CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 5 Appalachian Horror Stories to give you a crippling fear of nature

Episode Date: April 22, 2025

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "4th Special Forces Group encountered something in west Tennessee, it was pure evil" Creepypasta►47:09 "I rented a cabin in the Appalachian mountains. I saw horrifying things" Creepypasta►1:17:31 "Don't touch the skulls when in the Appalachians" Creepypasta►1:37:20 "Don't Wear Red in the Appalachian Woods" Creepypasta►2:25:00 "The Beast of the Appalachians" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"-    • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep ...  ►"Personal Favourites"-    • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher...  ►"Written by me"-    • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creep...  ►"Long Stories"-    • Long Stories  FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter:   / creeps_mcpasta  ►Instagram:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Twitch:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Facebook:   / creepsmcpasta  CREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only

I'm part of the United States Special Forces, the Green Berets, and have been for several years now. In my tenure, I've deployed multiple times to Afghanistan, Iraq, a few months in Syria, several African countries. I've been to all four corners of the globe, and I've seen my fair share of the good, the bad and the ugly that comes from being part of Socom. I've got plenty of stories, some more interesting than others, but almost. Just all of them are heavily classified behind red tape that will never be declassified until I'm dead and gone. However, there was an incident a few nights ago that stuck out from all the others, mostly because one, unlike all of our other operations that took as the combat zones across

the distant hemisphere, this one happened right at home in our own backyard. The enemies weren't a foreign proxy, a group of insurgents. wasn't even human. Stuff from that night is still weird, and it's not like command is going to give us any answers. It's the reason I'm bypassing everything I've been told, disregarding and putting my ass on the line, even if I use false information and withhold names. Plenty of innocent people have died. As you'll find out, an upper command would sooner bury it, then acknowledge the deaths and

give their families closure. I don't have all the answers of what happened in that Western Tennessee National Park, but I do have enough to let people know the truth. Semi-truth anyways. For safety and privacy purposes, I stated previous. I'm withholding a lot of personal information, such as names, exact locations, and unit information, referring the smaller stuff that I don't think even the scary three-letter groups could really trace.

Even if they cared. I hope they don't. Like I said, I'm part of a SOCOM Green Beret A team. You will know who the Green Berets are. You should. My team is nicknamed Raider, a general theme in our company, naming things after warrior-culture-esque terms. Raider, Artemis, Barbarian, Centurion, etc.

It's a 10-man element. The team lead. A way too salty Georgian captain with a warrant officer, a medic, a comm sergeant and six weapon sergeants, Our captain decided this way was best. Considering we're all in one piece after our last mission, he was right. Our weekend was calm and boring as we rotated on QRF, quick reaction force, for the month. QRF means that if someone, somewhere, needs the green-eyed buggy men of the Western world,

we were ready to kit up and be there at a moment's notice. It just so happened, right to. Right when some of us were getting ready to head to the bar and have our two singular authorised beers of QRF month, we were called. When we raced back to our COP and got our stuff ready, the captain came with some surprising information We'd be able to probably make it back for those beers because we were heading to West Tennessee Of all places. We didn't know what the status was yet. Command didn't give us any information what the op-for was, what weapons they had, what the layout of the area was, nothing.

But being QRF team, Raiders still kitted up and we were at the HLZ in less than 20. While we waited for our transport, the captain finally got some information. Apparently, a facility in the middle of uninhabited, restricted woods of a national park had activated a distress signal. The woods it was situated in was a large national park. in, like I said, western Tennessee, with a long history of disappearances on its now frequently closed and blocked off trails and campsites. This raised a few questions. What was this facility? Why was it in a national park? What happened to need to roll out the angriest Green Beret team this side of the east coast to act as its backup?

Why were we going there when in an hour, someone in Libya or someone across Eurasia might need us to back them up? The captain acknowledged all of these questions, but assured us that's all he knew. He's been with our team for years now, several deployments to the box and back, and he's always been straight with us. It's how we knew he was lying. Our transport finally arrived. 160th saw Nightstalkers, an aviation unit that's been around for nearly 40 years, having dragged every single kind of Socom unit to every single part of the world. We expected the Black Hawk they brought, but the armed escort of two birds that came with them was a surprise.

We were in domestic America. We were going to Tennessee. Why were they here? Even with the nightstalkers flying at top speed across several states, it still took a couple of hours to reach our landing point. The inside of that bird going full throttle was deafening, even with the electronic headsets we were sporting. It was ear-splitting. And yet, while sitting next to the captain, I could tell he was speaking to someone on a different frequency. This was off because normally he'd go to the comm sergeant and have to use the radio, but he had a side channel filled in his radio, talking to someone, writing down incoming information.

I was able to peek over and saw some of the things he was writing. Mascal. Close quarters up four. No blue four on eggs. The birds touched down in the middle of an empty parking lot, outside of the local ranger station. We filled out to the open area. The birds took off. The captain chimed in on our team net. Raider Romero, this is Raider lead. Get on the net and have them hold orbit in case we need close air, break. He then broke transmission and talked to us. All raiders hold outside. Raiders hold outside and take up security. I'm gonna get the damn Ragnar. Prepare for a hasty-ass ramp brief. I just got more information. We all took positions

behind some of the parked vehicles the Rangers would use. Just to clear things up, our team was outfitted with GpnvG, also known as Quadnods. Four-barrowed night vision optics that provided an almost daytime-like view of our surroundings. Couple that with our PEQs mounted on our rifles, allowing us to see and shoot anything at night. As the military says, we own the knight. The tree line in front of us

was lit up like a goddamn operator rave party as the captain walked back, nods down as the ranger currently on shift followed him. He keyed into our net, and we could hear him through our headsets. All Raiders, this is lead.

New information states that the facility has suffered Mascal, situation break. Mascal means mass casualties. Enemy up four unidentified. However, outgoing net during distress call indicates that up four is extremely dangerous and engages a close range, break.

There is no blue four on site. I repeat, Maynest stated there is no blue four on site and we have to drop any and all packs we see. A few seconds passed as the captain looked back to the park ranger. Any additional comments, Ranger Clements? The man, maybe in his mid-forties, balding, he scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat before speaking. I heard a lot of gunfire coming from down there, and don't split up. Whatever you do in these woods, don't split up.

Ah, medic laughed. Well, that's just comforting. The captain nodded to the man as he held back in. Everyone watches sixes, twelves and fives. Let's go. We picked up and moved out. Everyone had their own kind of final moments type of readiness drill they did before they stepped onto the path into the woods.

Same stuff we did, stepping off out of the FOBs and compounds back east. I let out one final breath of hot air in the cold. Our medic slapped the side of his helmet, hyping himself up. The captain pulled out and kissed a small crucifix necklace from underneath his combat shirt. We headed down the pathway, following the captain in a staggered column.

Our IR lasers scanned the trees, rocks and foliage around us, looking desperately for any hostiles that lurked in the darkness. Though to our paranoid readiness, nothing appeared. But something was definitely following us. When we move through forest environments, you listen to the animals around you. The crickets, the birds, the movement of animals and what direction they're heading, how fast. Moving down that path, I couldn't hear a goddamn thing. It's common when you're a group of heavily armed green men moving through a forest at night that some of the

squirrels and birds will run the hell away, but not the crickets or the bird songs in the distance. There's a certain level of ambience that animals will maintain, even if they detect humans around. There was none of that. Nothing. Not a cricket, a bird, a cicada, nothing. Silent professionals, it's in our name. So, when I could hear a friendly 10 metres ahead of me breathing as we moved through that dead forest, it told me that something else was here in the woods with us, a predator, and that the forest was more afraid of it than us. After a long stretch of marching down the trail, the captain held a hand up, signaling a halt. As it got down to my part of the column, the middle section, he called over the radio.

This is lead, on me, time now. We quickly rushed up to what we saw was a metal chain-link fence. Four of our weapon sergeants and the medic took up security covering the woodline behind us, as I and the other remaining one went up to the gate with the captain. The barks trail carried on for a few more metres before stopping dead into some trees. The dirt path broke off and formed a gravel one that led into a sectioned off area behind a chain-link fence and gate. That, no trespassar sign, hung high. And just beyond the gate, we could see a small guard shack.

The captain tried to signal whoever might be in there by switching on the surefire attack light on his rifle, shining it and lasso waving it all over the booth. However, upon stopping and centering on the doorway, we saw a large amount of blood splashed on the back wall, and pulled over the room, an arm laying halfway out the doorframe. The captain looked to the other weapon sergeant with us. Get your kit. He nodded, slinging his rifle as he dropped his assault pack,

digging out a small pair of bolt cutters. Each of our weapon sergeants carried a different load out depending on what we needed. One could be a gunner, another's a grenadier. I can't name him, but Breachman, as I guess I'll call him. always carried a breach kit just in case. He walked over to the lock, but just as he got the blades of the cutter around the lock, we heard it.

It sounded like it came from everywhere, and yet far away at the same time. Maybe it was the echo of the forest, or maybe something attributed to its abilities. It sounded like a woman, yelling in pain, in agony, and yet the voice was half-guided. like it was morphed with that of a dying animal, as it had an underlying low-tone pitch beneath it.

It got under the skin of everyone. Bowes pulling security immediately jumped, scanning left, right, up and down. Hell, even the medic. Big stocky dude, grew up in Brooklyn, played football before he joined, meaning he was as yoked as all hell when he got to our unit. The guy who once stuck his finger into a man's neck to plug his blood. looked around nervously. The hell was that? Our weapon sergeant with the M-46 shook his head

as he scanned the far-off terrain, muttering in a low voice. Some horror-moving nonsense right now. I remember holding my rifles grip tight. Everyone was equally unnerved. Everyone, except the captain. He just told us to press on. For goodness sake, loosen your job straps, let's go. He snapped the lock off.

Immediately the captain and I moved in and cleared the small booth as two more weapon sergeants and our medic took up covering down the gravel road. It was a guard, no name tape or company logo, decked out in a black plate carrier. The plate carrier of which had been torn into as a large hole covered the entire area of his solar plexus, which was now fragmented and broken inside of his mulched upper body. No bullet entry or exit wounds. Just a large stab wound that looks like he got ran through by a damn lamppost.

My breath still got caught in my throat as I grunted to clear it. The captain stepped out of the small booth, spitting hard into the grass, shaking his head. The medic prodded him. What was it like? He grunted, walking to the front. of our formation. Doesn't matter, Doc. We formed up and moved down the gravel road in a wedge column.

The captain and the three weapon sergeants in the front wedge, the medic, me and two other weapons sergeants in the back one. The comm sergeant in the middle. We entered the facility lot. Immediately the comm sergeant linked up with the captain and I could hear him alerting Maine. This is Raider. Lead.

We've reached the building. Though it makes me wonder, if he used the Com Sgtens radio to reach our HQ, who was he talking to on that other channel? The lot was clear, and we got a good look at the facility. It was a grey concrete rectangle, maybe the size of a small gas station. Floodlights mounted on the bottom illuminated the gravel lot up to the dense, shadowy woodline that laid just beyond the chain-link fence, the woodline that was still quiet.

The Maskal carnage we were told about was present outside of the building. Several guards, all in various states of mutilation, similar to the gate guard, was strewn about the gravel lot. However, unlike the gate guard, strangely, they were in heavier body armor, with rifles capable of going automatic and spent brass everywhere. Me and some of the other guys got online and cleared out the back, exasperated breaths and muttering came from all of us. The captain chimed in. Raiders on me. Time now.

We hauled ass back to him as we stacked up at the door. Flowing in, we were greeted to a lobby, torn up, furniture thrown everywhere, impact marks from rounds hitting the concrete lined walls and ceiling. One dead guard slumped against a red side. stained part of the wall, the other in a crumpled heap. A woman at the desk, not a guard. Just the damned staff member sat back in a chair. Her entire torso area torn apart.

As we passed by her and headed through the double doors behind her, her empty, dead eyes met mine. The comm sergeant eyed her as well as we moved through the door. Sir, she was unarmed. I can see that. Keep chatter to a minimum. We cleared through the double doors to be greeted by a porcelain hallway, leading into a set of stairs heading to a sub-level.

The entire surface, ceiling, walls, floor was lined with ceramic white tiles. Ceramic white tiles that were like the rest of the scene so far. Stained with blood, guts, and even brain matter of the unlucky guards laid out all the way down the stairs. I counted eight 17 so far The flickering light could be seen through the wireglass windows Of the double doors at the bottom The captain ordered us to flow in through both sides

We did Pushing in we could see we entered into a tea-style hallway It gets a bit complicated here Either end of the tea ended While the middle one shot forward far down into the hall leading into two reinforced blastores at the very end. Two immediate labs on either side were reinforced with more wire glass, and despite several crates, impact marks, bullet holes, and even holes made in the glass,

they held. This stuff can't be ballistic glass, our com sergeant muttered. Why didn't they just take cover in there? The medic said. The captain sighed. seems to be pointing to a surprise attack from the inside emphasis on surprise jackass the medic fired back

well sure but it's just the door while the hallways outside were a mess of blood gore guards thrown around as they were ripped apart creating a mess of bodies weapons and more spent brass the labtecs had the white coat stained with their own blood my blood and I think everyone else's started to run cold

as the pieces came together. Whatever killed them did so indiscriminately. We formed a rolling tea heading into the hallway. I was on the right with a gunner taking centre and another guy on the left. The captain pushed forward, leading us from behind. The window labs ended halfway, with two solid white doors near the double doors at the end

on either side leading to closed off labs. The captain had us pull guard on both of the side doors as the gunner aimed back down the hallway. Everyone else took up security wherever it was needed. The captain eyed the door, feeling the cracks and lines of the blast door, looking for gaps that didn't exist. Blood had slowly leaked from the bottom, causing him to pick up his boots and eye it. And yet, no openings existed. An electronic pad was positioned at the right side of the door. The captain eyed it.

It was a hand scanner. I didn't even think those actually existed. He jumped on the private frequency I keep mentioning. I'm at the doors. Yeah, at the far end, there's a hand scanner. He waited a few seconds of deafening silence. He made an internal chuckle as he walked over to the dead body of a guard, kicking its arm. Got one right here.

I'm sorry, repeat. Last? Alive? He rubbed his face, cursing under his breath. He shook his head, turning on the white light of his rifle and scanning the corpses. This place is a goddamn slaughterhouse. How am I going to... A crash emanated from the white lab door to the right of the blast doors, the one I was covering.

Everyone paused for a second as the second weapon sergeant aimed his laser at it. The captain turned his head, aiming his laser at the door as he approached. might have one or might have up four wait one over the captain formed up as the first man in the stack an unusual practice but everyone else fell behind i was the second man two more made third and fourth a weapon sergeant fell the edges of the door then tried the handle locked him trying the handle must have alerted whatever was inside

because a voice bellowed out i i'm in here please I'll let you in. Just don't shoot. The doorman looked to the captain, who nodded. Might have blue four inside. Stay sharp. Wait on me to fire. There wasn't supposed to be any blue four on sight.

The door's electronic lock opened. The doorman grabbed the handle and pulled it open as the four of us entered the room. We pushed through. The captain hooked left. I pushed forward. The other two followed one of us respectively. Our lasers entered the room and a pair of hands emerging from behind a lab table. Please!

The voice weakly shouted. The captain stormed over. Hands! Now! I'll shoot you! I swear to God if you don't put your goddamn hands up! As the person stood up, we saw the hands were connected to a scientist, possibly late 30s, stringy hair with circular glasses. Glasses that flew off when the captain closed the distance, shoving him against the metal cabinet, spittle flying from the bearded mouth

behind the NVGs as he barked at him. ID, where is it? Show it! The captain began roughly searching the lab tech as he pulled out his ID. He grabbed it, shoving him to the weapon sergeant on his side of the room. The lab tech was kicked down to his knees.

The captain jumped back on the frequency. I'm back. Possible Blue 4. Prepare for ID code. He read it off in phonetics before he got the response. He looked at the weapon sergeant guarding the lab tech. Get his ass up.

Please. I don't know what's going on. I was just running some chemical tests. We've got to get out of here before. The captain got in the man's face. Shut up. He did. You know what you've been doing.

I know what you've been doing out here. Open them doors now. The man was shocked as the captain continued. Open the damn doors now. With a point from the captain, the weapon sergeant shoved the man forward into the doorframe. The man crumbled a little bit as the captain laughed. Take your sweet time, doctor. Let's go. I picked him up by his shirt collar and dragged him over to the blast doors.

The captain pushed him out of my grip, shoving his face into the door. Hand on the scanner. Now! As the captain grabbed the man by his wrist, the lab tech struggled to get free. Please, I don't have access. I hurt my hand trying to hide. Let me go. The medic winced at the sight a bit. Uncharacteristically of a green beret,

especially for a jaded-as-held medic, he spoke up. Cap, come on. The captain just turned, staring daggers into the man as he wrestled from the man's wrist. Just wait till you'll see. I'm telling you.

As the man struggled against the captain, the weapon sergeant came up from behind, shoving the man into the blast door, allowing the captain to easily place it on the scanner. The scanner lit up in a bright blue, as several lines traced and looked over his handprint. It then flashed green as the electronic lock of the blast doors began to open up. The captain dropped the man. Well, goodness gracious, what do you know? The doors slowly pulled open. The room was dark, red flashing emergency lights flashed all around,

as the sound of broken glass scraped against the door. A stream of murky blue liquid mixed in with the blood of several guards' bodies that were revealed as the doorway leaked out into the hall. The captain grabbed the lab tech by the collar, dragging him to his feet. You all know these men, doctor, friends. The captain shoved him through the doorway, the labtakes slipping in the fluid and glass, cutting his right hand with a wince.

We flowed in, and... Jesus. I said this at the start. I've been all over. I've seen mass graves that terrorist cells have used in far-off countries, filled with entire villages' worth of people. I've seen kill-dens inside tunnel systems. This surpassed all of that.

Every horror, every war crime, multiple times over. A series of glass tubes line the walls. Walls made out of monitors. hard drives and computer systems. The path of carnage led through the pile of guards at the doorway. That makes 24 armed personnel that were taken out by something. What really bothered me was that in those murky, green and blue glass tubes, as big as a refrigerator, connected to a port at the top and bottom,

tubes and wires inside connecting to. The captain shoved the lab tech into a glass tube. The pop of the man's nose echoed off the empty area as he grabbed his nose. Well, Doc, which one was it? Which goddamn tube? Tube? What was he talking about? How did he know?

Who was on the frequency? The lab takes spit out blood, leaking into his mouth as the captain, standing at 6'5. A giant, even amongst his team, brawny, SOF operators, picked him up by his collar of his blue undershirt. I... don't. Two weapon sergeants ducked out of the way as the captain got in his face, shoving him against the left side wall, causing the monitors and computer systems to beep and light up. Oh, you don't know?

And yet your little hand opens the room that you didn't have access to. He roared, abandoning all silence and discretion now as the man began to sputter and sob. Please, please, I... The captain gritted his teeth. He quickly flipped up his nods and stared daggers into the man's soul. How many people did you snatch off that trail? How many?

What kind of butchering you do to those kids before you stuck them in there? Which one escaped? Kids. Butchering. Something in my mind stopped and I switched on my rifle's attack light. A heavy pit in my stomach formed as I flashed it. on the tubes. There were people in those tubes. They were people. Wire and tubes now poked into seethru and murky flesh as the bodies of the kidnapped floated, mutated, dissected and changed.

One person's skin ran reptilian-like up their left arm, before merging with a strange gaping hole in their chest, their skull protruding out of their skin in their head. My breathing stuttered a bit as I backed up a few steps, glass crunching under my boots. Curses muttered by the others in the room as we all began to look. Another one's mouth was sealed at the front. Two more jagged, messed up sets of teeth poked out either side. Their eyes were sealed, skin covering defined sockets in their head. The medic flashed his on one where their spine stuck out through their back. The vertebrae was larger than a normal person's, the bone sticking out inches longer in some areas. Jesus, man, this is...

He gagged a bit, coughing as he looked away. I had to pry my eyes away. My mind was frying, just looking at... They better be dead. Oh, I swear to the Lord himself, if they ain't. The captain said sternly, as the man sobbed and nodded. Yes. The captain raised an eyebrow.

You sure? Yes. They died during surgery. If you're lying to me, I swear to God, I will make a euthanize every single one. The captain shoved the lab tech forward into the center of the aisle. I looked down, shaking my head as the images of those things burned into the film of my brain. Where's she gone, doctor? The captain said, sternly, squaring up to the man who sobbed as he shrugged.

I... I... Where is it? It! The man continued to cry. He escaped. He killed everyone. It cut through the guards.

It cut through everyone. All of my friends. This caused the captain to nearly bust a blood vessel from the look he gave him, bawling up his fist and driving the arm and knuckle of his ogly glove into the gut of the lab tech. This caused the smaller, weaker lab tech to buckle over, dropping to his hands and knees, now favouring an injured hand and probably a burst spruce. You're friends? Your friends?

You mean the friends that kidnapped a 22-year-old girl and a 14-year-old son and turned them into monsters? What about them? This earned only more sobs from the lab tech as the captain turned, hands on his hips as he scoffed. He looked at the medic who only stared back through his nudes. The captain turned to look at him. You got to the count of ten, and if you don't give me a single whereabouts of this thing, I would start grabbing tools and cutting your little weasly ass up like you did to these kids. The captain loomed over the man, grabbing him by his hair.

Sir, sir, please, the lab tech pleaded. One, two, three. The captain counted. Some looked away. Others shook their heads. There wasn't a man in the room who wouldn't do what he did right now after seeing them. It's... it's in the woods. You heard it. It did it.

Freaky yelled just like ten minutes ago. The captain laughed, letting go of the man's hair as he whipped his head forward. You'll hear that? It's in the woods. He pulled out his M17, his 9mm sidearm, pulling the slide back a bit to make sure he was chambered. Four. Five. Six. The man stood up and at this point I kicked out his extended leg, dropping him back to his knees. The man looked at me, then at the captain. You can't do this, this is illegal.

Before the captain could finish his count, we heard it. It echoed all the way down the facility halls, reverberating off the glass tubes in the room. That half-feminine, half-monious cry. Except this time, it didn't do. come from far off mountains or trees. It came from the stairs. Then, the lights went out. I don't know if it was prior damage to the facility,

or electric works, or something else, but they zapped out. The lights in the halls, the lights on the stairs, the lights in the room, the electronics, the lights in the tanks, all of it. It cried out again, and this time,

I think I heard it say, Help me. Anyone who had their nods up, flicked them down. All of us trained our lasers down the dark hall beyond the door. The slight shakiness of all the green lasers told the same stories. All of the death, all of the stuff in the tanks. It had everyone spooked. The captain came up alongside me and the medic. He looked back to the lab tech. You run, you die. The man swallowed and smothered his men. misery. I... I know. The captain corrected him in a low tone. No, you really don't. The creature

cried out again. The sounds of something hard impacting the tile floor sounded out as it approached us through the dark abyss. More footsteps, then another cry. The gunner let out a shaky breath as he cracked his neck. More footsteps, then another cry. It was maybe five meters from the door now. Lord Almighty, the captain muttered. I couldn't see much in that darkness then, but I saw what everyone else saw. I saw enough. Its body was easily six feet tall, too gigantic, bony, mantis-like legs that were dark from blood stepped into the doorway. Its head was smooth, its large teeth shining in the darkness, and its eyes glowed like an animal.

Its eyes glowed. He could see us. We all froze. We had rifles trained on it, a damn machine gun trained on it, a room full of green berets, the best of the best. And everyone froze. The captain was first of fire, slamming his trigger as he shot 223 death into that crime against existence. The gunner opened up as well, and then the medic.

Two more weapon sergeants also shot. It yelled at us, cried out, like an agonized woman pleading for help. Then it lunged. Running and slamming through a test tube, glass flew everywhere, causing several of us to shield her faces, as the water flooded the floor, and the deformed body that was inside flopped down near our feet. A horrendous, rotted smell filled the air.

Jesus! The medic spotted out, gagging a bit as he kicked it away. The creature now screamed. As a rifleman that it jumped in here backed up, it leapt on top of him, shoving that bony mandible into his left shoulder, pinning him to the ground as he screamed,

thrashing his elbow into the thing as he kicked its stomach. But it didn't attack him. It just eyed the scientist. He attempted to run for his life, but the thing jumped on top of him, pinning him face first into the murky wet floor. That's when I noticed the six smaller, human-like arms on his torso. Its main mandible pinned him to the ground, the arms, some normal, some with bony spikes for fingers.

Others just lined with sharp teeth, began to rip into the man's brain. back. The lab tech screamed. His lap coat was torn open as he began to dig down into his back. Some still fired shots, but it didn't even react. It didn't even move. Just continued to tear into that vile but poor son of a gun. The captain's voice lit up the comms as he and the medic rushed to pick the man up and heave him on the captain's shoulders. We can't engage him here, outside now. He was right. It thrived on close quarters.

It ran guys through before they could pick it apart. We all ran. Nerve shot. Weapons hot from firing into a thing that didn't react. The power off so we couldn't close the blast doors. All we could do was run. I nearly slipped on the glass as we booked it out of there, firing some desperate pot shots into the lab with a gunner.

The lab tech screams echoed throughout the hallway as we booked it up the stairs. It was going to be done with him soon. The gunner and I covered the captain as we broke out into the open air, the smell of rotten death replaced by the open pioneer of the forest. Several men broke out road flares, tossing them everywhere, giving us much-needed light in the form of greens, blues, reds and purples. The captain dropped the man behind a beaten-up and wrecked A-Sidane as the medic began to patch him up.

The gunner deployed his bipod and aimed at the doors of the facility from the car's hood. The captain positioned different men to where they could all fire on the door, far enough away from the thing's grasp. Romero, get on that damn net and calling that air! I took aim behind a large SUV with several others. We all aimed at the door. The screaming had stopped. The silence was broken by its bony mandibles as it rushed out. into the open air and with all the flares and chemlight and even the captain's tack light

we finally got a good luck its skin was a mix between pink from its exposed muscles to a see-through clear layer covering other parts bony calcium-like armor had formed over a lot of its body and its back to legs formed smaller mandible-like features at the back and its head and exposed skull all to human eyes tearing out in a rage as its larger, unhinged jaw opened, and it roared out its deafening cry at us. The gunner was the first to open up. A blast of 5.56 tore through the armour on its mandible legs and torso. The thing recalled at first, and then hissed as it charged forward.

The captain ran from his place in front of the sedan side. The thing stuck its two large mandibles into the roof, badly denting it. The medic quickly covered the wall. wounded weapon sergeant, shielding him as the thing peered down at the two. The captain quickly got his attention, aiming fire at the back of its head. It roared with a vengeance as it charged to the captain. He fell back to the sedan, running out of our line of fire as the thing barreled towards us. The thing stuck a mandible inside the hood, impaling it, and then another just to my left. I circled around and behind it as I fired. It cried out, blood now pouring from its

wounds as its calcium plating was cracked and falling off en masse. The thing turned to me and as I flicked my amphitheau to auto and laid into it, it just bowled at me, shoving me to the ground. Its smaller, demonic hands reached for me as I kicked them away. Its jaw snapped as I held my rifle in the way, shielding my face as it gnawed on the metal. The gunner then blasted a chunk of its exposed skull away, staggering it as it turned. The captain whipped his stock into the thing's head, then backpedaled as he fired off another burst of rounds. The thing turned at him, roaring viciously as the captain dropped his empty mag.

He slapped in a fresh one as the thing lunged at him, both mandibles raised. The glass exploded out of the SUV's windows as the captain dropped levels, firing into its stomach as he circled out back into the open. The creature roared as it went to move for him again. but it couldn't. Its large mandibles were stuck all the way inside of the vehicle. The captain let his rifle hang slung on his front as he reached for something in his kit. An M-67 fragmentation grenade. Get back!

Everyone who was in the open ducked for cover. The gunner and several weapon sergeants retreated behind a series of concrete jersey barriers. I ran and slid behind the sedan, helping the medic to shield our wounded battle buddy. I heard the distinct sound of a spoon flying and the whistling of the grenade. The captain vaulted himself over the car hood with the comm sergeant, covering his radio operator's head as they both went prone. The explosion was thunderous. The shock wave of the grenade shook everyone and even rattled me a bit from being so close.

Shrapnel and fragments flew everywhere, impacting the concrete barriers, the building, windows in the sedan that weren't already broken were shattered. A few seconds passed as we all hesitantly started to lift our heads, then dropped them as the SUV's gas tank seemingly erupted and detonated and go from the wrecking a fireball so large it felt like the flames were touching my face. The captain popped up, aiming on top of the hood of the car. Then I and several others joined him, peeking from behind our points of cover as we looked to see if that had done it.

The SUV was a burning skeleton, an inferno from all of the ignited gasoline covering the frame and the ground around it. And the beast, as it defiantly pulled its last remaining mandible, its front left one, the only appendage it had left, and stumbled out from the flames. Its skin popped, its muscles boiled, and with all of the seethrie-through skin and bone-plating torn and burnt off. It gazed around. Its eyes ruptured and melted. Me... The gravel crunched as its charred and still burning body slumped forward.

The captain emerged from behind the Vic as only a few of us dared to approach the thing. He lifted his nods, this time pulling his M17 back up and aiming at the thing's head. Three shots into the thing's head. The damaged and charred skull caving in. A circle of light illuminated us as the rotary blades of the Black Hawk sounded out overhead. I shouldered my face and lifted my nodes to avoid the spotlight blinding me. Up four, actual down, building secure. The ensuing hour was one that was just shrouded in, I don't know, mystery, I guess.

The captain went against prior missions of telling us to go prone and pull security, putting the gunner at the sedan by the gate and telling the rest of us to walk. watch the wood line. When the van showed up, that's when he told us to chill out. They weren't really vans. They were more like armored trucks. Now, for the sake of being classified and remaining anonymous, I can't divulge a lot about them. I'm definitely not saying the black shirts wearing black multicam combat uniforms with kits, weapons and gear available that would definitely make them a private sector group. I'm not saying their uniforms were sterilized with all patches, logos and markers stripped.

I'm also not saying the hazmat suits looked way beyond anything our moat system has. I'm not saying they brought several metal cases in from their armored vix, and I'm not saying they brought in advance surveillance drones with them. I will say, they weren't really hostile. Damn, one even offered us a cigarette. The bird landed at the opposite side of the building. The open lot where they eventually told them. us ahead. We prepared our guy for Case Vac on a litter with a black hawk and loaded up as the

captain finished talking to some guy in a suit. He was much shorter, maybe 5'8. He bore the look of a younger, but still weathered man. His hair was slicked back and had a hard part. A slight bump underneath his sports coat told me he was armed. The captain eventually joined us as soon as the aviation crew shut the door. He popped his helmet off, much to their anger, and slumped back in his seat. When we touched space and got back to the COP, our sister team, Artemis, replaced us on QRF. I've been thinking about this for days now, about what those people did to them in that lab, or the captain said, they kidnapped them, cut them up, changed them. All for what? Some sick fans. Some sick Who even owned the lab?

There were no US markings, no logos, zip. Like I said before, there's still a lot I don't know. But what I do know is that those guys got exactly what they deserved. That thing, crying out for help, pleading for us to make its suffering end. The more I think about it, the more it makes me sick. I don't know who the hell those guys were that relieved us, but they didn't have any markings. Some of them were speaking German if my memory serves. But whoever they are, I hope they learn from their mistakes.

And never tamper with that evil again. My life had turned into one of those cliche country songs. I was divorced, broke, unemployed and annoyed at the world. Five years down there. the drain with a woman I thought I spent my life with, only to come home one day to find it already packed and halfway out the door. The job loss came a month later, and at that point, I figured the universe was just trying to kick me while I was down.

I needed space, no well-meaning friends telling me to focus on myself or find the silver lining. To hell with all of that. I didn't want silver linings. I wanted silence. So when I found a listing for an off-grid cabin in the Appalachian Mountains, it felt like the perfect escape. It wasn't some cozy rental package with a hot tub and a fire pit on Airbnb, just a barebones cabin buried deep in the mountains.

The description was short. remote off-grid cabin in the Appalachian Mountains, no service, no electricity, for those looking to truly disconnect. No reviews and the pictures were blurry, but it looked beautiful. I didn't even have an exact location, just a general area and a contact number. Normally I'd be wary of something that vague, but at that point, I didn't care. I booked it for a full month. The guy who owned the place was weirdly insistent that I couldn't drive there myself.

He said the trails were too easy to lose and that GPS was useless that deep in the mountains. Instead, he arranged for a local guide to take me up. It made perfect sense. Mountain roads, rough terrain, the risk of getting lost. Didn't seem that strange. I met the guide at a rundown general store about an hour outside the nearest town. He was already waiting when I pulled into the lot, standing beside an old ATV with a trailer hitched to the back.

The guy looked like he'd been living in the woods his entire life. Try picturing a stereotypical park ranger that's been doing his job for a few years too long. That kind of guy. You the renter, he asked. I nodded, tossed my backpack onto the trailer. That obvious? He grunted and climbed into the ATV. Get in.

The ride up was rough as hell. The trail was barely more than an overgrown deer path, full of sharp turns and sudden dips. After about an hour of bouncing over rocks and weaving through dense tree cover, we hit a clearing with no more roads. This is where we walk, he said, already unloading my gear. I stared at him. How far is the cabin?

Few miles. I grabbed my bag, adjusted my jacket and followed him into the trees. The hike took another hour, and the deeper we went, the more I realized just how far removed this place was. There truly was. nothing here, just solid forest pressing in from all sides. I expected to hear birds, bugs, maybe a distant stream, but at some point the woods got quiet. Not in a normal way, not in the peaceful, wow, nature is so relaxing way. I mean quiet. I noticed that the guide also hadn't spoken in nearly half an hour.

When the cabin finally came into view, I exhaled. It was exactly what I wanted. Small, sturdy, a simple two-floor set up with a wood stove and a creek nearby for water. Just me, the trees, and miles of untouched wilderness. The guide set down my gear on the porch and a touch. He'll be fine, he said, finally breaking the silence, long as you don't wander too far. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the trees. The first few nights were exactly what I needed.

I woke up when the sun came in through the windows, spent my days hiking, reading and just existing. I finally didn't have my ex-wife's lawyer blowing up my inbox. The first time I realized how deep I really was in the mountains was on the second night. I had stepped outside to do my business and was hit with a kind of silence you don't get in normal life. It wasn't just quiet. It was absolute. At the time, I figured it was just how the forest worked.

I read once that predators moving through an area could cause sudden silences. Probably just a bear passing through, right? So I shrugged it off and went to bed. By the fifth morning. I started noticing things. It wasn't anything obvious at first, just the sense that the landscape was slightly different. The bushes by the tree line looked disturbed,

like something had moved through them. probably deer, plenty of them in the area. But as I walked over, I saw the dirt was churned up, like something had been digging or shuffling around. Further along, I found scratches and a few trees, deep ones. I ran my fingers along the grooves. I had no idea what kind of marks bear claws would leave, but I figured this must have been a big one.

That was the first time I got that nagging feeling, that weird, gut-level discomfort, that something was off, even if my brain was trying to logic its way out of it. I pushed it down. Bears, deer, mountain lions. This was the wilderness. If I was going to start jumping at every broken branch in disturbed bush, I was going to drive myself crazy. So I went back inside, made coffee and told myself to stop being paranoid. But for the rest of the day, I couldn't shake it. By the 12th day, I was feeling at home in the cabin.

It was still eerily quiet most of the time, but I convinced myself that's just how it was out here. I'd been living off canned food and dried goods, but I still had a good supply of the time. had a good supply of vegetables, rice and seasonings. I figured I'd treat myself to cooking something hot, a big potter stew. I knew cooking food outside was a gamble in the wilderness. Even with scent blockers, it wasn't foolproof. If an animal got a whiff of it, I'd probably lose the whole thing. But at that point, I didn't care.

case, I'd be out of some food. So, I built up the fire in the stone-ringed fire pit, set up my cast iron pot, and threw in everything I had. Let it simmer low and slow, covered it with a heavy lid, and just to be extra safe, wrap the whole thing in a scent-neutralising tarp. Then I went inside, stretched out in bed and fell asleep to the distant crackling of the fire. The next morning I stepped outside and the yard was completely destroyed. At first my brain couldn't even process what I was looking at. The dirt had been torn up in massive swaths like something had been clawing or shoving at the ground.

Chunks of earth had been thrown in long, scattered arcs, as if something had raked through it oversized limbs. The bushes near the tree line were flattened, smashed down into the soil. Some of them were uprooted completely, lying in mangled piles with their roots exposed. Several small trees were bent at unnatural angles, their barks scraped away in places. I'd expected to find it gone, obviously. Maybe the pot knocked over, the food licked clean. Instead, the pot was shattered, split into pieces, scattered, scattered across the yard. Chunks of food were everywhere. Rice, carrots, potatoes, smeared into the dirt like something had deliberately flung them around.

It looked like someone had picked up the entire pot and slammed it into the ground, over and over. I stood there a long time, gripping the rail. of the porch, trying to wrap my head around it. A bear would have eaten the food, even a raccoon would have at least picked through it. This felt like something had been angry, like it hadn't been looking for food, but throwing a tantrum. I swore under my breath and ran a hand through my hair, feeling annoyance outweigh the unease. I had been careful, and now I was down an entire meal and a good cast iron part of my hair. cast iron pot.

Great, I muttered, bending down to scoop up some of the mess. For the next hour, I cleaned up, trying to convince myself, it was just some animal acting weird. I buried the ruined food deep in the woods, scrubbed the yard down as best I could, and sat on the porch as the sun sank below the mountains. I wasn't scared exactly, just annoyed. The whole thing felt like some bizarre prank, except there was no one around here but me. Whatever had wrecked my yard, throwing my food around, and smashed my pot, had done it for no good reason, and now I was down a solid meal and cooking equipment. I sat on the porch for a while after dark, sipping from my flask, staring out of the tree line.

The night air was cool, the forest stretching endlessly into blackness. beyond the dim glow of the cabin's lantern. I tried listening for anything. I laughed dryly, shaking my head. That's what I thought. I spoke into the silence before finally heading inside. I bolted the shutters, stoked the fire, and crawled into bed, still smelling the faint scent of stew on my hands.

And then... The noises started. It wasn't loud at first, just a faint disturbance, something pressing into the earth outside the cabin, a long, dragging sound. I lay completely still, eyes locked on the ceiling, heartbeat picking up. Another step, then another. I wasn't just imagining it. Something was walking through my yard.

In all my nights I'd spent here, I had heard nothing come this close to me yet. The weight of the footsteps was deep, solid, not a small scavenger, something big. I strained my ears trying to track its movement. It wasn't the erratic rustling of a hungry animal. It wasn't snuffling through the dirt looking for scraps. was just walking. I swallowed, forcing myself to stay calm. Of course it was back. Whatever wrecked my yard last night was probably checking for more food, but there wasn't anything outside this time. I smirked myself, rolling onto my side and pulling the blanket up. Chokes on you.

I close my eyes, listening as the footsteps circled the cabin. Closer now. A slow, steady crunch of something huge, pressing into the soil. Then, for a long moment, there was nothing. So, I fell asleep. When the sun finally climbed over the mountains, I was itching for answers. I grabbed my boots, stepped outside, and just stared for a second. There, pressed deep into the mountains. The damp soil were tracks.

At first I thought they were hoof prints, maybe from a deer or an elk. But as I crouched down, my stomach tightened. They were massive and wrong. The spacing, the weight distribution, they weren't four-legged. Whatever left these tracks have been walking upright, a bipedel. I traced my fingers along the edge of one, feeling the way the dirt had been compacted, picturing the size of the thing that could leave prints this deep. My head buzzed with static. No, that didn't make sense.

I stood up, scanning the yard, following the trail with my eyes. They led from the tree line straight to the porch. And then they stopped. Like whatever made them had just disappeared. That night, I didn't even try to sleep. I was done pretending this was normal. Whatever had been coming to my cabin, wasn't just looking for food. It was looking for me.

So, I stayed up, killed the fire early, doused myself in scent blocker, and sat in the darkness, knife in hand, waiting. waiting for it to come back, 143 a.m. The sound was distant, a rhythmic crunch of heavy footsteps pressing into the dirt. I gripped the knife tighter, barely breathing. It was back. The footsteps approached the porch, and then wood groaned under an impossible weight. Something was standing right outside.

The floorboards creaked, a slow dragging inhale. It was breathing. I could feel the weight of it through the walls, the pressure in the air, like the whole cabin was shrinking around me. I'd planned to peek through the window, maybe even step outside and see what it was. But I wasn't so sure in the moment, because whatever was standing on my porch wasn't a deer or a bed. air or anything else that belonged in these woods.

It sounded huge. I stayed completely still, every muscle locked, gripping the knife as hard as I could. Then, just as suddenly as it had come. It left. The weight pulled away from the porch, the footsteps retreating back toward the trees. But I knew somehow that it wasn't really gone. It was just waiting for the right moment. I didn't sleep.

I just sat there in the dark, staring at the door, knowing that I had no way out of these mountains until the guide came back. I should have grabbed my pack, walked until sunrise, and never looked back. But I was too afraid of getting lost. So, I made a plan. I wouldn't try to fight it. I wouldn't try to see it. I would just hide.

The following night, I did everything I could to erase myself. I douse myself in scent blocker, rubbing it deep into my skin, my clothes, my hair. I piled furniture in front of the bedroom door. Not that I thought it would help, but it made me feel safer. Then, gripping the only weapon I had, a rusted hunter knife I'd found in the cabin, I squeezed into the wardrobe and pulled the door shut. I sat in the dark, knees to my chest, breath slow and controlled. And then?

I waited. This time, it didn't make me wait long. At midnight, I heard it. It led out a sound, like a hyena choking on its own laughter. then a loud bang. The door downstairs shattered inward, the whole cabin shaking from the impact. Heavy footsteps, wood splintering, furniture shattering. The thing wasn't searching cautiously anymore.

It was tearing through the cabin, breaking things apart as it moved. A deep sniffing sound filled the air, dragging inhales like a dog trying to catch a scent. I pressed myself deeper into the closet, tightening my grip on the knife. The sniffing stopped. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, from just outside the bedroom, a heavy creak. It was at the door. I held my breath.

I wanted to close my eyes, to squeeze them shut and pretend I wasn't there. but some horrible part of me needed to see it. So I shifted just slightly, just enough to peer through the slats in the wardrobe door, and that's when I saw it. It had to dock under the doorframe as it stepped inside, tearing easily eight feet tall. Its body was a grotesque mixture of animals, as if something had stitched it together from several different corpses.

Its arms were long, ending in disturbingly human-like hands, except the fingers were doubled, two sets of knuckles, each twisting and crackling. Its body was covered in thick, matted fur, except for its torso, which was strangely bare, pale, scarred skin stretched tightly over its ribcage. A pair of antlers curled from its skull, but they weren't symmetrical. One was twisted, bent at the wrong angles, jutting out unnaturally. Its jaw didn't match its face.

The mouth was wide, gaping too far, filled with teeth that didn't seem to fit together. But it didn't seem to have any eyes. Herod's eyes should have been. There are only patches of dark sunken skin. It was safe to assume that it was blind. But that didn't seem to matter. It sniffed the air, turning its massive head into slow, jerking movements. It's breathing deep and uneven.

It knew something was here. And it was angry. It took another step forward, shifting its weight onto the wooden floorboards. The scent blocker was working, but I didn't know if it would be enough. I stayed still, silent, I didn't breathe. For a moment, I thought I was safe. Then, it lunged. Not toward me, but toward everything else.

It roared, slamming its fists into the walls, a gutoral, furious sound, frustration twisting its movements into wild, jerking violence. It ripped through the room, tearing the bed apart, knocking over the dresser. I gritted my teeth, trying not to flinch. Then its hands landed on the closet. My breath hitched. The wardrobe shook. I pressed myself as far back as I could, feeling the rough wooden panels against my spine.

The thing sniffed again, growled low in its throat. Then it shoved the closet over I crashed to the ground tangled in wooden fabric my knife slipping from my fingers for a single agonizing moment I thought this is it

but as I lay there frozen waiting for teeth and claws and death I heard it shuffle and then it left I don't know how long I stayed there, lying in the wreckage, staring at the ceiling, shaking so hard I thought my ribs might crack. Eventually, the sun rose. I was out of the cabin before the sun fully broke over the horizon.

No hesitation, no second-guessing. I didn't care about my supplies, my food, or the fact that I still had weeks left before the guide was supposed to come back. I just grabbed whatever I could carry. My backpack, a flashlight, the knife, a bottle of water, and I ran. I didn't look back. If I got lost, so be it. It was better than waiting to get killed by whatever that thing was. All I knew was that I couldn't be there when night fell again.

I tried to retrace my steps, following the same path the guide had led me down almost two weeks. ago. But the deeper I went into the woods, the more uncertain I became. Everything looked different. The trees felt denser, closer together, their trunks pressing in around me. The light filtering through the leaves felt dimmer than before. I tried to focus, tried to match landmarks in my head. The rock formation, I'd passed that on the way in, That fallen tree Had it been on my left before Or my right

Doubt crept into my mind Like rust The oppressive silence returned And I thought back to that article I'd read How the entire forest

goes silent When there's a predator around I wanted to believe It was an animal A bear, a deer A goddamn crocodile If that was even possible Anything

But what I knew It really was I wiped the sweat off my brow and kept moving. For whatever reason, it never showed itself during daytime. I walked for hours, the sun climbing higher in the sky, my legs burning from the effort. But no matter how far I went, the feeling never left. I was still being followed, not hunted in the way a predator goes after prey. This was different.

It was letting me tire out, toying with me. All I saw were more trees. And behind me, just at the edge of my hearing, that awful sound. One moment I was forcing my legs forward, dragging my body through the thick forest,

lungs burning with exhaustion. The next, pure survival instinct took over. Branches whipped against my arms. roots snatched at my boots. My breath came and went. My vision blurred with sweat. And still, the feeling of being followed never left. The sun was lower now, the trees stretching into elongated shadows.

And just as I thought I couldn't take another step. I saw it. The break in the trees. Houses. I stumbled forward. my body moving before my brain could process what I was looking at. A small village, old buildings, wooden storefronts, a few houses tucked between them, a church steeple rising in the distance.

It wasn't modern, not a row of houses with mailboxes and streetlights. This place felt old, weathered, like it had been sitting here, untouched for decades. I didn't care how strange it was, didn't care how it wasn't on any map I had seen before. All I cared about was that it was civilization. I had made it. I was safe. Relief flooded me so hard I almost collapsed. For the first time in hours, I felt something other than sheer terror.

I was out. I turned. I shouldn't have. I should have kept walking, should have run straight into that village screaming for help. And that's when I saw it. Standing just beyond the tree line. A figure, motionless. The last light of the sun stretched long across the dirt road,

painting the sky in shades of gold and deep violet. And just as the final sliver of daylight dipped below, the mountains. It moved slowly. It got down to a crouching position, like it was getting ready to run. The first building I reached looked like an old general store. The wooden sign above the door had long since faded, but I didn't care what it was. I just needed to find someone. I pushed through the door, the bell above jingling as I nearly collapsed inside. The air was thick with the the smell of dust and aged wood, dim lantern light flickering from the walls. A few people stood inside. Men in old work jackets, a woman behind the counter, a boy sitting on the stool

near the stove. They all turned at the same time. Their expressions were blank, not surprised or alarmed, but definitely curious. I gasped trying to catch my breath. My throat felt raw, my lungs burned. I must have looked insane, covered in sweat and dirt, shaking like I just crawled out of a grave. I tried to speak, but my voice cracked. I need help, I managed, gripping the doorframe. Something's out there, in the woods. They said nothing.

No, what are you talking about? No, slow down, son. No, that sounds crazy. Just silence. Then, after a long pause, the woman behind the counter stepped forward. She didn't even ask what I'd seen. She just looked me dead in the eye and asked, calmly, carefully, did it follow you?

If you ever end up in the mountains after sundown, Be careful, be respectful, and most importantly, don't touch the skulls. The first time someone told me that, I thought there were strange, superstitious folk. I just moved to a little town nestled in the Appalachian Mountains, looking for a new start away from the busy cities I lived in for all my life. A house with a forest for a backyard, and neighbours a mile or so away, sounded perfect at the time. It's what led me to buying the property in the first place.

Now, I think I regret that decision. Don't get me wrong, the house is nice. It has a few problems like a creaking porch, and the kitchen's a bit too small for my liking. But it's cute. Quaint is what the realtor kept saying when she showed me the rooms, and I agreed with her. Even if it is a little small, the real selling point was the acres of forest that would be considered mine. I remember my first trip to the town at the base of the mountain, a small place where everyone knows each other.

Naturally, some weren't sure about me, but most were actually nice. Asking where I grew up, what I did for work, no more questions until the owner of the only grocery store in town, Mr Faraday asked me if I planned on hiking in the forest. Well, yeah, of course. I think I laughed as he bagged up my groceries, eyeing me the entire time. Of course, silly question.

He agreed as he handed me the bags, then continued. The forest is perfectly safe during the day. Just get home once the sun starts setting. You're asking for trouble with the wildlife, or you'll get lost if it gets too dark. Anything in particular I should worry about? We get black bears sometimes. Yell at them, though, and they'll run usually.

Scaredy cats, a lot of them, unless you find a mama. Moose, foxes, wild boars, wolves. I paused in gathering at my bags and repeated. Wals? I thought wolves were extinct here in the Appalachians. Mr. Faraday shrugged and ignored my question, continuing like I hadn't said anything. Be careful out there. Always take water. Be respectful. Don't be one of them city folk that makes a mess of the place. See a flower and think it's pretty. You take a picture and leave it alone.

Easy enough. Anything else I should do? I wanted to be nice and not just blow the guy off, even if most of his advice was common sense. Then again, I didn't doubt there had been trouble in the past with some outsiders. It happened all the time of the parks I would go to as a kid, jerks that would come through and leave beer cans or cigarette butts everywhere. He met my eyes, staring for a second too soon, before he replied,

If you see skulls or bones, Don't touch them. If they're in the way, you go around them. I stared back, feeling uneasy as he suddenly smiled and said, You come back soon, you hear. Aaron specials every week on fresh produce and meat. I should have listened better to him. The first few times I ventured into the forest,

it was always in the late morning. There's an old trail behind the house, overgrown but still usable, and use it I did. The forest is beautiful. There are all kinds of songbirds and small animals and interesting plant life to see. I tried going in the morning when it wasn't too hot. I made sure to bring water and wore good hiking boots whenever I had time for a walk before work. There is a point in the trail where it branches off in two directions,

and that is the point where I turn back around. The last thing I wanted was to choose the wrong path and end up hopelessly lost or unable to find my way back. Then work changed my schedule, so I started to start. started going in the late afternoon. I stared out longer, just getting done with my hike as the sky was bathed in pinks and orange, the sun no longer visible,

were giving just enough light. I never noticed anything different between the morning and late afternoon hikes, other than less birds singing. Then, small things began to happen. Little oddities that were easy to ride off. Trees that had long scratches down the trunks, the song birds quieting down,

at the start of my afternoon hikes rather than towards the end. I figured it was from the seasons changing, the night getting longer and days shortening. I had to be quick about my daily routine, only let myself get maybe a mile into the forest before turning around. Even if I didn't believe the townsfolk that had gotten more vocal about being mindful of myself in the woods, I still didn't want to get lost. Then I came across a deer school. It was in the middle of the path back to my house, bleached and cracked, looking far too old.

I looked around the trees to see if anyone was around, because it hadn't been there on my way up to the mountain. I even called out, nervous. Hello? And it got nothing. The idea of leaving it where I constantly treaded made me sick, so I grabbed a stick and carefully put it through one of the eye sockets. I took a breath, then tossed it off into it. the trees, watching it as it hit the ground before dropping the stick and quickly make my way back home. That's when the howling started. It woke me up in the dead of night, a long, lone

howl off in the distance. I was confused, startled, because until that point, I had never heard a wolf howl before that wasn't on TV. I didn't even know if that's what it was. I laid there for a while, it, then turn on some music to drown it out and go back to sleep. For a week, I would wake up in a cold sweat, and the wolf would be singing away until I finally started going to sleep with music. I asked about it the next time I went into town, curious if anyone else heard it. Nobody did. Mr. Faraday shook his head and said he hadn't heard any noise as he gave me change from my groceries. The pharmacist told me it was probably just a lonely or hurt animal when I was looking for some

sleep aid. Even the waitress at the diner shrugged and said, Haven't heard a thing, honey. Just make sure to keep your doors locked. Always better to be safe than sorry. The next time I went into the forest, I made sure it was right after work, so I could enjoy a nice long stroll. The trees with the scratches were closer to my home, but I shrugged it off, figuring it was a bear or a moose. I did my usual circuit, follow the trail until I got to where it branches off and took a minor break, sitting on a fallen tree to drink some water. As I got up to start my way down,

I noticed that the forest had become quiet. I felt nervous, glancing around and look for a reason like a bear stalking about, but found nothing. At that point, I quickly headed back home and nearly tripped over another skull. A moose school, going off the huge antlers, still a tail. to the white bone, perfectly preserved and staring in my direction. I looked around, wanting to find out who was messing with me, but I couldn't see anything but the trees and lush ferns.

I thought about picking it up and throwing it to the side, but I took a deep breath and walked around it, then began running back home. It appeared two more times before I had had enough. On the third time, I picked it up and threw it into the trees. I didn't stay to watch where it landed, and the moment I got home, I slammed the door and locked up everything. I was shaking, trembling in my kitchen, after locking the back door and dared to look out the window. I didn't see anything, but I felt like something was watching me.

A howl didn't wake me up that night. The sound of my porch creaking did. The groaning of wood had my eyes snapping open as my heart leapt into my throat. I laid in bed, unable to move when I heard a low growl near my window. The curtain was drawn, so I couldn't see outside, but I could hear whatever it was. The sound was that of an animal, but something didn't quite sound right. I tried putting my finger on it when the growling stopped for a second. Then a howl rattled my windows and my bones.

I rushed to my bathroom, the only place in the house that had no windows and slammed the door shut, curling up in the bathtub. I didn't move until my alarm rang at seven and the sun was shining through the curtains. It kept happening. Every night the Portual Creek, the growling would begin, then finally the howls that lasted until the sun came up. I had enough by the fourth or fifth night and drove back to town, functioning on a cocktail of adrenaline, fear and caffeine. I had to wait for the store to open, but the moment it did, I sought out Mr. Faraday, who was stocking some items on the shelves. He glanced at me and said, You look like hell. If you need help sleeping, you should see a doctor. Something keeps showing up

at my house. I think it's that wolf I was telling you about. He froze, a slight tremor in his fingers before he turned, calling. Sarah, mind the front. I'll be back. He didn't wait for a reply and instead headed to the back of the store, motioning for me to come along. I did so, following him through the door that led outside. Once out in the too sunny morning, he lit a cigarette and sighed. I told you to mind the bones. I broke down at the point, lack of sleep leaving me without a filter.

It kept showing up. I ignored it the first time and it kept getting in my way. What was it? At Moose School. There was another school two weeks ago. It was a deer, but I moved that with a stick. A shake of the head. Still count, son.

What happened after you moved the deer? I admitted that's when the howling first started, but he was far off in the distance, easy to ignore. Something that had him frowning, but not interrupting, until I finally asked. It's Not a wolf, is it? Mr Faraday looked at me for a long time

Then stubbed out the cigarette Before reaching for another one I told you what not to do And yet you did it Now you've got a mess to deal with Open my mouth So ready to demand he answered my question But he kept going

Now listen here and you listen You're going to buy some meat The reddest, bloodiest meat I have then go home and put it in the fridge. In the sunny setting, you're going to go into that forest with the meat and put it on the path. The minute you do that, you turn tail and run home. You don't look back, no matter what sounds you hear or feeling you get. You run and lock up tight.

It'll just go away? Just like that? I asked, feeling a tiny bit hopeful. The next words dashed. hopes away. Nothing is guaranteed, son. This is you trying to make amends. It doesn't mean you'll be forgiven. Anger boiled in me and I snapped at him. I didn't even do anything. He shook his head with a small frown and said, You showed disrespect and acknowledged them. That's enough in a place like this. I opened my mouth but he brushed past me and asked,

you're going to buy the meat or what? I ended up doing so. I didn't know what else to do and figured, why not just go along with it? I couldn't explain anything else, so why not try to make amends? I bought the bloodiest stakes I could and drove back home in a day's. I set an alarm to ring just before sundown and crashed my couch until then. It was surreal, walking out to the trail as the sun began its descent. I noticed that more and more trees had the strange scratches on them and shuddered at the idea of something, or many somethings, being so close to the house.

I walked about ten minutes of the path before laying out the stakes. It was disgusting, the blood collecting on the brown butcher paper, but I piled them up and looked around. I couldn't see anything, just the usual trees, and decided to head back home. I took a handful of steps. when I heard it A low growling from behind me That had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up

Heavy thumping followed the growling Getting closer and closer And breaking me out of my stupor I got my feet moving again And headed back to the house As the sound of teeth ripping into raw meat Met my ears Once I was at the end of the path

My home in sight I dared to turn my head Before I ran back to the house scrambling up the porch and barely slamming the door shut in time. It had been right behind me, following like an obedient dog. Only, it wasn't a dog, not even a wolf. I had to brace myself against the door as it slammed into the wood, growling and grunting. I managed to lock it, just barely before rushing to the front door to make sure he was locked as well.

It nearly beat me. I hit the door just as it started to open and pushed my entire body weight against it. It was barely enough to keep it out as I flicked the lock. I stumbled back, shaking and panting, staring at the door as the growling began all over again. This time I followed it to the back porch and peered through the window. It walked on four legs, fingers spayed out with long claws for nails

and covered in black fur in some places, pale human skin in others. As it walked, the back legs bent unnaturally and made a horrific snapping noise, the bones visible through the skin and twisting with every movement. The head is the most disturbing, a bloodied muzzle that's stretched out too much for a wolf, eyes glowing red and can open the mouth far too wide. The vangs were all black and red with blood, too long, too curved. When it closes its jaw, blood oozed out. I stared at it and it stared at me before the lips peel back into a sort of demented smile.

The growling stopping and instead a new sound started. A sharp, high-pitched laugh. Human almost filled the air. I shivered, ready to shut the curtains. And I heard more laughter. I looked beyond it and froze at the sight of more pairs of red eyes out in the forest. The heckling grew in volume, echoing until it's all I heard. Even now, I still hear it.

I hid in the bathroom again, feeling like a child, and praying that my doors and windows would hold. Once the sun came up and I mustered up enough courage to get to my car, I found dozens and dozens of skulls on my porch, all different shapes and sizes. Some bleached white, others black with decay. Some red and others laying in pools of blood. One of them was human. I wanted to run to the car, bulldozed through the bones, but instead I forced myself to carefully step over each and every one of them. Once I got back into town, I sought out Mr. Faraday.

He listened quietly to my account, looking disappointed and annoyed by the time I was done, and said, I told you not to look. now you really made a mess, not just for you, but for everyone. My blood ran cold and I asked, What do you mean? Everyone heard them last night's son, because of your screw-up. He closed his eyes and lit his cigarette, even though he stood in the paper goods tile.

What if I just leave, just go back to where it came from? He shook his head and flicked the ashes onto the ground, uncaring of where they ended up. Then what? What do I do? You're going to clean up your mess. A hunting party is gathering at the diner at sundown. You better be there. I asked if you really thought they could be killed, if it was possible.

And he waved his hand and said, We've done it before, son. You're not the first one to not listen. You won't be the last. But you made the trouble. You better be ready to help get rid of it. I swallowed, hesitating. Then dared to ask, do people not come back from hunting?

All the time. This time won't be any different. Sun down sun, or will not just be hunting them, but you too. We gathered at the diner and I've been given a shotgun and a crash course on how to use it, shown how to load it, told what not to do and what to watch out for. According to Mr Faraday, who was around for the last purge, the wolves of the Appalachians is what they call them. He's sticking close to me. He says having a buddy nearby is important.

It's safer this way. The wolves like to drag people into the forest or decapitate the victims. They collect their skulls. The bullets I have are supposed to be special, blessed by the priest and bathed in holy water or something like that. I've never hunted before. That's why I'm leaving this account in case... I don't come back. Hunting accidents happen all the time.

That's what the townsfolk will say if anyone comes asking about me. Or anyone that doesn't come back. The sun hasn't set yet, given us time to prepare, and the priest's time to bless every bullet he can. But... We can hear them already. The wolves. I'm laughing again.

It was just another normal walk. That's how it started anyway. A casual morning stroll on the forested trail that ran behind my parents' house. They owned a home on a couple acres in the small town of Skyline, Alabama. At the time, I was in between jobs and had been living with them as I tried to get back on my feet. Their property intersex with a winding trail that ran for miles through some unkempt wood. some unkempt woods in the boonies. In the mornings,

the Appalachian Hills would come alive with the songs of birds and fluttering insects. The Crimson Sunrise would paint a beautiful portrait as it filtered down through the bristling leaves of aspen and spruce trees. There was something about that place that just made me feel at peace.

It was like all the stress and anxiety of modern day worries just faded away. It was my Zen place. Until the day, it was shattered forever. The day it happened, I woke up a bit before dawn, had my coffee, and went out for an early morning walk. The sun had just begun to creep over the horizon when I left the house. I hadn't planned on being gone any longer than an hour and had only been walking about 15 minutes when I noticed something strange.

The path around me was oddly silent. with the only noise coming from the sounds of my own footsteps against the gravel. The usual sounds of woodland creatures or wind gently rusting the trees were absent. Everything was just completely silent. It didn't really bother me at first, but the longer it went on, the stranger it seemed. I finally stopped to try and determine whether it was some auditory illusion of some kind. I listened for any. of the usual sounds, cars on the highway a few miles out, lawnmowers fired up by the neighbours,

or just any noise at all. But there was nothing, just silence. All of a sudden I began to feel light-headed. My vision started swimming and my knees wobbled beneath me. The hairs in my arms stood an end and a cold sweat dampened my brow. I didn't understand what was happening, but in seconds I was struggling just to remain standing. Panic struck hard and I desperately reached on my phone thinking I was having a medical emergency. I never managed to reach it and I just seemed to lose all control of my body and fall face first

to the ground. I still don't know exactly what happened, but it must have been a seizure or a fainting spell of some kind. What I do know is that when I finally came to, I wasn't where I was before. The environment was pitch black and suddenly cold. Only when I struggled and felt my knee knock into something solid did I realize I was awake. The sudden jolt struck right on the funny bone, caused me to wince in pain. I tried to reach my hand out to rub the aching nerve, but found I couldn't. There was something restricting my movement, something cold and covered in a sticky substance.

My whole body was pinned vertically against the wall. Thankfully, the binds were not entirely restrictive and I managed to finagle the cell phone out of my pocket. I flipped it open and the light glowed in the dark. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to see where I was. That's when the true dread set in. As far as I could tell, I was in some sort of underground tunnel. The blinds that restricted me looked almost like the roots of trees. They felt different though, more like dried mud than plant.

They were grayish in colour and coated with random splotches of this greenish-black goo. It was sticky like tree sap and hung in gobs of tendrils from all over that smelled truly foul. I almost had a panic attack in that moment, as I realized I had absolutely no idea where I was or how I'd gotten there. My initial thought was that there was some weird caving or earthquake, which somehow led me to ending up where I did. I shined my phone up at the ceiling, but saw only the rigid outline of the rocky walls. No phoeia or gaps I could have slid through. and thus that potential explanation died a quick, unceremonious death. My next thought was that I had been abducted by someone.

I thought about yelling for help, but if that were true, then I doubted there would be likely to come to my aid. I realised an explanation in that moment was not nearly as important as actually getting out. I wiggled back and forth a bit. It was clear that wasn't going to be enough to escape. I shined the phone around the corridor, using what sparse lighting it provided to try and formulate a plan. I caught a break when the light gleamed off some shiny metallic object only a few feet to my right. It was too far for my hand to reach, and so I extended my right foot out as much as I could. After struggling for a few minutes, I finally managed to dig my heel down on top of it and drag it back towards me.

I then managed to press it against the wall and move it vertically so I could reach it with my hand. It was some sort of bent iron rod. I don't know how it had possibly gotten down there, but I was nonetheless happy it had. After slowly wedging it into one of the ruts,

I managed to push outward and cause it to crack. The roots, or whatever they were, crumbled with relative ease. A few of them, broke away, and within a couple moments, I managed to push my arm free. Soon after, I managed to slide my entire body up and out of the hole I had created. Somehow, it was only then that I remembered my phone was good for something besides shining

crap light. I dialed 911, but to no surprise, the call didn't go through. That seemed another confirmation that I was somewhere underground, but had no way of telling how deep. I realised then that in all likelihood no one was coming to find me. The time on my phone read 1148am, meaning I'd been out cold for nearly six hours. I had most of the same clothes on, a pair of tan cargo shorts and my running shoes. The only thing missing was my Crimson Alabama University hoodie. After looking around, I saw no sign of it. The air felt chilly and stagnant, and I shuddered as I rub the goosebumps on my exposed arms.

Other than my thin layer of clothing, I also had my phone, leather multi-tool, keys, a bag of gum and chapstick. Not exactly a wilderness survival expert's emergency pack. The corridor was unnervingly silent, devoid of any cave ambience. No howling wind, leaking in cracks, or distant drips of water. Just silence. intrusive and all-consuming. I started to walk, squinting to try and maximise my ocular reception under the minimal light of my cell phone.

Each footstep I took, I did so with the utmost caution I was capable. It felt as though every sense of my body had been hypercharged from the onset of adrenaline and confusion. Before leaving the area, I had one last look back at the root system that had formerly impressed I thought struck me then as I observed it from further away. It almost looked like some sort of primitive cage. The tunnel stretched on for dozens of yards. Along the ground I started finding tufts of what appeared to be dried grass and straw randomly

strewn about. Beyond that, the tunnel came to a bend to the left and the trail of grass continued towards it. Once around the corner, my eyes were met with the the site of an open cavern. In the waning light of my flip phone it was difficult to tell, but it was clearly of much greater volume than the previous tunnel. In front of me was a large pile of sticks and dried grass, similar to that I'd seen earlier.

Beyond that, the walls came to a sort of arch that briefly narrowed two dozen yards ahead of me, before seeming to expand out again in the next chamber. On top of the stone arch was a structure almost resembling a natural limestone bridge that seemed to connect two separate ledges some 30 feet above me. Above that there appeared to be another open space, but once again my lack of proficient lighting made it difficult to tell. I tiptoed into the first section of the cave, keeping my head on a swivel. I reached the pile of debris and decided to dig within it to see if there was anything used

After finding a long stick a moment later, an idea blossomed in my mind. I collected a few twigs and cut a long vertical strip off my belt with my pocket knife. I then removed both of my boots and socks, fashion the socks into a sort of pouch, stuffed them with grass and twigs, and slipped it over the end of the stick. Once it seemed suitable enough, I took out my pack of gum, popped a piece in, while cutting the wrapper in a way to make it one long long. long strand of foil. I punched the foil into a cluster and popped the battery out to my cell phone.

I placed the torch end in a pile of brush, then move the foil cluster beneath it. Carefully, I took the two ends of the striped foil and pressed one into each of the battery's terminals. In seconds, the strand began to smoke and then burst into a small flame in the brush. The flame took to the dry grass quickly, and I watched the crimson hue. dance along the pile. Thank you, Boy Scouts. Don't know what I would have done without that little trick.

A second later, my makeshift torch ignited. The flame grew stronger, penetrating further into the shadowy canopy around me. The panic in my mind diminished ever so slightly as the orange glow of the torch painted an encouraging trail through the dark. As I turned to my left, my torch glinted off of something upon the cave wall that caught my eye. I thought for sure I'd seen it wrong, but as I got closer, a series of distant shapes came into view. On the porous grey rock, about four feet off the ground, were a series of cave paintings.

They started low and spread for at least a dozen of feet up the side of the wall. There were all sorts of things depicted. Most were little more than scrawny stick figure drawings of people, but there were a few of animals as well. One scene that stood out from the others, three tall figures were drawn above a horizon line, and three shorter ones were drawn down below it. The way the scene was centered on the wall made it seem significant, but I didn't understand why. The torch was burning quickly, so I maneuvered forward into the large open chamber beyond the archway. The fallen column above the arch appeared to bridge the gap between two rising levels.

edges about 30 feet up. The way it was wedged made it look like it was done so intentionally, like someone carved it out of the rock. The roof of the cavern beyond the structure had bared to curl upward, and I wondered whether there was

more to see. I stepped beyond it, and felt my jaw nearly hit the floor as I got my answer. The room beyond the arch transitioned abruptly into an absolutely colossal chamber that appeared to extend upward for at least several hundred feet.

Suddenly, it was bright enough to see without the torch, and I knew that meant light had to be filtering in from somewhere at the top. That realization provided hope, but also disbelief. How far underground was I? The chamber branched out at various points into countless winding passages and pieces of rock ran overhead as makeshift bridges, looking like enormous veins in a massive stone organ. In the center was a massive center spire of rock that seemed to stretch all the way to the top. Many of the veins were connected to it, making it seem like a sort of central anchor.

Something then suddenly moved a couple hundred feet up. I didn't see what it was, but I heard pebble shuffle and plunge from above. They hit the ground with thunderous clanks, sounding like popcorn popping through a megaphone. Not knowing what caused it, and not exactly yearning to find out. I dug back underneath the arch. I waited there for a minute or so, but didn't hear any further noise. It was clear then that I wasn't alone down there, and metallic lean shone that caught my attention from the brush pile in front of me.

After looking closer, I recognised the distant shape of a long barrel jutting from underneath the pile. Part of me couldn't even believe what I was seeing, but as it got nearer and pulled it out, things just got even stranger. It was a musket. Old school, flintlock kind, like the one from the Manifest Destiny era. It was in poor condition and obviously wouldn't be super. suitable for self-defense, except maybe a vulgar club. But that wasn't what held my attention. If it was authentic, and judging from the advanced rust and the hide, it seemed like it

could have been, then it had to have been nearly two hundred years old. After digging around for a few more moments, I quickly stumbled upon other treasures, an old leather belt and added a sneaker, a broken machete, a knapsack, and finally. a bone. I dropped it as soon as I realized what it was that I was holding. It looked like a large thigh bone of an animal, probably a horse or a moose. An extremely worrying thought then entered my head, one which sprouted goosebumps along my arms. I glanced around at the environment, seeing the large gathered pile of sticks and other things.

The way the bundles were arranged made it almost look like it was some kind of nest. Even then, it seemed like a ridiculous notion. The pile was at least 30 feet in diameter. There's no creature on earth that makes a nest that big, at least not that I know of. I couldn't calm my nerves after that thought and decided to just continue trying to move upwards and reach the top, and more importantly, the light. Once past the pile, I found myself faced with this series of three branching tunnels. One of them appeared to slope downward and after a moment of contemplation I decided to just take the one on the far left that veered up. My torch began to dim and I did everything I could to maintain the flame for as long as possible.

My pockets soon began to run dry of grass and the cave once again grew dark. After a couple more seconds it was little more than smouldering ashes. Once again I found myself alone in the dark. I grabbed the cell phone from my pocket and silently debated whether or not to go back for more fuel. An awful stench then accosted my nostrils like the malaise of a polluted rolling tide. It smelled like sewage and rotten eggs. The scent became so overwhelming that I felt my eyes begin to water and bile climbing my throat. Along the nauseous scent was an overwhelming sense of impending doom,

like my olfactory senses had triggered some deep primal fear hidden deep within my subconscious. I flipped open my phone and prayed my gutter was wrong. The light from it barely made a difference, but it was enough to confirm my worst fear. I nearly dropped the phone as the outline of a decaying human hand became visible further down the corridor. Out of instinct, I took a step back and covered my mouth as I wretched. Unfortunately, there was no real choice aside from proceeding. I popped in a fresh piece of gum and prayed that my eyes had deceived me as I stepped forward. It was even worse up close than even my imagination had built it up to be.

Partially skeletonized hands and legs dangling with gangrene ribbons of flesh attached to a rotative corpse seated against the wall, blackened intestines spewing from the gut like dead worms from some grotesque, mouldy fruit. The head was missing entirely, and there was no indication as to where it had gone. My instincts were all but begging me to flee. I had every intention of doing so, until I saw a small knapsack on the ground beside the remains. a hunch it may provide something useful, and seeing out the person clearly no longer had any use for it, I decided to take it.

Once I logged it onto my back, I said a few parting words for the nameless corpse and moved on. As if it wasn't obvious before, that moment was when I truly realized the severity of my situation. Before that, I'd almost assured myself that me waking up there was some kind of mistake or odd coincidence. But after seeing that, I abandoned that rationale. Anxiety constricted my mind as I wondered whether I'd been kidnapped by some perverse serial killer, chained up like a pig ready for slaughter whenever he thought to entertain the notion. After putting sufficient distance between myself and the corpse, I knelt down

and popped open the knapsack. Inside, I struck gold with a flashlight, a box of matches, a half-full water bottle, a pack of granola bars and a few magazines. Those were all most welcome additions. But much to my chagrin, there was nothing to identify who the person was, or how they'd gotten there. At least the flashlight still had some juice left in it. I flicked the switch and watched the flashlight sputter to life and blaze a trail through the passage. The tunnel was pretty unremarkable, appearing as just a long, winding passage that led upward. Ever since the brush pile, I hadn't heard so much as a single decibel of sound.

I never really realized how comforting background white noises until I was forced to go without it. After a couple more minutes of walking in utter silence, I reached another open chamber. Two more branching passages lay further ahead and seemed to stretch in nearly opposing directions. One branched out left and one right with both seem to be. to lead upwards. As I approached the two passages, I then noticed there was another directly above me on the ceiling.

I looked up to see an extending shoot stretched for countless feet above me. Even the light of the flashlight was not enough to illuminate its entire length. Obviously, I had no means of traversing the vertical shaft, but the discovery made things even more mystifying. I elected

to take the left tunnel in hopes it would lead to a higher level of the cavern. Before I could enter one of them though, my footsteps disrupted a pile of pebbles and sent them skittering outward across the ground. I froze, cursing myself in the noise and hoping nothing had been alerted by it. My mind was flooded with a torrent of catastrophic thoughts.

It felt like breaking the silence within that place was somehow a graven sin in and of itself. Luckily for me, there was no other noises. The further I went, the less likely it seemed like the cavern was a natural formation. The walls had almost patterned groove marks in them, as if something had methodically yet borrously dug them out. A worrying thought manifested, as I remembered the apparent nest from earlier. Maybe this was a den of some massive unknown creature.

For some reason, I thought of Shilob, the giant spider of him, of the rings, and obviously the thought did not bring any comfort whatsoever. It seemed ridiculous, of course, but darkness and silence can play cruel tricks on a solitary mind. I hoped that's all it was, and I did my best to suppress them and continue on. I dropped a piece of gum at the entrance of the next tunnel and continued walking. The idea was to use the Glint on the shiny wrapper from the flashlight as a rudimentary map to help me find my way back to where I started if it came down to that. The more I went though, the more I doubted and hoped I would not have to resort to that tactic. All sense of direction in that place was restricted to a bare minimum, as with even as short as I had travelled,

I had no real sense of where I was in relation to where I had started. That tunnel seemed to bend and twist like an enclosed spiral staircase on an endless incline. Finally, as I rounded yet another bend, I saw a dull light breaching the other end. I ventured forward, and once more, the room elongated into that massive open chamber. There were some unusual items spread across the ground there as well. Splintered pieces of wood, along with a half-destroyed wooden chair. There was also a scattering of copper-coloured coins across the ground, but I didn't recognise the denomination. However, one item stood out right away.

An old, rusted, sword. I made my way over and knelt to inspect it on the ground. Looked like an old cavalry sabre from the Civil War era. The hilt was rounded and encrusted with bronze, and the metal blade had clearly seen better years. It looked authentic like the rifle from earlier But of course that would lead to the quite elaborate conclusion that It had been there for a couple hundred years I didn't think much about it in the moment though

I was just happy to have a weapon Hello The sudden voice froze me up like a breeze in the dead of winter I killed the flashlight and dug down Hello Oh, anyone? The ethereal voice sounded like a young girl calling from somewhere within the cave. A vocal inflection quite clearly conveyed a terror, and I found my heart quiver.

The thought of a young girl alone in that place and terrified was haunting, and my instincts demanded I tried to help. I crept onward from the room and found myself once more entering the massive chamber from earlier, this time on a higher level. The cavern loomed large like an ancient empty tomb and felt as though I were a single ant in an alien termite colony. Down below I heard the footsteps of the girl whimpering and I approached the ledge to try and spotter.

The area beneath me was shrouded in shadow and I saw nothing upon first glance. I debated upon turning my flashlight back on and shining down. but some parts of me wouldn't comply with the thought. Like I knew it was the right thing to do, but fear had constricted me and wouldn't allow my hand to cooperate. I peaked over the edge,

waiting in darkness to try and see her. Her hushed sobs and frantic breaths met my ears, but I couldn't determine exactly where they were coming from. I kept quiet and continued listening. But something strange. then happened. Hammerford cries changed pitch and suddenly morphed into what I can only describe as a hooting, almost manic animal screech. It was the weirdest thing I'd ever heard.

Something then darted through the darkness down below me. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was quick. It disappeared in a split second and I was forced to entertain the ridiculous notion. Maybe those sounds were not meant a signal distress. Maybe it was a lure. I can't exactly say why that a nerving thought entered my mind, but I picked up the pace a bit from then on. I crossed the fallen column to reach a higher elevation of ledges,

sneaking glances down below to keep an eye out for whatever that thing was. Luckily, I managed to cross without incident and kept manoeuvring further into the convoluted cave system. Every path which seemed to incline upwards was the one I took. Every tunnel I took, I left another piece of wrapped gum at the entryway, and the pack continued to dwindle. Most corridors and rooms I came to held very little of interest, found a few sparse piles of animal bones,

as well as various personal belongings scattered around. The items I found in no particular order were an old brief, case, a torn pair of jeans, a solo winter boot, a Chicago Cubs baseball hat, and a lunchbox with spoiled contents. All of it was rather asinine, but then I came to that room. It was tucked away behind a large room that split into several other paths. By this point, I was at least several hundred feet above where I had started. The room itself was little more than a small separate grotto, but the items inside I found truly interesting. Most were articles of clothing, shirts, jackets, pants, hats and shoes of all sorts, numbering in the hundreds. I also saw a cane,

a fishing pole, a baseball bat, a deflated football, and a small drink cooler. All the items in that room seemingly had a single thing in common. They all were either in tight, or primarily, red. It looked as though someone had collected them over the years, and some of the articles

and items looked decades old at the very least. I kept my new saber clutches tightly as I waded my way through the debris. I was then struck by the epiphany that my suspiciously absent hoodie had also been read.

I looked around for it briefly, but didn't find it. It got me thinking, though, maybe red was the reason I was there in the first place. Of course, I knew by then that I was not alone in that cave and likely had been abducted to arrive there by someone or something. Maybe whatever had taken me didn't like red, or maybe they were attracted to it. Back outside, and I was once again met with another fallen column that led up to another higher ledge.

This one was different, though. incredibly steep and worn. There appeared to be no easy way up and no other real path to follow. I could see the light growing more luminous above me and knew the steep path was my only option to reach it. I stashed the sword on the back of my belt and began to climb. The rocks were slick and parts of them crumbled as I grabbed.

I moved slowly, trying to stay both alive and quiet as much as possible. The road was tough, but I pushed on. I was nearing the halfway point when something stopped me dead in my tracks. Somewhere far above, I heard the sounds of pebbles tumbling down the cavern slopes. I looked up and saw a dusty cloud of residue blossom off the cavern wall. My eyes rapidly scanned the area above, but I didn't see anything that could have caused it. I was just about to continue when I spotted something strange. The dull light was flickering in from above,

just barely illuminating the cavern. It was in that mystical twilight canopy that I saw it. On the far wall, there was a small spot where the light appeared to shimmer in an odd fashion. I didn't understand what I was seeing at first and just stared at the odd image. It almost looked like something translucent, was partially obscuring the light,

like an impossible patch of water held together by some unknown force. I must have blinked or something because one moment it was there and the next, it was gone. A cold chill crept down my spine and I decided the best thing I could do

was just keep moving. After taking a moment to level out my breaths, I continued onward and thankfully reached the next ledge. Once I hold myself up, I peered back down over the ledge and saw the chamber plunge downward into obscurity. By that point I was nearing the top where the light was coming from. I just hoped that all the effort to get there would be worth it.

The room beyond that ledge was yet another empty space, or at least I thought it was. Once inside my flashlight gleamed off of one of the walls and illuminated several patterns and the rock. The entire thing appeared haphazardly scrawled in some sort of black ink. It was only when I backed further away from the wall that I realized what it was. At first, I saw only squiggled lines, bloated ovals and winding tubes. Then I saw the X carved into one side. A realization struck me then. It... It was a map.

It was crudely made, but after further examination, I recognised that the X section was similar to the cavern I was in. The paths drawn also seemed to vaguely reflect the ones I'd taken to reach that point. My eyes grew wide as I made the undeniable discovery that if the map was in some way accurate, then I hadn't seen anything yet. The colossal chamber I was currently in was only a tiny fraction of the entire piece. I counted six or seven other sections that were at least double the size. The end of the portrait seemed to fizzle away, as if whoever had drawn it had not yet completed the entire thing. That realization was staggering.

Just how big is this place? I took a picture of the diagram with my cell phone and moved on. There were sudden noises and clangs far off in the distance, and I decided to move towards the light as quickly as I could. According to the crude map, the way out of the labyrinth was near. If it was anywhere near true proportions, then I was about three-fourths of the way there. I just had a little bit higher to go, but the worst was yet to come. I advanced onto yet another tunnel and began the arduous climb upward.

I could see the light getting nearer and just hoped that there was an actual means of getting Luckily, after rounding a few corners, I came face to face with just about the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The exit. In the ceiling, there were several partial transparent films of unknown material stretched over holes. The light was gently beaming in from above, and I knew it had to be a way out. The only question was how was I going to reach it? as the ceiling was well over 20 feet up. I made my approach into the open cavern

and stared upwards at the patches of rock above me. There were grooves and indentations in the side of the wall and I thought I might use them to climb up. It looked possible. But I didn't get the chance to try then. Out of the blue, I was suddenly struck in the chest by something. The blow was sudden, completely unexpearlane. and sharp.

I crumpled to my knees and held my ribs where the blow had struck, feeling blood began to spill from several open wounds of my abdomen. I then had a sudden pitter-batter of feet scampering by me. My eyes frantically darted around the room, but I did not see my assaulter anywhere, even though they had passed right by me. It didn't make any sense. A plume of dust was then disturbed above me. I looked up and saw something I still cannot fully explain. It was the same odd shimmering anomaly of the light that I'd seen before. It was closer this time, perched just above me on the ceiling.

It was different than before though. There was a distinct shape to it, at least partially, like it looked different than the area around it. For any of those who've played the Halo franchise, just put. pictured the translucent silhouette of an active camo upgrade and that's basically how it looked. Something that was either partially cloaked or my eyes just weren't capable of fully perceiving it. It then moved and my heart dropped like a lead weight. There was definitely something up there and I had no idea what it was. Its outline looked vaguely humanoid but it was hard to tell for certain. The saber in my hand quivered as I held it.

it out towards the thing. The three separate wounds in my chest stung like hornets venom, and I realized then that the pattern of them almost looked like something inflicted by claws. We just stared at one another for the longest time, before it suddenly made this sort of hooting noise. I then watched as it leaked several feet and then disappeared into the shadows. Finges fell silent once more, and I seized my chance. Freedom was only a simple climb away, and with that in mind I made a scramble for it. I began my climb up the wall. It was jagged and I felt rocks puncture into my hands, but I didn't care.

I just had to get out. I was nearing the halfway point when suddenly something slammed into my back. The impact caused me to lose grip and plummet about ten feet back. to the cabin floor. I struck hard with my head, bouncing off the solid dirt. The room wobbled around me, and my head pulsed from the impact. Something then touched down ahead of me. I tried to stabilize my vision and clutched tightly under the rusted sabre as my only means of defense. As I rose to my feet, I felt the thing slamming to me. The two of us fell and rolled under the dirt, wrestling and flailing about.

Its claws were like razors and piran-like teeth tore into my flesh like ribbons. I fought back and struggled so I'm managing to force the thing off of me. I'd barely even see what I was fighting. But as we broke apart and it tried to slink back into the shadows

I saw blood shining on its torso. I stepped forward and slashed horizontally with a saber. I felt the tip strike and tear through its translucent hide. It seemed only like a minor wound, but the thing went ballistic.

I can't even possibly describe the multi-layed cacophony the thing produced. Voices of animals all blended into random blurbs of vocalized pain. It flailed about, wailing in a god-awful tone, as if suddenly driven to autumn madness by what was honestly just a minor wound. In sheer disbelief, I watched it suddenly leap, or perhaps stumble over the ledge and plummet to the chasm below. It struck a hard squelch a second later, and the silence returned. It didn't last though, and before I could even ask myself what the hell had just happened, I heard something down below. It began as a chorus of hoots, grunts, and indistinct noises.

I heard pebbles scuttling about, and the aggravated voices grew in volume. There were more of them, many more of them. The only option I had was the holes up above and so once more I dashed towards the rock wall. I scrambled up as quickly as I could as the hoard of camouflage things

climbed from the abyss below. I heard them right beneath me as I reached the hole in the ceiling. There was some sort of thin film material covering the hole but luckily I was able to push right through it. Daylight seared into my eyes

as I plunged upwards and burst out of the cave. The light accosted my retinas, and it took a moment to adjust after being locked in the darkness for so long. There were boulders around me, and trees in the distance illuminated by a setting sun. Just as I was about to lunge outward, something grabbed a hold of my leg.

I felt claws sinking into my leg and tear into the flesh. I kicked and fought back with all the strength I had, refusing to be dragged back down into the cave. without a fight. My finger was cracked as I clung with all my might under the ledge and kicked around wildly. By some miracle, I felt that things gripped relinquish on my leg. I hobbled to my feet as the chorus of sounds wailed from below. My leg was blooded, but the pain barely registered. Adrenaline had taken full control and I galloped into a run. I didn't care

where I was going. I just knew I had to get as far away from there as possible. I don't think I've ever ran for so long in my life. I heard them following me and I knew if I stopped for even a moment, I was dead. It was dark before I finally saw smoke wafting in the distance. With every last ounce of strength I possessed, I dashed towards it. The most beautiful sight I'd ever seen came to view then as a simple wooden cabin. cabin. I yelled out, hoping someone would hear my please and help me. Exhaustion and loss of blood struck me then, and I collapsed within a dozen yards of the home. My vision began to fade, but I saw blurry outlines emerge from within the cabin. Things went dark once again. Next thing

I remember was waking up in the hospital, greeted by the desperate expressions of family and friends. It was so surreal, they wept tears of joy, thanking God and others that I had returned. Part of me wondered then whether all the things I've related here today were just nightmares or vivid hallucinations of some kind of coma.

But, as soon as I saw the extent of my injuries, I knew that wasn't possible. I had apparently been gone for nearly 24 hours when I was found. My body was covered in deep, cuts and lacerations. I had three broken ribs and a partially ruptured spleen. Many of my wounds have been stricken with infection and it took weeks for me to heal. It was not a fun time, but at least I was alive. The doctors and the police thought my injuries were a result of an

animal attack. They questioned me profusely, but I took the coward's way out. I didn't tell them much, only that I was out hiking and was suddenly attacked by something doesn't really explain the fact that I ended up at the cabin which was nearly 50 miles away from the trail I had started on but that detail didn't come up it felt wrong to lie to them

but I was paranoid that no one would believe me I didn't even know if I could believe myself ever since that day I've exhausted every possible rational explanation but they always come up short The memories are just too vivid I still don't understand exactly how it all happened But I've learned a few things

After I got out of the hospital I started doing some research on all of this phenomenon To try and see whether anyone had been through something similar The appellations had known for cases of mysterious disappearances Dozens of cases have been reported over the years With many of them remaining unsolved I don't know whether they are all all victimized by the same thing I was, but I did notice one peculiar detail.

Many of them were reported to have been wearing a red article of clothing when they were declared missing. In nature, red is the colour of danger. Many animals like bulls have an innate fear or dislike of the colour. It makes sense when you think about it. Blood is red, fire too. Oftentimes, venomous snakes and insects will be partially or entirely red in colour. Many poisonous mushrooms and berries also follow this pattern. I'm not positive, but I do believe red has something to do with this. As for what those things were, I really don't know. I've considered everything from aliens to ghosts and interdimensional creatures,

but I don't think anyone knows for sure. There's a local legend about beings that supposedly live deep in the woods hidden away from people. Indigenous folklore in the area mentions them extensively. But it sounds ridiculous. Furies.

Nothing like the cutesy Tinkerbell or Cosmo Wonder. According to legend, they are subterranean creatures that stalk and drag their prey back into their boroughs. A lot of stories claim they live near rocks and boulders.

something which reminded me of the location I arrived in after first exiting the cave. I didn't really buy into this explanation until a friend of mine who was a Native American mentioned one particular detail. Apparently these beings are allergic to steel. That may explain what happened to the one that attacked me after I nicked it with that old saber. Maybe the steel of the blade caused it to have a reaction. As for their apparent ability to cloak themselves, Well, no one who have told this account to honestly has been able to explain that.

My same friend who told me about the fairies admits that he never really believed in them. They were just stories that his grandfather used to tell him as a kid. Both of us don't really know what to think now. Some people say that all myths and superstitions are rooted in something real. Real but benign stories passed from generation to generation by word of mouth is spiced have been exaggerated, and thus eventually leading to the folklore we tell each other around campfires. Maybe this time, the myth doesn't need to be exaggerated. Maybe the reason that the world scoffs at these stories is because the truth is something

very good at hiding. I know how all of this sounds, trust me. Every sceptical thought that is passed through your mind while listening to this is probably something I myself have considered at one point or another. If you choose to write this off as no more than fiction, then that is your decision. I've saved this for the end, because I know there are those who skimmed through to see the conclusions. I want as many people to hear this as possible. It's the only thing that really matters.

Please, don't wear red in the Appalachian woods, or any other woods for that matter. You may not believe in or ever see the things I have. And honestly, I hope you never do. But just remember, when you're out on a trail in the middle of the woods, they see you. Don't provoke them. Because, even if you survive, you'll spend the rest of your life knowing a truth that no one will ever fully believe. Just like me. I swear, on the highest honor I can muster.

that everything in this story is true, related as lucidly as possible. All true, no matter how badly I wish it wasn't. There isn't much to do in the rural parts of Pennsylvania, what some call pencil-tucky. Like most parts of rural America, popular pastimes include drinking oneself into a stupor and driving unexpectedly 1983 Ford F-150s, double the speed limit down narrow. rarely maintained roads. I, however, occupy myself, when I can, by hunting. It gets a bad rap as a barbaric, cruel practice,

but I've always found solace in the forest that is impossible to find in the cramped, too close for comfort atmosphere of a small town. This particular season, I was out in early November, in a forest in the foothills of the Appalachians a few minutes away from my home northwest of Harrisburg. It was late in the fall season

and the steady flow of foliage tourists, what locals call leaf peepers, was beginning to trickle to a stop. Some trees were still burning a fiery red orange, but most were beginning to wither, foreshadowing an unusually harsh winter. The falling leaves created a curtain of decay which moved like a sandstorm in slow motion,

shrouding and isolating me from my surroundings and crunching softly under every footstep. I paced my way through the temple of red and gold, alert for the light footsteps of my query, white-tailed deer. My Winchester 3006 swayed on my back as I walked. The gun was overkill for a deer, but it doesn't pay to take chances around bigger game like elk and black bear. This forest was new territory for me. A refreshing change of pace after paved trails and subdivisions began to encircle the hunting grounds of my childhood. As I walked, I began to lie to my guard, losing focus on the wildlife, and becoming engrossed in the natural beauty of the area. I became so distracted, peering up at the falling leaves, that I tripped over a tree root snaking through the carpet.

I followed it with my eye to its termination at the base of a massive gnarled oak tree. The trunk was huge, but the tree was squat, blackened with age and split down the middle as if by an act of God. This story could have ended then and there, if not for a smell that wafted up to me as I passed the tree. It wound its way up from the tree's base. out of a swale in the ground, to the raised path I was walking on, pushing the crisp smell of the forester side. My first thought was that of a dead animal, which could mean a bearing the area.

So I circled the tree to take a look. There was no carcass. But the scene at the base of the tree resembled a homicide. Dark, matted clumps of fur, dotted the undergrowth, and a viscous black fluid led from the forest into a hollow overshadowed by a titanic root leading deep into the ground. The entire picture was punctuated by the small rank smell, a thick, coppery scent like pennies mixed with death. I am not unused of gritty, even downright disturbing scenes, but this scent made me wretch involuntarily,

and the den unsettled me deeply, as though I had stumbled upon something no one should ever see. Shaken, I moved back onto the trail, and, against my better judgment, resumed my search for a deer. The sun began to beat. down overhead with all the clarity of a winter's day, shining a demanding light under the forest and weakening my resolve. I just began to unpack my lunch when something began to bother me. I couldn't put a finger on what it was, but I felt antsy, for lack of a better word,

like I shouldn't be sitting still. Without even knowing it, I began to. to scan my surroundings for something, anything. I was returning to my lunch when it hit me. The forest was silent. No birds chirping, no insects buzzing. Even the rustle of trees in the wind had come to an ominous standstill. As the meaning of this realization began to sink in, and I got to my feet. Two things happened in rapid succession. A sizable branch snapped a few hundred meters away, and an ungodly screech penetrated the November air.

I have never heard a sound like it before or since. It was as though the earth itself split and hell opened up, just long enough to sum up the suffering. of the damned in one ear-splitting roar. Terrified, I bolted to my gun, leaned against the tree, and began to scan the undergrowth. Something big was moving through the forest floor, but I couldn't see what it was, thanks to the curtain of leaves falling around me. I hastily made tracks back in the direction I had come, forcing myself not to look back. After all, what animal would

would actively stalk a human without even being provoked. I had lost the sound of the creature and began to loosen up a little when I was hit with a bone-chilling realization. The sounds of the forest had come back behind me, but the trees in front were as silent of the grave. Whatever I had encountered, probably the same beast that had made the mess under the oak tree, had circled back in an attempt to trap me.

Truly scared at this point, I scrambled off the path into a rock gully, my back to a damp rock wall. I crawled without taking my eyes off the path into a cave, hoping to hide my hyperventilation and chattering teeth from whatever was stalking me. Only a few minutes had passed when I heard the crunch of leaves and a deep, demonic snorting. It stopped on the path above my hideaway, and I held my breath,

willing my heart to stop so as to be completely silent. The creature had begun to move on when my gun, leaning against the rock, slipped off the slick surface. It clattered to the ground, reverberating louder than an air raid siren in the crisp autumn air. My heart sank as I heard steps make their way down the rocks and closer to me.

I crawled painfully slowly towards my rifle, every muscle in my body tight enough to burst. I stopped to steady myself and heard breathing right outside the cave opening. It was choked, slavering breathing, unnatural breathing, which inspired visualizations of twisted corruptions of huge. human and beast, a patchwork demon of animal and man. I reached for my gun and came the closest to death I ever have, because I outstretched my hand. So did it. Instead of the smooth shellac of my rifle stuck, my palm met a coarse, ragged fur, caked with mud and attached to a lanky, sinewy arm. The beast screamed, and, as a very small, and as a very, a man, the beast screamed, and, as I shouldered my rifle and fired blindly out of the opening, I got a glimpse of yellowed fang

and one blood-red eye, an eye that reflected a hatred more ancient than man, a hatred that said, this is my forest. You may have altered it through your presence, corrupted it, but I was here before you, and I will be here after. Human willpower paled in the face of such uncompromised malice and I shrank back against the rocks, robotically cycling bullets out of the cave. I sat there, dead-eyed, doing this for a long time. Overnight and well into the next morning, over 18 hours of working a bolt and pulling the trigger. By the time I snapped out of my adrenaline-fueled haze, my mouth felt like a desert, and my fingers felt as though they were made out of canvas stretched over dust.

Shaking, I reached for my water bottle and gulped it down, spilling most of it down my front. Praying the beast was long gone. I inched my way out of the cave and ran as fast as my rickety legs would carry me the two-odd miles back to my truck, leaving most of my gear behind. Nothing pursued me, but the feeling of being hunted remained. I drove back to town 80 miles per hour on a dirt road, my eyes wide with fear and my hands gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Unable to bear the thoughts of my secluded home, I spent the night at a motel in town with a bottle of cheap whiskey and every light in the room turned on. The thought of the creature would not exit my mind. Was it a demon, loosed on the earth by some divine mistake?

or just an animal, a cryptid, lost the time and the memories of the trees. I didn't really want to know, but I couldn't and still can't let it go. The fear eventually subsided, but as I sit at home thinking about this, I swear, hand to God, that I can hear a howl echo through the tree, and across the mountains, telling me that I may never rest, never forget.