I am here to share my story. My story about Grave Lake. It serves as a warning to never, ever, go searching for Grave Lake.
I live in Anmore, West Virginia. Yes, it is a real place look it up if you don't believe me. I have few friends, mainly because the population is no more than 800 people, and one night, me and my two best friends, Jason and Thomas, set up a campfire in my backyard. It was dark, and the only thing stopping the mosquitoes from eating us alive was the crackling fire. Jason finally stopped eating smores and said, "Guys, guys! I have a great idea! Let's tell scary stories."
Thomas chimed in, "Wow, Jason, how original!"
Thomas rolled his eyes. Jason ignored him and began to tell a story. He got a very serious look on his face and started talking in a deep voice, "One day, there was a young boy who lived right here in Anmore. He was a curious little child and one day he decided to go explore the woods. He eventually came across a lake. He was tired from walking, and decided to take a dip. As he swam, he scraped his foot against something.
He looked down and saw....a gravestone. Not one, but hundreds of gravestones. The boy went missing, never to be seen again. The lake was called Grave Lake." Thomas started laughing, "Ha ha ha, that was so dumb. It is so dumb I'll go look for 'Grave Lake' right now, come on guys let's go." Neither of us objected, so I put out the fire and we hiked off into the woods.
About five minutes of hiking, Thomas wouldn't stop saying how much of a stupid story that was. Jason didn't really seem to care. In the middle of one of his sentences, Thomas stopped. There was a look of confusion and terror in his face.
"Thomas? Thomas! What's wrong?" He didn't say anything, he just pointed forward. About 50 yards ahead, was....a....a lake. Jason's eyes widened, "Holy shit, my grandad told me that story, but I assumed he was just trying to scare me. Holy shit!!" There aren't any lakes in the area, so either this was Grave Lake from Jason's story or it was an undocumented lake.
Thomas was in a state of confusion. He wouldn't talk. He would just shake his head occasionally as we proceeded to the lakefront. We noticed that a low fog rolled over the lake, and it seemed to give off a strange, dim, purple glow. The lakefront was tiny and we could walk from one end to the other in about 45 seconds. I was inspecting the area and I noticed a small wooden rowboat on the other end of the lakefront. Thomas pleaded, "No!! Please no!" But me and Jason wanted to go anyway. We dragged Thomas along with us, and we got in and I used the oar to push us into the lake.
Me and Jason were the ones who rowed, Thomas sat in the small boat just shivering. We were 10 feet from shore and the boat turned to the left. Jason said, "Sorry, my oar got stuck on something. All of a sudden, the ground started to quake. The water became clear like the waters in the Bahamas but had a purple tint to it. I saw what Jason's oar was stuck on. It was a gravestone. There were hundreds, no, thousands, of sunken gravestones.
They were covered with algae and weeds. I started to feel a fast tapping on the bottom of the boat, and me and Jason looked at each other, terrified. All of a sudden, the boat flipped over and I just swam to shore scared out of my mind. I looked back, and I saw what tipped the boat. hundreds of algae-covered, rotting arms were clawing at Thomas, Jason, and the boat, and quickly pulled them under.
I ran and I ran. I ran home and started to write this. I don't think I'll be ever going back into the woods, ever, again.