My father loves fishing, hunting, and hiking. He grew up doing all of it in Asia. I usually tag along because I want to spend more time with him.

One morning during a family camping trip, my father woke up before everyone else. It was just after 2 AM. He grabbed his bucket, fishing poles, and box of bait, then headed to the nearby lake. He never liked shining his light near the water—he always said it scared the fish away. But that night, the lakeside was unusually foggy.

He baited the hook and cast the line to his left. He waited. And waited.

“Help! Help!” a woman’s voice cried.

His eyes widened. He reeled in the line quickly and stood still, listening. Nothing. Just silence. Shaking his head, he brushed it off, thinking maybe he was just hearing things.

He turned to the right and cast again. He waited. And waited.

“Help! Help!”

The voice came again—but this time, it was a man’s. And it was closer.

My father didn’t hesitate. He reeled in the line, grabbed his bucket and gear, and stood up.

“This is definitely not human,” he whispered.

And just like that, he left the lake and returned to the campsite.