Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep303: Episode 303: Monsters and Demons

Episode Date: December 30, 2025

We open proceedings this evening with ‘Dark Woods Demon’ by Schtar, kindly shared via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Dark_Woods_Demon https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Schtar Tonight’s second terrifying tale of the macabre and weird is ‘The Wolfman of Willow Lane’ by the wonderfully talented Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all: u/Corpse_Child/ r/DrCreepensVault/comments/w5rb3v/the_wolfman_of_willow_ln/

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Monsters and demons frighten us because they give shape to our deepest, most uncomfortable fears. The parts of ourselves and the world. world we struggle to understand or control. They below the line between what is human and what is not, reminding us how fragile our sense of safety truly is. Often born from darkness, folklore or faith. These creatures carry the weight of punishment, temptation and chaos, suggesting that evil is not only real, but watching, waiting and patient. In their in human eyes, we see the fear that something older, stronger and utterly indifferent could step out of the shadows at any moment,

as we shall see in tonight's two tales. As ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. The Dark Woods Demon, by Starr. Jacob cursed as he pushed through the thick underbrush,

trying to make his way to the tree stand he'd built earlier in the summer. He was certain that this location were given an optimal line of sight to the neighbouring field in which he frequently saw large herds of deer. This was going to be his year, and he was sure of it. This is the year that I bring home my trophy buck, he thought, as he recalled the events of the day so far. He had awakened at 4.30 a.m., and he began to prepare for a long day in the woods, on the backside of his farm.

his first order of business had been to locate and rescue his gloves and camouflaged hunting gear from whatever undisclosed area of his home that his wife had hidden them in he would most assuredly need them this morning to protect him from the bitter cold november morning how could it be this cold this early in the year he wondered as he started to work on his second task of the day which was to prepare a breakfast that would stick to his ribs long into the day he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted this morning morning, but he finally settled on toast, country ham, and scrambled eggs that were just a little too running. He topped it all off with a large cup of coffee that had left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. In fact, he could still taste it. After accomplishing tasks one and two, he packed himself a bologna and cheese sandwich for lunch, grabbed his Remington 30-06 hunting rifle, a thermos of coffee, and headed out the door. He loaded his gear into his truck and poured out of the driveway, and turned right onto the one-lane black-top road that led to the backside of his property.

After about two-and-a-quarter miles, he turned right again off the black-top onto a dirt road that was gouged with deep mud-filled ruts. He'd travel about half a mile down that pitiful rut-filled excuse for a road when he came to his desired location. He got out of his truck and loaded his gun and sauntered off into the woods. Jacob had gone little more than 500 yards into the densely. wooded tree line, when he began to wish that he put on an extra layer of clothing to shield him against the chilly morning air. Ten minutes out of the truck, he was already cold. It was made worse

by the cloudy overcast day, and the wind that was blowing steadily through the trees, making the autumn leaves rattle like dry bones. Oh well, he thought. It's going to be a good day anyway, especially if I bring home a big one. Jacob took about ten more steps, when an uneasy feeling began to creep over him. He felt as though someone had stepped over his grave. He got the distinct feeling that he was being watched, but by whom? This was his property, and it was posted. No one had permission to be on his land. He had to be alone. But if he was alone, why couldn't he shake this eerie feeling that was scratching at the base of his skull? Something was off today. There was a deafening silence there in the forest.

No birds or insects, only the sound of the wind in the trees. Convincing himself that it was nothing more than a case of nerves, he continued to press on until he came to a clearing not far from his tree stand. Stepping into the clearing, Jacob saw the remains of what appeared to be a large deer. He wasn't quite able to make out what he was seeing from this distance, because the sun wasn't completely up yet and the forest was still enveloped in shadows. Jacob walked closer to get a better look. and found that he had been cracked.

There was a deer, a large eight-point buck, in fact. Looking at the remains, he felt a sense of dread come over him, and the icy fingers danced along his spine. Something about this kill just didn't seem right. The throat was completely torn out, and the stomach was ripped open, plus several of the internal organs were missing. It was the most grisly thing he'd ever seen.

This definitely wasn't a coyote kill, and no hunter would have done this. They would have taken the head to have it mounted. What could have done this, he wondered. A fear like nothing he'd ever experienced before began to wash over him in waves. What was going on, he thought? At nearly 225 pounds and well over six foot,

he wasn't one to give him to fear, but now he couldn't seem to calm down and his heart was beating like a trip hammer. The feeling that he was being watched was getting stronger by the minute. and he couldn't shake this feeling that he was moments away from a bad situation he slowly started to back away from the mangled carcass

and head back to his truck and back to safety no more than six steps into his journey his blood turned to ice in his veins as a deep guttural wailing scream shattered the eerie silence and what was left of his courage he'd grown up and lived on the farm all his life and had been an experienced hunter since childhood.

He was familiar with every animal in this part of the States. Not even a cougar, bobcat or bear could have produced the scream that had torn through the early morning forest and filled him with such a bone-chilling apprehension. Primal fear now gave way to stark terror as he chambered around into his 30-06 and turned around only to find there was nothing behind him. His mind raced with confusion,

and he was confronted with a million thoughts at once. What should I do? What could it be? Should I run? Am I going to die? His survival instinct kicking into overdrive, Jacob decided to continue on his previously contrived plan, which was to go to the truck and get out of there while the going was good.

Slowly and cautiously, he made his way toward the perceived salvation of his vehicle, silently praying every step of the way. With 300 yards separating him from his only avenue of escape, Jacob began to hear heavy footfalls off to his left. He could hear the crunching of withered leaves, sticks and debris that littered the forest floor. Summaring every ounce of courage that remained within him,

he forced himself to look in that direction. That's when he saw the dark silhouette that followed him through the densely tangled forest. Quickening his pace, he redoubled his efforts to reach the truck and get to a phone and call the sheriff or the game order or anyone that would listen. Couldn't tell what it was that was stalking him, but he could clearly see that it towered more than seven feet and was incredibly massive.

Jacob couldn't help but think that he was about to become a national statistic, a person who left home under normal circumstances and just disappeared without a trace. How many people, he wondered, go into the woods and just vanish, and the authorities just assume that they've become lost or injured or when the victims of animal attacks

with their bodies never recovered. Oh, please God, don't let that happen to me, he thought, as he drew closer and closer to his truck. 75 yards became 50, 50 became 30, and 30 became 10. Like a miracle, he was back and opening his door. Throwing his rifle inside, he pulled himself up into the cab and started the engine and hit the gas.

But the truck went nowhere. He'd parked in a large mud puddle, and now the tire simply spun, slinging mud 30 feet behind him. Oh no, not now, he thought. I can't be stuck. Not now. Allowing himself a moment to think,

Jacob remembered, this truck is a four-wheel drive. There's no way I can be stuck. Reaching down, he locked his truck in four-wheel drive. and was prepared to punch the gas and leave this nightmare behind. Now, unfortunately, for Jacob, some nightmares are not so easily left behind,

and there's nothing worse than a nightmare you can't wake out from, and Jacob was about to learn that the hard way. Hearing something to his right, he instinctively turned, and immediately wished that he'd not. It took him maybe a second to turn his head, but he would have given anything in the world to have that second back, because it was the last moment that his world would ever seem normal again. In that split second, his world changed.

There was no longer a place where the world was light and safe, where he was just a husband and a father, and a guy that liked a hunt and watched football on the weekends. That reality had evaporated away like early morning fog, and all that was left was a world where monsters existed, and things really did go bump in the night. and now an ambassador from that nightmare realm was standing just outside his passenger door

a visible reminder that his world had been turned upside down. Jacob screamed as he stared transfixed on this escapee from a horror movie in his most terrifying fevered dream he couldn't have imagined that such a thing could exist. It was hideously ugly, easily standing eight feet tall with a thick, muscular body. It looked very apish in appearance. But then again, it didn't.

There was just something about that face that was just wrong, almost like an obscene amalgamation of man and animal that had gone horribly awry. It was the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen. It's completely covered with thick, shaggy black hair that was matted in areas with God only knows what, and it walked on two legs, not four like you would expect from some kind of animal. What was this thing that had shattered?

his perception of reality. Was it a demon? Was it a werewolf? Oh, it can be, he thought. Those things don't exist. Maybe it was some kind of reject from the island of Dr. Moreau. Whatever it was, it was staring at him,

and he did not look happy. The menacing juggernaut threw its enormous head back and led out a blood-curdling scream that resonated throughout the surrounding area and seemed to vibrate him to his very core. shot back into action Jacob threw his truck into gear and took off as though he were being chased

by the very hounds of hell Jacob mind racing wondered what he was going to do how will I ever feel safe on this farm again he thought and my wife and children in danger where did this thing come from

will anyone believe me the whirlwind of thoughts that swirled through Jacob's mind came to an immediate stop as he slammed on his brakes and nearly slid off the road. In a state of disbelief, Jacob sat staring at the large hackberry tree that laid across the dirt road and blocked his path,

preventing him from reaching the blacktop and guaranteed safety. How is this even possible, he thought. I just came down this road not even 30 minutes ago. This path was clear. And however this tree came to be across the road, it was painfully obvious to Jacob, but he had to get that tree moved if he was going to make it home.

Since he had neither chain to pull the tree out of the road, nor did he have a saw with which he could cut up this unexpected barricade, he was left with few viable options, one of which was walking, which he discounted almost immediately. Well, the most logical course of action that he could come up with was to call for help. His best friend, Kenny Patterson,

on the farm just over from his. If he were home, he could bring a saw and cut the tree up for him. Jacob, his nerve still frazzled and frayed, reached into his glove box and pulled out his cell phone and clumsily dialed Kenny's number. The phone rang six times and Jacob was about to give up when Kenny answered the phone and said, Hey, ugly, why do you want this early in the morning? As quickly as he could, he related the recent events to Kenny and said, Man, please hurry, I'm not kidding, there's something out here. Kenny, hearing the shakiness in his friend's voice, assured him he'd be there in a matter of minutes.

Jacob thanked him and hung up the phone, braced himself, for what he was sure would be the longest few minutes of his life. Part 2 Sitting motionless with bated breath there in the truck, every sound made his imagination run wild with fear, with fear of fear and expectancy. Even though little more than three minutes had passed since he'd spoken to Kenny, it felt as if it was ours. Each tick of the clock seemed to be in eternity. Jacob frequently checked in all directions for any sign that that nightmarish monstrosity had pursued him. In every shadow at the forest, and this irritatingly cloudy day produced,

he thought he saw the shape of the black beast that had followed him out of the woods. He was afraid that he'd lose his sound. long before Kenny arrived to clear the tree out of his pathway. After what seemed like a lifetime, Jacob heard the sound of Kenny's old truck sputtering up the road, and in just moments he was able to see the old red Chevrolet as it made its way closer to him. Jacob's spirits lifted when he saw his old friend,

and a sense of relief washed over him as he realized that he was no longer alone. Stepping out of his truck, Jacob said, Oh man, what took you so long? I asked you to hurry. Kenny, with an indignant look like his face said, What are you talking about? He only called me 11 minutes ago.

I think I made pretty good time. Jacob could hardly believe that only 11 minutes had passed. It seemed so much longer. After apologising to his friend and telling him exactly how happy he was to see him, both men walked over to the fallen tree and made a discovery that startled them both. The tree hadn't broken. broken. It hadn't been cut. It had just been pushed over and completely uprooted.

All around the tree were large, bipedal footprints, that as somewhat human appearance to them, but if they were human, the owner would require a size 28 shoe. Jacob and Kenny looked at each other, and then without a word went to work on the tree. Kenny took a huskvana chainsaw from the bed of his truck and began to cut up the fallen blockade. Meanwhile, Jacob pulled the logs and debris from the road. Mission accomplished. Kenny put away his sore, and he and Jacob were about to get in their vehicles and leave. But before either man had even opened their doors,

an ear-splitting scream that would have filled a banshee with paralyzing fear erupted from the woods behind them. Wharily, Jacob walked over to Kenny and whispered, That's what I was telling you about. I don't know what this thing is, man. but it looks like some kind of monster. I think we need to get the hell out of here now. Kenny, who looked as though the blood had drank completely out of his face,

became very pale, as he said to Jacob. Jacob, man, I've never mentioned this to anyone before now. But over the last few months, that thing's been killing off a few of my cows. Their throats are usually torn out, and the bodies are mangled and broken. I didn't want anyone to accuse me of being crazy and making stuff up. so I never said anything about it, but that's the reason I rushed over when you're called. I've heard that sound a few times off in the distance at night, but never this close. So I think you're right, old buddy. It's time to go.

Cautiously and with a sense of urgency, Jacob and Kenny climbed into their vehicles and expeditiously made their way back to the Blacktop. Turning left, both vehicles began the two-and-a-half-mile trek that led back to Jacob's house, so they could decide what course of actions should be taken. Jacob could feel the temperature drop as snow began to gently fall. He reached over and turned his wipers on as snow began to pelt the windshield harder. As he passed his neighbour, William Springer's farm, he noticed a herd of deer grazing in the field that bordered his own property. Having put a bit of distance between himself and the nightmare he just encountered,

Jacob felt a renewed sense of security as his fatigued nerves began to calm. Not yet willing to let this opportunity pass him by. Jacob turned on his hazard lights and pulled to the shoulder of the road and signalled for Kenny to do the same. Kenny instinctively knew what Jacob was thinking as he pulled him behind him and turned his ignition off. Getting out of his truck, Kenny said.

What are you doing, man? We need to get out of here now. Jacob said, I know, I know. And we will, just a minute, man. I just can't turn this down, man. Oh, I have to take the shot that is a six-point buck standing right there. It's not the trophy that I wanted, but at least I won't go home empty-handed.

After the morning we have, I think we deserve a little something good. All right, just take the shot so we can go. I still don't feel right about this, Kenny said. Steeding his rifle across the hood of his truck, Jacob zeroed in on the buck and prepared to fire. And that's when he heard Kenny make a gasping noise and whisper, Oh, my God. What is it, man? What's wrong with you? Raise your scope three inches, he said.

Raising the scope, Jacob immediately saw what had been the cause of Kenny's alarm. Standing just outside the tree line in the edge of the field was the creature that they'd left behind, not even five minutes ago. Was this thing following them? Was it after the deer? What was it doing? Jacob watched the creature through his scope for a full 30 seconds before it ever moved, and when it did, it ignored him and the deer,

and started to lo-hoff towards William's barn. It was just about 500 yards from where the woodland demon had been standing. Jacob called out to Kenny and said, Kenny, call William and tell him there's something trying to get in his barn. Well, I know he has at least two mares with falls in there. if that thing gets in it'll kill all of them in an attempt to be rid of this monster werewolf, Sasquatch, Wendigo

whatever it was, Jacob fired a shot but missed the creature turned in their direction and glared at them through red hate-filled eyes and then began to run toward them at full steam Kenny who was still on the phone with William screamed at Jacob to get in his truck and go Jacob did as he was told

and Kenny soon followed suit Starting their trucks Jacob and Kenny both raced to Jacob's houses though they were driving on the NASCAR circuit Arriving at home Jacob gun in hand ran inside to get a phone book so they could call

the game warden and the police and get some kind of animal control out there to get rid of this thing Jacob had just stepped out onto his front porch when they heard gunfire coming from over at Williams' place dropping the phone book and running back inside Jacob grabbed his 12-gauge pump shotgun and some shells

and handed them to Kenny, who took little time in loading it. Jacob and Kenny, now locked and loaded, walked together to Kenny's truck, preparing to mount up a rescue for their neighbour William. Simultaneously, both of them stopped in their tracks as an uneasy but familiar feeling crept over them, and Jacob's Rottweiler and two German shepherds began to whimper,

and ran under the front porch to hide. Kenny, whose throat had suddenly gone dry as a bone, whispered to Jacob and said, I have a really bad feeling about this. No sooner had the words escaped his lips, and they heard a deafening scream erupt from the forest off to their right, and the creature exploded from the trees right in front of them. Until now, neither man had been able to fully appreciate

the colossal size and scope of the beast, but standing less than 30 feet away they were almost overcome by the sheer magnitude of this thing. Jacob had seen it up close earlier from his truck while sitting down and had guessed the height at maybe eight feet. But now standing there looking up, he could tell that this fellow was eight and a half or nine feet tall and would tip the scale at 800 to a thousand pounds.

It had inhumanly long arms and bulged with thick, ropey muscle that were easily seen beneath its long, shaggy black, hair, which covered it from head to toe. The chest was larger than a 55-gallon drum, and there was little doubt that it could have poured the arms off an ape, and now it glared at them with malevolent intent. Jacob and Kenny both opened fire without hesitation. The creature screamed with rage as the bullets tore into its massive body, knocking it to the ground, but not killing or even seriously injuring it. Jacob and Kenny watched speech as it crawled into the tree line, struggled to its feet and limped away.

Jacob ran back to the porch and grabbed the phone book and called the local game warden. Nearly two hours later, Jean Trowbear, the local warden, showed up to take their statements, had told them that he'd been caught out to answer numerous such reports in the area, but he wasn't sure what to make of all these reports. Guys, he said, I don't know what to tell you. There's no animal in this area, or any area. for that matter that fits your description you come not saying i don't believe you i just don't know what it is jacob face now reddened with anger said come here here's the blood from where we shot it and here are the footprints a look of complete confusion washed over jean's face and he asked if they were care to go with him as he tried to track it well both men agreed but they said they weren't going without a gun Gene stated that he planned to take his gun along as well.

All three men loaded their guns and set out following the deeply impressed tracks and droplets of blood that had fallen on the withered leaves. They followed the trail for about a mile until arriving in a creek that was located deep in Jacob's Woods, where the tracks that they were following were joined by others just like them. Some were smaller, but at least one set was larger, deciding that the safest course of action would be to return home, they all went back to Jacobs. None of them relished the idea of staying out in the woods longer, since they were now apparently more than one creature,

and the cloudy overcast day made the forest seem even darker than it would normally be at this time of day. Back at Jacobs, Gene informed them that there was nothing left that he could do but file it under an unknown animal sighting, which made both Kenny and Jacob anything but happy. Jacob and Kenny spent the next couple of days trying to warn their neighbours to use caution,

when they were out in the forest. Most of their friends just laughed at them and said they'd probably seen a bear or something. No one believed them except William, who'd seen it himself the same day they had. He'd even taken a shot at it, but missed. Jacob, William and Kenny knew what they'd seen,

and knew it was still out there, and they didn't care who believed them and who didn't. Over the next few weeks, more and more neighbours began to take the story a little more seriously, as family pets began to disappear, and others were found brutally mangled. Other farms in the area began to find their cows and other livestock torn open with their throats ripped out. Just a week after shooting the creature in his yard, Jacob's own Rottweiler was found dead with its throat torn out, hanging across a limb on a tree in his

front yard. It almost seemed like a revenge killing. A few days later, one of William knew foals died the same way. The foal's mother had to be put to sleep because she got into shock over whatever she'd witnessed there in the barn when her foal was killed. Well, some people in the area still don't believe. They think

the whole story was made up. But Jacob and Kenny know that there's still something out there in the forest. They still occasionally find tracks, or a slaughtered cow, or goat. They still hear the blood-curdling screams off in the woods at night.

they know that there's still something out there watching and waiting biding its time something cold and cunning and cruel something not human with a taste for blood and revenge here there be monsters In the late 1940s, only a few years after World War II had ended, the United States Army Air Force is embarked on a project that was as audacious as it was ridiculously dangerous. The project was known as Crusader, an experiment to test the feasibility of America's giant long-range bombers

to be powered by nuclear propulsion. By the early 1950s, with the Cold War with Soviet Russia reaching a boiling point, The newly designated United States Air Force was ready to test the capability of having a nuclear-powered bomber fleet in the air 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with the capability to strike the Soviet Union within seconds of receiving the call that the world was coming to an end. Joining with the Atomic Energy Commission, the Air Force outfitted especially modified Convair MB-36 bomber with an actual nuclear reactor. At the time, the MB 36 was one of the largest bombers ever did. designed, and dwarfed America's largest World War II bomber, the B-29 Super Fortress. The MB-36 bomber completed nearly 90 hours of flight testing over the continental United States,

with the nuclear reactor operating high over the skies of New Mexico and Texas. The operations were considered so risky that a second B-50 Superfortress, modified from the original World War II B-29 Superfortress, follow behind the MB-36 with a specially trained crew to handle radiological hazmat fallout should the MB-36 crash. By 1957, with initial flight testing completed, the MB-36 bomber, whose serial number was S-slash-N-51-2, was officially listed in the Air Force Records as being scrapped. Her continued research on the project continued until its cancellation in the Air Force Records.

1961. That's where the official U.S. government records end, but where the account of following events begins. In 1958, under the thickest veil of secrecy, an N.B.36 bomber, with a number 51-5712, completely erased from its tail, landed on the island of Okinawa,

about 900 miles southwest of Japan, to continue further flight and weapon delivery testing. presumably very few records remain of this phase of testing as these were conducted at a level exceeding top secret and any records which may survive to this day are still a closely guarded national secret still by what secondary and tertiary accounts that do exist of that phase of testing of which it can be safely assumed that half are inaccurate or completely false the testing was considered a success by all measures, the nuclear-powered MB-36 having made successful secret test flights from the Philippine Sea to as far south as Australia and the northern tip of

New Zealand and back. Rumors even circulated of a strange American bomber being seen over Chinese and North Korean airspace at the time. Sometime in early 1959, the MB 36, having completed that phase of testing, the bomber and its crew prepared for their flight back to the mainland United States. It was to be the longest flight for the nuclear-powered bomber, taking it from Okinawa, over to the North Pacific Ocean, to the Gulf of Alaska, south of Cook Inlet and Anchorage, and then across the entire United States mainland, until it reached Langley Air Force Base in Virginia. This was to be done entirely on nuclear propulsion and with absolutely no refueling stocks. The accompanying B-50 Superfortress would be with the MB-36-Ofer

most of the Pacific leg, until it was relieved by a second B-50 flying out of Anchorage. Accounts of what happened next, if indeed such accounts actually existed, are extremely scarce and border on wild speculation. Given what little accurate information is available, what can be reasonably surmised is this. About three hours into the flight, the accompanying B-50 Super Fortress experienced some type of mechanical engine failure, and was forced to return to Japan. However, for some unknown reason, the now unaccompanied Mb36

was ordered to continue on its mission to the rendezvous point with the second B50 over the Gulf of Alaska. Who exactly gave this order is up for speculation, but the fact remained. The NB36 would be alone for the next five hours until it linked up with their B50 escorts. Sometime during that five-hour window,

the MB-36 bomber disappeared. No record of the U.S. military search and recovery efforts exist, but it can be safely assumed that it was as extensive as it was secretive. The only indication that such a mission ever took place came from old Soviet naval reports, which were released in the early 1990s, during the period of Glasnost when the Soviet Union collapsed. The report came from a Soviet submarine,

which, at the time, was quietly stalking U.S. naval surface vessels operating in the area. According to the report, several dozen U.S. and Canadian naval warships were operating in a 1,500-square-mile area of the Pacific Ocean in the waters west of British Columbia. According to the submarine captain, they seemed to be searching for something. For their part, both the United States and the Canadian government dismissed any such inquiries into this matter as simply a regularly scheduled joint naval exercise between two close NATO-allied nations. Still, the rumours persisted that angry messages were sent to the United States and the US Department of Defence from Canadian Prime Minister John Diffenbaker

and the Canadian ambassador to the United States, Arnold Heaney, shortly after the search efforts ended. Apparently, they were extremely upset that the United States had somehow secretly and unnecessarily endangered the Canadian mainland in some way, A relations turned noticeably sour between the two neighbouring countries for several months from 1959 to 1960. In 1961, newly elected American President John F. Kennedy officially scrapped the entire nuclear-powered bomber program, and the 15-year experiment became just another billion-dollar footnote in the

annals of failed military experiments. The development of successful in-flight refueling for bombers and intercontinental ballistic missiles had made the nuclear-powered bomber project obsolete. The MB-36 Crusader project was swept under the rug and was very quickly forgotten. Oh, that should have been the end of the story, except for one seemingly unconnected event which occurred in 1968 in the waters of the Pacific Ocean. In March of that year, approximately 1,560 nautical miles north of the Hawaiian island of Ohio. The Soviet submarine K-129 was mysteriously lost with all 98 crew members on board. An extensive air search by the Soviet Navy found nothing of the stricken submarine

and rumors abounded as to what had caused it to sink. From a hydrogen explosion in the batteries to a leaking missile door causing one of her on-board missiles to explode to even claiming that a United States naval submarine, the USS Swordfish, had intentionally rammed it and caused the Russian vessel to sink. Well, the Soviet stuck with the last theory that the United States was somehow responsible for sinking, and tensions again rose between the two superpowers, though the U.S. Navy claimed that no such ramming had occurred. These tensions came to a head when only a couple of months later, in May of 1968, a U.S.

Navy's skipjack-class submarine, the U.S. Scorpion, was mysteriously lost in the Atlantic ocean, taking 99 American sailors with her. Several Soviet naval war vessels were operating in the area of the scorpion's disappearance. Speculation was that the scorpion was attacked by the Soviets in retaliation for the sinking of the Soviet K-129 submarine in March. This time, however, it was the Soviets who claimed to have had no involvement with the sinking. Regardless of who or what sank the USS Scorpion, tensions were at an all-time high between the Soviets and the United States, as the US was already deeply embroiled against a stubborn and

determined communist enemy in Vietnam, while the communist Soviets were quickly spreading their influence all over Eastern Europe and threatening the Western European democracies. The safety switches on the nuclear weapon-stop powers of both sides had been shut off, and the threat of a nuclear conflagration was never more than a second away. Fortunately, a nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union. Union never occurred during what is now considered the Cold War era, but other seemingly completely disconnected occurrences began happening in the oceans across the entire globe. Fishermen, sailors and those who made their trades by living off the ocean began reporting seeing strange

anomalies in the water, things which were huge, unknown and very much alive. Reports of sightings of giant sea creatures reportedly resembling monstrous sea serpents or sea dragons in the Pacific Ocean, spiked by over 600% in the 1970s, including a famous picture which made the world news headlines of what was described as the carcass of a prehistoric pleiosaur dredged up from the ocean by the Japanese trawler Ziu Maru off the coast of New Zealand. While many in the scientific community speculated it was the remains of an unusually large basking shark. The carcass was thrown overboard by the crew after the captain took pictures of it. was never any solid proof to either prove or disprove that it was either a known species of shark

or, if it was, in fact, a recently deceased prehistoric dinosaur. These many hundreds of reports and sightings were never really taken seriously by the enlightened popular scientific community and were largely relegated to tabloid newspapers or brief, what was that, news reports on local television news. The popular narrative of the time was that anyone who believed those reports, or attempted to do any serious investigations into what were, in effect, ancient nautical horror stories told by drunken sailors, was not to be taken seriously.

Such things were only an amusing distraction to the drudgery of daily life and nothing more. This almost worldwide belief that there was no such thing as a leviathan-sized creature lurking in the depths of the Pacific Ocean continued decades later, even when in 1997 the U.S. National Ocean, and atmospheric administration recorded an odd, low frequency, high-amplitude underwater sound in the South Pacific Ocean. Called simply the bloop, the sound was recorded at a point 50 degrees south and 100 degrees west of the southern tip of South America, and was picked up and heard by multiple senses at a range exceeding 3,000 miles away, though some in the scientific community

initially stated that the bloop came from an as yet unidentified marine animal of exceedingly massive proportions, it took until 2012, over a decade and a half later, for scientists to dismiss the bloop as simply glacial ice moving. They came to this conclusion, despite the fact that glacial ice has been moving for thousands of years, and no prior recording of this magnitude had ever been recorded, and that the sound signature was a rapid variation in frequency, which can only be produced by marine animals. It was also near this area when crewmen aboard Japanese research vessels began reporting sightings of monstrous aquatic creatures, completely white in colour, human-like in shape and over 90 to 100 feet in length, swimming off the waters of the Arctic, not far from where the bloop sound was recorded at the tip of South America.

One other fact which had been left out or simply forgotten from all of the news broadcasts was that the population of all species of marine, Whales in that part of the Pacific Ocean had fallen dramatically for over two decades, inspired of the fact that human whale harvesting had dwindled dramatically over the same time period. Other odd occurrences involving whales included the increased number of whale beachings along the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Environmentalists and activists attributed these mass suicides of whales upon the beaches surrounding the Pacific to sonar activity by US naval submarines or climate change caused by U.S. military operations. Not one scientist or biologist ever brought up the theory

that something predatory might have chased the whales to the shore so eager was the desire to place blame on the United States military. In fact, the fear that U.S. military operations were causing global warming and forcing whales to beat themselves was so great that in 2010, Democratic Congressional Representative Hank Johnson of Georgia lectured the United States House Salm Services Committee

and the American commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, Admiral Robert Willard, but continued U.S. military operations such as a planned training operation to have marines land on the beaches of Guam would cause so much global warming, whale-beaching and overpopulation.

The whole island of Guam will tip over and capsize. But whales were the only large creatures to suffer from mysterious deaths. Another incident occurred in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Australia a few years later. Scientists had tagged a nine-foot-long female Great White Shark and was tracking it when suddenly the tag indicated that the temperature had abruptly increased to 78 degrees and that the device had experienced a rapid plunge in depth to around 580 meters in a matter of seconds. The stunned scientists could only speculate as to the cause of such a bizarre event.

and for days tried to come up with a logical explanation of what could do this to a great white shark. The only conclusion which the scientist could determine was that the nine-foot-long apex predator had been swallowed by something even bigger, which then immediately dived deeper into the depths of the ocean. To the world at large, all of these events, from the loss of the nuclear-powered MB-36 bomber back in 1959, to the loss of the Soviet submarine a decade later, to the increased sightings of weird, anomalous things in the Pacific Ocean, and to the deceased well population and increased well-beachings over the last 30 years,

were nothing more than peculiar, disjointed, and totally unconnected incidents. The world was rapidly becoming an overly complex place to live, with strife, civil war, economic and environmental turmoil, social unrest, drought, famine, disease, power-hungry politicians and an endless array of other calamities that attacked the average everyday citizen of the planet Earth.

They had no time to be concerned about mythical sea monsters or horrific lovecraftian monstrosities from the depths until the day that the wreckage of the MB36 was discovered was to shore on a desolate island of the Pacific Ocean.

Ironically, the wreckage of the long-forgotten MB-36 nuclear-powered bomber, was hiding in plain sight for an undetermined number of years, as its mostly intact left wing and parts of the fuselage had washed ashore on a tiny uninhabited island hundreds of miles south of Alaska. With modern surveillance, such as Google Earth and satellite mapping technology, it may even have been viewed hundreds of times by unsuspecting people who had little idea of the significance of their find. Perhaps mistaking the wreck warplane is just one of the thousands which had been lost in the Pacific during World War II.

As there was no record of a nuclear-powered bomber being lost in the North Pacific, there was no reason to suspect that the wreckage was anything more than a tragic loss from a tragic war. Regardless, the wreckage remained undisturred for decades until a documentary news crew from the BBC hired an underwater research vessel to search for long-lost ships and planes which had perished during the horrific and deadly naval battles, which had taken place between the United States and Imperial Japan's naval forces. They just concluded filming,

were sailing back to San Diego when, almost as an afterthought, the director of the documentary decided to make a detour to investigate the old wreckage which had washed ashore on that deserted island. It was not known if the vessel had ever reached its objective. Two days after their last check-in with Pearl Harbor, all communications with the ship had been lost. An extensive search of the area by the British Royal Navy, the Canadian Navy, and the US Coast Guard commenced, though nothing was found of the missing research vessel, except various bits of floating debris and two empty life preservers which presumably had come from the ship. It was when the British Royal Navy decided to search the island where the British researchers were headed, that the United States State Department did an incredibly odd thing.

The U.S. declared a 300-mile exclusion zone around the little one-and-a-half square-mile island, forbidding any except authorized U.S. naval warships to enter the restricted zone. It was almost 60 years to the day that the MB 36 went missing. The United States finally found pieces of that nuclear-powered bomber, and that, unfortunately, is the part of the story where I come in. My name is Captain Samuel Gabriel, United States Marine Corps. And the commander of a very highly trained and highly specialized unit of CBRNE, Seaburn, Marines. Seaburn stands for chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear, and high-yield explosives.

Our job as military emergency responders is to recognize and mitigate attacks from such weapons, which could create mass casualties and mass disruption to society from, for example, a nuclear, chemical, or biological attack. Stationed in Hawaii, we were the nearest unit of this type to the mysterious little island that was located some 1,000 nautical miles due northwest of Oahu. Admittedly, calling on a seaburn unit to search for a missing research vessel was highly unusual, but, as the old saying goes, as is not to question why, as is but to do or die. I was told to bring only the minimal amount of personnel that I'd need to conduct this search in recover operation. Still not knowing exactly what we were searching for, as my chain of command said,

that was secret information and that I'd be filled in on a need-to-know basis. I chose 17 of my most experienced seaburn Marines and divided us into two teams of nine Marines each. We were told to bring our heaviest hazmat suits, oxygen breathers, radiological sensors, radiation alarms, decontaminating agents, and a full combat load for our M-4 rifles. In addition, all recording devices such as cell phones, go-pros, or any type of audio-visual recorder was strictly forbidden, all over what was supposed to be a simple search and recovery mission. Every one of us knew that there was some underhanded block-ops thing going on when we boarded the naval assault ship, the USS Wasp, as it floated dockside at Pearl Harbor.

waiting to take us on the four-day journey to that small, lonely island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. For two days of that trip, my seaburn unit basically sat around aboard the massive USS Wasp Assault ship with this large internal bays which could comfortably hold an entire U.S. Marine assault battalion along with all its armored vehicles. For this mission, however, two ugly bus-shaped Boeing, C-H-46 C-night helicopters, two AH1Z Viper attack helicopters and two UH1Y Venom utility helicopters were parked aboard the ship's flat top.

Again, these were not the types of aircraft which were optimized for air-to-sea searches. On the third day of the voyage, when we were about 350 nautical miles from our destination, the captain of the USS Wasp had us do radiological surveys of the air and seas. To our astonishment, we found that both the air and sea samples

east of the island contained an elevated amount of radiation. A second test at 300 nautical miles from the island revealed even higher levels of radiological contamination. The captain decided to change course to approach to the island from a more southerly route and to our relief, radiation levels dropped significantly. A hasty meeting inside the tactical operation centre of the USS Wasp was set to discuss possible causes and sources of the radiation.

We had a significant amount of civilian, and specialists also on this mission, including two CIA agents straight from Langley, Virginia. They told us that the radiation was lightly spillage from the Soviet K-129, which was lost decades ago, some 350 to 400 miles from our location. This may well have been the case, but in a highly secretive mission, the US government had raised the wreckage of the K-129 from the sea floor, and by all accounts, there was very minimal radiation leakage from her missile siloes. The next day the USS Wasp took up station about five miles to the west of the target island.

The radiation levels had increased steadily the closer we got to the island, but not to a point where the accumulation would be considered hazardous if we could complete the mission within 12 hours. Soaking inside our fully enclosed hazmat suits and straining from 50 pounds of gear and equipment under the humidity of the vast Pacific Ocean, my marines loaded aboard one of the CH-4-6 sea-night helicopters destined for the shores of that mysterious island floating five miles in the distance. The fact that my marines were also carrying fully loaded M4 rifles

made me suspect that we were not going to be doing our primary mission as seaburn specialists, a feeling that was confirmed when I saw who was boarding the other CH-4-6 helicopter. The other Chinook helicopter was filled with specialists, also in hazmat suits, working for the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the US Department of Energy, and the US Environment, Environmental Protection Agency. They even had a team of U.S. military historians aboard for good measure. Although our initial mission briefing aboard the USS WASP was considered top secret,

it was filled with only the barest of need-to-know data by the two high-ranking CIA types followed by incessant reminders of the harsh penalties that we would expect if any word of this mission were leaked to the public. At that point, I had a little idea of the impact that this discovery would unearth. in truth i didn't believe the cia types did either my marines and i were experts at our jobs when it came to securing hazardous radioactive waste materials even if they were long-dead bobbets lost in the ocean for decades it was a cia's job to cover up some past blunder that the u.s government was responsible for we would do our jobs they would do their jobs and the world would be none the wiser flying in from the western part of the tiny island the two cahs H-4-6 sea nights landed in a clearing on the beach. Though we knew it would be uncomfortable, the plan was to walk the one mile across the relatively flat island where the wreckage of the plane lay washed up on the opposite beach. So far, there had been absolutely no attempt to ascertain

the fate of the missing British research vessel, and it quickly became apparent that that was just an excuse to get us out on this humid, desolate island, enclosed in our heavy, claustrophobic-inducing hazmat suits. Breathing laboriously through our heavily filtered gas masks, we sweated under the merciless sun as we made our way deeper into the island. The two CIA types who were running the entire mission remained behind aboard the safety of the USS Wasp, but coordinated our movements via secured radio transmissions. Curiously, they told us marines to leave all equipment behind inside the helicopters, except for our handheld radiologic sensors and our M4 rifles. The civilians would do all of the required work once we'd reach the wreckage.

We could have scanned ahead using aerial drones, but again the CIA operatives were adamant that no visual recording devices were to be employed during this mission. We soon entered a jungle area where the trees seemed eerily weird and misshapen, as if their branches had been twisted, did to cause the trees to feel excruciating pain. There were no birds or animal life present, only these tortured and oppressed-looking trees. My marines were taken the hike as well as could be expected, but the civilian specialists who were accompanying us were another story,

unused as they were to the exertion that came with walking through a humid island jungle, sealed inside a heavy rubber and carbon suit, which was lined with lead. Two of the civilians, an obese late-middle-aged gentleman who was one of the military historians and a young man who was one of the EPA specialists were complaining of feeling dizzy and light-headed, obvious symptoms of heat exhaustion. We sat them down as comfortably as we could on a fallen tree trunk underneath a jungle canopy and had them drink water through a tube connected to a bladder of cool water on their backs. I left one of my Marines to keep an eye on them, figuring that we wouldn't be gone for more than an hour.

by which time I was hoping that the two civilians would be well enough to walk back to the sea nights. Why weren't we allowed to land the sea nights right next to the wreckage of the aircraft, was never explained to me, but I figured that the CIA wanted eyes on the landscape, although we were forbidden to record it. I radioed the situation back to the ship, and the lead CIA operative impatiently ordered us to move out. We were now a quarter of a mile from the opposite beach,

and in the thickest part of the jungle, with a triple canopy of what looked like hideously misshapen palm and coconut trees masking the sky above us. We halted and stared in disbelief at what lay before us. There, half buried in the white sand and earth, with a skeletal remains of some type of aquatic creature, which looked to be over 70 feet long when it was alive. It looked to be the remains of some type of whale,

yet clearly it wasn't, as it had a neck that stretched across the ground and ended in a head which seemed far too big for the rest of its body. The gaping mouth hung open, revealing row upon row of dagger-like teeth, some measuring six inches long. It had what appeared to be two sets of massive flippers near the base of its neck, and the other set at the start of its long tail. At first I thought it may have been some species of prehistoric animal, except that the air was still filled with a fetid stench of decay, and, amazingly, there were still some sun-bleached leathery teeth. clinging to the undersides of the rib-cage, meaning that whatever this thing was, it had died fairly recently.

What bothered me the most about the monstrosity was the condition of the bones and skeleton, as they seemed to be plagued with unnatural, cancerous growths along the entirety of its body, which seemed to twist the spine, neck, and tail into what looked to be uncomfortable angles. As massive as this dead thing was, it also looked to have lived a life of constant pain before death took it. Immediately I radioed our finding to the USS Wasp. After a few long minutes of what I took to be in decisive silence, the lead CIA operative acknowledged my transmission and ordered us to continue the mission. In a few minutes, we emerged from the sweltering jungle

and walked on to the beach under the unforgiving sun. The large wreckage of a bomber's wing and about 30 feet of fuselage was sitting half buried on the beach. The radio Radiation levels were already spiking as we approached, and it didn't take long for the second military historian, a young female, to confirm that this was indeed the wreckage of the MB 36, codenamed Crusader. At the time, none of us Marines were familiar with what she was referring to, so she gave us a very quick rundown on the history of the MB 36, which I had previously written about earlier. Up until now, the existence of the crashed nuclear-powered bomber was just the stuff of forgotten myth and Cold War legend.

But it was true. The EPA and the DOE personnel ran a battery of tests on the air, soil and fuselage of the bomber, but we all already knew what had occurred. For over six decades, that radiological material had been contaminating an area of roughly 350 to perhaps as much as 500 square miles of the Pacific Ocean, mutating and corrupting the sea life around it.

That nuclear reactor was here somewhere, buried under the tainted blue waves of the ocean, and giving birth to unimagined horrors. Once all the testing was completed, the civilian specialists retreated back into the jungle, as I and my Marines rigged the wrecked wing of fuselage of the bomber with explosives for detonation. We were halfway back to where we'd left the two heat-exhausted civilians when the explosives detonated. The jungle thudded like a heavy bass drum and echoed with the booming rumble as the MB-36 wreckage on the beach was reduced to nothing more than unrecognizable scrap. That was when we heard the high-pitched, hissing sound of a serpentine roar, followed by the sounds of M4 rifle fire coming in the distance. Ordering the civilians to stay put, by Marines and I ran in the direction of the firing, past where we'd first seen the skeletal remains of the mysterious. dead beast. Before long we were back where we'd left the two civilians suffering from heat exhaustion. What seemed to be a serpentine creature nearly 80 feet long, white in colour,

and coved in what looked to be white coarse fur, towered over them. It's more opened at least ten feet wide and filled with scimitar-like teeth. The stench of rotten decay emanated from the thing as it dragged itself forwards on two large flippers. The two civilians were attempting weakly to crawl away as my marines stood between them and the horrific thing which had slithered out of the jungle, firing their m-4 into the creature's mouth. Without being told, my marines charged the creature, clumsily running across the jungle floor in our bulky and uncomfortable hazmat suits, breathing hard and firing up at the serpent. The hideous thing looked down at us, seemingly confused by this new threat.

We stood only 30 metres from the thing, towering a good 20 feet over us, emptying magazine after magazine of rounds into its head and neck. It swiped and bitted us, but failed to snatch any of us into its hungry moor. Finally, one of my marines began lobbing rifle, launched high-explosive grenades at the hellish beast, and it collapsed injured to the ground. We collected my lone marinas, well as the two civilians, that she was protecting and policed up the rest of the civilians before making a dash back towards the way we come while giving the wounded serpent creature a wide berth. At that point, the pilots of the

CH-46s were sending out frantic transmissions, telling us to hurry and return to the helicopters as something was happening with the USS Wasp. A radioed that we were a few minutes from breaking the cover of the jungle as we pushed, dragged and carried the civilians forwards towards the beach. behind us we could hear branches snapping and saw trees falling as the white serpentine creature continued its pursuit of us we finally broke the edge of the jungle and were greeted by the blinding sight of sunlight reflecting off the white sands although my Marines were completely exhausted from their ordeal they still pushed the civilians towards the open ramp of the CH-46 and formed a very thin line that turned to face the approaching horror behind us the

The trees parted as the thing pulled itself out of the jungle canopy and onto the beach. Bloody mouth still opened and black. Hostile eyes staring hungrily at us. Again we opened fire with our small armed weapons. Again we opened fire with our small arms weapons, while my grenadier launched a high explosive round that impacted inside the beast's more. The creature's head exploded in a spray of fetid-smelling bone and gold. the massive 15-foot mandible tearing away from the rest of its head.

Wearily, we turned and ran the rest of the way to our waiting C-H-46-C-night, the pilot eager to leave the beach. I stopped briefly to ensure that all of my Marines were accounted for and looked out across the ocean toward the USS Wasp. Even at this distance, I could see the ocean churning and frothing behind our assault carrier, our two viper and venom gunship helicopters circling over the unnatural disturbance in the water. As our helicopters drew closer to our ship, the back ramps of the sea-nights still lowered, we stared out the back in shock as the source of the churning waters behind the USS wasp appeared.

A mottled, brown-green neck, easily 80-feet-long, stretched out of the ocean. An ovular body could be seen just under the thrashing waves that was roughly 40 feet long and tapered to a short, thick tail that ended in fins that resembled that of a shark. The Leviathan horror had two sets of gigantic flippers, resembling those of a prehistoric pleasaur, the front ones easily 20 to 30 feet long each. A dorsal fin protruded from between bony spines on its back that rose 30 feet above the waves as the horrific sea creature swam in an undulating motion to catch the USS wasp. The most terrifying thing about the beast was its head, which seemed impossibly oversized

to be supported by its neck. The head resembled that of a great white shark, with horny protrusions crowning its head in a jaw so massive that it could easily swallow a nine-foot-long great white shark hole. The thing was now only a hundred metres behind the USS Wasp, which was steaming away from the creature at full speed and throwing up a massive weight behind her. All of a sudden, our AH-1-Z vipers opened fire with air-to-surface missiles and chain-gun fire. The ocean erupted in large spouts of white waves as explosions stitched the back of the creature. The mutated monstrosity hissed loudly, turning its ungodly large head towards the sky.

By this time, the two UH-1-Y Venom helicopters were also adding their ordinance to the cacophony of heavy weapon fire, raining machine gun and rocket rounds down upon the creature. Even my marines were firing out of the open back ramp of our CH-46, using their personal small arms weapons. Hemorrhaging blood, gore and chunks of flesh, the creature turned away from its pursuit of the USS Wasp, turning left just split seconds before it would collide with the ship. One of its gigantic flippers hit the assault carrier on its port side

as the creature dove under the waves, and actually tip the USS Wasps towards Starboard. Our assault carrier rocked back and forth for a few tense moments before regaining stability, and we were allowed to land aboard her deck shortly after. The USS Wasp was already steaming back towards Pearl Harbor when our two CH-46 Chinook helicopters finally touched down on her deck.

The two CIA operatives, apparently having seen enough, and deciding that discretion was the better part of being a meal to some radiation mutated undersea nightmare. After a week of extensive debriefings at Pearl, my unit was suddenly disbanded, my Marines placed on leave and awaiting orders for further reassignment to other units. I was placed on leave and am now awaiting a transfer

to a unit currently operating in Africa. Meanwhile, the US Navy is currently conducting extensive naval operations within a thousand-mile radius of the island. officially the unscheduled exercises to perform anti-submarine and search and rescue training the reports abound that a large naval salvaging and scavengership outfitted with radiological protective measures was seen leaving naval station pearl harbour in the wee hours of the morning prior to the navy exercise as i write this i'm sitting out on the back porch of my ranch home in

ogden utah i've recently bought this land and i purposely built my house on hilly land far from the nearest big city, and a mile from my nearest neighbours. It's night time, and the stars twinkling above the cold, clear skies are shining brightly. I stare up at them, wondering what ancient mysteries they hold. Do they wait for the primitive species from Earth, so recently divorced from our homes within the caves, to clumsily fly out to them? I laugh unconsciously, something my seven-year-old son, Sammy Gabriel Jr. said tonight before he went to bed. He said that when he grows up, he wants to join the new U.S. military space force, so that one day he could explore the galaxy, find new alien species, and shoot them.

That's fine, I guess, as long as he doesn't join the Navy or the Coast Guard, or any trade that puts him out into the middle of the ocean. I've seen what lurks under the waves, and there'll be monsters there. The Wolfman of Willow Lane By Corpse Child I'm afraid of the moon As stupid as I know that sounds

I am I'm afraid of the moon I'm afraid because of what it can do to people Lunacy Lunatic Both have two things in common They both mean insane or crazy and they both have something to do with the moon.

Well, they did back in the day, before they just became two more worse to get thrown around wildly. But just think about it. So much of what we associate with insanity, we attribute to some effect of the moon. We've wondered for years if there's any sort of truth to it.

Is there? I hear you asking. Well, I really can't say, though I'm definitely considering the possibility. whatever it is that does it one thing has been made very painfully clear to me there are forces in this world that at any moment can make themselves known to each and every one of us and bind us to their will and there's not a damn thing we can do about it i want you to remember those words as you listen to this i wish someone could have told me this when it all happened just a few months ago it had been a thing for at least a year or two but it was only a few months months ago that things really took a one-way trip to Bizarroland. The Wolfman of Willow Lane, probably won a Weeping Willow's greatest headline since 2019, when a bunch of the kids apparently used to go missing.

I moved into Willow Lane back in late 2020. The place was exactly what I needed. An affordable roof over my head inside a quiet, well, quiet at the time, neighborhood. people weren't much the type to throw block parties or neighbourhood barbecues or even the type to come out and shout hey there a neighbour I know that might put some people off the utter silent solitude but not me no I loved it I moved in from Dallas and I was in one of the main residential areas

the ones you see closest to the grocery stores which I might as well have been living in the Times Square with all the noise and traffic that flew by every day would only get worse at night. This, in short, was a perfect match for me. I dream home, if you will. Well, this dream lasted until at least mid-2020. It was last summer when I started hearing the howling at night-time. It was loud, too, enough to where I began having trouble sleeping.

The thing is, though, I couldn't just blame the dogs for why I couldn't sleep. I had measures to help against noise. How do you think I made it back in Dallas? ASMR, rainfall ambience, podcasts, stuff like that were the things I'd used regularly to help me sleep. Occasionally I took pills as well. I was told to watch how much of that stuff I used. Well, apparently it can mess with my natural melatonin and even serotonin output,

according to my doctor. But neither one was working this time. I had no idea why at the time, but I just couldn't go to sleep. For whatever reason, my brain just would not turn off. And so, after feebly attempting to shut my eyes and get some sleep, I smashed the fuck-it button and decided to do what any other person in my situation would do. Brew a pot of Maxwell House and browse the internet till dawn. I couldn't find any really interesting articles on Google to read about

or any interesting posts on Facebook or anything, so I eventually just settled for binging Hulu. The thing was, though, even with this, I couldn't relax. I felt jittery. No, it wasn't the coffee. I felt on edge the entire time, you know. Well, eventually I gave up with Hulu and just decided to turn on one of my playlists

and see if I could maybe just relax that way. Here's some background noise to stir my brain enough that my body could relax. well it kind of worked i was still wide awake but not to a point where i looked like an alcoholic around the coffee pot if you take my meaning i couldn't help but to look outside listening to the dogs howling at the night sky looking up at the sky i could see the big bright waxing moon glaring down back at me i remember thinking how bold it looked raised high in the sky like that

not like a lion who was fighting vigorously to break the confines of the night sky, desperately trying to expose its full auroral beauty for the world to see. It was hypnotic in a way. Eventually the constant howling sort of blended into my trance the way an alarm clock does when you're asleep. Travelling into your dream and becoming a sort of background noise. That's what happened with me. I was in a dream, essentially, a waking dream. I was fully conscious, yet the world around me was gone. There was me and the moon. Oh, and the damn dogs. I guess I fell asleep that night.

I guess you could say I woke up at some point, too, regardless of whether or not I was actually asleep, to see then that it was daylight out. I was still on my couch, in front of my laptop, like I was the night before. I'd actually stared up at that moon all freaking night. I felt exhausted, obviously, but at the same time something made me feel somewhat, well, somewhat invigorated. like mentally I was tired as hell

but my body felt like I wanted to go and run a 5K or some shit didn't make any sense to me regardless I managed to slung my way through the morning unfortunately I didn't have to work the next few days so I thought I could maybe make up for the lost sleeping time but nope couldn't even settle down enough for a mid-afternoon nap my body was just too damn primed

not only that but for whatever reason I couldn't take my mind off of the moon. Every time I'd close my eyes, even just for a second, I'd see it. It'd be looming down, lauding over me, almost like it was watching me in a way. I could almost hear it, if that makes any kind of sense. Probably just an exhausted brain. Sure, well, that's what I chalked it up to anyways. But I actually felt like somehow the moon was speaking to me. I know that makes no sense. It wasn't any easier for me to try and understand either. That's what it was like.

The moon was calling to me. Eh, whatever, I thought. Just a bad rhyme with insomnia, that's all. Gritch your teeth and get through the day. Maybe down a few shots of Jack or, hell, gluck some NyQuil. Things will go back to normal tonight. Well, the joke was on me. Yeah, I had a few shots of Jack, yeah?

I went out and picked up some NyQuil. quill and took some before bed, even downing almost twice the recommended amount per dosage. No, didn't do a damn thing all night. I was still too energized for whatever reason. And the next two or three nights following were absolutely no better. By the end of the week, I was looking and feeling like a 65-year-old man who'd had a hip replacement, despite the fact I was only 20 at the time. I remember it was actually while I was on hold on the phone that Saturday morning, making an appointment with the doctor about this problem that I would first hear about it.

I had the TV on the Today Show, while on hold, when a breaking news broadcast came on. On the screen was a photo of two teenagers, splayed on the ground, looking like they'd been mauled by a freaking lion. Their faces were censored, but just judging from their height, I'd have to say that neither one of them could have been any older than maybe 17. The headline read, Teen Cup. all found dead outside of local park. Now, according to the report, they'd been found only about an hour and a half ago.

They said police were canvassing the area for any possible suspects who they believe may have been or may still be lingering in the woods nearby. Well, this got my attention, sending my heart racing. That park was only about a few miles down the road from my neighbourhood. The broadcast then went on to detail how, evidently, there had been an unusual amount of dogs barking nearby all through the day as well. It's unknown at this time whether the sounds have any sort of connection with the murders. The reporter continued, but animal involvement has not been ruled out.

At this time, authorities have advised that residents keep any dogs inside their homes or inside of an adequate shelter. Police are also temporarily closing the park to visitors until further notice. We'll inform you as the situation develops. well I muted the TV after that I didn't want to hear anymore I was on edge damn what if that maniac's still out there

I remember rushing to the window and frantically throwing the curtains shut before realizing that in my panic I was still holding the phone in my hand sure enough right as I held the phone to my ear I was taken off hold and I heard a middle-aged woman's voice say hello Johnsonville urgent care This is Linda

How may I help you Um Yeah I answered Starting to feel queasy I'd I'd like to make an appointment All right sir

Can I have your name and birth date As I was starting to answer I started to hear the dogs from outside Riling up again Barking loudly Viciously Yeah Quintel Pierce

August 5th 19... I'm sorry, sir. Could you repeat that for me? My name or... Just hold on, sir. I can't hear you. This time I shouted into the receiver.

I said, my name is... Sir, are there any pets in the room? I barely heard her ask this. No, I shouted. No, it's the dogs from outside. Look, my name is Quintel Pierce, Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you on hold for a moment. Wait, don't.

But it was too late. Before I knew it, I heard the please hold message, followed by the stock elevator music. I decided to give up after that. Honestly, after the news report, I didn't feel safe going outside, even to the doctors. So there went another night, restless, unable to relax at all. Of course, this time, on top of feeling unusually hyperactive, well, physically anyways, I was also anxious about the deranged freak out there, likely not far from my house, who were just moored two kids in the park.

Ah, you see, I don't have a gun or anything, not even a Louisville slugger. I never needed one, even as noise as it was back in Dallas. Plus, my whole point of coming to Willa Lane in the first place was to live somewhere with peace and quiet. but now things were in multiple ways louder and more chaotic than ever regardless i powered through that night and the next as well as the next after that the bad well worse news was that i actually had to work that tuesday morning just for a second imagine what it would be like to try and sit for eight hours straight answering phone calls for tech support when you've had literally no sleep whatsoever ever for the last eight days straight, all while your body feels like it's on a constant royd rage.

As funny as that sounds, let me tell you right now, that was truly a pain in the ass day to have to get through. By nothing short of a miracle, I actually managed to slug my way through, help no doubt by the fact that most people's problems were fixed with simple, try turning the device off and back on again. On the way home, I stopped by the CVS and picked up the strongest night-time. meds I could get my hands on. I also took the liberty while I was out and get myself a pocket knife. It wasn't much, granted, but it made me feel a lot safer than having nothing at all.

That night, the meds actually seemed to work a little, at least in terms of not feeling quite as energized. I still ended up having to take almost three times the recommended dosage before. For the first night that week, I finally got some damn sleep. That said, that was when a new phenomenon occurred. In my dreams, there, leering down at me like the terrifying enraged eye of God, was the moon. Over here, unlike what you'd normally expect of the moon, I could feel some sort of heat, like from a blazing star radiating from it. It wasn't overwhelming, but instead, well, instead it was alluring in a weird sort of way. You could probably go with any number of scientific reasons as to why.

but I couldn't help but want to reach out and touch it, hold it even, like I was a moth flying towards a thousand-watt light bulb. It didn't move, yet it was alive. Actually, looking hard enough directly into it, I saw that it seemed to vibrate, resonating quicker and quicker by the second. Then, in the voice of easily the most beautiful women I'd ever heard, it says to me, come, join the past. I say nothing.

Obviously, for one thing, I don't know what the fuck that's supposed to mean. But secondly, because I'm still speechless in awe of this gargantuan cosmic marvel, this terrifying yet gentle colossus of the cosmos. Around me I see black shapes begin zipping around all over, circling me like bestial shapes with glaring yellow eyes and long, jagged ivory fangs, all racing around me, grounding. They get closer and closer. Come, I call you to come, join the pack, and we'll take what's ours.

The beasts then swore me, covering me in darkness. Well, I snapped awake after that, only to find that I wasn't in my house anymore. Looking around, I found myself sprawled out in a patch of grass just outside the gate of the park. What the hell? first reaction. I looked down and my eyes widened further, seeing that my clothes were all raggedy and unkempt. I looked like I'd passed out after getting shit-faced. Even more alarming was how dirty my hands were. A dirt was covering them all over, in and under my fingernails, and there were multiple splotches of dirt all over my shirt as well. I looked around. It was still just

hitting daybreak. No one else was there. I began picking my up when I found something that made me both scream and puke almost simultaneously. Underneath me was a half-eaten carcass of a squirrel. Well, almost out of some delayed reaction or cue, I immediately began noticing a foul taste in my mouth, and it wasn't the vomit. I tasted metallic as well as slimy and furry. I gagged again Oh my God What's going on? Did I

God Did I eat this squirrel? Well suffice to say I was well beyond freak the hell out Taking one last scan at the area Seeing no one was still around I scrambled back to my house Though the walk was only just down the road from my house

Like I said earlier my entire body felt so incredibly sore that the usual three to four mile walk ended up feeling more like a ten-mile one while having a hundred and eighty-pound brick of lead strapped to my back. When I finally did make it back to my house, I locked the door, again something I wasn't ever used to doing previously

before slugging my way into the bathroom for a bar. As all of this was happening, my brain was caught in a typhoon of questions. Questions like, what was going on with me? And, what happened? last night. These were just the itty-bitty tip of this iceberg. I was frightening of these being the question of what really happened to those two kids the other night. This was only

made worse when, as I was getting out of my clothes, the closer look at the stains in my shirt revealed that they weren't dirt at all. No, there were splotches of blood. This made me sick yet again. It was true. I'd done it. I'd eaten that squirrel alive. Well, more than queasiness, I felt myself become more and more anxious. If I'd done that to an animal, then could I have been the one to murder those kids? This inevitably led me down a seemingly endless rabbit hole for the whole rest of the week. Each day, on top of feeling jittery every night from whatever had been making me feel as such before, which was already leaving me mentally exhausted. Now, I was also feeling paranoid that someone was going to notice. I was especially

worried, though, about the possibility that the police would catch up to me. I mean, sure, I said nobody was around when I woke up in the park covered in blood, but even still, if I was the one who'd murdered those two before, then I knew it wouldn't be too much longer before they connected the dots and found me. That was probably the worst thing about this whole mess. The fact that I knew at any moment I was going to be discovered. Thought about wanting to turn myself in, you know, spare the extra drama and trouble. But that was the other thing about this whole mess that made it all the more confusing to me.

How did I know it actually was me in the park that night? Yeah, okay, the squirrel was my doing, and sure the victims have been found him basically the exact same condition, but were both of them my fault? None of it made any sense to me. I try thinking about each night prior, about how constantly full of energy I was, despite being half-dead mentally. But no matter how hard I tried, no answers came to me. None that made any sense to me, at least.

Well, that is, except for one that lingered in the back of my head. The events before, the abnormal insomnia, the dog's bar, the murders, the freaky-ass dream, the incident with the squirrel, all had one thing in common. The moon. I thought again to the times I'd stared at it, hypnotised by it. In doing this, I realized, each night I looked at it, it became more and more full. It's got me wondering. Stupid as this is about to sound, believe me, I was slapping myself just as hard for the suggestion back then, I began to wonder if I might be some kind of werewolf or something. Granted, the only sort of logic, and again, using that term very loosely, behind this theory

being the animalistic behaviour and again the whole squirrel thing. But at the same time, what was it talking about in the dream about joining the pack? I decided to look online at the sleeping medications I picked up the night I blacked out. I thought maybe they could be be some sort of psychotropic or hallucinogenic properties, which might explain that dream, even if the question as to why I'd been so restless before would still be a mystery. As I figured, though, nothing. They were just regular sleeping medications, although seeing that they weren't actually any more potent than the NyQuil I'd taken before, I was left with yet another question. Was it actually the meds that put me to sleep that night? Like I said, it was a far

fetched notion, about as far as you'll get. But at the same time, I had no rational ideas either. All I had were pieces, but no picture, well, outside of the possibility that I'd murdered two instant kids without even knowing it, and did it again with a live animal. With no other leads, I caved internally and started searching up articles and videos talking about werewolves. There are different mythos, strengths, weaknesses, and ways of becoming one and whatnot. most results that weren't about the Lon Cheney Jr. movie just detailed the usual werewolf schtick, big, extremely strong, superhuman speed, agility and senses, extremely hostile, and the whole comes out under a full moon routine were basically the gist of all of them.

Some listed different variants or breeds of werewolf, such as the Lub Garu, Rikolikos and even a few mentions of the Skinwalker from native folklore. All of this proved essentially useless, though, for one big thing. All of these detailed the ways in becoming a werewolf as either having some sort of contact with another one or having performed some satanic ritual or some shit, neither of which I've done. So, with no kind of leads and starting to feel the onset of a bad headache, ended my search there for the time being. That night the TV played another breaking news broadcast regarding the case from the other night.

This time, though, it was different for a couple of big reasons. The first being that this was a report of another body being found half devout in the park. This time it was an elderly man who was apparently out late walking with his wife and dog when it happened. Apparently, out of nowhere, some giant animal or beast jumped from one of the nearby trees and snatched him. well, according to the wife's statement on the camera. She'd apparently called the police when it happened, which was only a few days before at that time, by the way, who then began searching for him.

It was only an hour before the broadcast that night, though, that they'd found what remained of him in the hedge grove, only about three or so feet from the spot where I'd woken up with a squirrel. Well, now, I was panicking. That was on the same night, the night of the attack. That was the same night I'd blacked out.

The room began spinning, causing me to feel light-headed. Well, that was it. I'd done it. I'd mauled at least one person to death. Even if I could have denied it with the kids from before. Who else could it be this time? The broadcast went on to display a composite sketch of the creature based on the wife's description.

Looking at it, I noticed that it didn't really look much like a dog or wolf. In fact, it looked almost like a regular guy, just perhaps a bit hairier. According to the report, the wife claimed the beast was six foot four tall with ragged looking clothing. She also claimed it was growling at her like a dog or wolf, and she could see it bearing what she described as being sharp, ivory teeth, and canines like needles. The report ended with the beast being dubbed The Wolfman of Willow Lane My heart was racing

And beating dangerously quicker and quicker by the second God, they're looking for me As well as this though I felt agitated, I'm excited I was shaking violently like I had before Feeling like I wanted to go outside and just start running Just run and run not having any direction or destination in mind, just running.

It felt primal, like an ingrained instinct. It was like something was compelling me to run outside, a force that I couldn't, nor wanted to, resist. Join the back, and we'll take what's ours. I heard the dogs begin barking again, creating a uniformed ambience that ended up making me drowsy. Before I knew it, everything had gone black for me. I found myself in the same dream from before,

staring at the moon, leering down at me while black, shapeless beasts swarm around me. This time I hear them speak, growling as they run. Run with the pack, brother. The dream ended as before, with them all swarming me, engulfing me. Well, when I woke up this time, I was laid out, buck-ass nude, in the middle of the alley between the coffee shop and the hardware store downtown. Right before, the muscles and joints in my body felt tight, and I felt nauseous. I ended up having to hide out in the alley dumpster for a while, being that it was broad

daylight when I woke up, and therefore people would be out and about. I figured it would be best not to draw any kind of attention by walking out in the open, presenting myself in the bath. that said it was damn near sundown before the activity outside died down and i'd finally be able to come out and make my way home without being seen by that point i was beyond giving a rat's ass about what had happened that night or where my clothes had gone i only cared about going home and collapsing in my bed hell didn't even care about showering this time it was on that long walk home though that a thought occurred to me these things me waking up in random places after blacking out are all happening as i fall asleep not only that but again it's always as i'm staring at or thinking about the moon but why what was the moon doing that could cause this if anything at all how was it it able to do so, and for what purpose, if any? The biggest question, though, was if and or how I could make it stop if it was something with the moon.

At about the point where I'd exit the downtown area, toward where the park was, I heard a noise, like the growling of a giant dog coming from one of the trees overlooking the street outside the main perimeter. I started looking around, already panicking. Whatever was making that noise was no ordinary. dog. It sounded much bigger, much more vicious, and I could tell it was close. By then the sun had almost set, so I had trouble trying to see or distinguish much of anything around me. I looked towards the tree where it seemed to be loudest. Scinting my eyes, I just barely saw what appeared to be a set

of bloodshot eyes glaring at me from behind it, glimmering in the glow of the approaching moonlight. That was all it took for me to turn and start trying to book it the rest of the way back to my house. It was useless, though, as I heard the thing give chase behind me, quickly catching up with me and pouncing, pinning me to the ground. The creature wasted no time and immediately sank its teeth deep into my shoulder. I felt excruciating pain shoot through my right arm, before going limp. I shrieked and howled in pain, frantically clawing at him from behind with my good hand to try and pry him off of me. I finally succeeded by jabbing my thumb into his left eye,

causing him to let out a dog-like yelp of pain and recoil. Then turned around, I saw the beast for the first time. Sure as hell, this was the same creature that was described in the sketch on the news. But this wasn't a beast or werewolf at all standing in front of me. This was a man. just an average albeit rather tall and hairy and a bit more muscular man

like no older than thirty-five despite this his behaviour was like that of an animal he glared at me growling as he clutched the eye I'd put out before I could try and make another break for it he was on me again

with a hard swipe of his left hand like it were a giant claw I was not once more to the ground He then straddled me and began clawing and scratching viciously at my face. With every swipe I heard him growl and roar to the air, his own howls joining the chorus of the dogs. Everywhere across my body felt weak. My vision began to blur with each crushing blow dealt to my head. Oh, no, I'm done for, I thought as I slowly slipped from consciousness.

That, I think, was the first time in those couple of weeks since. all that shit had started, that I slipped unconscious without dreaming of the moon. I woke up, surprisingly enough, I don't know how exactly much later, to a police officer shaking me awake. Hey, are you okay, sir? he asked. I groaned, stirring awake painfully. What the hell happened? I asked. I raised my neck up to look around.

I was still outside the part perimeter. where I'd been attacked. As well as this, I was still completely naked. What happened? What's going on? Well, I was hoping you could tell me. I told him I'd been attacked by a mugger who must have taken my clothes

after beating me to a pulp. When I asked for a description, I kept the details as simple as possible, tall, strong, fast, and hairy. For obvious reasons, I didn't say it was the wolfman who'd attack me. I knew they wouldn't believe. it. Not only that, but in all honesty, I didn't really believe it either. Well, not then, anyway.

I mean, I didn't see a wolf man attack me. It was just a guy, right? Just a deranged freak with an animalistic bloodlust driving him, likely due to some split personality. But then, that begs the question about me, doesn't it? Could I also be suffering from something similar? How, for the I've never once been known to exhibit any sort of symptoms of mental illness. Sure, certain ones were known to begin almost spontaneously, almost out of nowhere. But that wasn't the case here, something I realized a while later after returning home from the incident. You see, after all of that, believe it or not, my sleeping problems were gone.

From that day onwards, up to the present, as I'm writing this, I've been able to sleep just fine. I also noticed the dogs weren't barking anymore. It was quiet again, just like when I'd moved in to Willow Lane. It was just this past Monday, though, that it started happening again. All through the day, I'd felt just fine, but come nightfall, I felt more agitated and energized than a ten-year-old hopped up on too much caffeine. We began having those dreams again, too, not long after it the moon keeps calling out to me summoning me to join the pack i still don't entirely know what that's supposed to mean but one thing has occurred to me wherever this wolfman is could it be possible that he was just like me at one point for sane normal and stable individual could he too

simply be a victim with the same sort of psychological avalanche that i was well this brings me the bigger and much scarier thought. Could someone else be next to fall under the moon's influence, turning them into a deranged animal? Regardless, I've locked all of my doors and I'll be locking and pulling the curtains on all the windows too when I finish. The dogs haven't started barking again, and I don't want to see the moon tonight, or any other night, really.

It's too bright, too full. I'm I'm scared of the moon I'm scared of the moon and so once again we reach the end of tonight's podcast my thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen

Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, 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. I don't know.