Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep6: Episode 6: The One in the Creepy Woods

Episode Date: December 3, 2020

In tonight's episode, we delve into the darkest corners of the forest with three wonderful contemporary tales from Morrbanesh, Mr. Charms 505 and Mr. Evan 312. We begin with the horrors of 'In the woods' before moving on to ' The Adirondack Monster' and then rounding off with 'The Cabin with the Red Light.' All three of these phenomenal works have been kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/morrbanesh/ https://www.reddit.com/user/Mr_Charms_505 https://www.reddit.com/user/MrEvan312/

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First up, we have a tragic tale of loss called In the Woods by Morabanesh. This is followed up by the Adirondack Monster by Mr. Charms 505. And we round off this evening with a story by Mr. Evan 312 called The Cabin.312 called The Cabin. with the red light. Now as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and of horrific acts. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. Look Amanda, I said. The police stopping the search. They said they haven't found a trace, and it's been five days now. Amanda looked. Amanda looked. at me with such malice and hatred that I felt a chill running down my spine.

So, you just want to stop the search now? I mean, it's only our daughter. She's out there, frightened, and you just want to stop the search? I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. Tears were welling up, but I managed to reply. Don't even say that. Of course I want them to continue the search. But I'm not in charge of the police.

Please, honey. Don't see me as the enemy. I love you. I love Charlene. Don't speak her name. She yelled. You just see the search as an inconvenience to you. Just leave me be.

I did as she asked, going out of the bedroom and into the living room of our cabin. I sat down on the couch, hands on face, and cried over the loss of our daughter, and now my estranged wife. That night I decided to sleep on the couch. I heard Amanda sobbing throughout the night. Even though I wanted to comfort her, I felt she needed space. The next morning I awoke, tired and stiff from a bad spell of sleep. I decided to make some breakfast, eggs and bacon, and brought it up to her.

Here, darling, I made breakfast, I said. She looked at me with puffy red eyes. Is that all you can think of? when our daughter is somewhere out there, scared out of her life. I sighed. Look, it won't hurt any good if we stop our lives, stop taking care of ourselves. You need to eat.

She looked away, tears welling up. The day continued like that. Me trying to get any contact to Amanda and her turning down my attempts. It may be sadder each time, as I really wanted to connect with her again, needed to connect with her. After all, she was my wife, and I wanted to help her in her situation, as well as help myself. I couldn't go through all of this alone. And I was sure she couldn't either.

I had to make some sort of breakthrough. The day went on like that. Me trying to do anything to make a connection with Amanda and her, either ignoring me completely or getting aggressive towards me. Each time I failed, it felt we were gliding farther and farther from each other. Each time felt as if my heart was being stomped on. I felt worse and worse. As the day faded into evening, I decided to make dinner for us.

I helped Amanda down to the dining room and sat her in her chair. I sat down in my seat and started eating. A bit into the meal, I glanced over at her, checking how she was doing. She was poking her fork at the meal listlessly, her stare shifting from the meal to the window, then back to the meal and letting out a long, sad sigh. Pain me to see her like this. Not her normal, cheerful self, but then again, I was a total mess inside. But I felt I had to stay strong, for the both of us.

wouldn't do any good if we both just crumbled down and stopped functioning out here in the middle of the woods I was also hungry on top of all the sadness angry that the cops and park rangers decided that it would be too dangerous to continue the search there had been a massive rain about a week ago there'd been some flooding and the rangers had said that conditions were bad and therefore the search would be called off for now I shouted at them, pleaded with them, but to no avail. The ranger said that he understood me, but he couldn't risk the lives of the search party.

It made me angry that they could just wave off the life of a four-year-old like that. Such an inconvenience to search for her. And eventually I broke down in tears. Amanda looked at me and started crying too. The next day we were just sat in the dining room, looking at each other. then looking out the window or in silence. We both knew how each other felt. We also know we couldn't just go out and search on our own.

For starters, we didn't really know the woods. We could easily get lost in there if we went in too far. Secondly, we weren't equipped for a long stretch in the woods, and our clothing wasn't really helpful against the elements. We probably wouldn't survive long if we got lost. no need for that, no matter the circumstances. I tried several times to talk to her. Sometimes she acknowledges me, other times she just stared out the window,

or stared right at me, or right past me. She never really answered. Then again, it was hard to make small talk when this had happened, and I didn't know what to talk to her about. The incident was weighing heavily upon both of us. and again the day seemed to fade away like a dream you can't really remember

I was a bit surprised when I realized it had turned dark outside I stood up I was going to prepare dinner and then I thought I heard Charlene's voice coming from the woods Mommy

Daddy I'm scared followed by a short muffled scream that's the best I can describe it as Now I was starting to hear things I looked at Amanda and saw that her eyes were wide open as well as her mouth

Had she heard it too We looked at each other in stunned silence And then we heard it again Mommy Daddy I'm scared Followed by that muffled scream But there was something wrong I just couldn't put my finger on it

but there was something at the back of my mind warning me against this. Amanda shouted, Charlene! And leapt up. She didn't even put on shoes. She just ran outside. I tried to call her, to stop her, but she was gone in an instant.

I ran after her, hoping she would come to her senses. Amanda! I yelled. I saw where she'd run into the woods. darting past trees and stumps. I ran after her as fast as I could. She kept darting out of my sights, but I yelled at her. Amanda, please, stop.

As I ran into a small clearing, I could see Amanda there, looking in each direction. Honey, please, I said. We don't know where she is. It won't help her if we get lost in here. She looked at me with such fury that I thought for her. a second she hated me. Well, go back to the cabin, go back and just leave our daughter out here in the woods. You don't care about her. You don't even care about me. The force of those words, the angry tone and the hatred in her eyes. The words and our current situation were too much for me.

I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. I covered my face with my hands and cried of it. Don't even suggest that, honey. You two are my world, I said. As I removed my hands from my face, I realised Amanda was gone. Amanda, I screamed. Now I was getting a bit scared. Where had she gone? Amanda! I screamed again, more urgently. I heard some rustling of leaves to my right.

I didn't think. I just sprinted there. calling out to Amanda every few seconds. It was hard to navigate the woods in the dark. I called out to Amanda, then tried to listen to any sounds, either from Amanda or Charlene. After a few minutes, I heard something behind me. I'm scared.

But it wasn't Charlene's voice. It sounded like several voices at once. Cold, chill ran down my spine. What an earth. could that be? Then to my left, I heard Amanda's voice. Oh, honey, I've missed you so much. Come to Mommy.

Followed by a blood, curdling scream. Amanda! I yelled as I ran towards the sound. Branches flew by as I hurried towards where I'd heard Amanda screaming. What's going on in these woods? I thought as I ran. Suddenly, I tripped over something. something. I fell down hard, knocking my forehead. I saw stars as I lay on the ground, wondering

what had happened. Then, as my vision started to clear, I realized I'd tripped over a person, a person wearing what seemed to be Amanda's clothing, although it was ripped in places, and there was blood. There was so much blood. I screamed as I realized what I realized what what I was seeing. It was Amanda. Or what was left of her. Her torso had been cut open, from the neck down to her hip. Most of her innards were gone. And her face, oh God, her beautiful face. The eyes were gone. The mouth was open in a terrified scream. I hugged her, crying, screaming her name. The pain was unbearable.

Then I heard it, rustling of leaves behind me. And Amanda's voice saying, Oh honey, I've missed you so much. Come to Mommy. Think about your health for a second. Are your eyes the first thing that come to mind? Probably not. But our eyes go through a lot.

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Visit Spexsaver.orgia to learn more. We now move on to our second story this evening. The Adirondack Master by Mr. Chalms fire I've always loved the colours of fall. The reds, oranges and yellows, blended with the grey skies of October and November, are more beautiful than any picture man could paint. Every autumn, in my old stomping grounds of upstate New York, I would hike a trail in the Adirondack Mountains.

Sometimes I would make the hike in a day. Others, I would bring camping equipment so that I could walk at my leisure, and if it took two or three days I wouldn't mind. These hikes were a tradition I had begun when my father first took me hiking at age 10. And now, at age 27, I still had no thoughts about breaking that tradition for anything. That was why, on November 11th, two days before my birthday, I found myself on a trail that started at Elk Lake and went up Mount Marcy, the highest mountain in the Adirondacks.

A lot of people like my friendly personality, but find I'm a bit too quirky to try to be in a relationship with. So, well, I was hiking alone. It didn't bother me too much. I'd been hiking alone ever since my father died a decade ago, so I was used to being alone when the breathtaking scenery would reveal itself. Sometimes I wished I could share the view with someone, but beggars can't be choosers, right? I was happy enough to see what I saw when I saw it. The hike began ordinarily enough. I'd driven to Elk Lake and arrived at 7am without a hitch.

It was a Saturday morning, and the hike was going to be about 21 miles round trip, so I'd prepared supplies that allowed me to spend the night out in nature. It was a typical upstate November day. Gray skies, about 40 degrees Fahrenheit, windy and looking like it could start raining at any. second. A perfect day in my eyes. The trail starts on a slow, lazy incline up the side of the mountain, and I took my time taking each step so that I could enjoy the crisp air and the sounds of

nature. Since it was still early in the morning, a myriad of creatures without foraging what they could before the brutal winter came and completely removed the land of all growing food. I saw squirrels, rabbits. I even spotted a deer within the first half. hour. Even though I had a large pack on my back. The years of practice had taught me to be quiet, even while carrying a decent load, so as to not scare away the wildlife that were just trying to live their lives in their natural homes. Soon, the gentle slope gained a bit more of an incline, and I turned my attention away from sightseeing to do some serious hiking. The cold air felt amazing as I breathed it into my lungs, and I felt like I had all the energy in the

as I ascended up the trail, a smile never leaving my face. All the years of hiking, and never once it had ever gotten old for me, I still felt the sheer wonder of immersion in nature that I felt on that first trip that my father had taken me on. Before I knew it, my wrist watched red noon, and it was time to stop for some lunch. I stopped next to a fallen log that conveniently rested beside the trail, and made a little temporary campsites. As I got the fire started and retrieved some food from my pack, I marvelled at the calming isolation I was currently experiencing. During the summer months, these trails are packed with tourists. But now, in the early days of November, the woods were practically deserted.

There were only a few crazed outdoor people, like myself, who would trek these paths during the fall. And I was perfectly fine with that. I was in the middle of my meal when it struck me. there were no sounds around me at all. It wasn't just the silence of animals when a predator or a human is around. No. No wind stirred. No leaves moved. The only sounds I could hear was the crackling of the fire,

the crunch of the food in my mouth, and the faint beat of my heart. I have been subjected to silence in nature before, but never had I experienced an absolute quiet, like that. It unnerved me and I ate the rest of my lunch with haste so that I could leave that spot as fast as possible. My mood improved when I was back on my feet and in no time I heard the typical sounds of the forest again as I trekked up the path. I decided I was covering good ground at great speed so I slowed my ascent so I could concentrate on the wilderness around me.

I didn't spot any more animals but the mixing of the colours of the fallen leaves and listening to the multitude of bird songs that filled the air was enough for me. I sort of went into a trance, extending my senses out and not really being aware of my body, just feeling like I was one with nature. I'd been in this moving meditation for about 20 minutes when a thought sprung up, interrupting my stupor and brought me back completely. I've been listening to my echoing steps, stirring up the, the fallen leaves that littered the ground for a while, when I realised the path I was walking upon didn't have piles of fallen leaves on it. Even if it did, the sound of their crunching shouldn't

be echoing. No. Something else was walking in the forest nearby, trying to match my stride purposefully. I stopped immediately and began to look around. The sound of leaves crunching stopped too. And though I strained to see around me, I spotted nothing but trees and shrubs. The sky was still cloudy and grey, but there was enough light that I could see clearly, yet there was nothing there. I was positive that I'd heard footfalls not too far off, and yet not being able to see what made those steps caused their hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I'm not stupid, and I've seen plenty of horror movies before. This whole situation

was eerie and unnatural. Deciding to be safe rather than sorry, I quickly opened my pack and retrieved my soft air pistol. If you've never heard of airsoft, it's a game plate, kind of like paintball, except the little plastic

BBs are fired rather than balls full of paint. Another main difference is that airsoft guns look almost exactly like real guns. I had an airsoft pistol that looked exactly like a 45 handgun, and I'd even broken off the orange tip that all soft air guns were required to have to prove it's fake. Holding my fake gun in my hand, I started walking again. I kept my ears strained for sound of piles of leaves being disturbed, yet I heard nothing

start up with me. I kept my guard up for another hour, before deciding that if there had been something off in the woods, it was probably just an animal. was as scared of me as I was of it, laughing to myself about my own paranoia, I put my fake pistol back into my back and went back to concentrating on my hike. The rest of my journey for that day was uneventful. When it started to get dark around 5.30, I decided to make camp for the night. I'd done much better than I expected, and had already reached the summit and was on my way back down. I went off the trail by about 50 feet into a small clearing. and set up my tent and built a fire.

I sat on the ground by the fire, thoroughly exhausted yet satisfied by today's hike, and just watch the flames leap, listening to the wood of the fire crackle and pop while it burned. The gloom of the New York afternoon soon became the darkness of dusk, and after feeding some more branches to the flames, I started to cook the rest of my rations for the day. Oh, a chill, more so than had been during the day, was in the air, forcing me to crawl into my tent where my pack resided to fetch a spare sweater.

After donning the extra layer and putting my jacket back on, a familiar thought crept back into my head. The forest was too quiet again. I was about to dismiss the notion when a rustling outside caught my ears. Something was kicking up leaves again in a slow manner, very close to my tent. Whenever it was, I could tell that it was big. I was worried a bear might be nosing around my camp, drawn by the smell of my cooked food. But I'd never heard of bears being active around here. It was a too often used trail filled with the smell of humans.

Deafly and softly. I lifted my tent flap just a tad to peer outside and see if I could spot my camp. campsites unwelcome visitor. Yes, as I thought, the dimness of dusk made visibility outside of the light with the fire almost impossible. My hand was forced, and I went to my pack to retrieve my strap-on headlamp and my real weapon of defence, my flare gun. I'd never been a fan of real firearms, and the flare gun was the closest thing to a real gun that I would ever own. It basically is a real gun. As a well-placed flare-shot, can kill a man, if need be, and the noise and light it produces can scare off would-be animal attackers. Attaching the strap on light to my head, and having the flare gun at ready, I left my tent slowly,

so as to not start all the creature, whatever it was, and have it attack out of fear. I gaze around, with a measured look, my bright lamp illuminating about 20 feet outside of the camp, before the darkness swallowed up the light. I'd gotten to about a full circle around my camp When a slight crinkling sound behind me Made my head whip around on instinct I saw something disappear into the night Stirring up leaves as it fled from the camp

It was a leg A long, beastly leg covered in brown, shaggy fur It didn't have the shape of the traditional back legs That animals that walk on all fours have it seemed to have been a leg that a bipedal animal would be walking on. This leg, however, was far larger and thicker than any monkey or ape I'd ever seen, and the foot gave the feeling of not truly belonging to the leg. It should have been attached to something with feathers,

for the foot had three toes in front and one in the back, almost exactly like an owl's foot. Just like an owl's foot too. each toe had a long talon that flashed in the light of my headlamp those claws must have been a foot long apiece I stood in stunned silence

for a few moments my mind trying to warp around what I had just seen I decided to turn off my headlamp to save battery life and sat by the fire continuing to cook my food I didn't know what else to do at that point

with the combination of the darkness of night and the build-up of my paranoia, I could maybe have imagined the leg. If the leg was real, well, what were my options? To try and call park rangers and convince them that there was a monster up here with me, and if I did convince them, what were the chances they'd make it up to me in time?

I decided I was being silly with my talk of monsters. Okay, maybe I did see a leg of some creature that was curious about the light. and the smells coming from my camp, but, well, with the nighttime cover and my anxiety at work, I could very easily get the details about the leg wrong. I did see it only for a moment, and, well, the human brain is amazing at playing tricks on itself. I was safe. The animal had run away from me, and all I had to do was convince my brain of that. The hot dogs I'd speared on a few sticks were based on.

done, so I turned my attention to them. It's amazing how much being afraid can mask your sense of hunger, and I realized that I was starving. I quickly polished off the crispy hot dogs and put the rest of the pack on the sticks and set them cooking, with the blackness of the night deepening. I decided to stave off the loneliness of the night with some music. I made a quick visit inside my tent to retrieve my late-grandfather's harmonica, and returned to my spot by the fire. I was in the middle of my first tune, take me home country roads, when I spotted something that made me stop and stare. Two of my hot dogs were missing. What's more is that the sticks that they'd been speared on were broken. Examining the broken edges, it appeared that something

had bitten off the areas for the hot dogs rather than just take the hot dogs off the stick. The bitten off stick edges looked sharpened. whatever bit the ends off had teeth that could shear through wood like butter. It was then, and I realized the dead silence had returned, and not even the wind stirred in any of the branches of the trees surrounding my camp. Due to this silence, I heard a tiny flop a few feet to my right. I decided to look with my eyes, but keep my head facing forward, as if I was still examining the sticks. I saw nothing, but distinctly heard the plop again. I suddenly turn my head very slightly to the right, so I could get a better view. A few feet to my right was a tall pine tree,

thick with its needles. Underneath it was a pile of needles that had fallen to the forest floor. By now they'd all turned yellow with age. Again, there was a plop, like rain was starting to fall, but the air didn't have the smell of ozone and it gets before a rainfall and I didn't feel any drops on myself and the sound wasn't coming from anywhere but to my right then I saw it

a big slimy droplet of a clear substance dropped from somewhere up in the tree onto the bed of pine needles my first thought was that it was sap but it wasn't thick enough to be sap and if the tree was leaking sap the flow would be most likely coming from the trunk

not the branches then I realized with horror what it was drool something was up in that tree and it was large enough that I could see the globs of saliva that was falling from its mouth I turned on my headlamp

and scanned up the tree slowly it was a thick pine tree a very good hiding spot. I couldn't see anything through the combination of thick, dark green needles and the night surrounding them. I couldn't see anything, that is, until my light shone across the eyes. Two large, terrible eyes that reflected light,

like cat or dog eyes when you shine lighting them. They were about 20 feet above the ground, poking out from a thick bundle of needles, and staring directly at me. There was a hunger in those eyes, and the drool falling to the ground confirmed my suspicion. We stared at one another for a few moments. Then the eyes disappeared,

and I heard crashing sounds and branches moaning under the pressure of newly added weight. The thing was jumping from tree to tree away from me, not caring about stealth at all. I don't know why it was fleeing from me. Perhaps it was scared of the light, or maybe it simply wanted to catch me off guard, and since its plan was foiled, it was retreating to try and sneak up on me again. To this day, I don't know what it was thinking, and, well, I don't want to dwell on it either.

Staring off at where it had happened, or at least where I think it disappeared, I realized I had an important decision to make. I could stay here at the camp, keep the fire going, I hope it didn't attack and try to make it back to my car by daylight exhaust it from not sleeping or I could take some essentials abandon the camp and try to make it to the car tonight

while I still had energy I decided on the latter as I needed to get out of these mountains ASAP and I believe that I would be quicker and more alert now instead of a few hours from now with stressed out nerves and no sleep

as quickly as possible I went back into my tent and grabbed my pack. Exiting, I judged how much light my headlamp would produce and was satisfied with the result. Yet, I still felt like I wanted some more protection. Rooting through my large backpack, I grabbed a spare shirt I'd packed and ripped it to shreds. Finding a decent-sized branch, I tied the cloth pieces to it, then used some of my spare lighter fluid that I had to help start fires with, and doused the pieces.

creating a makeshift torch. Lighting it and making sure the fire was staying where I wanted it to be, I left my things where they lay and began the trek through the darkness back to my car with a torch in one hand and my flare gun in the other. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out.

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2,600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. My dissent was the stuff of nightmares. The silence that brought me unease during the day was actually comforting now. While any noise I heard sent my heart racing and tensed up. muscle in my body. Though I now had two sources of light, they didn't extend through the twilight very much, and outside of the path and the trees that lined the side of the path, I was blind to all else that moved through the night. My survival depended on movement,

which I consciously knew, and no matter what I heard, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. things came to her head when I was about halfway done with my death march coming around a bend in the path my headlamp picked up a huge pile of leaves by the side of the trail and when I say huge I mean it for the pile was a tad bit taller than I was and I'm a solid six foot one I hadn't seen it when I'd been ascending during the day and I knew that there was no possible way the wind had blown somehow these leaves together the during the night, for I'd barely felt or heard any wind at all since the sun had gone down. Couldn't hear very well due to the torch's open flame being so near. And I had no desire to go near that pile of leaves, even to investigate to determine whether that's what it was or not. I made the rash decision to shoot the pile of leaves with my flare gun. Looking back, I realized that I could have started a forest fire, but I didn't care about that at the time.

I wanted to live And if I was to be labelled an arsonist And spend some time in jail So be it At least I'd be alive to serve my time The flare gun emitted a loud crack As the flare shot into the pile of leaves Light and heat flooded into the pile

And an ear-piercing scream of pain And anger shattered the stillness of the night A large brown, shaggy furred monstrosity Burst from the pile onto the path shrieking and batting at the flare stuck in its chest. This was when I confirmed this creature was nothing like anything I had ever seen or heard from before. It must have been at least seven feet tall. The beast was coated from head to toe in fur, all of it thick and curly like an English sheepdog.

It had long, thick arms that ended in very human-like hands. Each finger as thick as an average man's forearm. I saw that the leg I'd seen before was indeed the leg of this creature. The large talons were dug into the earth, and it was tensed in pain from the heat and fire of the flare. The head was very large, as the eyes of the monster were huge, filled with pain and fear,

but also rage and understanding. The mouth that was constantly open as it roared over and over in frustration, and the flare embedded in it, was filled to the brim with razor-sharp teeth, each tooth as long and serrated as a steak-knife. It was then my instinct took full control, and I sprinted past the monstrosity as fast as my legs could move, dropping my makeshift torch in the heat of the moment.

As I passed the creature, I felt something slam into my backpack, pushing me forward suddenly and making me stumble as I sprinted. Time seemed to slow. as my feet kept going forward at awkward angles, and my balance shifted, almost making me faceplant straight into the dirt path. Something out there has me in graces, though, for I managed to keep my balance and continue sprinting down the path. When it comes to running, I'm a marathon runner, not a sprinter, and yet, with adrenaline fueling my muscles and mind, I ran faster than I'd ever run before in my life. and I kept up the pace for a long time.

I must have been sprinting at top speed for ten minutes without stopping, and when my muscles finally couldn't take it anymore, and my lungs needed to rest, I let myself collapse on the side of the path into a briar patch. I was panting and wheezing loudly, my lungs and body deprived of oxygen from the marathon sprinting I'd just done. I didn't care about the scratches that now littered my face and arms, I needed to rest, and the briar-patch gave me some cover, at least.

It turns out that decision saved my life. Not a minute passed after my collapse that I heard a sound of something coming down the path. I could hear the air moving, as something large came charging down the path, and yet I heard no footfalls. Fear made me stop breathing, though my body still needed it, and after I switched off my headlamp, I covered my mouth. and my hands to cover any escaping gas my body might take. As the beast passed, I heard very faint grunting and snarling,

as the wind generated by the creature caressed over me, carrying with it a foul smell of wet fur, feces and blood. And then it was gone, down the path in its pursuit of me, to surely tear me limb from limb. I stayed quiet and motionless for a long time In the dark of the night and under the cover of the briar patch I couldn't tell if minutes or hours had passed And I didn't care

Going from second to second Where I was alive and still breathing Was all that I cared about in the moment Eventually the sounds of a typical night surrounded me And when my limbs and lungs no longer felt like they were on fire I cautiously crawled out of my safe haven and flipped my headlight back on. I sneaked along the side of the trail for the rest of my descent.

Early on, I almost shat myself when a bush rustled off to the side of me. Turning, my light caught a rabbit sprinting from the bushes into the blackness of the forest. While I breathed a sigh of relief, I realized my headlamp was too much of a target, and, begrudgingly, I turned it off. traversing the rest of the path in darkness with only faint moonlight to keep me on the trail.

Time dragged on as slowly as my every inching step. Every footstep I took was too loud for my liking, though I knew they were as quiet as I could make them. Every slight silhouette of a shadowy outline against an even blacker backdrop convinced my heart the creature was there and my time on this earth was up. Every rustle was the creature getting ready to pounce Every small gust of wind was its breath on me As it towered above my crouch form And yet, through this horrid experience A quote from Winston Churchill kept replaying in my mind

If you're going through hell Keep going So, with tears in my eyes and teeth gritted hard I continually put one foot in front of the other. Hours passed, but eventually I stumbled upon the beginning of the trail, where it connected to a clearing in the parking lot. I was so very close to salvation.

I forced myself not to be cocky, however, as throwing caution to the wind could be the death of me. I had no idea where the monster was, and that was the most dangerous part of this situation. I knew I was the only car in the parking lot, and I'd part close to the trail entrance, but my hiking books would make loud noises on the cement. I needed to get to my car as quietly as I'd traversed down the trail. I silently put my flare gun, which I'd held with a death grip this entire time, back into my backpack, and grab my car keys from the pocket.

My flannel-lined jeans were thick enough That they had stopped them from jingling this entire time Thank God for small miracles, right I got down onto my belly And began to army crawl my way across the ground to my car Took some time As they make army crawling look much easier on TV And in the movies than it really is

Plus I had my backpack on me And I had to make sure it didn't fall off my back And clatter to the ground or worse, the parking lot's cement. I made it to my car, however, and Hope finally started to kindle within me. I pushed the button to unlock the doors, and being able to clearly hear the car's doors, locks unlocking, made me realize something.

The night had become silent as the grave again. Adrenaline course threw me once more, and in almost one fluid motion, I opened the driver door, threw my pack into the passenger seat, and got into the car. With one hand, I slammed my door shut, and the other hand jammed the keys into the ignition and violently turned. My car roared to life, and as soon as I turned the lights on to sea, I threw the car into drive and gunned it to the exit of the parking lot, not even taking the time to buckle my seatbelt. As I was flooring it towards the parking lot exit, something big slammed into the back,

side of my car, causing me to almost lose control. I managed to correctly counter-turn the steering wheel and got my car under control again. Risking a glance out of my rear-view mirror, I saw the creature in the red light of my taillights, staring at me while I left. Even through the gloom of the early morning and limited vision of my rear-view mirror, I could see the hatred and rage that shone in its eyes as it watched me escape. This was confirmed as the creature vanished from the limited light my taillights produced, and I heard a high-pitched, infernal, keening wail of a hunter who has just seen their prey escape. Things are somewhat blurry after that.

I know I drove straight home, down to Albany, and locked all my doors and windows and cowered in the bathroom till the sun rose. I know I went outside to retrieve my backpack and saw the whole left back side of my car crushed in like it had been hit by a truck it was a wonder the wheel wasn't damaged at all I know I called the New York State Forest Rangers and told them about my encounter

my initial relief from their willingness to look into the matter turned to a spine-tilling chill when the veteran ranger talking to me ended the call with you probably should never go back there. You have pissed it off, and it has your scent. I've never seen anyone walk out of those mountains twice when it has their scent. Life has gone somewhat back to normal.

I'm in the safe bastion of a city, and nothing spooky or abnormal has occurred around me. After a year of gathering my thoughts and rationalizing that night, convincing myself it was bear or some other animal, I thought I was ready to go back to the Adirondacks. Breathe in some of that sweet mountain air, my mind and body were craving. That idea was quelled when a co-worker of mine borrowed my backpack to go camping with some friends in the mountains. After a night full of queer noises and eldrish cries, his friends found him in pieces. Most of them skewered onto tree branches. and my backpack so shredded you couldn't tell it was a backpack to begin with.

I don't think I'll ever step foot into those mountains again. Our final story this evening is the cabin with the red light by Mr. Evan 312. Her luck had officially run out when she felt her leg connect with a tall root arching out of the ground at shin height. Without so much as a second to curse, the young woman toppled to the ground in a heap scraping along the dirt and leaves before coming to a stop in a moaning, defeated, miserable pile. Her fair skin was smudged with dirt. Her long, open hair was tangled in a mess of pine needles, twigs and burrs. Her simple, light blue dress was all but unrecognizable from all the brambles and scrapes she had endured in her flight.

She knew these woods like the back of her hand, and even in the dark she'd know her way around if she were blind. but tonight she had gone too far and even with the light of the full moon to guide her as she laid on the forest floor nursing her bruise leg she had to admit defeat she was utterly lost the girl had known this time would come while she also knew that escape was certainly hopeless it was better than meeting her fate in the isolated ranch house deep in the forest that had become her prison ever since she married that man. That man. So seemingly suave and handsome in his city ways, his nice clothes, a man who could speak with a feather-soff voice one moment and bite into her soul the next. Just like the way his leather belt bit into her flesh. Three years she surrendered

to his abuses, his tirades, his endless controlling of her. There were no friends to see the bruises, no family to see her tears, just her and that monster who made this poor young woman the soul focus of all the darkness in his blackened soul. But no man, no matter how evil, brilliant or forceful, can go forever without making a mistake. That night, he'd had too much to drink. The fire water had made him clumsy and careless. She managed to trip him, stunning him when his head hit the wall, and to her joy the door had not been padlocked. With no hesitation, and just the clothes on her back, she bolted into the night, his furious roars fading into the distance as she ran into the darkness.

She felt no small amount of relief when she found that, while painful, her leg was not broken, and she could put her weight on it. It was swiftly bleeding, however, and she'd have to get it seen to when she found a town. If I find a town, she thought to herself. That would only come by sheer luck, for she had no clue where she was. Never in the past half of a decade has she ever gotten so far away from the house. And even if she had, the night masked everything in such a way that not only made her loose her way, but made her feel small. It was all she could do not to curl up in a ball and cry.

Ain't no time for that, the woman sternly told herself, speaking aloud for the first time in a while, no longer afraid of her back hand. You're a big girl. Big girls don't cry. Big girls keep chugging along. Dusting off her blouse as best she could, so she did.

albeit painfully, as her shin had begun to swell. The footfalls became heavy, as her endless sprint through the forest had taken a toll on her energy. And just as she finally crested a small hill, hoping to get her bearings, she felt that her legs would give out altogether. And then she saw it. A head, in a little clearing of brush and tall grass,

lined with tree stumps, was a log cabin. It looked to be little more than a big shed, and was roughly built, but looked solid. There was a single window by the sturdy-looking front door that pulsed with a dim but distinctive red light. I must be dreaming, the young woman said out loud to herself. It shouldn't be nobody for miles.

Then, as she blinked to clear her vision, as if something in her eye could be, playing tricks on her. She saw a shadow move past the window. Someone was home. Something must have come over her, for, exhausted as she was, the woman began to stumble towards the little house, tears running down her face and stuttering incoherently as loud as she could. Reaching the door, she fell against the indeed solid planks and iron hinges, hounding with her fist with all her waning straight. Somebody in there? Please help me. Please. Somebody, anybody. The door flew open without so much as a squeak of a rusty hinge, startling the girl into

losing her balance. Falling forward, she landed on her rear and stared up at the resident of the cabin who silently considered her from his place upon the threshold. The red light was dimmer than she thought. So most of what she could make out was his silhouette. He was not a big man. In fact, he had narrow shoulders, a slim build and was not much taller than she was. His cheeks looked hollow, with a hint of stubble. The bones of his face, what little she could see, were angular and sharp, as if the skin of his face were drawn tight over his skull. His hair was short and unkempt, and he wore a loose-fitting shirt and pants. Yet, despite all this, the eerie light gave the man an off-putting feeling. There was no doubt in her mind that this

was a strange man. One of his eyes was visible in the light, watery, but with a flinty, cold stare that almost sent a shiver running up this girl's spy. He looked her dead in the face with an almost dead expression. What are you doing out here, this time of night, girl? His voice was coarse, very low and gravely. The voice of a man who smoked a lot and always kept his voice to a whisper. His tone was so passive,

the girl could not tell if he was angry or concerned. Please, she whimpered, still sitting on the ground. He'll kill me if he catches me. I don't know where I am. He didn't move from where he stood in the door, nor did his eyes break contact with hers. Run along, girl, you're better off for me not helping you. With that, he made to shut the door, turning away from her. Wait!

She tried to stand up, but winced in pain, and instead sat up straighter, reaching as far forward as she could. The man stopped and turned to. to her again, this time eyeing her up and down. His eye finally drifted to her leg, which was visible in the dim glow, and he saw her wound. He looked back at her face, then to her leg, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw the look in his eye soften a little. Letting out a sigh, the man swung open the door again, standing aside to let her through. Best get inside there. Can't have you limping around the woods all scraped up like that, can we? The girl could not get inside the house quick enough.

Standing up successfully this time, she hobbled into the home and plopped down to a roughly built stool the man had provided for her. Now inside, she got a better idea of the cabin's layout. It was sparsely furnished, and all with what looked to be handmade furniture. There were two stools. some crates, a small stove, a table, a pile of wood, and a bed in the farthest corner from the door.

On a small box next to the bed was a lamp, its glass case coated in some kind of red paint that tinted the light it gave off. The man shut the door behind her, but he did not bolt it, and he turned to face her, now with a light fully upon him. He was indeed not a big man. He was very thin, and his face was the most haunting that she had ever seen. His eyes were sunken. Iris is so blue that they almost look white, and he looked like he'd not shaved in a week. Dark bags hung hungers his eyes,

and his unkempt hair only added to the image of a very bedraggled creature. He looked like he should have been in his late thirties, no older than the girl, but the air about him made him seem incredibly unkempt. old, weary and spent like a dying old mule. He advanced within a short range of her and knelt to examine her wound. He brought his face close to it and sniffed it a couple of times, and she felt his hands clench a little tighter for a moment before loosening their grip.

She was surprised at this, but he seemed to pay her no mind. He poured some warm water from a kettle on the stove over the wound and began to dabber it with a handkerchief he withdrew from his breast pockets. The water felt soothing, and his hands, while knobbly with spindly fingers, were very gentle. As he worked, without looking her in the face, he spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours that she had been sitting there. You didn't answer me, girl. She snapped back to reality, having nearly dozed off.

The night's events had taken their toll. on her. Beg pardon? Was a girl doing that in the woods on a night like this, with a hurt leg, no less. She wasn't sure whether or not to trust the man with the truth just yet. Something about all this left an uneasy feeling in her belly. I got lost, hit my leg on a root or something, while running around like a fool.

This was, of course, true, but not the entire truth. she could not know if this man knew her husband after all indeed he muttered that don't answer why though don't it he looked up at her face from where he knelt by a leg and that passive chilling look could come over him again something in his eyes was compelling hard to resist like a steam train bearing down the iron tracks

forcing herself to look away, she continued. My man, you see, he's a right heartless bastard. Beats me like a dog some days. It says awful things to me. He chokes me half to death. Marion Him was the stupidest thing I ever did. I finally escaped tonight. And here I am.

His face did not change. But his head tilted slightly to the aside as he considered her story. That's so. The man did not sound disbelieving, nor did he sound surprised. He almost sounded disinterested, distracted like a busy parent trying to humour an excited child.

He tied the handkerchief around her leg, not too tightly, and stood up. His stance was slightly stooped, in a way that made him look incredibly tired, and yet as he stood over her, she felt dwarfed by him. Well, it'd be a shame if he caught you out there. Sounds like you're quite the lucky little lady. With that, he turned and went over to the stove,

casting a shadow over the girl. Her eye glanced over to the door. Next to the doorframe, there was a large wood axe leaning against the wall. You wouldn't know my man, would you? She asked tentatively. A raspy, almost wheezy chuckle came from the man's throat. No, girl, I wouldn't. Matter of fact, I came to these woods to be alone.

Why'd you want to be alone? However, it was not his isolation that worried her, but rather her own. At that moment She had never felt so far from salvation Because I ain't like most people He still was not facing her But something about his tone of voice was unsettling

There was almost a touch of excitement to his words That grew as he spoke Perhaps the loneliness had gotten to the poor man See ever since I was a boy something happens to me on nights like these something awful

the man began to turn and her blood turned to ice in her veins when she saw the look in his eyes ice that seemed to have lost all pupils and were turning into a milky white his mouth was beginning to twist into an evil smile as he slowly rotated to face her

and when it happens I get this urge see he took a step towards her causing the girl to squirm instinctively in her seat

the grin stretched across the man's face was inhuman and his neck began to twitch she could have sworn that suddenly he'd grown in stature

right in front of her his fire wearing my belly. It starts to burn me up from the inside out. I feel like I'm dying. I've got to get what I need. And you know what I need, girl. He began to move closer and in her panic. The young woman fell off a stool and began to back into the corner of the cabin. Even the screams she so desperately wanted to release were frozen in her throat. You ever been so hungry, you feel like you got live coals in your belly? Like you got boiling water in your veins, like molten iron in your skull. The man moves slowly but inexorably, pinning her in the corner with no escape.

He'll never been that hungry but me. God, it hurts. His voice climbed in volume and pitch, the excitement of fervour in his voice, building so high it threatened to burst the top off the house. I told you, girl, you'd have been better off last in the woods. But don't worry.

At least it won't hurt you as much as it hurts me. He raised both hands towards her face. only inches from grabbing her with those long fingers of his. Her eyes flicked futilely to the door, and the breath hitched in her throat. The door was open, having swung open noiselessly, and the axe was gone. There was a sickening crack like the sound of a breaking tree branch,

and, for a moment, the strange man's eyes returned to normal, as a look of shock came across his face. He groaned once and clasped to the floor, dead as a dawnet. The axe, its handle still quivering, was buried deep in the middle of his back. The blow had fallen dead centre on his spine.

The momentary warmth of relief froze as cold as ice when she looked up, and dread robbed her of any words of thanks when she saw the face of her saviour. Her husband stood there, panting and furious. His eyes were still bloodshot from the drink and the sheen of sweat glistened on his face. He'd always been a burly man, a naturally strong specimen, vital and overpowering like the whiskey he guzzled almost every night.

Compared to the stranger, who he had just killed with their own axe, he seemed like a giant. Fuming, he grabbed her by the collar of her dress and yanked the girl to her feet. Nice try, you silly little bitch. Gave your man an awful scare. Something could have happened to you. His tone was mocking

without a tinge of concern to be heard. You know what this means when we get back home. She struggled as best she could, clawing against his grip and trying to squirm out of his grasp. But even drunk, his hands were like iron clamps. She may as well have been trying to wriggle out of the stocks. She kicked at his shins, distinctively hitting bone with her shoe and earning her a pained grunt.

He released one of his hands and delivered a back hand to her face that blasted stars across her vision, knocking her to the floor all the way to the other end. of the room. She tried to sit up and shield her eyes, but the room seemed to swim. He towered over her like a tree. She might as well have been resisting a mountain. In her despair, the girl could have sworn she saw something move in the corner behind her husband. He leaned down to grab her again, and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for the pain of another attack. You know, what's worse than feeling hungry?

Said a raspy voice. She opened her eyes again, and the husband froze in place. The stranger's hand twitched, then clenched, placing its palm on the floor and pushing upwards with the sound of splintering bone. He hushed his back and got to his feet, the axe falling out of his spine with a squelch. The eyes were now almost glowingly white And a scowl covered the man's face Revealing a set of sharp teeth In the red light

The girl must have misjudged the man's height Now he stood a head taller than her husband His limbs seemed longer than she remembered His arms and legs And now small body made him look like a huge Crooked bipedal spider making me angry before the girl's vile spouse could react the stranger grabbed him by the neck with both hands lifting the spluttering choking abuser as if he were made of straw those limbs spindly and thin as they

were must have been hopelessly strong he struggled against the stranger's grasp like a fish on a hook The life rapidly being choked out of him as he kicked against thin air. As the husband squirmed and rived with what strength he had left, the creature looked down at the girl whose head had now cleared and only sat on the floor watching in sheer terror, the shock having robbed her of words or flight. The scowl turned into a small smile as he regarded her. The best be running along, girl.

It looked back at her husband, whose eyes were bulging in their sockets as his windpipe was being crushed, and a distinct, crunching noise could be heard as those long fingers drew even tighter. For I finish, a main cause, releasing his grip with one hand. The creature brought back his arm and brought back his arm, and brought him. plunged his open free hand into the husband's chest, with a sound like a hammer hitting a watermelon, crushing bone and sloshing past flesh and muscle as he felt around the man's ribcage. The husband gave one last twitch, and then hung limp, his wet laundry left out to dry, as the girl got up and made to leave. Just before she left that cabin for good, she saw the creature

retract its arm and withdraw with it, her husband's steaming, sopping, wet heart. As she sprinted away in the night, never to see her husband or that strange man, that creature, ever again. In that moment of shock, a fit of laughter came over her. The woman struggled to breathe as she ran and ran, over hills, through the trees, around boulders, but almost the whole way she laughed and laughed. As the forest gave way to Flatlands, and the forest floor gave way to a dirt road, she saw the lights of civilization on the horizon.

It was then that she stopped, and wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and chortled to herself. Well, I guess the bastard had a heart after all. Thank you for joining me in Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Tonight we were treated to three fine stories by Morbanesh, Mr. Chalmers 505 and Mr. Evan 312. That's all for this time, but I do hope you'll join me again very soon. Until then, sweet dreams and bye-bye.