CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I was part of a reality survival based TV show. The footage will never air" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 11, 2020

AUTHOR'S SUBREDDIT► http://www.reddit.com/r/GreyBuildings...AUTHOR'S SITE► https://www.horrorstorytime.org/CREEPYPASTA STORY►by GreyBuildings679: https://www.reddit.com/r/GreyBuilding...Creepypastas 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...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY- Shan Qiao: ►https://www.artstation.com/artwork/k2ZLK►https://www.instagram.com/qiao_shan_/SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA 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'll never forget the day my buddy from college, Mark Wayner, gave me a call. Mark had been out in Hollywood directing for the last few years and was well on his way to making a name for himself after successfully executing several reality TV shows, all of which did exceptionally well. At the time, I was down on my luck. My girlfriend of four years, Tracy had broken up with me. I was living in an apartment I could barely afford

and working at a failing ride-chair startup. When Mark called, it felt like a hand was reaching down and saving me from my terrible existence, rescuing me from my sweltering studio apartment with no AC, my jerk boss with bad breath and a greasy comb over, and even my friends who had come to resent over the years, with their Silicon Wives and Adderall-Field children. He was working on a new show, which he pitched as a survival show, similar to alone, but extreme.

He went on to tell me that they would drop five participants, off the coast of Maine on a series of abandoned islands. The islands would be strung up with video equipment designed to catch the survivalists every move. What made this show different was that there would be no emergency extractions, no check-ins, no medical examinations. Mark and his team would come out once a month to see if anyone was ready to tap, but besides that, the participants were completely on their own. The last person standing would win $1 million. dollars.

I fully expect someone to die, said Mark with glee over the phone. It'll make great television. Where did I come in? Mark said he would pay me almost double what I was making at the moment to be his assistant on set. In reality, I think he felt sorry for me, and he wanted someone who he could hang out with for possibly six months. We were to be based along with the rest of the production team in Blue Harbour,

a small coastal village with a population under 2000. I readily agreed, packing at my suitcase and cancelling my lease. I sent Tracy a final text message letting her know that I was leaving. I was left and read with no reply. What happened to this day still terrifies me. Almost six years later, I still wake up to the nightmares. Anxious, my sheets soaked through with sweat. Sometimes I will be doing a random task like grocery shopping

feeling completely normal and it will hit me becoming paralysed with guilt I can still see their faces sometimes The network terminated the official footage for the show There would have been deemed monsters if they ever aired what happened I still have the collection of SD cards for what was recorded on the participant's GoPro's but I don't have the stomach to look at it again I flew to Portland driving a cheap

rental car to Blue Harbour. The participants were already there on day five of an extensive boot camp before heading to their individual sites. There were five people in total. Peter was the oldest of the bunch, a former merchant marine.

Nearly 60 were the wealth of military experience. Nate was the second oldest and almost 48. Having worked on Wall Street for most of his life and midlife crisis changed his life. After divorcing his wife

He went along with his 24-year-old girlfriend Moved up to a commune in Vermont to reconnect with nature The youngest was named Jimmy A fresh-faced college graduate Who studied primitive living There were two women Leanne was a herbalist Who grew up on a Navajo reservation

And now lived off the grid on the border of Washington and Canada The last member of the group was Clara A mom of two boys under three and a breast cancer survivor. She had a fierce look about her, and according to a bio, was desperate to win the money. For their last night on the mainland, we took the participants to the only restaurant in Blue Harbour, a run-down joint called The Weller. It was a warm fall night, and we all drank and ate heartily.

I was sat next to Clara, who polished off two cheeseburgers and three pints of dark beer. We talked about her family and life in South Carolina. I learned that she had barely survived cancer, that she was in remission, and it was only a matter of time before she relapsed. She was determined to win, and she needed the money for her sons. I knew I shouldn't have favourites, but I was rooting for her to win. Hey Chris, said Mark, yelling towards me at the end of the table. Get the check and let's get out of here. We paid and left the restaurant.

When we got outside, Peter lit up a cigarette. Exailing deeply, he said he figured it would be his last one for a while. Leanne asked for a drag, and there was a flirtatious look between both of them. That made me blush. Mark had rented a fine house on the outskirts of town, where we, along with three other members of production, would be based for the duration of the filming. As I went to bed, I saw Leanne sneak by. heading towards Peter's room.

She gave me a wink and said good night. The next morning, there was an air of seriousness as we prepared to drop off the contestants. The Blue Islands were about 100 miles away from Blue Harbor, resting on the invisible border between the United States and Canada. There were about 60 or so land masses spread out across 20 miles. According to Mark, they were all inhospitable and inhabitable,

making them perfect for his purposes. I looked around at the participants. The now hardened faces were devoid of any of last night's merriment. Even Leanne, the most gregarious of them, was still and silent. As the morning fog began to disperse, I could see the islands in front of us. They looked like dinosaurs emerging from the water, ancient forgotten things. We dropped the contestants off one by one, each to the contestants. their own private island.

Nate was the last person, a smug smile on his face. He gave high-fives all around. See you in six months, he said, getting off the boat. For the first month, things were relatively quiet as we settled into our new lives

in Blue Harbor, Maine. Truth be told, it was the most relaxing month of my life. I started running again, going down to the beach for my daily morning jog. Mark had a caterer team from Portland deliver our meals, which were made with fresh fruits and vegetables and organic farm-raised meat. I found my pants getting looser and my skin clearing up. I could feel the

seasons begin to change as a cold chill ran through the air. The days become shorter. Our shadow stretched further. Blue Harbour constricted as well with summer tourists taking leave along with the seasonal workers. The small town felt even smaller. At the end of the first month, we all loaded back onto the boat to check the survivalists. The rules were simple. If a participant wished to leave, they could meet us at the drop-off point. If they wished to continue, they would just leave the GoPro SD cards in a plastic bag at the drop-off, but stand at least six feet away.

Mark was a stickler that there should be no interaction between them and the crew, but still wanted to verify that they were still alive. The plan was to leave more SD cards and camera batteries, and come back again in a month. Mark was excited to start viewing the footage and begin editing. He had investigators and studio executives that were equally anxious. We started by going to Nate's site, and then Peter and Jimmy. They all looked a bit thinner, but gave friendly waves to us from a distance.

Afterward, we went to Clara, who stood motionless from afar, and finally, to Leanne. I was disappointed to see Leanne perched right on the rocks of the drop-off, moving her hands frantically. I knew she would be the first to go, Mark said Snidly. As we pulled up the boat, Leanne threw herself onto the vessel, gripping a bag. I passed her an apple and a bottle of water, and Jessie, our cameraman, began to pepper her with questions. Why did you decide to tap? Jesse asked, focusing his lens on her. but Leanne refused to answer any of his inquiries,

something which infuriated Mark. She stayed in the boat while we went around the island collecting the camera equipment. It was smaller than expected. The shoreline rocky and unusable. It came up from the beach plateauing into a grid of interlocking trees. I could see the traces of Leanne's sight, now stripped bare,

all that remained with the remnants of a rock-fire pit. When we got Leanne back to Blue Harbour, she began to seem more like a normal self, the colour in her cheeks appearing, her eyes softening. She agreed to give a final interview, and Mark decided to conduct it in the backyard of the house so that it appeared like she was still at her sight. Standing in front of several trees, Jessie tried again, asking her why she decided to leave. I couldn't do it, Leanne said. he felt like all the air was gone in that place,

like I was on top of Mount Everest. It just felt bad. What was the hardest part of the experience for you? Jesse said, pushing back his red curly hair. The blood roots, Leanne said, her eyes drifting. The... What's that now? Jesse said.

The roots were bleeding. Leanne said again. Jesus, Jessie, just cut it, Mark said, disgruntled. She's out of a mind, he mumbled under his breath. Leanne went back to the room, sleeping for the next ten hours. Mark had arranged the car to pick her up and take her to the airport the next morning. I was at the breakfast table when she came downstairs, getting ready to leave. Hey, you off? I said, helping myself to another serving of cereal.

coming over to the table Leanne let out a sigh Chris I don't know how to explain it but something felt wrong out there on the island I was mid-chew and put down my spoon

sorry I can't be positive what I saw and maybe I did imagine some things but I think it was real she sounded confused just check the tapes okay

I gave a nod and gave her a hug goodbye. When she was gone, I went into the makeshift editing room that Mark and Jesse had set up and went to the computer. The SD cards were stacked in the bag and I found Leanne's placing it in the computer.

A video came up and Leanne's face came into view. With a big smile, she placed the camera in front of her showing off the scenery. The ocean stretched into the horizon. It sure is something, huh? Leanne went around, giving a tour of the land.

She showed her favourite tree, an old birch that she had taken to naming cow, due to its black and white pattern. She constructed an A-frame shelter, made of wood she had found, placing grass on the roof. She must have dismantled it before we came. It looked impressive.

I fast-forwarded through several days of filming as Leanne struggled to create fire and find sources of fresh water. She went about trying to fish along the coastline, dancing with excitement when she finally succeeded. This is the best meal of my life, she said, ripping into the chart skin. It made me smile. I stopped when Leanne's face came into the frame.

This time her demeanor had changed. Her mouth pulled downwards, a look of uncertainty in her eyes. I have to show you guys this. Leanne still in view was walking. I came upon it the other day when I was down at the beach and I don't know what to make of it. Scaling over several rocks, the camera trembled before something came into view. It was red and wet, a mass of something that looked almost like an open body cavity. The camera went out further and I was able to see what I was looking at.

It was a tree with its roots exposed. They were covered in a sickly red substance and almost looked like meat. What is this? Leanne said. I can tell you, it smells real awful. She let out a chuckle. It's all along these trees too.

Look! The camera went to several other root systems that look similar. I mean, maybe some sort of biological thing, but I've never heard of this. Neither had I. I continued watching. Leanne seemed to be obsessed over the trees, visiting them on a daily basis and getting more concerned as time went on. At one point, she took a knife, slicing it into her finger to capture some of her own blood, comparing it to what was at the tree's base.

It feels the same and looks the same, but is it the same? She said, looking at her reddened fingers. On day 20, Leanne went quiet. after that she didn't talk anymore and would only occasionally turn on a GoPro while she sat glued to the drop-off point I checked the tapes that we were covered on the island but there was nothing else that seemed odd

I showed Mark the video of the blooded roots That's disgusting You think an animal got caught in there and tore itself to bits Mark said staring at the screen Look, it's with a bunch of the trees I said freezing the frame. I've read about that, Jessie said,

popping his head in. There are trees that, if you cut them, it looks like blood, creepy as hell. Mystery solved then, said Mark, cupping my shoulder. Jesse, go over this and try to get some semblance of a storyline for Leanne. I'm thinking,

old lady goes out to the woods and realizes she can't hack it. Leanne could hack it, though. Of that, I was certain. I went over the the GoPro video we had from the other contestants and nothing seemed to miss. Peter and Nate were doing exceptionally well and Jimmy had pretty much constructed a log cabin. I checked Clara's footage. She talked about how she missed the family and had some trouble

constructing a shelter, finally finding along the shoreline where she made a camp. I paused at two days before we came for the pickup when I saw the same facial expression that I saw in Leanne. Clara looked scared I press play Something strange happened last night She said looking out into the water I think it may have been a ship

But I saw these small glitter lights Dancing on the water's surface It was beautiful Shrugging her shoulders Maybe it's the boys telling me they miss me A gift from nature As it would turn out The glittery lights

and the grotesque roots were a gift from nature. Just not in the way I could ever imagine. Kelly came over again tonight. I tried to share what I wrote, but she wasn't interested. Usually her visits are for a singular purpose only. We used the date in high school, and I think that's why I still have some appeal for her, that first love thing that never fully gets out of your system.

She likes to pull and my flabby skin, my body after years of neglect. has become almost warmly in its curves. Before she leaves the go home to her husband, she likes to tell me that this will be the last time and that she's disgusted with herself. She said the same thing a few days ago too. As she says it though,

I think of Clara, as if she ever meant something to me, as if I ever meant anything to her. I hear a car door close and the engine of a Mercedes as she drives away. I turn my head to look out the window. A curtain of bushes meets my gaze, the branches placed in such a way as if it's smiling back at me. We were officially a month two of production, exactly 32 days in, when Mark got to work and what he liked to call the bones of the show. With four participants remaining and four weeks until the next check-in,

he, along with two editors, scroll through hours and hours of what we salvaged from the go-pros and began crafting a storyline. I hung back as they cherry-picked minutes of video, narrowing in on each person, packaging them into a digestible product. Mark considered Jimmy to be the hero and was certain he would be the last man standing, the ultimate winner. Jimmy was amicable with a movie star smile and filmed well. He had a good attitude, at least from what he showed on the camera. It's been really chilly here lately, Jimmy said, looking into the GoPro, His shirt was off, showing several intricate tattoos, so I decided to make a sauna. Zooming in, he displayed his invention, a small teepee with charcoal logs in the centre.

Just like a spa, stripping off his pants, now fully naked. Make sure to edit this out, fellas, he said, heading inside the structure. God damn, I love this kid, Mark said, smiling. Nate, on the other hand, was perfect to hate. Even though 95% of his video was the same as the other contestants, fishing, gathering firewood, sleeping, there were moments when he had almost a caustic attitude towards nature. I hated here, he said, his voice rambling out from the computer.

But I'm going to make this place my whore. Get ready, baby, because Nate Do It is in the house. We went on to watch him almost burned down his shelter, trying to catch a rat. We got a villain, boys, Mark said, clapping his hands together. Peter was considered to be the most skilled among the participants. He would speak into the camera as a teacher would, instructing on how to make snares or a fire.

His crowning accomplishment was creating an elaborate system to collect rainwater. Re-watching the footage, I began to notice a slight nervousness about Peter. It was subtle. He would be doing so. something and then look in a different direction, pausing for several moments, looking at something hidden from view. Besides Clara mentioning the light, which Mark choked up to a passing boat, her footage was relatively boring. Mark viewed her story as simply being a mom and figured

you'd be the next to leave. Day 60 came just on the heels of Halloween, and we decided to load the boat again, making our way out to the island. Mark was excited to get his hands and more video, but his smile quickly disappeared as we came upon Clara's sight. Her emaciated frames stood in the distance. Prying away her hand from her body, she gave a small

wave. She wasn't taping. I examined her as best as I could, trying to determine if she was alright. Her stone face gave nothing away. Our boat came upon Peter and Nate's drop-offs, and just like Clara's, we grabbed the tapes, leaving more batteries and SD cards for the GoPro's. Jimmy was our last stop,

and as we docked, I could hear Mark swearing. Looking up, Jimmy was there, his backpack ready. God damn it, Mark said to me. Hi Jimmy, Jesse said, pulling out the camera as he did with Leanne. Hey guys, Jimmy said, unsteadily, coming into the boat. You know, I had my money on you to win. kid, Mark said, stroking his stubble chin. I thought you had it in you.

So, why did you decide to tap? Jimmy pressed on with his questions. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Jimmy pushed his knees together. I don't know, I just got lonely out there. We disembarked and went to collect the remaining equipment in video. Jimmy's log cabin stood proudly in front of us. I could barely manage an IKEA furniture and

I found myself in awe. As we approached, my eyes went to the group. Inhaling sharply, I realized that hundreds of dirt-shaped mounts, the size of eggs, were poking out as if the earth were covered in boils. Jesse, I called out, and he came running towards me. What the hell is that? I pointed to the ground. I bet it's some moles, or maybe voles.

Those little assholes destroyed my garden last year, he said, unconcerned. We got back to Blue Harbour and unloaded the equipment Mark was in a foul mood forcing Jesse to drive to Portland to get drunk I hung back with Jimmy who went quietly to his room eager for his flight back to L.A. tomorrow

I was desperate to look at the video we collected but went to checking on him knocking on his door I poked my head in you want to go outside and have a beer there's a fire pit I can turn on Jimmy was sitting on his bed staring ahead into space His beard had grown

Coming down almost to his collarbone It's a bit cold out He said flatly Living room then He agreed to join me And we sprawled out on two of the large oversized couches We drank our way through a six-pack

Jimmy eventually becoming more Torgetive as the night progressed I thought that cabin made was incredible, I said, in between sips. I was trying to figure out what those round things were on the ground, though. Jesse thought it was voles, and I was thinking to myself, What the hell of voles? I let's out a giggle.

Vols. There was a long pause, and Jimmy looked down the bottle of his beer, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. I woke up one morning, and it was like that, just showed up out of nowhere. It... It scared the hell out of me. I felt tipsy by that point and led out a laugh.

You had ground pimples and Leanne had blood roots. That wasn't all. Jimmy said, his tone serious. And I went silent. At night, I started to hear things. He bit his lip. It sounded like bits of conversation. Just fragments, but different voices.

It's like what you're like. you would hear if you're walking through a busy street. Did you hear what they were saying? Jimmy shook his head. It was never clear. It sounded like someone speaking far away, but also just outside my cabin. I thought I was going insane.

But then, when those ball things showed up, I knew it was time to get out of there. He put down the beer. I know Mark's a dick, but please, don't make me look crazy on TV, if you can. After Jimmy left the next morning, I went to the computer to look at the video we had just collected from the participants. I popped in Jimmy's SD card, forwarding through several days till I found what I was looking for. Jimmy was in his cabin. It was evening by the look of it.

The camera was pointed towards him as he lay down in his sleeping bag. Did you hear that? he said, his voice trembling. I turned up the volume as high as it would go. I could hear the fire crackling, the sound of waves in the distance, but not the voices he had described to me the night before. Things got progressively worse as I scrolled forward. He started screaming at the voices he thought he heard, barking out into the night. Then, a few days later, he resorted to begging, pleading for them to stop.

The night before we came, he was huddled in a fetal position, his eyes covered and whimpering. I listened as closely as I could, but the audio revealed nothing. I went on to Nate's GoPro card, stopping when I saw he was standing in front of his camera, a darken expression on his face. Look at this. Twisting the camera angle, focusing on the background, I almost fell off my seat. There was someone there with him. A slim dark figure, its eyes bore into me as I held my breath.

I kid you not, I almost crap myself this morning when I saw this, Nate said, picking up the camera. He began walking towards the figure. As he got closer, I began to see what I originally thought was a body was two twisted tree trunks. The face was composed of branches that looked so realistic, resembling human features, but close up were just pieces of wood and bark.

It's nothing, said Nate, choking to the camera. Just mind tricks. There's a lot of that out here. I was glad when I reviewed Peter's video that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though he continued to be a little jumpy. Last was Clara's SD card, and I felt a wave of panic,

saying a small prayer that nothing would be abnormal. My hopes were dashed as the video went to the water, and I knew immediately what I was looking at. The same glittering lights she had this, described last time. Orb-shaped balls skated along the surface a distance from shore. I want to say thank you to my boys

for sending this to me. Thank you, Nature, for this beauty, said Clara calmly. But I don't need it anymore. You can go. Please go. The camera again went to the lights. Please go, she repeated.

And I could hear her crying as the frame shook in her hand. please go, please go, please go. There was a loud sob that made my heart feel like it was cracking. The next night, Clara's face filled the screen, then turning, went back to the lights on the water. They were larger than before. She smacked her lips.

I know that this, whatever it is, is, um, well, it's not good. It's not for my sons, that's for damn sure. It's not a good gift. It's a gift of darkness. She scowled, turning off the GoPro. It was a few days later when Clara decided to turn on a camera again. The last time she filmed before the pickup. It was during the day, her face tinged with a rose gold light,

the golden hour. She was standing outside her shelter, the cave she had found. Her arms crossed against a now shrunken body. I've decided, I need to find another shelter, she said to the camera. The frame shifted, focusing on the inside of the cave wall, and squinting, I get to the outline of two round, indent side by side, the rock sloping downwards towards what looked like a curve,

then circling inwards again to create a gaping opening. Water droplets hung on the top of the crevice, delicate little triangles, like jagged teeth. My eyes adjusted. as my brain began to realize what it was. Identifying what Clara was seeing, it looked like a giant skull in the rock. I feel...

I think I might be going insane. This... She said, focusing again on the rock monstrosity in the cave. Wasn't here before. Or maybe I just didn't see it before. I don't know. She sat down on the rocks outside a cave. the stones glistened.

From the viewpoints of the camera, it looked like the mouth of the giant rock-shaped skull in the background was getting ready to swallow her hole. It was so monstrous and terrible, I felt myself look away, as if it might actually happen. I just want to go home.

Placing a head and her hands, Clara started crying. The video ended. Mark and Jesse came home in the late afternoon, still buzzed and reeking of whisky and body odour. I told them what Jimmy had told me last night about the voices and brought them over to the computer.

Screenshots of the figure Nated Seen and the skull in Clarice Cave was side by side on the screen. Oh, it took me a second but now I see it, said Jesse, squinting. I don't see nothing, Mark burped. There was a knock on the door. And gone, he said. walking over, opening the door a few inches. Trick a treat, said three small voices in unison.

Halloween, right, Chris, do you have a few bucks on you? I came over, pulling out my wallet, dropping a single in each of the kids' pails. Trust me, I know it's not candy, but you will learn to appreciate this a lot more, Mark said, grinning. What are these costumes supposed to be? I'm a mummy, said a woman. said a voice, muffled by toilet paper. And she's a princess, he pointed to the youngest of the three.

A small girl with a crown on her head. The third kid was dressed in black, with what looked like balloons taped on it. And I'm a weller. Very cool, said Mark, closing the door and waving the kids off. When they were gone, he turned towards me. All right, let's turn off the porch light and pretend like nobody's home. When we got back to the editing room Jesse was sitting at the computer

continuing to study the images Oh, I see it from back here Mark said as he entered What's a thing called When people see human characteristics in random objects Jesse asked Varia dolia Mark took a seat

diverting his attention to something on his phone Don't you think it's weird that both Clara and Nate are seeing them I asked Mark shrugged I mean, what else have they got to do out there? I'm surprised they're not seeing little green fairies bopping around at this point. Besides, Peter is fine, right? I tried to discuss the matter further, but Mark wasn't having it.

He figured that this would all be over soon, and was already starting to think about his next show. We spent the next ten days continuing to edit the videos. It was getting cold now. It felt like it might snow any day. I wondered how the participants were doing and if Clara had been able to find or make a new shelter yet. We were about halfway through October

when Jesse screamed at us one morning to come downstairs. Springing out of bed, I barreled down to see the television turned on. A busty blind reporter sat behind a desk. There, in the right corner, there was a picture of Peter. His face shrunken and ragged. The reporter cleared her throat. The Coast Guard rescued a man today near the Bay of Foray.

The man was found on what reports say looked like a homain raft of three trunks and a rope. So far, there is no information on where this man came from or of his identity. He has been transferred to Portland General Hospital and remains in critical condition. I looked at Jesse, thinking what I know now to be true with absolute certainty.

Peter left a shelter, fire and water, and ventured into the cold Atlantic, a hundred miles from shore, an almost certain death. Whatever he fled on the island was worse than that. After Kelly left yesterday, I went for a walk outside

along the periphery of the property. From the backyard, the lawn runs up against woodlands, a cluster of towering dark trees that sway back and forth in harmony. That's where I find myself most days. Just on the edge, an emptiness growing in the pit in my stomach.

My feet stay safely planted on that pretend border of perky green grass. A lone branch swings out from one of the trees, rocking in the breeze, like a claw beckoning me forward. When Mark found out that Peter was in the hospital, he was surprisingly ecstatic, demanding that we drive out to Portland immediately. I can say without hesitation that it was not out of concern of Peter's well-beckyton, being. He was

eager to document what happened. We arrived at the hospital, Jesse, with a camera on his shoulder, to an annoyed nurse behind reception. We're here to see the man they found off the coast. His name is Peter. Mark said, snapping his fingers. Chris, what's his last name?

Who the hell are you? said a voice. A severe looking woman stepped forward. I don't see how that is any of your concern, Mark said, rolling his eyes. The man who they found of the coast, Peter, he's my father. So yeah, I would say it's off my concern. Well, your father is under contract with us. We have the right to interview and film him.

I figured you guys would show up. Peter's daughter said. Her mouth pulled downwards and disgust. You're real assholes. He could have died and you're concerned about your damn interview. She took a step closer, her nose touching me. Marks. Get the hell out of here, and if you come near my father again, I'll make sure to bury you in litigation. Come on, Mark, I said, taking his arm and steering him away. We went to the car,

driving silently back to Blue Harbour. I think we should check on Nate and Clara, maybe even pull them after what happened to Peter, I said, and waited for Mark to respond. He sat in the front seat, staring at the road. Jesse turned, waiting to hear what he would say. No, Mark said, finally. We'll go back in two weeks, as we're scheduled. We'll get Peter's video then too. We can use the news footage of them finding the missing man.

It would look great for clips and trailers, Jesse offered, and Mark gave a nod. Peter refused to talk to us again. Maybe it was his daughter's influence. But whatever the reason, we never got clarification on what made him leave the island. Even afterward, with everything that happened, the press hounding him, he said nothing. His GoPro was never recovered, but we found one last SD card at Peter's site. It was placed in a Ziplock bag, along with Peter's old dog tag, near a rock by the drop-off point. The video recorded showed a man different from the one I'd gotten to know.

His calm demeanor erased. It showed him standing in front of the raft he made, his back to the ocean. I told my daughter I wouldn't come back unless I was a millionaire, unless I won. He looked downward to the ground, his chin quivering, as his mouth fell open, gasping for air. Tears slid down his cheeks. I don't know what's happening here, but I don't think I'll make it another night. He lifted his face, his eyes then going to something in the distance. The change was physical, as Peter's body stilled, his eyes bulging in horror.

Then he began to shake uncontrollably, a wet spot blossoming at the crotch of his pants. In the audio, I could hear something. It sounded like chewing, grinding of teeth. Moving from where he was standing, Peter's eyes never left what he was looking at. He went to the camera on the ground, turning it off. Our last two weeks of Blue Harbour were filled with angst and apprehension. After the incident at the hospital, Mark seemed more deflated than usual. I think he could sense that the project was doomed to fail

and wanted the distance from its inevitable demise. I could hear him at night, brainstorming new show ideas, which he would pitch to Jesse and me in the morning over breakfast. Mark was convinced that our third check-in with the participants would be our final one. Clara or Nate would tap. One of them had to, and the other would be the winner. When I asked, what if they both were ready to quit? Mark dismissed me, saying in that case, it would be whoever's camp we went to last.

On day 90, we got on the boat making away to the Blue Islands. In the distance, as we approached, I could see that we were nearing Clara's side. and held my breath, waiting to see if she was on the shore. Mark began to survey with his binoculars, his eyes going from the drop-off point. She's not there, he said, panicked. I felt a wave of nausea come over me as my heart began to palpitate. As we eased closer to the shoreline, it became more apparent that something was wrong. Squinting my eyes, I could see speckles of red on the rock.

Jesse realized what it was before me. Bloody footprints, he said under his breath. I jumped out of the boat, oblivious to the searing cold water that swelled around me and fought my way to the shore. I ran up the bank, screaming for Clara as I frantically made my way around the island looking for her. After two hours of searching, it became obvious that she wasn't there. She was gone. Maybe she made a boat like Peter, Jessie said, unconvinced.

Her bag is still here, though, I said, rifling through her things. I lifted a picture of her, cradling her sons. She wouldn't leave without this stuff. What a goddamn disaster, Mark said, bitterly. Let's go, Nate. We'll call the police when we get back to the mainland. We packed up a GoPro in belongings, along with the rest of the video and went back to the boat. There was a deep-seated dread among us as we sliced through the waters, and I felt myself shudder as we came upon Nate's island. Just like Clara's, Nate was not at the drop-off point.

Come on, Mark said in a disgruntled bark. What the hell is going on here? Pulling the boat up, we disembarked again, making our way to the island. I was prepared for Nate to be missing as well, but we came to. came upon him soon enough. Propped up against the tree was his lifeless body. A hunting knife laid to his side. His arms were slashed open with dried blood in the ground.

Flies buzzed around the corpse. An awful smell permeated the air. I stood still and hung back with Jesse as Mark inched closer. I watched, horrified, as Nate's chin suddenly jotted out, twitching. Is he alive? I said in disbelief. There's no way, Jessie said, unable to look away. Nate's mouth at that moment fell open. A gaping hole of wriggling bugs and maggots.

One fell out landing on Mark's spotless Nike shoe. Mark shrieked backing up to us. I could hear him gulp. Let's get out of here. I saw the GoPro beside Nate's still body and grabbed it. before we left, going back to the boat. When we docked in Blue Harbour, Mark still shaken. He said that we needed to go to the police, which we all solemnly agreed upon.

I'm going to go back to the house and check the footage, I said, holding the two Gopros close to my chest. I'll call you if I find anything. Back at the rental house, I ran to the editing room and with trembling hands removed the SD card from one of the Gopros, putting it in the computer. Nate popped up on my screen He was in his shelter Morning light streaming down on his face I I woke up this morning

And went to start my fire Like I normally do When I saw something Well let me just show you He stood up pointing the camera away from him Outside his shelter There looked to be a crowd of people About 20 feet

From his life last video, I was now able to discern that it was trees I was looking at, with some strange and accurate resemblance to actual humans. Look at these things, Nate said, approaching the trees, bordering his camp, and, as he did, my heart began to race. When I get closer, it's just trees, just some strange branches, nothing out of the ordinary. But, as I go away, he walked. in the opposite direction now, the features

sharpening again, the figure's becoming more apparent and menacing. If it was one of these things, like it was before, maybe I could knock it off to coincidence. He shrugged his shoulders. But look at these things. Look! He screamed,

jolting me upright. He held the camera in front of his face again, his back to the strange masses. It looked like they were moving, and encroaching toward him, and I felt myself shiver. Today, I'm going to destroy these things, Nate said, with a cheesy smile. Nate set the camera up, pointing towards the woods, as he got out his axe and began hacking

away at the trees, demolishing the forest around him. He tore at the limbs, throwing branches, clearing the strange and horrid, twisted things in a matter of hours. Exhausted, he came back, settling his arm. his axe on the ground. Don't mess with me, he called out into the void, and the Lord of the Flies on this island. He picked up the camera and turned it off.

The next morning, Nate filmed himself again, but this time there was no joy in his face. He didn't say anything, just moved the camera again to the outside. As he did, I felt my legs quake. There they were, the same tree figures, except this time there were even more, and they were closer. A gust of wind came through the camp and it appeared as if they were moving, breathing, glaring down at the camera.

Nate went on a rampage, fuelled by desperation, as he struck down and maimed the trees for a second time. At the end of the day, he was slick with sweat, delirious. he collapsed in his shelter. The camera remained on as he slipped, the world darkening around him. When Nate awoke, he sat up and began howling. The camera must have gotten knocked over as the view went sideways. As it did, I could see that the trees were just outside the shelter. The face is sharper with what seemed like malicious expressions.

I could hear Nate continuing to walk. whale. The last filming of Nate was of him, sitting at the base of the tree where we had found him. He was hitting his palm against his forehead, whispering to himself under his breath. It's everywhere here. Look at this thing in the back of me. My eyes went to examine the tree, and I could see what looked like two sinister eyes looking down at him. I shouldn't have cut those trees, Nate said, his voice trailing. I'm the piggy. That was all of night, as my screen went black.

I ejected the card and took Clara's SD, placing it into the computer. A similar feeling of sickness washed over me. I watched her come into view. Hi, she said into the camera, and tilting her head gave a small smile. She's okay, I thought, relieved. I thought surviving Canada. answer was tough, she laughed. But this is harder, way harder.

I've been dealing with something these past few days. Look at my boots, she said, holding them up to the camera. The souls were completely corroded. I knew there was something off here, but then this started a few days ago. Whenever I touched this place with my body, it starts to eat away at me. She showed the bottom of her feet, which were a bloody, pulpy, mess. I've wrapped them in clothing, bark, everything and anything I can think of. But no matter what I do, it always gets through. She put her palm up, examining it. And just in case you think

I'm crazy. She put her hand on the ground, holding it there for several minutes. Her face flinched with pain. She held it up again. This time, the skin had broken in several places as if it had been gnawed on. This is going to make things very difficult for the next month. Very difficult. It was two days later when Clara filmed again. She was sitting on her backpack,

her feet up from the ground, further decimated. I could see that her pinky toe was completely gone on one foot. Another looked like it was dangling by a loose thread of skin. I haven't slept in days now. Can't put your head down

when it might get eaten. This made a chuckle, even though she was crying. I feel less and less like myself as the days go on here. I can feel myself changing. But I'm not afraid. I want my kids to know that I wasn't afraid. Sometimes you just gotta face it. The camera came on again and it was angled in a way that I could see the ground.

Clara came into view, limping towards the GoPro. She was naked. Her milky skin etched with thick blue veins. To my horror, she lay down on the earth, closing her eyes as she did. I watched in horror, fixated on the screen as a figure slowly disappeared, sinking into the dirt, till eventually she was swallowed up completely. Jessie and Mark would later tell me that they came home to me screaming, huddled in a corner, and, as they put it, out of my mind.

They had to lock me in my room for a week. I don't know if they ever saw the footage. We never talked about it. Even now, on the rare occasion, Mark picks up his phone. He refuses to discuss it, or anything that happened. I would come to learn that the police went out to the islands, conducting their investigation. They concluded that Nate committed suicide. and Claire likely died at sea.

The show was cancelled and promptly moved from its scheduled Thursday night spot, slated for that spring. As the show wasn't to be aired, and there was no official winner, the TV network kept the prize money. Mark went back to Hollywood, and I fell into a deep depression, living off unemployment checks and squatting in my parents' house in upstate New York, where I am still. When I was finally able to feel a pretense of my parents' time,

normalcy, I began to scour the internet, trying to find any information regarding the Blue Islands. After joining several online groups for wilderness exploration, I came across Dan, an older man who lived outside of Portland. He agreed to meet me. I drove up from New York, meeting Dan at a bar. He was tall and lengthy, with grain-long hair, whose great passion in life was kayaking. He spent his summers in Maine And his windows in Mexico Where he would conduct

Coyek tours for tourists We talked at length Before I felt brave enough to broach the Blue Islands My wife and I Well, ex-wife now We camped out there for a little bit in the 70s Back then though It was called the Weller Islands

Weller? I said Scrunching up my face I racked my brain I've heard that name before The names have been butchered from what it was But it's old Maine folklore Dan said with a smile There was a time when they say

The Weller inhabited all along the east coast of Maine So It was a people I said confused I don't think you could distill it to that I always considered it as an energy A presence I guess Dan laughed.

Whatever it is, though, it's certainly at those islands. I told Dan about what had happened with the participants who had stayed there, what I had seen on the video. He was shocked. Jesus, he finally said. Did you ever come across anything like that? No, God no. It was a strange place, but nothing like what you're describing.

He took a long pull of his beer. My ex, she's a bit more in tune with all that type of stuff, you know, like the Reiki and the crystals and stuff. But when we were there, she thought it was mimicking us. Mimicking? Yeah, like, for example, the first night we were there, we got intimate. The next morning, we found this translucent goo all over the beach. I was too dense to put any of this together,

but she said she saw things. Wouldn't say what? We were supposed to be there for a week, but lasted three days before we left. 90 days, though. Dan let out a low whistle. Do you mind me asking, why did they stay if this was going on?

I shrugged my shoulders. I'm not sure. I think it hit certain people harder. Some of them didn't want to believe it was real till it was too late. Clara, the one I told you about, she was a cancer survivor and figured she didn't have much time till it came back.

She needed the money. Well, damn, maybe that's it then. Dan said, I mean, maybe the island, or the weller, whatever it is, picked up on that. The cancer. What?

Maybe it started mimicking a disease. It sounds like it was strong and nefarious, just like damn cancer got with them poor people all up Dan left soon after that with promises to keep in touch I wish that what he told me had gave me some solace

but instead a longing stirred in me wanting more answers I think about what Dan said sometimes especially on nights like these when the air feels thinner the moon bright and the world feels strange

as if there are things that we can't see or even comprehend. I look up at the trees outside and see Clara's resemblance, clear as if she was in front of me, her upturned nose in the branches, and her eyes indents in the bark. If I listen closely enough, I can hear her, calling me to come to her,

to join her, in the wild, in the dark.