Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Near-Death Terror, Dark Forest Chants, and Family Secrets Haunting the Lake PART1 #23

Episode Date: October 30, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #darkforest #lakehauntings #familysecrets #neardeathexperience #supernaturalencounters  Part 1 introduces terrifying experiences near a mysterious lake, including dark forest chants, family secrets, and near-death encounters. The stories blend suspense, supernatural elements, and psychological tension, showing how ordinary trips to the forest can turn into life-threatening, eerie experiences. This installment emphasizes fear, survival, and the haunting presence of unknown forces.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, darkforest, lakehauntings, familysecrets, suspenseandterror, dangerousencounters, frighteningexperiences, realhorrorstories, nearfatalencounters, supernaturalhorror, chillingencounters, unexpecteddanger, paranormalactivity, eerieencounters, truecrimehorror

The lake that almost took me, a story I'll never forget. It's crazy to think about how much time has passed since this whole thing happened. Over two decades, give or take. Feels like another lifetime, like I was a completely different person back then. I was barely in my early 20s, full of that restless energy you have when you're just starting out in life and think you're invincible. I was in my first year in radio, working for Clear Channel Shreveport in Louisiana, juggling more roles than I probably should have been trusted with at that age.

I wasn't some big-time voice on the airwaves yet, nah, I was still grinding it out part-time as a board operator, promotions assistant, and filling in wherever they'd let me. I also scored the overnight shifts on the weekends as a disc jockey for Raca 99, which most people knew better as 99xKTXFM. It was one of those, do everything, say yes to everything, kind of jobs. You don't sleep much, but you feel alive. One of the annual events our cluster of stations took part in was the big flotilla at Cross Lake. Early summer, tons of boats, parties on the water, music blasting, it was kind of a big deal.

The year was 2002. Our rock station had scored a sponsorship deal with a local boat dealership, which was basically a golden ticket because it meant we got access to two of their boats for the event. One was a party barge, big and slow, perfect for hanging out. The other was a sleek, motor-powered base boat, built for speed. That Saturday, the weather couldn't have been scripted better. The sun was out, the air was warm but not suffocating, and there was this constant breeze cutting through the heat.

Perfect lake weather. The only catch was the wind, it stirred up the water and with so many boats sipping around, the waves were a little more aggressive than usual. At least half a dozen of us were lounging on the party barge, laughing, eating, and just letting the music set the vibe. A couple of other folks were taking turns on the base boat, showing off how fast they could skim across the water. Among the group was one of the DJ's wives, who had come prepared for the summer sun with this big brown straw hat. It wasn't fancy or expensive looking, just your average sun hat, white brim, kind of floppy.

But it did the job of keeping the heat off her face. At least until the wind decided otherwise. We were in the middle of the lake when a sudden gust of wind swooped down like it had a personal grudge against her hat. In one second it was on her head, the next it was cartwheeling through the air before splashing into the water. Everyone kind of froze, watching it float away. She laughed, a little embarrassed, and we all started cracking jokes.

about the hat being a sacrifice to the lake gods. But then the boat slowed down, and a few of us leaned over the edge, trying to grab it with our hands or a fishing net we had lying around. It was already out of reach. Nobody wanted to just let it go, though. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was just boredom disguised as determination. Whatever the reason, in the spur of the moment, I made a decision that could have very easily turned me into a permanent ghost.

story of Cross Lake. Without thinking, without pausing to weigh the danger, I stripped off my shirt, kicked off my shoes, and dove into the lake. No life jacket. No plan. Just adrenaline and the dumb confidence of a 20-something who hadn't yet learned that lakes can kill you. The water wasn't cold, it actually felt nice against my skin, but that sense of calm didn't

last. Swimming out to the hat was easy. A few strokes, a few kicks, and there it was bobbing in front of me. I grabbed it, grinning like an idiot, feeling this weird sense of accomplishment over rescuing a hat. I didn't realize yet how quickly that pride was about to vanish. Because as soon as I turned around, the reality hit me. The barrage was close, too close to be scary under normal circumstances. On a calm day, I could have glided back to it with no effort.

But this wasn't a calm day. The waves, stirred up by the endless stream of boats cutting across the lake, kept pushing me back every time I tried to swim forward. Add in the wind, and it felt like I was on a treadmill in the middle of the water. No matter how hard I kicked, no matter how much I clawed at the lake with my arms, I wasn't moving forward. I was stuck. That's when the panic set in.

The hat stopped matrimed. I let it go. It drifted away like it was mocking me. My brain flipped from, look at me, hero of the day, to holy hell, I might actually die out here. There's this very particular kind of terror that hits you when you're thrashing in open water, realizing that if you stop moving, even for a second, you'll sink. And sinking means the end. At first, everyone on the party barge thought I was messing around.

They laughed, clapped, and yelled stuff like, come on, Michael Phelps. But after a few seconds of watching me flail and make no progress, the tone shifted. They realized I wasn't joking. The waves were too strong. I couldn't get back. Our program director, who would later become one of my closest friends, grabbed a life preserver and hurled it toward me. For a brief, shining moment, hope lit up.

inside me. But then the wind caught it, dragging it out of my reach. Watching that preserver flowed away was soul-crushing. Like the lake itself was saying, not today. The people on the barge tried maneuvering closer, but here's the thing, party barges aren't exactly built for precision. Whoever was steering it wasn't skilled enough to get it lined up without drifting too far. It was like watching a slow-motion disaster. By then, my arms were lead. My legs were burning. All I could do was kick just enough to keep my head above water.

I remember thinking, is this really it? Is this where it ends? Over a freaking straw hat. Thankfully, we had cell phones, primitive ones compared to today, but they worked. My program director called the guys on the base boat. Only problem. They were all the way on. the other side of the lake, which meant I had to keep myself afloat long enough for them to come

find me. Those few minutes felt like hours. I was exhausted, my lungs burning, and for the first time in my life, I was actually afraid of dying. Not in some abstract, life is fragile, way, but in a visceral, death is reaching for me right now, way. It sounds insane, but I swear I could almost feel death lurking nearby, cold fingers brushing against me, just waiting for me to give up. When you're young, you walk around with this illusion that you're untouchable. That your story has so many chapters left to be written. You don't think about the possibility that the book could slam shut out of nowhere. And to think it could have ended because of a hat.

That absurdity haunted me even as I fought to stay above the water. Finally, just as my body was on the verge of giving out, the bass boat appeared. The driver, another DJ, leaned over and hauled me up like I was a half-dead fish. Collapsing onto the floor of that boat, feeling the sun beating down on my face, was maybe the best sensation I'd ever had. My whole body was shaking, sore, drenched, but I was alive. And nothing makes you appreciate life quite like nearly losing it. From that day forward, any time I've gone into a lake, river, or ocean, I've worn a life jacket. No exceptions.

I don't care if people laugh or say I look like a nerd. I'd rather look like a nerd than end up at the bottom of a lake. And here's the part that still blows my mind, the guy who saved me, the one driving the base boat, was the husband of the woman whose hat I had jumped in after. If that's not irony, I don't know what is. But that wasn't the only creepy, unexplained experience tied to that lake. See, a few years later, some friends and I, all of us in our mid-20s, decided to rent out a place on the lake for a weekend. We were planning your typical escape, lots of drinking, partying, swimming, maybe a little barbecuing.

Friday night we went all out. By Saturday afternoon, though, we were wrecked, hung over, drained, just sprawled out like corpses. So, we made a group decision, no heavy drinking that night. Maybe just a little weed, nothing too crazy. A chill night, a recovery night. By around 9 or 10 p.m., the vibe was mellow. A few of us were hanging inside the lake house, while five of us gathered on the deck on the second floor. The deck overlooked the forest that surrounded the lake house.

You couldn't see the water from there, but you could feel its presence. It was just a short walk away through the trees. The night was quiet. Too quiet. And that's when things started getting strange. To be continued.