Creepy - Creepaway Camp 2022 - Day 8: The Hunter and The Hunted & The Legend of ManyHands

Episode Date: July 28, 2022

The Hunter and the Hunted***Written by: Kyle Harrison and narrated by Atticus Jackson***The Legend of ManyHands***Written by: Deirdre Coles***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Megan McDuffee Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy fosters and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications

is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic defictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Owen. John. Been a while.

Indeed. I don't think the moat was really necessary, do you? Oh, it's just a safety precaution. For who? For me. From what? Me? Maybe.

Then why'd you dig in a circle around us? That's for me to know. Okay, well, do you have a story? I was gonna, but then I started. I started digging the mode and I'm all tired now. Okay, then... What's that sound? The moat will defend us!

Hey guys. Atticus Jackson? What are you doing here? It's in my contract. He has a contract, too? No. Then what do you call this? Ah, crap.

He found the weakness in my moat's defenses. Step right over it. Looks like a cocktail napkin. And what does it say? Kind of hard to read. You have terrible handwriting. And almost all the words are misspelled. But it looks like it says,

Me Tell Story, Good, Campfire, then a shopping list and a map coordinates to a place you've labeled my crying spot. Do you want a story or not? Yeah. Good. I wanted to tell you about... The hunter and the hunted.

My head was spinning. No, no. It was the entire world. Everything is a blur. Dizzying lights and jarring sounds filled me as I tried to stand. Then I was yanked back down to the ground. My fog clearing as I got a good look at the person beside me. What?

Noah, Hunt, my stalker, the boy that had been my living nightmare since freshman year. What the fuck are you doing here? You motherfucker! I shouted as I tried to get up again. Instead, I fell to the ground, yanked down hard by his weight. And as my vision cleared up more, I saw the reason why. We were handcuffed together. The metal was bound so tightly against my wrist that I saw scratches and drops of blood against it

as I tried to wake Noah up. Flashes of memory sprang into my mind. I remembered going to a party. Jimma Angelson. Her parents had a rental property near the lake. I had gone to try and score some marijuana from a friend and snuck out so that my parents wouldn't find me. But it was hard to say for sure how long ago that was.

I tried again to wake Noah, but he wasn't breathing. And I began to fear the worst. Was he dead? In the dim light of the canopy, I could see what looked like deep gashes across his chest and face. Something had a... attacked him. Instantly I was in defense mode as I scooted closer to his cold body and looked about the woods closely and cautiously. The forest was curiously silent and it unsettled me.

I took a moment to gather myself and tried again to stand. No, I wait about 220 so the job wasn't easy. Help! Help! Please, someone! I shouted at the top of my lungs. It was eerily quiet, as if the entire forest was hiding from whatever had attacked Noah. Dozens of questions filled my head as I dragged his corpse to a tree. Had he lured me here? Was I a willing participant? And perhaps most important of all,

what had hunted us and tracked us and killed? Noah. I needed to move and get to shelter if I wanted to gain any answers. So I used what little strength I had and pulled myself up to a hunched over position, my right side tugging downward to carry Noah. Jimas Kambon can't be far, I told myself. I tried to spot the sun amid the tree tops to get a sense of direction, wishing I had my phone with me. The only thing of any use was Noah's backpack, and it was on the other side of the meadow. It might have had a satellite phone in it, I thought as I began to crawl toward it. It wasn't long before I heard the most unsettling noise coming from the woods, and I froze in place. I've never been fond of the forest.

When I was little, we lived close to a small patch of trees, and my friends loved to go and play there, but not me. That was probably the straightest area you could find, and I was worried that the woods would swallow me whole if I stepped foot in them. At night, as I fell asleep as a child, the only thing I ever found remotely comforting about the forest was the ambient noises of crickets or the rustling of leaves,

a calmness that descends over the trees as everything goes to sleep, and it felt like nothing bad could ever happen. to me thanks to this sense of ease that blanketed me. There wasn't any type of calmness found here. Instead, the forest was eerily quiet to the point that it made me wonder if there was even a living thing nearby. And then, the noise of the beast.

I can't describe it properly. I've never been good at identifying sounds. identifying sounds, but it certainly didn't sound like any animal I was familiar with. Maybe it was a bear, or a large carnivore coming back to check on its fresh kill? If so, I suddenly had even more reason to cross the meadow and try to get out of here. Again, I tugged at Noah's corpse and crawled across the grassy clearing, stopping every few feet to catch my breath. This wasn't exactly the perfect time for me. me to realize I wasn't in good shape, and Noah had to be at least 220 pounds, if not more.

I was starting to realize that if this became a fight or flight scenario, running would not be a good option. Pushing myself up again, I dragged us to as close to the backpack as possible and yanked it toward me. I think I said a prayer, and then I unzipped the pack to see what he had brought along. for the trip. Instead of seeing anything useful, it made my heart drop to my stomach. There were several different hunting knives, at least six of them, all looking like they

were meant to skin game animals, along with rope, twist ties and other things clearly designed to keep me from running away, duct tape from my mouth, drugs to keep me sedated, but nothing that could help me in my current predicament. I kept digging, trying not to make a sound as the howling in the woods got louder. Was it a pack of wolves? Was I about to be their next meal now that Noah was beginning to decay? I froze in shock as I saw strange silver coins near the bottom of his bag along with a journal that was open to a page filled with some kind of symbols that I didn't recognize.

Was this like a code? And if so, for what? I reached into the bag to pull out the journal. And just as I did, I heard a harsh rush of air overhead, and I dropped to the ground, freezing in place. I felt my chest beat rapidly against the ground as I heard the flapping of large wings. My eyes darted about the tree line.

Whatever was hunting us was aerial. I realized as I kept as still as possible. I had no idea if the creature would be fooled by my attempted playing possum, but it was my only chance at survival. Above me, I heard branches crack, and then another loud burst of wind as the beast crashed down onto the floor of the forest and let out a shriek. I was too terrified to look, but just from the reverberation on the ground, I could tell that this thing was large. I focused on the pool of blood that was near Noah's abdomen, where he had been intentionally attacked, and saw little ripples against the still liquid as the creature got closer.

Long bony legs arched over his prone body, and I could feel a warm body against my own skin. It took every ounce of courage I had to not shake in fear As it dropped its head toward Noah And he began to attack at his insides And I closed my eyes and started to count backward from 100 And the hope said it would help But instead all I could hear was the crunching of flesh in this beast's jaw Saliva was dripping against my own skin

And then, a few excruciating moments later, it was moving towards the tree line, and I convinced myself to open my eyes. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see. It was gloomy and overcast, and maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. But the creature had to be at least nine or ten feet tall. Perhaps most striking of it all was that it looked like it was wearing clothes. A dark, bloody, red, tattered cloak that reached down to its bony legs and obscured most of its body from view. And it wore a mask. Not your typical mask, but one made of the whitest bone.

Like it had specifically crafted it from its victims. and custom made to strike fear in new prey. I couldn't see its eyes. But the fact that this thing, which acted like an animal and yet stood like a man, was now looking toward me with a sense of awareness. It made me want to shit my pants. I told myself those are going to be my final moments on this planet. And I was almost okay with that.

Then the creature shrieked again and disappeared into the woods. Apparently, too stuffed with Noah's intestines to bother with me. I pulled hard on the handcuff that yoked me to his corpse, realizing that the beast likely felt confident I wasn't going anywhere anyway. For the next hour, I tried to crawl towards the edge of the meadow, stopping to catch my breath and trying not to have a panic attack. as darkness fell over the forest. I told myself I couldn't give up.

My family needed me to get home. My friends didn't have a clue where I was, and I needed to fight to live. But that was beginning to feel like it couldn't happen. Not as long as I was stuck alongside Noah's body. It began to rain about ten minutes later, and it took it as a sign to rest. Surely the beast wouldn't return during the mild storm.

I closed my eyes and retraced my steps. Jimma's party had not been the smash I'd been hoping for, but some parts of it had been pretty good. I remembered getting a chance to smoke a little weed, kiss a few cute senior boys, and even make a cool video with my best friends to go on TikTok. For some reason, those random videos were spiraling through my... head as I lay there on the grass, and one in particular popped up in my head about a couple

that shifted their weight and carried each other. I looked over at Noah's corpse, realizing that maybe I could find a way to lift his body and carry it rather than drag it, and I decided to give it a try. I can't tell you how uncomfortable it was for me to move and straddle his dead body. Noah Hunt has been nothing but a creep to me all year long, constantly trying to take unsolicited pictures of me or follow me home. I tried to even get a restraining order against him, but the police didn't take it seriously. I wonder what they would say about my current circumstances,

as his open wound mushed against my thigh. And I held my breath and leaned in to wrap my arms around his waist. I used the pack as a way of time. tying a small makeshift bond between our bodies and zipped it up, carrying the load next to my body to keep his wound from touching any of my own. Even with the handcuffs, I could get it done. And now the real question became, would I be able to carry his dead body?

I made my grip as tight as possible and started to pull back, groaning against the shift as his arms came over me. Next I used my legs to push myself up, and in the process doing the same to him. In a way, having the handcuff in the position it was in now, interlocking with my grip, was a good way of making sure he didn't slump over so that we both fall to the forest floor. Before I could anticipate what would happen, though, his body started to tilt toward mine, and I began to push up to lean it against my right. right shoulder. It wasn't exactly a perfect balance like I hoped for, but now I could walk,

and it felt as though with the way his arms were around me, it would be easier to drag him. His dead eyes were staring right down at my chest, and I did my best not to puke. If he had been alive, I know he would be having a field day being so close to me. Then I began to slowly move toward the forest, hoping that any sense of direction would come to me. I don't really know how far I walked or for how long. All I could think about was that I needed to keep going. But I used the moon as a compass and kept it straight ahead, thinking that maybe I could find the lake and then weave my way around to Jimma's cabin.

As it turned out, that actually... worked. I found the shoreline probably half an hour later, and from there I worked right, spotting a shady outline of a cabin in the distance. Maybe I felt a renewed sense of urgency because I heard something off in the distance again, or maybe I was just so excited to get help, but those final moments getting to the cabin seemed to rush by. And I wasn't even really aware of the fact that I had likely dragged Noah's corpse so far. Loud music was still blaring from the cabin as I climbed the steps. A smile on my face as I shouted to someone inside to come out.

But there was no response. And as I reached the door, I realized it was unhinged. My excitement turned to dread, as the doors slowly opened and I saw a scene of carnage blood was everywhere even on the ceiling there were bodies strewn about and tossed like dolls

and most of them were torn apart with little left to recognize them the creature had come here and killed every single one of my friends. I realized as I slumped down on my knees and tried to hold back tears. As I did, I realized too late that I was not alone in that cabin. The tall cloaked creature was in the dim hallway. Its soft growl alerting me to its presence as it loomed nearer.

Get the hell away from me! I shouted as I reached for some pots and pans nearby on the marble counter and tossed them towards the beast. For some reason, it was like tossing a rock into a pond, and the monster's body rippled and shifted. Unaffected by my outburst. What do you want from me? Why not just kill me too? I shrieked as it kept staring at me. Given that I had lost so much already, at that moment I did feel like giving up.

I didn't really see a way that I could survive. Then, as if acknowledging what I had just screamed, the monster opened its cloak and stretched out a long charred finger toward me, pointing toward Noah. I felt the air leave my lungs for a very long moment, immediately run. repulsed by the idea that the corpse I had been carrying around was what it was searching for. I didn't know what to think or how to feel. I've hated Noah Hunt for months now, but I can't say that I ever felt he deserved to die, and especially not at the hands of a gruesome and disgusting humanoid creature.

I could only respond to keep myself alive and shoved his weight towards the creature, closing my eyes as its body reacted the way an ant-mound does when you disturb it. My hand felt tight as I was yanked forward automatically, and it began to rip and shred apart what little was left of Noah. But the carnage did not last long. Instead, its long bony mask was turning up toward me. and sniffing the air, almost as if it was unsatisfied by what I had just offered it.

"'What more do you want?' I shrieked, too mortified to move as strange tendrils of flesh vined their way toward my chest. I was certain that I was now about to die. But instead, it was the backpack that had been hoisted against me that the creature now felt for. the ratty old thing fell away as it broke Noah's arm and yanked it towards the empty holes of its mask. I watched in fascination and horror as the fleshy tendrils of its bodies searched the bag and dug out the coins that I had seen near the bottom. It was looking at them. The way a mother might a lost infant, or so it appeared to me. I took the chance to reach down and begin to pull my handcuffed arm away from Noah.

Thanks to the new wounds on his body, his arm was now dislocated from the rest of his corpse, and I could actually move freely. Having that bit of flesh still hanging freely from my side was disorienting at first, but I couldn't let it bother me if I wanted to survive. I began to run toward the open woods again. As I reached the porch of the cabin, I had second thoughts and looked to the carnage. Gemma, or one of the others, might have had a cell phone on them. I thought as I slowly moved toward their bodies.

The creature was paying me no heed, but still, I kept my movement slow and calculated, as I reached toward one of the fresh corpses and checked for any sign of an electronic device. Jimma was the one that actually still had a working phone and as much as I hated to do it I had to break her fingers off of the device then I had to use her broken thumb as a way of unlocking it my first instinct was to call 911 but then an image appeared on her background as a screensaver

that stopped me cold it was a casual shot of Jima standing next to her last to her live. lakehouse with Noah and they were smiling and kissing as they looked toward the camera. Jimma has always been vocal about her disgust for Noah as well, to the point that I was sure he wasn't supposed to be at this party at all. Yet this simple picture painted a different point of view for me. Instead of touching the phone icon, I began to read through her texts. Noah was the main one at the top. We need to be able to contain it. What's going on down there? Was the ritual successful?

I don't like how you're handcuffed to that thing. They could hurt you. Wait, I stopped reading and realized that they were talking about me. What ritual? And why did she think that I would somehow hurt Noah. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the beast crawling its way toward a wide gaping hole in the back of the room, a doorway to Jimma's parents' wine cellar. A flash of memory came back to me as I remember asking her why we couldn't go down and taste some of the bruise. She had offered a flimsy excuse about her parents finding out about the party, but now I was beginning to see things in a different way. Splinters of wood scattered around the basement door told me that the beast had once been sealed down here, and now it was returning. I found myself

stepping down the stairwell, following the creature like a lamb being led to slaughter. It was moving its goopy body toward a stone slab that was centered in the room, placing the coins down on the slab in a precise, meaningful way. All around I saw signs of wanton destruction from when the creature had apparently been released and then my eyes focused on a video camera that had toppled over. My mouth felt dry as I picked it up and rewound the tape.

Deep down, I knew what I was going to see. It being confronted by reality was still a game changer. The tape started with the stone's stone. Slav front and center. And then I saw Noah's face brimming with life, with more purpose than I had ever seen. He was rattling off the date and then claimed that this was the 23rd attempt. Behind him, I heard voices. Then I saw Gemma and one of her close friends, carrying my sleeping body to the slab.

Noah was finishing up with the coins and placing them back in his backpack before encouraging Gemma to get back. Once he was alone, he reached into the backpack and got out the handcuffs. A precaution to keep the monster from hurting anyone else, he said to the camera. Then he began to chant some ancient words, something that made my insight shake. On camera, I saw my body do the same. thing and from within my body the creature was starting to emerge and he was doing his best not

to be frightened as its charred body grappled with him and lifted him into the air everywhere the beast moved my body was now its unconscious shadow I heard the whispers of a word that told me it came from my subconscious nightmares was the harbinger and cause of this evil being released on the world world. The camera ended with the masked creature looking into it, and I could see my own dark reflection. And I stared across at the stone slab where it now slept, mortified by these revelations as I found myself stepping toward it. I was a killer, a monster, an evil that Noah and my friends had tried to contain, tried, and failed. It turned my palm toward the fleshy tendrils with an open hand and waited as it snaked across the open air, wrapping itself tight against my skin.

It had been running around the woods scared and confused and hungry. In a matter of seconds, it was now merging again with me, its host. Less than a few minutes later, I was standing alone in the cellar. I looked around at the blood and at the handcuff that now hung freely from my wrist. The last remnants of Noah were eaten by the monster as it came back inside me. I took a few moments to catch my breath and then smashed the camera to bits as I took out Jimma's phone and finally dialed 911. I began to walk upstairs. Flashes of the shadow that lived inside me were playing the carnage.

They had tried to stop it, tried and failed so miserably. Next, I stood out near the lake and looked down at the coins. These things that I felt were like offspring to me now. What powers did they hold? I scattered them into the lake and walked away before the authorities ever arrived, including the phone I had just used to make the call. When they arrived, I was sure they would assume it was a teenage drunk party gone horribly wrong, and that would be seen as the victim of a sick prank.

No one would know of the darkness inside me, the evil that was now whispering in my ear. It was fully awake, and our souls were symbiotic. There are others, it said, like me that I needed to find. So I walked until I found the highway I flagged down a friendly motorist Looking every bit the part I now played Where too?

They asked as I climbed into the back I looked into the rearview mirror And saw the bony mask of the beast Where my face had once been This was how I would see myself now For what I truly was anywhere I said as a smile came to my lips

Everywhere Okay Thanks for the story Atticus I'm not at all terrified And praying that you leave right now Wait Atticus take me with you

I don't know if you're ready for that Owen You see Kyle Harrison and I Are going on a quest into the unknown To a place called Jersey City. Pass. Oh, and aren't you from New Jersey? Not Jersey City. Pass.

Okay, dokey. Bye. Just stepped right over the mode again. John, is anything ever easy with you? Just the telling stories part. Throw another log on the fire. Let's stoke the Deirdre Coles, as I tell you, the legend of many hands. I'm going to tell you a story I've never told anyone before. I'm telling you because I want you know all kinds of things that are out in the woods, and what can happen if you go looking for him. When I was a young man,

I came back home for the summer after my first year of college. I was excited because my best run from high school were coming home too. Didn't take long for us to realize that after a year of freedom. The families and the houses we'd grown up in didn't quite fit anymore. All of our parents were driving us crazy with things like curfews and chores, and we decided to go camping together and get away for a few days. We hadn't planned ahead and made a reservation, so we had to go someplace remote. Some place where not a lot of people wanted to camp in the first place.

We went to a mountain range called the Bears Clause. The Bears Clause had a bad reputation back then. When my parents were young, it was a place where people went when they didn't have anywhere else to go. My parents said that half the people living there were criminals, and the other half just hadn't got caught yet. There were a lot of people living there. A lot of slapped-together, poorly constructed cabins. but no real community.

According to the stories I'd heard, there was an awful thing that happened too frequently that made the place seem even weirder. Bear's Clause was a cold and desperate place filled with poor and desperate people. The upper parts of the mountain were snow even in summer. You could set out from your cabin dress warmly enough, but if you had to go higher,

you might end up in freezing conditions. People were always scurrying up and down the mountain slopes, fetching wood or hunting game, or hiding from each other. And some of those got frostbite. Bad frostbite. They turned the fingers black. Sometimes that meant cutting off a finger

with a sharpened kitchen knife and stitching the wound shut. Sometimes they'd be cut off a whole hand. The story went that they'd throw those fingers and hands into the lake at the base of Sickle Mountain, the tallest mountain in the Bears Clause. Like I said, those were the stories passed down from my parents' generation.

By the time we weren't camping that summer, Bear's Clause was mostly known as State Parkland. As we drove towards our destination, I could feel the shadow of those old stories looming over me. But Sickle Lake was the prettiest lake I ever saw. Glassy and perfect and cupped in the forest and fields like a mirror in a giant's hands. Right next to the parking area, there was a flat, grassy meadow with a perfect view of the lake where we could picture tents. When all four of us got there and set up our camp, I felt like I was able to be able to be. breath for the first time since coming home from college. More about the four of us.

Besides me, there was Gareth, Lucas, and Dan Claffin. Everyone always said it just like that, his first and last name. Never just Dan. Never just Claffin. Gareth brought beer and lots of it, which cracked open a bottle and sat in folding chairs and started talking about our freshman year of college. The other three had so much to share.

Stories of pretty girls and wild parties. barely even talking about the classes they were taken. As the afternoon wore on, I got more and more quiet. The truth was, my freshman year of college hadn't been that great. The last few weeks of school, I was longing to come home for the summer. I hadn't made many new friends, and despite my best efforts, hadn't dated much either. I thought most of my classes were boring, and one of my professors seemed to actually hate me.

Not all the students in the class, just me, person. I guess I didn't really grasp what it would be like to go off of college without my friends. Dan Claffin and I went to preschool together. We met Gareth in kindergarten. Lucas, the latecomer, showed up when his family moved into town at third grade. We were pretty much a unit since then. Even when Gareth got on the football team and Lucas and I didn't, even when Dan Claffin made student council,

even when Lucas was dating Jessica Wyatt. We were always best friends and each other's top priority. I never had to wonder who I'd eat lunch with or how I was spending a weekend. I'd been carried along by these friendships like a rowboat on the current, not realizing how hard it would be to row alone and still water. What became clear as we were talking is that the others hadn't been nearly as lost without me. Lucas had a long-distance relationship with Jessica had gotten messy, and he did some things he wasn't proud of,

and maybe tell us more after a few more days and a few more beers. Nope. And maybe we'd tell us more after a few more days, or a few more beers. But by March he had a new girlfriend, Maria, and she was amazing. Gareth played college football. He said it was harder than he thought it would be to keep up with classes and practice, but he really liked his coach, and he thought he'd have a better handle on everything next year. Dan Claffin, of course, had a great year.

He was in student government and had his own radio show, and one of his professors was taking a personal interest and already talking about mentoring him in his future career. I was drinking more than anybody and not talking much, and the beer was starting to sour in my throat. What was my thing anyway? Lucas was a romantic, Gareth was the athlete, and Dan was the superstar. That was the sidekick, I guess. But sidekicks weren't in much demand at my new school. Dan Claffin, of course, noticed something was wrong.

I saw him glancing over at me now and then. He tried to draw me out a couple times, but so delicately that it wasn't really noticeable when I didn't respond. He's the king of social graces too, I thought grumpily. This full dark fell that got surprisingly cold, even with our campfire. Lucas said that Sickle Lake was glacier carved and glacier fed, and the once a surface warmth from the sun faded, the cold of the deep water welled up.

And then there was the weight of those cold mountains above us, the snowy and summer heights of those massive piles of stone. Lucas said he'd tell us some real Bear Clause ghost stories tomorrow night, but we'd have to start a little earlier and maybe build a bigger fire to ward off the cold. For now, he said, he wanted us to remember one thing. All those hands and fingers thrown into this very lake in front of us, now. Maybe tomorrow we'd find some of those finger bones washed up on the shore or step on them as we waited in to swim. Maybe some of those discarded parts had drifted down into the deeper

sections of the lake, where the waters was cold enough to keep them whole. Maybe some of those hands and fingers found each other, clutching and interweaving and mourning their lost bodies. Some campers on the shore, a sick of lake had reported hearing strange sounds in the bushes, seeing shapes that didn't make sense tumbling through the undergrowth in the woods. Someone got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, had never come back. We all groaned good-naturely at that point, even me, and Garrett threw an empty beer can of Lucas.

Lucas said he put the campfire out and the rest of us headed to our tents. We were spaced out a little, with Gareth on the far left, mostly because Gareth always snored and the rest of us tended to snore when we were drinking beer. The silly ghost story seemed to have broken the spell in my bad mood. My sleeping bag was pleasantly warm and I got comfortable, ready for a good night's sleep and the clean mountain air. All the same. There was a little worm of disquiet in me. I wasn't sure where it came from. I'd camp plenty of times before with my family and with my friends, but we'd never been the only group at a campsite before. Of course, if there had been other people,

around we might have been more discreet about our underage drinking. Still, the campground vibe felt a little odd, a little off, emptier than it should be somehow. Despite the remoteness of the area, I was getting a wireless signal. I pulled out my phone to check to see if I had service and was comforted to see that I did. I couldn't fall asleep. I listened to the final settling sounds of the others, of Lucas pouring water on the fire and zipping up his tent. I knew I'd be glad at the distance once Gareth started snoring, but I wished our tents were a little closer together. I took my phone out again and started to read one of the library books I downloaded just in case I couldn't sleep. My phone light wasn't very bright, but I guess it was bright enough.

Sweep. I jerked upright in my sleeping bag. A hand slapped the outside of my tent. Outlined black against a soft blue glow of reflected light. And Lucas, I thought to myself. He was playing a stupid prank to try and scare me. Another hand. Pretty far away from the first one.

Oh, great. You'd round it up Dan, or maybe Gareth or maybe both of them. That's a great way to cheer up your bummed out friend. The rest of you gang up on him. Go out, swap, swap. By the fifth hand, I realized that was my friends at all. Because the fifth hand was tiny. A small child's.

and then came a storm of hands, slapping against my tent so violently I couldn't believe the tent stayed up. I felt one of the hands slapped against my leg where it touched the ten wall, and it was horribly cold. I was very frightened, of course. And so I did something bad. I had my phone in my hands, and I called the most recent number in my call log. That number was Dan Claffins. I was trying to warn him, of course. he needed to know about the ghost story come to life so he could protect himself and the others.

Actually, there's more to it. I thought maybe he could help me. Maybe once he got outside his tent, he could see whatever was attacking my tent and come to my rescue. Actually, no, that's not it at all. The time has come to tell the truth to myself. you as well. I called because I wanted the thing outside to hear his phone ringing. To focus on him,

rather than focusing on me. And my plan worked. A little ringing sound came from his tent. The slapping hands slowed. When he stirred and wrestled as he woke up and grappled for the phone, they stopped. The thing rushed over in his direction. Here's the thing about sleeping bags you need to remember.

Unlike blankets on the bed, you can't toss him aside if you need to. If you need to run, if you need to flee, you have to wiggle your way out, like you're shedding a skin. Once I was free at the sleeping bag, I still had to unzipped the flap to escape from my tent. And I wasn't sure how to do that quietly.

But by then Dan Claffin had started shrieking, and the fabric of his tent was ripping, and I didn't need to be quiet anymore. I bound it out of my tent and didn't look back. I went straight for the shore, because I'd remembered something from all the scraps of old ghost stories floating around in my head. Supernatural things can't cross over water. I saw their shadowy figures out there on the grass in between me and the lake, and for a second,

I didn't recognize them. Dan Claffin's screaming and struggling and woken up the others. Gareth, always the man of action, went running straight towards Dan's tent. Lucas was dazed, stumbling in my direction. I took his arm and pulled him after me into the lake. He was too confused even to resist at first, but when the water hit our knees and the deep cold bit into his legs, he stopped. It can't cross the water!

I hissed at him. The moon was covered with clouds, and it was too dark to get a good view of what was happening at Dan Claffin's tent. I am grateful for that, even now. But it was easy to hear what was happening. To hear Dan's voice splinter and break into a kind of wet barking, and then fall silent. To hear Gareth shouts of anger collapse into screams of pain,

Lucas yielded to my pull. It was a floating dock out in the lake, one that should have been scrapped by the State Park Department years ago. It hung low in the water. The wood was slimy with the mold and moss, many rainy winters out in the elements, and one corner of it drooped down so far it was actually in the lake. So that was where we headed.

It was the only place to go. The lake was brutally cold. I didn't want to lower myself in the swim until I absolutely had to, so I stumbled and lurched out into the water. I could feel mud and small things cracking under the soles of my feet, fish bones or finger bones. As my feet stirred up the mucked the surface of the surface of my feet, the water exhale the smell of death all around me.

When the water was up to my shoulders and I had to start swimming, the cold knifed into me, draining the strength from my body. I reached the dock first. As I climbed up the old ladder, one of the rungs cracked under my foot and I yelped out loud. I dragged myself onto the dock, making room for Lucas behind me. A long splinter skewered my foot. That was the only time I had blood turned the home. all night. With the combined weight of Lucas and me, the dock hung even lower in the lake.

Nearly a quarter of it was submerged around the drooping corner. Lucas and I dragged ourselves at the opposite corner. We were both panting, drained from our swim to the cold water and the shocks of the night. We didn't speak. We knew that both Dan and Gareth were dead. We knew what had come for them. And then we could both hear the sounds of something moving along the shoreline. Again, I was grateful for the dark, because what I could see was awful enough.

There was something indescribably horrible about the creature's movement. So many fingers, all moving independently. Many trying to go one way while the others dragged them along another. The sound of it moving through the undergrowth, pulling your branches and pushing them aside and rolling over the fallen leaves of the forest floor all at once, In the faint starlight, I thought I could see the reflection of many liquid lidless eyes, watching me from where they were embedded deep in the palms, the hands. Then it crept backwards, away from the shore.

My plan, such as it was, was to stay on the dock, cold and miserable, and wait until morning light to make her escape. I'd gotten a ride to the campsite with Dan. My heart quailed at the thought of searching for his keys. But as it turned out, searching my friend's mangle body for car keys was the least of my problems. Lucas and I were huddled back to back. Some kind of animal instinct led us to press together.

We both shivered in racking waves. I could feel the low, dull heat of his body against mine. Not nearly enough to keep me warm, but maybe enough to keep me alive. I closed my aching eyes, trying to focus on getting through the next minute, not getting through the long night stretching ahead of me, not getting through a life haunted by guilt and shame and questions to come. And then I felt something lurching underneath us. I jerked upright, and Lucas did too.

We could only watch his pale fingertips, hundreds of them, crept up and around the edges of the dock. And then the dock was being dragged towards the shore. Lucas stared at me in horror. And then he whispered something I'd forgotten. They can't cross running water, he said. Eganizingly slow. The dock was pulled through the lake.

I was nearly boneless with terror. Lucas was more proactive. He gathered himself into a kind of runner's crouch facing the shoreline, balancing on his toes in the middle of the dock with his fingertips touching the slimy wood. I could see what he was thinking. maybe there might be a chance maybe he could leap off the dock

over the things reach and into the shallows before it could catch him I knew Lucas very well knew him down to his bones I didn't know only what Lucas was thinking in that moment but what he would think in the future Lucas still blamed himself

for his little brother breaking his leg falling down the stairs he would never stop blaming himself for not running to Dan and Gareth to try and save them He would want to discuss it with me. He would want to hash it over. He might realize some of the details I gave him didn't quite line up.

He would be tortured by, consumed by regret. He wouldn't be able to move on. I, on the other hand, was made a stronger stuff. As the edge of the dock bumped up against the shells, the lake I raised my hands. Because of the way he was balanced on his toes, it was easy, I tipped him over and into the water. He almost belly flopped into the shallows, into reaching, grabbing hands.

I planted one foot on his back like we were playing some twisted game of leapfrog and spring for solid ground. And as you can see, I made it. Back to land, back to the cars, back home to the city where my story about being attacked by some drugged-up crazy people fit imperfectly with every stereotype people held about the Bears Clause. The police and the other boys' families did come up and search the area.

They never found anything. They found the cars and a torn up tents, but never so much as a drop of blood. Not a single fingerbone. To this day, those boys are listed as missing and not murdered. The case is not yet closed. Now, I see the way you're

looking at me. It seems like maybe you think you would have made different choices. Maybe you don't like me all that much anymore. Maybe even think I'm a coward. There are different kinds of courage, you know. The courage to choose to survive, to do whatever it takes to survive. That's my kind of courage. The courage to tell the truth, even if it might make you look bad.

the courage to keep a promise, a blood oath, to keep that oath even to the end. Oh, no. I'm not talking about my end. Didn't you think that was a little too quick and easy, that last part of my story? Didn't you hear those sounds coming from the forest outside the circle of our campfire's light?

After sacrificing my closest friend one by one, I had to do one more thing to survive. I had to make a deal with the monster. A promise. To bring it fresh blood, fresh bodies, fresh fingers and hands. Yours, specifically. The creature was willing to wait years, to wait decades as it turned out. You can try to run, to escape.

I would like that, actually. That would amuse it. But take it from me, I don't think you'll actually get away. It doesn't matter how many miles or how many years are between you. You'll never escape many hands. Starting to think that I'll never escape a lot of things.

It's been a long month. I know. Let's say we forget about you needing to sacrifice your hands for a bit. we should probably go get some shut-eye. We need to get packed up and out of here in a few days before... Before... Can you keep a secret? No.

We kind of aren't supposed to be here. Wait, what do you mean, John? What? You think a podcaster can afford to rent out an entire camp for a month? I thought it was discounted because of the mass murders across the lake. Yeah. Still. Podcaster.

Oh, so... So we're just squatting here? Yeah, very illegally. We just need to be out of here before the property management comes by to do their monthly check. Why don't we just go now? Not done yet. But soon. It's fine.

Just get some shut-eye. Man, I told you, I'm tired from the moat digging. I'll just throw some gas on the fire. It'll launch us right back to our cabins. I don't know. My internal organ still hurt from the last couple times I did that. Fine, then just step over the... Do you dig an animal trap?

Well, it's a zombie trap. I dug a bunch after JV's story. And only I have the map to avoid them. Yeah? Well, only I have the map back to civilization. I'll take my chances. See you soon, Owen. See you soon.

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