Creepy - Creepaway Camp 2024: Day 3 - Bear Creek & Tower in the Woods

Episode Date: April 11, 2024

Bear Creek***Written by: No One of Consequence and Narrated by: Nate DuFort***Tower in the Woods***Written by: Liam.Goff and Narrated by: Alicia Atkins***Story link: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Tower_in_the_Woods***This story is is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike License.***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod and get a limited edition set of Creepy logo mardi gras beads!***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas 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 depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. You think John's going to be mad? Mad? I've never seen John mad before.

Annoyed, sure. Socially awkward, of course. Slow on the uptake? That's a given. Innebriated, gassy, oblivious. Check, check, check. But mad? Nah.

Sure. But he's been camping out in the swamps while we've all been living it up in the French quarter with his business credit card. He would have wanted us to enjoy ourselves. He's not dead. As far as we know. I'm pretty sure the only thing that can kill John is John.

Or alligators. I wouldn't worry too much about it. This was his plan, after all. He really only needs us around once in a while to tell some stories and allow him to live in his little dream world bubble. I'm sure you're right. Hey, John, we're back. John? John?

Only in the hottest years this happens. And this year, it grows hot. We begin finding our men. We found them sometimes without their skin. And sometimes much, much worse. Men? What men? I knew these men.

Queen Berets or the Fort Bragg What the hell were they doing here? He's just quoting Predator, right? Yeah, he does this sometimes with Shane Black movies. At least it isn't the last Boy Scout this time. John? Can you please come out from wherever you're hiding? We came back here to help with camp.

Behold! Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Yeah. That's John completely covered in mud to hide from the predator's infrared vision. Should we be concerned? Honestly, I expected worse. At least he still has his pants on this time. What are we supposed to do?

Is it like how you weren't supposed to wake a sleepwalker? Let me try something. Oh, dude! The hell! Sorry, had to snap you out of it. You were monologuing. That Schaefer or Joel. Hollenbeck.

Dutch. That explains the mud. Where the hell of you two been? Getting supplies? For a week? There was a long line. Where are they getting supplies? The camping store.

What's the name of the store? Mike's camping store. Huh. Okay, well since you're back, you can help me set stuff up. Gonna take it a long time up and ready for people to want to come to, let alone come back to. I guess I didn't really think about repeat campers. Is there anything I should look out for? You could start by making sure it doesn't end up like Bear Creek.

It was the summer of 1995, and I'd been looking forward to it for what seemed like forever. School was finally out, and summer was in full swing. I packed and repacked my bags a bunch of times. my excitement uncontained. It was our fourth year going to Bear Creek, and as 11-year-olds, we felt on top of the world. Not only did we just graduate the fifth grade, it was our last year at that level for camping.

Like elementary and middle school, camp had different age brackets. In your final year of the elementary bracket, you got to do more advanced activities like archery and hatchet throwing. Our parents met up in the parking lot and said by to us as a group. It was because of that that the four of us knew each other.

However, it was our time at camp and school that made us friends. The main camp of Bear Creek pretty much consisted of a valley and the two mountains on either side of it. There was a lot more to it than that, several miles of woods and mountains with hiking trails. All the activities took place in the valley, while the campsites in Chow Hall were all on one mountain. The other mountain was where the staff stayed.

I know there were more permanent structures over there while the campers got to sleep in tents. The only permanent structures on our side of the mountain was the Chow Hall and bathrooms. The tents we were assigned to were older military-style canvas tents. There were wooden platforms built for them, so we weren't directly on the ground. That end, they were already set up by the time we got there. Not that a bunch of 11-year-olds could reach high enough to set those up properly. Each campsite had six tents together, and there were, five sites. As we were in the final year of that age bracket, we got to claim our tents first.

The four of us rushed to the far site, the one closest to the mountain's edge. The tents were only big enough for two campers apiece, so Charlie and I shared a tent while Morgan and Alex got the one next to us. Our two tents had the best view of the valley below. I can still remember the sight of it to this day. It's not like we were on a cliff's edge, but the mountain did steeply roll off. All along the mountain slope were tall cedar trees, pockets of bare patches of rock, and lush green colors danced between different hues. The valley stretched on below, but with very few trees. There were wide open spaces for the camp activities, a dirt road on one side, and a river on the other. The road followed the river until the water crossed over and met about a mile

down the valley. Trails littered the woods, some going up and down the mountains. In order to get anywhere in camp, you had to hike. The mornings were always the easiest because you went down the mountain to the Chow Hall since it was midway up. From there, you went all the way down and went to whatever activities you were assigned. All meals were taken at the Chow Hall, so going up the mountain was a giant pain. The worst was the end of the day, having to go all the way up when you were tired sucked, but we did it. There were a few adult leaders that stayed nearby the kids campsites just to oversee everything. The oldest kids were allowed to have a fire in each site, but that year, we decided to do it a little differently. Instead of each site having a fire,

we all gathered at one. Since it was summer and summer. Hot enough as it was, we didn't have a fire very often, but when we did, we had it at our site. After setting all our gear up, we had orientation, followed by dinner. Once that was done, we hiked back up the mountain and gathered wood on the way. The only kind of wood we were allowed to burn was the stuff we found on the ground. We gathered our fair share, but convinced the younger campers to do the lion's share of it. As the sun was getting closer to the horizon, the air started getting a little cooler. Morgan was the fire bug out of our group and wouldn't let anyone else mess with the fire pit.

That was fine with me. Once darkness settled over the world, our fire was going well and all the campers were gathering around. I made sure to keep my tent at my back. As a kid, I still believed in monsters that lurked in the dark, and it was a lot less likely one would sneak up on me for me. the steep slope on the other side of my tent. The campers were grouped together in their friend groups, and no one sat alone.

They murmured amongst themselves before I finally got to my feet. It was the tradition for the older kids to tell a story on the first night of camp, and this year it was me and my friend's turn. We decided to tell a story we hadn't heard since our first year at Bear Creek, and it meant none of the others had heard it either. A long time ago, the land bear creek was on belonged to a family by the name of Bacla. They were Irish immigrants with a big family and had many houses on the property. Each member of the family was given an intricately designed Iron Cross with their name engraved on the back.

One of the kids, only eight years old, was named Dylan and was as curious as a kid could be. Dylan wandered all over the vast property, curious what was out there, no matter what the family said. If they said not to go into the barn, that's where Dylan would go. They once said not to go near the shed near the woods, and that's exactly where Dylan went. That had been a mistake because there were animals being slaughtered and butchered at the time. It made Dylan sick to watch, but those curious eyes never looked away. At night, Dylan stayed inside, but often spent hours looking out the window. There were always strange noises in the night, and the only thing Dylan dared to do was look out the window.

Sometimes the wind would kick up so hard that it swung the wrought iron gate, making it crash into the post over and over again. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, it made it hard to sleep. One warm summer day, Dylan got off to exploring the land and wandered farther than ever before. By the time it was getting dark, Dylan wasn't even halfway back home. The wind kicked up something fierce that night, so much that it made it harder to see. Dylan got so turned around that panic started to take hold of the eight-year-old's mind. But then, a noise cut through the roaring of the wind.

It was the sound of a wrought iron gate swinging hard with the wind. Honing in on the noise, Dylan made it through the trees and started climbing the slope of the mountain. It wasn't until the banging gate was within sight that it occurred to Dylan what was wrong. The family houses were all in the valley. Not one was on the side of a mountain. There was a cave in the mountain that Dylan had never seen before, and the banging gate was at the entrance. As far as Dylan knew, no one had been on this land before the family settled here.

There'd never been any mining on their land, so where had the gate come from? It's not like any of the family left the homestead to build their own home away from the others. Everyone believed in the safety of numbers. Deciding that it was too late to keep going, Dylan decided to hunker down in the cave. If there was a gate there, perhaps it meant that there were no bears sleeping in the depths of the cave. Animals weren't smart enough to know how gates worked, and that was enough for the kid's mind. Dylan was more concerned with the scolding that was coming once back home, only Dylan never made it back home. The next day, the family set out to find the missing child.

They scoured the valley for days, calling out Dylan's name, but hearing no response, other than their own echoes. It wasn't until a particularly windy day that one of the cousins heard the distant banging of the wrought iron gate. Venturing closer to the source, the gated entrance to the cave was discovered. A horrible odor emitted from the opening,

making the young man think of the slaughterhouse in summer. The four bravest men in the family went inside with lanterns, and when they came out, Their faces were as pale as if they'd seen a ghost. They carried a gore-drenched sheet with them, what remained of the missing child. The Iron Cross was never found.

It had been days since Dylan went missing, and there wasn't much left to find. Some people say that a witch got to the kid. Others believe a wild animal tore the body to pieces. Others claim it was a monster that stalked the woods and dragged the poor child into the cave. No one really knows what actually happened to Dylan, but that's not where the story ended. Even to this day, people have claimed to hear the eerie laugh of a child in those woods

at all hours when no one's around. At night, even though the gates are long gone, you can hear the banging of wrought iron when the wind is strong. Some say that Dylan wanders the woods looking for the Iron Cross. This was the story we told that first night. The fire pit had one of those cooking grills that can cover half the ring, and when you're not using it, you can swing it up and away to lay on the ground. Any time the swinging gate was mentioned, one of us would pick up the grill and drop it on the ground a few times. We could see it was freaking out the others, even the one's our age.

The next few days were a blast. We got to do our activities and got some free time to explore the camp trails on our own. Kids had a lot more freedom back in those days. Yeah, we got hurt on occasion, but that's how we learned. I remember it was the fifth day of camp when the four of us went exploring on our own. It was the first time we were allowed to go exploring the back trails, but not the first time we'd been out there. Last year we snuck off a few times

because we wanted to go looking for Dylan's cave, but we never made it far. We were too scared that someone would notice us missing and we'd get into so much trouble. Now that we were allowed to, we took advantage. There were no activities scheduled for that day, so we loaded up with granola bars from the chow hall at breakfast and set out right after eating.

The trails were empty and the sounds of nature were all we could hear. As we walked to those trails, we kept close to the mountainside. After a few hours, the wind started picking up, and I could have sworn I heard a child giggling. I wasn't the only one who'd heard it, and we stopped to look at each other. It hadn't been any of us, and we looked back the way we'd come to see if any of the others had followed us. As far as we could tell, we were the only ones out there. It occurred to all of us what it had been. and as we realized that eerie possibility, we heard it again.

This time, it came from ahead of us, not behind. Alex was getting spooked and wanted to turn back, but the rest of us weren't so easily deterred. I pressed on, picking up the pace. The giggling kept coming, and after a while, it felt like I was practically running to keep up with it. The farther we got, the stronger than the stronger, the wind that our faces became. It had been at least ten minutes since I last heard the giggle,

but then I heard something that stopped me cold in my tracks. It was just like when we told Dylan's story at the campfire. The clang, clang of wrought iron, banging in the wind, punctuated the air like a call. Morgan rushed past me and Charlie was about to do the same, but I started up again. Alex was last behind, but didn't let us get too far because being alone in the woods, even in broad daylight, was scarier than chasing a ghost story. It took a while, but we followed the sound until we were forced to wander off the trail. I hadn't been surprised that happened, otherwise everyone would know where Dylan's cave was. Every time that metallic bang cracked through the air, I felt a jolt of my spine. I still don't know if it had been excitement or terror, but it fueled me to keep going.

We crawled up the slope of the mountain until the grade started to get too much for us. The clang got louder and louder, and we were forced to find footholds in the mountain and practically climb up. Finally, I reached a ledge I hadn't realized was there and laid my eyes on it. The metal appeared old from the way it had been forged, but other than that, It looked new. There was no rust on the iron, no build-up of dirt and grime. If I hadn't known any better, I'd have sworn someone just put that gate up earlier that day. With no lock to keep it in place, it continued to swing in the wind. When we all finally got on the ledge, I pulled out my flashlight. I'd been the only one to think we might actually find it because the others didn't have a light.

Alex opted to stay at the entrance, just in case someone decided to come out of nowhere and lock the rest of us in. It sounded unlikely and was an obvious excuse for the scaredy cat to stay outside, but we were kids. It sounded like a solid idea. The three of us slowly made our way into the cave. It wasn't the first time we'd been underground like this, but it was the first time we didn't have a guide to leave the way. The space would have been tight for an adult. but us kids walked right through. At one point, I reached up and brushed my hand against the ceiling.

My hand came away with a slimy residue on it. I know now it had been a combination of moisture and minerals, but at the time I thought it was cave-snot or the slime trail of some giant slug monster. We made it in a ways before the tunnel opened up into a chamber, not much bigger than a two-car garage. There were some stones, dirt, and pieces of wood strewn about the cave floor, but other than that, there didn't appear to be anything.

As far as we could see, there wasn't anything else to this cave. We looked around more closely, believing there had to be more to this place than we could see. At one point, disappointed that there wasn't more, I kicked at a pile of sticks. I heard a clang, similar to the sound of the gate-banging, but much smaller. Crouching down I inspected the pile I just kicked and found something amidst the sticks. It was a small metal cross with so much grime built up on it that it looked just like one of the sticks. I picked it up and showed the others, but we didn't get to look at it too closely. We began to hear that child's giggle again, but this time we knew it wasn't coming from someone that had been following us.

There wasn't another person in the cave besides the three of us, and there wasn't anywhere for someone to hide. The giggle grew louder, the tone turning harsher. We ran as it became a crying scream. Alex looked panicked as we came rushing toward the gate. He'd been on the outside holding the gate open. Just as we were about to reach it, the gate clanged closed, and Alex was suddenly gone.

Wind hit me in the face and I felt trapped. That scream from deeper in the cave reaching out for us. I hit the gate expecting it to be locked but it swung open. We booked it through and in our haste forgot about the drop on the other side. The three of us tumbled down to the ground, rolling against the hard surface and occasionally bouncing off a tree. We found Alex at the bottom holding his head and bleeding from a cut on his fore. forehead. The rest of us were a little banged up, and Morgan had a small limp, but other than that, we were fine. I used my tiny first aid kit to clean Alex's wound as he desperately explained that

the wind had kicked up. He hadn't meant to close the gate on us, and he certainly hadn't walked off the ledge on purpose. It wasn't until we got back to camp that I remembered the cross in my pocket. As soon as we came back into the valley, the counselor's swarmed us like a cloud of mosquitoes. We were taken to the first aid station and cleaned up. Morgan's limp was pretty much gone by then, and we were all closely inspected for even the smallest cut or scrape. I hadn't realized the skin of my left elbow had been scraped away by a rock in the fall. It hadn't bled that much, but it got slathered in ointment and wrapped in a bandage. We let the other kids our age build the fire as darkness started creeping in at camp.

We were more focused on the cross I'd found. It took a while, but with some water and Charlie's spare toothbrush, we were able to scrub off all the build-up on the iron. The others finally got the fire going, and by the flames glow, I could see the name on the back of the cross. It was Dylan. Hurricane strength winds blew into the camp, knocking all of us to the ground. Screams echoed at us from the darkness,

but I couldn't tell if it was the same one from the cave or if it was the other kids in the camp. We were in the heart of a storm. Some of the kids tried getting to their tents, but the wind was so strong that tied down flaps were coming loose and whipping harshly through the air. I laid on the ground next to the fire, unsure what I could do. Morgan was next to me and pointed to something I hadn't seen. A pale figure, less than four feet tall, stood at the edge of the edge of the edge of the edge of, of the tree line. It was looking directly at me, the shoulder-length hair unmoving in the strong winds.

I knew exactly what I was looking at. The ghost of poor eight-year-old Dylan Backloff, and it was pissed. The screams started forming the words, Give it back! The campsite was utter chaos, and I could only think of one thing to do. I got to my knees and hurled the cross at the pale figure. Just like that, the wind was gone, and the only screaming was coming from the frightened children. It didn't take long for the campsite to be flooded with much older people, frantically trying to figure out what all the commotion was about. The four of us never admitted to finding Dillon's cave,

and we've to this day never divulge the location. The ghostly encounter didn't stop us from going back to Bear Creek the next year. I remember sitting at the tree line just outside our campsite by myself one night, and a gentle breeze blew in. On that cool wind, I heard a soft giggle, followed by a happy voice saying, Thank you. It was the last time I heard the wind speak,

but not the last time I heard it giggle. Okay, well, I... I can't promise none of that will happen. It seems like you really should promise that kind of thing will never happen. At the moment, my priority is just trying to get everything built. Just like Henry David Thoreau. Who? The guy who wrote Walden?

Exactly. Dude decided to move out in the middle of nowhere, built a house all on his own, it was completely self-sufficient without needing to rely on anyone or anything. That's not how it really happened. It's just like the dude says If you build it, they will come There's no way that's right Have you even read the book?

No And you can't make me If five years a college English literature student loans Couldn't get me to read it You sure as hell ain't gonna I had to buy and sell that book three times Man Every time I get a glimpse into what made you this way

I feel like I understand even less Come on, help me build a book bunk beds. I've been whittling nails for the last three days. That's just the box of toothpicks. Yeah. Thanks to me. I think John has finally lost it. Nah, this is just the next evolution. Like Goku, but in reverse. I appreciate the anime reference.

Come on. If we hurry, we can get to sleeping cabin up before the others get here. Pass. I... You can't do that. Can you? I don't build things in the woods. What? Why?

Because of the tower in the woods. When Dylan moved to Lakewood, he was too young to remember where they lived prior. Not that it was anything special, a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, New York. The suburbs were a welcome change to the rest of the family. Diane and Ron were his parents. A stay-at-home mom and a police officer. The money was okay, enough to support the family with a few extra things here and there. Lakeview was a small town in upstate New York with a tight-knit community.

Everyone knew everything. Surprisingly, not many people knew about the tower in the woods. The place where people really didn't go. It was located off a dimly lit river road that ran parallel to a foul-smelling wetland. Every time someone drove down the road, they immediately smelled the mud. musty, dirty aroma that wafted from the woods. Needless to say, people avoided the road, and never even thought about the woods. There was another street, on the other side of the forest, that went the same way.

River Road was almost useless, besides the fact that it ran straight into Dylan's house. Kids are a different story. When Dylan turned nine, the woods were a stomping ground, building forts, naming paths, climbing trees, skipping rocks through the swampy water. The smell didn't bother him. It gave him comfort. It was just the smell of the woods to him. He made a few friends in school, although he wasn't the least bit popular.

Their names were Allison and Carter. Dylan would have them over after school to do homework and talk about a band that they would start and be the most famous people the world had ever seen. A few weeks into the fifth grade, Dylan decided he should show his friends to the woods. He had kept the place all to himself before, but as he grew closer to his friends, he decided to reveal his safe haven to them. One day while sitting in Dylan's room, he said, All right, guys, you know the woods up the road? Allison and Carter, looking quite confused, nodded their heads. Those woods no one goes in. I've had the place all to myself for a while,

but I really want to show you guys the cool stuff in there. At this point, Dylan was very anxious to go out and show them the place only he had ever known all this time. Allison and Carter looked at him for a moment before Allison said, Those woods smell funny. You go in there? Dylan's smile deflated and he scowled and started putting on his shows. His friends followed suit. He announced to his mother that they were going in the woods. She gave them a smile from the living room, on the phone, and mouthed to, be careful, before the door closed behind them. They trekked down the opening of the woods, where the smell hit like a brick wall. Dylan inhaled deeply and lit out a satisfied exhale.

He motioned for his friends to follow and started on the familiar path he made. They came upon the fort that he constructed a few months ago. Dylan added a few sticks before proclaiming, This is my castle! Allison and Carter looked wide-eyed at the crooked structure of sticks. Carter was the first one in. From inside, he yelled, Cool, you brought out videotapes?

Dylan's proud smile faded when he saw Carter exit the fort with the VHS tape in his hand. Carter questioned, Why'd you bring this tape out here? You can't even watch it or anything. Dylan looked at the tape confused, scratched his head and said, I didn't bring that out here. Someone else must have found my fort. With this realization, Dylan was very disappointed.

There was a few moments of silence before it was broken by the excited voice of Allison. Maybe they built a fort they want us to find. Like a treasure hunt! Carter nodded his head quickly in agreement, and Dylan's smile began to return. Dylan replied, Yeah, there's this one area across the swamp that I've never gone to because I can't cross. They agreed that their mission was to find a way across the water to meet the other wanderer of the woods. They walked up and down the front of the water and, and,

furiously brainstormed. Maybe we can build a bridge? Carter suggested. Dylan replied. No, no, it would never work. It's too far across. Allison was about to add an idea when they heard a loud crack. They turned to the source of the voice

and saw a broken root jutting out of the ground snapped in half. It was almost pointing to an area of the water that split into a series of creeks. They walked over to it, and could slightly make out of pre-existing structure. It looked like a very thin bridge that zigzagged its way across the creeks. An audible gasp of excitement emanated from Dylan, as he happily started on the four-inch bridge that lie across the putrid of muddy waters.

The bridge was broken in a few places, which was caused for jumping some creeks and maneuvering through thick thorn bushes. After a solid 20 minutes, they made it across. In front of them stood a large stone tower, surrounded in a flat, concrete clearing covered by leaves. The area was circular and surrounded by creeks, almost like the moat to a castle. Sounds of excitement came from the group as they all jogged to the structure.

They came to the door and opened it right up without hesitation. Inside was a spiral staircase leading up. There were light bulbs coming out of the walls all the way up the stairs. Dylan flipped the switch to the right of the door to no avail. Regardless, they climbed to the top of the tower where the staircase opened into a makeshift kitchen. Right in front of them were a few cabinets, a microwave, and a very large sink. Next to the sink were tools that looked like they belong in a dentist's office, and a few empty bottles of bleach. Confused, they explored this kitchen, opening cabinets and turning on the faucet.

Dylan looked at the running water and asked his friends, how do you think they got running water all the way up here? His friends looked at him and shrugged. They continued their inspection. They came across a heavy steel door clad in padlocks and dead bolts, all of which were unlocked. The group agreed that the door felt almost hidden, and that added a sense of adventure.

More excited than ever before, Allison pushed the door open. Inside were tall bookshelves full of VHS tapes and plain white slips with names and dates on them. They were ordered alphabetically. Dylan looked across some. Alex 92, one read, and Andrew 99 was written on another. There was a tape missing before a tape labeled Brian 95.

Their excitement turned to confusion as they continued their search. A small television sat in the corner, with a dirty old notebook on top of it. Allison crossed to it and flipped through the pages. She finally spoke. It's just a whole bunch of names. She turned the book around to show her friends. Carter walked over to her and happily wrote his name below the rest, and giggled, satisfied.

They continued their search when Dylan came across a box full of old camera equipment and shared it with his friends. Looking just as confused as everyone else, Carter looked at the VHS tape he had been carrying since they left Dylan's fort. The white slip was blank. He pulled the tape out. Written in black marker was Brandon O'1. Carter's face turned beat red, and he turned to Allison. She covered her mouth, gasped and whispered. Brandon.

Dylan was looking quite confused when he asked, Who is? Carter cut him off. My brother went missing in 2001. He never came home from school. They found his... Carter got choked. choked up, then cleared his throat. Silence fell over the room. Carter broke from his days,

walked to the television set, turned it on, and inserted the tape. No one protested. They knew they couldn't stop him from watching it. Allison and Dylan wordly looked at each other, not knowing what to expect. The tape started up and displayed a room with gray walls in an empty bed covered in white sheets, with a brown-stuffed bear in the center. A young boy, maybe eight or nine years old, entered with a backpack on, climbed on the bed and held the bear. You could hear him say, So I did leave you in the fort Grizzy? The boy smiled to himself and looked around. The kids watched the tape, confused as ever.

The boy looked into the camera and was visibly confused when a loud slam came through the speakers, and the boy was startled. Quick thumps like someone rube. were heard, and a large man appeared on screen. The boy looked horrified, and his knuckles were white from squeezing the bear. The man stood over the boy, breathing heavily and caressed the side of his face. The man climbed onto the bed, and Dylan, Carter and Allison all turned away, afraid they'd witnessed the man hurt the boy.

They ran out of the room and came across another door. It was painted white, although the paint was chipped and peeling. Still scared and confused, Carter opened the door. They stood frozen as they saw a camera lying on the floor, and a bed covered in white sheets with huge copper-colored stains on it. In the corner of the room, the same bear from the video was lying on the floor. Carter began to cry, and they ran out down the stairs into the clearing. They saw the road on the other side of the woods visible through the tree line.

They ran toward it as the sun disappeared behind. the horizon. Roots and branches seemed to reach for them as they ran away. Allison jumped over a small creek and made her way up the hill through the trees to safety. Dylan followed and stopped to wait for Carter, who had been hysterical since they'd ran out of the tower and moving slower. Carter jumped up when Dylan saw a route reach out and wrap around Carter's foot. He fell and whimpered. Dylan reached out and grabbed his friend's hand and looked into his eyes, full of terror. and running with tears. Dylan swore he saw Carter dragged away into the foliage.

He tried to run and help him when he heard a loud scream come from the tower, through the speakers at the television. Almost too scared to function. Dylan ran up the hill and met his friend there, both crying and screaming for help until an elderly woman heard them. The police investigation didn't take excessively long. They went out into the woods and saw the tower. Apparently, it was part of a sewage treatment plant that used to be down there.

Abandoned in the mid-80s, the woods always had a putrid smell. When the police found the tapes and reviewed the footage, the children and the tapes were all identified as missing children from around the country. They never found Carter. They searched the woods and found the bodies of all the children in the tapes, lying at the bottom of the swamp. No one ever questioned the putrid smell of the swamp. they all just avoided it.

All the bodies of the children had been lying there, some for over 20 years. All the bodies, but Brandon. His body had been found years ago in a dumpster, in the next town over only three days after being reported missing. They never searched the woods. Dylan swore to the police that he saw that Earth drag his friend away. The police told his parents that a child's mind will do anything to recover from a trauma like the one Dylan had endured.

The man in the tape was identified as a man named Kenneth Brown, who was found hanging in his apartment three years ago, his room full of stuffed animals. That's as good a reason as any. John, how about if we... John? Where'd he go? John?

John? John! Where are you, buddy? I swear I'm this close to putting a bell on him like a cat. John? Wait, is that him up there? How do you climb a tree that fast? Land ho!

Finally, the vast land lovers. Toward the main line before we run aground. That's it. I'm out. Alicia, we can't just leave. You've got to be... Ah! John, you son of a bitch! Get me down!

I'm impressed one of his traps actually worked. Yeah, so proud of... Ah! Oh, okay. You drive. Here, I'll leave him a box of granola bars and a jug of water. I'm sure someone else will be by soon enough. I think I need to go to a hospital.

Cool. Let's stop and get some hurricanes on the way. Ooh, I'm gonna get a pink one. I thought they'd never leave. Now I can get back to work. I knew you'd be back. Bring it on, you ugly. You ugly mother! For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration,

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