Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S4 Ep181: Episode 181: Nightmare Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 22, 2024

If you want to take ownership of your health, try AG1 and get a FREE 1-year supply of Vitamin D AND 5 Free AG1 Travel Packs with your first purchase.  Go to www.drinkAG1.com/creepen Today’s first offering is ‘The Hollows and the Hills’, an original story by Chili 1220, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/Chili1220  Today’s second story is ‘Into the Maw’, an original work by Names James 0933, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all [This story was originally titled: ‘Nightmare’].  https://www.reddit.com/user/NamesJames0933

Build a more secure, resilient self and strengthen your relationships. For 15 years, mental health professionals at the Center for Interpersonal Relationships have offered psychological treatment and assessment services to help you, your couple, your adolescent, and your family. Psychotherapy starts at $75 per session. You don't have to live with depression, anxiety, or difficulties in your relationships. We offer some of English and in French. Book an initial session online or in person in Toronto at 790 Bay Street. Visit cfir.com.

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Many things can scare us, depending on our personal fears and experiences. Common fears include darkness, heights, or spiders because they can just make us feel unsafe. The unknown, like strange noises at night, can also be scary because we don't know what's causing them. Oro stories and movies often play on these fears, using suspense, creepy settings, or sudden surprises to make us feel scared. Sometimes the fear of failure or losing someone we love can also be very frightening. We shall see in tonight's two tales of horror. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution.

Tonight's stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. I'm often asked how it was that I first became interested in the true crime genre. It's a sort of question I frequently get at conventions, book signings, panel meetings and interviews, but the actual answer is fairly mundane. What I find more interesting is the source of that question. Why people expect a compelling answer? I suppose we're used to the idea we get from movies and television, where characters can often label one thing, one singular event that acts as the catalyst of their entire fictional lives. In reality, the truth is much simpler.

Some things just have a natural appeal to you. I couldn't say exactly why I first found the true crime genre so compelling, or why I made it my life's work for over two decades. However, I can say that what I find so appealing about the genre is what it has to say about the state of humanity in general, and how it edifies us about the curious blind spots of society and human behavior. In my youth, I was satisfied with only the macabre details of crime, hardly ever ruminating on the nature of the human beings involved in these

gruesome dramas, and it wasn't until my twenties that I fully grasp the social dimension of it all. The fair amount of my fascination with the genre actually stemmed from a frustration with fictional crime, the kind you see in movies and on TV. I grew up in the 70s and 80s, watching reruns of shows like Colombo and Hawaii 50s, police procedurals and cop dramas with all starcasts and hard. concept visions of modern crime. After the thousandth time watching the drama of a murderous knitting society or professional rivalry gone wrong, I got frustrated with the idea that crime

could be so banal and yet so over the top in its origin. By contrast, true crime, while seemingly less interesting in its setup or execution, really highlights the remote regions of the social fabric that TV shows or movies rarely seem to acknowledge. But what I've find most compelling is how a violent and heinous crime can stand in such stark contrast to a mundane, commonly accepted reality. When I think of what human beings are capable of, I think of cases where a man murders his wife, yet is so convincing in their acts of innocence and grief that even the victim's family can maintain their innocence for years. It's hard to imagine that such individuals could possibly lead outwardly normal lives, never betraying their true character,

while others of their ilk can so easily engage in barbarous crimes out in the open. Perhaps there is something to be said about what our society really values and how our expectations can be so easily subverted. It was in my early twenties that I began pursuing the subject with great zeal, though, admittedly, at that point my interest had yet to mature beyond the level of decidedly juvenile fascination. I spent my college years and some years after, roaming the board. backwards of Pennsylvania, my home state, and Western New York, playing the amateur detective,

never concerned with money or adult responsibilities, courtesy of my sizable trust fund. Yes, I was a rich kid, and during those golden years, the object of money was never a barrier to my hobbies. I grew up in Mount Lebanon, an affluent suburb south of the Pittsburgh metro area, and my family was decidedly affluent, even by those lofty standards. My youth was one of private schools and country clubs and other trappings of the wealthy. But I like to think that I was reasonably down to work, as far as that background is concerned. I would travel all over the state, pursuing unsolved cases in the rural heartlands, eating at diners, drinking in dive bars, and sleeping in motels,

as if seeing how the other half lives was like a grand adventure. I would set myself up as a friendly nuisance. in these towns, and pretend that I wasn't just another rich kids slumming it with a local colour, all the while doing the junior detective bit with a great interest, but no great skill. With my crew of friends from college, we had an absolute blast travelling all over the state, pursuing these gruesome mysteries, sometimes joking that we were like an har-rated version of the gang from Scooby-Doo. It seems kind of stupid when I think about it now, notwithstanding the tremendous fun we had doing it.

I learned later that investigating crimes, particularly violent and heinous crimes like murder or kidnapping, can be a very dangerous business if you aren't prepared and don't fully respect the subject matter. After all, one can't be too surprised if a known murderer might react in a homicidal fashion if they feel they might be cornered, especially if their pursuer is a civilian.

In those early years I was blissfully ignorant of such hazards, never really taking any of that seriously. This was a lesson that I was destined to learn the hard way. But however much of that experience terrifies me to this day, I'm almost glad it happened. In a way, it was how my appreciation of the true crime genre genuinely matured, and how I learned to show the respect that the subject demands. At that point, I'd never been truly passionate about it, however much I cherished it as a hobby before them. I have lived my life believing that there is a distinct difference between simply having a passion versus being truly passionate about something, and the real difference is that sense of respect.

I distinctly remember the bizarre and outwardly unbelievable case that really hammered home that lesson in respect. It was in the late summer of 1989 when I investigated the mystery of Dutchman's Hollow. I was 24 years old at the time, still relatively fresh from my college years, pursuing my amateur investigations as energetically as ever. I drifted apart somewhat from my old crew, of friends from college, though I was still in such with them. My old pattern of trolling the backwards of Pennsylvania still occupied most of my time. and with my sizable trust fund, my idle pursuits could very well have gone on forever.

Failing at that, I still had what the Chinese call an iron rice bowl, a guaranteed well-paying job at the family business. I wasn't too worried about losing my standing in this respect, as I was the youngest son, and therefore would not inherit the throne anyway. I had a small collection of crime journals, and old newspaper clippings that I regularly poured through. route for any new leads. When I first stumbled upon the mention of the mysterious Dutchman's hollow, I felt like the luckiest junior detective in the whole world. The cases surrounding

this place, though well documented, were not well explored or investigated. In other words, it was fertile ground for someone like myself to make their mark, and the fact that so little was conclusively known about these cases was very inviting for an inquisitive and none too cautious mine like my own. The name Dutchman's Hollow refers to a remote and isolated stretch of forest in the Susque-Hannock State Forest in north central Pennsylvania. A place well off the Bearden Park, even for that region. It lies in a hilly area at the north end of the Appalachian Mountains, and anybody who has been through that area knows how dense and lush that forests can be around there. At that time of the year, the trees were still dense and lush with leaves,

and still had a brilliant and vibrant green in the weeks before the onset of autumn. I spent those days driving along remote stretches of road through the forest, with dense stands of tall elms and oaks looming over both sides of the road, like the ramparts of some primeval fortress. You could look into the trees, but only see about thirty yards in before the forest growth and lack of light obscured the distance. The lack of the forest cover is what made it put. particularly ominous in appearance, like gazing into the moor of some enormous creature.

Dutchman's hollow lies well within this forest, with no direct trails leading to it, and a determined explorer has to deviate some ways off one of the trails to even reach it. I could hardly imagine even reaching a specific area in such a dense and maze-like forest, especially when visibility in any direction is so poor. And that's part of what makes the cases surrounding the holmes. hollow so peculiar. For a region so remote and sparsely inhabited as this, it might be hard to imagine that such a place could be a hotbed of crime, and normally you'd be right. But according to old police records going back decades, the forests surrounding the hollow is a scene of a truly

abnormal number of unsolved disappearances. From 1910 to 1980, there had been 136 known disappearances of people in this area. Just looking at the forest, you might be inclined to think that people just got lost in and among the trees, hikers or wanderers that strayed too far in and couldn't find their way out. This might account for some cases, but even then human remains might have been found. However, in nearly all of the 136 disappearances, no human remains were ever discovered. despite the efforts of large and well-guided search parties investigating the area. They would cover large swathes of the forest for several days,

yet no trace of the missing people would ever materialize. Most of the missing persons were not even locals in the area, just passing motorists, hitchhikers, or curious explorers, and their disappearance would typically go unnoticed for several days. Despite this area of the forest being relatively small, only about five or six miles wide in some places, they would never recover any sign of what happened to them. And that record only shows the number of disappearances up to 1980 or after 1910. There's very little record of disappearances before then, or until I first explored the area in 1989.

But there is one case, one out of the 136 documented in that period, where a person was not only found, but actually found alive. This would be the case of one Raymond Hess. A strange case that only gets even stranger as it goes along. Raymond Hess was 26 years old in the spring of 1977 when he disappeared while driving along the road between the small towns of Cross Fork and Galton, Pennsylvania. He was a native of Altoona and an itinerant odd jobber,

making ends meet in different occupations. He'd recently been discharged from the US Air Force in which he had served as a radar technician in Germany and Turkey and had most recently taken up work as a house painter while learning to become an electrician. On Sunday, March 6th, 1977, he was driving to a job site in Clearfield, Pennsylvania when he disappeared.

Though he was reported late for the job in Clearfield, this wasn't considered unusual for roaming workers like him. It wasn't until Wednesday, March 9th that his absence was noticed by his family in Altoona, who had expected him to come home that morning. On March 10th, with his continued failure to show, Hall contact his family, he was officially reported missing to the police. However, state police authorities had relatively little to go on, based on the known facts. He'd set out from Galton and failed to show for the job in Clearfield. with no trace of him along that long stretch of road. The potential search area was quite large.

On March 14th, over a week since his disappearance, his vehicle was discovered inside the forest, off the road between Cross Forks and Galton. The vehicle, a blue 1969 Pontiac Tempest, was found roughly 40 yards into the tree line and apparently covered with branches and leaves. This find, though somewhat encouraging, was considered quite bizarre by investigators. It was considered highly unusual for a car to not only be found so far off of the road in a dense forest, but also to be conspicuously camouflaged from view. The original assumption was that he might have accidentally run off the road and injured himself, wandering into the forest in a daze, but the car was mostly undamaged.

A speeding car plunging into the forest to that depth almost certainly would have struck a tree and been severely damaged. But the mostly undamaged car instead seemed almost like it was carefully driven into the forest. Furthermore, there was no blood or any sign of physical injury inside the car, which would likely have been present if it were an accident. Based on this, the assumption changed that Hess might have deliberately driven into the forest and walked further in for some reason, which they assumed might have been to possibly commit suicide. Though Hess was known as a solitary man with few friends, nobody in his family indicated that he was depressed or suicidal. The strange disappearance of Raymond Hess continued to mystify authorities for another week,

when it came to an unexpected and bizarre conclusion. On Saturday, 29th of March, a young man was found, wandering by the side of the road in the area where Hess had disappeared two weeks before. The man was found in a state of general undress, according to the report, as well as being dehydrated and suffering from hypothermia. When brought in by local authorities, he was quickly identified as Raymond Hess, the missing man. Investigators had been on the verge of abandoning the case and were astonished that he turned up alive. He was quite dazed in delirited, from his experience, but he made a fairly rapid recovery from his ordeal.

However, when asked about his experiences during those two weeks, he claimed that he had no memory whatsoever of anything that transpired during his absence. He couldn't say how his vehicle ended up inside the forest, or where he'd been during those days, or if anybody else had been responsible. However positive the news of his reappearance, investigators were frustrated by this sizable lapse in memory that prevented any true conclusion to the case. The story of Raymond Hess did not end there, however. His later life was marred by personal difficulties and other unexpected and dark developments.

In July of 1978, he was in Pittsburgh taking a job as an apprentice electrician when he was actually named as a possible suspect in the disappearance of a local woman. He was known to have been acquainted with a woman, another wanderer like himself. He was actually said to have been the last person to see her alive. What was left of her was found in an overgrown ditch next to a junkyard. The remains had been dismembered and burned, with a number of deep gouges in the bones, as if portions of flesh had been cut off of them. She was identified by dental records from a bit of scorched jawbone found in the pile.

Hess had an undeniable proximity to the crime, and though he was interviewed several times by police and even briefly detained, there was little to know physical evidence linking the crime to anybody in particular. Hess abruptly left Pittsburgh shortly after that, even quitting his promising job as an electrician. He resurfaced in Columbus, Ohio the next year. When he was, again named as a possible subject in a similar disappearance of murder, this time of a man with whom he was also acquainted.

Again, despite his proximity to the crime, there was no real evidence suggesting his guilt, and he had again faded off the grid. This process repeated itself two more times, in Ohio and Indiana. Then, in September of 1980, he suddenly left the United States, giving only a slight indication

that he was moving to somewhere in Latin America. The strange case of Raymond Hess would be a focal point in my investigation, but I resolved to start with towns in the general vicinity of Dutchman's Hollow. I made a long drive from my home in Mount Lebanon to a town in the area called Renovo, a fairly small town of about 1,500 people, on the West Branch, Susquehanna River, a trip that took me about three and a half hours. It was a long way to go for one adventure, but this was in the late 80s, when gas was practically.

than dirt, and the opportunity was too tempting for me to ignore. I made the trip in my steel-blue 1975 Cadillac Deville, betude or convertible, one of my cherished possessions. Renovo, only about six miles from the trailhead leading to Dutchman's Hollow, seemed like a good place to act as a base for my investigation. Of course, it seems dumb now that I would so willingly attempt to explore such a remote area, known for strange disappearances. But I was a sturdy young man, still convinced of my youthful invincibility, and I wouldn't be doing this alone, either. My friend Clarissa, part of the old crew,

would join me in a few days, and surely between the two of us we'd be safe. I arrived in town on a Friday afternoon, and began the typical routine I'd formulated over the years, which started with a visit to the local greasy spoon. To my delight, I saw the diner was populated by two old men, local good old boys, that could be an excellent source of information. I introduced myself in usual fashion, and over a cheeseburger and countless cups of coffee, I got to know these two men, Ernest and Jed. We talked for hours about local legends and folklore, and I couldn't have asked for anybody more knowledgeable about the local goings-on. No doubt these two old boys were rather amused with the wandering rich,

kid taking such an interest in the local flavour. But I think we established a good rapport, and that could be invaluable. I was pleasantly surprised to find out they knew all about the reputation that surrounded Dutchman's Hollow, and the cycle of disappearances was an established part of older local legends. Not too many young folks knew about these legends, they said, that it was mostly the subject of myth by this point. But these two men were still firm believers in the stories about the area. You won't catch me up there ever. Not for a million dollars, you won't, said Jed. Old folks around here will tell you the same thing. Young folks don't know so much, but they don't go around there anyways, said Ernest. I learned a lot from Ernest and Jed,

and I was pleased to have made a good impression on the locals before starting out on my investigation. Later that evening, I settled into a room at a local hotel and kept studying the reports and stories about the disappearances around the area, but all the while, Ernest and Jed's words kept running through my head. According to them, the local legends surrounding the area were an older phenomenon, and few still heeded them. At first, this was reassuring, because if the stories were that old and had since faded away, then it might mean I could explain. I could explore the area in relative safety. At the same time, I was starting to feel a growing apprehension about this whole misguided adventure, and having confirmation from the locals that there was

something strange about the area made this feeling more pronounced. Nonetheless, I'd resolve that I would do some exploring there myself before Clarissa arrived in two days. I had a rough route along a hiking trail sketched out, and with some moderate hiking provisions, I was physically well prepared for the journey. By 10 o'clock the next morning, I stood at the edge of the forest leading to the hollow, and my prior feelings of apprehension returned as I observed the path leading in. I knew the forests in this region were dense and wild, but standing immediately the edge of it, looking in, was an ominous experience. The trees and brush were closely spaced, with the treetops forming a particularly dense canopy overhead that almost completely blocked sunlight.

Further in, I could see that the underbrush wasn't too thick, but the upward slope and close-together trees limited forward visibility to about 30 yards at most. From the outside, I could only get a mild sense of the darkness under the trees, but actually stepping past the tree-line changed the atmosphere completely. When I stepped into forest proper, it almost seemed to see that. like the time of day had instantly changed from mid-morning to evening, a startling shift that I hardly expected. Now I was starting to get nervous and rethinking my commitment to this investigation, but the

alternative was sit on my ass back in town for two days until Clarissa showed up and restored my confidence. Lacking any better ideas, I started on my way up the trail. I wasn't sure if I tried to make it all the way to the hollow, but going a little way to and getting a sense of the land seemed appropriate. The trail I followed was not well maintained, occluded in many places by underbrush on both sides, so I had to go quite slow to maintain my bearings.

I figured the whole hike would be about four hours round-trip. Not much of a challenge for me, but the land was steeper than I'd expected. I followed the trail religiously, only taking my eyes off it to scan my surroundings. Knowing the reputation of this place, I remained alert and stopped frequently to look around for anything suspicious. The forest wasn't earthly still, with only a slight breeze moving among the trees, rustling the leaves overhead. It occurred to me around this time that I probably should have brought a gun along with me,

isolated as I was in a region that was known to be dangerous. This belated realization was yet another example of my design. decidedly poor planning of this expedition. All I had on me was a small utility knife, a multi-tool that I'd been extraordinarily proud of earlier, but would be a poor choice for self-defense. I suppose it was better than nothing, but it struck me then that I was not well prepared at all

if I actually did stumble upon something around Dutchman's Hollow. To say that I felt like I was being watched would be an understatement. I've heard people describe, this eerie feeling before, but they've never done justice to just how profoundly unpleasant that feeling is. I trudged along the trail feeling their sensation grows stronger as I approached the point where the path to the hollow breaks off the main trail. When I reached this point, I stopped to have a look at my surroundings and contemplate possibly going ahead. The trail that led off

in the direction of the hollow was barely a trail at all, instead being more like a fairer faint string of bear spots in the underbrush, leading off to the south-west. I don't know if it was just me and my nerves, but I could swear the forest along this path was even darker and more ominous than the rest. The silence in particular was disturbing to me. A forest at this time in the summer should have been more active and noisy, with droning insects and warbling birds and all kinds of forest creatures. Some of that was present, but at a strangely low level. volume, hardly audible above the sound of trees rustling in the wind. After about five minutes

staring into the direction of the hollow, I made up my mind to turn back and head towards the road where I'd part my car. I'd had quite enough of this eerie forest for one day. I was almost desperate to leave it behind. Before I turned back, I decided to get a picture of the trail leading to the hollow, a picture that didn't turn out particularly well. due to the poor lighting in the forest, but I wasn't interested in sticking around to get it right. I went back along the trail the way I came, at a much brisker pace than before, not bothering to look around for any sign of danger this time. As I kept going, I was struck by a powerful, anxious feeling that I might be lost in this forest,

that I might never find my way out because of poor visibility in all directions. I just did my best to keep my nose in dirt on the trail, and after about 15 minutes I was relieved to finally see the edge of the forest and beyond, the shoulder by the side of the road where my car was parked. Without ceremony, I hopped in and got my car going back in the direction of Renovo. The first thing I did back in town was to visit that comfortable old diner. My fear and anxiety dropped off enormously when I crossed the threshold, glad to be back someplace sheltered and familiar. As before, Ernest and Jed were parked in their usual booth,

palavering over their endless cups of coffee, and they ushered me over as I walked in. I remember how glad I was to see their faces, and I greeted them with great warmth. Even though it was past lunchtime, I ordered a plate of bacon and eggs to the amusement of my companions, but, well, I wasn't embarrassed. My experience in the woods had left me completely,

completely famished, and bacon and eggs was what I craved. Over my lunch, I told Ernest and Jed about my trip into the forest, which made their usually good humour instantly dissolved. They were a standard. I'd do something like that, after their stories and veiled warnings about having anything to do with that place. In Jed's words, I was a damn fool for doing that, and Ernest had some words about how young folks don't listen close enough when it comes to serious matters like this.

I can't say that I disagreed with them. I was in that forest, and I know just what it felt like being anywhere near Dutchman's Hollow. Despite their admonishments, Bernice and Jed were still reassuring and supportive to me, and even though their warnings were clear, I resolved to return to the forest the next day.

Perhaps it was the sense of restored well-being I received returning to town, or maybe it was just strange excitement. at feeling vindicated for walking through those woods, but I was set on finding out all I could during my trip up here. I didn't tell Ernest and Jed that I planned to go back there, but with their warnings fresh in my mind, I was intent on being more cautious.

As soon as I left, I headed over to a hunting gear store to buy myself some more impressive means of self-defense. This shop did actually sell some firearms, but I settled for a large hunting life that must have been twice the size of my original, utility night. With the rest of the day to kill, and not intending to go back before tomorrow, I decided I would try to visit a library or historical society in the area to do some more research on local

history. Ernest and Jed were pretty good resources for general knowledge, but I thought a more detailed history of the area might shed some light on what exactly I was walking into. One thing I love about small towns. They care about their local history in a way that more cosmopolitan city folks don't. In the library in South Renovo, I found a whole section on the history of Clinton County and the surrounding areas, going back to pre-colonial times. There were books on native tribes, notable settlers, the natural landscape, and all sorts of topics.

In one book, I finally found some information regarding the origins of the legend of Dutch man's hollow. In the year 1656, a Dutch settler named Wiccund de Haida and his family arrived in the New World through the port of New Amsterdam, which then was still part of the Dutch colony of New Netherland. He originally settled on the shores of Chesapeake Bay, today part of the state of Maryland, where he prospered as a trader in fabrics and pelts. He and his family would live there for nearly 20 years, until the year 1674. when, in the aftermath of the Third Anglo-Dutch War, the New Netherland colony was ceded to the British. Wickus and his family, possessing a strong antipathy towards British rule, left the colony in disgust and went north, into the wows of the northern Appalachian Mountains in modern-day Pennsylvania.

He and his family was settled in a very remote stretch of forest, far from British authority, in a region that would bear the name Dutchman's Hollow, after its' arrival. original residents. Though the region in which they settled was still populated by a native tribe, the Fandaida family was still determined to call the forest home. Early friction between the natives and the new settling family eventually gave way to a mutual understanding and tentative peace that would last for well over a century. Dutchman's Hollow was situated in a part of the forest that had great spiritual significance

to the local tribe, who feared and hated the region. and regarded it as a dwelling place of powerful and ancient spirits. Despite avoiding the region, they opposed van der Heide's decision to settle there, fearing it would provoke the wrath of the spirits, said to inhabit the hollow. This opposition to settlement would fuel much of the violence between the natives and settlers, but eventually the natives were driven from the region by another tribe, who permitted their van der Heide family to live there so long as they avoided. contact with one another. Wekus van der Heider would call this area home for the rest of his life,

as would his descendants, who would remain there for centuries, their backs to the outside world. Other than that, not much was really known about the early settlers in the forest. Nobody has seen the family for hundreds of years, and it's thought they might have perished during a harsh winter in 1806, which was the last time anybody had ever seen them. Outsiders know little about it, and those who do generally avoid it out of habit and deference to local legend. Armed with this knowledge, I was now determined to return to the forest the next day to continue my investigation, my curiosity overriding my fear and apprehension.

In an odd way, it was actually reassuring to know that the original native share my own fearful impressions of the forest, that they do. too were intimidated by its dark and ominous atmosphere. In my mind, I rationalised my fears as being the product of that atmosphere, that despite the abnormal number of disappearances in the area, the eerie feeling of dread was due to my own imagination running wild and overpowering my reason. Nothing was really wrong, I thought. I'd be more prepared and cautious the next time, and nothing could get the drop on me so long

as I was vigilant. Having thoroughly rationalized my fears, I found my courage restored and I prepared for another trip into the forest, hopeful that my newfound courage would hold out. The next day I again found myself standing at the edge of the forest, suddenly reminded of why I was afraid of this place before. Worse, today was mostly overcast, and now even less light made it through the forest canopy to the trail below. But I still held on to my previous.

previous rationale, but my fears were overblown and nothing would happen to a plucky young fellow like myself if I was prepared and extra cautious. Once again, I stepped across the threshold of the trees and went on my way along the trail. I remembered the trail well, and my pace was much quicker than last time, but the feeling of being watched was even more pronounced than before. The fact that the forest was even darker than yesterday certainly didn't help to really, assure me. I pushed on regardless until I reached the point where I'd stopped the last time and regarded the spotty, unclear trail supposedly leading to Dutchman's hollow. To this day, I can still remember quite clearly the powerful feeling of dread that struck me while I gazed

into that dense forest, a feeling that nearly forced me to turn right back around. It felt like I was trespassing in a powerful, inviable place, and I felt terribly exposed, like someone was watching me as I crossed the boundary. But there wasn't any decision to be made. I was determined to get farther than I had yesterday, and so I took a deep breath and stepped forward onto the trail to the hollow. At first, I felt relief when I made that first step, relief that nothing dreadful had happened immediately, that the forest around me seemed unchanged. I tried to keep my eyes riveted to the sparse trail ahead of me, a trail that was much choppier and less clear than before. The path mostly consisted of short clearings in the underbrush, arranged in a general

line, acquiring short stops at each spot, the next one in the sequence, to stay oriented. Now my pace was much slower, giving me time to appreciate scenery surrounding the trail. As I went on, the forest canopy seemed to get even more dense and came to a lower height the further I proceeded. The forest became thicker and more claustrophobic at every point, and now very little daylight penetrated to the forest floor. Thankfully, the trail was now going down at a gentle slope, but the underbrush only seemed to get thicker and more tangled, consuming the energy I would have been saving going downhill.

I had no idea just what I would find at the end of this trail. Maybe an empty patch of forest, or the ruins of an old settlement, or even the remnants of a village littered with corpses of the people who'd gone missing up here. Around this time, my common sense was finally starting to regain control, and I thought better of pushing my luck further than I already had. I came to a bend in the trail that led me around the side of a hill into a short hollow that I assume was my destination. I stopped and crouched down to get a good look at the area, before deciding whether or not

to go any further. The wind was picking up, creating that eerie whistling as it blew through the treetops overhead. but this time there was a strange undertone to this ambience it now took on a strange cadence almost rhythmic like people chanting something unintelligible that feeling of being watched was more powerful than ever and I was utterly pinned in place by my nerves without warning the wind suddenly died down

and left the forest absolutely calm and quiet that same unnatural stillness as before Now every single rustle of leaves and brush was clearly audible around me, and I stayed frozen in place, wary of every slight sound that stood out in the silence. After my right was a gentle rustle of bushes that I hardly paid attention to it before, but now it seemed to grow louder and less rhythmic, like something would briefly scramble forward and then pause, and I knew that this wasn't because of the wind. I hoped that it was just an animal, maybe a deer or a fox. But a wild animal like that wouldn't just rush in the direction of a human being, or so I thought. I snapped my head in that direction. I could swear that, for a second, I caught the faint outline of something moving between the tree some 40 yards away.

Whatever it was, I couldn't see, but I knew that there was some kind of animal off in that direction, something pale and hunched over. My nerves gave out at that point. I turned tail and began a brisk trot back in the direction of the main trail. This time convinced I was about to become the victim of an animal attack or God knows what. Fishing my new hunting knife out of my patch, I rapidly scanned the forest all around. That insistent rustling now getting quicker and closer to me. I wasn't quite in fight or flight mode, but I was gripping the handle of my knife so firmly,

that my knuckles went white. By now, I had escalated to a run, tearing my way through thickets along the path without caring how badly I got scratched up. To my dismay, whatever was moving through the forest off to my right, was keeping pace with me the whole time, getting closer than ever to the trail I was following. I accelerated to a sprint, or as close as I could get to a sprint while pushing my way through the brush and low-hanging branches, and whatever was chasing me kept up without any trouble. Frantic as I was, I began tearing up, ready to cry out if whatever was giving chase finally caught up with me.

Now I wasn't even consistently following the trail ahead, sometimes charging off into the brush to cut a bend or corner in the trail. Finally, as I rounded one last bend, I saw the junction with the main trail. Into my incredible relief, I heard the rustling quickly die off. Whatever had pursued me had now broken off from chasing me, and I just about dove across the threshold of the main trail. I just about collapsed there, overcome with relief,

and coming down from fear-induced adrenaline. Regaining my awareness, I saw that I wasn't necessarily out of danger yet, and I got up and quickly retraced my steps back along the main trail to my car. As I went along, I wiped the tears from my eyes and the snot from my nose, hoping it would look as if nothing had happened when I got back to town. At this point, my relief gave way to mild embarrassment over my minor breakdown, and the thought I'd nearly gotten myself attacked by a wild animal through my own stupidity.

It isn't that stupid when I think about it now, but at the time I felt foolish over the whole misadventure in the middle of the woods. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price is right fortune pick is only available at BetMGM Casino. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly.

19 plus to wage your Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BenMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. I made my way back to my car to see that right behind it was parked a brown and white sedan with sirens on top, marked with a symbol of the Clinton County Sheriff's Department, and a sheriff's deputy looking around the area. He waved at me when he saw me come out of the trees, and I waved back and went over to him.

Afternoon, sir, he said mildly. Uh, hello there, I responded, now somewhat nervous. I've always been nervous around authority figures. "'This your vehicle here?' he said, pointing at my convertible. "'Ah, yeah. Is it far enough of the shoulder? I was just hiking up there and—' I said meekly, pointing in the direction of the train. "'No, it's fine. Saw your vehicle here. Wanted what it was doing here. You said you were hiking up there?' he asked incredulously.

Yeah, it's not off limits, is it? I replied. Now worried I was in trouble. No, it's an open trail. Just wondering what you're doing there. Not many people go up there, he said. Just curious, really. Wanted to see what was up there.

Well, some folks in town heard a young fellow was going up there, and they were worried. I smiled at that bit. I guess old Ernest and Jed really were concerned. about me. They're good guys, those two. Well, I'm fine, pretty much. I was just on my way back, I said dismissively. All right, well, I'll follow you back. Make sure you get there okay. He said with a brisk nod. I didn't object to that. I was still pretty rattled from the whole experience, and I suppose having another friendly face around might settle my nerves. Before we left, I took one last look into the forest.

and for a brief second I thought I could see a vague outline of a man in the darkness under the trees. I rubbed my eyes emphatically, and when I opened them, the outline was gone. I got in my car warily, and the two of us drove back into Renavo, the deputy close behind. We both turned into the parking lot of the familiar old diner, and the deputy, one deputy, Shane Hale, got out and went inside with me. "'Good coffee here,' he said cheerfully as we went inside. "'As ever, over in the corner booth were Ernest and Jed. "'And to my great surprise, I saw my friend Colissa sitting with them,

"'shutting them up enthusiastically. "'She was part of our old crew of friends, "'and she knew all the same tricks that I did "'when it came to pump in the locals for information. "'She waved me over excitedly. "'I quickly wipe my face in case there are any tears or snots still on. Deputy Hale took a seat at the counter, while I piled into the booth next to Clarissa and greeted them with as much excitement as I could muster in my rattled state.

As I thought, Ernest and Jed were the ones who told the sheriff's deputy to check on me under-trailed to Dutchman's hollow, worried I was still going out there. Clissa had been there for about half an hour before I showed up, and got into a conversation with those two about the same things I'd asked about two days before. She wasn't planning to arrive until tomorrow, but she got time off work a day early and decided to show up then. I joined in the conversation, but with less enthusiasm as I might have done before. Knowing that they were worried about me, I decided not to tell Ernest and Jed about what had happened up there at the hollow, as I was still a bit embarrassed about the whole thing.

They told Clarissa many of the same things they told me days before. I told them a bit about my own impressions. of the forest during my brief excursions up there. She was actually excited about what I told her, the fear-adding that she is, and it took a lot of effort to convince her not to go up there right away. I said that we should spend the rest of the day

doing some research before we even thought about going back up there. It's my relief, she finally agreed. I wasn't sure that I even wanted to go back up. I know that I'd thought the same thing the day before, but this time the threat was abundantly clear. and I wasn't sure I could rationalise it this time. I resolved that I would tell Clarissa the truth about it once we had a moment alone to discuss our next move.

We palavered with Ernest and Jedd for another hour or two, with the occasional input from Deputy Hale before we decided to head out. I directed Clarissa over to the library for our research efforts and I was sure that I hadn't read the full story about Dutchman's Hollow or any of the people that lived there. I poured through the local history section, looking out for any books that I'd missed or skipped over in my previous trip. In one book was a whole section on early settlers in the region, and in it I read that the van der Heider family were not the only ones who came to settle in Dutchman's hollow.

In the year 1699, the Scotsman named Wallace McDuff made the journey across the Atlantic, arriving in the port of Boston. He was a woodsman by trade, nursing dreams of settling the Virgin Lerner. lands of the New World, and he would come to this part of it in the summer of 1700. By this time, the vast land had been granted to William Penn, after whom the colony of Pennsylvania was named, and like the van der Heide clan, he would opt to settle in the remote forest. He brought his family to the region of Dutchman's Hollow, where the van der Heider clan still dwelt, though old Vickers was long dead by this point. His eldest son, Christian van der Heide was the patriarch of their family at the time, and despite some early friction

between the two families, he grudgingly permitted Macduff and his family to settle there. These would be the only two families who would ever settle in this region, and both would live in almost complete seclusion, almost never interacting with the outside world. For decades, few were aware that anybody had ever even settled the area, and those who did were deeply suspicious of the reclusive families who lived in those woods. They were become the target of many unsavory rumours, some accusing them of witchcraft or devil-worship, others saying that they engaged in disgusting, perverted and decadent behaviours

in the privacy of Dutchman's hollow. Indeed, nobody could ever prove such rumours, but the seclusion of the Maduff and van der Heider families didn't help their case either. They would live this way for over a century, being so reclusive that some speculated that the two families might have decamped for greener pastures or simply died out. With only two families living in that area, the only way they could produce any progeny was a constant cycle of intermarriage. And to do so for a whole century, they likely would have had quite a few kissing cousins in their family trick. After all, inbreeding wasn't exactly uncommon in that era, and during that time, more than one royal dynasty in Europe had virtually died out because,

of it. If that was the case, then it might explain the virtual disappearance of the two families by the early 19th century. The last confirmed sighting of a member of either family was in 1806, and the rather harsh winter was speculated to have killed them off. But rumors of their continued survival still persisted, and some of the disgusting rumors about them only got wilder and more far-fetched over time. Could have done the whole Donner Party thing, Clarissa Gia. irreverently. I chuckled at that for a second, but then I was given pause. Hmm, cannibalism. It was a bit far-fetched, to be sure. But then again, something like that wasn't strictly out of the question either. Larissa meant it as a joke, so I thought I was reading too much into it.

But that thought still stuck in the back of my mind. All we really know for sure is what we read in the history books, that there have been numerous disappearances in the story. the area going back several decades. I know that I was chased by something in the woods only a few hours before, and that there was something definitely off about those woods. It only got worse the closer I got to Dutchman's Hollow. I did my best to stifle these wild theories and put them out of my mind, but one chilling fact still remains.

Nobody can say for sure what happened to the van der Heider-McDuff clan, or whether or not they are still alive. I suppose nobody would really know for sure unless somebody explored the hollow itself. I was fairly sure that I wouldn't be the one who did it. To my chagrin, Clarissa was not so deterred. She was quite insistent that we got all the way to the hollow, convinced that was the source of the mystery, and all would be laid bare once we had a chance to investigate it.

We went to the motel that evening, and I tried many ways to dissuade her. I finally told her what had happened that day up in the woods, that I had gotten near to the hollow and had been chased by something unnatural the whole way out. I don't know how much she believed about my story, but she could see quite clearly that I was deeply disturbed about my experience. This time she took a turn trying to persuade me instead, saying that what happened might be clear evidence that there really was something to these stories about legends in the area. Yeah, she's clever like that.

I thought I would never budge on this issue, but her insistence began to sway me. After all, she had come all this way and taken time off of work to investigate this with me, and saying no to her at this point didn't feel right. I was torn between this and my own fear of going back up there, because now there seemed to be a definite danger lurking in those woods. Eventually, I caved, and I promised to bring her up to the train. and take her all the way to Dutchman's hollow. In my mind I was still opposed to the idea,

but I came to realize that she would go up there without me if I refused to go, and I felt responsible for her safety. I slept terribly that night. It was the kind of sleep where you keep waking up with a start for no apparent reason, and even though you know that you were asleep, you don't feel like you've actually been asleep.

After the third or fourth time waking up, up, I decided to stay up for a while and think, hoping that I would become drowsy enough to sleep all the way through the night. I was sitting in a chair, idly gazing out the window to the highway, when I saw something unusual next to the road. I thought I was seeing a human shape wandering out in the darkness, but I couldn't be completely sure. But that outline would reappear every few seconds, and I was riveted by this unexpected sight. Next to the road was a street lamp that cast an orange glow on the ground. I could see this human outline approaching it. Now this figure had my complete attention. From what I could see, the figure was a man, an extremely tall man,

wearing strange clothes and quietly sidling along the side of the road. When he reached the glow of the street lamp, I was able to see this figure clearly. was indeed a man, a very tall man that I think must have been nearly seven feet tall and extremely thin, with his joints bulging out noticeably. He must have had pale or ruddy skin, though it was difficult to tell in the orange glow, and he had a large, tangled mop of remarkably pale blonde hair on his head, and a bushy beard of the same colour on his face. His clothes, if you can call them that, seemed very crude and filthy, as if he had been a little. He was a He'd cobbled them from sacks or strips of cloth and leather.

His torso was covered by a short-sleeved tunic, and his legs clad in a pair of shorts that looked like burlap or some other type of cloth. I didn't know why at the time, but the sight of this man gave me unbelievable chills. I assumed that maybe he was a vagrant, given his crude manner of dress, but this man didn't even wear shoes, and I can't imagine any vagrant going anywhere without at least shoes. He just stood there under the light, examining the sky in the small town around him, as if he hadn't been there before. With a sudden start, he quickly turned his gaze to my window. I swear to God that he locked eyes with me. I shrank back into the room away, now fearful about

what this strange man might do. I stayed glued. to my chair, hoping that the man would go away if he couldn't see me for a few minutes. After a while, I peeked out of the blinds again, and to my horror, he was not only still out there, but across to our side of the road and stood at the edge of the parking lot, with eyes still fixed on the motel window. I snatched the hunting knife out of my pack and stayed back away from the window, wondering if I was about to be the victim of an attack by a roaming vagrant. Again, I hung back for a few minutes, silently praying that this horrible figure would leave,

until I finally worked up the courage to check the window again. My heart sank when I saw his all-too-familiar outline outside, still staring at the window, but he only looked for a few seconds, when he did a swift about-face and strode off down the road and into the night. I almost panicked at this gesture, thinking he was moving towards me, but to my relief, he disappeared into the darkness. I don't know how I managed to fall asleep after that,

but I woke up early the next morning in the same chair, knife still clutched in my hand. In my mind, I hadn't connected this vagrant with anything to do without project, but I was starting to wonder about this as I greeted the dawn. A few hours later, Clarissa came to my room door for a wake-up call. She was bright and chipper as ever, clearly eager to get on with our investigation. Over coffee and donuts, we talked a bit about our plans for the day. She was still insisting that we should go all the way to the hollow, and I knew that I couldn't persuade her otherwise.

Getting a bit of food in my stomach didn't restore any courage this time. If anything, I only got more queasy. At 9.30, the appointed hour came. We loaded our supplies into my car for the trip up to the trail. The whole drive, she was talking about our own theories regarding our case, not seeming to notice that I was hardly replying. At this point I was just resigned to what was going on. Maybe if she saw the forest for herself, experienced the ominous and unpleasant aura that lingered about the place, she might think twice about her determination. We reached the pull-off and I parked the car in the usual spot, just off the shoulder of the

road. I was disappointed to see that she was enthralled by the sight of the dense, dark forest, and now she seemed more determined than ever to take the plunge. I could hardly stop her from taking the lead on the trail while I followed behind pointing out different things. She was quite energetic as we trudged through the woods, keeping a solid lead ahead of me, hardly needing directions from me. Like yesterday, the sky was largely overcast, and the forest beneath cloaked in shadow. With her enthusiasm, we made good time getting to the turn-off for the trail leading to Dutchman's hollow, where we paused for a brief spell. I pointed in the direction of the hollow, hoping that she might think again about our excursion when she saw her.

the forest beyond. She was indeed starting to waver a bit, but she was as hard-headed as she was determined, and she urged me on after a very brief but noticeable hesitation from her. This time I insisted on taking the lead on the trail, hoping that a slower pace might make her come around. Again, I was mistaken. That all too familiar feeling of being watched took hold as we set out. having Clarissa with me was mildly reassuring

but I knew what we might be walking into the wind stayed at a moderate strength just quite enough so I could have a chance to hear anything that might come after us out here we finally reached the last bend where I'd given up last time and I paused to point out to Clarissa that the hollow beyond was likely our destination

now I could see she was definitely having second her thoughts, that she must have shared my feeling of being watched. But damn her, she still insisted on going forward. After some hesitation, we proceeded around the bend and got our first good look into Dutchman's hollow itself. The hollow was set in between two closely spaced in steep hills, with trees on both sides looming overhead with a slight curve, like the entrance of a cave. There was a clear path leading down into the hollow, just past the bend, with a small clearing being faintly visible down the way. We made our way down the path much more slowly and cautiously than we had before. I was overwhelmed by the feeling of awe and dread of being in that

place, that sinister place surrounded by so much mystery and dark legend. The trees in the hollow were more dense and ominous than anywhere on the trail leading up to it, with very little light breaching the treetops, making the path feel like we were in the twilight of the day, instead of near the high point of the morning. Along the path were small piles of stones, arranged in a pyramid. They were cairns, definite signs of human presence. The path itself was rather long, but after a short while, we finally emerged into the clearing that marked the exact spot of the legendary Dutchman's hollow. The clearing was situated in a steep gully, with a forest close in on all sides, so that the

forest canopy extended over most of it, but with slightly more light visible. Around the edges of the hollow were the long-abandoned ruins of two houses that had long since rotted away, leaving behind only their foundations covered in ivy. In the centre was a pile of stone rubble, probably the remains of a well, though the pit of the well had long since collapsed inward, leaving only a small depression in the ground. We were so awestruck by the scene that we almost forgot why we were there in the first place. We began examining all around the perimeter of the hollow, trying to find the exact boundaries or any other structures we'd missed. I noticed for the first

time the entrance to the hollow was marked by two cans, one on each side of the path, clearly meant to indicate the threshold of this place. I stepped into the foundation of one of the houses, trying to see if there was anything like a basement, which I found out when the ground beneath me gave way and I plunged about six feet into a lower part of the foundation. I was relieved to see that this new part of the house was relatively shallow, and Clarissa was able to help me out with a hole. It was apparently the basement I'd fallen into, a sod basement with no remaining overhead supports. The first house turned up nothing, with the basement being completely empty and the above-ground section being completely rotted away. The second house was a bit more

promising. It was in a similar state of decay as the first, but there was still a clear entrance to the basement of this one. We lowered ourselves inside, and were briefly overpowered by the musty stench of it. It was incredibly clogged with spider webs that cross. the whole room, with some webs still populated by their current occupants. We had to look around with our flashlights, seeing that this basement was somewhat more intact than the other, when we spotted yet another small can against the back wall of the room. Without needing to be asked, Clarissa approached it, looking over it carefully, and then began to dismantle it.

We cleared off the stones to find that underneath was a narrow but very deep hole. almost like a shaft, not large enough to fall into, but certainly deep enough that I could barely reach the bottom with my arm. But Clarista's urging, I reluctantly rolled up my sleeve, shone the light down the hole, and probed it with my hand. Thankfully, there were no bugs crawling about in the hole, which I had expected. I slowly reached down further and further into the hole when I felt my fingers brushing the bottom. I didn't know what I exactly was looking for, but at the bottom I thought I could feel string or bits of straw. Reaching down a bit further, I managed to get a good grip on the object, and I pulled it up out of the hole to examine it. I was surprised to see that the object was actually a doll.

It was a rag-dog, stitched together from bits of what I assume was burlap, with bits of straw and feathers forming the hair on the head, which had been crudely stuck through the cloth. The doll had no eyes or face. It was definitely of a human form, and strangely heavy. It felt like it was filled with small hard objects like rocks, but irregularly shaped with some sharp edges. I turned the doll around to see that some of these edges were actually poking through a stitched section of the doll's back. I poured the stitching apart a little bit

and shook out some of these objects. A few spilled onto the ground, and I could see that the little bit. and I could see that they were white in colour, with pale, brownish-yellow streaks. As I weighed them in my hand, I suddenly realised what exactly I was holding. Bone! The doll had been stuffed with bone fragments. I was utterly taken aback by this revelation, and threw aside the doll, laying out the bones where Colissa could see them. These were only bone fragments, so I couldn't tell what kind of animal.

all the bones were from, but it must have been something big if the fragments were the size of small stones. Clarissa was as shocked as I was by this find, which I was sure was evidence of something bizarre and probably quite fucked up going on in this place. We made a hasty exit from the basement and decided not to enter any more dark basements while we were here. At first I was glad to be back in the fresh air outside, but the ugly atmosphere of the hollow, quick. quickly dampened my spirits. The wind was starting to pick up again, making the forest more noisy

and bringing back that ominous howl of air passing through the treetops. It was that same howl as before, the one that sounded almost like chanting voices. And I didn't associate that sound with anything good. Clarissa insisted that we stay a little while longer to cover all of our bases while we were here. I think she didn't want to make a return trip to this place

and I agreed. We went back to surveying the perimeter of the hollow, poking through brush at the edges to see if we'd missed anything. Clarissa called out excitedly from someplace behind the second house, well inside the brush at the edge. I ran over to see that she was shining her light into a small cave, obscured by the brush, straining to see what was inside.

She wanted to look around inside that cave, convinced that there was something worth finding in there, even after what we'd found in the basement before. I really didn't want to go inside, but it's hard to argue with someone as enthusiastic as Clarissa. I followed right behind her as we shimmied into the low cave entrance. The cave was unexpectedly deep, reaching into the ground nearly ten yards before opening up a bit. after the narrow bit we found ourselves standing within a larger cavern the ceiling about seven or eight feet high and the room about twenty feet across in any direction it was almost totally round with few dark edges and a small depression in the centre that was filled with something dark that we couldn't see clearly

some amount of outside light came down from the shaft leading to the entrance but this inner chamber was totally dark and we only saw its dimensions when we explored with our flashlights. Looking up, I could see there was a small, narrow opening in the ceiling that led into a long vertical shaft that actually had some daylight far above. I wondered how something like that could have formed naturally, and I realised that it couldn't. Everything here had to have been built or dug by human hands. I looked into the pit in the centre,

and examining it, it saw that it was. filled with ashes and bits of charcoal, almost like a campfire was burning there. Someone had to have lived in this place at one time or another if there was burning fire in here. Clarissa called out my name again and directed me towards another alcove that we'd missed on our first survey of the room, which showed yet another small tunnel opening. Without warning, Clarissa crouched down and went forward into the tunnel, and I had no time to protest this. The tunnel was quite a bit shorter than the other, less than five yards, and it led into a smaller chamber of a more rectangular shape with a lower ceiling.

The first thing I noticed about this new chamber was the stench, a horrible stink of guts and rotting meat, like you'd smell near a slaughterhouse. I was alarmed by this powerful stench, which was undetectable anywhere else in the cave, and came on so suddenly upon entering this new chamber. At this point, I decided we'd explored quite enough, and I tried to urge Clarissa to leave this disgusting place before we found something we really regretted finding.

She didn't reply at first, but I only continued to stare at some remote spot on the ground in front of her. I went over to see exactly what she was so fixated on. I approached her from behind, and saw that she was staring at yet another pit in the ground, again filled with some dark substance that I didn't want to examine too close. I tried getting her attention, but she only stared and pointed at the pit on the floor, urging me to take a closer look. I bent over and saw that this pit was not full of ashes, but rather some dark red substance that I almost immediately recognized.

Blood! This pit was the apparent source of the horrid stench. I leaned over to see that I was not mistaken. This pit was indeed filled with blood. I dab my finger in it, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't what I expected. But it was. This blood was fresh. It smeared easily on my hands and didn't even seem coagulated.

This was, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Fresh blood neatly pulled into a small pit. This was as clear as sign as any that we stumbled. upon something we were clearly not prepared to face. The two of us, amateur slews, a lot of curiosity and not much actual sense. We were now confronted with proof that something bizarre and horrific was clearly afoot, and we had semi-wittingly placed ourselves right in the middle of it. In our years of junior detective work, we'd never come upon anything quite like this.

Indeed, we'd never really found anything truly substantive before. This finding left both of us feeling extremely vulnerable in that moment, now finally grasping the depth of our situation. We were deep inside a mysterious cave in the midst of a dense and remote forest, a cave with only one discernible entrance exit, where something clearly still dwelt. I hardly needed to persuade Clarissa that we should try to make a quick exit from this place, before we made any more disturbing and unwelcome discoveries. We immediately turned back and made our way through the narrow tunnels to the long, sloping passage that led up to the cave entrance.

As I looked up to the entrance through the long passage, I thought I saw a very flicker of a shadow at the entrance above, and for a brew second I caught a faint whiff of a putrid odour wafting down the tunnel. I thought for a second that maybe this was the same stench from the low. lowest chamber, that distinct smell of rotting meat. But this smell was different, more like offensive body odour than anything else. The foul odor and the brief shadow across the entrance made me hesitate for a moment, but I had even less desire to remain here than to venture back into the forest. Clarissa and I made our way up to the entrance and emerged into the relatively

fresh air of the forest outside, glad for a moment to be outside of that horrible place, even if Dutchman's hollow was the immediate alternative to the cave. To our dismay, the sky was now completely overcast, casting the forest outside in an even more dim and forbidding shadow than before. The wind had now become a stiff breeze that made considerable noise as it rustled the treetops overhead. Without pause, we gathered our packs and immediately set our on the trail leading out of this place. Despite our fatigue from scrambling through the cave tunnels, we set a brisk pace along the trail,

how eager to be out of this place before anything else made an appearance. As we crossed between the cairns marking the entrance to the hollow, I once again detected that foul odour I'd first picked up near the cave. This time, the odour was noticeably more powerful, enough that I actually halted for a few seconds, to waft it away with my hand. The wind suddenly died off and the stench dissipated, which was a relief at first, until I perceived the unusual stillness of the forest around us. I ventured a look into the woods on both sides and turned around to give Dutchman's holler

one last parting glance before leaving this place for good, and regarded it cautiously for a few seconds and prepared to turn my attention back to the trail when I saw a vague but disturbingly familiar outline among the brush at the edge of the hollow. I recognized it instantly as a human outline, standing straight up with some streaks of pale skin visible along the foliage. I froze in place, every nerve in my body prickling with acute fear as I fixed my eyes on what appeared to be a man standing and staring at along the trail, staring at us. Clarissa noticed my startled posture, and with a worrying expression demanded to know what I'd seen behind us.

I broke out of my trance and simply urged her to keep going, hoping that what I'd seen was somehow only an illusion. We increased our pace and kept following the trail, hardly pausing to keep our bearings on the patchy, unclear trail leading through the brush. It was then I heard that only too familiar sound of something sprinting and leaping through the brush around us. The sound that got closer with each passing second. My heart just about plummeted from my chest to my stomach when I recalled where I'd heard that sound before. And staving the urge to groan in terror, I pressed Clarissa to pick up the pace even more.

I worked up the courage to turn around and look for any sign of our eyes. pursuer and off to our left I could see the same figure of a man standing partly obscured by a tree, a figure that I recognized instantly. It was the figure of the man I'd seen the night before, the extremely tall man with long and bushy pale blonde hair and a scraggly blonde beard to match, with light skin covered by a layer of dirt and grime, sparsely clad in rags and animal furrows. Cluice paused again to ask what I'd seen. when she caught sight of him as well, clasping her hands over her mouth to scyfall a scream. I grabbed her by the shoulders, and we both crouched behind the brush at the edge of the trail,

hoping that this might obscure our position from our pursuer. Don't run, I said quietly into her ear. We'll just keep walking, real calm, and we'll be left alone. I didn't quite believe those words as I said them. but I needed both of us to stay calm and not panic. At that moment, I had the idea that the reason I was chased the day before was due to how I'd panicked and sprinted off, like I had ignited some primordial chase instinct in this man.

I still believed somehow that this man was a local vagrant, probably high on something, and clearly felt his domain had been violated by the likes of us. This guy obviously doesn't want us here, So we're just leaving. He'll respect that, I said reassuringly. Again, I don't know if I believed this either, but I needed to keep my eyes on the trail,

and I couldn't have either of us panicking and getting lost. With a few more reassuring words, I got closer to get up and keep moving. Our eyes still fixed on the man lurking behind the trees, glaring at us. We walked as slowly as we felt comfortable, standing as tall and confident as we could, as if we were hoping to stave off an animal attack with our proud posturing. At first I was relieved when I didn't hear him following us as we moved on.

We felt confident enough that we took our eyes off the man, instead fixing our gaze to the trail ahead. Then I heard that shuffling sound of the man yet again giving pursuit, this time with a slower, more rhythmic cadence, like a trot rather than a sprint. We froze again and spun around to spot this man once more standing perfectly still, a bit further back than before, but still visible behind the trees, seemingly undeterred by our display of courage. I whispered harshly to Clarissa to keep going, thinking that our slipping vigilance was to blame for his continued pursuit.

This time he got off to a slight trot, not even bothering to work our way carefully through the underbrush along the trail. For a second, the man appeared to be hanging back and disappeared from my view, and I once again turned my eyes to the trail. This time I couldn't quite suppress a groan of fright when I heard that shuffling in the forest to our left, this time much quicker, like a brisk jog rather than a trot. My eyes were starting to burn and get cloudy with tears as we increased our pace even further, no longer caring if our running was only encouraging. this man. That rustling in the bushes came closer and closer, and Clarissa was now gasping in terror with every step she took. Just as I was about to panic and break into a full-on sprint, the movement in the brush stopped. I almost stopped as well, in astonishment. We slowed down a bit,

frantically glancing around us for any sight of the man chasing us. For a moment we saw nothing. We kept trotting along the trail, hoping that perhaps this man had finally given up his pursuit, noticing that the wind had increased a bit from the earlier stillness. I entertained some vague hopes which finally invaded our pursuer, believing that if we got back to the main trail, we would effectively be in the clear, as had happened the day before. That foul stench from before once again invaded my nostrils. but this time the smell seemed to be coming from somewhere ahead of us in the direction from which the wind was blowing we paused for a second wondering just what was about to happen i crouched and shuffled forward intending to push clarissa to keep going when she spun around gave out a blood-curdling ear-piece and shriek of mortal terror and sprawled backwards away from me as i turned to take her to see what she'd just screamed at. I was violently thrown forward into the dirt, as if somebody had just tackled me, gasping from having the wind knocked out of me, and I felt something strike my backpack with incredible force. I rolled over in a panic to see that to my complete

and utter horror. The man was standing over me as I lay helpless on the ground, gripping a long shaft that I saw was a spear that had pierced right through my backpack. The horrendous stench of this man was unbearable this close, and I finally got a clear, close look at his face. He was gritting his teeth, showing off a sort of crooked, yellowish-brown teeth with numerous cracks, snarling like a wild animal. I could see that his eyes were a remarkable pale blue, but lifeless and dead in expression, like a dog.

As I spun around, I managed to get free of my backpack and shuffle backwards, giving a harsh kick directed right at his knee. The blow connected, but with startling reflexes he absorbed the blow and leap back a short distance, giving a soft, rasping grunt. I scrambled to my feet and shouted to Clarissa to run. We abandoned all pretence of confidence and just sprinted along what we could see of the trail leading out of this place. Clarissa was now screaming continuously as we ran, not caring to save her breath for running, but I couldn't exactly blame her. She stayed ahead of me, gradually getting

farther from me until I was afraid I might lose sight of her. As we ran over a small dip in trail, I stumbled a bit, and right as I began to stand up again, I had a sharp, low, whiz. There's something that flew past my head, only a scant few inches from my right ear. at incredible speed, burying itself in the brush a few feet ahead. Hedern not stumbled at that exact second. I'm confident that object would have connected with the back of my head, and probably pierced right through my skull. I didn't pause to consider how lucky I was,

just kept sprinting after Clarissa, my heart hammering almost painfully against the inside of my chest. Now we were starting to stray off the trail as we ran, never pausing to stop and regain our bearings. I charged around a bend and caught sight of Clarissa only a few yards ahead of me, hearing the man swiftly leap through the underbrush behind us and off to the right. I heard another one of those objects coming whistling out of the forest, striking Clarissa's backpack and spinning her around with its impact,

sending her tumbling to the ground. I ran up to her and firmly dragged her to her feet, seeing that the object had struck her pack was actually some kind of dart, a large dart carved from stone and wood and nearly a foot long, which had nearly gone all the way through the pack. Now we'd gone completely off the trail and strayed into the deep underbrush among the dense stands of trees. We just kept sprinting in the direction we thought our trail led,

hoping that we would eventually stumble upon our destination. The shuffling of the man chasing us, had changed into a long, loping sprint, as if he were jumping through the brush and between the trees rather than simply running. Whoever he was, he must have known of plenty of hidden trails and paths leading through the forest, having no trouble at all keeping up with us. Despite the adrenaline, I could feel my energy starting to wane, and I was struggling quite a bit to keep up my speed running over such rough ground. I was now convinced that I was just just about to die, caught by this man and subjected to God knows what at his hands.

Presumably like all the others who had disappeared in this dark place. I pulled out my knife, hoping that maybe I could mount some kind of final stand if I was caught, and I'll shout into Clarissa to keep going when that horrible odour descended upon me. I felt an enormous weight plough right into the small of my back, the fierce, serious, sensation of a harsh scrape suddenly covered my neck in the back of my head as I collapsed forward into the ground, the weight now pinning me firmly down, and in that moment my mind went utterly blank, as I waited for what I thought would be death. Clarissa had frozen in place in complete horror as the man stood over me once again.

I could barely manage to roll over and regard him before the end. He crouched low over me, grunting loudly, blowing hot, foul-smelling breath into my face. He quickly snapped his attention over to Clarissa, as she screamed in terror, and with a sudden start, he leaped astonishingly high in the air, landing neatly on his feet and sprinting off towards Clarissa. She sprinted off into the forest, no longer caring to follow the trail. I struggled to my feet and called Clarissa's name plaintively, although now she and the man had disappeared from my sight. I wanted to run after them, hoping that I could somehow save her from all this, but I hesitated for a few seconds. For this day, I lament the cowardice I showed in those few critical seconds, where I seriously contemplated taking advantage of this distraction to make my own escape instead. I stayed put for a few seconds, calling her name helplessly.

I then got to my feet and started walking in the direction they'd gone. They were at a much slower pace than I would have needed to catch them up. For several minutes I stumbled through the woods in the direction I thought they'd gone, now racked with guilt over having brought my friend out to this place to die like this. Painful as this guilt was, it did spur my last reserves of energy, and increased my pace. I could no longer hear Clarissa's screams, the fact that made my heart sink precipitously.

I came over the crest of a short hill and saw that I was overlooking a broad, flat gully with steep sides and thick brush along the entire slope. Wondering what I should do now, I followed the top edge of the gully down a short ways, hoping for any sign of where the two would end it up. I finally sank to my knees and for a few despondent minutes I lost my courage and resolved completely. All of this was my fault.

Clarissa had insisted that she come to this place, but I hadn't done nearly enough to discourage her from coming here, especially after yesterday when I knew for a fact that something dangerous was probably lurking out here. I buried my face in my hands and broke down in tears. For several minutes I stayed in this state, convinced that Clarissa was probably dead and that I myself was going to die, and that I probably deserved it for bringing us out to this horrible place. I was startled to suddenly detect a familiar scream, Clarissa's scream, coming from the woods on the other side of the gully. Hearing this, restored my spirits tremendously, even giving her still terrible circumstances,

and I started calling out her name again. Her screams came closer and closer until I finally saw her emerge from the forest on the other side. I shouted her name at the top of my lungs, and for a moment she turned her attention and caught sight of me, visibly relieved. Lewis's relieved expression suddenly became blank, and she pitched forward violently, completely limp, and tumbled face down over the edge of the gully and all the way down into the brush below. I was shocked and utterly petrified by this. I gazed stupidly at where she landed in the brush and disappeared from sight. Barely comprehending what had just happened, I screamed her name in horror,

clinging to some vague hope that she was still okay. I was about to jump over the edge of the gully and go down to her when I saw, standing in the forest just beyond the opposite side, the tall man. He just glared at me with that. moving his hateful gaze pinning me in place for several seconds I slowly backpedaled away from the gully never avoiding his gaze and I just sprinted in the opposite direction leaving my faithful friend and companion to whatever fate

this hunter had in mind I'm ashamed now of what I did leaving Clarissa to this man's mercy like that but I've never claimed to be a particularly strong or brave man and I was filled with such terror that I could only think of getting out of this place. With a newfound energy, I tore through the forest in the general direction of the main trail, never taking my eyes off the area behind me for more than a few seconds. Before too long, however, I heard that same shuffling cadence behind me, knowing that the hunter was clearly intending to catch up to me as well. But now I was resigned to death.

As I ran, I suddenly tripped over a small rise that, to my surprise, and brief joy, was the edge of the main trail. We had straight some ways off the trail, but not as far as I'd feared. I paused for a second, hands on my knees, exulting this favourable sign, hardly paying attention to the footsteps in the forest, rapidly closing in on me. I turned in that direction, standing in place with complete resignation, no longer carrying to run anymore. I saw the hunter slinking and leaping through the brush many yards distant, quickly closing the distance, when he paused in what seemed like confusion. I think perhaps

he hadn't expected me to give up like this, all that the fact I wasn't running anymore didn't trigger his instinct to chase. Instead, I shouted in his direction, bellowing profanities and saying that I didn't care if I lived or died, and challenging him to take up the pursuit again. I gripped my knife tightly, fully intending to put up a fight this time, while the hunter just slowly approached me. His eyes fixed on mine. I don't know if he even understood a word of what I yelled at him, but I just kept yelling and carrying on, hoping that his confusion might give me an opening. When he was about five yards from me, the hunter slunk into a slow stance, like a wild animal preparing to

to pounce. For a few seconds, we glared at one another, clearly not sure who would make the first move. Then, with another rasping grunt, he sprung up and charged at me with all his mind. At that moment, time seemed to slow down to a crawl. But even with this illusion, he appeared to cross the distance with remarkable speed. My inhibition is now gone. I did the first thing I could think of and raised the knife over my shoulder and pitched it like rambo, and the knife streaked through the air and caught him across his stomach. He gave a powerful yelp that startled me out of my petrified state and clasped at his stomach, glaring at me more hatefully than ever. For a few seconds, I thought my idiotic gambit had failed, that I'd only angered him and left myself

without a knife in the process. He seed and spat between his crooked, rotten teeth, had awful stench, seeming to get even worse than it had before. With a furious wail, he suddenly turned around and loat back in the direction from which he'd come, giving off those animalistic grunts as he went. I was stupefied by this for several seconds, hardly believing that this had worked after all. I inch forward to where my knife had landed after skidding across his stomach, and I saw that I had indeed drawn blood with my well throat. Snatched it up off the ground and backed up towards the train. After his sudden retreat, I considered if perhaps I should go back to the gully where Clarissa had fallen, hoping that maybe

I could find her and be sure of her fate. I couldn't. I've been lucky three times now, narrowly escaping death by mere inches. Now that I'd more or less return to my senses, I was sensibly afraid again of trying my luck for a fourth time. Instead, I decided that I would leave the forest, return to town, get help, and hopefully come back with a small army at my back. After all, I had been attacked in the woods, and my friend was probably badly hurt and in serious danger. With this rationale, I ran down the trail to where I'd part my car

and returned to Renovo as fast as I could. I pulled into the nearest sheriff station in town and went in, startling everyone inside with my ragged state and frantic demeanor. Fortunately, my local reputation had preceded me, and the deputies at the station were quite attentive to my report, however frantic and disorganized it was. They advised me to stay put while they put together a search party and investigated the forest,

but I was adamant that I accompanied them. This, they denied, saying that I should instead try to get the scratches on my head and neck looked at by a doctor. The scratches had been deeper than I'd realized, with some amount of blood having trickled down and around my neck. I don't know exactly what made those scratches. If it was some kind of weapon the man carried, or if he had possibly done it with one of his long fingernails. I begrudgingly did as I asked, went by the local clinic. In addition to these scratches, I had a lightly sprained ankle and numerous other cuts and bruises,

as well as a sore back from where I'd been tackled twice. The scratches on my head had become quite tender and painful, and according to the doctor, the wounds were absolutely filthy, lodged with dirt and grime, and he was curious as to just how I'd gotten them. All I could say was I'd been attacked out in the forest, but I didn't say by what? This seemed to satisfy his curiosity for a time. The doctor then cleaned the wounds as best he could, and he even had to put in some stitches on one of them. I got a prescription for some antibiotics in case the infection developed,

and the idea of contracting any infection from that man's filthy fingernails made my skin crawl. After this, I returned to the station to await further news about what had been found in the forest. I would wait there for several hours, anxious and despairing over what had happened to Clarissa, and hoping beyond all reason that she was okay, despite what I'd seen. But around seven o'clock in the evening, the deputies returned to discuss what they'd found. To my confusion and disappointments, they had uncovered nothing. They knew that the two of us had indeed gone up there, but they'd found no trace of Clarissa or the man who'd chased us anywhere. The rest was a blur to me. I was despondent over the deputy's lack of success, and furious that they didn't seem to

really want to search those woods, as if they too had heeded the local rumours about what had happened in the forest. Even though a group their size should have been relatively safe, the legend surrounding Dutchman's Hollow had such a grip on the locals, but even a large search party didn't bolster their confidence. With nothing substantive found to support my story, I was shocked to find that suspicion now fell on me. After all, a young woman was missing, and I'd been the last person to see her alive. According to them, the numerous wounds on my body could have been the result of a struggle between the two of us, not necessarily from a third suspect, although nobody could say for certain just what had happened to her.

I stayed in town for another few days, while they wasted their time accusing me of having something to do with her disappearance, a deeply distressing experience that nearly ruined my interest in being a true crime investigator. After four days spent on searches, they finally found out exactly what had happened took Larissa all those days ago. She was dead. I don't know how I could have expected anything else, but she was definitely dead. According to them,

she was found at the base of a steep slope in the forest. Her body in such a poor shape that it took some time to identify it as hers. The body was missing substantial portions of flesh on the legs and back, a fact that was attributed to predation by scavenger animals. The cause of death was determined to be a severe, severe head wound on the back of her skull, presumably the result of stumbling down the hill and hitting her head on a rock or log, inflicting a fatal injury. And that was it, apparently. Despite my story, the official cause of death was death by misadventure, and the fire was abruptly

closed on the whole thing. Her remains were recovered and delivered to the care of her family, who, as I expected, blame me for what had happened to her, even if they didn't accuse me of foul play. I can't say that I blame them. I wasn't even invited to attend the funeral. I don't think I could have anyway. Thinking of my close friend being in that state, ripped apart by scavenging animals, there's just too much for me to bear. As for me, I was exonerated by this hasty and abrupt conclusion to how she officially died. After all these years, I still don't fully understand why my story was ignored by the authorities, why they just brushed me off after she was found and examined, even when they seemed to believe me wholeheartedly

in those first few hours. For years, I nursed thoughts of a grand conspiracy to suppress any stories about what happens in those woods, a conspiracy that had encompassed generations of locals and the authorities, but after some time I abandoned this thinking. Now, I think they just assumed we were stupid kids who got lost in the woods and one of us got themselves killed by accident or that it was just a wild animal attack, nothing nefarious whatsoever. I don't deny that we were just dumb kids

way in over our heads, but I know just what we found in those woods. Whatever they say, I know that it wasn't just an animal attack, a nightmare horror of wild fantasy. 30 years later, I like to think that this experience horrifying and soul-crushing though it was, help me mature both as a person and as a writer of

true crime. I'm no longer the silly kid who pursued it as a morbid hobby, crusading across the country in search of cheap thrills at the expense of real human tragedies. I learn the respect that the subject demands, and I know what it truly means to serve the public interest, profits or not. But in between my researches for new cases and book material, I still periodically renew my investigation into the mystery surrounding Dutchman's hollow. By now I must have a file four inches thick about it. To this day, people still do disappear in abnormal numbers in the region. Travelers, hitchhikers, loggers, campers, all types that pass through.

In all that time, nobody else has ever shown interest in investigating it besides me. Few people ever referenced the history of it. I still think about what happened in the forest in those grim days of 1989, and I wonder how it all connects to the history of the region. I think about the original settler families, the Macduffs and the Fonda Hiders, and just what could have happened to them all those years ago. Did they really die out in the winter of 1806? Had anybody even bothered to look for them in the time since? Who was the last living descendant of those two families? Or any of the grisly and salacious rumours about them true,

could one of their descendants survive to this day? I remember that passing joke about cannibalism that Clarissa made that day in the library, I remember how they attributed her, ravish remains to be eaten by scavengers. Still think about those things. And I can't help but think that a descendant of the original settlers still lives, that maybe they had to resort to drastic measures to stay alive

in all those harsh winters. Maybe they developed a taste for it, and so do their children, their grandchildren and their great-grandchildren on down. Think about these things, and I remember the tall man with pale blonde hair and the scraggly blonde beard, and my stomach turns when I consider what he planned to do

when he caught us. But I have other reasons for writing this down now. For 30 years I've uncovered precious little new evidence surrounding what happens in Dutchman's Hollow. But all of that has changed in the last few days. I've already told the story of Raymond Hess, the only known survivor of all the people who have ever disappeared in the region,

about how his later years were marred by accusations of involvement in several murders. Accusations never proven. For years I knew nothing about what happened to him or where he went when he left the United States in 1980. Recently, I came into possession of information revealing this exactly. He floated around different countries in Central America, first in Mexico and then Belize, before eventually turning up in Chile several years later. In 1987, he was arrested, charged and convicted of a string of 12 murders in Central Chile,

a region he terrorized for years as a widely feared serial killer, known as the Vampire of Valparaiso. In 1988, while serving a life sentence, he granted an interview to a Colombian psychiatrist named Herberto Zayas, an interview that was videotaped but kept confidential for several decades. I've seen this video. I can't tell you how I managed to get a hold of it, but we rest assured that I did, and it cost me dearly. What follows next is a transcript of the interview, which Hess gave in English. and he describes what exactly happened to him those two weeks he was missing in Dutchman's hollow. The tape was rather poor in quality even for that time, but after several viewings, I'm confident that I have transcribed it in its entirety.

I can't tell you what you should make of what you read. You'll just have to form your own conclusion. Interview Start. This is Dr. Herriberto Zayas. Interview with prisoner-designated CF. 1855334. Name Raymond Hess from United States.

Convicted 191187 for murder. Sentenced a life term. Ah, can you speak into the microphone, please, Mr. Hess? Yeah. Hello. Ah, good. So, Mr. Hess,

I have some questions for you here, but I may ask some others as we go along. Is that all right? sure Excellent So Mr. Hess You are from

United States Verda Correct Yes That's correct Where in the United States I mean Where did you live

Um I'm originally from Pennsylvania Altoona actually I see Is it a nice place Yeah Good place I kind of miss it

I'm sure you do You grew up there Yep Do you wish you could go back Yeah, all the time I can't though Why not? You have family there, right? I just can't

Can't go back to America at all Some shit happened back there I just can't go back What happened? Could your family help you? He can't help me. I just can't go back. Not to them. Not to anybody. But why not?

Mr. Hess? I can't go back because... For because... The same reason I'm in jail right now in this country. You have a criminal record in America? Yeah, I've been accused of stuff. But I never got in jail for anything. What were you accused of?

Same stuff I'm in jail for right now. You were accused of murder, of cannibalism. Something like that, yeah. I see. Well, I have some other questions as well about you personally. Is that okay? Yeah, sure. Doesn't matter.

Okay, well, can you tell me about your childhood, your parents? What about them? They were okay. So they were good to you. Caring, loving? Yeah, they were fine. Never hit me or anything, except when I had it coming. And the rest of your family, how were they?

Good, I guess. I have an older brother. Were you close to him? Yeah, sure. Usual brother stuff. What sort of brother stuff? Usual stuff Walk me to school

Helping me with bullies Playing catch That kind of stuff Wasn't anything fucked up If that's what you're getting at No, it's fine I see what you mean Sure you do

Well then Let's talk about your school How was school Okay, pretty much I wasn't that good at it You had difficulty in your classes Sometimes, sure Were you ever mocked, made fun of for not doing well?

No, we don't think so. You mentioned bullies earlier. Sometimes, nothing too bad. I see, well... It was all pretty normal. Come again, Mr. Hess. I said it was normal. My childhood, I mean.

I didn't have a fucked up childhood or anything. It was normal. Above board, nothing weird or sinister or anything like that. Hmm, I see, so... Look, man, I know you're trying to get into my childhood and all that, but there's nothing there. I know I'm in jail for some bad stuff, but I'm not Ted Bundy or the fucking zodiac or something. I'm a normal guy. Well, I used to be pretty normal.

see. You said you used to be normal. Yeah, I guess I did. What do you mean by this? Mr. Hess? Should we continue? Yeah, I could tell you

about it, maybe. Can't say you're going to believe it, but I'll tell you. Don't you go telling everybody else about it, huh? I'll just think you are not, so something. Okay, Mr. Hess. I'm serious, man. If you're just going to rip me off as a nut job, then I'm done here.

No, that's not what I'm suggesting, Mr. Hess. I'm not a real bad guy, okay? I'm not a psycho or anything. Yeah, I've done some nasty shit, but none of it's really about me. I understand how you feel, Mr. Hess. But you say these things. Your crimes, they speak for themselves, no? What did I just say?

I ain't fucking lunatic. I said none of that stuff is really about me. Please, calm down. You say it's not about you. What do you mean by this? I... Look, I'll explain it. But you gotta listen real close, you know.

I mean, look, imagine like a coyote or something. You got coyotes here, right? Yes, we do. Right. Well, imagine a coyote. He's real hungry. So he goes out, catches and kills a little baby bunny. Sounds bad, right? On face value, I mean. Kills a little bunny, eats it.

But we don't all get pissed off about a coyote eating a little bunny, do we? He's got to eat too. Everybody's got to eat. I got to eat. It's life. You just take what comes to you, watch you catch, and you end up living another day because the alternative to living is even worse. I understand your meaning, Mr. Hess, but... But what?

You don't sound like you get it. I understand, but... You say that you must do these things because... You must eat? Yeah. That's not so fucking hard, is it? Mr. Hess, you are in prison because you killed and ate many people. You say you must eat, but...

Why like this? There is other food, is there not? These people, they have lost family. You cannot understand why you are here? You think I don't know there's other food out there? You think I don't at least try eating it? Because I do. It ain't the same. It just ain't. I couldn't live only on ribby steaks anymore than I could live on eating only dog turds. And I fucking try. Back home, I tried with pork chops. I heard that's almost like eating people, you know. I'd take these pork chops and just wail on them with a meat tenderizer, trying to get him real soft, you know.

I thought I thought I was getting real close, too, but it just didn't work. But why? Why do you have to eat only human flesh? You can't live your whole life this way. You'd have to kill a man every day to live only on that. I try to get by on what I can Don't think I don't try I tried the poachups

I tried steak and chicken and duck I found a guy in Valparaiso who can get all kinds of meat Even that African bush meat Like monkeys and that kind of shit Illegal stuff And it was close man But there ain't nothing close enough

To live on forever That stuff could get me by for weeks Maybe a few months and when I couldn't stand it no more, I just had to have the real deal. You don't get it, man. I feel like if I don't have that stuff, I'll just die. You mean to say you're addicted to eating it?

It ain't quite like that, man. It ain't like drugs. Junkies can just quit that stuff for long enough that they get over it. I tried. I couldn't. Not even after six months. It's not an addiction. It's the hunger. The hunger. What is that?

What it sounds like, man, is the hunger. You can't fight it forever. Once you get it, it doesn't go away. You always get hungry for that one thing. Nothing else fills the whole. If you can't have it, you starve. Well, you feel like you're starving, but only worse. You feel like you'll just turn inside out

if you can't get it, like the whole goddamn universe will cave in on you if you don't feed it. You think this is why you must eat human meat? I don't think I have it. I have it. I got it years ago. Nothing makes it go away. You feed it for a time and it goes down inside you for a while. But you always know it'll be bad. What caused you to get this hunger? Shit I know I think I know

What was it? It wasn't always like this man I was normal I was a good person Shit like this shouldn't have happened to me It happened back in America Eleven years ago Almost a third of my whole life

Go on You know Not a lot of people can say there's One moment One exact moment where absolutely everything in your whole life changes. I was just driving down the road late one night. Normal thing.

Something I've done a thousand times or more, just driving through one of the state forests in Pennsylvania on my way to my next job. And I was happy, you know. I didn't give a damn about anything. A job here, a job there. Spaned some dough in the local bar. That was my life.

Now I can't remember what it felt like. driving along the road, and I saw this guy just lying there on the side of the road. Look like he was dead or something. Kind of dirty guy, long-hand, scruffy beard. So I thought he was just a bum or something. So I figured, hey, I'll be a good guy today. I'll stop and see if this guy's hurt or something. If I was down on my luck like this guy, I'd want someone to help me out.

Pulled off the road to go check on him, and I'm leaning over him, and something just knocks my lights out. I didn't see what. I come to maybe a minute later. No shit, I'm hawk-tide. Been dragged by my feet through the woods, facing the dirt. I had no idea just what the hell I'd walked into. So, I started yelling and carrying on.

Trying to get a good look at who's doing this. But it's dark, and I can't lean up to get a good look. Then I start thinking about what's going on. I mean, I got ambushed. I'm getting dragged through the woods all tied up. I don't know where I'm going. So, I'm thinking I'm about to get roped into some kind of shit from deliverance or something. Like I'm going to get raped or tortured by some fucking hell people.

You were kidnapped? Well, yeah, I didn't volunteer to go with this guy. This guy was walking real fast, too. And I feel like my face is going to look like an old tie by the time we get that. eventually we do and get choked into this cave or dug out or something and I'm just left there still tied up I'm like this for days

for days just pissing and shit in my own pants not that I had much to piss or shit because I wasn't getting food or water every couple hours this guy that same bum I found on the side of the road just comes in and kicks a shit out of me doesn't say a word either You'd be in there for close to an hour, just throwing rocks at me or pouring water on me.

And then he'd start kicking me and hitting me with his long stick. Does this routine for days. Torture is a very traumatic event. I can imagine you still have some issues from it. Oh, that was just a warm-up. One day he comes in, and I'm expecting more of the same. Seity picks me up and drags me off somewhere else. This time it's a shack or something, kind of wedged in next to the hill.

Looks like some place a witch would live. Takes me in there and I'm expecting he's going to kill me, rape me, or something like that. Instead, he shows me something that looks like a slaughterhouse or something. Just full of meat hanging on hooks. Dead animals, all kind of dead things. And it fucking stank, too. It felt like they were sticking my head down and out. house. Pops me up against a wall. He takes some kind of meat off the wall and starts hacking away at it with

this big cleaver, except it's made out of sticks and rocks or something, like something a caveman would use. He's flinging their stuff everywhere, getting little bits of blood and flesh all over the place. Even on me, you say it was full of meat. Yeah. See where this is going? anyhow he's making me watch while he chops his stuff up and he pulls me over and cocks my head back and he picks up this bit of meat he's been chopping he stuffs it right into my mouth god it was fucking gross you ever read raw meat it's nasty and i don't know what the hell kind of meat that was either i tried to spit it out because i don't know what he's trying to do and that just pisses him off even worse.

Pretty soon I'm getting the usual treatment, beaten half to death and not eating what this guy is trying to make me eat. I get thrown back in the dugout. The next day he repeats the same thing. Every day he's got some new kind of meat he wants me to try. At first, I try spitting it out, but, you know, I was there for days without food or water. This time I'm getting real hungry. Maybe not hungry enough to actually eat that shit, but now I'm thinking about it.

So every day, I'm in there. It makes me eat some disgusting meat. It kicks a shit out of me if I put up a fight. But you ate it eventually? Yeah, I did. Anyone who's gone hungry a day in their life knows what that felt like. When you're that hungry, you don't really think straight. So one day, he gets me to actually chew and swallow some of it.

So that was a slight improvement, according to him, because he didn't beat the hell out of me afterwards. Then one day, he tosses me back into the dugout for the night. But this time, he leaves me there for days again, except now he doesn't turn up at all. I keep figuring, I'm going to take advantage of this, try to make my escape. But I'm tied up so tight there's no way I work out something in time.

even after a couple days. But you did escape, no? Sort of. I got out of it anyways, but after a couple of days, he shows up out of nowhere and drags me back up to his little slaughterhouse. I'm starving at this point,

so I don't put up a fight. Instead, when I get there, I see... I see... Are you all right, Mr. Hess? Do you need a moment? I'm fine. He sets me down and I see this. This young girl, maybe 14 years old, tied up just like I was, sitting right across from me. But she's awake. So she sees what's going on. God, she was just petrified. Crying, moaning. But she couldn't talk because he had something stuck over her mouth, like some kind of transparent, like some kind of animal guts. But it was. stretched out so you could see through it.

This man, this freaking butcher, he comes in and she just loses it. So, I got no clue what he's planning, but I might have some idea. I think he's just going to do the same thing as before, making us eat more meat.

But he doesn't. He just stares at both of us for a few minutes. He takes the girl and slams her head down on the carving board. This time, I do put up a fight because I know he's going to do something to this girl. He could kill me for all I gave a shit, but I didn't want something to happen to her.

He leans over and kicks me in the stomach. Then he takes his giant cleaver and... God, he starts in on her, chopping her head off. He's real sloppy too. Didn't take her head off right away. He just hacks away at her neck. and she's screaming as much as she can, but the cleaver chops through her throat. Must have taken him ten swipes to do it.

That's horrible. I can't imagine how you felt seeing that. No, you can't. But that wasn't the worst of it. He starts chopping all over, taking off bits of meat right where I can see it. Do you understand? Now I can actually see where the meat's coming. from? This time it isn't that mystery meat he was given me the last few days. He pulls off a big strip right from her back, skin and everything, and he fuses it down my throat. I can't spit it out.

He holds my mouth shut. I have to swallow a chunk of meat right off the girl he just kills. The girl I saw killed. He takes a piece of meat and he sits in front of me. We do this, back and forth. for hours. He lit up a fire at one point. He started roasting the bits he cut off. He'd eat some, then he'd force me to eat some. For hours. Until there wasn't anything left.

Just a body with all the meaty bits stripped off. Not a skeleton, you see. Like a skeleton that still has all the tendons, the cuttage, all the bits of meat that can be eaten, some of the organs too. Good God. is this true? This actually happened to you.

I wouldn't just make this shit up, man. You think I'm just telling stories. Trying to fuck with you? No. You asked for the truth and there it is. Told you was hard to believe. Didn't think things like this happened. You sure shit didn't think it would happen to me.

But, well, happens to somebody, I guess. How did you get it? get out of this? Well, he shot me back in the dugout, leaving me to digest it. I tried to throw it up. I tried. I thought for sure I'd vomit after seeing this, but I couldn't. I was just too hungry. Left me shacked up for days, remember? That was the first thing I'd eaten for days. Can't help if I was freaking starving. But he left me there after that. I guess he was satisfied. One day I wake up and the ropes are off me. I think it's some kind of trick.

But look round and I don't see him anywhere. He's gone and the ropes are off me. And God damn it, I still wanted to live. So I ran out of there. I just ran and ran until I found myself wandering along the side of a road. That was where the cops picked me up and I found out people were looking for me. You didn't tell anybody what happened.

You could have saved some lives if a killer was on the loose. I was out of my freaking mind when I came out of that. I didn't want to talk about any of it. I wasn't even sure it really happened. If it did, well, what would I say? I mean, they might have believed me. Maybe I didn't have anything to lose by telling them. Time kept passing by and, for the time I was ready to talk,

didn't know if anyone would have listened. I still got some trust issues. I was afraid they'd think I'd made it up, especially as I'd waited so long to tell anyone. I already told everybody I didn't remember what happens, and that was around the time I first started feeling it. I started feeling it. It, you mean these tendencies? Yeah, the hunger. That's where I got it.

You know, I thought it was all bullshit. All those stories about people eating human flesh and getting obsessed with it. it, but it happened to me. It wasn't bullshit after all. That fucking freak in the woods turned me, man. He gave it to me. I'm pretty damn sure he did it on purpose too. Like he wants other people to get it. Why? Why does somebody want that? He ruined my life. The hunger ruined my life. The only life I've got. Now I'm here in this hell hole. And I'll never get to feed again. I can't possibly live like that. I'm tainted.

Now I can't do the only thing that will keep me alive. Don't lose hope, Mr. Hess. There is treatment available for your condition. It's purely psychological. You don't need to eat human flesh to survive. With treatment, this condition will not control your life. No. I'm not worth it.

I'm pretty damn sure there is no cure. for this. Doesn't matter anyways. I'm gonna die in this place. Unless you think the judge believes otherwise. Any illness is worth treating, Mr. Hess. You don't have to lose your quality of life, even in these circumstances. Look, I'm tired, and I'm done. I don't want to talk anymore. That's the truth. I'm just tired.

Just think what you want. I'm finished with all of it. You got all this on film, don't you? Just watch it again. I'm done. I'm... I'm just done. That's all, folks.

Mr. Hess, are you sure... The tape ends. The next day after this interview, Raymond Hess, American citizen, convicted of multiple murders and incarcerated in a Chilean prison, was murdered by a fellow inmate, ostensibly in self-defense.

According to this inmate, El Americano attacked him without provocation in a prison corridor, attempting to bite him before being stabbed and beaten in return. So ended the sad, sorry life of Raymond Hess, devoured whole by the silent suffering that would drive him to claim the lives of many others. Few would mourn the passing of the vampire of Valparaiso, but prison legend would keep his memory alive, legends of a vicious cannibal that once stalked the halls, threatening to feast upon the flesh of any unfortunate enough to cross his path.

If you would ever know the true origin of this legend, viewers still would believe it. But this world has dark corners that few would expect, and I sincerely hope that one day I will live to see the legend of Dutchman's Hollow come to its end. I grew up in a small town in the Midwest, While there's a great variety of outdoor hobbies to immerse oneself in, little happens around here, and life can quickly start to feel mundane. Let's just say that the local university is what keeps us on the map.

Regardless, it's a place filled with many fond memories of my childhood, carrying throughout my adolescence and early adulthood. I liked it so much that I decided to stick around after graduating high school to further my education. While most of my friends I grew up with, wanted to get away as far as possible, I held a very strong attachment to where I came from. I just felt like it would always be my home. Growing up, I had some abandonment and trust issues. My mother died in the process of giving birth to me, and my father never was able to overcome the grief brought upon by the tragedy.

Deep down, I felt a horrible guilt that I took her away from this world and from my father. I felt like my old man looked at me with feelings of resentment that constantly battled the natural love felt for his own child. All of this proved too much for him and he left when I was barely a teenager.

I remember coming home after school one day to an empty house and sitting around waiting in vain, waking up the next day and not having a ride to school. I don't know where he went or what became of him, but I was lucky enough to have to have a little. some caring grandparents who took me in and helped support me through all of it.

They raised me up through high school and were even kind enough to pay for higher education as they were close to retirement with a lot of money saved up. Despite all of their help, my early college years were spent dealing with some serious issues pertaining to substance abuse, primarily alcohol. While a lot of kids drink in college, sometimes excessively, it was a growing problem that sat festering in the deepest part of my brain that I was too afraid to face. I hated myself for tearing apart what would have been my family. It was very difficult to get by in my day-to-day activities without pumping my body full of substance.

At the time, it was the only thing I knew was capable of easing my restless, skeptical mind. My grades would slip as I embarked on week-long drinking binges, all the while neglected. to go to class. I'd barely pull through by the skin of my teeth after digging myself into a hole. I don't know how I passed any classes to be honest.

Every night was spent draining bottles while I stewed in the corner of my room convincing myself that my life was somehow worse than it really was and that I was justified in my own self-destruction. For a while, the only thing that brought me joy was watching myself suffer

to ensure that my masochistic driven desires were completely satisfied. Well, needless to say, it was a very rough and confusing part of my life. While attending one of my classes, I met the woman who would help me stray away from my disgusting addictions. I still remember walking into the lecture hall and seeing her sitting by herself, enjoying whatever song was playing in her headphones. I chuckled to myself as she did. didn't care who saw her dance in her silly way. Well, after a few months into the semester, I finally worked out the courage to approach her, and I'll never forget her looking up at me

and saying, well, look who decided to show up, a clever smirk shining on her face. I was surprised and flattered. She'd noticed me at all. I'd been absent for around a week, and after my teacher, threatening to fail me, I was finally able to drag myself. there. A long dark hair swam around her shoulders and back, and her soft brown eyes flushed optimism through me. She reached out her hand. I'm Mary, she said to me, confidence exuding from her. A hangover pounding in my head. I reached out my hand and was instantly hooked once our hands clasped. I got to talking to her, and she was the sweetest, most delightful human being I'd ever met. Her bright, inviting personality diffused any cynicism that I ever attempted to let out. I won't bore you with

all the details of our relationship, but over our last few years of college, we grew very close, and I was certain she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I proposed to her during our senior year, not wanting to waste any time in locking her down. Though sometimes were worse than others, finding Mary is really what helped me pull myself out of the darkness. While others are judged and looked down on me from my reprehensible behavior, Mary never saw them as opportunities to exude her own moral superiority on me. Rather, she just saw someone struggling to cope with their demons and provided nothing but kindness and understanding, does she help me through some of the worst times? She eventually helped me stop

drinking altogether, which led to me having an easy ride through the rest of college. My grades improved. I had more energy, and I was so grateful to be able to find joy in life that wasn't garnered from the handle of a bottle or the chamber of a pipe. She was the ying to my yang, and effortlessly helped me to see the joy in life, while kindly attempting to shift my irrational negative views of the world. She truly helped me become a better person, and I was the luckiest guy in the world to have found her when I did. After graduation finally came and went, I was able to land a job with the local university in the marketing division. Mary graduated with me, and she was adamant towards moving past this town and setting up somewhere else, but I resisted.

I guess I just didn't want to leave. I was able to convince her that we should just find a cheap rental and save up some money before we decided to move on. While this wasn't a bad reason, really, for sticking around, my ulterior motive remained staying put. Again, I just felt as though this would always be my home. As we coasted through the beginning of our summer, life appeared to be nothing but a breeze.

I had a great woman on my side, a decent paying job where I'd be starting soon, and I did it all in the town I'd grown up in. All of my friends had moved away, and while some were struggling and some weren't, I didn't envy their insatiable need to travel and explore. I mean, I had everything I could ever need right here. In early June, my grandparents retired, and were in the process of moving to a quiet lakehouse a few hours away. due to this I had the choice between moving with them for a while

or starting a life on my own with the woman I loved I'd made it through all of this and I had great confidence in myself that I was ready to brave the world Mary found an ad in the newspaper disclosing a rental home out in the country for a price that I thought seemed way too good to be true three bedrooms

two full baths and a screened-in back porch that overlooked a large amount of land for just $600 a month. Seemed ridiculous. While I was skeptical at first, I thought we should at least give it a look. An offer like this was worth at least giving a chance. After all, we were both pretty eager to move into our first term together, so we promptly called the number listed to set up a meeting the following day at the house.

A few days later, it was time for our meeting, and I quickly realized that this place was very out of the way, about 30 minutes outside of town. All right, I thought, as I drove further into the boonies, the forest enveloping me as I went on. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, I thought, considering the monthly fee that Mary had previously told me, so I tried to remain optimistic.

However, that optimism was all but gone when I pulled into a dishevelled driveway leading to a house. house that could stage is your stereotypical drug den from the movies. The house stood alone, surrounded by a plethora of trees, with a few houses scattered just barely in view where the neighbours must have resided. I wouldn't have believed it was the right address had it not been for the sight of Mary's Pontiac Sunfire in the driveway as I had pulled in. I let out an apprehensive sigh as I turned off my car and made my way to the front door of the house. While I was approaching it, I realised it was even worse than my first impression served.

Two-by-fours were nailed into the walls to cover holes in the house's exterior, and it sat within a yard so overgrown and neglected that I wouldn't have believed anyone had lived there for years. Oh, great, I thought. Before I could enter the house, I was greeted by men. I was greeted by men. he swinging open the front door to pull me inside with excitement. While the outside appeared to be in shambles, the interior wasn't so bad in contrast. New furniture laid throughout the rooms with pristine walls and polished floors. It even had a washer, drier and dishwasher,

a few things you really miss while in college. I was a little thrown off by this, wondering if I'd entered the same house I was just looking at, but I figured it wasn't worth overthinking. Plus, I guess for the crazy low price, I couldn't really complain too much. If anything, it would give me some outdoor projects to work on for the rest of the summer. Mary led me into the kitchen that sat just before the large screened porch that the ad disclosed. He opened the sliding door leading to it, and the landlord sat there waiting.

He was a middle-aged man, probably around 45 or so, with short grey hair and a weathered face. he quickly stood up and I was taken aback by his imposing height, standing at least six foot eight with a lanky, wiry build. He reached out a hand and introduced himself as Derek. He had an erratic, almost paranoid aura about him, as his eyes darted warily around the house while he spoke to me. He rushed us through a tour of the entire place, barely giving us any chances to see inside the rooms as he made trivial small talk with us. The tour ended as quickly as it began. I felt like I barely

got a look into any of the rooms. I could barely get a questioning before he would shoot across the room to the next, disregarding my inquiries. You guys can stick around and check it out for a bit while you decide. You can give me a call once you've made a decision. Also, there's a spare key underneath a door mat. Just lock up once you leave. He said to us, before he seemed to rush out of the house. I thought it was pretty strange that it would be so trusting as to just leave us there alone

while revealing the location of the spare key. We sat there a little perplexed by the guy's behaviour, but he seemed like a nice enough guy, and this place was a steeler. We sat on the back porch, and after some discussion, we decided that having a place like this,

for such a low price, would be worth it, despite the commute and the exterior being in less than stellar condition. We called Derek the next day and locked it down. Fast forward a week, and we'd begun the arduous process of moving into a new house. I really didn't have that much baggage,

aside from my clothes, TV, Xbox and we. Mary, being the collector she was, carry the majority of our luggage as we made several trips to and from town to bring everything in. If the house hadn't been so far away, And if we'd had more than a relative's truck to haul everything, it would have gone a lot smoother. But in the end, we got it all there no problem. We unpacked our stuff as quickly as possible, and spent the rest of the day decorating and rearranging the house.

I helped out by dragging the heavier furniture across the house, as Mary laid out her stuff in her preferred order. The house was really coming together, and our excitement slowly grew as our new home was taking shape piece by piece. We were finally settled in, and I was in such a state of contentment. As Mary was wrapping up her unpacking adventure, I decided to zone out in some video games in the living room that sat on the opposite end of the house to our bedroom. Mary had to be up at the crack of dawn for her current job, as a server at a local coffee shop, and me, being a bit of a night owl, didn't want to disturb her rest. I sat up late in the living room, playing one of my face.

favorite games, Resident Evil 4 on my dusty old wee. Hours went by, and 2 a.m. came, but I felt restless, so I decided to switch on some Netflix, and maybe fade to sleep on the couch. I awoke with a sudden sense of urgency. Being in a new place for the first time, I was a little disoriented by my surroundings, but laughed it off as I came to. I checked my phone, and saw it was a little past five 30 a.m. and reluctantly pulled myself off of the couch. I stretched, but was startled as a large moth flew just in front of my face. I swip my hands aggressively as I was starting to fully awaken. What the hell's that doing in here? I asked myself as I flipped on the lights.

When I did, though, I saw dozens of varying insects fluttering throughout the living room. What the heck? I muttered to myself. myself. My sense is rebooting. I heard the loud hum of frogs, accompanied by the distinct chirping of crickets and birds coming from behind me. I turned towards the origin of these sounds, as I made my way out of the living room, to see the sliding glass door to our porch wide open. And I left that open by accident, I thought. As I approached the doorway, I was met with the unmistakable smell of burning tobacco. I stopped for a moment, just a moment. Just just a few feet in front of the open door, in confusion, as Mary didn't smoke, at least, to my knowledge.

I took a few steps onward, before that large moth flew just past my head, his leathery wings grazing the back of my neck as it broke free into the open. I stared out into the darkness that swarmed around the porch, and could see the flickering, orange glow of a cigarette, displaying itself with certainty in the pitch black. "'Mary?' I called out. No response. "'Mary!' I repeated with a bit more assertiveness. Again, silence.

I was starting to feel uneasy when I wondered if I might be dreaming. I heard a light exhale, as thick smoke was illuminated around the small amount of light that the burning ember provided. The smell was too real, and the sounds of the outside were too detailed for this to be. a dream. Mary, I caught out once more into the darkness, only to be met with silence once again. It was at this point that all the sounds of birds, crickets and frogs, had ceased. A wave of fear swept over me, as the silence became a presence all of its own. Backing up, I quickly slid the door shut and locked it.

What are you doing? I nearly had a heart attack as I heard Mary's voice come from the doorway of our bedroom in a groggy tone. My eyes shot back through the glass door, but the light of the cigarette was no longer there. I didn't know what to say, so I just told her I was getting some fresh air. My heart jumped again as the sound of Mary's alarm blared into the quiet morning. Well, go to sleep, dummy. It's too late and early for you to be upright now. My gaze, though, was still mostly focused outside.

I have to get ready, so why don't you just go lay down, you freak? I laughed and gave her a kiss before making my way to the bed. Still a little uneasy over what had just happened. I thought how sometimes people just have waking nightmares, and the fact that I was barely awake and reassured me of this, and I was able to force myself to sleep. When I woke up the next day, I immediately made my way towards the porch to look for any sign of an unwanted visitor. I slid the door open and paced my way around, searching for a cigarette butt or anything of the sort to show myself that I wasn't crazy.

I practically turned the whole area upside down, but it was showing to be a fruitless effort, as all I found was an empty porch. But as I stood outside, something hit me. I'd just woken up on the couch again. Not my bed. Dread washed over my body as I rushed to our bedroom to find a note on the bed from Mary. Try to say by to you this morning, but you never came to bed.

I couldn't get you to wake after I found you on the couch. You were really knocked out. Don't stay up so late playing those video games, okay? I'll see you later today, so have a nice morning. I sat there in the bedroom, dumbfounded. So, was it really just a dream? I thought to myself. I was so confused.

I like the weight of my body collapse onto the bed, and I fished out a book of poetry that Mary had given me a year or so ago. I'm not a poet or anything, but some nights when I feel particularly depressed or anxious. Mary would read various poems while comforting me. I know this sounds cheesy, but having someone read me stories had a very soothing quality to it, like a caring mother reading stories to her child before bed. I'll always pull out this book when I'm feeling myself slipping,

as it reminds me of the love that she provided for me as the words were permanently associated with comfort and bliss. I flip to one of my favourites, written by Bruce, Diana Stockham, one that is my constant go-to when I start feeling down. Where'd you go, self? Where are you? Are you hiding away, or too afraid to shine through? Why don't you come around anymore?

Did you get swept up in the world? Did it? My reading was halted as Mary came through the front door, her face lighting up the room as she hopped onto the bed next to me to plan a kiss in the middle of my face. I laughed as she jumped on top of me and started to tickle and pinch my sides. Even though she was up at dawn

and likely had to deal with ungrateful customers at her workplace, she was still able to come through the door with no thought but making me happy. We laid on the bed and talked for a few minutes before I got up to make her some lunch. After I'd brought her her food and set up her favourite TV show, I decided that it was a good time to head outside

to change the view of our house into something presentable. I went out to the yard a few minutes later, quickly starting to bake in the scorching hot sun, mowing the yard and removing the comical amount of overgrowth surrounding the base of the house. After trimming some bushes down and ripping out some old dead ones, I suddenly felt the distinct feeling of being watched. I don't know how to describe how it came about, but my eyes proceeded to sweep over the surrounding area.

I expected to see a person nearby, watching their new neighbour and waiting for an opportunity to approach, giving me a welcome to the neighbourhood. I was surprised when my eyes fell near the adjacent tree line to see a dog, standing roughly 70 yards away at the edge of the nearby forest. Oh, just a dog, the animal lover in me thought, so I realized who was looking at me from a distance. I caught out and whistled for it to come over, but it didn't so much as flinch. Well, I thought, not really thinking much of it, and turned back to my yard work, hoping to make the most of my weekend by being as productive as possible to restore my crack house of a home.

I work for a few more hours. trimming the remaining brush that infested the perimeter of the house until the sun made its way back down to the horizon. As I called it a day and fanned the front of my shirt to cool off, I glanced to the edge of the forest, where I had originally seen my furry admirer, and I was overcome with a sense of dread. There it was. This dog hadn't seemed to have moved a muscle since I last looked at it was just standing there, calm and stoic, looking right at me. An uneasy feeling gripped me, but curiosity trumped my instincts, and I started to make my way

towards the cusp of the forest, hoping to instill some sort of reaction. As I got closer, I started to realize how intimidating this dog was. It was quite large, not massive what or a circus attraction or anything, but probably around 100 pounds, more or less, with long, sturdy legs and scruffy jet-black hair hanging off of an athletic frame. It almost looked like a wolf, but just not quite enough to distinguish it as such. The best way I can describe it is if you mixed an Irish wolfhound and a full-blooded wolf that came out all black. I got to within 50 feet of it, when I started to feel that sense of dread intensify. I don't know why I felt this at the time, but as the details of its

appearance became more clear, I saw that it was dirty, its hair appearing scraggly and unkempt. While it was already a big dog, it seemed to carry a presence that was larger than life. It just sat there, not phased by my advances, sitting so still that it seemed to be made of stone. The sun was all but completely set by this point, and it was almost as if some outside force had stopped me dead in my tracks. I stared at it, and it stared right back at me. Its eyes were unlike anything I'd ever seen. They glowed, an electric, vibrant yellow, and I could feel them cut deep. I was frozen.

I continued to stare into its eyes, filling me with feelings of misery. and hatred. I just don't know how else to describe it. All I could think was that there was an intelligence that it possessed that was far outside the norm. It looked at me as if it knew who I was, like it knew all of my deepest dreams and fears, and proceeded to cast a cloud of resentment over them. As it stood there, rigid and unblinking, I noticed that the sun was fully set. and that night had arrived. Breaking the trance I was in, I began to back away. I kept my eyes locked on it,

as I did so in case it decided to go on the offensive, being that I may have been encroaching on its territory. Once I got some good distance on it and approached the house, I turned around and made my way to the front door. I looked back before grabbing the doorknob, but at this point it was too dark to make out its figure. Must have gone back to his lair, I said to myself with a chuckle, trying to laugh off my creepy little experience.

Walking back into the house, I was immediately greeted by Mary, with a great deal of worry in her face and tongue. Where have you been? I was really starting to get worried. What do you mean? I asked. I was just out doing some work in the yard. She looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. "'How could you have been doing that? "'Please, just tell me what's up.' "'I wasn't sure what she was talking about.'

"'I pulled out my phone, only to be dumbstruck "'at the time read 11.35 p.m.' "'What is that possible?' I muttered under my breath. "'The sun had only just gone down "'before I made my way back to the house.' "'Just then, the side of that dog's gaze flashed in my mind, and I felt my body twinge with discomfort. I don't know what she were doing, or if something's wrong, but please be honest with me,

if there's something on your mind. Mary said to me, while placing a soft hand on the back of my neck. I'm okay, I told her, placing my hand on hers. I just went on a little stroll to check out the area, and clear my mind. I felt awful telling a lie right to Mary's face like this. But I seriously didn't know what else to tell her. I was as worried as she was, but I didn't want her to think I was going crazy. We quickly moved on and proceeded to take advantage of our weekend. Not having anything to do the next day, we stayed up late watching studio Ghibli movies and drinking wine together.

Once 3 a.m. rolled around. We decided it was time to turn in, not wanting our sleep schedule to get too out of whack. That night, I recall feeling very restless. Despite the generous amounts of wine I'd engorge myself with, I tossed around in bed for what felt like forever. When I finally managed to fall asleep, I experienced a dream that was uncomfortably vivid.

It started with me struggling to pick myself up off the ground, to see I was on a painfully long and dark stretch of road. I know this sounds weird, but I remember feeling extremely cold. I could see my breath and feel the ends of my fingers numbing quickly. Putting my hands to my mouth to breathe in warmth, my eyes ran along the centre of the road ahead of me. There weren't any houses nearby to discern that I was in a residential area,

nor any visible trees that may have indicated that I was along a back-road highway. However, what I did see were two faint lights. off in the distance, so far out that I had almost mistaken them as fireflies. If the road hadn't been so barren, then the surrounding area seeming non-existent, there's no way I would have even noticed them. I rubbed my hands together, letting the friction ease my freezing palms, and I stared at the distant glow. I tried to make something out of them,

but it was too difficult to tell exactly how far away they were since I had nothing to scale it with. They could have been a few hundred feet away, or even a few miles, or what I could tell. I didn't know what all of this meant, or what was going on, but I felt a deep longing to reach these lights,

whether to find my way out of this dense shadow, or maybe to find that it was a warm house in which I could shelter myself from the elements. I took my first step, and I stopped. Once my foot planted, I felt a deep, raspy growl emanate from the darkness that laid behind me. I snapped my head back with the instinct exuded by an unlucky prey, and I felt the temperature drop even further.

I focused my vision with great effort, but I couldn't seem to see anything behind me from which this growl may have come from. Nothing but shifting, oily blackness sat behind me, dancing and contorting as it mocked my efforts to discover what it held. I wanted to speak, but all I could do was let my mouth fall open to let a meek whimper slide out. This was a sound I didn't recognise at first, but it was one that must have been pulled out of me by whatever presence was lingering in the dark. I stood there for what felt like hours, stuck in place while the frigid air crushed my body. The suspense was beginning to gnaw at me

As I internally begged for something to happen As the cold air all but pulverized me to a speck of dust I sat there waiting Suddenly I felt an abrupt shift And heard the accelerating mass of a large animal Begin crashing its way towards me I immediately turned back towards the two lights in the distance Now offering themselves as my heart

only sanctuary, and I ran. I ran faster and harder than I ever had in my life, feeling my ankles and knees absorb at each smack of my feet hitting the dense concrete below me. This wasn't the stereotypical dream where, no matter how fast you ran, you couldn't move more than the speed of a slug. No, I could run well, exceptionally well, actually. I felt myself flying through the air with the speed I didn't know I possessed, but those lights never seemed to get any closer. I was certain that, at any moment, I was going to be a meal for whatever trailed me. Every time I look back, I saw nothing but darkness keeping its pace with me. I thought that surely I would eventually reach my safe haven that sat ahead, but it felt

as if I was running into oblivion. minutes dragged on and on as I made my seemingly futile dash but I dared not stop in fear of what would present itself if I did I probably run for miles but somehow I never grew tired my pace never slowed and my pursuer never seemed to stray I almost wanted to stop and just put an end to this horror but the lights ahead were the only thing keeping me from giving up as The minutes seemed to turn into hours. I looked closer at these lights and noticed they seemed to be further away from where they'd started.

I didn't want to see it, but their glow was slowly fading. Even though at this point I was certain I was dreaming, I panicked as the snapping and snarling coming from behind me was beginning to close the distance between us. I could hear the excitement in this beast panting

as it inched closer and closer, and I felt like the primal growls were reverberating inside my body, no matter how much I ran, those lights just would not find me. As the last flickering view went out, I felt myself collapse mid-stride, but not hitting the ground. It felt as though I'd fallen through a hole in the earth, like I had run straight off a cliff, and I fell through what appeared to be the ceiling of my bedroom. I felt my feet break through the roof as I crashed onto my bed to be brought awake at last. I sat up sharply in bed, being met with an intense chill,

despite being in a house with no AC in the middle of the summer. Laying back down, I played that dream over and over again in my mind. I had never felt such fear in a dream. Even stranger was I don't ever recall feeling any sort of physical sensation in any dream before let alone having the temperature of one carry on

into my conscious state as my body woke up a little more and my mind came too I was greeted with a smell of bacon and pancakes filling the house which calm me down a bit at first but as I stood up my legs buckled

and I nearly fell back onto my bed This dream had felt real, but there's no way my legs could have been worn out from it. Maybe they're just sore from working outside all day, I reassured myself. I picked myself back up and staggered into the kitchen to find Mary happily making breakfast while playing some relaxing music. This put a smile on my face, and I temporarily pushed that late-night run out of my mind. after finishing up breakfast and laying around on a lazy Sunday the dream was forcing its way back into my head

I couldn't seem to shake it out and it was really starting to bother me so I told Mary about it I told her about the strange nightmare I had as well as the creepy monster dog that had stared at me for hours I asked her if she'd noticed it hanging around the property or anything unusual of the sort but, well, she hadn't.

Don't go crazy on me now, Mary said, teasing me. I chuckled as she wrapped my head in her arms. Hey, why don't we order some take out and watch some movies, you weirdo? She said to me, as she released my head. I was more than happy to do so. I just wanted to forget about that strange dog. After ordering the food, I exited the house, but something immediately caught my eye. I don't know why they stuck out so blatantly, but where the grass met the sultry mud adjacent to the driveway, there was a set of huge canine tracks leading up to my bedroom window.

They pressed deep into the soil, as if it had crushed its feet into the earth as such malice that it gave way to it without a fight. I stared in the direction the trail of tracks originated from, towards the edge of the woods. intersecting with the exact spot I'd encountered that dog the day before. The next few weeks quickly passed by, and just about every night I experienced this same dream. It was always the same for the most part. I would pick myself up on the dark road, and on cue I would always start running to those lights,

just trying to escape from that hunger that pined for me. Sometimes I would just run endlessly, but as the nights went on, it started to catch me on a semi-regular basis. I could feel every sensation as it would rip into my flesh, almost like I was being torn apart by a pack of starving wolves. The same nefarious scenario plagued my mind each night, each time being filled with more anxiety and torment than the last.

I always tried reminding myself it was all a dream, but I felt the pain no less by thinking it was not real. My sleep was starting to suffer. I never felt like I'd slept for more than an hour, and, incidentally, my body ached all over. I was extremely unsettled by the fact that my body was constantly sore after my dreams, and that I could experience such excruciating pain in them. While there were a few variations to these dreams,

the outcome was always the same. I ran and ran, but never reached those lights. As the weeks dragged on, I started to grow paranoid. I had rushed to the window with every shuffle I heard outside of the house, and I started to give up on going to sleep, staying up until exhaustion got the better of me. A few more weeks passed, and I was settling into my new job. Even though that dream was popping into my head every night,

things were about as good as they could be. I got along with everyone at work and was happy to me making a decent paycheck. Mary and I were basking in the glory of living in our first home and all of the privacy it brought with it. The only thing that made sense was to write all of this off as nothing more than crazy nightmares brought upon by the stress of starting a new job and moving into a new house. Every morning, walking out to my car,

I felt that same sensation of being watched and would scan the area out of routine to see if I could catch that dog nearby and glaring at me with those piercing eyes. But alas, I could never seem to catch him, even though in the back of my mind I somehow knew it was there. These weeks quickly turned into months

as I constantly felt the nagging feeling of something just over my shoulder. Mary was visibly annoyed by my constant chatter of this mystical dog that I'd encountered that summer night, and we'd even endured a few shouting matches over it, me wanting to show that I wasn't crazy, and her showing her concern wearing thin as my fruitless accusations began to pile up.

Well, the guilt of worrying Mary was weighing heavily on my shoulders. My sleep continued to suffer, as I would jump with every bump in the night and rushed to the window in hopes of uncovering definitive proof of the source of my paranoia. But every time I would see nothing out that window but blackness. I'm ashamed to say that due to these unforeseen circumstances, I began to indulge myself in alcohol once again.

It was the only thing that helped ease my mind, and if I had enough, it would knock me out until the following morning. My few remaining friends had heard of the struggles that Mary, was enduring and wanted to help. My frequent patrols through the night that consisted of me staring out the window and talking to myself was keeping her awake and trying her patience.

It got so bad that they felt they needed to stage an intervention telling me to get some help and just to try and relax, that I was letting something that wasn't real take hold of my life, causing me to miss what was going on right in front of me.

I glanced at Mary, with tears swelling up in her eyes. I could see the genuine concern in her face as I began to question my own sanity. God, was all of this just in my head, I thought. Had I let this control my life so much that, well, I began losing touch. Looking at the calendar on my phone reminded me that it was well into the month of October and a tidal wave of depression swept over me. I apologised to all of my friends, not knowing what was going on,

if it was really just all in my own head. It seemed easier to believe that at the time than to question it. How could I have let so much time slip by as I obsessed over something as ridiculous as this? God, I was consumed by it. I felt as though I was reintegrating myself into society after my awakening from the deep illusion

I'd seem to have succumbed to. I urged Mary to accompany me on a hike through a trail near our home. Reading myself for the chilly fall weather, I slid my boots on, I threw on a coat while waiting for Mary to finish up her own preparations. Once we made our way out the door and down the road,

I felt the surging relief swim through me. I noticed every part of the moment. passing animal, every sound and every detail of color detailing the beautiful decaying brush as we were carried through our track. Making our way towards the entrance of the aforementioned trail, I turned to Mary with a smile and embraced her without words. In this moment, I truly experienced the present and all of the happiness it had to offer me. Oh, I wish I could live in these moments forever, making our way towards the end of the trail, we came across a small pond. I'd never been all the way through this trail to see what the end held, but it was a very peaceful and satisfying

end to a comfortably ordinary day. Standing at the edge of the pond, I looked down, gathering up a few stones and began skipping them across the still water. Mary, being her usual self, was capturing the scenery on her phone to assure we could later revisit it in all its glory. You're going to miss your real life stuck in that phone, babe. I yelled at her in a joking tone. She waved me off, sticking out in her tongue, and kept on with her photo shoot. As I skipped one of the last rocks, I watched it spin across the otherwise undisturbed surface. I noticed a woman standing at the opposite end of the pond. She was maybe 50 or 60 yards away. but I could make out that she had long blonde hair,

and was wearing a blue funnel shirt and jeans to match. That's odd, I thought. I hadn't noticed her at all before, but being as out in the open as she was, I figured I would have spotted her immediately. I don't know how she could have just appeared there in the few seconds that I looked down. As far as I knew, there wasn't any sort of trail that led to that side of the pond, since there was nothing but thick orange and red behind her.

Additionally, the perimeter of the shore was far too dense with trees and shrubs for anyone to make their way through unscathed, but she looked relatively untouched from what I could see. I turned back to see Mary taking pictures of the entirety of the pond and pocketing her phone at last. All right, I'm finished, are you happy? She said with a smirk and bumped her hip into mine. I look back to the opposite edge, but whoever may have been across from us was nowhere to be seen.

Yeah, dummy, I yelled back in her, burying my unise and wrap my arm around her as we made her way down the trail and back home. As we exited the mouth of the trail back towards the house, my curiosity was beginning to nag me, and I asked Mary if I could see some of the pictures she'd taken. She pulled up her phone, opening the recent photos taken, and I scrolled through them, revealing an impressive array of scenery that the autumn forest had provided. These originally distracted me from the main reason I'd wanted to examine them, but I quickly reminded myself to look out for anything unusual.

I couldn't seem to find anything out of the ordinary. I even got to the last pictures taken of the pond, trying to pinpoint the exact spot where I'd seen the woman. I know she'd taken at least a few pictures while I'd seen her. I was certain of it. But as I reached the end of the compilation, and the end of the screen reared back to the right, I was almost disappointed.

I'd expected to see something that I could show Mary to let her see that maybe, just maybe, that there was something otherworldly going on out here. But the picture revealed nothing, nothing but an empty portrait facing us, where I had seen this woman looking across at us. What? Don't you think they're good? she asked, probably noticing my disheartened expression. Oh, no, I think they're great, I strained. It's just...

What? she asked. Look, I know you worried about me, but... There was a woman across the pond and was looking right at us, I said. Oh, she responded in a deflated tone. Look, I know you must think I'm crazy, but I swear there was someone there, I said. pleading for her in frustration to believe me. You know I really want to believe you, but I want you to stop seeing these things even more.

I wish we could just enjoy our time without you getting lost in your own head. I let my head collapse into my hands. I just wish you guys would believe me. I swear there's something going on, I said to her. There is something going on. We're lucky enough to have a place together, and you're missing it.

That's what's going on, she responded. I just sat there without a response, as she picked herself up and left the room. I laid there and bed for hours in confusion over what I'd seen, and anger that it had swooped back into my life, right as everything was looking up. That night I knew the moment when I'd fallen asleep. It was like I'd close my eyes and opened them to a new world.

I'd fall into this dream already running, memories flooding me of the horrific nightmares I had endured many times before. Only this time, there wasn't a long road, but rather a battered trail winding through a dense forest, overseeing me as I planted my foot hard into the soil with each turn. However, one similarity showed itself. Two lights showing themselves through the sparse openings that the dense leaves provided. I locked onto my old safeguard and found a second wind,

as I made my way towards it. Swaying my way through the trees, I stumbled on unforgiving roots and felt the sting of frigid branches slap against my skin. My chest grew heavy as I started to hear that unwelcome sound of ravenous panting,

keeping its pace with me. I was certain of what was behind me. Hearing the muzzle of my pursuer lap up excess saliva that had attempted to escape its mouth propelled me forward faster and faster. fighting my way through the vegetation until I literally fell into a clearing. I glanced up frantically, then behind me,

bracing for a mouth of teeth to rip into my flesh. But the thundering gallops of what was behind had ceased. I look forward to see a familiar sight. The pond that I'd just visited hours ago sat in front of me. Standing up, I noticed another familiar sight. A woman. The same woman I thought I'd seen earlier that day was standing at the opposite edge of the pond. I recognised that long, blonde hair that nearly fell to her waist, but she was different. She looked rigid, her body contorted in an unnatural way. Her shoulders were uneven. Her neck bent at a frightening angle, and her skin appeared almost rotten.

while she looked to be wearing the same flannel shirt and jeans as before, they were filthy and torn. I felt my heart jump up into my throat as she let out this disheartening groan that slithered up my spine. I sat there still as that noise seemed to echo endlessly. I stared at her, fear and anxiety circulating through me. I just wanted to wake up. I needed to get out of this, and to avoid any further psychological torment.

But it seemed as if the rest of this world load itself down to a mute. She curled her neck in a vomit-inducing twist, the grinding of her bones making me cringe. She stared at me for a few moments before she began to make her way towards me. The body of water laying in front of her failed to deter her motivation to advance her creaking, mangled feet. figure. The sight of her movements caused my body to tremble. She looked as if she were a marionette, being guided from above, as her limbs struggled to take any steps that resembled a

human. God, I'll never forget the way she moved. I could hear her bones writhe and snap as she came at me in this animated fashion. I wanted to just break down and cry right there. God, I would rather die than endure this hell any longer. With every step, her bones continued to bend and fracture in a louder, more grotesque way than the last. She slowly waded through the water, never rising anywhere past waist-deep, failing to free me from the horror that was amplifying with each passing second. As her face began to take shape, I could see a look of despair, of pure heartbreak that

was caked on her face, perhaps in agony over her broken bones, dragging her step by step through the freezing waters. I could see her mouthing something to me. I looked closer, but I couldn't seem to understand what she was trying to say. Her face stressed and was just desperate for me to hear her, but the terror coursing through me was reaching a tipping point. I could no longer bear to look at this monstrosity, bearing little resemblance of anything close. close to a person. I turned to try and make my way back down the trail, but was promptly frozen in my tracks. There it was, that same beast, monster or demon, stood at the entrance of the clearing, I'd stumbled my way through. It sat there, staring through my being with

those horrible yellow eyes, the hunger swirling inside of them, the likes of which I had never seen. I took one step backwards and felt my sinking heart stop as a cold, lifeless hand placed itself on my shoulder, followed by an unnerving, inhuman voice in my ear. Please don't go. I sat up sharply in bed, screaming to feel merry with her hands on my shoulders, frantically pleading for me to calm down. Tears beginning to form in her eyes. I struggled to find my voice as I saw. sat there stammering, I bless Mary's heart. She laid in bed with me and comforted me as I tried to articulate what had just happened. Again, I felt conflicted because I desperately wanted

her to believe me, but at the same time I could feel her growing frustration and her patience wearing ever so thin. They're just dreams. I scolded myself. I didn't want to lose her. She'd been a bright spot amid all of this chaos going on. But what can I do when the truth just exacerbates those struggles? As I sat there, relaxing in the comfort of Mary's hands rubbing my shoulders, I felt anxiety slowly dissipate before Mary's hands grew icy cold, and I felt her breath whisper into my ear. Wake up! My vision went blank for a moment. I felt as though my eyes were slowly pried open, but my vision was distorted and grainy, like I was staring up into a bleak, overcast, buzzing in a disorganized static. I came to and found myself watching Mary a short

ways from me, taking pictures with her phone. In a haze, I slowly turned my head to see the pond sitting in front of us. My head pounded without mercy as my eyes darted around, trying to figure out why I was here or what day it even was. That same question repeated itself. Am I dreaming? Mary approached me and bumped her hip into mine once more. All right, I'm finished. Are you happy? I sat there in an unnerving state of deja vu, as I tried to appear as calm as possible. Yeah, do you want to go back to the house? I responded in a a lifeless home. We made a way back towards the house, and I felt like a zombie shambling my way down the trail. I could see Mary taking concern glances at me as we progressed away towards our

home. Everything all right, she spoke out to me, breaking the silence in my head. Yeah, sorry, I'm just really tired. I wasn't lying, however. My body was aching, and I felt as if I had to hadn't slept in a week. Mary clasped my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine, and rested her head on my shoulders the rest of the way back. We entered the house in an uneasy silence, and I made my way to my bed. I laid my body down hard, slightly bouncing as the springs recoiled under my weight. Mary, knowing something was wrong, set her stuff down. I'm going to get some dinner started, okay. You just rest. You seem out of it. Thanks, Mary. I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm just feeling really exhausted. I'll be okay. She beamed a smile at me and left the room towards the kitchen.

I felt a little relaxation sweep over me as I heard the sound of running water from the faucet. From underneath my pillow, I fished out that thin paperback that I turned to so many times. I flipped it to my go-to and read it over a few times, as I needed to feel like myself again. I needed to ground myself back into the real world and escape these tricks my mind have been playing on me. Did you change for you are? Did you buy a disguise? Are you the one hiding? Or did I close my eyes?

Do you just have too much to do? Or am I the one who's too busy for you? mid-sentence into my tenth time reading it through. It hit me. I wasn't going to let myself fall prey to this cruel force. I wasn't going to let it drag me back into the darkness and away from this life that I'd built. No, I had to fight back.

But my lack of sleep was starting to take its toll. My energy was reaching an all-time low, and it was clear at this point that I could never be so sure of if I was awake or asleep. I had an idea. If I couldn't figure out what state of consciousness I was in, I had to leave something for myself to show that I was awake. It could toy with my sense of time and reality,

but I had to see if it was capable of replicating the tiniest of details. I had to do something to push back before it took complete control. I grabbed the nearby pen, and at the bottom of the poem, I wrote out three words that I could use as a reference. You are awake. While it was nothing fancierge or an elaborate Scooby-Doo ghost trap, I figured this would give me a chance to fight back. The next several weeks were rough.

As winter started to tighten its grip on our town, and with our house being less than accommodated to handle any conditions of weather, things only got worse. I sat up late, shaking in the freezing cold that penetrated our house. Every night for a few weeks, I had that same dream of sprinting down that road with that monster trailing behind me. While sometimes it caught me, I could never fully escape to the lights that seemed warmer and more inviting each time around. Most nights I woke up panting in a cold sweat, even though I knew every time I was just in a dream, the fear was always all too real. Mary was distraught

after helplessly watching me sink into an insomnia-fueled depression alcoholism had returned with a vengeance as it tempted me with a sweet short-term relief it provided I can't help but feel she holds some resentments towards me but I guess I can't blame her her sunny disposition was replaced by a cloudy aura as she tried her best to believe my ridiculous stories She really was a saint for sticking around with me.

She comforted me every night, would make me tea and rub my neck until I fell asleep. I tried telling her daily how much I appreciated her and how much she meant to me. But I felt as though I was putting her on a roller coaster, having her hear those words only to be woken up by my constant night terrors. I still feel guilty to this day about inadvertently dragging her into my situation.

I had never felt so helpless in all my life. With winter being in full swing and having a few weeks off work, I found myself alone in our house often. With me usually being busy enough to be out of the house for most of the day, I had never really been by myself for long periods of time at home. Mary had recently been promoted to manager at the restaurant she worked at and had to work very long hours while I did everything I could to keep my mind occupied. But throughout this time alone, I would hear frequent movement throughout the house.

I tried to occupy my time with reading, or maybe playing some video games, but several times a day I would hear movement in the vacant rooms. Sometimes in my peripherals, I thought I would see a flash of blonde hair sliding just out of my vision. I would always feel relief seeing Mary pulling into the driveway after her long shifts, knowing that at least I wouldn't be alone for a period of time. A few days passed, and one day, while Mary was away at work, I decided I needed to try and get out of the house,

but Mary had borrowed my car after hers had broken down. So I decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood. I sluggishly pulled myself out of bed after laying there for the better part of the morning. I was apprehensive at first, being that I may have an unwanted encounter, but sitting inside my house had become too stressful. It seemed as though something had moved in. As I was about to leave my room and exit the house, I stopped.

I quickly grabbed my book while walking towards the front door to read, You are awake. I let out a relieved sigh, grabbing the door-knob and exiting my house. I made my way down the road. hoping to find any kind of peace. It was a cold grey afternoon, and my walk was surrounded by a swath of desolate trees. The empty oak and maple branches formed a portrait,

resembling a mountain range of needles. I scanned every which way, hoping my gaze didn't meet that resentful pair of eyes, yet hoping on some level that I may. I wandered along backroads for a few hours, drinking in the day. It felt good to get some endorphins flowing and to do something aside from sit on my butt. My coat wrapped tightly around my body, which provided a sense of security that I desperately needed.

I reached a dead end on a road maybe a few miles away from my home, and decided it was a good sign to return. I turned around and started my way back home, trying to shake off harsh gales of frigid wind blowing through me. I made turn after turn. while scrolling through my phone and playing music, but when I looked up, I noticed something. My surroundings weren't the same as before.

While the basic scenery seemed similar enough, the minute details were lacking. The houses of my sparsely placed neighbours were nowhere in sight, and the roads had lost the rising and falling hills that it rolled over. The fear gripped me. I just tried to calmly make my... way home. I didn't know if I'd just taken a wrong turn and gotten myself lost, but I seemed to take the same turns over and over again, just trying to find the right way. Each road seemed longer

and more ominous than the last. I tried pulling out my phone in order to pinpoint my location, but I was irritated to see that I was apparently just down the road from my house. I headed towards where my phone was telling me I needed to go, but nothing seemed to come from. it. There was nothing but endless trees and a fading road ahead of me. I searched and searched, feeling tears rolling down my face as the frustration concerning my crumbling life was boiling over yet again. I couldn't have been dreaming, but the same futile chase that haunted my dreams had found its way into my consciousness. I began to run out of sheer desperation, punching my legs and biting my hands in intervals, just hoping and might wake up.

to Mary beside me comforting me once again finding my way around a bend tears choking my throat I saw my home just at the end of the road I let out a sigh of elation as my tears of sadness quickly switched to those of happiness my head tilted down in relief and I laughed at myself for freaking out of getting myself lost I'm such a melodramatic idiot I thought a smile plastered on my face. I made my way down the driveway, but the consistent crunch of gravel beneath my steps was interrupted by a harsh crack. I stepped back and looked down to see the carcass of a small rabbit. The overwhelming stench of rot flooded my nostrils as I covered my nose

with my hands to see I'd stepped on the protruding rib cage of the poor animal. Its body was torn to shreds. An expression of the chest of the body. of terror and desperation still lingering in its lifeless eyes. Looking up from it, I saw a myriad of animals strewn about the yard, dozens and dozens of them. So many birds, raccoons, squirrels, and rabbits laid on the cold ground, emitting a staggering stench of decay. The odour was so great that I turned and vomited. Hands clenched on my face. I sprinted past the carnage, through my front door, and frantically scrambled to turn the locks and bolt it shut. But when I ran into my room, I saw hundreds of porprints painted along the floors,

coated in a disgusting brownish red paste that extended onto my bedspread and my dresses, accompanied by deep claw marks running down the walls. I scrambled to find my book, my one answer to where I really was right now. I yanked out dresses, tossing clothes. clothing carelessly across the floor. I ripped the blankets and sheets off my bed. Where is it? I screamed. I started to hear aggressive clawing on the front door and an ungodly sound that was a mix of whimpering, snarling, desperate crying and screaming. I frantically tore through my possessions as the sound increased to a deafening wail that was nearly

bursting my eardrums. I fell to my knees, pulling on my hair, and the antipransed. for this unholy spawn to leave me be. I pleaded and pleaded, rocking back and forth on the floor, begging to be set free. Shortly after my plea ended, I shut up in bed, trying to slow my hyperventilating breaths. Sweat drained down my neck and back, as I looked around in confusion.

Was I just dreaming? I thought to myself. When did I fall asleep? How? It was then that I heard an abrupt knock on the door, accompanied with Mary's voice yelling, Hey, can you let me inside? I shot up, so happy to finally see her. I ambolted the door and opened it to see her carrying a large bag of food and sporting her usual room-brightening smile.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek. I turned back into the house to let her enter and asked how her shift was, as I started to light a candle in the living room, eager to spend the rest of my evening with some good company. However, I was greeted with silence, an unwelcome, haunting silence, that I knew was the harbinger to exactly what I didn't want to see. I reluctantly turned to see that horrible monstrosity,

standing in the doorway to my house. Its menacing figure seeming to tower over my existence, I immediately covered my face and screamed for it to leave. I sat there, sobbing in my palms, and during frequent breaks of choke cries, I could hear its slow, forced breaths, and could feel those all too familiar eyes slicing through me. Please, just go! I screamed in desperation, too terrified to look at it a second time. Please, I don't know what you want.

just please leave me be, I begged. We both sat there, cradled in moments of tense agony, as I stared into the darkness that my hands had shrouded over my eyes. Time seemed to stand still, and my heart sank as I heard the sweet sound of Mary's voice. Sweetie, it's okay. Deep sadness and anger flushed through me. No, I yelled back in his voice. I yelled back in hysteria, wanting so much to believe it was her standing across the room for me.

Please, you're worrying me. Let me help you. I sat there, still as a statue, refusing to meet its gaze. Go away, I sternly grounded it. Silence. Just get out. Just get out now. Everything is going to be okay. It spoke out. Every inflection, every mannerism within her speech was perfectly replicated.

You're not real. You're not real. You're not real. I repeated to myself in desperation. I couldn't even convince myself of this, though. I stepped back, hands still covering my face, slowly backing my way towards the nearest wall. When my back met its surface, I let myself slow.

lights onto the floor, sitting there as Mary's words continued to echo in my head. Sweetie, it's okay. Please, just get up and come lie down with me. I've had a very long day. It wanted me to give in. Get out of here and don't ever come back, I spat. I tried to stand my ground. I tried everything to try and show it why I was not going to be beaten by it.

but it already knew me. It knew what strings to pour and what buttons to push. I then heard the haunting sound of Mary cry. Please. I'm trying so hard to help you, but I don't know what else I can do for you. Please, just come back to me. I broke down, knowing how much strife I'd thrown Mary into. It continued.

Please, I love you so much. All I want is for you. to get better. Please, stop, I exclaimed as I tried to stop the choking misery from pouring out of me. The crying continued. I tried to sit there and push through it. But the sobbing of the woman I loved was crushing what was left of my spirits. I couldn't bear it any longer.

I slid my hands down from my eyes and ready myself to meet my tormentor face to face again. But as I did, something caught the corner of my eye. sitting on the living room table was a torn up piece of paper i reached down and held it up close to my eyes as to not see the terror in front of me it was a torn-out excerpt of the poem i'd read through so many times over the last few days are you too ashamed to show your face why are you running unlike others i'll chase just let go and everything will be okay mary's very voice said softly, almost as though she'd set it right into my ear. I released the shredded paper and looked up to see a dark blur reached me in the blink of an eye. It hit me with the force of a freight train, spearheaded by a mouth full of teeth. It lashed onto my upper thigh, lacerating my muscles and tendons as it grunted with excitement. Its strength was unreal, but I tried to punch its skull and ribcage as it tore into my upper thigh. It was a lot of

my flesh. The pain was unreal. I could hear the sickening crunches of its mouth effortlessly fracturing my bones as I felt warm blood seat down my leg and onto the floor as I arrived in a pool of dark red. The blood pouring out of me was soaking into my clothes and all the while I could hear the sweet voice of Mary in my ear saying, everything will be okay. Just let go. Those words repeated themselves on an endless loop as it tore at me like a rag doll while I gave everything I had to try and fight it off of me. My efforts to free myself rapidly weakened as I felt the life drain from my body. My vision started to fade and I felt it release its vice-like grip on me and I looked up. It stood over me, my blood coating its mouth as it stared coldly into my eyes

without any shred of remorse. That same hunger and malice flooded its eyes as it gazed down at me while I trembled in horrible pain on the floor. I pressed my hands along the many deep wounds on my leg, just trying to stop myself from bleeding out. All the while it just sat there, so still and domineering. I started to crawl away,

my nails digging into the wooden floor, healing back and breaking as I tried to find safety. I didn't know where I was trying to go, or how I could even escape, but I refused to just lay there and let myself die without a fight. My body felt as though it carried the weight of a dying star as I strained to pull myself away. All of my energy reserves being depleted,

I turned and stared right at it. You're not real. You are nothing. I hissed and spat right at its face in a dying rage as my head fell onto the hard wood. It snarled menacingly, revealing a mouth of enormous, jagged teeth, and lunged at me once more, clamping its jaws deep into my throat. Blood filled my windpipe and flowed down into my lungs, and I gurgled in anguish before hearing one last horrid crunch.

Everything is okay. I heard Mary's voice say one more time, and then everything faded to black. A ray of sunlight breaking through a window caused my eyes to slowly open as the heat warmed my face. I rubbed my eyes, so drained and perplexed from reality and dreams transcending each other through these violent acrobatics. I didn't know if I was fully awake, and frankly, I was so weathered that I didn't even really care to check. I fully came to, to feel my hand clenched on the doorknob. My book, sitting where I last sat it down. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked the time.

3.10 p.m. A message from Mary read, Work is crazy. Someone didn't show up and I'm covering all of their tables. Can't wait to just get out of here and come home. She'd barely been gone an hour. I dreaded the fact. that I had to wait another six hours of being alone in that god-forsaken house.

If I was actually awake, that is. I picked the book back up and opened the mark page. You are awake. I sat around for the remainder of the day, watching movies on my laptop, just trying to distract myself. I dared not leave the house. I knew it was there, just outside my door, waiting for me. The hours dragged up.

and every sound outside caused me to jump. I probably spent half the time peeling back the curtain and looking outside. A few times I could have sworn I could see the thing just standing at the edge of the adjacent forest where I'd first seen it. But I quickly shut the curtain before I could discern what it may have been. I was losing my mind. I never wanted to see it, but on another level. I couldn't help myself. Maybe I was hoping that it would just

bust down my door and end all of this. As the sun went down, I flicked all the lights on in my house for some sort of comfort. Laying in my bed and continuing to watch movies, I kept seeing flashes of blue and blonde just standing outside of my doorframe. I try to ignore it,

but every time my focus returned to my laptop for an extended time, I would see that same array of colour darting just behind the doorframe. I began to feel frustration prod at me. I couldn't leave the house at risk of running into that evil, but staying in the house, well, it would just relentlessly toy with me. I couldn't even just go to sleep to try and erase the time I had to wait through, as it had all but taken over my life outside of my consciousness.

every time I would catch that in the corner of my eyes I would fling my book open you are awake it read time after time I tried switching to watching something more cheerful and turned on the office I hope that seeing my favourite Scranton residence would bring a little joy to my day as I waited endlessly for Mary to come home as an episode ended and I got up to make myself some food, I heard the shower turn on over on the other side of the house. The initial sound made me jump as I was already tightly wound. I slowly made my way across the house towards the bathroom. The lights were off, but I could hear the water roaring down. As I reached for the doorknob, I could hear the chilling sound of a woman starting to cry.

I froze, not sure if I wanted to see what. was on the other side, but I couldn't just sit there and let the water blast full force without shutting it off. The crying continued, oh, it was an awful sound. I sat there with my hand on the knob, trying to force myself to open the door, but I was just stuck in place. I started to turn away after letting go of the knob, but a familiar voice sent chills down my back. Please, Don't go. I heard from the other side of the door. I froze, goosebumps forming on my arms, and just stared at the door.

The consistent sound of running water still flooding into my ears. Who are you? I meekly spoke out. Silence. Who are you? I repeated, with more authority at the closed door. suddenly the water shut off i sat there paralyzed as the doorknobs slowly clicked and the door creaked open just a crab even in the dark room i could make out that unmistakable blonde hair shining in the small aperture that the open door provided do you know what's happening to me i asked again silence please just tell me just tell me why are you here my ears were ruptured by an inhuman sobbing that followed my question and the repeating phrase please don't go please don't go please don't go i stepped back completely terrified the door slowly pulled open just a bit more and the face of a beautiful woman revealed itself tears rolling down her face her lips quivering

Shaken, I was able to force out another. Why are you here? She brushed the hair away from her face and looked right at me with bright turquoise eyes. Please, I uttered. She looked down to the floor and continued to sob uncontrollably. What were you doing at the pond? She continued to cry.

I don't know what you're trying to say, I said to whoever or whatever was standing just in front of me. Her neck snapped up to show that horrific, rotted face I had seen at the pond. Her eyes glowed a bright yellow, and she screamed in an ungodly voice, Don't go! And the door slammed shut with such great force that it shook the whole house and caused nearby hanging pictures to fall down. I sat there on the floor, bewildered as minutes passed by and I just stared at the bathroom door.

I picked myself up and was able to force myself forward and slowly turn the handle to push open the door. Everything inside appeared normal, as if none of it had even happened. I could hear intermittent droplets of water splash onto the shower floor, and I'd pull back the curtains. nothing was there. Is this my life now? I thought to myself as I stood in the empty room, gazing into the shower. I felt numb.

The frequent paranormal outbursts beginning to become a part of my daily routine. Reality was now a cruel obstacle I had to hurdle with every other step. At last, those headlights show themselves, and I heard the car pull in. The door shut. followed shortly by Mary knocking on the door. Hey, can you let me inside? I heard from the other side of the door.

I sat there on the opposite side, just staring at the knob. It's just Mary, you can open the door. I told myself, but my inhibitions prevented me from doing so. Hello, can you please let me in? I heard the door rattle as Mary was showing me that it was bold, and she could not access it with the key. Is it you? I called out. What do you mean? Of course it's me. Just open the door. I'm freezing.

She responded. I don't believe you. I responded with hate in my tone. What? Please stop messing around and let me in. I reluctantly unbolted the door and pulled it open, just enough for her to push it open. She walked in giving me that concerned look. Please don't hurt me. I weakly mumbled to her as I turned to collapse on the bed. Mary didn't say anything.

She sat on the edge of the bed next to me and stroked my back. I don't know what's happening to you, but you need to get yourself help. Otherwise, I don't think I can do this. Leave then, I hissed. You don't believe me. You just think I'm crazy. I think you seriously need help, sweetheart, she said, attempting to console me while getting her point across.

I rolled over, burying my head in the pillow, and swept the blankets over my head. Mary sat next to me, reading for an hour or so, occasionally reaching over to stroke with my back and head. I eventually reached up and grasped her hand tightly. She rubbed her thumb along the back of my hand And I felt myself drift into sleep I woke up in the middle of the night I glanced over to see Mary fast asleep And I turned over to look across the room

Waiting to see if a nightmare would begin to unfold itself I sat there in deep silence for a few minutes Waiting for something But it appeared as if I was in the clear for the night As my eyes began to grow heavy while I felt sleep coming back to me. I heard something in the kitchen just outside of our room. It was a light scraping sound.

I waited for a minute to see if anything followed, but every time I nearly fell back asleep, I could hear that scraping. It eventually hit me. It was the distinct sound of a dog's claws walking across a linoleum floor. That light thud, immediately followed by the scratching of claws,

across the surface of the floor. I heard it take scattered steps to be followed by a minute or two of silence. It will cut off after a few steps and seemed to turn back around the other way as if it were just pacing around the kitchen. I pulled out of my book and read, You are awake.

Against my better judgment, I pulled myself out of the bed and pressed my ear to the bedroom door. The steps continue. joined by the sound of a dog's muzzle, eagerly sniffing the surroundings of a newly discovered area. I opened the door and slowly trudged out towards the kitchen. I should have just stayed in bed, but frustration fuelled me just to get these incidents over with. My eyes still adjusting to the pitch black house.

I looked over the room in front of me. After about 30 seconds or so, I could see the glow of yellow eyes staring at, me from the other side of the kitchen. I sat there, staring into them for a few moments, almost daring it to come for me, but it just laid still. I closed my eyes, shutting them tightly for a few seconds and took some deep breaths. When I opened them, the eyes were gone. I repeated that action a few more times, in order to assure that it wasn't there. I turned and made my way back to my room, but I collided with something heavy and limp in the doorway, causing me to lose balance and fall backwards onto the ground. I heard the creaking of old wood above me,

and I looked up to see horrific sight. Dangling in the doorway was a body, hanging from a noose attached to a rafter on the ceiling. I screamed and covered my head, curling up into the fetal position as I laid on the kitchen floor. I heard Mary wake up and rush out of bed to my side as I sat there inconsolable. She didn't speak. She just sat there with me and held me as I cried. I kept pointing to the doorway as gibberish poured out of my mouth, begging Mary to believe me.

But the remainder of the night I laid awake. The sounds of that thing circling the outside of the house held me hostage. Every minute or so, I would hear it make its way around to my side of the house, slowing its gate a bit and seeming to stop at my window for a few moments each go around. I kept glancing over to Mary, when she was fast asleep, hoping she would maybe hear something, proving me right once and for all. But she never did, and I dared not wake her up,

knowing she'd already gotten up once tonight to humour my stories. I stared at her, and I stared at her, and I had to ask her. Anger began to curdle inside of me, resentful towards her for not believing me, and infuriated at the beast that was unfolding my sanity. Every time it made its way to my window, it would stop, and I could feel it staring me down, longing to be let inside. After this had gone on for an hour or so, those outside sounds were joined by light scratching running slowly along the sides of the house. I could hear very faint mumbling, just barely penetrating the walls, but I couldn't make out any words.

I would attentively raise my head up every time the mumbling made its way by the window. I could see the foggy silhouette of a person sliding through the moonlight. My eyes switched from the window to Mary's sealed eyelids, eager to see if she would come to, and my temptation to shake her awake increased. I continued for hours. eventually melding into a somewhat soothing cadence of sound that somehow lulled me to sleep. Perhaps so he could see into my dreams. The circling continued for several nights in a row.

The nightmares would shoot me awake like a farmer prodding his cattle. I would sit there in deafening silence, listening intently for anything, only to sit in suspensers nothing made itself heard. The air was heavy, and I was sick with apprehension as this thing chipped me away bit by little bit. One night, however, after waking up and sitting in the dark by routine, a barely audible noise made itself known. At first, I couldn't quite make it out, but it sounded like strained wheezing. The sound was quiet at first, but over several minutes it was ringing in my head. It was the only sound coming from the night.

No crickets, not even wind blowing. I tried covering my ears and throwing my pillar over my head, but the sound was blaring in my ears at this point. It got to the point that it was deafening, as I could feel my heartbeat pulse loudly in my temples, the room around me caving in so tight that it was crushing me. I tried to shut it out, but no matter what I did, I just couldn't get it to stop.

The intolerable sound of breaths, forcing their way into my ears, began to slowly die down before cutting off completely. I rose up once again to my window, but was unable to see anything in the thick blackness. I made my way to each window of the house, peering out closely at the yard before moving on to the next.

The last window remaining was the one just next to the front door. The wheezing resumed, accompanied by the sounds of running water and light footsteps, I slowly made my way to the window, my index finger lightly resting on the switch controlling the porch light. I inhaled slowly and flipped it on, keeping my eyes closed for a few seconds to brace myself for anything awful that I might see. The lights flooded, the one pitch black yard, with a glow that strained my vision at first. I looked out the window, and I saw it. The woman, sitting there in a limp, lifeless pile, as the monster held her neck with its jaws tightly.

It stared right through the window to me, its eyes pulsing with excitement and satisfaction, while the woman's cold, dead eyes sank deep into my heart. I'm completely insane, I thought. I no longer believed what my eyes were presenting to me. The woman's mouth fell open, and I could see her mouthing to me once again. But this time I could make out the words. Her lips showed. I stared with blackness back into them, almost in solidarity,

as I felt completely trapped, as her neck was clenched within its moor. I just looked at it for a while, almost bored. I turned off the light and just stood there, numb for a minute. or so before I made my way back to bed and went to sleep. Weeks went on, and I slipped into a greyness. I no longer cared for anything, including myself. I stopped showing up for work, and I remained distant to Mary, spending my day shut in behind closed blinds, drowning myself in algal.

Dreams and reality had melded into one, and it seemed like I was either asleep or swimming my way to an empty bottle. That first dream that started at all was finding me every night, but I no longer cared to run as I didn't care for life anymore. I would just stand up, turn around and scowl at the dark until I was consumed alive, every morsel of pain erupting through myself. Sometimes I would be greeted by Mary, staring down at me as I laid in bed in a drunken stupor. Every time she would pull out part of the furies.

she had left to make me feel better as I aggressively shugged of her patriny to try and find sleep once more. But no matter what world I fell into, sleeping all-conscious, there was no exit. There was no exit. Mary had had enough. She sat on the end of the bed as I down the remainder of my comfort. She gave me the usual speech about how I had a lot of problems that I needed to solve. out and that she could no longer be the one to try and fix them. I polished off my bottle as she finished her speech and I don't remember exactly what she said. But I do remember saying, well, what are you waiting for? With a cold grin on my face. I wish I hadn't sent her off that way.

Mary, she was the sweetest soul I'd ever come across, but I'd allowed the darkest. I'd allowed the dark, to force its way into me and to flow outward to her, and I bullied her away. As she briskly walked to her car with the bulk of her possessions, I trailed her and laughed out my misery. She slammed the car door, and I threw my empty bottle on the gravel, glass disintegrating into my shins and ankles as I walked to her car window screaming, leave then. She floored it in reverse and sped away I wish that wasn't the last I'd seen of her I miss her so much

The night after Mary left I drank myself into unconsciousness I found myself On that same road journey into the same dream I looked up and the light seemed closer than they ever had before I stood up but felt no fear no presence laying behind me or overwhelming fear boiling over.

I walked towards them with ease as they sat there, dangling their open arms. I needed the comfort and warmth more than ever. My walk transitioned into a slow, awkward jog as they moved closer while I did as well. Jogging turned into a sprint, as I raised my hand up, hoping it would maybe reach out and pull me into bliss. I got closer and closer, certain that I would finally find out what was just ahead of me all this time. I was nearly there, arm stretched out to let sweet relief in, but as my fingertips were inches away, I felt the rip of unforgiving teeth sink into my leg, followed by a violent force dragging me back down the road I'd run down so many times. Gravel buried into my skin, and

and painful scrapes screamed as I flew backwards. I felt my body form into thousands of shapes and unfold as I tumbled along the road. Jaws clenched tightly on me. I flew back into the darkness and those lights dimmed and dimmed and dimmed until they were about a speck of light poking through a hole in my curtains

as morning carried me back into the wall. Even though Mary was gone, I do not find myself without company. Shuffling noises throughout the house and images of blonde hair flying by my peripherals kept me from complete loneliness. Not to mention, I had a dog just outside my home to greet me whenever I desired.

Truly the American dream. Spending my days in a haze, I neglected to clean up any of my messes or even pay any of my bills. My water and electricity were cut off, and I spent some time sitting in a dark, unventilated house as I was buried in my own filth. I had to watch myself suffer, to fill myself with a jaded sense of justice. After a week or so of sitting in an empty house, trying my best to ignore the present in my house, and charging my phone at local diners, my landlord came by.

I was greeted by furious pounding on the door, and I opened to you. it up. He stood there, his angry expression, quickly turning to one of worry. I haven't got your check for the rent last month, and the most recent payment is almost due, he said to me. I'm sorry, sir, I said in an empty tone, and invited him inside. He followed me in, and I could feel his eyes sweeping over the heaps of garbage kept there by my neglect. I brushed off some trash and found my checkbook. promptly writing him out a check for the last few months, with a little extra for his trouble. Is everything okay?

He asked me. His genuine concern showing. Everything is great, I spat back. He looked into my eyes with familiarity, and it looked like he wanted to say something to me. But he quickly turned and made his way out. I slammed the door behind him and bolted it shut. My heart jumped after I slammed the door shut when I heard a voice from the kitchen. Who was that?

I sat there staring towards the other end of the house, wondering if I just hallucinated it. Silence began to grow in volume as I just sat still for long minutes. I gathered up the courage to patrol the house to maybe get something to show itself. I checked the spare room. the bathroom and every closet possible, just to see if anything would happen. I made my way to the door leading to the back porch, and as I slid it open, I heard Mary's voice just behind me. What are you doing? I nearly jumped out of my skin, but tried to maintain an appearance of composure.

Is that you? I quietly responded. At first nothing answered back, but several several sessions. seconds later, a monotone, layered version of Mary's voice crawled into my ears. It's me. Tears started to roll down my face, as I could feel the crushing presence of it standing just inches behind me. I miss you so much, I sobbed out. I am always here, the lifeless tone spoke to me. I turned around to see an empty,

The sweet voice of my old companion rang through the house endlessly for two days. They always brought me to a place of serenity before slamming me back onto the hard floor to look up to an empty home. Her voice was music to my ears, even though I knew none of it was real, at least real outside of my own head. If I couldn't feel her touch, then maybe I could take advantage of it not being able to tell my own and state of consciousness. I needed her, and it knew this. It had taken her away. I tried my best for days to reach out to Mary.

I would send her messages expressing my regret and apologising profusely. But I was only ever greeted with an empty inbox, in between times of waking up after prolonged periods of sleep. Please, I need you more than ever. Just answer me. I said to her one morning after waking up from the endless nightmares I was enduring. I sat there, staring at my phone for what turned out to be several hours, only to see nothing but my sent message was delivered.

I stared into my phone screen as the battery reached 1% and then died. I am alone. Or I'd had enough and couldn't stand the constant. I left my pricks and prods at my insecurities. I left my house early the next morning, headed into the nearest gun shop to find something that could provide some comfort, whether it serve as protection or as an exit. After a brief conversation with a store tenant,

I paid and went home. I waited the time needed before being able to receive my goods. After receiving it, I just sat it on my nightstand, and just looked at it for a while, the bright silver colour sticking out in my dark room like a sore thumb. I reached for it a few times, but would pull back as the small part of me that held self-preservation screamed at me. As I held the box of bullets in my hand, turning them over, procrastinating, I heard a sudden knock at the door. Stattled, I sat up and opened the door to see the landlord standing there. I'm not sure what he was doing on my porch.

I blurted out. Did my check not go through? No, it went through just fine, he responded, motioning for me to let him inside, and I obliged. He walked in, taking in the disarray that the house had fallen into. He sat at my kitchen table, seeming to go over what to say in his head. Things were starting to feel tense,

he sat at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers nervously on the surface. So, um, you know, I used to live in this house, his voice breaking the heavy silence. His frankness caught me a bit off guard. He looked at me, but I couldn't seem to formulate an appropriate response. About ten years ago, me and my wife bought this house. He paused as if to collect himself, looking out the wind. window with a look of reflection on his face. I sat there waiting to hear the rest of what he had to say, but he just

turned and looked at me. His eyes shot down quickly, and he rubbed his hand down his face as he let out a deep, raspy exhale. I didn't know if I should say anything, but he wasn't really giving me much to go off of. He sat there, looking down, his eyes occasionally darting around the house. And his eyes stopped on the doorway to my room.

and stuck there for what felt like minutes. Right as I was about to speak up to break the silence, he finally continued. We moved in here shortly after marrying. Lucille was an amazing woman. She was about the only bright spot in my life. He said, as his closing words were choking up. Was? I asked, not really knowing where this was going.

His mouth open, like he was going to say something. but he just sat there, not able to pull out any words. I stared at him as he stared into nothingness. A long silence ensued, and I felt a deep sadness overtake the air. I stood there, uncomfortable, watching this grown man seeming to hold back tears as I noticed his gaze had shift back to my bedroom doorway. If you don't mind, could I see your bedroom?

he inquired. Normally I would treat this as an imposition, or at least an invasion of my privacy, but I really wanted to escape this awkward scene. Um, sure, I said, with a bit of uncertainty in my voice. He picked himself up and walked by me. He reached for the door, turned it,

and watched it slowly open. I looked at him as he stood in the doorway, his height nearly reaching the bottom of the frame, He reached his hand out and ran it down the rugged wood. I sat there for several minutes, as my landlord laid still, swimming in what I assumed to be old memories of when he had lived here. What happened to Lucille? I blurted out without thinking, regretting it immediately,

as it was clear that something tragic had occurred. He turned back and made eye contact. She died. he said without hesitation. I was about to apologize before he said, Thank you, and briskly walked out of the house. I watched from my bedroom window as Derek entered his truck, started it and floored it out of the driveway in one fluid motion.

I look back at my only companions, as they glowed in the unlit room and proceeded to slither my way under the dirty sheets. I didn't really know what to think at first of this visit. It was obvious that there was something I wasn't being told. I sat around the house for a few days, in the cold emptiness, just mulling over all of the possibilities, the uncertainty beginning to nag at me. What could he have wanted? I thought to myself for a few days. I sat alone in the darkness, wallowing in my depression, all the while hearing Mary's voice echoing throughout the house.

It was toying with me once more, but I was so numb to it that I barely even dignified any of it with a response. I'd truly grown to hate this thing that had corrupted every fibre of my being. I no longer found joy in anything. The last of my optimism had been thoroughly snuffed out, and I was waking up angry that I was still alive. Desperate for some kind of answer, I decided to make my way to my landlord. house. I pulled into his driveway, right behind his blue Ford pickup, and made my way up his driveway. I knocked on his door and stepped back, waiting. No answer as minutes passed. I knocked again and called out. Hey, is anyone home? No response. I was confused as I looked back to be reminded that his

car was in the driveway. I sat there. waiting for a little bit, but still nothing. I sat on the porch steps and looked out at the woods, but unfortunately there was something in them. Even though it was the middle of the day, I could see that bright glow of eyes staring at me from the tree life. Those eyes that I'd come to loathe, the harbingers of misery, looked directly at me.

I shot up and pounded on the door. Hello, please, is there anyone home? I yelled out with urgency in my voice. I turned back and saw it standing at the end of the driveway just behind my car. Ready to bust down the door, I grabbed the knob and turned it with great force. To be surprised that it was unlocked as I nearly fell through the doorway and into the house. Getting my bearings as I picked myself up, I stared inside. It was eerily silent.

Every step I took seemed to echo a thousand times over as I planted each step into the creaking wooden floor. Hello, I repeated once more. I looked around and I noticed that a pair of boots that he was always wearing standing by the door, along with his large set of keys sitting on a nearby coffee table. The silence in the house was absolutely suffocating. A persistent ringing in my ears that you get in a deep quiet. Quiet was becoming insufferable, and I found myself feeling drawn to one of the bedroom doors on the other side of the kitchen.

I slowly made my way towards it. My footsteps so loud that I felt as though the wooden floors were crack under me any second. I reached the doorway and pushed it open. I sat there, just outside the doorway, full of apprehension. Something was telling me not to go into this room, but I come this far, and I would come this far, wasn't going to just turn back now. I begrudgingly stepped through the entrance, and there he was. There was my landlord, sprawled across his bed, dried blood coated his arms and neck. He slid his wrists and throat, a horrible look of sadness covered his face, his eyes still red from tears.

I fell back against the wall behind me. The smell of the smell. of decay only just now hitting me, as if it was waiting for my presence. I covered my mouth and gagged as I went over what I should do in my head. I reached for my phone to call the police, only to be reminded that it hadn't been charged in days due to my electricity being shut off. I groaned in frustration as I struggled to take my eyes off the lifeless body in front of me. But that's when I noticed the piece of paper sitting just next to me. my landlord on the nightstand. Still covering my mouth, I made my way over and snatched it up. I miss you so much. I can never forgive myself for leaving you when you needed me the most.

I love you so much, and I hate myself for knowing you aren't around to forgive me. I can't live knowing how I left you, thinking about how much you just needed someone there. I can't go on with this life without you, and the chance that I might see you after this is what brought me to this. Please be there. I'll never leave your side again, the note read. I read it over a few times and assumed this was concerning his former wife. So, how did she die? I wondered to myself, as the whisper evaporated into the room.

I pulled the paper down and rested it back. on the table and what I saw may be flinch. Sitting on his bedside table in a picture frame was a photograph of a woman. My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was that same woman. That woman who I'd seen at the edge of the pond and who had been patrolling through the darkness of my house all day and night. Those bright turquoise eyes struck me with such distinction, there was no mistaking. I turned and sprinted out of the house,

so terrified that I'd all but disregarded the corpse that had laid in front of me just moments ago. I ran out of the front door, and down the driveway, and in the corner of my eye, I could see that monster standing just behind my car. I tried to ignore it, and jumped in, and

flawed it into reverse, hoping I would maybe run over that thing, standing just behind it. But I was let down, I felt my car fly backwards unhindered. I threw the gear into drive and slammed my foot on the gas pedal, looking into the rearview mirror, seeing those horrible, horrible eyes staring at me from behind the car. I flew down unpaved backroads with no regard for my own safety,

filled with dread, knowing that the home I was returning to was inhabited by cruelty. I barely hit the brakes in time as I sped into the drive, way, just sparing the side of my house from the front of my car. I ran out of the car, but there, in the window, just beside the front door, stood the woman. Her blonde hair was draped over her face, as she stood motionless. Lucille, I muttered, and the figure quickly turned and shifted out of view. I stood there for a moment before hearing the crunch of gravel behind me. I didn't turn around at first. I knew what was behind me. I heard a few more slow steps, and then I turned around.

It stood there, not even ten feet from me. There I was again, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Right then, I heard the front door open, and it creaked as if it were releasing decades of neglect. The beast stared, all taking some of the beast. slow, deliberate steps towards me as I matched them with my own steps backwards. I turned and sprinted through the open door and slammed it shut behind me. I looked out the window to see that it was gone. But right then I felt that familiar cold hand rest on my shoulder.

Only sharp nails dug deep into me, puncturing my skin. Terror and exhaustion overtook me. I lost consciousness. Those same nightmares infested my dreams, and I woke up every hour, more tired than the last time I'd fallen asleep. I was, eventually, able to force myself off of the hard floor and into my bed, though it would do little to help my sleep. Dreams of the pond, and of that road, presented themselves every time I fell back into a slumber. But the more I ran towards the lights in my dreams, the more I felt myself strong. straying away from reality as I stewed in a puddle of my own delusion when I woke.

My new friend, laying on the nightstand, was tempting me with more comfort as the time passed, and I had to pull my hand back several times from reaching for its help. I poured my way through another bottle as I laid in the accumulated filth I'd neglected to discard. As I felt the last of my reserves swirl in my mouth and down my throat, I heard another knock at the door. In a haze, I stood up from my pile and made my way towards the door. But as I approached, I stopped. It's me. Can you let me inside?

I heard from just outside the front door. I just stood there. The same phrase repeated itself, but followed by, It's freezing out here. Can you open the door? Of course I recognised that voice. I'd recognize that sweet voice anywhere. Leave, I hissed.

The voice repeated itself again and again and again. Leave, I repeatedly shouted at a door over and over. Every now and then it would change it up a bit with a, please, and I would change things up with a, fuck off. I grew tired of this and just went back to laying in bed, covering my ears with dirty pillows, but the knocking persisted, occasionally growing louder and more urgent over a course of several hours. After it appeared to finally give up for a few minutes, I was sitting in a comfortable silence for once, before I heard my sweet Mary's voice from the door

whimper out. Don't you love me? I'd had enough. I grabbed the revolver from my nightstand and fired off all six shots right at the door in quick-sacrower. session. I laid there as hot smoke billowed in front of my face and felt instant regret. I'd shot holes clear through my front door at some imaginary force. I paced around my living room with my hands on my head, still wrapped around the handle of my magnum. Oh, I screamed out, as if I'd finally woken up to all the insanity I had conjured. My ears were still ringing, and I made my way to the front door to see the damage. I didn't really know what I was expecting, since I'd shot a full clip of my gun through it, but there was definitely some serious damage. I slammed my hand

on the door, still clenching the gun, and let my head rest against the wood. Light poured through the newly made openings, and my eye happened to catch something out of place through the nearest hole. They stared through and tried to discern the palette of colours meshed into a distorted cluster. I swung the door open and the sunlight all but disintegrated my eyes. As they adjusted, I glanced down and everything in my world crashed. Mary laid there, riddled with bullet holes as she weased and gurgled on the front porch. "'Mary!' I exclaimed, tears already pouring down my face. She reached up and caressed my face and smiled.

"'It's okay,' she said. "'No, Mary, no, please, don't leave like this. I'm so sorry. "'Please, we can fix this. Please, don't go. Please, don't go!' I yelled. "'Everything will be okay,' she repeated to me. "'Don't go!' I screamed again. I sat there and cried on her, just holding her and praying to God that she wasn't about to die right here in front of me. Not like this.

I held Mary, rocking back and forth on the porch, just trying to comfort her like she had for me so many times before. She laid there in my arms, slowly slipping away from me as I pleaded for her to stay. I can't lose you. I screamed as I bawled my eyes out. She looked at me with those deep, compassionate eyes That had grounded me time and time again Tears rolled down her face As the brightness in her eyes started to dim

Mary, please stay with me But it was too late I felt the last of her life slip out of her And she slumped in my arms I just sat there holding her for a while And pressed my head onto hers Inconsolable I carried her inside and laid her on our bed

and I loaded one last shell into the revolver. I laid next to Mary's lifeless body and kissed her once on the forehead before sticking the gun into my mouth and pulling the trigger. Everything went black and I waited to see what the beyond held for me. It felt as though I was awake but I just couldn't open my eyes.

But then I saw exactly what I did. didn't want to see. Two lights materialized in front of me, and a road formed beneath my feet. No, I said to myself, no. If I had been sent to hell for taking my own life, was this going to be it? Was I going to be chasing these lights for all eternity? I fell onto the road, defeated. I couldn't go on like this anymore. But I guess there really was no exit. I waited to hear it begin its chase behind me, precursing my subsequent chase to safety. But I didn't hear anything.

I stood up and looked back. Like always, there was nothing but darkness behind me. I just stood still as long minutes droned on. But I didn't hear anything. I actually started to feel relieved, almost happy, in fact. Maybe I finally escaped it, I thought. Almost needing to hold back a grin from bearing on my face, I began to walk towards those two lights.

As I made my way, I could hear Mary's voice. Sweetie, where are you? And I'm over here. Come see me already. I've been waiting. I couldn't help but smile. So sure I was just steps away from my eternal happiness. I made my way towards those lights.

At last, I was going to reach them. I just knew it. I couldn't wait. Those warm, inviting gloves that had seemed so elusive for so long, all but hanging right in front of me, so close that I felt I could pluck them from the ether and hold them right in front of my eyes. I was approaching them, closer than I'd ever been.

They were climbing high. and higher as I advanced, and I started to feel as though they were out of reach yet again. I was right in front of them, and they stood above me, so close but still somehow unattainable. I reached up to them, almost as a plea for the other side to take me beyond. I swayed my hand back and forth in the air for a little while, unsure of what I was supposed to do. However, I felt my hand run across something broad and rugged. I was surprised and took a step back, but only to be greeted by a sudden rush of air. I stared up at the lights inquisitively, and I heard a deep exhale, as I felt another rush of air

blow through me. I turned around, heartbroken to see if it was behind me yet again, but there was nothing. Again, I felt that rush of air, accompanied by another deep exhale. It hit me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't want to recognize it, but I turned back to where the wind originated from, and I looked up to those glows. My heart sunk. All the hope that had built up after pulling the trigger was pulled out from under me. Those two lights hanging above me were now glowing that putrid shade of yellow. That unrelenting hunger that preyed upon my eyes. mind for months towered above me, mocking me. I saw a colossal mouth bear enormous disgusting teeth,

each one as big as me, while the enormity of the beast imposed itself onto my soul. I swear it was smiling at me. The mouse shot towards me and crushed every bone in my body, my blood exploding into a fine mist in every direction before it swung me around and threw me onto the road. My body bloody and broken, and mind weathered down to grains of sand. All I could think of was Mary. How much love she'd given me, and how she was the greatest thing that had ever happened. I felt as though hell had found me. It lowered its open mouth back down and scooped me up with ease, and my body rolled and turned, bouncing off its rancid gums and rotting teeth, as it pulverized every last bit of me until I felt myself slide down into the darkness. The darkness slowly deteriorated

away as I began to slip back into consciousness. I stood there in my room, gun clenched in one hand with the other on the doorknob. No more holes in the door, Mary no longer laying lifeless in my bed. I grabbed my book and flipped the page I'd left my clue on. You are awake. And with that, I hastily stuffed my clothes into trash bags, along with the other essentials, and I made my way to the door to hopefully just leave this misery behind me. An ear-splitting voice screaming, Don't go! Repeated itself from behind me, nearly shaking the house with its immense volume.

I fumbled for the doorknob, dropping my trash-bags in the process, and swung the door open. All of this time I could still hear that voice screaming in my head. But when I exited the house, that nightmare was sitting just beyond the porch, staring at me. I pulled out the gun from the depths of my bags, flipped the safety off and fired that one bullet that it still had left in it, trying to take the life that had all but taken mine. It connected, hitting it almost right between the eyes. I heard it whimper for a second before slumping to the ground. I didn't trust that it was really gone, so I sprinted at the car, not wanting to fall for its tricks.

When I got into my car and drove off, those words continued to bellow in my head. Don't go, don't go! I sped down the road, unable to resist seeing what I was leaving behind. I glanced into the rear-view mirror, and there it stood in the middle of the road. Still as a statue, as always. hulking and intimidating. I pressed my foot harder on the gas and kept on going. I didn't know where I was going,

but as long as it was away from that god-forsaken place, it didn't matter. Every so often, I glanced back in the rear-view mirror, just to see it standing in the road behind me as my car flew by at dangerous speeds. I made my way through several states, staying at various motels, as I spent most of the night cracking blinds, in apprehension of what may come.

A week went by before I decided to dial my grandparents to let them know I was alone and just needed somewhere to be for a while as I got my life back together. They were understanding, as always, and wanted me there as soon as possible. I made my way to them

in a few days, and all the while, I seemed to be free. I slept soundly for the first time in months, and I was feeling great. My energy was back to a normal, level, I was sleeping and I hadn't had a drink in almost two weeks. Despite this, paranoia was still lingering in my mind, as I was always waking up by shooting out of the bed, trying to catch my breath. The smile would form on my face, as I was grateful to have made it out alive,

but the one big thing that bothered me was that, in reality, it had won. It got me to pull the trigger. I stayed at my grandparents for nearly a month, feeling myself gain back my sanity. I felt great, and it was good to spend some time with my family after not seeing them for all these months. It also felt good to finally leave behind my persistent attachments that were so deeply rooted. I even started talking to Mary again, and while she was wary at first, I was able to slowly earn back her trust. I was feeling like my old self again. I was just lucky that she was such a forgiving soul to give me another chance. I was sitting in my grandparents' living room, watching some TV, when I heard a faint knock

at the front door. I muted the TV, not sure if I'd actually heard it. I waited a second and again, a very faint knock emanated from the opposite side of the door. Must be one of their neighbours, I thought, as it may have been an older woman weakly. tapping her knuckles on the door. I opened the door, but only to see nothing in front of me. I poked my head out and looked around to see if there was anyone nearby, but nothing showed itself. I slowly closed the door and made my way back to the couch to continue watching TV. After watching for several minutes, I heard a similar light knocking on the door again.

This time I quickly picked myself up to swing the door open. At first I saw nothing, just my grandparents' front yard. But as I swept my eyes over the area, I saw someone at the end of the long driveway that connected to the walkway. It was a woman, long dark hair blanketing her face as she stood painfully still facing me. I knew the second I looked at her, but it was Mary.

I slowly made my way towards her. Mary, I called out. Her body slightly twitched with my words. Feeling a little uneasy, I stopped about 20 feet from her. Her face focused downward as her hair dangled over. Mary, what are you doing here? I pressed. I came to see you. Her voice rang out.

out, music to my ears, to hear that sweet sound once again. I advanced towards her, but as I did, her appearance started to deteriorate. With each step, her face weathered at her hair grayed. I gazed upon her, and her clothes were now tattered and ripped apart. Mud and blood caked across her skin. She looked up at me with familiar despair in her eyes. claw marks and blood strewn all around her lovely figure. Mary!

Her eyes slowly turned from the soft brown to an electric yellow, that same yellow that I had come to despise. I'm always here, a layered voice spoke out. I closed my eyes, hoping that this wasn't real. Look at me, a distorted voice. I spat. I opened my eyes and Mary was gone, but in her place stood that monster I thought I would never have to see again. Hatred and misery burned brightly in its eyes as it stood there, rigid as a block of wood. I recognised the underlying feelings in its eyes. Abandonment. The same look I would

see in the mirror when I was young and filled with hate. It shot towards me, and I turned and sprinted back into the house, stumbling over my own steps as I desperately scrambled to locate the book that signalled my state of consciousness. I hadn't needed to open it in weeks, and couldn't remember where I'd left it. As desperate clawing and growling came from the other side of my bedroom door, I finally found it blending in with the shelf. I furiously turned the pages over and over to gain clarity of where I was. Every bit of my soul withered away when I found the poem

and read the bottom of the page. Wake up! And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast.

That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.