its disappearances.Daniel slowed near the weather-beaten sign that read:RANGER STATION THREE – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLYOnly one car was parked outside: Elena’s rust-red Subaru.He got out instantly.A chill swept over him—not just cold, but wrong. As though the air was vibrating beneath his skin.He knocked on the station door.“Elena?”No answer.He tried again. Louder.“Elena, it’s me. Open up.”Still nothing.He turned the handle. Unlocked.The inside lights were flickering. The air smelled faintly metallic.“El—”His breath caught.At the center of the room was a table.On the table: a dripping-wet leather journal.His father’s journal.A single piece of paper lay beside it.On it, scrawled in jagged handwriting:HE’S STILL UNDER THERE.Daniel swallowed hard.There should have been relief at seeing the journal. Instead he felt a creeping certainty that something was watching him from just beyond his peripheral vision.“Elena?” he called again, voice lower now.Something creaked in the back room.Daniel moved slowly toward the sound.“Elena… please tell me that’s you.”He pushed open the door.The room was empty.But the window was open, curtains rippling in a cold breeze.Footprints—bare, small—led out into the dirt.They belonged to Elena.And they led directly toward the lake.CHAPTER 3 — THE JOURNALDaniel grabbed the journal and the note and followed the footprints.The woods felt too quiet. No birds, no insects, nothing but a low vibration humming gently in the ground.He reached the lake clearing just as the sun began to lighten the sky. The surface of Blackwater Lake shimmered like oil—still, reflective, unnaturally dark.“Elena!” he shouted.Nothing.He tried again. “Elena!”A ripple suddenly crossed the water.Then another.Slow. Deliberate.As though something massive moved beneath.Daniel stopped at the shoreline, scanning for any sign of her. A shoe. Clothing. Anything.Instead, he spotted a second set of footprints—large, boot-shaped—emerging from the woods, walking right beside Elena’s, and stopping at the lake’s edge.But only one set returned. His sister’s.And she had been running.Daniel’s stomach twisted.He stood at the water’s edge, the fog curling around his ankles like cold fingers.Then he opened the journal.The first half was ruined by water damage. But the second half—preserved.He skimmed quickly.Entry 47: The humming grows stronger at night. The readings are impossible. Something is beneath the lake—something generating consistent frequency pulses. It is not geological.Entry 49: They warned me to stop. They said the lake