Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep266: Episode 266: Jungle and Forest Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 14, 2025

Use the promo code SUPERBAD for 10% off your t-shirt! https://dr-creepens-vault.creator-spring.com/listing/the-devil-is-in-the-detail First up this evening, we have ‘Jungle of the Living Dead’, an original work by Jrubas, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/Jrubas/ https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/s5lvo8/jungle_of_the_living_dead/ Next up, we have ‘The Legend of Michigan’s Dogman’, a wonderful tale by CR Productions, kindly shared with me via Dr. Creepen’s Vault and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Legend_of_Michigan%27s_Dogman https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:CR_Productions Today’s third terrifying tale of horror is the incredible ‘The Were-Witch of the Howling Woods’ by the ever-wonderful The Vesper’s Bell, shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Were-Witch_of_the_Howling_Woods https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:The_Vesper%27s_Bell Our penultimate tale this evening is 'We Went to a Restricted Area in Brazil's Forest' by Beast Boy Suraj, kindly shared with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission.

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. J jungles and forests have always stirred fear in the human mind because they are worlds where nature is in control, not us. Their dense canopies swallow light, turning day into a half-shadowed night, or tangled undergrowth heights both predators and unseen dangers. Every sound, a crack of a branch, rustling the leaves, feels amplified, and the mind fills in the darkness with imagined threats. These places are ancient, primal and indifferent to human presence,

reminding us of a time when survival meant respecting and fearing the wild, as we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Jungle of the Living Dead. By J. Rubers.

when night no longer passes where I do not think of death. Sitting in the uncomfortable, padded chair by the window, or propped up in bed and staring vacantly at light night infomercials. Well, my mind wanders to the topic like a moth to the flame. I'm not a morbid person by nature, but surrounded with death and illness, I can't help thinking dark thoughts. I'll be 98 in June. and I've spent the last seven years in a state-run nursing home where death and dementia are an ever-present fact of life.

Every couple of days, it seems, someone, who I play cards or checkers with falls, by the way. At night, ghostly moans and mad screaming drift through the long, echoy halls, and if you aren't careful, it'll get to you. Nursing homes are where people come to die. A lot of the patients here don't waste any time doing it. I made my peace with death a long time ago, and don't mind dying. I refuse to turn into a drooling, shilling vegetable like the ones you hear yelling in the night about ghosts, children running around their rooms, and Nazis peering through their windows. I keep my mind sharp by reading and typing on my old typewriter. Rests on a table beneath the window, or I can pause to look out at the parking lot and the grounds beyond.

I'm mainly write letters, journal entries, and the occasional western. Well, the westerns are very good, but they give me something to do. Having accepted the inevitable, I do not dwell on my mortality. But lately, I've been thinking a lot about it. Not because I fear it, no, but because of the dreams. In nightmares I see the faces of the dead, pale, dirty and splatter. with blood, I see their black glinting eyes and feel their cold hands closing around my throat. I wake in a state of panic and my heart thunders so hard and I'm sure it'll give out on me.

One of these days I expected to. It may even happen tonight or the next night. And before it does, I want to tell this story, for it's this event from my life that haunts my sleep. I've never told it to anyone else, and All of the other men who were there are dead now, and I alone bear its burden. I don't know if I'm a good enough writer to convey the terror of what I saw. But I guess that doesn't matter. I just want to get it off my chest. It was early 1943, and the Japanese bombed our fleet of Pearl Harbor.

Thousands of young men across the U.S. heeded Uncle Sam's call and joined the service. I was one of them. I was 18 at the end of 41 and enlisted in the Marine Corps. I was sent to Paris Island in 42 and learned how to shoot, kill, starve, and keep going even when I felt like my body was going to fall apart like an old jalopy. In boot camp they called me bugs after bugs bunny because of my tea. Our drill sergeant had a nickname for everyone. Mine was one of the milder ones.

When I was trained up, I shipped out to the Pacific in the summer of four years. The Jabs at the time had overspread much of the region with little resistance and set up shop on many of the little islands in that big ocean. Now, when I say Jap, I'm not picking on them, it's just shorthand. Before I met my first jab, I feared them, but after, well, I respected them. They were the toughest sons of bitches you ever wanted to meet. They were brave, loyal and committed to their cause. he never ever saw a jab dessert or carer in the face of battle of course we didn't know that as we plough through the Pacific on our way to fight them

we were young full of piss and vinegar we thought we'd mop them up in a week they were weak we thought tiny real jerks well we quickly learned that we were wrong two weeks after departing los angeles the last great hour outpost before the vast ocean, we landed on an island called Mukiko. It was a rocky hump of jungle where the Japs is set up an airbase and a radar station that tracked incoming planes. I first spotted it from a distance, and backlit against the piercing blue ocean and dusty sky.

It looked like a nice place to vacation. Well, until we started bombing it. For almost 12 hours, a dozen ships hammered the island. The big guns booming and spitting, firing hard enough to knock you off your feet. Our planes hit it from the air, and early in the afternoon some fourteen hundred men climbed over the side, down big rope nets and piled into landing crafts.

Pudging my rifle to my chest and watching that little strip of land getting closer and closer, all the bragging I'd done on the ship came back to bite me. At least the others felt that way too. They were grimly silence as the little boats puttered towards the shore. No one's speaking, everyone staring fixedly ahead, wondering, Am I going to die today? Well, the landing went smoothly enough. The boats reached the coastline, the doors dropped open, and we stormed up the sandy beach.

There were machine gun nests just inside the jungle, and they came to life, chopping foliage-like salad. We threw ourselves to the sand and fired back. I caught a glimpse of a couple of japs in their tan uniforms. It was the most surreal sight I'd ever seen. We'd heard so much about them. I'd taught them up among ourselves until they weren't men anymore, but mythical creatures. It was like seeing Bigfoot or a pack of unicorns. After the fighting on the beach, we tramped into the foreboding jungle.

You met some resistance, but made it to the airfield without much trouble. It was laid out and a little. little grassy valley. The buildings were abandoned, rice still warm on the stoves. We took down the imperial flag and ran up the stars and stripes, everyone cheering. We lost 25 men that day, and we thought the battle was over. Well, we were wrong. The C-Bs came in the next day and rebuilt the runway and the earthworks that had been destroyed in the bombing. The radar station fell that day after a hell of her fight. and they started working on that too.

We thought we'd flushed the Japs out entirely, but they kept popping up. They'd attack with rifles and grenades, and fade back into the jungle like they'd never been there at all. We sent out patrols, and they kept getting ambushed. A few of our boys even stepped in pungy pits, big holes dug in the ground filled with sharpened sticks and covered by foliage. You wouldn't notice it until one of those spikes drove through your foot.

The Japs even, smeared shit on the tip so you'd get infected we heard from somewhere high command most likely and there was a Jap unit dug in somewhere on the island I can't remember exactly where that came from it was almost 80 years ago but by our second week on the island we were carrying out daily searches for the stronghold we knew it was somewhere it was so well hidden we couldn't find it for that first week there was a lot of activity around the island Jap planes and ships came out of the wild blue,

and heavy fighting between our fleet and theirs raged for days on end. The planes never dropped bombs, only boxes, resupplying the phantom unit. We managed to cut them off, and the supply stopped coming. The hidden run attacks continued, however, so we knew that the Jap soldiers hadn't been evacuated. We didn't know how many there were, but there couldn't have been many of them, as their hideout was so well concealed that it had to be. to be small.

Slowly, the attacks dwindled, and a sense of restlessness came over the camp. He played cards and listened to the radio between patrols. He played baseball, attacked pitches of May West and Betty Grable to our walls, talked about home. I got to know some of the men pretty well during this time. There was Stevens from Louisiana, a tall, muscular roughneck with leading man good looks. Curly, a short and respectable Jew. who sounded just like curly from the Free Stooges.

I think his real name was Sam. Oh, in Washington, one of only two black men on the island. Stevens was a car chark and was always scratching up games on crates that served as tables, shirtless and chewing on a lucky strike. He'd take us for all our rations and care packages, if we let him. Of all the men in our units, he was the loudest in his dislike of Washington. He let the black men play kind. but he'd pick on him the whole time as your hand neighbor he'd asked patronizingly

during games he didn't say neighbor though he said another word that started with an no word i never much cared to hear and won't repeat well take a look at this hand he slapped down a flush and laughed around his cigarette this can buy a whole lot of watermel well washington took it in stride for the most part He told me once that if he reacted, Stevens would never let him alone, and I believed it. I've known many men like Stevens. Once they know they're getting to you, they push harder. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month.

Every day we search for the hideout and patrol of the parameters of our holdings. I remember it being well known that the men we were looking for had to be running out of supplies, but I don't remember getting a signed letter from the Navy telling us so I can't recall where it came from. Our mission became then to wade them out. One day in early September, Stevens, Curley Washington and I were on patrol well to the west of the airbase.

Being in the tropics, it was hot and humid, and within five minutes our shirts were soaked in sweat. Bugs buzzed around her heads and bright shafts of sunlight filtered through the tree-tops, dappling the jungle floor with golden coins of brilliant. Stevens was picking on Washington again, and Washington was getting tired of it. Hmm, you think the jabs like dog meat? Stevens asked. If they're so hungry, why don't we go feed him?

Washington turned around and faced him. Man, will you stop? He asked tightly. I'm getting real tired of you. Steven has plucked his cigarette from his mouth with a flourish. I was tired of you the first time I saw him. Curly and I had stopped. I started to call out for them to knock it off

when something crashed into me from the side, almost knocking me down. I spun and brought my rifle up. A Jap soldier, his tan uniform, dirty, wrinkled and hanging from his thin frame, thrashed in the leaves, trying to get up. Holy shit! Curly said. It's a Jap! Forgetting their feud, Stevens and Washington hurried over

and put their guns on him. Well, he struggled to his knees, grabbing my pant leg, looking up at me. Well, in all my time before and since, I'd never seen such fear in a man's face. His dark eyes were big and watery, and his mouth was twisted in a silent scream. Tears oozed down his hollered cheeks,

and he shook like a frightened dog. He was barely aware of our guns, as he pointed back the way he'd come and spilled out as stalled out, stream of gibberish. I didn't know what he was saying, but he sounded terrified. What's wrong with him? Curly asked. I don't know, I said.

It's a trap, Stephen said. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, pulled his forty-fire from his holster, and aimed it at the Jap's head. The Jap paled and began to sob. I knocked Stephen's arm aside. We've taken him prisoner, I said. Well, Stevens-Rour, as I tied the Jap's hands behind his back, but I ignored him.

The sun was starting to set by now when shadows felled the jungle. The Jap moaned in fear and a chill went down my spine. I looked around, spooked by his terror, but I saw nothing. We started back up the trail and a few minutes went by before the snapping of twigs off to our left stopped us. Twilight had come on rapidly, and it was hard to see through the trees. What was that? Washington asked in a whisper

I don't know I whispered back I've been holding the back of the Jap's shirt with my hand I let go and brought my rifle up the Jap let out a miserable moan and stomped his feet like a child he said something to me that I didn't understand

but his mix of fear and frustration formed a universal language all of its own Mortwig snapped and I looked around and in my memory It happened like this. An errant shaft of moonlight suffused the forest and as I turned I caught sight of a terrible face watching me from the bush. Its skin was white and streaked with dirt. Its mouth opened wide in animal anticipation. Blood ringed its tattered lips and saliva coated its crooked and broken teeth.

Although it has to be a trick of the memory, I swear his eyes were shining yellow like a big cat's. and that smell of death and decay rose from it in sickly sweet ways. I gasped, and suddenly they were on top of us a half-dozen ghouls in shredded uniforms, their skeletal hands clutching their bony ribs leading the way. We all screamed, and the Jap bolted up the path, his head bent to cut down on wind resistance. One of the things grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me forward, his mouth opening as if to suck me in. Panicking, I smashed the butt of my rifle into its sunken stomach.

Another grabbed me from behind and bit down on my shoulder. Pain shot into the corner of my head and blood spurted from the wounds. Washington fell back against a tree, three ghouls shambling toward him. He brought his rifle up and fired, hitting one in the chest and knocking it down. Stevens gaped in horror, then whipped out his forty-five as two more of the things advanced on him. He shot one, and it dropped, and the other lunged at him and sank its teeth into his arm. Stephen screamed, then rammed his knee into its chest, unlatching its jaw. I slammed my elbow back into the gul's stomach, and it released me.

I shoved him away and threw myself frantically down the path, the others following me. What the fuck? Stephen screamed. Oh, that fuck I tried to bite me. Washington kept saying over and over again. His tone shocked and offended. Curly was blubbering like a baby. We didn't look back, but we knew they were coming after us.

We could hear their excited hissing and deathly moans, so much like the moans here at the nursing home. We came across the Jap a little while. later. He lay on the path, dead. Three of those things kneeling over him, their hands shoved him to his gaping stomach cavity. What the fuck? Washington asked, disgusted. The things looked up at us. Seemed to delight in our presence. Stephen shot all three of them, and we continued running. When we reached the airfield, a group of men ran down to meet us, drawn by the screaming and gunfire. We told our commander, Commander Casey, what had happened?

He didn't believe us. Masters, he asked, as though we hadn't heard right. You boys going soft in my head. No, sir, Stephen said, and he held out his arm. Look, Commander Casey examined the wound. Just then an animated chatter went through the crowd. In the moonlight the things that had chased us stork from the forest, some of them carrying swords.

They were little more than shadows, and the noises they made came straight from the pit of hell. We saw five of them, then ten, then more, all staggering out of the jungle and spreading out like cockroaches. The tower shone a searchlight on them, and they came alive running at us full speed with their swords. In the light they were white and red with death and blood, and their bodies were little more than bones held together by sallow skin. The machine guns opened up with a roar, and bullets cut down many in the first ranks. Men grabbed their rifles and took up position on the edge of the camp, kneeling and firing as the living dead advanced. More came, throwing themselves mindlessly at us, with no regard for their own safety. The boys with rifles broke and ran, scared, and I saw one of the things jam its sword through the belly of an American and rip his throat with his teeth.

or by now every man had come down to join the fight one of the things came at me and i took his head off with a burst of fire one tackled Washington and scrambled on top of him before it could bite him though Stevens had jammed the barrel of his forty-five against its head and pulled the trigger painting the grass with his blood Stevens reached out his hand come on neighbor move your ass Washington took his hand and Stevens helped him up Soon the dead stop coming, and the ground was littered with corpses, some moving and snapping their teeth, others dead. One of the things was only hidden the legs, and our boys took it prisoner. I can't remember how long it took to find this out, but in my memory it happened that very same night. Those things, the walking dead, were men.

the japs held up in their bunker and cut off from japan with no hope of escape or resupply had gone mad with hunger her bodies wasted slowly away and their minds did too days stretched into weeks and the hunger pangs became too great consuming their minds bodies and souls finally like wild animals they turned on each other a few managed to keep their wits about them and escape, but the others killed and ate their fellow soldiers before spreading out into the jungle. Well, I've thought often of those men over the years. The terror and hopelessness, the deep, aching pain of starvation, of their skin shrinking around their bones, of them slowly going mad in a dark, subterranean pit thousands of miles from their homes and families. Starving the enemy out that way wasn't a war crime, but it feels like one. And when I think of dying, I think of that face I glimpsed in the jungle, the one with yellow eyes and ragged lips.

I think of it. A lot. Somewhere in the north woods darkness, a creature walks upright. And the best advice you may ever get is never to go out at night. The Legend of Michigan's Dogman by C.R. production. The Song. Well, a very strange thing happened after the poem was aired on radio on April 1, 1987, and it became obvious the story was not going to fade away.

The first two times the song was played, there was no viewer reaction or calls. Cook and O'Malley were prepared to let the fail prank die, when suddenly the phone line started lighting up. People were calling in and asking about that weird song. Listeners asked, who did that song on the dogman thing and when are you going to play it again o'malley took a call from an elderly man who stated that he was chilled to the bone after hearing the song because he'd actually seen a similar creature years before well that was the first of many citing reports that would

pour into the station over the next few weeks scores of people told of stories and encounters with a creature that was very much like cook's fabricated dogman within which one month, the legend of the dogman became the most requested song on the air, and for a short time was added into the regular rotation of the music. Other stories began to surface and be compared to the Michigan Dogman story. A century old, a mysterious Indian legend revealed shocking similarities. A French fur trader's diary from 1804 told of an encounter with Lupe Garou. A letter from 1857 described a creature that stood up. upright like a man yet bore the countenance of a grey wolf a real dogman sighting investigated by

lake county sheriff's deputy jeff chamberlain who was accompanied by department of natural resources officer ron mccarty was picked up and reported on by mark manantette a reporter for the cadillac evening news then other news outlets picked up the story and it was later fed down the associated press newswire and thus was picked up by newspapers all across a It was even mentioned as a strange coincidence in Paul Harvey's national news and comments broadcast. McCarty called the TV station, WTCM, stating that he and Chamberlain had openly joked about how this sighting would fit in with the seventh-year prophecy made in the song. McCarty's voice would later appear in the beginning of the 10th anniversary version of the song,

The Legend of 97. Suddenly, the legend soared into national prominence and became a hit-stop. song once again, only this time on a much larger scale. Request for copies came in from all 50 states and around the world. Eventually the master tape, never considered to be of real value, had been destroyed, and Steve Cook went into the studio again, this time with an upgraded keyboard, and recorded the song a second time. A few changes were made to the lyrics to update the legend for summer. When it was finished, the second master recording was shipped to Southfield Michigan for mass production.

The first 500 copies arrived a week later, and sold out in 12 days. The legend quickly become hot property, with record stores and radio stations across the country calling the station requesting copies. A large record

company offered to record and promote the song, and Steve Cook faced the difficult decision of whether to release the legend on a national scale, or to keep it local and manageable. Steve chose to keep it local. The music and lyrics were copyrighted by Mindstage Productions, Cook's marketing and advertising company. More and more copies of the tape, which was originally priced at $3,

was sold, and in the fall of 1987, WTCM held an art contest which allowed amateur artists the chance to submit works depicting what they thought the dogman looked like. There were over a hundred entries. Some were exceptional, but by far the most chilling and dramatic, was an 11 by 17 charcoal sketch done by Brian Risenki, who was only 23 years old at the time had never had a formal art lesson. Well, the song was never intended to be a marketable vehicle for profit, and Cook made the decision early on that any profits earned derived from its sale would be donated to charity. The first charity was the Traverse City Cherryland Humane Society, which scored two and a half thousand dollars towards drilling a new water well,

and the remodeling of the adult dog facility, which included. new floor tile and pens. In 2001, Cook was introduced to Brian Manly, founder of ACPour, a no-kill animal rescue program that specializes in lost causes. A.C. Poor takes in animals that have been injured, abused, or that have used up the maximum boarding time in traditional facilities and are about to be euthanized. They rehabilitated animals through a unique foster care network and eventually placed them in a loving home. Now, Cook was so important, pressed with the AC-Bore program, he shifted all donations from the proceeds of the legend to their cause, and thus the legend of the dogman's legacy lives on for animals in need.

While the legend has never been formally distributed for airplay on other radio stations, it's been heard across the USA and the world. Many young adults grew up hearing it and remember it scaring them at summer campfire storytelling sessions. The legend has inspired movie screenplays, stage-produced. numerous books, term papers, at least one master's thesis, and countless classroom projects at all grey levels. In spite of the initial belief that the song would be a radio bit designed to run one day only, interest in the legend continues to grow. Steve Cook receives 10 to 20 reported

sightings each year, many supported by dramatic evidence. Perhaps the best description of the legacy of the legend came from WTCM morning host Jack O'Malley. This song has been firmly woven into the fabric of Northern Michigan. It's part of the culture now, part of the folklore. The legend will be here long after we're

gone. The Gay Bull film. This is the first recorded evidence of the dogman. In an estate sale, an old film was found in a box. After viewing it, a home video of a strange attack was discovered. The film shows a young

filming normal family stuff until a truck ride passing by a field shows a creature of some sort they stop the truck and film the creature until it charges to attack the attack is somewhat caught on tape and even shows the mouth of the animal the mouth rules out ape and dog origin some people claim this is the dog man encounters big rapids It's 1961. When I was a boy, my father was the night watchman, a manufacturing plant located in a rural area between Big Rabbits and Chippewa Lake, Michigan. Our house, which, if I remember right, was a perk of the night watchman job, was across the

street from the factory. The plant building was right next to a large wilderness area of state lands. At that time, it was simply known as the Haymarsh, but now it's officially called the Haymarsh State Game Area. We didn't understand it at the time. But Dad was always getting very skittish about letting us play outside after dark. He'd sometimes talk about hearing coyotes or bears rowing around in the haymarsh when he was walking the perimeter of the building at night.

One night in the summer of 1961, Dad walked back to the house to sit on the porch and have a cup of coffee in his sweet roll. He had a good view of the entire plan property. We saw some movement near a chain-linked fence behind the building. This was approximately 3am, so he felt quite sure this person wasn't there by accident. He drew his gun and watched for a few minutes. That's when he noticed this was not a person at all, but something much taller. He said it appeared to be covered in brown, grey hair.

It had very broad shoulders in the powerful chest. It alternated between walking on four legs and then standing up on two. He said it seemed to be looking for something along the drive. driveway. He said later he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He quietly moved into the house and grabbed his codex signet 35mm camera, which was his pride and jaw. At this point, I should mention that Dad was quite a photography buff. His father had owned one in the first camera stores in Ohio, and Dad got the shutterbug from Grandpa. As he stepped back onto the front porch, the creature moved slowly along the driveway, directly under the light.

He adjusted the camera shutter for a long exposure, held it as still as he could. He said he was shaking pretty badly by then, and snapped a picture. I've enclosed a print of it in this letter. Dad said a few seconds later the thing dropped back down to all falls and slowly moved off into the woods. He sent a print to the local newspaper and sent copies to several magazines. One that I think was called Mysterion, published the photo in their spring. spring issue of 1962. Dad had a copy of the magazine for years,

but it was misplaced after he passed away. I still have the negative strip that contains this image. If you'd like to have someone examine it. I also still have Dad's Kodak Signates. I haven't shot any pictures with it for several years, but I'm pretty sure it still works. Sparta, 1987. One week, back around fall of 1987,

My two best friends and I was staying at my family's cabin, which is not far from the small town of Sparta, about 20 minutes north of Grand Rapids. My two friends left to have dinner while I stayed behind to the cabin. Following the dinner, the man headed back towards Sparta and the cabin. What happened next would shock and disturb them for years. It was dark. They were on a rural road. Suddenly both of them saw something standing by the side of the roads.

In the headlights of the car, it appeared to be a human-like figure covered in gray fur. As they got closer and passed the figure, both of them got a very good look at it. It was the size of a man, stood on two legs, and was covered head-to-toe in gray fur, and a wolf-like face. He even raised its hands and seemed to snarled them as they drove by. They said it looked like a werewolf out of some Hollywood movie. Oh, my friends didn't dare stop, just continued driving, and of course they were peppering each other with questions.

Hey, did you see that too? Was that a dog? Was that someone dressed up in a costume? And so on. As they were having this animated conversation, they passed by the sign that says, Welcome to Sparta, drove through the small main street

and continued on out of the town in the direction of my cabin. The conversation about what had just happened, and continued, when both of them looked up to see that same welcome to Sparta sign again, followed by the same main street they'd just driven through only moments ago. Well, they hadn't stopped or turned around. They'd been traveling in the same direction on the same road, but somehow, without any noticeable interruption in their journey, they'd somehow been sent backwards several miles.

Until this point, it'd be easy to dismiss this event as someone playing a job, However, the time displacement characteristic is what sets this encounter apart. While such things are well documented in UFO and alien abduction stories, it's something we've not seen before in dogman sighting reports. And he continues. I remember when they finally shot up in my cabin. There I have no later than what I expected them to, around 9 p.m. or so. I remember how animated they were about their strange encounter. I just assumed they'd seen a large dog and were telling me an embellished story in order to get a laugh.

But, 20 years later, both of them still insist this was no joke. I have no idea what to make of this story. Maybe it was just some teenagers in a werewolf costume playing pranks. Did my friends really experienced lost time afterwards? Or did they just make some wrong turns on their drive and didn't notice because they were talking and distracted? I have no idea I'd love to know if anyone else has seen similar things in the Sparta area Reed City, 1993

The area around Reed City, Michigan has been a hotbed of dogman activity This report details an event that occurred nearly 20 years ago But the witness remembers it like it was yesterday And is unshakable in her story Her name is Courtney And her encounter took place during the winter of 1993 Courtney was a teenager at the time, and was sneaking cigarettes behind her parents' home,

near Todd Lake, northeast of Reed City. The sun was setting on a clear, cold winter day. Courtney was facing a large abandoned barn on the property next door. That barns always kind of spoofing. Filled with rusty old equipment. The outer planks were all rotten, and it sank and leaned in every direction. My dad said to stay away, as the whole thing could collapse. Well, on that evening, I was standing about 50 feet from the bar.

I saw sunlight coming through the gaps in the siding. Courtney had taken her eyes off the barn for a few minutes, and then something caught her attention again. Yeah, there was some movement. The light flickered, but I couldn't really tell what it was. They turned his head back and looked straight at me. I was at least six feet tall, if not more. It was dark-colored.

had a dog-like appearance, a pointy nose and really big pointy ears. Courtney had dashed into her house to grab a flashlight. When she returned outside, she shone it toward the barn door, but the animal was no longer there. She walked closer to the barn to look for tracks in the heavy snow. When she didn't see any, she realized the creature might still be inside

and ran back to the safety of the house. She never saw the creature again. She later talked to a neighbour who'd seen something. The size of a buffalo, but the shape of a dog. In the same barn a few months before Courtney's encounter. The neighbour said she'd been so frightened that she was near hysterics for days. Her father had taken his gun and searched the barn,

but found nothing there. At the time of these events, neither of the girls had heard of the legend song and didn't know about the Michigan Dogman legend until years later. Watersmeat, 1994. And this report comes to us from an anonymous contributor who grew up in Geboigan County, but spent many summers camping on family property in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. This encounter took place in the area of Watersmeat, home with the famous Paulding Lights phenomenon.

Oddly enough, the Paulding lights are also known as the Dog Meadow Lights. Now, Sturdy, she has gotten new rollerblades for Christmas, and since the main road where our property sits is paved, I couldn't wait to ride around. Went bladed by myself and stopped to rest for a second. On this road, the woods are so thick, there's not much space between the road and the woods in most parts. I remember seeing trees pushed down on the road

that my dad said was done by bears. Well, he was an avid bear hunter. I remember not hearing any of your normal sounds of nature, but not even birds. The air was still, and the sky would be pure, dark in not too long. I was deciding to turn back when I heard of rustling behind me and something emerged from the left side of the road. I assumed it was a deer and paused and made myself as quiet as I could so I could watch it and slump down on my stomach in the middle of the road. It was about 600 feet ahead of me

when I got myself settled in the road to watch it and looked up. I realized what I was looking at wasn't a dear. It was on all far with this great brown fur. First I feared the worst, thinking a bearer caught my sense, until I saw its outline and color. I thought I was looking at a dog until I realized the face was too primitive, like a fox or a coyotes. At this point in my life, I'd never seen a wolf in real life. It was too far for me to make out the face exactly. The Michigan Department of natural resources has always recognized that wild wolves still roamed the upper peninsula, although they were thought to be in very limited numbers, and only in extremely remote areas. It is conceivable this witness was seeing one of these wolves, but then something very strange

happened. Well, I extended his front legs, and in the slowest, longest seconds of my life, stood up on its hind legs, sniffed the air, and walked for about five steps. Then it got back down on all fours and walked to the other side of the woods, and then, well, disappeared. I don't remember how long I laid in the middle of the road, staring into the empty space. I saw this thing stand like a human. I remember my jaw hanging down as low as it could, and a pool of drool on the cement under it. It finally glit in my mind that perhaps I should rollerblade my butt back to camp as quick as I could. The witness then reports that, well, the creature never stalked or pursued her. She slept very little during the rest of the family camping trip.

She never told anyone about what she'd seen, fearing she'd be ridiculed. At the time of the sighting, she'd never heard of the legend song, and would not until 2004. She moved to Southern California in 2008 and has no interest in camping ever again. Alpena, 2001. My dad and I have a story to tell about our encounters with the Dark Man. My dad's story took place in the mid-70s. There's a cemetery behind the Alpena High School and a wooded area behind that. There are many trails that run through here.

In this area is a place called the Sandys, where all the young kids would go and party. My dad and two of his buddies were in a canoe in broad daylight paddling from the sandies around the back of the cemetery. The banks of the river are ten to twelve feet high in places, and some trails run right to the edge. Well, the three of them saw what looked to be a big dog running behind them on the trail. They didn't pay much attention to it until they heard a splash. When they looked, it was swimming after them. Then it went from a dog paddle to the chest and front legs coming out of the water and waiting after them. They decided right then not to wait around to see what it was.

Honestly, I thought it was BS at the time. I'm still not sure even to this day if it was something they've been smoking or drinking. drinking. Well then, around 2001, 2002, I was leading some friends through the Sandy's trails. I used to like taking people out there without a flashlight and tell them my dad's story to freak him out. The girl shrieked out before we even got into the woods, so I decided not to scare them that night. In the river, a small, well, several small islands connected by a small sliver of land. For that time, there were three such islands chained together, and I took coming through to the last one which was planted with pines in nice even rolls.

I was the first one back there, about 30 seconds ahead, when one of the girls got her foot hung up on something. As I was going back to help her, there was a spot where the trees make a sort of roof effect, which is really cool, looking at the night with the moon shining through. At that point, I saw something. I'm not sure what it was, but it sent me running out double time. when my buddy saw my face

he didn't say a word he just followed both of us dragging the girls behind us when he asked me later why I'd come out in such a hurry I told me it's because I thought I'd seen something at the other end of the island walking through the trees

that was very tall and not likely human he may not have believed me but he never questioned it either I'm still not sure what I saw could easily have been that I scared myself with my dad's story and I was seeing things, but hey, I know this. I still don't like the dog, and even though I love hunting,

I hate going out before the sun comes up during deer season. Bandon, 2007. This sighting report is told secondhand, by the brother-in-law of the witness. The witness is a prominent person in local government, and wishes to remain anonymous. This situation started last Saturday night around midnight, when he was coming home from a friend's house in Benzonia, and taking the backway home to traverse city.

He stated that while traveling down Cinder Road, several miles outside of the town of Bendon, he observed a pair of eyes reflecting off his headlights ahead of him. Thinking that it was probably a deer alongside of the road, he began to slow down. As he got closer, however, he stated the object was much larger and much darker than a deer. He said that by this time he'd slowed down to around 30 miles an hour,

it was at that point several hundred feet from the creature which still hadn't moved. As he approached further, he stated that the only way he could describe the creature was being similar to a very large dark wolf. However, he observed that this thing wasn't on four legs, but was upright, two back legs standing near a rogue killed deer. He estimated that the creature stood a little over six feet tall and had very dark fur. Well, he stated that by now he was going slow enough. to bring his truck to a stop in the road, and observe the creature which had not yet moved,

and was still staring at him. He told me that, for a brief second, he believed that the object was a giant stuffed animal put there as some kind of joke, due to the fact that he'd never seen anything like it in his life before, that he was able to drive up to it as close as he was, without it having moved an inch. He told me, however, that before he could finish that thought,

the creature then dropped to all four legs and sprinted across the road and disappeared into the woods on the other side of the roadway. He told me that he stayed frozen in his seat for a minute, wondering in the middle of the road of what the heck had just happened. I jokingly asked him if he'd been drinking that night, with a deadly serious face, he stated, No, whenever that was, it was for real. He was perplexed as he was that night over what he'd seen.

He was deathly afraid to go warm. into the woods to investigate further. He said that in using a flashlight, he observed in animals' tracks leading into the woods on the opposite side of the road, and was fortunate enough that night to have his digital camera with him. He showed me a photograph of the porprint, which he said appeared to be about seven or eight inches long.

He had another picture of the same porprint where he placed a shotgun shell in the middle of it for scale. He told me that he was lucky that the side of the road was so soft, because he wasn't willing to go any further than two or three steps away from the door of his truck to get a picture. I inquired if the animal had made any sounds before it disappeared, and he said that he didn't hear it make any noise, or were it not for the pitcher. He would have thought that he'd imagined the whole thing. I asked him if it could have been a bear.

He stated, no, absolutely not. He bear hunts every year in the Upper Peninsula, so he obviously knows what bears look like up close. That's his story. Believe it if you like. I didn't know him as well as I do and hadn't seen the pictures. I would have said he was out of his mind. I've heard the song and know some of the stories. I always believed it was just for entertainment value. Well, after this happened though, I'm looking at all of this under a whole new light. Author's notes. Send me an email if you've ever had an encounter with this creature. I might add your story to the encounters list. The wherewitch of the Howling Woods. After several days and hundreds of miles travelling by stagecoach, Thurrogard had finally arrived at his long-dreaded destination of fog's dwelling.

It was a drab, inauspicious little frontier town built upon the very edges of the Howling Woods, a fabled old-growth forest that had stood as the northernmost border of the realm for time immemorial. Thuragood was awed by his first sight of that mythically primval formal form. forest, as it was comprised of some of the tallest pine trees known to exist. They seemed as tall as the hills themselves, reaching up towards the clouds, and they'd grown together so tightly that, from a distance at least, they appeared to have formed a nigh impenetrable border between the civilized realm of Whittaker and the primeval savagery beyond. It was a border that the folk of Fogg's dwelling had dared to challenge, though, or

rather the Grand Priestess had dared to challenge it, and the poor folks she sent to settle the region had not dared to challenge her. The Howling Woods were too rich with timber to be ignored any longer, especially when the Oracles had divined that the revenants of the forsaken coasts were growing in number. A great fleet of warships was required to deter and defend against any potential invasion from the East. Funny how the prophecies of the Oracles always seem to support the Grand Priestess's agenda. thoroughgood mused. As a result of the dangers posed by the ancient forest, fog's dwelling was built more like a military fort than a town,

with the entire perimeter encircled by a wall of thick logs with sharpened ends. A gallery ran the entire circumference of the interior, so that guards could keep watch, though at night all they could hope to see was the eyeshine of lurking predators. The only way in was a dual set of reinforced gates that faced away from the forest and towards the wide stretch of air, empty moorland that separated them from the rest of the realm those gates had only opened for thuragood stagecoach after the guards had confirmed an all-clear and had slammed shut the instant they

were through the town itself lacked any stone buildings at all with everything being made entirely of wood from the forest thoroughgood supposed that made sense since they would have had a surplus of the latter in a near total deficit of the former it did seem a fire hazard though especially since they were clustered so tightly together, but presumably the cold and damp climate helped with that. The stagecoach rolled to a stop in front of the foggy lantern tavern, where Thorogood would be lodging during his stay in fog's dwelling. He tipped the porter and bid his farewell to the coachman as he headed inside the tavern, hoping that his contact was waiting for him inside, as he'd promised.

His entrance into the tavern didn't go unnoticed, dressed in a brocade frock-coct coat, and a silk cravat. His fair blonde hair tied back in a ponytail with a satin ribbon. He stood out like an unhammed nail amidst the rustic working-class patrons. Thurgood, a deep voice caught out to him from the back corner of the room. Sitting there was a tall, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man with a thick black beard. Ah yes, hello. I am royal scholar, Adidious Thuragood of Heavenhill. Here on behalf of her eminences, hallowed to her eminences. society for Thomatsuchi, alchemy, and natural philosophy. You must be Mr. Faxton. Delighted to make your acquaintance, Thuragood said cordially, greeting him with a curt bow. Rather than get up

from his seat and return the bow, Faxton stuck out his hand. Thuraghton hesitated for just a moment, but considering this assignment required Faxton's cooperation, not to mention his significant size advantage, Thuragood capitulated and shook the man's hand. "'Have a seat, young man,' Faxton said, his gruff voice making it sound more like an order than an invitation. Thuragood complied once more, wiping his hand off with his handkerchief as discreetly as he could. The rickety table shook slightly as a barmaid plopped a wooden tanker at a veil down in front of him. Thuragood noticed that the woman's barrels were tattooed, and though he had only glanced at them briefly, he had thought that they looked thermoturgical in nature.

magical tattoos and a serving girl would certainly have been unusual and he attempted to call her back so that he could get a better look oh ah miss miss could i actually get uh whatever fancy wine you're anchoring for we ain't got it we only got what we can brew and this isn't exactly vineyard country it's beer or nothing faxton informed him thurigood gave a resigned nod and took a reluctant sip of the ale deciding to leave the mystery of the tattoos from later. So you've come all the way out here, just to get a look see at a real live lichenthrope up close, have you? Do I say that right? Lichenthrope. That's a fancy name you types call them, isn't it? Yes, that's correct, Mr. Faxton, but I'm fine with calling them turn-skins, or whatever else you prefer. Thorogood nodded. That's discussed in our letters. her eminence is increasingly concerned about the steady rise in lichen attacks along the frontier. Ah, she's concerned about her timber supply, and that's about it. Faxton scoffed. We're pushing harder

into their territory, and they're pushing back harder. Doesn't take a royal scholar to understand that, does it? Yes, clearly the increase in the population along the frontier, as well as the expansion of the frontier deeper into the Howling Woods is a factor in the increase in lichen attacks, thorough good conceded. But the frequency and number of these attacks are still excessive based on our prior surveys of the lichen throat population. Her eminence is main concern, one which I share, and the one which I have come to investigate, is that the lichens are breeding.

Faxton led out a hard belly laugh, slapping his palm onto the table so hard it nearly toppled over, sending ale sloshing everywhere. Breeding. And how would that work? The turnskins are all outlaws who run off into the Howling Woods, he said. Well, Mr. Faxton, there are women outlaws, seeing as how most of their male compatrients would hardly have been gentlemen, even before being turned to literal wolves, mating seems an inevitability.

Thurgood answered. Mating, sure. I'll grant you that, but not breeding, Faxton said. I may not be as learned as yourself, Mr. Thargood, but I do know that he can't breed a mule. If a cross between a horse and a donkey is sterile, then surely a wolfman won't have to worry about feeding a litter of pups. That's a valid observation, and may well turn out to be the case.

But if the lichronthropes are breeding, as of the utmost importance that we uncover the truth, Thuragood insisted. He leaned in now so that he might speak a little quieter. A plague of lichanthropy has always been a terrifying point. possibility, if a remote one. Contagents that spread solely through the sharing of bodily fluids do so slowly, especially when the infected are unable to pass for uninfected. No one's ever caught lyconthropy from a cortisan, I can assure you. The shelling of lichens to the wilderness or culling their numbers

has always been sufficient to control outbreaks. But if they are breeding, and passing on their lycanthropy to their offspring, and that presents the possibility for exponential popular growth, and with it the capacity to utterly overwhelm our defences. All of Whitaker could either be slaughtered or turned in an unspeakably short period of time. If they are breeding, then we must know and begin preparations for a full-on extermination immediately before it's too late. Now, according to your letters, you've located a den, is that correct? It is, faxton nodded. It's around nine miles into the forests. They're noturnal, so the woods are safe enough to travel by day. But sticking your head inside a Lycan's den just to see if they've got a fresh litter

still sounds like a suicide to me. That it might be, but it's a risk I have to take to find the truth. Thorogood agreed, taking another slow, though clearly not savory, sip from his tankards. Now tell me, Mr. Faxton, if you know where their den is, why have you never tried to wipe them out? Faxton chuckled dismissively at the suggestion. Have you ever actually seen a ternskin, Mr. Thargoode? He asked. Well, there are.

Taxidomized specimens in the hall of it. So, no, then. He cut him off. Well, me and everyone else in the town has seen them. Usually far closer than we'd like to. You see them skulking in the trees, eyes gliding in the dark, waiting for us to let our guard down and pick one of us off. We hear them howling, sometimes from miles away, sometimes from right outside the town wall,

on more than one occasion from inside them. They're bigger, faster and stronger than any man, even me, and their hides are thick. Our silver bullets work, but has a poison. It's a slow death than they can still do quite a bit of damage before they keel over. If the entire town were to march to the den and take on the whole pack on their turf, it'd be a massacre. Even if we succeeded, it'll be with half of us dead

and half of the survivors' turns, which the other half would then have to deal with. So what would be the bleeding point? When you fight a turn-skin, you don't just risk death. You risk becoming a turn-skin and perpetuating the cycle yourself, which is why we only ever fight them when we have to.

A grand priestess is mad if she thinks that an extermination effort would have a chance in hell at working. We need to withdraw from the frontier altogether, treat the moors as a no-man's land, and the turn-skins will be contained to the howling woods just like they've always been. Which would be a perfectly viable option, were it not for our pressing need for timber, Tharagood reminded him. Vaxton sighed in what would have seemed like resignation,

were it not for the sudden look of pity in his eyes. Well, we'll see if you still feel that way after tomorrow, he said forebodingly. I suggest you turn in early, Mr. Thargood. We sit out for the den at first light. The next morning it was clear why Faxton had said first light and not sunrise, as the perpetually foggy and overcast weather rendered the sun a little more than a myth. The grey-damped fog was so thick, Farragud couldn't even see the tops of the trees, let alone the sky. Both men were dressed in long leather coats, tall boots and wide-brimmed hats

as they ventured beyond the relative safety of the town walls. each carried a silver-tip cutlass at their hips and a torch-topped walking-stick in their hands multiple flintlocks loaded with silver bullets were slung upon their bandoliers and Faxton had a large blunderbuss hoisted over his shoulder Tharagood would have preferred a more sizeable retinue for his escort but even if he could have spared the gold

Fogg's dwelling couldn't spare the men on such a dangerous frontier a community needed every able body it had to ensure its survival and they were already none too happy about Faxton having to risk his life just to satisfy the grand priestess's curiosity. Remember, stay alert. Benny Ternskins are prowling the howling at this time of day. Between the trees and the fog we'll hear them long before we see them. Faxton cautioned as they took their first steps across the tree line,

officially leaving civilization behind them. The good news is they don't hunt men for food unless they're starving. and if they see we're armed they won't risk a confrontation without the advantage of numbers on their side we shouldn't have to worry about that until we reach the den stay as quiet as you can and whatever you do don't leave my sight if we get separated

it's a hundred to one shot you'll find your way out before dark and tharagood didn't doubt it all the giant trees look more or less the same to him and the canopy would have made navigating by the sun or stars impossible, if the unyielding clouds hadn't done so already. The terrain at least was manageable enough, since the howling woods had very little undergrowth. The great pines had greedily kept all the sun, water and soil for themselves, leaving precious little for anything else. A thick carpet of dead brown needles was mostly all that covered the forest floor. It was also

eerily quiet. They hadn't been walking for more than a quarter of an hour before the sheer silence of it had thoroughgood thoroughly unsettled. I must say, the forest is rather more desolate than I was expecting, he remarked. Now, you say the lichens only eat men when they're starving. What I've seen so far, that can't be that uncommon of an occurrence. Ah, there's elk and the like that feed on the tree bark and anything that does manage to spread up and grazing beasts out on moors. Turskins can easily travel over a hundred miles and night. And in search of prey. Faxton informed him not bothering to turn around and their skilled hunters with keen senses capable of picking up the slightest of trails or smelling prey

from miles away. They know how to survive in their own woods, don't you fret? You almost sound like you admire them, thorough good remark. I respect them as apex predators. We're the invaders here, looking to chop down their trees to make warships so that we can invade somewhere else. They're just trying to survive. You can't deny that they're very good at that. Faxton replied. You sounded far less respectful

when we were discussing the prospect of taking on an entire pack of them. Thurgood reminded him. Last night you made it sound like they were monsters. I was trying to scare you. I happened you'd realize what a fool's error in this was and head back to where you came from. Faxton told him.

Everything's a monster from something is pointing. of view. These trees are monsters to the plant struggling to survive while they hoard most of the available resources. That doesn't make the trees evil, or mean they have no right to exist. Enough talk. Footsteps might go ignored or unrecognised by the turnskins, but our voices won't. Don't say anything unless it's a vital importance. Tharagard nodded, even though Faxton was facing away from him, and they made the rest of their trek in silence. It wasn't until they'd been hiking for nearly another three hours, that the eerie and the absolute quiet was finally broken.

A long baleful howl pearsed through the air, seeming to shake the floating droplets of fog as it did. Tharagher had heard wolfhows before, but this was obviously no wolf-how. It was deeper, more guttural and more resonant, like the creature that made it was significantly larger than a wolf. The howling was also coming from above. them and Thurrogood had yet to meet a wolf that could climb a tree. He froze in his tracks, as his heart nearly froze in his chest. He looked to Faxton for instruction, who held up a finger

to urge him to remain silent. To Thuragood's utter dismay, Faxton then cupped his hands to his mouth and produced a howl of his own, a perfect mimic of the one that had come from the treetops. The fog-cloaked lichen let out a much shorter howl in response, and Thoucetoned, and Thoubethon Thurgood heard it leaping through the canopy bowels away from them. We can talk now. They know we're here. Talking won't make any difference. Baxton said.

Why aren't they attacking? Farrowgood demanded in a whispered tone that was too loud to actually be considered a whisper, fumbling to draw one of his pistols. I told you, they only eat men when they're starving. They won't attack unless they think we're a threat. So put that damn thing away. Faxton ordered.

All right, the den's dead ahead. Keep your voice calm and low, and don't make any sudden threatening movements. Tharagher did not need Faxton's woodcraft to tell him they were close to the den. Bones of various creatures were strewn about the forest floor. All of them picked clean of flesh, with the larger ones broken and sucked dry of marrow.

The bark of the trees have been furiously scratched in some sort of territorial display, and the smell of death hung heavily in the air. As they marched forward, shapes began appearing in the fog, far too small to be pine trees, but at the same time far too large to be lichens. Peering harder into the mist, he saw that they were monoliths, ancient monoliths, weather-worn and moss-covered, with deep, curvilinear runes etched into them.

They were twelve feet tall, semi-ellipsoid in shape, and had hexagonal holes chiseled into the top ends. They formed a ring a hundred feet across, and the ground within was a shallow depression, 12 feet deep. In the centre of the ring was a large hexagonal stone slab, one that looked suspiciously like a sacrificial altar. What the bloody hell is this? Thoregood demanded as he grabbed Faxton by the arm.

It's a dense. He pointed to the opposite end of the pit, where a wide tunnel had been dug into the ground, framed with branches and large stones. The denies inside of an ancient ophionic ms, megalith that's inexplicably in the middle of the howling woods. You didn't think that that was worth mentioning? Thorogood cried. I didn't, honestly. It's an old country. Ruins all over the place. Some were bound to have squatters. Faxton shrugged. So, now that you see it for

yourself, what's the plan? I'm afraid I haven't been entirely forthright with you, Mr. Faxton. thorough good side as he unslung his rocks at obviously no one in their right mind would expect to be able to walk into a den full of live lichens and survive and that's why I brought this he carefully unwrapped a small ceramic grenade with a silvery wicks sticking out of the top this is filled with a solution of silver nitrate

when it explodes the solution will instantly vaporize into a gas it will be highly toxic to lichens especially when they're all confined to their den like that. The gas will immediately get into their eyes, nose and throat, causing incapacitating pain, occluded vision and smell, impaired breathing, and eventually suffocation. Once they're dead, we survey the bodies

and ideally drag one back with us if we can manage it. Faxton's stoically glowered down at the small explosive. His expression cold and stirred, but otherwise unreadable. So, that's the priestess's plan for exterminating the Ternskins then, is it? He asked, find their dens and then gas them to death in their sleep. You said it yourself, Faxton. Any sort of honourable warfare favours the lichens. Those they don't kill, they turn.

What choice do we have? To leave them be, Faxton replied quietly. If that's what you came here to do, then get on with it. I'll watch your ass from up here, but that's it. I'm not doing the priestess his dirty work. Thoregud nodded, understandingly, and made his descent into the stone ring. Once he was down, he first lit the torch on top of his walking stick, and then very cautiously approached the den.

Unlike the surrounding area, the circle itself had been kept meticulously clean, almost as if the lichens had some conception of its sanctity. Thuragod quickly dismissed the notion, deciding that they simply had some instinctual drive to keep the den entrance clean of anything that might attract scavengers. He came to a complete stop when he reached the den's entrance, peering into it in a vain attempt to try to get a sense of its internal dimensions. The entrance was a black abyss, though, and Thuragod had no way of knowing how deep in the lichens were,

or even if there were multiple tunnels. It was possible that just tossing the grenade into the den wouldn't be enough to kill all of them. if he tried going in himself though he would almost certainly be ambushed and killed before he ever had a chance to light it accepting it as the least risky option Tharago lit the grenade and threw it as hard as he could into the den

to his surprise he heard it shatter against something solid before igniting the plumes of smoke rising out of the entrance proved that the den couldn't have been very deep and he didn't hear a single lichen howling in pain nor did any of them come running out of the den Then. Perplexed, he cautiously moved through the thinning smoke and dared to enter the den, holding

his torch as far out from him as he could. He hadn't gone more than a few steps when he saw what the grenade had smashed into. It was a door, a wide wooden door clearly made from the pine trees that surrounded them, but undeniably much younger than the stone circle above them. He tried to open it, but found it was barred from the other side. "'Faxton!' Thorogood shouted as he ran back into the stone circle. "'Mr. Faxton, there appears to be some sort of a—of a—' "'But he trailed off. His attention suddenly stolen by the sight of over a dozen lichens

standing around the perimeter of the circle staring down at him. They were nearly seven feet tall when they stood to their full height, though many of them were hunched, stooped or crouched on all falls. They were lean and muscular, with unretractable claws on their feet. digit-to-grayed feet and long-splayed hands. Their dark coarse fur was black, brown, grey, and even Orban, and their hungry eyes shone at either red, gold, or green. Their snouts were short, and their teeth were long, longer and sharper than that of any natural creature that dwelt in these woods. Thorog had turned, and, standing over the den's entrance, where he'd emerged, there was a woman

with a wild mane of swept back raven hair and the same amber eyes that some of the lichens had. Her sun-brown skin was carved in dark green tattoos that mimic the curvilinear ruins of the megalith. The Tharuga realized those were the same tattoos he'd seen on the barmaid the previous night. She was naked, save for a golden talisman around her neck,

bearing the triple crescent moon icon of the Covenant. She was also filthy with hips that were so wide and breasts that were so large and pendulous, they looked more like they belonged on some ancient fertility idol than a living woman. Her lips twisted upwards in a snarl, bearing an inhuman set of carnivorous teeth. She had a lichen knelt to either side of her, and she rested her hands upon the heads as if they were common dogs.

The scene was so horrifying and so surreal, he didn't notice Faxton standing beside them until he spoke. "'I'm afraid I wasn't entirely forthright with you, either, Mr. Tharagood,' he said. "'His blunderbuss at the ready to put Thurrugard down in an instant, should he have the need.' "'What the bloody hell is this?' Tharagood demanded. "'And who is she?' "'My name is Lymestra, and I am the den mother to this pack of lichens,' she said in a voice that had an unnatural yet feral timber to it. before that I was a witch so I guess that makes me a wear witch then doesn't it no where

means man a where witch would be a waller thoroughgood said sardonically if he was going to die he might as well die correcting people's etymological errors what that devil do you mean den mother i was banished from the sisterhood for my numerous unorthodoxies and like many outcasts i fled to the howling words to escape the law she replied listlessly scratching her Rubin-esque belly with a wolf-like claws. I knew I couldn't survive for long on my own, so I used my talents at Theriancy to persuade a pack of lichens to link me in. When my sisters rejected me, these creatures took me in as one of their own.

I knew that it would be only a matter of time before I became infected myself and not wanted to completely lose my human facilities. I set to work designating these. She gestured to the thormeturgical tattoos that covered much of her body. These let me shift between forms at will, and while I admit I'm certainly a little more primal than I used to be, and still by far the smart dyslicensrope in these woods. With the mind of a woman, the magic of a witch, and now the strength of a lichen, this forest is my domain.

When the Grand Priestess sent your people to invade my woods, my first impulse was to destroy them, However, as I spied upon them from the woods and plotted my next move, I realized that they too were outcasts and hated the grand priestess as much as I did. They weren't invaders. They were refugees. So I decided to be a magnanimous queen and extend an offer of amnesty instead. Amnesty? Thorogood asked.

Her tattoos. She taught us how to make them. Let's keep our human minds and human forms, but able to change. changed skins when need be. Paxton explains. Fog's dwelling and all its people now recognize Lomestra as our sovereign, and we don't hesitate

to use the gift she's given us to defend her woods. Any invaders who surrender can either retreat or receive the ink themselves, but those who don't will either be slaughtered or join our ranks as traditional wolf-minded likens. And if the Grand Priestess

still won't relent, then I'll send my people to covertly spread lichenthropy throughout her realm and bring it down from the inside returning all of whittaker to a state of primeval nature lemaester added and you mr thurrogut who came here to cowardly murder us in our sleep you will now join apak without the benefit of my tattoos to make up for your treachery well if you survive the transformation of course some of the lichens began growling and slowly crawled down into the ring. Tharagard pulled out a pistol and tried to shoot, only to find that Faxton hadn't loaded his guns.

Ah, it didn't have to be this way, Tharagard. Faxton lamented, who could have walked away? Tharagard didn't seem to be feeling especially repentant, however, refusing to forsake the cause he had sworn his life to. The guns may have been useless, but the cutlass was real. Throwing his walking stick to the ground and drawing his sword, he'd charged for the lichen standing ahead of him, ready to strike them down with his silver blade. He never got the chance, though, as he was pounced on from behind and knocked to the ground, the lichen throat wasting no time in digging its teeth into his shoulder. As he screamed in pain, the entire pack howled in celebration of his infection.

We went to a restricted area in Brazil's forest. We'd been in this company for quite a long time. So we decided to take a vacation. We're a group of five friends, actually just four, but Katie always tagged along. Our group decided to go to Brazil. They say the summer is the best time to visit them. We're all college friends and we all happen to work in the same company in different positions. Robert, Bob, was the first one to join the company.

He helped all of us, one way or another, to get a job with him. Daisy, his girlfriend, works with him as a team. I'm Nick. I work in a different department with Katie and Jensen. Our company manufactures bolts for machinery, and we get orders in bulk from multinational companies and some other smaller ones. We'd not taken leave since we joined, so we thought it was high time, and hence we all took leave for a few days. Surprising that all our leaves got approved, well, anyway, we decided to visit Rio de Janeiro. It was back in the summer of 2014. We all booked a flight, arrived, and then spent the first evening drunk and partying, well, except for Katie.

She went to sleep early. The following morning we rented a safari jeep and went out strolling into the forest. Spent the entire afternoon looking for all kinds of wild animals. It was about four o'clock when we arrived at this strange spot in the middle of the forest. Where are we? Bob asked. I don't know, said Daisy. You're the one driving. This spot isn't supposed to be here. It's showing nothing on the GPS. Why check the maps on my smartphone?

Yeah, Bob's right, I said. There's no road here. We lost, asked Jensen. My head hurts from last night. I just want to go back to the hotel so I could get a nap. We're not lost, said Katie. First time she'd spoken all day. She was busy reading some book with strange symbols on it. We didn't want anything to do with her, so we never bothered asking. The road must lead to a restricted area.

We're not allowed to go there, and that's why it's not on the maps. Well, that makes sense, Daisy added. Let's go check it out. You crazy, babe, it has restricted me nothing to you. It's probably dangerous. Yeah, probably, I declared. But wait. Katie, how are you so sure?

Are you kidding? A concrete road in the middle of the forest that doesn't show on maps. Doesn't need much genius to figure that out. Oh, come on, guys, Jensen blurted out angrily. Do whatever you want, just let's move. Oh, come on, babe, let's check it out. Daisy suggested it again. If we run into someone like an official or something,

well, we'll say we're lost and head straight back. It'll be an adventure in one hell of a story to tell. Come on, please. All right, all right, Bob said as he drove onward. As we touched the road, we all felt something. I couldn't place my finger on what exactly it was, but I could sense it. There was something strange about that place. As we kept moving forward, we felt as if time had stopped.

We drove for at least an hour But the sun didn't move an inch in the sky Oh, the temperature seemed to have dropped, though Only after a couple of hours did we realize what was wrong It was when Daisy screamed Bob immediately hit the brakes What? he asked We're stuck, she said

I watched the time when we entered this area It was 417, I swear It's well, it's still the same. Is that why you scream like that? Jensen asked. He was angry. God, you're an idiot. Your watch must have stopped. No. No, she's right, I said, looking at my watch. It's still 417. Jensen wasn't wearing a watch, so he checked his phone. It wasn't working. My stupid phone must have run out of juice, he exclaimed. Well, mine's not working either, said Bob.

Oh my God. Daisy was panicked. What's happening? Relax, guys, said Katie. Maybe I have something here to stop all the digital equipment. Okay, I thought, and then said, but why aren't my and Daisy's watches working? They're not digital.

I know all right, but what I'm saying is there's a reason this area is restricted. Yeah, we should head back, said Bob. Yeah, let's go, Daisy agreed. That was enough. So Bob turned the Jeep, and we drove for two more hours. When we reached the spot, our watch is still showed 4.17. Bob stopped the Jeep at the end of the road. Dense bushes and leaves were covering the entrance.

That was strange because we hadn't encountered them earlier. Who put those there? asked Bob. I was one there when we first came. Those officials must have put them to hide the road. Got, let's just drive through them. Slowly. Bob slowly entered the bushes, and it got dark for a while.

We couldn't see, but Bob kept driving. When he came out from the other end, our hearts dropped a beat. It was already dark, and we were back on the concrete road, facing the other way. We all panicked together. Bob stopped the Jeep, nobody spoke for a few minutes. We just kept staring at each other with horror on our faces.

Well, all except for Katie. Oh my God. Oh God, what's happening? What do we do now? We keep driving. We all looked over at Katie. She was as calm as ever. What?

Bob barked. We've been driving for hours. Listen, do you have any other brighter idea? years, she replied calmly. We can try to drive through the bushes again, but I think you already know what's going to happen. The only way is to keep driving. But how's that going to help? Jensen asked. I don't know, okay. It's your idea to visit the place. I already told you it was restricted. Maybe there's a way on the other side. I don't know. Do whatever you like, but I don't care. Nobody said anything. What could, anything? What could,

anybody say? After a minute of silence, Bob started the Jeep and drove forward. And he kept going for hours. The time had literally stopped. It stayed the same. We didn't even feel anything because our metabolism seemed to have stopped with everything else. It felt like we drove for days. None of us got tired or hungry. We couldn't feel anything. It was weird. We offered to switch, Bob declined. He said he didn't even feel like he was driving. It was a straight road, but we couldn't see what was ahead of us. And then, we did.

At first, we couldn't tell what it was. Then we realised it was water. We were approaching a humongous body of water, an ocean maybe. And yes, it was indeed an ocean. And there was something very different about it, something strange. The water was calm. like sand spread out on the floor with no waves. We finally reached the end of the road.

I stopped at this cliff, looking down above the ocean. We were both relieved and anxious at the same time. So, what now? I asked. Don't know, replied Bob. Can't go further, can't go back. Guess we're stuck here forever. Come on, said Daisy. There must be something we could do.

Before anyone else could speak, Katie did. Her ears, she said, pointing at something on the ocean. It was a ship. We'd never been this happy in our entire lives. It approached us, and we started jumping around with excitement. We didn't know then that the excitement wouldn't last. The ship came to a halt, and we all ran towards it. When we finally arrived at the dock, two men appeared.

He had some peculiar clothing on. We were all happy to see them, all except for Katie, she said, but nobody responded to her. It's been decades since I've seen new faces, one of the men said. Thank God you're here, Bob said. Yeah, we're stuck, added Daisy. Can you please help us get back? The men look confused for a second. then one of them whispered something to the other one in his ear.

And the second one went, Oh. They both looked at us for a moment, before one of the men spoke. Um, I don't know how to best tell you, because there's no easy way. Tell us what, I asked. Actually, you're dead, he said. You all are. Well, we all, once again, panicked.

Daisy grabbed Bob's hand. Jensen put his hand on my shoulder, and I put mine on his. Only Katie seemed unnerved by the news. What are you saying? As a place in the forest, something mythical took place there thousands of years ago, and it almost caused the war between life and death to break down. You must have crossed the war by mistake. "'You're all dead now.'

"'Yeah,' the other one said. "'We're here to take you to the other side, your next destination.' "'Daisy started crying, and Bob couldn't do anything to help her. "'He was in shock himself. "'I couldn't think properly. "'Gensen dropped to his knees, crying silently. "'Come on, there must be away,' Bob prayed. "'We can't die like this.'

"'Yes, please, do something,' I said. but this this is not i couldn't finish my voice seemed to have been lost my eyes teared up and a few dropped did slide down my cheeks i understand i'm sorry this is beyond us our job is to guide you to the other side nobody said anything nobody could after a minute the other man whispered something again to the first one there um might be a way The first one said, We all looked up at him with new hope. He might be able to drop you back to the world of the living.

Yeah, for an hour every day, the two worlds sort of merged together. We call it the hour of the dead. That's when you might be able to cross over. We were about to jump with hope and excitement, but the man interrupted. Oh, but there's a cost. What?

Yeah, um, one of you, will have to stay with us, become one of us. That's the only way. Nothing but silence followed. No one knew what to do or say. None of us wanted to stay dead or worse, become a guide. And that's when it happened. I'll stay. Well, we all turned back. It was Katie. She'd taken her shoes off and she sat with her feet buried in the sand. It seemed as if she was enjoying all of this. I like it here, away from the sufferings of the world. This is exactly how I imagined death would be, painless and beautiful. Wait, but Katie, it's okay, she interrupted me. It's not like you guys had missed me. Everybody looked guilty, including me. Yeah, she went on. I know,

I've seen you making eyes at others when I say something. I've heard you whisper into each other about me. I've known this for a while now. I'm not your friend. I'm the weird one. Katie, it's not true, Daisy said after some time. Not my childhood friend. Because you had no one else, no other female friends. Katie, we still can't let you do this, I said. It's okay, she replied. I want to. It's my choice we tried to think of something to say to her but we couldn't then one of the men spoke up but we should hurry this not much time i think you should let your friend decide for herself it's her life it's her choice we all one by one hug katie and thanked her for what she was about to do for us i kissed her and promised her that we would never forget her then we climbed on the ship while katie stayed back

The men asked her to stay, saying they'd come back for her. Then we sailed, and we sailed for days, but it didn't feel like days. It was as if we'd arrived the very next moment. The ship dropped us off at a pier. The moment we hit the world of the living, we felt alive again. Our phones and watches started working again, and we were tired and starving. The first thing we did was hug each other tight. We cried for longer than I could remember.

We thanked Katie and headed back home. And now, what I'm about to tell you next, shocked us all to the call. When our leave ended, we all went back to work. The very first thing we saw when we entered our office was Katie. We'd never been so happy and scared at the same time. We ran to hug her and ask her how she'd managed to come back. She didn't remember anything, though. What are you freaks going on about?

She asked. Did you guys do drugs on vacation? Katie, don't you remember anything? Remember what? None of you clowns even ask me to go with you. Why would you? I mean, I'm not your friend. I'm the weird one.

What are you saying? I demanded. You did go with us. You sacrificed yourself to save us. Don't you remember? Katie gave us all a look. I don't have time for your stupid pranks. You guys need to sober up, and we have a lot of work to do.

Then, she walked away. What all we could do was keep staring at each other. The screamers forest, my dark hoodie. I've never believed in urban legends, ghosts, the paranormal, or anything like that. And for the most part, I've always considered myself to be a rational, decent fellow. Not once did it ever cross my mind that devils or ghouls ever existed. ironically enough the small old town i grew up in was chock full of them honestly couldn't believe how ignorant the people in my town were they believed anything and everything that seemed like a logical

fallacy and they embraced it wholeheartedly they believed in healing rituals dream-catches and magical spells yeah my town was the epitome of superstition yes as i said they were all very ignorant to modern science there were several legends surrounding my little town. He lived in stories involving a woman seen weeping on a lonely road dressed completely in white and cries of pain being heard from an unknown source at a location where there was a very severe car accident and several people were killed. And in all my years of being in this place, not once have I seen a lady crying in white or heard the groans of ghosts who died in the area. Naturally I had begun to question these claims and ultimately concluded

them to be false. Yet the townsfolk told these stories as if the things had happened to them personally, which I highly doubt. But there was one legend in particular that had everyone terrified, and for this reason no one dared to enter the forest at night. My grandfather would inform me of this legend. Ah, long ago, there was once a peaceful and benign Native American tribe who once inhabited the region we currently resided in.

They had respected their land and one another and treated any guests with the utmost respect. Early European settlers entered their territory for the first time. The compassionate tribe welcomed their new visitors warmly, instructed them on how to raise crops and hunt for gain. Well, subsequently the Europeans repaid their services with cruelty, destroying their lands, spreading disease into their families, and selling their tribesmen for a profit to other settlers. To their horror, the tribe felt helpless as the Europeans arrived in vast numbers, violating their once sacred land.

After watching his family and fellow tribesmen suffer agonizing deaths at the hands of these invaders, the chief of the tribe begged the great spirit for retribution. In a shamanistic ritual, he prayed that the foreigners had disgraced the land he and his people are treated so lovingly, and he beseeched the all-powerful deity to exact revenge on them for all the pain they caused. surely afterwards the chief died of a disease brought over from the settlers according to the legend when the last member of the tribe had perished there was still one patch of forest that had been untouched by the malicious settlers his land was according to the legend the piece of land that the great spirit protected

to honor the memory of the fallen tribe and its sorrowful chief whenever a foreigner was to travel into this particular forest at around midnight they say a hideous demonic being would attack them. Its most distinctive feature was its voice. It would let out a scream so loud that it could demolish buildings. In some form of the rumors, they say that random scream drives people mad. Others say it can hypnotize whoever hears it. For this reason, the forest in which this creature inhabits has come to be known as the screamers' forest. Well, truth be told, as a kid, that legend sort of gave me the chills. I knew there was a good possibility that a portion of it was factual.

After all, I'd read several books detailing the accounts of Native Americans, and in their own words, describing the horrors of seeing their once sacred land wither away to nothingness. Although I felt pity on the tribe, I don't think there was a demonic spirit protecting their land, as the legend claimed. Oh, so I'd indicated. Oh, my friends, Frank, Joe and Phil, and I, We loved a good scare. We'd often pull pranks on various denizens of my town

due to their strong belief in the supernatural. Not ones that were too serious, just silly ones. Even though we knew it was all fabricated, we enjoyed hearing tales of ghosts and demons. Well, when the summer was ending, we decided to do one final activity to finish off the season. We'd be heading off to college again very soon, so we knew we wouldn't be having fun for a while.

We decided on going on a camping trip. We couldn't go too far, so we settled on a campsite around our town. Just to add an extra scoop of excitement, we decided to rent a cabin right in the middle of Screamers' Forest, where the entity reportedly lurks. The next day we packed up our food, clothing and materials for the trip. When we drove towards the cabin campsite, we laughed and joked around about our daily lives and occasionally made cracks about the silly urban legends surrounding this forest. Finally, after about an hour, we made it to the forest.

Well, in all honesty, it was a very tranquil forest. Because of the townsfolk being scared shitless of the legend, we had the entire forest to ourselves. We heard the birds singing their colourful songs, all the creatures of the forest scoured along the trees and grassy floor, and the air had a cool, refreshing breeze. For a moment I had no idea, just what in the world had everyone terrified of this place. well quite frankly it was one of those beautiful places i'd ever seen i would have minded living here my friends and i unpacked our belongings and set up camp

the camp itself or though a little run down was very cozy and comfortable there was an upstairs bedroom where four people could sleep just enough for the four of us after the labour was done we all went out and explored the forest God, it was filled with wild flowers, colorful critters, and a lake that sparkled in the sun. It truly was a sight to behold. There was no photograph or image online I've seen that made this particular area look bland.

Well, we were having a lot of fun, so it was only natural that we didn't notice the time. The sun had begun to set, and the water turned from a crystal blue to a more purplish color. We decided to head back and sit around the campfire before turning in. as we sat around the fire still laughing and joking we began observing our surroundings well in the daylight the forest seemed tranquil and peaceful but at night it began to appear a little unsettling

the dancing flames in the center of our campsite illuminated the trees making them appear like fiery monsters suppose the macabre scenery provided frank with a little ghoulish inspiration because he suggested hey how do you guys think of that of that legend. That suddenly triggered a series of oos and chuckles from the guys. They knew the story well. It was a popular one indeed. We began chattering about the screamer and what we thought it looked like, what it did, and what could possibly have caused all of this commotion over it. Just when it began to get entertaining, the flames began to die down. We all groan because we liked this conversation, and we were in the perfect environment for it. "'Ah, fuck. Right when it was getting good,' moaned Frank, rolling his eyes and sighing heavily. "'Yeah,' added Phil, picking up a stick on the floor and throwing it at the flames as if it were going to bring it back.

"'This sort of shit happens all the time when things get good.' "'Settle down, guys,' I said, standing up, pulling my hoodie over my shoulders and reaching for the flashlight that we'd pack for the trip. "'I'll go get some work.' My friends all nodded their heads and exchanged words of agreement as I wandered my way into the dismal, lonely forest. Truthfully, I don't know just what the hell possessed me to go and get some firewood in the dead of the night.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that I still feared the legend of the screamer and I sort of wanted to prove to myself that it wasn't real. Of course, that wouldn't be a hard thing to do because I didn't believe any of that rubbish. But that fear was still there, you know. that fear in which you think it's okay i've got it under control but then you realize you're just trying to convince yourself that everything's going your way in reality you have no idea what the hell would happen and you're scared stiff slowly marched my way deeper and deeper into the forest looking for sticks and twigs to toss into the fire i bent down to snatch up a few from the grassy muddy floor and that's when i heard it that's when i heard it that sound that groaning. When I was picking up the shrubs and sticks, I heard something like a groan,

not a menacing groan, more like a groan that sounded as if it were in pain. A whale somewhat would make if they were recovering from a stomachache or a broken bone. I suddenly stood up straight, and for some reason I instinctively shut off my flashlight. I suppose it was because I didn't want whatever was making that eerie groaning noise to detect me. The groaning continues. The groaning continued for a moment. It sounded distant but still loud enough to be heard. My eyes slowly scanned the forest from left to right, trying to see if my eyes could catch some sort of movement in the darkness. It was then that I decided I'd have no choice but to turn on my flashlight. I just had to see whatever hell it was that was making that sound. So I slowly lift up the flashlight and flicked it on.

I carefully shone it into every nook and cranny of the. the woods, trying to uncover the source of those haunting modes. At first I saw nothing but shrubs, bushes, and grass. And suddenly, I caught glimpse of a tall, lanky figure in the shadows. I redirected my light towards a spot where I'd seen it standing, and indeed, I'd seen correctly. At first I didn't know what I was looking at. If I could describe it, it appeared to be a very tall, thin being with pitch black skin. On their head I could visualize something that appeared to be long snake-like hair. Their fingers were long and brushed like with long claws at the end of them. The most disturbing detail on this being, though, would have to be its eyes. Its eyes were glowing

of fire-engering, reddish colour, appearing vile, evil and menacing. Its face lacked a nose and a mouth, or at least it seemed to be. Its head seemed to have been twisted in an impossible manner, as if something had tried to snap its neck or something. What was this thing? Was it even human? Was it some unknown species of animal, an alien? Was it someone playing a joke?

I simply kept my flashlight anchored on the being, just watching as it stood there, blending in with the darkness of the forest. I then saw it take a very subtle, step towards me. I felt myself flinch when it did that because by now I'd begun to get uneasy and then I heard that pained groan once again. That's when I realized that the groaning was coming from this thing. The monster groaned again, this time more prominently than it initially had. I shot my light in its face, trying to get a better glimpse of it, and when I did I saw its

long, lanky arms slowly reaching up to its head. It moved its arms slowly and agonizingly, as if it didn't want to take any sudden moves. And then grabbed its face and gruesomely turned its head to the correct position. God, I had the bones in its neck cracking and snapping as it shifted its neck and head. The monster then slowly stood up straight, its eyes now completely focused on mine. God, for what seemed like an eternity, that being and I just stared at each other. My light still shining on its face. He just stood there, panting slightly and peering into my soul.

I remember my eyes shifting from left to right, not knowing what to do at this point. And then something both odd and frightening occurred. The monster seemed to lean forward a little, just a little. And then, when it did that, a powerful wind gust, practically hurricane force, began whipping me from behind. almost knocking me off my feet. As the wind lashed at me, I glimpsed at the monster once again. Now it was slowly beginning to lean backwards once more. What was it doing?

Was it trying to suck me in? Finally the wind ceased. I managed to regain my balance and catch my breath. And then, one last time, I gazed at the demon in front of me. I then saw it slowly shift its shadowy head. backwards and I witnessed and heard the most unearthly things I'd ever witnessed in my life. The monster's previously blank face suddenly developed a colossal mouth that strongly resembled a trumpet. It had raised a sharp yellow teeth and a long, slithering tongue. God, it was hideous.

What was even worse is the sound that came out. Never will I ever hear something as demonic, frightening or painful as that scream it made. When it opened its mouth, it was, off another volatile and vicious wind blasted me. This time it was even more powerful than before. The trees rattled violently, the dirt off of the ground began spraying all over me. I could have sworn I even felt the earth shaking beneath my sneakers. Could all this be happening because of the monster's voice? And then came that horrible noise,

that noise that would be with me until the day I died. Its screams started out resembling a siren, and a high-pitched whale of sorts that became louder with every passing second. Then it slowly shifted lower in tones to a more human-like sort of screaming, a man-scream. Finally the screaming reached its critical points. Now, this time the screams sounded like a combination of all three sounds. The wailing and the human-like screaming, and now it resembled an extremely loud groaning, a devilish groaning. This groaning sounded similar to a cruise ship's horn and a...

clap of thunder. And when it reached that point, I felt myself collapsed to my knees and shut my eyes. I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to barricade out that dreadful, ear-shattering noise that was vomiting out of that vile creature's mouth. The sound was unbearable, excruciatingly painful. If I could try my best to compare it to something, well, I'd say it felt like two needles being forcefully shoved into my ear canals. I could not stand that fucking noise. If I sat there listening to it any longer, I'd have surely gone mad. It was almost as if the noise itself wanted me dead. In the midst of all the pain and insanity, I opened my eyes slightly. I witnessed the creature still standing there, screaming and causing the entire forest to quake

violently. In the middle of all the insanity, I'd noticed that I'd drop my flashlight. With my ears still covered, I looked down and saw it on the ground. The gust of wind coming from the screaming was so powerful that I'd actually observed it rocking back and forth on its side. Suddenly the glass shield in front of the light bulb shattered into a million pieces. The decibel level of the screaming must have been off the charts. That's when I realized I needed to get out of there. If I stood here another minute, my ears would explode without a doubt. I slowly got to my feet.

the screaming of the demon even made it difficult to walk now i limped my way in the opposite direction of the beast slowly turned around to get one more look at it but i couldn't believe that this entity had such a powerful set of lungs what was it where did it come from why was it doing this i slowly spared my limping into a run and got out of there while i was still covering my ears well it was much more difficult to navigate my way around the forest this time, since I'd abandoned my flashlight back where I'd first witnessed this monster. Finally, just as mysteriously as it had come, the high winds and the piercing in my ears suddenly ended. I screeched to a halt and whirled around. There was nothing there. That bizarre creature had suddenly vanished. But how? Did I imagine all of it? No. Impossible.

I had a good advantage of this momentary silence and immediately dash through the forest to locate my friends and try to get their hell out of there. For about five minutes I frantically sprinted through the woods, searching for signs of our campfire illuminating the darkness. I was close to giving up hope when I finally spotted a glinting orange light in the distance, so without hesitation I scurried towards it as fast as I possibly could. as I drew nearer the familiar chattering of my friend slowly came with an earshot. God, never did I think that I'd be so relieved to have heard their voices. I felt a sense of security to hear them all. I charged through the bushes, panting and sweating from the very unusual experience I'd had back there. My friend stared at me, all of them with curious expressions and their eyebrows arched.

They began standing up and approaching me, and a barrage of them. of questions in shoes. Whoa, where have you been? Where's the firewood? Hey, how come you're all sweaty? I bent over with my hands on my kneecaps, trying to regain my breath so I could explain just what the hell I'd seen and heard.

I, I, uh, I said in between heavy panty, I saw a creature in the woods. A creature? inquired Joe, tilting his head. What kind of creature? I don't know, I replied, becoming slightly hysterical as images of that hideous beast clawed their way into my mind. It was this thing that was tall, skinny, had these long claws and its voice. Oh, man, I think you need to slow down a little.

I slowly shook my head and swallowed a lump in my throat. didn't you didn't you guys hear that sound that scream my trio friends all exchanged confused glances towards one another and then they turned to me frank stepped forward to speak

for them he shook his head and answered no no bro we didn't hear any scream I was speechless how could they not have heard that dreadful whale there's no way I could have imagined it.

No way at all. Yeah, but... But... I stammered as my head turned towards the heavily forested area. And it was so loud. I thought my eardrums were going to explode. How could you guys not have...

I think we'd better head off the bed, said Joe, putting his hand on my shoulder. You look tired. Track and Phil both uttered words of agreement, and we headed inside the cabin. But... Well, how could they not have heard it? This didn't even make any sense.

I mean, even though I was among friends, I felt so alone. They didn't believe a word I'd said. As we marched towards the cabin, I could see them all whispering things, most likely about me. By now they were probably thinking about packing up going home and registering me into an insane asylum. But I know I saw something out there, something evil,

and I had the feeling it wanted us out. But instead, we climbed into our beds. My friends happily joked around as they changed their clothes, brush their teeth and stream music on their smartphones. As for me, well, I was just lying in bed. I couldn't get that horrible, shadowy figure out of my mind. God, what the hell was it? Where did it come from?

Was it an animal, a human, a demon? All of these questions were furiously branded into my brain. Suddenly that legend that my grandfather had told me came into my head, more particularly the entity known as the screamer. Could it have been that thing that I'd seen in the forest? No, no, that's crazy talk. That's just a silly urban legend to scare off the local kids. Or so I hoped.

Finally the guys finished up what they were doing and called it a night. Before shutting off the light, they'd give me a few words of confidence, and they said everything would be better in the morning. Those poor, poor souls. When the light dimmed and the darkness engulfed the room, I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I still couldn't get that thing out in my head. That screaming, that horrible screaming, was still ringing violently in my ears. As a gazed at the ceiling, I lost track of time.

and by now I'd started hearing my friends beginning to snore quietly. But I, on the other hand, was wide awake with my thoughts racing. I then sighed heavily and began to slowly calm down. I know that what I'd seen in the forest was unquestionably an oddity, but lying in bed all night worrying about what it may have been certainly wouldn't do anything good for me. My nerves eased and I closed my eyes, trying to rid my mind of the thing I'd seen.

Just when I'd slowly started to settle down, I heard something outside. My eyes instantly shot open, every muscle in my body tightened, and my eyes swung from left to right. I even held my breath, trying to see if my ears weren't playing tricks on me. But yes, I'd heard correctly. I heard groaning. Oh, that familiar groaning from the forest. I felt a knot in my stomach. A chill slithered down my spine.

I felt my face twist in horror as I heard the groaning approaching our cabin. I heard whatever was Cummings' feet scraping along the dusty, grassy ground. Hesidently, I slowly creaked my head towards the window. But then I suddenly changed my mind and turned my head in the other direction, and I shut my eyes tightly. I felt sweat beginning to trickle down my forehead. My breathing suddenly increased in speed. and intensified.

I quietly began mouthing a prayer then. God, I wanted whatever was out there to go away, go away and never come back. And then heard a thud, like something was hitting itself against the cabin's wooden walls outside. At least that's what I initially interpreted as being. Then I heard it again, and again, and once more. and gathering any courage I had my eyes slowly swung over to the window once more I heard one more thought

before seeing something that I wish I hadn't I saw a large clawed hand appear at the window I gasped and I threw my sheet over my face trembling like a leaf and suddenly I heard the window shatter violently I threw the sheets off of my face and I looked

and there it was that hideous demon from the forest stood on top of the broken glass its crimson eyes glowing brightly in the darkness my friends shut up from their beds staring at this entity in disbelief what the fuck is going on i heard phil shriek he's what is this i recalled frank crying out the screamers cold evil eyes slowly scanned the room and its eyes landed on Joe. It slowly turned its head towards him. As it did, I heard the bones in its neck snapping and crunching multiple times. I just sat there in my bed, paralyzed with fear and disbelief. And for a moment, just a brief moment, I wanted to scream out.

See, I told you. I told you I fucking saw something. That thought was quickly intercepted by, what I would see next, and what I would see happen to Joe will be forever engraved into the memory banks of my mind. Quicker than a bolt of lightning, the screamer leapt on top of Joe's bed and snatched his neck. I recall hearing him coughing violently and seeing blood drip from his neck. His hands gripped the demon's wrist, a response to the sudden shock to his windpipe.

Then the creature easily lifted him up off of the bed, with his legs dangling, in the air as if he were a large puppet. It held him just a few inches away from his face. And the screamer leaned its head back, took in a deep breath, and it wailed right into Joe's face. Just like before, it had started out like a siren,

then a human's well, and then a low, ominous moaning. I felt my bed beginning to tremble violently, and I once again covered my ears to shield them from that sound. My eyes shifted to Joe just to see what was going on. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. The demon's screaming was so loud that I saw the flesh on Joe's face beginning to peel off.

First his skin came off in small flakes, and then, as the screaming persisted, I saw the skin begin to go flying off in colossal chunks. Patches of flesh and skull began to reveal themselves. Finally, the entity ceased the wailing. It slowly turned to us with Joe's bloody neck still in its clawed grip. It then seemed to hold up Joe's body in victory, as if trying to give us some sort of message. We were watching horror, utter horror, as our friend's flensed face bled, his jaw hanging lifelessly. The screamer then tossed his body aside as if it were a rag doll,

and then it turned to us its next victims. Frank and Phil both bolted for the door, and I did the same. The three of us dushed out of the room, into the hallway and down the stairs. As we sprinted down the steps, we heard that wail starting up again. The screaming shook the entire cabin, causing chunks of wood to fall off of the ceiling and the windows to rattle violently. Trying our hardest to resist the overwhelming pain of this intense shriek, we sprinted out of the cabin, leaving behind everything, and dove into the car. Frank hopped into the driver's seat,

Phil jumped into the passenger seat, and I got into the back. My friend jammed the key into the ignition, and the car's engine roared to life. Without hesitation or minding the protocols of operating a vehicle, Frank slammed on the acceleration and sped out of there as fast as the car could go. I remember that right before the cabin vanished out of sight, I gazed back. I gazed back, to stare at it. I saw the screamer crawl out of the entrance door and its head shifted rapidly from left to right, searching for us. Just before disappearing into the darkness, I saw the demon's burning red eyes stare at us, driving away. We all gasped and breathed sighs of relief, thankful that we'd gotten out of their life. Christ, uttered Phil, placing his hand on his chest

and panting heavily. What the fuck was that? I don't know, replied Frank, keeping his eyes on the road. But I'm sure as hell not going to stay and find out. You see? I said, still trying to catch my breath.

I told you there was some weird shit out in the forest. Neither of them responded. I suppose they didn't want to admit that they were wrong. I shook my head and continued breathing heavily. and then my eyes shifted to the rear view mirror to my surprise and horror I saw the screamer come sprinting right up behind us at a remarkable breakneck speed I whirled around and I saw its fire engine red eyes our car's tail lights made them glow like cinders in a flame I cried as I observed the demon coming in close my two

friends turned around to see it too and then friends Frank stepped on the gas. Get us the fuck out of here, screamed Phil, as his eyes remained anchored on the screamer. For a moment it appeared as though we would actually outrun it. The screamer seemed to slow down for a minute, still keeping up, but a further distance that initially was traveling. Just then, though, he jumped high into the air, disappearing from sight. Where the hell did it go? asked Phil.

we both began searching carefully for it trying to see where it may have gone silence absolute silence a car roared down the path and for a moment all seemed serene and tranquil i took a glance at frank and i observed his wide face and eyes locked onto the road in front of him phil frantically looked from left to right trying to spot the horrifying entity that was apparently stalking us i turned once more trying to see if I could make out where the screamer was in the faint light. But no. There was nowhere to be seen. How did we outrun it? Finally I calmed down for a moment. Just a moment.

I sunk back into my chair and I took a deep breath. Phil finally settled down into his seat. I could still sense the fear with my friends. We sat there speechless, probably because we were all too terrified to speak of what we just said. seen. But then, the worst came. The screamer suddenly landed on top of the hood of our car. The vehicle bounced wildly a single time and then the demon's eyes were glowing that blood, red shade. An explosion of cries and profanity escaped from our lips as the monster peered at us inside.

It then raised its long, slim arm and its hand burst through the windshield. and it seized Frank's face. I could hear Frank's horrified muffled screams as the creature's clawed fingers dug into his cheekbones. The car began swerving violently left to right as the monster impeded Frank's vision. I could see my friend grabbed the screamer's wrist and tried to desperately rip away the hand on his face.

But as hard as he tried, the being was far too powerful for him. Finally, the scream tore his hand away from Frank's face only to leave a patch of fleshy, blood-stained skull, an eyeball dangling from a piece of flesh in its place. The creature roared that demonic growl for a second, and then it leapt off of our hood into a place where I couldn't see it, most likely in the trees.

The car finally made another violent swerve towards the left, and it crashed right into the trunk of a huge tree. Shards of glass went flying everywhere, and the body of the car shook violently. Oh shit, I groaned as I tore at the handle of the door to the left of me. We've got to get the fuck out of here, man. I heard Phil shriek madly. Both opened our doors and went sprinting out of the car and went our separate ways.

At this point, it was every man for himself. I darted into the dark forest, knowing full well the risks that came with being in there. The screamer could very well have been waiting for us in there, and it would pick us off. Both like flies. Sharp branches from the surrounding shrubs and bushes scraped at me as I scouraged through the dense wooded area away from the vehicle. As I dashed through, I couldn't help but think of Phil. Where did he run off to? Was he okay?

Would it have been better if we'd stuck together? I then stopped for a moment to catch my breath. I bent over and placed the palms of my hands and my kneecaps and took deep breaths. for a moment or seemed silent. Then all of a sudden I heard a blood-curdling scream that made my hair stand on end. I immediately stood up perfectly straight with my eyes wide and my mouth slightly agape.

Into my horror, I recognised that voice. It was filled. At first I heard just deranged, painful screaming, but then I began hearing some sort of bizarre groaning mixed in with those screams. I then heard Phil, begin to urgently call my name, begging for me to come to his aid. But I didn't move. What in the fuck could I do besides get us both slain? So I just stood there, listing in horror as my friend

was torn to shreds by this entity from hell. As the attack progressed, I could hear Phil screaming become more garbled and deranged, to the point at which he was just coughing and gasping, possibly then even vomiting. Until finally, the agonizing whales and my friend ceased. He was dead. I was now the sole survivor of this trip. I took a deep breath and quickly came up with a plan. Well, the car, although damaged from that crash into the tree,

was still functional. In fact, I could still hear the engine rumbling. I'd bolt for the car and tried to drive away as quick as I could. I knew for a fact that the screaming was now hunting me. So I had no other choice. If I remained stationary, I'd die. I peered through a few bushes, and I could see the car still running, headlights still working okay, smoke slithering out of the towelpipe. The engine was still rumbling. Gathering all of the strength that I could, I sprinted towards the vehicle.

I could hear myself breathing more difficult than before, and sweat poured down my face and my head in buckets. finally I reached my goal I got to our car and I could still see Frank's dilapidated corpse sitting at the driver's seat God his face was mutilated and atrocious for I knew I didn't have time to feel grief over my lost friend nor disgusted by the putrid wound left on him by that monster so I grabbed his cadaver with one hand on the collar of his blood and sweat-stained shirt and the other by his shoulder and I yanked his body out of the car I tossed it onto the side of the road and hot into the seats. The cars were already in the ignition, so all I had to do was reverse it and get the fuck out of this hellhole.

As I was in the process of backing out the car and rotating the wheel, I suddenly saw them from the corner of my eyes, two burning cinder-like orbs staring at me from the dark treetops. Without hesitation, I slammed on the acceleration and took off at full speed. My hands trembled while they were on the steering wheel, and my eyes remained anchored on my rear-view mirror. I sat there praying as I drove, despite my agnostic beliefs.

I needed to find comfort in something. I felt a cold grip of fear tighten around my neck and my heart was racing as I saw the screamers' tall, lanky body come chasing after the car. I clenched my teeth and my hands on the wheel tight. as I saw its eyes glowing malignantly, and it was coming closer and closer. I then witnessed it crouched down as if preparing to leap. I knew what I was going to do. It performed a mighty leap, similar to the lad of frogs, towards the car.

But I jerked the car quickly to the right, evading the creature. I saw it turn its hideous face in a somewhat flabbergasted manner, and then it tried another leap at the moment. me. Well, this time I swirved to the left, dodging its attack. Well, it went on like this for nearly 30 seconds, when suddenly the screamer stopped leaping at me. This time it simply sprinted up beside me. The car was going as fast as it could, so I couldn't get away. The screamer then lifted its long, skeletal-like arm and slashed at my door's window. An involuntary reflex made me put my arm up to defend myself.

The demon's claw scraped my arm and a sharp stinging pain shot up through it. I cried out in pain and stared at the three massive claw marks that were now served as my wound. Luck began oozing out of them. I shook my

head. Oh fuck! I screamed aloud as my hands got back on the steering wheel. The screaming then lunged at the side of my vehicle once more and this time it slashed at my face. I cried out once again and clutched my face, feeling blood beginning to ooze through the slits of my fingers. Suddenly the screamer grabbed the car's door and tore it right off of its hinges. Began to reach out towards me. I jerked the wheel to the right, just invaded its

grasp. Suddenly, the screamer stopped. I stared at it through my rearview mirror. I just stood there tall and staring at me in some trance-like state. I blinked and I took deep breaths. Why had it just stopped? What had I done to make it cease its attack? As I sped down the road towards what seemed to be my escape, I suddenly felt it that intense gust of wind and the loud unearthly scream. I clenched my teeth and shed my eyes tightly as I braced for it. I'd scream once again caused my vehicle to rock from left to right, as if I were driving in some intense hurricane. The windows of the car, or what was left of them, began to rattle, and it shattered the remains of the windshield, and the trees swayed violently back and forth. Dirt and rocks began flying

into the air, and my ears stung in such pain. Well, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the howling stopped. I took a deep breath and peered at my now cracked rear view. mirror. The screamer was nowhere in sight. My muscles relaxed and I leaned back into my seat. I drove home as quickly as possible just to get away from this place. I parked my car right outside my house and I barge my way inside. I shut the door behind me and I immediately collapsed onto the floor, exhausted and terrified by what I'd experienced. Oh, that thing, its long, slim body and its fire red eyes, its hideous shrieks and of terror as I slowly drifted off to sleep.

My final thoughts were questions regarding why it had happened and why it had stopped. I thought about that legend my grandfather had told me long ago, and then it hit me. I'd got out of the patch of land that the screamer was assigned to guard. I survived simply because of a certain boundary. I now knew I would never venture into that forest again, because something was in there. a vengeful spirit or entity protecting the land of a Native American tribe who had been treated so poorly

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 favour 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.