This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/AccidentallyScared on 2025-06-03 23:44:47+00:00.

You aren’t going to believe this, but even after I explained how something tried dragging me into the water the first time I visited the Blue Hole at night I managed to find somebody willing to help me explore further. Aaron will be meeting up with me this weekend to get started, and he’s got some scuba diving experience to bring to the table.

I look forward to finding out what his knowledge of exploring underwater will contribute to this mission, but of course, I couldn’t wait that long to collect some more data. I’ve been back out to the Blue Hole, and I wasn’t dragged in, but I still experienced some really scary shit.

My curiosity has expanded from just wanting to know where the hole bottomed out. Now there’s a chance I’m discovering some sort of freshwater deep sea creature. As freaky as it is, that would be a cool thing to be responsible for.

I went to the store for a few supplies before going out. I bought a headlamp, a fishing pole, and a starter-pack variety tackle box. I’m too cheap to buy live bait. I dug up some earthworms and put them in an empty margarine tin. I figured it was best to wait for Aaron’s input before investing in more expensive tools.

I parked in a new spot this time, to make sure that no one noticed my car repeatedly showing up at night. It was a little further of a hike, but that’s a price I was willing to pay. I kept my headlamp off for the walk there and shone the flashlight on my phone on the trail.

Once again I didn’t see any lights that would mean another person was near. I was starting to wonder if the park ranger patrolled at all at night time. I wouldn’t blame them if not; the dark made every sound of the forest louder and more frightening.

I arrived at the Blue Hole and jotted down a few quick observations. The weather was warm and humid, mosquitos bit at me but didn’t jump down onto the water’s surface. The water was black as night with an unnaturally calm surface, just like the last time.

I crouched at the side of the water on the flat rock patch I favored. I prepared the fishing pole the best I could, with a hook, a bright orange bobber, and a shiny plastic fish. I wasn’t an experienced fisherman so it took me a while, but I got it together seemingly pretty well.

I cast the line into the water, right in the center of the hole. I sat back criss-cross style and settled in. Then I waited.

I tried to breathe quietly and switched the headlight on, training it on the bobber and staying as still as possible. The water remained entirely flat except for the tiny, almost imperceptible disturbance of the bobber sitting atop it.

I ran out of patience about thirty minutes later, the bobber not having sunk below the surface once. I reeled and prepared to try a different bait. To my surprise, there was no tiny plastic fish attached to the end.

Grumbling, I pulled out my margarine tin full of worms and picked up a juicy one. I speared it on the fishing hook, tugging at it slightly to make sure it was really on there. I figured the plastic one was crap and fell right off just sitting still.

I cast the line back in the water again, more optimistic. If I were a water creature, that was the worm I’d risk a hook for. Again, I waited.

I waited another thirty minutes then frustratedly reeled. I drew my eyebrows together in confusion when I saw another empty hook.

What the hell? I thought. I could’ve sworn the bobber was still the entire time, just like before.

Feeling a little dumb, I skewered another poor earthworm. This time, I cast my line and waited only five minutes.

Another empty hook.

I was stumped. I thought about those octopuses that open jars and solve Rubix cubes. Could it be something similar, that had a gentle touch and enough intelligence to not want to pull a fishing line?

I had a sudden idea. I ripped a page from my notebook and began folding. When I was a kid, I made these little paper boats and over the years I got to where they consistently floated well. I quickly folded the page into a simple but respectable vessel.

I softly placed the boat onto the surface of the water. It bobbed a bit then sat still, afloat on the surface. I settled back down and watched impatiently.

Not thirty seconds later, the boat suddenly was sucked into the water with a glug. I shot up to a standing position. It was like something either gripped it at the bottom and pulled it down, or breathed it in from right beneath. Excited, I folded another little ship with shaky hands.

I pulled out my phone and hit the camera, putting the flash on. I filmed as I placed the boat on the water. About thirty seconds later, it happened again: glug. The water level went down slightly like the Blue Hole just swallowed. I hovered right over the spot and then I lost my grip.

My hands grasped at the air as my phone fell into the water. There was no wait for it to sink this time. It fell straight down to the bottom. The Blue Hole’s water gurgled, which sounded eerily like the gurgles of a laughing infant.

Fuck. I thought. Even though I was not going down for it, I peered down into the water with my headlamp, straining to see it. The headlamp didn’t do much good; it mostly just created reflection on the water.

Then, I thought I saw a light that wasn’t just a reflection. For a split second, I thought it could be my phone screen, inexplicably still shining. I looked at it studiously.

At that moment, it was like the lights flickered out. I spun in a circle, frantically looking for light, but it was as dark as the inside of a cave. The kind of dark animals evolved to be eyeless in. Dark that is better to not perceive at all than to be stuck seeing.

I panicked, but remembering my cave experiences went totally still. For a brief moment, I wondered if I had fallen off the edge into the black after all, but a couple of deep breaths reaffirmed I was above ground. I reached for my headlight, but the switch did nothing to dispel the darkness.

Heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to escape, I slowly bent down and felt for the earth. I felt the cool rock and curled up in the fetal position, blinking and squeezing my eyes shut repeatedly.

I thought the ranger would have to drag my blind self from the spot I was in when the sun came up, but to my great relief, my vision slowly returned. First I could just see the fuzzy outline of the hole. Then, eventually, I could make out some details.

With my sight back, I sat up and tried my headlamp again. It was dead. I swore at myself for not bringing extra batteries and stood on trembling legs. I looked at the Blue Hole for a second, gathered the belongings I still had, and trekked carefully through the dark back to my car.

I have no idea why everything went black. I wasn’t sure if it was the hole, or my fear overwhelming me to near unconsciousness.

I had to write this up on my laptop. Aaron, if you’re reading this, I’m not ignoring you, I just still need to buy a new phone.

I sure am looking forward to going out with a partner. Clearly, it’s not safe for me to keep going alone, even not touching the water.