CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I Worked in a Fire Lookout for 10 Years. We look out for more than just fires" Creepypasta

Episode Date: March 6, 2021

Thank you for 9 years on YouTube. We've had our ups and downs. But we're still going strong, beyond my wildest expectations. New or old, thank you for being here. This is a story I wrote for this occasion. Enjoy. CREEPYPASTA STORY►by CreepsMcPastaCreepypastas 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"- 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/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-

The festival's season is Aangbroken, and that betekent mudder. And so, ging Kim to come to comason.com. com. On the look at a waterdict tent,

a comfortable lute bed, oh, so, knus, and lupart print regalarze. Miao. Now, he has Kim not for the modder.

Net so as the dancing the moddermann there, oh, wait just even, has he now only modder on?

Oh, yeah, only modder. Drove blithe? Goar for. Find what you need to need on Amazon.com. I found the opening after a long stint of working office jobs.

I wanted something more in touch with nature, and my search went further and further until I hit an ad for a job as a fire lookout. The bay was low, the hours looked horrendous, and the benefits were minimal. However, the lifestyle at granted was something I wanted, even if just for a temporary reprieve from my draught city life. I never expected to have worked this job for the better part of a decade.

However, over my time, I recruited more than enough stories to hold any party's attention for a week. That's because my job wasn't that of an ordinary fire watcher. I don't know if this is the same for others in the same job line as me, or if it's just my specific one. But let's just say we had more duties to attend to than just watching for smoke. My first day in the job there was a lot to take in. I was actually shown around by the area's ranger, rather than another lookout. Apparently the previous two quit on short notice for them to train their replacements, so the duty fell on his shoulders.

The walk to the Firewatch Tower was Arjavus at first. If it weren't for my partner leading the way, I'd have gotten lost many times over. Just when you think you're at a clearing that should lead straight to the place, we'd take a sharp turn, we'd take a sharp turn, seemingly away from the destination, and yet it wound up to be correct. We made it to the tower at around 8.20pm. The first thing I was told was that the door should be closed before 8.30pm and never opened until the shift was over at 6am, not accounting for daylight savings. We safely made it in. I was briefly left inside while he went out with a brush and paint can and came back covered in a few specks of red on him.

The door was closed and my first shift officially started. At first, things were in front. fendful. I expected to be lectured on all I needed to do, but as soon as the door closed, my partner simply went to lounging around. Left to my own devices, I took to familiarizing myself with the place I'd be held up in for the next ten hours or so. There were four rooms in total, a kitchen with some minimal rustic appliances, a bathroom with bare essentials, a lounging area with some basic wooden furnitures, and a small storage area filled with many things I didn't know how to use. All rooms were laid with clear glass and all had a door to the balcony

for ease of access to have an overlooking view. I tried starting any form of conversation, but my partner was not having it. Any questions about the job was shut down. A few hours in, and the thick of night was fully set in. My partner checked his watch, took something out of storage, handed me a pair of binoculars that looked too high-tech for what I thought I'd be doing. When I flicked them on, the view it gave me was astounding. Despite the overbearing darkness outside, I could clearly see for miles through those things. Whether there was some form of night vision or infrared,

I didn't know, but I was able to observe a vast area through those things. I took to scanning the horizon for movement, signs of smoke or light. After a while of no activity, I dialed in the distance and started skimming the surrounding tree line closer to the tower.

I froze at the most peculiar sight. It was a figure, barely distinguishable from the surrounding trees. The only way I even spotted it was because of the consistent arching movement. I focused the binoculars a bit more and saw that it looked like a person over-enthustheistically waving. I waited to see if there were more. However, it didn't stop. It didn't stop after a few uncomfortable seconds. It didn't stop after a few uncomfortable seconds.

awkward minutes. I kept checking through the night and sure enough there they were waving in my direction. When I asked my partner about it, he just grunted and told me to ignore it. Seeing that he'd be no help, I resigned to just checking on them every so often. That was my first shift, and it said the tone for the rest of my career as a fire lookout. I mentioned the dingy kitchen. Let me go into more detail. It was a simple room which matched the wooden facade of the other areas of the tower. There was a small fridge with limited selection. The food options were either a lettuce sandwich or salad,

which was just lettuce, some cherry tomatoes, or bread if you threw the planned lettuce away from the aforementioned sandwich. On the plus side, you had condiments to make the food more tolerable, if you consider brandless packets of ketchup in the door compartment flavour enhancers. For drinks, you had bottled water, nothing else. and for snacks we had lightly salted crackers. This is to say, their hospitality was lacking. At first, I politely used what was provided

and masked my dismay to be as polite as possible. However, after a few weeks, I decided my friendly facade was less necessary and decided to bring my own packed meal. The shift started as usual. The ranger left with this can of paint and came back slightly stained. I was left to my own devices and took to just spotting peculiarities. However, during this shift, things were slightly more rampant.

There were more waving figures spotted out at various distances, or enthusiastically waving in my direction. If their sole purpose in life was to just get my attention, I hope that life's purpose was accomplished. With the increased frequency, some were closer than they usually were. the glint of white on their faces showed they were smiling wide and a moving grin plastered across their face after having enough of them

I just sat down and pulled out my packed meal immediately the ranger dropped what he was doing and snatched it figuring he was ravenous for something that wasn't essentially water leaves on bread I yelled at him about to grab it back however he just ran out the balcony door open the box and threw it all off the edge.

He came back livid, yelling at me that he warned me not to bring in any outside food. The smell of my roast beef sandwich started to waft from the now-empty lunchbox in his hands. I hesitantly told him that I wasn't told that, to which he went through some range of emotions, starting from studying me to see if I were bluffing, mulling over his own memory,

and then defeat when he told me not to do it again. On top of that, he told me I was no longer allowed outside for the rest of the night and locked all the balcony doors. I figured he'd sussed that that was my favorite part of the job, soaking in the night air and observing nature at night, a cathartic pastime that I was getting paid for. However, as the night went on, I learned.

It was for a different reason. It started as small thuds, heavy, soft bumps that thudded around outside. It mostly sounded like it was hitting dirt, but occasionally I'd hear a dink of the wooden beams that held up the tower. It was hard to see much outside from the angle of the windows, but with the use of the binoculars, I could see movement just below the tower.

I didn't manage to see what was hamming around outside that night, but the fact I could hear it was quite concerning, as we were so high up that you'd barely be able to hear an elephant thundering outside. Whatever was outside was hitting the ground with furrowing. When the shift ended, and we eventually peaked outside, I saw what remained in my food that hit the ground. Crumbs and wrappers were scattered, some had fallen in the many large divots that were now punched on the ground. I had the extra job of loosing the dirt and filling in the small craters. Without giving too much info on location specifics, I can say that the area

we're in barely gets any visitors. This is fortunate to the safety of the point. public. However, because of this, when someone is spotted here, it's always hard to know what to do. Whilst making my way towards the tower, I saw a group of young people. There were four of them, and they looked like they were ready to spend the night in the sticks. At this point, I wasn't trained in dealing with others, but I also felt a moral responsibility to try to talk them out of it. I called over to them and tried my best to warn them, without divulging any specifics. They seemed to heed me at first, however, a brazen one asked me if I was a ranger. As soon as I admitted I wasn't, I could see all my credibility was gone,

and they left with a hollow agreement that they'd stay safe. I made it to my shift in time and saw the ranger returning with his tin of paint, red specks dotting his right arm. We launched around, doing our usual affairs, but I couldn't get the hikers out of my mind. I toiled with the idea of bringing it up. but knew that most things I asked were often shot down. Eventually, I took a deep breath and asked what we should do if we saw hikers going in at night. With this, he took pause from the book he was reading.

Though he didn't move, I could tell his eyes were no longer focused on the words, but rather fogged over as he went deep into thought. After a few moments, he returned with an exasperated sigh and just asked, how many? Huh? I thought. And pushed again, I just said four. With that, he went back to reading his book, and all conversation ended. That shift was particularly uneventful.

I simply took to watching the trees, seeing if I could spot any nocturnal animals, until the light started peaking itself from the horizon. Rather than parting ways, the ranger told me to follow him. We walked around the common entrance of the tree line, near where most people parked before walking in. Once there, I felt a tight grip on my shoulder and realized the ranger was grabbing me tightly,

his other hand doing the same over his eyes. I hesitantly asked him what he was doing, and he just suddenly told me to do as he said. My orders were to tell in the moment I saw those same hikers. So, there we waited, from six in the morning to around nine, waiting for any signs of movement. I was sat uncomfortably

while the Ranger never relieved my shoulder, nor his eyes. Whatever he was doing, he was heavily committed to it. Eventually, movement emerged from the tree line. The group had returned to their car. They had smirks plastered across their faces. Whatever they got up to the night before, they must have had a lot of fun. I muttered to the Ranger that they were here

and his grip tightened as he read it himself for whatever he was going to do. I watched as they packed the gear back into the truck, moving very jovialy, almost dance-like movements. I wondered if they were high. How many are there? The Ranger asked. Five, same as I said last night, I replied.

Five, not four, he probed. Yeah, they don't seem shaken up from anything. In fact, it looks like they had a lot of fun. They seemed very happy, I shot back. He sighed and asked me to read out the license plate, to which he called into his radio, adding it was another code 147. I didn't realize what happened until the Ranger recalled me back the events of that night, in which he adamantly told me. I originally told him there were four. I tell the story how he told it back, though when I searched my mind back to that night,

I always remember telling him five. Let me tell you about Dave. No, that isn't the name of the Ranger. I never did get his name. Something which bothered me at the time, but later learned was a wise choice. It didn't take long for me to become a savant at the job, though there wasn't saying much, knowing how few responsibilities I had earlier on. We met at our usual time.

The Ranger went about his business with the red paint, and I set up my itinery for that shift. I spaced out my watchtime with frequent small breaks to do side projects. read, browse my phone, dabble in dating apps. Shifts were more bearable when I knew something was waiting for me after the session of vigilantly staring out of the tree line.

I was so fixated on some movement in the far brushes, possibly my first sighting of a deer that I was startled when I heard something eerily close. It wasn't the crumbull of twigs or dirt being moved, but a simple, polite. Hello? After quickly settling down, I looked to the ground.

where a person stood barely illuminated from the tower's light I was so dumbfounded I didn't respond which prompted a second elongated hello snapping back to reality I replied with an equal pleasantry I am terribly sorry I seem to have lost my bearings I was trying to head back to my car but I keep looping around could you come down here and help me he said this in the most polite tone I've ever heard. He had a light note to his voice, spoken through a constant, brimming smile. I smiled back and engaged in conversation. After a few back and forths, I learned that he often walked the lovely trails in this area, and even offered to show me

around to some nice scenic spots. This warned me, since that's exactly what I wanted, to learn more of the area, to really get in touch with the beauty of the land. All I had to do was come out and help him find his way. I told him I'd be right down and went back inside. However, the more I walked, the slower I went. All I could think about was how I was told never to open the door. Was that to make sure I didn't leave shift, or was there another reason? Under any other circumstance, I would have taken my own initiative,

something I prided myself on when I applied for the job. But, with all that I'd seen so far, I found myself second-guessing myself. My body was mimicking my thoughts by leaning towards the stairwell and then pulling back towards the Ranger. After a few back and forths, eventually the Ranger took notice and, with a confused look, he asked what I was doing. I stared at him as he gave me a curious look

like a father looking down on their inept child. I mulled things over, but eventually cracked and told him all I'd seen. He just stared at me, not saying a word. Eventually, he sighed, got up, grab some ornaments off the table, and went to the balcony, and started hurling them off the edge, all while screaming expletives mixed in with demands for him to go away. I didn't move, just stunned by the whole act.

Eventually, the Ranger returned, sat back down, and carried on reading his magazine like nothing had happened. I knew I wouldn't get a word out of him, so I just went back to my watch. I don't think I've mentioned the dancers yet. A lesson I learned quickly was there never playing music above a certain volume. Around a time when I was starting to be left alone more often, I sought out ways the past the time.

Reading was never my thing, so I tried getting creative with what little I could carry to my shift. Because connection around the area was spotty at best, I had to get a bit more analog with my approach. In a dusty second-hand store I spotted a vintage-looking CD player for almost free. The guy wore a great look of shock that someone got so excited over the thing.

I could tell who was worried I'd somehow found a forgotten gem rated to scalp a price he'd missed, but I was just glad I found something I could use. You'll be surprised how cheap you can get CDs in a charity shop and you'll be amazed at some of the gyms you can find. Old Backstreet Boys albums, original Green Day, before long I was jamming out to my childhood powered by three D-sized batteries

It wasn't long before I was jamming out to Avril Lavigne screaming the words I'd heard a thousand times before The flickers of movement caught my eye A naive thought came to mind That some lost travellers who were looking for help That that didn't seem to be in the job description I turned down the music and peered around cautiously looking for any more signs

But it was quickly quiet again I went back to my activities just trying to make the night pass uneventfully sadly my wish would never be realized it quickly became a game of cat and mouse I'd catch sight of something

inspect and nothing would be there it was jarring too because each time I'd fiddle with a CD player which wasn't in the most stable conditions causing the CDs to skip whenever I knocked it to turn it down patience wearing thin it only took one

one time to storm out to the balcony without turning down the music to see what was happening. Across the edges of the tree line were scores of figures, a legion of strange emaciated creatures. It was hard to make up the details because they moved so damn much. They swayed and jerked in a rhythmic pace, though their approaches slow, their movements were swift, showing that they held some power behind their swings. No movement was synchronized, each moved in their own accord. The only things that matched was the beat in which they acted, and very quickly I noticed it was the same BPM of the song that was playing.

I quickly slapped the player off and ran back over to the edge. I saw as they slowly stopped and started shoveling back to the tree line. After that, I left the player off for the rest of the night. A few days later, there was a shift I couldn't cover. When I came in after, I saw my CD player had been smashed. The fact that it wasn't disposed off showed that it was a message to not playing music anymore. The festival season is aangroken, and that betekened mudder. And so, ging Kim to Amazon.com.com.

On look to a water-dict tent, a comfortable lugn abet, oh, so knus, and Lupeart print regalearze. Miao! Now, he hoofed Kim's not sure to make over the muddur. Net so as the dancing the muddermann there, he... Oh, wait just even. I learned you only mudder on? Oh yeah, Allene Modder.

DROG B. Gare for. Find what you need of on Amazon.com. com. I learned a valuable lesson when the lights went out.

It was a quiet evening. I had the ranger to manage me for the night. I'd learn to enjoy reading, despite it not being my favorite pastime, and it was turning out to be another uneventful night. In the station we have minimal lighting, a few small lamps and a pinch of a pinch of. small lamps and a pendulum bulb.

This obviously makes reading more of an ordeal than it should be, and it's a mystery how the Ranger keeps it up. Because of the dim light, it was noticeable when the darkness suddenly felt a pressing. The room felt dark. I looked at the lamps and they were all still on. I checked the pendulum, and it too was brightly lit. I looked at my manager to see if he noticed it, and he indeed had. He was looking out towards the balcony.

and his eyes were bulging. That was the most emotion I'd seen in display, and I'd watched him watch a person get dismantled in seconds. I looked out the balcony too, and at first I couldn't be together what was wrong. It was dark out, and I couldn't see anything stalking out the woods, something I usually looked out for. I couldn't even see to the tree line.

In fact, the more I looked, I realized I couldn't see anything at all. I looked up and realised everything was black. There was no moon, there were no stars. Immediately my manager went around the rooms turning off each light. I barely produced a whisper about to ask what was happening, but he quickly shushed me. There we sat in total silence, in total darkness. This lasted about an hour, though, as you can imagine, with a lack of any stimulation, it felt a lot longer.

Even though it was dim, it was almost blinding when the light started to return from outside. The air of oppression was lifted. We turned the lights back on and went on like nothing happened. It wasn't until another time that I found out the consequences

of doing things wrong. Dave? Found a wife. Every so often I saw some hikers grazed the outskirts of the zone I patrolled. A woman and a child. The brief times we spoke She'd talk about how this was how she bonded with her son

Now that she was a single mother Sadly, her husband passed away a while back And for some time she lost the deep connection with her son That she felt mothers should have It was rare But when we'd bump into each other We'd always swap pleasantries And tips on navigating the woods

Though most of mine turned into warnings Of the many areas in my zone I learned that her name was Lisa and her son was Joe. Sadly, I made the mistake of telling her my name. Now I know why the Ranger never told me his. For the sake of brevity, not repeating the same mistake, I'll supplement it with the name Jerry.

It was night, another shift on my own, when I heard a voice calling out to me. A familiar voice, it was Dave. In his meek demeanour, he told me he had something important to show me. I sighed, knowing I shouldn't engage. Go away, Dave, I'm not interested. I yelled at him, learning from my many other encounters with him. You don't understand.

The most amazing thing has happened. I'm in love. He shot back, a vibrancy to his tone now. This piqued my interest. Usually, his endeavours involved trying to get me to come out. Oh, I hurt my leg. Help me, there's a bear. I've lost my glasses and I can't see. But this was different. He wasn't enticing me outside. This was something I could do from the balcony. This was new. I made my way over, mostly confident that I'd be safe. It turns out I would. But what I saw made my heart sink. Dave was now standing there with Lisa and Joe.

Both had a large smiles, jovially stretched, though their eyes didn't seem to look happy. Dave, however, had a genuine smile on his face. He got what he wanted. Come down, I want you to meet my new family. They're excited to meet you. Dave shot out, loving his voice. I'm not interested, I replied bluntly, though I was hiding pain. Just when I thought I'd have my usual back and forth with Dave,

Lisa spoke up "'Come down, Jerry. We want you to come to our ceremony,' she weeped. My heart broke. I can't. I'm sorry, I weakly said back, though the apology held multiple layers.

I was sorry they got caught up in this. I was sorry I hadn't done more to prevent this from happening. I was sorry that I couldn't do anything. All I could do was surmise then they must have stayed here past day time, and, of the many things in this zone, they were found by day first. Now, every so often, when I'm on shifts on my own,

I hear them calling to me. There's a certain power they have now, the power of my name. Even though I know I shouldn't go out, the allure is so much stronger when they address me on such a personal level. I just hope they don't catch me in a moment of weakness, otherwise I might become a new member of his growing family.

A lesson I was never told but learnt through watching was to memorize the entire layout of the watchtower at the start of each shift. I was with a ranger and another one of our many quiet shifts together. I had gotten into the habit of drinking tea throughout the night. It was a gentle amount of caffeine and had many health benefits if all the homeopathic articles were to be believed. I was about to grab a fresh bag out the car. cupboard when I spotted something next of the kettle.

Is this yours? I asked, reaching out to it. My eyes studied it while I was reaching over. It was an old doll. It looked Victorian in design. Its face was ivory porcelain, slight cracks marred in its glaze. Rosie cheeks were dabbed on with the utmost care, and its eyes were a glassy blue. I've never had that irrational fear of dolls, and in a way, I thought it was cute. My thoughts were ripped from me with a tearing of muscle from my leg. I fell, turning to look at the ranger, staring at me, wide-eyed, derringer pistol in his hands. Throughout my time with him,

I'd seen him witness many disturbing things. We'd watched the pommas squashed the carcass of a deer to the point that it looked more 2D than 3D. I'd seen him have to choose between two identical hikers, one to kill, one to let go, never knowing what the right choice was. I'd seen him read books of many genres. He'd clean a comedy without so much as a smirk, a detective mystery without so much as raising an eyebrow. But the man standing there wore the most grim of expression. When I snapped out of my shock, I screamed in agony. He quickly came over and helped Sim the bleeding and had me seated on the couch. Upon an inspection, he was a bit of He only grazed me, though I'll never know if that was intentional or luck.

I had to use an ancient-looking crutch to move about for the rest of the night, and the night dragged on to be one of the most stressful shifts of my life. You see, when I went back to the kitchen area, the doll was nowhere to be found. The only explanation I got from the Ranger was that one touch was all it takes. He didn't elaborate further on that, but the urgency in his voice sent chills down my spine. Through the night it became a game of cat and mouse. We were sat together in tense silence. The ranger went back to reading, but after every finished page, he glanced up and look around. He was being much more cautious. I sat there trying to keep my wits

together, gently sipping the tea I eventually finished making. I was reaching down for another sip as the ranger finished the page, and as quickly as he glanced up, he threw the bug down and drew his pistol at me. I froze, not wanting to get shot again. Eyes wide, we stared at each other, until I realized that though I was looking at him, he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at where I was reaching.

Without any sudden movements, I craned my neck to where my teeth should have been. And there it was. The doll. My fingers are breath away from glancing its mousy red hair. This didn't stop for the rest of the night.

My co-worker put down his book to go to the bathroom. While in there, I heard him yell. I couldn't rush over to help due to my leg. All I could do was surmise that the doll must have been waiting in a precarious position and it almost got him.

When the sun peaked up from the horizon, I saw the ranger sigh with relief. This must have meant it was over. He empathetically helped me all the way to the hospital to get my leg properly treated. This was the closest we'd been since starting together. I think this was the point in which he knew I'd last longer than the previous applicants. You'd think our job on a firewatch lookout was to, well, look out for fires. And there was one time I saw one.

The Ranger was sat with me. By this point, we were reading the same book together. We would get a copy each, read it, then move on. When he first suggested this, I thought we would discuss it afterwards, but he didn't seem to understand that. Even though this was bizarre to me, I kept it up, figuring this was how he bonded with people. Something that's easy to pick up on when reading is any change in light.

It's how my co-worker picked up in the darkness when the stars went out, but this time it was the opposite. At first, it was a face. orange clove from far in the tree line. I tried pointing it out to the ranger, but he just glanced at it, honed, and went back to reading. I tried doing the same, trusting his judgment, and trying to keep up with his incredible reading pace.

However, the longer I read, the bigger the glow became. Eventually, I recognized it for what it was. Fire. It was bright enough that the billows of smoke were visible. It was a torrent of flames. and it was growing rapidly. I tried pointing this out to the ranger, but he just went about reading his book.

I was sat there, unable to read, or worrying about this growing inferno. Then I heard a voice. Help, fire, please help, my family are in there. I ran over to the edge. It was Dave. He no longer had that knowing smirk on his face. It was a genuine look of panic.

How do I know you're not lying? I hesitantly shot back. Lying? You can see it. And look! He pointed to the edges of the tree line. I could see all the hauntings of the woods. The dancers, the pommas, the many-finger man.

Hell, even the doll, was escaping to the distance. Whatever was going on, it had the whole supernatural ecosystem going awry. This made me panic. I shook the ranger, trying to. to get him to react, but he just furrowed his brow and tried focusing on the words in his hands. It's too late for help, just get out of there, I heard from down below. He was right. The flames were licking the edges of the tree line. It wouldn't be long before it caught up to us, or we were smoked out. I ran to the door, but as I reached for it, I heard

a familiar click. The ranger was still sat there, book in one hand, Derringer in the other. I just put my hands up, knowing he was serious, and sat back down. I waited anxiously, as I could do nothing but stare at the raging inferno that crept ever closer. The smell of smoke permeating the room. Every so often, the ranger would glance up from his book and check that I wasn't going to do something stupid. The night crawled on, anxiety churning up something fierce inside me. Eventually, a new light started to grow. a brighter hue than the blood orange of the flames.

It was the yellow iridescence of the sun. Eventually, the new light overtook the old light and everything went calm. When the shift ended, on the dot, my co-worker got up and left. I followed suit, anxious to see the results of the damage. There wasn't even as much as a speck of ash, no lingering smell of smoke,

not even the residue left after flames lick wood. It seemed he was yet another trick of the woods to get us to come out And this one Almost worked These events are never just one-offs Often they can happen many times, but always at random There's no way you predict what you'll run into in each given night However, sometimes things fall out of your control

You can do everything perfectly But another factor will change the expected outcome I was on my own one shift. I'd prepared things to do to the best of my knowledge, and I picked up my fresh book. By this point, I'd taken a liking to reading. I understood why it was my partner's preferred pastime. It pulls you away from the drab boredom of the night, but keeps you aware enough to react to things happening. It also has zero technology for any external interference. Don't even get me started and when I tried to bring in an old TV. I was a few pages in when I had to

squint harder to read the fine print of my book. It was dark again, that same oppressive darkness that enveloped us a few months back. Knowing what to do, I went around snuffing out all the light sources. For X for measure, I even turned off my phone.

I sat back down, defeated, knowing my only pastime was gone. I resign myself to sitting there in the oppressive darkness. It's strange, seeing the sky so empty, a thick blanket of black covering everything around you. There wasn't even a drop of light pollution from the nearest spot of civilization.

Everything was completely blank. This is why it was easy to spot when something popped up. A tiny fleck of light in the tree line. From the looks of it, a camper had wandered into my zone, and they seemed to be trying to create a source of light, understandably so. I could see the swing of their flashlight as they rated wood for a fire

However, they didn't get that far A glow rained from above An over-preparing pressure beam from the sky It was almost like a spotlight was lit On the camper's exact spot Focused onto him like the most brightest of floodlights I ducked away Knowing this could only mean trouble

But I kept a vantage point to observe What was going on Orbeit through a sliver I glanced up and saw that the light wasn't just an illumination source. It was an eye. It was glistening in a garganduan size. Staring at the camper, they must have been frozen still from shock, judging by the lack of movement from their flashlight.

I saw the most curious thing. The stars started dotting in and out to the edges of my vision. At first, I couldn't figure out what was going on. Before I knew it, the light sucked up the camber faster than I could blink. One moment he was there, another it was a dot zipping through the sky into the eye that also seemed to be a mouth in the center. Suddenly, more stars flickered into view as the edges rippled away, and as the eye closed and left, I realized the stars didn't disappear. They were covered.

They were covered by this strange, titanic umbrella. of a creature. It fluttered away like a jellyfish, content with this catch. After a safe period of time, I turned the lights back on. After a safe period of time, I turned the lights back on, and went back to reading. These are only some highlights of the bizarre things I've seen on this job. I haven't even told you about the mouthless deer, the kidney repairman, and many others. And, as time passes, I only discover more strange phenomenon.

Some, even my partner hasn't seen. It's trial and error trying to figure out how to survive each new thing, and it's starting to make sense why so many people come and go in this job. Now I know they don't quit, like I had originally thought. Still, though, a job's a job, and I'm pretty good at this. So, I'll keep doing it as long as I can. For now, though, I hope you enjoyed some of my strange work experiences. I hope your job is more mundane than mine.