The First Glimpse Inside the Journal

For those who have difficulty reading cursive, I've provided a clear, printed version below.

I don’t even know where to start. I went down to Lake Winona this evening to fish like I always do after work. I didn’t catch a thing for about an hour. Then something hit my line hard. At first, I thought I’d hooked a big one, but this felt different. It pulled like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The rod bent so much I thought it might snap. I started reeling it in, but whatever was on the other end was enormous. It was way too big for a catfish or anything that should be in this lake. Then I saw it for just a second, right under the surface. It was something dark and long, definitely not a fish. Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen in Winona. I froze. It yanked again and before I could get a good look, the line snapped clean. Just like that. Gone. But I swear I saw it. I know what I saw even if it was only for a moment. I don’t know what it was, maybe some kind of monster. The stories people tell about something living in the lake always seemed like just stories. But now I’m not so sure. I stood there for a while, staring at the water, trying to figure out what happened. I can’t stop thinking about it.

    This journal entry feels like the moment reality slips, just like it did for my grandfather. It starts as a normal evening fishing, but when something huge and dark pulls his line, his certainty unravels. That glimpse of something “not a fish” but something bigger echoes my grandfather’s sightings exactly. The phrase “I know what I saw” feels like a revelation, like he’s daring himself and us to believe it’s real. Standing there, staring at the water, he’s left haunted, just as my grandfather was. Maybe, after all, it’s not just stories.