It was supposed to be an ordinary summer day. The sun was shining, the forest was calm, and a group of boys played by the riverbank — laughing, splashing, skipping stones. Then, one of them, a curious six-year-old named Ilia, noticed something unusual: a thick, wet rope lying partly in the sand, its end disappearing into the murky water. “Hey, what if it’s a treasure?” he shouted. His friends backed away, uneasy. “Don’t touch it! It could be dangerous!” But Ilia’s curiosity was stronger than his fear. He grabbed the rope, feeling it pull back — as if something heavy was trapped below. He tugged again, harder this time, until something began to rise to the surface… something no one was prepared to see. 😰💀
It was a bright and peaceful afternoon. The kind of day that seemed made for adventure.
A group of village boys had gathered at the river, their laughter echoing through the trees as they raced boats made from bark and twigs. The air smelled of wet grass and sunlight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary — until Ilia noticed the rope.😨😱
It lay half-buried in the sand, one end thick and frayed, the other vanishing into the slow-moving current.
“Look at this!” Ilia said excitedly. “Maybe it’s attached to something — like a chest!”
The other boys exchanged nervous glances.
“Don’t,” whispered one of them. “It’s probably garbage.”
“Or a trap,” muttered another.
But Ilia didn’t listen. He was always the curious one — the kind who would climb the tallest trees and explore dark caves just to see what was inside.
He bent down and touched the rope. It was cold and slippery, covered in river slime. He hesitated for a second, then pulled.
At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he felt resistance — as though something heavy was anchored beneath the surface.
His heart began to race. “Hey! Help me pull!” he called.
But his friends were already backing away. One of them laughed nervously; another turned pale.
“Let’s go!” someone shouted. “This is creepy!”
Within seconds, they were gone — running back toward the forest path, leaving Ilia alone on the riverbank.
The wind rustled through the reeds. The river gurgled softly, as if whispering secrets.
Ilia tightened his grip on the rope. Whatever was down there, he had to see it. He leaned back and pulled with all his strength.
The rope moved — just a little at first. Then more. The water churned and darkened. A faint shape began to form beneath the surface.
And then, with a sudden, sickening lurch, something broke free.
Ilia froze. His breath caught in his throat.
A pale hand drifted upward, followed by a shoulder, a face — lifeless, eyes closed, hair floating in the current. It was a man.
The rope was wound tightly around his waist, and dark bruises ringed his neck.
Ilia screamed.
The rope slipped from his hands, and he stumbled backward, heart pounding, tears welling in his eyes. Then he turned and ran — as fast as his legs could carry him — through the tall grass and toward the village.
When he burst into the square, gasping and crying, the adults didn’t believe him at first. But his terror was real. A group of men grabbed tools and lanterns and followed him back to the river.
By the time they arrived, the body had drifted closer to shore. The current rocked it gently, as though the river itself was reluctant to let go.
They pulled the man onto the sand and called the authorities. Later, it was discovered that he had been missing for more than a week.
And the rope — that same thick, moss-covered rope — no one dared to move it again.
Even now, years later, villagers say it’s still there, half-buried in the mud, a silent warning to those who pass by.
Because sometimes, curiosity doesn’t lead to discovery.
Sometimes… it pulls something dark from the depths. 🌊😨
