Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 12 Hours of Scary Stories For Sleep, Relaxing, or When You're Stuck at Home | Compilation

Episode Date: November 19, 2024

*Bonus episode**This episode is from 2020 (apologies if it sounds a little different and the numbers are off) on my YouTube channel. I have boosted the audio so it is easier to hear. A regular episode will be out tomorrow.😁 This is a Huge Scary Stories Compilation | For Sleep, Relaxing, or When You're Stuck at Home | 12+ Hours #ScaryStories #JustCreepy #Skinwalker #Forest #NationalForest Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

As a child, growing up in a heavily wooded area, we of course played in the trees and explored around us. There was only one place that was off limits, and even as an adult, I don't think most would step foot in there. We called it the thin forest. It was a section of wooded area off past an abandoned house at the end of the dirt road. For some reason, the woods that surrounded it were sparse and appeared decayed. Growing up, we heard all of the rumors, so much so that it became an urban legend around our small town. Apparently, an old man and his wife had lived in the home until his wife passed away from unknown causes. The thing is, no one knew she passed away for at least three months, or that's how the story goes.

She was discovered by a neighbor dropping by to sell some eggs and milk from her farm. From the way I heard it, the old man wasn't home, and the neighbor left to get her husband so they could search for him. She must have figured if the wife was left deceased for such a long period of time. Something must have happened to the old man. As she was returning with her husband and the two other neighbors, the old man returned. He was enraged by their presence and couldn't be calmed down. He locked himself in the home, and by the time they gained end up. he and his wife's corpse were gone. Everyone figured in the time that it took to get in,

he must have dragged her into the woods. Shortly after that, it said that the trees began to wither. No one moved into the home, but one couple did attempt to renovate it about 25 years ago. I guess I was six at the time. I don't remember much, and my parents didn't speak about it around me. I heard from Jason, though, that his parents said the couple went missing. Mary said her grandmother thought it was the spirit of a bitter old man that took them away. Either way, we did not play in the thin forest. We were a small community of neighbors, as there were only seven homes along many acres of woods and our little dirt road. As kids, we all roamed all over freely. About six months after Mrs. Green was moved into the nursing home. A nice family moved into her old house. I was 11 then.

They had a son named Michael. He was a goofy looking boy with a narrow frame, a head a little too large for his body, and ears too large for his head. Despite being the smaller of us, he was the bravest. He always climbed higher than we did, and always went deeper into the woods than any of us dared. He even liked to play with snakes. Michael and I became friends and spent much of our time together. A lot of nights we would go out and catch worms together. Sometimes we use soap water to lure them out, and others we just waited for a good rain.

Mr. Miller would pay us a nickel for each worm that he would go on to use his bait. Sometimes we'd stay out until right before sunup. We'd chat about getting out of the small town, and being somebody's when we grew up. Michael had big dreams to live in a city, have a fancy apartment, and nobody to answer to but himself.

One night, after we concluded that we'd caught enough worms that we could for the night, Michael looked at me with a particular glow in his eye. Want to do something crazy? He asked me. I shrugged. Like what? I asked.

There's nothing really crazy to do around. here, I said matter-of-factly. He grinned widely. There's one thing, he said, trailing off. I watched his head turn in the direction of the thin forest. Before I understood his meaning, he spoke again. I've heard the little stories you guys tell me, but I think they're just that. Stories. Don't you want to go in there and prove that there's nothing to be afraid of? We could scare the others. I didn't have a chance to answer before he started again. Think about this. We go in. Nothing happens. We say something happened, like we saw the old man or something. Mary and Jason would flip and basically bowed down to us. I could hear him getting more excited

as he went on. I know it's not the craziest of things to do, but if we tell the story right, the other kids will seriously think it was. I swear I could hear my heart rate raising as I could feel my hands starting to sweat. Michael, no one goes in there, and for good reason, something isn't right. He laughed. How do you know, Daniel?

The last time something happened, you were six. It probably didn't happen, like you heard it anyhow. Deep in my gut, I knew he was wrong, but what if he wasn't? It would be cool to lord it over the other kids, especially Mary. She'd really think I was cool. So, stupidly, I agreed. I wanted to be brave like Michael, and I figured if you're going into the thin forest,

he's the person you want to go with. The following weekend, we met up in Mr. Miller's yard near the tree line. Mr. Miller lived the closest to the thin forest, and his family had lived there far long. longer than any of ours. I felt sick and wanted to go back out. I could feel my stomach turning, and I remember feeling a little dizzy. I did my best to not let on, though.

I didn't want to appear chicken in front of Michael. He didn't look like I felt. In fact, he was positively glowing with excitement. Thinking back on it, I swear he probably could have lit the way through the thin forest with sheer excitement alone. He pulled a flashlight out of his backpack. You ready, Daniel? He asked with a big grin on his face.

I nodded, though I didn't feel ready. I stirred through my bag and grabbed my flashlight as well, and we started toward the old man's property, cutting through the woods on Mr. Miller's land. Looking back, I can still remember how I felt as we neared the thin forest. I almost want to say it was just dread or anxiety. but it was something else. It was though invisible forces were carefully pulling me closer

while others tugged at me to go back. I need you to understand this wasn't just a feeling in my head. I felt it on my body. Invisible hands carefully pulling at my shirt. I looked at Michael to see if he felt the same. I don't know what he felt as far as invisible forces, but he was smiling like a lunatic.

Have you thought of a good, tail to spin to the others, he asked me. I tried to answer him, but before I could open my mouth, I felt something else. The front half of my body was flushed with a sudden chill. I could feel it in my eyes, in my toes. The back of me felt warm, and I wanted to bolt away. Wow, it's cold, Michael said. I almost felt a relief that he was feeling it too. That's when I realized that we were standing on the edge of the thin forest. It's now or never, he said. I wanted to scream never and race home to be warm again,

and I wish I had. Instead, I just nodded and mumbled a quiet. Yeah. As we started forward, the chill encompassed my entire body. I did my best to ignore it. Yeah, I've been thinking. What if we saw the old man? Michael asked.

We could say he chased us out. Michael was getting louder as he went on. What if we find the wife's body, Daniel? Oh man, what if we did that? We'd be included in the stories then, he trailed off. Maybe because he was the braver of the two of us, but it didn't seem like he was affected by the changes as we went deeper into the thin forest.

After the cold came a whisper. It was faint at first, but it began to get louder as we walked. Leave, it said. I could feel it as it made its way into my ears, like a warm breath sticking to my neck. I wanted to leave, and I spoke up for the first time that night. Michael, we've been in the thin forest now. Let's go home. We'll think of a story tomorrow. I'm cold. He laughed at me. Are you scared, Daniel? He turned to me and pointed his light under his chin, emphasizing his fantastical grin. Scared of the old man? He asked, laughing. He kept walking forward before I heard it

again. Leave now, it said. Michael froze. I froze. He'd heard it too. It seemed as though he was about to turn back to speak to me until something else happened. The decayed trees began to creek. It started lowly and got louder and louder, until I felt like that might be the only sound I'd ever hear again. He's here, came the whisper. I felt the whisper more so than before. The breath, I suppose you would say, was hot on my neck that it hurt against my cold skin. It was like sticking your frozen hands under hot water. The pain was all it took to shock my system enough to start running through the thin forest back to the direction of Mr. Miller's. Growing up, the trees were sparse in a certain degree, and you really should be able to see your

way back clearly, for the most part. As I was running to get out of the forest, though, I couldn't tell which direction was the right one. The trees creaked louder as I ran. This time I knew I wasn't imagining the invisible hands, because I could feel them as they brushed up against me, reaching desperately for a firm grasp. I'd like to say that I knew Michael wasn't far behind me, but it wasn't until one of the hands latched onto my shoelace, and I fell that I actually looked back. I didn't see Michael.

I wanted to call out for him. I waited to hear him call out for me. I listened for footsteps, but I could only hear the trees. I felt the invisible hand sliding across my body, reaching from my face. As the hand touched my mouth, my mouth went dry, so dry that my tongue could just shrivel up and roll down my throat if it also wasn't so dry. I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. The thin forest went quiet. The cold faded,

and I shivered as warmth entered into my body once again. I laid there on the ground for what felt like hours, listening. All was silent. Eventually, I stood up to begin to walk again. This time I could see which direction I needed to go. I went back from my flashlight that rolled away after I'd been knocked to the ground. I pointed it in every direction, flashing it like Morris Code. I was too afraid to call for Michael, but I hoped he would see my flashes and make his way to me. He didn't. I stood stuck in that spot for two hours before I relented and made my way back home. As I reached my house, I started hoping this was some sort of cruel prank played by Michael. I knew whatever had happened wasn't his doing, but I hoped he was home. He didn't answer me because he wanted

me to be more afraid. Crawling into bed, I almost made myself believe it was a prank, and tomorrow Michael would come over, howling and laughter. I thought about what to tell him once he revealed the prank. I even thought of hitting him for it. I didn't fall asleep quickly, though, because I think I knew deep down that tomorrow Michael wouldn't be there. He never came back. I never told anyone what we had done. His parents split up eight months later after his disappearance. His mom never left the house, though. I heard my mom say that it was because she hoped that Michael would come home one day. Mary and Jason always seemed to know that I knew more than I let on, but they never pushed me for information. We grew up.

and I since left that small town. I have a nice apartment in the city and I've worked my way into a position where I almost only have to answer to just myself. Michael would have been proud, even though this is where he was meant to be instead. I never told anyone about what happened that night. I never planned to. I don't even know what happened myself. The only reason I'm sharing my story now is because I've heard from Jason recently. He and Mary, They got married. Apparently, they've been living a life of thrills, adrenaline rushes, and traveling since they moved away. Anyway, Jason told me that he and Mary decided they were going to go camping this weekend. They're going to set up in the thin forest and wondered if I wanted to come. I wanted to say no. I wanted to warn them not to. How could I? It's not like I told them what happened that night. It's not like I can convince two adults who regularly seek out thrills to avoid our childhood's scariest story.

So for the second time in my life, I have stupidly agreed to set foot in the thin forest. I don't think I'm really ready to protect them, because I know there's nothing I can do. I think I really agreed, because I've always wondered if maybe Michael is still there, wondering if maybe he's lost and waiting on me to find him. In any case, I'll find out this weekend. When I was a kid, my family spent our school breaks at a cabin that sat on Lake Anacoco in Louisiana. The building was a modest, open-style house that barely held all 11 of our extended family members on various sofa beds and cots that were strewn about the space. The place had air conditioning, but the heating was controlled by a wood-burning stove that sat in the middle of the,

the living room. The house stands as a strange blend of modern and ancient in my mind, though I haven't been there in years. The house had nothing to fear on the inside. It was packed to the gills with goofy and sometimes profane cow-themed decorations, an old typewriter that probably weighed more than a hundred pounds, and various country records that my grandmother would put on to dance with my grandfather. Nights where we weren't outside by the bonfires we'd stack at least five feet high, were spent indoors playing Uno or Domino's, while eating my grandmother's home-cooked meals. We'd dance and laugh along with silly songs or my uncle's colorful stories,

and on special occasions, we'd fire up the Nintendo 64 on the big screen when my grandfather decided that he didn't want to watch his bass fishing specials. The entire lakehouse was a representation of my childhood, and woods that surrounded it were my playground. My brother, three cousins, and I would patrol the woods, fish off the decrepit pier, and swim in the swampy lake that shared aside with a military base, Fort Polk. Unfortunately, our merriment came to an abrupt halt when I was about 13. I remember the day I got the bad news. I was at my grandma's house back in Texas where I lived, and my mom walked through the door at her usual time. However, her unusual sunny disposition was replaced with a grim, red-faced sadness.

Her eyes were swollen and puffy, and I remembered distinctly a hoarse whisper that replaced her usual greeting. My dad has cancer. I was young, but the sea word sent a bolt of anxiety straight into my gut. I had been to enough funerals of elderly church members to know what it meant for my beloved relative. My brother was five years younger than I, and even his eyes welled with tears as we received the news. My mother announced that her parents would be moving to a camp in Louisiana permanently to enjoy their last few years of life, somewhere quiet and peaceful. This meant that we would be spending a much larger amount of time there than we typically did. The bad days, the bad

news wouldn't stop coming through. We found out shortly after my grandparents moved that my grandmother was also suffering from cancer. She already had diabetes, heart problems, and was having issues seeing. She had been through a quadruple bypass the day my younger brother was born, so she had been failing in health for many years. The health issues of both of my grandparents meant that my family spent nearly every other weekend in Louisiana visiting my ailing grandparents and squeezing every ounce of time that we could with them. Watching them deteriorate was hard for us. We spent more time than ever outdoors,

so as to not smell the sense of sickness, chemo, and hospital supplies that permeated the lakehouse regularly. We explored the woods even more, frequently traveling the miles-long trails that surrounded the lake, We happened upon abandoned fishing cleaning huts and duck stands, but the most exceptional thing that we found was during a hike at dusk, a track. Animal tracks were so incredibly common in these woods that we barely even noticed the bobcat, deer, and duck prints that populated the dense trees anymore.

This track was different. For starters, it wasn't one any of us recognized. It was like the bobcat tracks we'd seen a thousand times. Four-toe pads connected to a larger pad, but it was different in one distinct way. It was massive. A single print was the size of our faces. The groove marks from its claws on these apparent paws dug at least four inches into the dirt. I examined the tracks of the animal using some of the survival training my uncle had taught me. The space between each step and the broken branches nearby meant that it had to be as tall as I was at the time, a paltry four and a half feet for a

teenage boy, but massive for an animal. There was this smell in the air I couldn't put my finger on, something like a blend of pennies and wet dog. Just when I decided it was time to go tell my parents about these strange tracks, my youngest cousin let out a screeching, curling sound. I spun quickly to look at her. My heart beating out of control at this point. She was pointing up in the trees. I took a step back, slowly moving my eyes in the direction of her finger. In the tree she was pointing at, there was a deer carcass. It was ripped to shreds and draped over a branch, half eaten. The deer's residue dripped onto the ground, creating a pool of crimson that was so large that I could smell it where I stood. I walked to the pool and felt the warmth emanate from it immediately.

It was fresh, really fresh. I whispered to my cousins to run back to camp immediately. They followed without hesitation, and I brought up the deer, glancing back as often as I could in the dense forest. I half expected to feel the beast was after me at any moment. It had to be close by. It had to hear us. As we reached the cusp of the woods where the open space of our camp started, I heard a noise that sent a chill through my body. It was a sound that I could only describe as a screaming woman combined with a roar of a lion. It pierced the trees and shattered the silence of the woods.

My cousins didn't stop like I did when the shriek got to them. They kept running up onto the porch and into the house, slamming the door behind them. I stopped at the fire pit surrounded by chairs that my grandparents built and watched the area that we came from intently. Slumping through the woods was a mound of black fur, just far enough away that it looked like a black blot of ink on green paper. Just as a flash of the animal appeared, it was gone. The sun was going down. Over the next few weeks, my cousins refused to go outside for too long. trips to fish were relegated to boat-only excursions,

and sitting by the fire during the nights roasting hot dogs and marshmallows were all but unheard of. We explained what happened to our parents and grandparents, but they seemed to think it was just another bobcat that we'd conflated into something much more sinister in the creepiness of the woods. Nothing happened for a few more visits until the temperatures began to drop in November.

During the week off for Thanksgiving, the temperatures began to drop drastically in the Louisiana swamps, creating a dense fog that blanketed the entire area. When it was foggy and chilly, the wind would spill through the trees like waves of mercury. It would bite through most jackets and cover up the lake so thickly that we couldn't see the ends of our fishing poles when sitting on the pier. My uncle and I would venture onto the lake on foggy days and go bait the trot lines that we had at various points in the lake to catch catfish. Most fishers hated trying to navigate the stump-ridden lake in limited visibility. So we had a good chance of catching something with the lake so quiet.

My uncle turned on his trolling motor and the boat crept along the water, barely making a ripple. It was around 5 a.m. and we were feeding. the line back into the water after baiting it with some perch that we had caught earlier in the week. We had on more than a few layers of clothing, but my uncle and I were still shivering. When we dropped the last bit of line into the water, I heard the noise again. The sound of the beast. A woman's scream combined with the roar of a large cat, but this time it was accompanied by the shrill, dying braze of some animal in the woods. I swore I could hear crunching as that thing tore into its prey.

I locked eyes with my uncle. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes were wide as I had ever seen them. The man was a trained army sniper and did mercenary work in Afghanistan. This was the first time I had ever seen fear in his eyes in the years I had known him. I don't know what frightened me more. My uncle's newfound fear or the fact that he didn't crank the engine, but instead elected to paddle quietly back to camp, like the thing would hear us and come running.

My uncle had some strong ties to the higher-ups at Fort Polk, where he used to work. When we arrived back at the camp, he immediately tied off the boat and escorted me inside. He rushed over to the phone when he was inside, furiously dialing someone. I only heard pieces of the exchange because he was whispering, but I did catch a few distinct words.

Containment, escape, dangerous, and untested. I knew he must have been talking to someone at the base on the other side of the lake. When he was done, he said that he wasn't sure what it was that he had heard, but we had some friends from the base working on figuring it out. That night, the fog rolled out, and it was starry, clear, and spectacularly chilly. The night was so crisp and clear, that even my ailing grandparents elected to go outside and roast food by the bonfire.

We found out, however, that we weren't quite stocked enough for everyone. So my grandfather elected to drive the golf cart we owned up the hill and down the road from the camp to a local corner store. My two cousins and I went with him, so he wouldn't be lonely. We got to the store within a half an hour or so of leaving the camp and pulled into the fully lit corner store. The owner, Michael, was a 30-something man with a missing lake, who was a veteran and former trainer at the military base. When we walked in, he was sitting on the counter with a half smirk on his face, eating a bag of sour cream and onion chips, smoking. He greeted us and helped us get what we asked for, some hot dogs, marshmallows, and extra buns, and some fishing line. After he rang us up,

my grandfather and he discussed a few grown-up things we weren't interested in, until a banging noise came from behind the back door of the corner shop. Michael said something about the dumb new kid he hired, and stepped out from behind the counter to go inspect what was going on behind the store. When he opened the back door and looked out, he managed to choke out. Oh no! As we glanced in his direction, whatever he saw pull him away from the door in an inhumanly fast,

jerking motion. He screamed and begged for the thing to let him go, for someone to help him. A few sickening crunches stopped his pleading. A red color pushed its way under the half-closed door of the shop and leaked out onto the white tile floor of the corner store. My cancer-stricken grandfather moved at a speed and strength of a much younger man. He scooped up the three of us, rushing to the cart. He pushed us in and floored it, spinning the tires before the golf cart, lurch forward and screamed down the road at its top, way above factory recommended speed of 45 miles an hour. I screamed over the panic of my other two cousins that it was the thing in the woods that attacked Michael. While we tore down the roads that led to our lake house, my grandfather

ignored me, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white. I grabbed his sleeve and begged him to talk to me about what we were running from. He kept looking forward, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. I don't know why he bothered. The lack of lights on these dirt roads made the view behind us a pitch-black void. He didn't even bother to slow down heading down the hill, and when he slammed his foot down on the top of the brake,

the car slid several feet. He commanded we get inside immediately. When we were inside, he loaded four guns and passed them out to my dad, my uncle, and me, keeping one for himself. The camp had four simple walls, but most of them were covered with windows. We couldn't see out of the camp on all four sides without fear of a blind spot, and it was well lit around the edges of the tree line, thanks to lights we had fixed to the trees a few years before. My grandfather put us all in different corners of the building, watching for the thing. No matter how

many times I asked, nobody would explain to me exactly what that thing was. About an hour into our Watch, we saw the thing coming down the hill, a lurking predator with yellow eyes, but indistinguishable otherwise. A blob moving in the darkness. Then, it did something I never seen a bobcat do before. Just as it arrived to the edge of where the lights lit the camp, it stopped, so that it remained nothing more than an inky spot, just out of view. It was only a few hundred feet away from it at this point, so I decided to take action. I slid the window. to open just an inch and prepped my shot when I felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder. He pulled the gun away from me and slid the window back down. Don't antagonize it. When my uncle spoke,

the thing looked in our direction. We held our breath for several seconds until it went back to pacing along the light's edge. Something about my uncle, calling the creature it, made the beast feel even more sinister in my mind. It also bothered me that he said antagonize, like the shot would do nothing to it. It stared at the building for several more minutes as if it were deciding what to do. Then, just as soon as I thought it was going to step into the light, the beast turned and walked back into the deeper darkness. We watched as it limbered back into the woods and out of sight. That night, I fell asleep in the chair. When I woke up the next morning, my uncle was by me on the couch, snoring lightly. Everyone else but my grandfather was asleep.

He stood leaning on the countertop with a cup of coffee in his hand, which quivered slightly. Though from weakness or fear, I couldn't tell. He looked older than he normally did. He was holding a paper that was delivered earlier that morning. Detailed in that paper was a report of how the military base had allowed a live panther to escape after being subjected to heavy testing, making it extremely aggressive and stronger than cats usually were.

It got two people and several people. pets and livestock that lived around the base before being sedated in the night and brought back to the base. I believe the report initially, but the longer time went on, the more it seemed that the initial news report was fiction. When the story hit national news, I truly no longer believe the reports of the paper. Gone were the stories of it being a panther. Now it was a Bengal tiger, and there was no mention of Michael and his horrible fate, or any of the other people, for that matter. The worst revelation of it all was the beast

was never captured in this particular report. I haven't been back to the camp in many years, but my cousins still visit it from time to time. They remember the sound of the woman screeching combined with the roar of the beast and the night well, because now and again they are reminded of it as it pierces the trees. It wakes them from their sleep.

They use those nights to sit around the table and eat marshmallows toasted on the wood stove, playing Uno, or maybe Domino's, until dawn. You know that moment when you're hiking up through the woods because you're mad, and you left the house without your jacket, and it's the middle of winter in New England, and yesterday was like 70, but today's like 30, and you severely misinterpreted the jerk behavior of the weather,

and you want to go back, but you don't, because then you'll see the gloating in your family's eyes, Like, yeah, we knew you couldn't do it. You always come back. And so you're just fuming and fuming until, wham. You trip over a buried mannequin in the middle of a gray, shadow-eating trees. Yeah, that was me yesterday. A mannequin, I guess.

I mean, it was, but the whole thing. Not just some stumpy half-body with a chest and torso, but no legs. It was dirty and covered in pine needles, carpeting and leafy. decay, but it was a head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Like what mannequin has toes? My own toes curled up in my shoes just looking at it there, and it looking back. You know what's freakier than a mannequin? A mannequin with a face.

The display window figure was unclothed and I hesitantly peered closer. I could tell that it wasn't just dirty, it was scrawled on. Weird, backwards looking letters in thick Sharpie. some crazy witch's intern had been practicing a sacrifice and then dumped it like you might crumble up a piece of paper with bad math and chuck it in a bucket. This mannequin had been chucked in the bucket of my woods. Honestly, I'm surprised the swarms of dirt bikers and quads didn't cartwheel over it already. It lay there helplessly, graffitied, and cold. One arm had been flung up like it had been turned to stone and knocked backwards, like it had been real. Those eyes.

were too real. I blinked and looked away. Really, I should have kept walking, but I was still mad. I grabbed a stick from the layers of mold and detrius, leveled it up under the mannequin's back, and flipped it over. There was another arm coming out of its back, a whole another arm. Like another mannequin deep in the ground had reached up through the earth and roots, and plunged its fist through the first body to wrench out its non-existent heart, then got stuck. The hell? I said, because I felt it was appropriate.

The stick slid from my hands, and I hissed as a jutting splinter sliced inside my thumb. Someone either had to have a weird installation art hobby that happened to have a gallery in my backyard, or all the stress in my life was finally pushing its way through my eyes and hallucinations. I hastily sucked my thumb,

then flipped the first mannequins back over, so I didn't have to look at the other one attached to its back. The plastic was cold and clammy, almost like skin. Why would a mannequin have skin? But why would there be a chain of mannequins buried in the woods anyway? I seriously thought about going back. I could just make out the shape of my house through the dry rustle of dead leaves. Stupid leaves, still hanging on. Still thought they were alive, even though winter had got them months ago. Clearly, I was still angry, so after scuffing a clump of leaves and grass over the mannequins, I walked on. I was hiking through my woods, and it's starting to get dark. The shadows

are growing, and the branches seem to be growing too. The sky is bending down the drain, and the light that comes through is sticky and stained, and gives you a little bit of a hiccup in your heartbeat. I kept walking, walking off the fields, off the mad, and was finally beginning to really feel like all of the spiky emotional stuff was leaving me, leaving me pretty cold too. The temperatures had gone down even further, and I was shivering in my shoes. After another minute, I flicked a glance back, startled to find out how far up the hill I'd come. Trees spilled away behind me, the curve of the incline, seeming steeper in the dusk, hunched trunks and tangled branches, creating a sort of looming arch.

That was the only thing I saw. Something was there, not too far behind me. A silhouette glimpse between blinks. An odd, sort of creaking, reaching my ears. Just the wind in the woods, I thought. Just these trees complaining about the cold. But there was no wind. Nothing moved.

If you're ever not sure about anything in your life, if you ever feel uncertainty, creeping, like a cold-bellied snake up your back, Then you know, the dark doesn't usually make it better. I wanted to go back now. But there was something out there behind me. Man, to go home, I had to go past it. An animal, I told myself.

Surely an animal. There are coyotes in these woods, after all. But that silhouette had not been an animal, not animal shaped anyway. It had a human shape, maybe a little crooked, maybe a little stilted and leaning. but human, human-ish. Did I regret my choices? I was going home, just walk with purpose, just don't look. I swiveled my heel, listening to the leaves crunch in the too quiet air. My knees scuffed against each other, my breath plumed white. My hands were tight with shivers in their pockets, nothing but trees and rocks and fallen logs. An owl hooded, and I had to clap my frozen hands to

my chest to keep my heart from exploding out. After that though, it was better. I felt a little ridiculous, which made me both a little more warm and a little more confident. I walked faster down the hill, heels sliding on the damp moss and buried stones, slick as ice. Just about halfway down I stumbled, hit the dirt, elbows and knees catching me with bruises. Dang shoelace, I knew it had to be. The one on my right shoe always came undone, slithering out whenever I needed it to behave the most. Only, my shoe was still tied. There was just a hand around my ankle. No, I tried to scream, but it came out as a heavily garbled surprise instead.

It wasn't a hand. It was just a root, gnarled and weird. I felt back along my leg and tried to pry it off. wood that felt like freezing skin, knots and whirls that felt like knuckles. It was definitely a hand, hissing fear sharply through my teeth, my head and my heart both drumming. I yanked my leg toward my chest, not caring if I bled, not caring what I tore. I had to get out of here, but the hand held on.

I pulled my own hand away. It smeared with black, runny, with that heady, pungent, sharpy smell. I hate that smell. And that hand, I knew, I knew with every troubling cell, was the hand of the mannequin buried in the ground. And just as I thought, the hand began to drag. I slid back along the leaves, uphill, feet scrabbling,

for something to dig into. But everything was slick and soft and caving away. Stop, just stop! I think I was shouting. I'm not sure. My ears were ringing too loud, and my own voice sounded muffled, packaged and boxed,

like I was already underground, part of that not-human chain, reaching up, who knew how far through the layers of years and leaves. I reached out wildly, hands sliding through the leaves and dirt until I grabbed something. It might have been the same stick I found earlier.

I don't know. I just lifted it and started wailing it away at the thing that gripped me tight. Something cracked. A shot in the terrible quiet. My involuntary movement ceased. For a few seconds, I just sat there and breathed, and then carefully detached the hand from my leg.

When I lifted it to my eyes, just enough to see, the hand was just a root, snagly and twisted, but just a root, just wood. It had split seams from weather and water, and the lines of some inky black substance leaked out, carrying with it that faint but unmistakable sharpy smell. I lobbed the handroot away from me and staggered to my feet. It was hard to see in the swift fall of dark,

but just a few feet in the hill there were shouldery lumps, the form of a body reaching attached to another body and another, making a chain down the hill. But maybe it was just dark, and who would bury a mannequin in the woods? I went home, and threw out all the Sharpies in my house. I had recently moved to my childhood home,

which had been left as an inheritance by my now deceased mother. I was opposed to the idea of doing any renovations. However, I did purchase new furniture. In life, my mother enjoyed gardening a great deal. For her, it was a passion, not just a hobby. As I thought back, I felt nostalgic, envisioning her watering her flowers while telling me plants, just like people, needed care, compassion, and protection. In the backyard were these two sheribs, which I remember were a gift

given to my mom. They were not a yard decoration that I would have chosen, as I never was fond of sheriffs. I placed them inside a box to be donated to a local charity. The next day, after running errands, I dropped the two angels off at a local goodwill. I must confess, I was somewhat relieved about not seeing those two sheriffs. Later, during the night, I heard footsteps. However, it sounded like heavy thumps. I was about to step outside to investigate when the noise suddenly stopped. The next morning, when I awoke, I had a big surprise.

I walked into my garden. The two angels sat in my garden in the very same spot they were before, I removed them. I could not believe it. A few weeks later, a neighbor moved in across the street. I figured I'd introduce myself and talked to her. Then again, my true intention was to give these two angels as welcoming gifts. She was a sweet little old lady, and I thought she would use them in her garden. As I thought, she was delighted with the present, and I was just as delighted that she was, for they were no longer in my garden. The next day, my neighbor called me over to her property and said that thieves had stolen the angels from her yard.

She confided me that she heard footsteps around her backyard. She was not sure, but she was under the impression that there were two people in her yard. I offered my assistance and gave her my phone number if she ever needed help. As I walked back to my house, I thought, who would want to steal those? I almost fainted when I returned home. I was speechless as I approached my own yard. There, in my garden, the angels lay in the same spot I removed them. I did not know what to think anymore.

At this point, I even considered if my mind fell victim to cognitive distortion and fallacy. I was aghast and didn't dare to rid myself of the two angels again. I thought, how on earth did these two sheribs make it back home? Was I a victim of my overactive imagination? Either way, I decided it was best to leave them alone. The next few weeks were spent in painting, cleaning the driveway, and working around the house. In a way, I tried to keep myself busy to avoid thinking about the sheribs. Little by little, I somehow got confused to having them in my garden.

I placed some red mulch around my tree and sat the sheribs under the elms shade. One night, when the moon was full, I returned home early. from work, and something incredible happened. I was done cooking dinner and heard some ado in the back of my house. I panicked and called the local police. They told me to stay indoors and the officer would be heading my way. I continued to hear more noises and whispers in the back. It sounded like a male speaking in a very low voice. I grabbed my cat and held him against my chest, covered my mouth with my hand to keep myself from screaming. I was shaking and praying that the police would arrive quickly. I was alone and had no means to protect myself from trespassers. My cat kept on

hissing as the lock in my back door was twisting. The assailant started banging on my door. I started to sob while trying not to scream. Suddenly a moment of total silence ensued. I was breathing hard, wondering if the intruder was still out there. A loud male voice shattered the still. I heard a loud voice. What do you want from me, you two? Oh, Lord, please have mercy on me. I heard a thump and more screaming.

I later heard someone running away and screaming like a maniac. I rushed to the window and saw a figure of a man quickly disappearing into the darkness. The police arrived minutes later, and they took my statement. After searching the neighborhood, they found an old man who was speaking. of winged angels coming after him. The officer said the old man was running and gasping for air.

His face was pale and he could not speak coherently. He was apprehended without resistance. The officer has blamed his unusual story on alcohol present in his body. I must admit, I have never been a devoted Christian, but I believe there is a benign presence in my home. What scared that man out of his wits? I think I know, but choose not to be. to say. This house is hollow ground. It is my family's place. I am now a mother and I better understand my

mom. I was never superstitious, but now I do not disregard things that cannot be easily explained. I now live in a house with my young son. I do believe my mother left a guardian angels to watch over me and my child. I always had a dream of going to Paris, not to see the Eiffel Tower, the loo. The or any of the typical tourist hotspots, but actually to see the Paris catacombs. I had been urban exploring in abandoned buildings and cemeteries in my hometown in New Orleans since I was 10, and even traveled to a couple of other states just to document my findings. Normally, the scariest thing I would see would be a homeless person, or a creepy statue in a graveyard, nothing to feel that threatened by.

But in 2014, when my older sister, told me that she would be traveling to Europe for vacation over the summer. I begged to come along. I was 18 then, and desperate to get away from the humdrum of everyday life, and finally fulfill my childhood dream of going to the catacombs to explore. I had been planning it out for years. I would enter through the tunnel that I had seen YouTubers enter through online, bring a fishing reel with hundreds of yards of fishing line, and attach the end of the line to the entrance. I would let out slack, attached the reel from my backpack, and basically get lost. When I was done, I would simply reel my way back. It had made perfect sense to my narrow-minded teenage self. I wanted to go to

areas of the catacomb that people hadn't seen in hundreds of years. To go where no one else had been before was my dream as an urban explorer. And to me, there was nothing more exciting than going where you knew nobody else would be. There would be no more ruining the moment by bumping into a fellow explorer. So after weeks of convincing, my college-aged-aged sister agreed to take me with her. It took a lot of talking to get her to agree to bring her little brother along, but with the help of my parents, she decided she would make the best of it. First, we went to Dublin, then London, which to me was pretty boring, then across the English Channel to our first trip in mainland Europe, Paris. I tried to get her to come with me, but she'd,

She noped right out of it, insisting on seeing the beautiful city instead. And who could blame her? While she went to see the Eiffel Tower and all that other good stuff, I stayed in the hotel and waited for the evening when the weather cooled off a bit, and made my way to the entrance by myself, first by cab, then by foot. As I made my way towards the crevice that led into the infamous Paris catacombs, I felt eager, almost energized. I stood at the entrance and looked into the peasant.

pitch black and almost immediately crawled in. Once inside, I took the end of my fishing line and tied it to a big stone. No way I was getting lost. I turned on my dollar store LED flashlight. Cheap, right? Let out some reel and started my journey. At first, I snaked my way through what seemed like dozens of rooms, covered with graffiti and evidence of teenage parties that famously took place there. After what seemed like an hour of reading, what were most likely French curse words all over the cave system and ghoulish figures spray painted on the ancient walls. There seemed to be what I was looking for. On the other side of a large room I was entering, I could see a bare wall with no sign of human disturbance.

Great, I thought to myself. Now the work really begins. As I drew closer, there was a shallow tunnel to my left that seemed to go on for only 20 yards before a dead end. rubble strewn about. So, I looked to my right and saw a narrow tunnel leading directly away from the dusty room. It was so small that I would have to crouch just to walk through it, and somehow, no matter how much I shine my flashlight down it, I couldn't see anything in the darkness, a total absence of light. It was the first time I doubted the journey. Up until then, it seemed like fun in games, but now the feeling of aloneness dawned on me. If I was the first time I doubted

If I encountered trouble, there would be no one to help, but I felt drawn to complete my lifelong quest, and with a gulp, I cautiously made my way in. Within ten feet inside, I noticed the bottom of the medieval passage had begun to fill with water. At first, I thought my waterproof shoes would do the trick, but I soon found myself crouched over, drenched and drudging my way through the tunnel with the water to my knees. The tunnel aimed gradually downwards, even further into the underworld beneath the city of Paris. Too late to turn back now, though.

I kept going, and after a minute there was a fork in the passage. One got smaller, narrowing to four feet tall, and the other one got bigger. I'd say about seven, not too hard to guess which one I took. I heard that the catacombs originally served as a mining system in the Middle Ages, but as I made my way further, the place seemed anything but an innocent miner's workplace. After about a hundred feet further, the walls on either side widened into what seemed almost like a lobby, and small rooms lined either side of me. I was beginning to feel very uneasy at this point.

I had seemed so brave at the entrance to the teenage party's paradise just over an hour earlier, but now I could not help but feel, watched. I didn't want to know what was in these rooms. Though, I had a strong suspicion. My footsteps grew slower as they continued to kick up centuries-old dust. I knew I had to leave. I took the fishing reel I thought I brought with me into my hand and started to turn the crank, but there was no tension. After a couple of minutes of praying that the line would pull tight once again, the end of the line slipped through my hand. I took the flashlight and examined it. It looked gnawed through, like a dog had sharply chewed through it like a play toy. I'm screwed, I said to myself in desperation. All of the sudden,

I heard a splash from the way I entered. At first, I thought maybe a rock had fallen into the water. I waited and turned off my flashlight. Almost the second I turned off the flashlight, I heard what sounded like a sharp, clunky footsteps, furiously running at me, and I bolted to my left toward a network of increasingly smaller rooms. Each room I entered, I stabbed, I stabbed, I staggered over jagged items all over the floor. I have no clue how I didn't trip, especially with my flashlight still off, but I traversed my way into room after room. The pile of objects becoming more difficult to manage each time before a mountain of these things prevented me from going any further. In the pitch black, I could hear heavy, unnatural breathing about two rooms away.

I bit my tongue and begrudgingly took my flashlight out and hit the button. The four stood a pile of human bones, femurs, ribs, and all stuff you learned about in school, just stacked in front of me, like janga blocks. I looked to my right, and there was a three-foot-tall tunnel. I got on all fours and furiously crawled my way through the murky, foul-smelling water, flash-like clinched between my teeth. Finally, my stalker seemed to be gone. I couldn't hear anything anymore, but I knew I couldn't go back the way I came. I was going to have to find another way out, with hundreds of miles of tunnels and passageways running below Paris. I knew this was a tall task, but I was not about to be caught by an unknown creature. Sometimes the tunnel would open up

and I could walk. Other times it would narrow down again, and I would even have to crawl, laying on my belly just to make it through the other end. I was getting desperately lost. I was unable to remember which way I came, and the tunnels would often fork away and split, forcing me to make a gut instinct decision on which way to go. It was frigid now. My teeth clattered as I brought my soaking wet self slowly through the catacombs. Now feeling as though these were my last minutes on earth. My limbs felt as though they were made of lead. It's hard to believe that once was my dream had turned into a person's worst nightmare, lost underground in the world's biggest cemetery. But I dragged my beaten self through the maze for hours. My flashlight starting to flick

I would turn it off for minutes at a time to try to conserve the cheap, small battery inside, feeling my way through with my hands. I tried many times to see if I could get cell service, but of course, there was none. The last time I checked it, it set 4.17 a.m. I had started at around 9 o'clock. I decided it was over. I plopped down in the water, sitting criss-cross. I turned off the flashlight and closed my eyes.

In my mind, I said goodbye to everyone I knew, all my family members, friends, and even acquaintances. I decided to look at a picture of my family on my phone. I clicked it on and found the best picture of my parents, my sister and I, and stared at it. My sister was smiling in it, and I found my eyes welling up with tears. It made me feel worse that she would never know what happened, that her wonderful vacation would end up being a depressing disaster. My mind went quiet and my limbs went numb, and I accepted this was the end. How fitting for an urban explorer, right?

I just leaned back against the wall behind me. I heard a familiar splash from about 50 feet away. I jumped up, grabbed my flashlight, and ran away like the roadrunner from the cartoon. With no bones to trample on, I was running at what seemed like an Olympic runner's pace, and I felt hopeful as soon as those same clunky footsteps started to fade. I was starting to grin when, boom, I collided headfirst with a wall, dead end. Through my throbbing headache, I could hear the dreadful pitter-patter growing louder. Finally, it seemed to stop about ten feet away, and that horrid breathing echoed in the passage around me.

It stepped closer, and hands trembling, I decided to turn on the flashlight. If this was really the end, I was going to at least know what finished me off and take it like a man. It flicked on, and the sight before me nearly scared me to death, before it could even lay a finger on me. It was dark gray, withered, ancient, void of emotion. What I saw before me was a disgustingly hunched, yet still six-foot-tall skeleton, jawbone hanging down as though it was panting. Its empty sockets peered down at me, and though it had no eyes, I found myself in a staring contest with it. Soon, it started convulsing, and I could hear a small whimper emitting from its bones. It grew louder, into a chuckle, and finally, all out hysterical laughing.

The shriek echoing throughout the lonely catacombs, its bones shook and rattled with every painful laugh. It didn't seem to come from its mouth. Rather, it seemed to be vibrating from the skeleton itself. It sounded almost like a demonic joker, until it grew silent. It bent down from its already stooped position. Unnaturally long arms stretched towards me and sprinted at me at full speed. I was still collapsed on the ground with my throbbing head, and I did the only thing I knew to do. I leapt up, waited until it was a foot in front of me, and grabbed at its bony arm with my left hand.

flashlight dropping into the water, I immediately took my right fist and slammed it with as much might as my tired body had, straight into the skull. Screaming like a middle school girl, I closed my eyes and heard a big crack. I was prepared to be attacked back in revenge, but silence followed. I slowly reopened them and picked my flashlight back up and pointed it around, arriving at the ground below. The skeleton had lost all life. just a pile of bones, front first in the puddle by my feet. Its skull had been bent severely from

its neck, now almost perpendicular to the spine. Had I just killed a skeleton? What was it even doing alive to begin with? I stared down at my hand, which was surprisingly unharmed. What? I thought to myself in amazement. How did I not have a nasty gash where the aching knuckles made contact with bare bone? I decided to power walk away from the scene in case that thing could still come back to the afterlife and approach me again. I cautiously waited until I was about 40 paces away and turned back around with the light. It was gone. There was nothing in the water, not a single rib anywhere. If anything, it scared me even worse. I kept walking back the way I came.

All of the sudden, I felt my confidence returned to me, like how it was when I entered the catacombs several hours earlier, I felt strangely good, like something was urging me, telling me that I could find my way back. Deciding to attempt a miracle and retrace my steps, I conserved my flashlight as well as I could. And after more hours of dragging myself through tunnels, after a combination of walking, limping, and crawling, I started to recognize where I was. Before I knew it, I was slithering my way back through the muddy passage into the end of the rooms of bones. I turned on my flashlight to see the same pile from earlier and even had the gall to laugh at it. That's nothing compared to what I saw earlier, I thought to myself.

I made my way through the rooms, through the hall, and back through the pitch black tunnel into the large room. Now I looked at the far side and felt I won the lottery when I saw a crudely spray-painted SpongeBob on the wall. Civilization, kind of. I knew my flashlight was about to go off, but in its last moments of life, I somehow found the end of the fishing line. Of all things, it had gotten snagged and broken on a wooden chair that some person had brought to the room. I turned the light off and felt my way back to the entrance, only using my hands in the fishing line through pitch dark. Not going to lie, I tripped a couple times, and walked into a couple walls, but I wasn't about to let that stop me now. Before I knew it, I could hear and smell fresh air,

As I reached the end of the line, I looked up to see the tunnel entrance, and with the last of my strength, I lifted my cold, achy body through the crevice and into the entrance above. As I made my way into the morning light, I winced, my ears relishing in the sounds of the morning traffic and bustle of the city. I slowly walked through the streets of Paris back to the hotel. I had lost my phone in the process of being pursued, and couldn't order a cab to pick me up, but I was just happy to be alive at this point. When I finally got back to the hotel room, I knocked on the door. My sister opened it.

She had tears in her eyes, and she looked as though she had been crying the whole night. She instantly threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek, saying, I thought I'd never see you again. I was so worried. So, we ended up enjoying the rest of our European vacation, making sure not to lose sight of each other after that. I told her, and everyone else for that matter, that I had gotten lost, but I never mentioned the skeleton that attacked me. Sometimes I wonder if it was real. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me

in hysteria and tiredness. I don't know, and that's probably a good thing. My urban exploration days are over now, but this experience has always nagged at my conscience. I came here because of the memory and the whole ordeal just haunt me. Sometimes I wake up at night screaming, having nightmares about being lost underground or being chased once again. Maybe, by finally telling my story, I can finally put this whole thing to rest. The story I'm about to share is a very personal one. After my family being terrified for four years on a daily basis, my view on the afterlife has changed forever. For context, I'm female, age 23, Sam, my boyfriend, is 27, and our little boy Toby, is age 5, and we all live in the

Southwest UK. For a bit of backstory, five years ago, myself, Sam and Toby, who was three months old back then, moved into our first family home. Because of certain situations in 2014, we were kind of forced into taking this property. Now, this bill, building was decades old. Our landlord bought a huge Victorian house and converted each one of the three floors into units. While we lived in this property, there were no other tenants residing in the building at this time. To be honest, our unit was a little rough looking, but after a month of some serious TLC, our little place felt like a home. Now, on to the main story. After moving in, Sam wanted to buy a baby camera monitoring system.

Toby had been diagnosed with autism at three months old, due to being severely delayed in all developmental areas. Because of this, Toby never cried, and he didn't even cry when he was hungry in the middle of the night. After we bought it, we ended up hanging the camera right above Toby's cot, giving us a good view of his whole room. After a few weeks of settling in,

getting used to the house's sounds and Toby sleeping throughout the night, Sam felt comfortable with going back to work. After a long day of looking after Toby, doing chores around the house and doing some work, I was more than ready to have a peaceful night doing some R&R. Around 8 p.m., Sam had to leave for his night shift, and we set our goodbyes for the night, and he left. While on my own, I noticed how deathly quiet our home was, with Sam gone and Toby sleeping, the house's dynamic changed. It just felt off, but I just put it down to being in a new home and being left by myself for the first time. After looking up and checking if Toby was still sleeping, I took a deep breath and flopped on the sofa. It was around 10 p.m. when I checked

the monitor to see how Toby was doing. He was still sleeping soundly, so, smiling to my face, I went back to watching TV. No longer than an hour had passed, when in the corner of my eye I noticed the monitor lights flickering red and green, back and forth like a mini radar. I didn't hear any noise coming through, so I picked it up to get a better look. Everything seemed normal. After 20 seconds of staring at the uneventful screen, I went to put the monitor back down. While putting the monitor down, I was looking at the screen.

I noticed a perfectly shaped circle of light, no bigger than a tennis ball, floating around Toby's room. Amused, wondering what it was, I kept watching. It went over towards the built-in cupboard to the left, and back to Toby's cot in the middle of the room. I thought it was just a moth or a fly just buzzing around, so I put the monitor down and ignored it. Unbeknown to me, this was the start of our paranormal experiences. I do believe in the supernatural and have for many years. I always remember thinking what it would be like to actually live with a ghost.

I actually used to think that it would be fun, but never in my life did I expect it to be so terrifying. A few weeks went by, and Sam finally had a night off work, so we decided we should spend it snuggled up on the sofa, watching some movies while the little man was sleeping. We ended up watching How to Train Your Dragon 2, a guilty pleasure of mine. I was so engrossed in the film that I didn't hear Sam asking me a question. Finally, a nudge to the side caught my attention. What is that? Confused, I asked him,

What are you talking about? Looking over towards Sam, I notice he's holding the monitor. Look at the screen. So, peeling my eyes away from the TV, I looked at the screen and saw what Sam was on about. A large, human-shaped fog hovering over Toby's cot, feeling a little wary. We kept watching. The fog moved around slowly, bobbing up and down. Then suddenly, it leaned over to Toby, as if a person would.

Parental instincts kicked in. Sam and I sprang off the sofa. to check what it was. We opened Toby's bedroom door. His bedroom was freezing cold. I checked the window for a draft, but it was shut tight. We made sure Toby wasn't cold. He was warm underneath his blanket.

We had to put the heating on to warm up his room due to how frosty the air was. After fussing over Toby, we got comfy on the sofa again. Looking back at the monitor screen, the fog was gone. so we shrugged it off, putting it down to something on the camera lens. Around 1 a.m., we were both tired.

Picking up the monitor, we both headed off to bed. The next thing I know, the two of us were suddenly woken up. But by what exactly, we didn't know. Dazed and our hearts racing, I checked the time. 3.45 a.m. Then, a loud crackling sound bellowed through the monitor, Crapping ourselves, we glanced at the monitor and saw the same, dense, dark smog as before. In the space of a few seconds, the fog moved toward Toby's cot.

As it did, we both heard another loud crack. It sounded as if it were solid. Freaking out, we ran into Toby's room. Toby was awake and visibly stressed. I swept him up into my arms, letting him know we were there, while Sam was inspecting the bedroom. trying to figure out what the cracking sound was, and where on earth this fog was coming from. There wasn't anything in Toby's room that could have possibly made the dense fog that we saw on the camera.

No dust, cobwebs. The camera lens was clean, and the window was shut, so there wasn't a draft to blow anything around. Feeding Toby a bottle and making sure he was clean, I rocked him in my arms and sang him to sleep. Sam wanted Toby to spend the night in our bedroom. So after moving the rooms around to fit Toby's cot, it was now 5.30 a.m. We quickly passed out in bed after the night's events. Four months went by, and those weird occurrences happened every other night. Each episode getting progressively worse, Sam and I was thinking that this could be paranormal,

but didn't want to say anything to one another. It sounds bizarre if you're not the one guy. going through it. Days passed and we eventually sat down and talked it out. We spoke about getting a paranormal investigator to check things out, but decided not to, because the ones in our area seemed to be scammers, so Sam and I made up our minds and to just deal with whatever was in our home until we had the funds to move out. A few months had passed and we are getting ready for Christmas. Toby is still very physically delayed. He was almost two years old, but unable to sit up on his own. So we focused on Toby's speech. He could say small,

generic words like, hello, mom, or dad. It was the middle of the day, and I was spending time with Toby. I had him propped up on my knee, bouncing him up and down and singing him nursery rhymes. Out of nowhere, Toby's eyes fixated on something behind me. He stopped singing and abruptly said, hello. It caught me off guard. Usually we had to encourage Toby to speak, thinking it was Sam. I turned around. Nobody was there. Hello, he said again, even doing a waving gesture. Now feeling uneasy, I asked Toby who he was talking to. A quiet few seconds later, Toby looked back at me, wanting to sing again. Things happened every single day.

Whether it was something small or big, it was still scary. With Sam working during the nights, being left alone with the paranormal experiences, really made me anxious. Sam and I almost always felt like someone was behind us. No matter where you were in the house, the feeling of something peering over your shoulder

or standing right behind you, never went away. we would always notice a tall figure in our peripheral vision, for it to just disappear when trying to see it. One morning, I remember being gradually woken up by this itching noise. I sat up to listen where it was coming from. I got up quietly and tiptoed around my room. I ended up standing next to the bedroom door.

Everything went silent. Then I heard a ferocious scratching on the other side of the door just below the handle, as if something was trying to get in. I leapt back and scrambled onto my bed. It sounded like sharp nails. The sound went faster and faster. Then nothing but silence. This morning event would occur three times throughout each week of being there.

It would happen so often that I got used to it. I would still be frightened, but ended up staying firmly wrapped in my duvet on my bed and waiting for the scratching to be over. If the scratching wasn't bad enough, I would hear heavy footsteps walking up and down the hallway. The floorboards would creak and groan under pressure. At first, I thought it was Sam because the footsteps would creep up and down the hallway,

thumble around in one spot, go into the bedroom and turn on the light. Our bedroom has a pull cord for the light switch. When pulled, the light and bathroom AC would switch on at the same time. creating a buzzing sound due to the fan being so old. I only realized it wasn't him when he came home at 7.30 a.m., looking really tired. So, after getting really confused, I asked him, Where have you been?

I already heard you come in because you left the light on in the bathroom. Sam looked at me as if I was crazy. It wasn't me. I have just finished work. After the new year, we installed security to the inside and outside. side of our home. At the end of each week, we would review the footage. If there wasn't anything to report, then we would delete the tape. Being curious, I would watch our in-home footage to see if anything would appear on the camera while we were out of the house. And there was a black fog that roamed around our home. It moved around like it lived there, going from room to room,

fading, in and out. It was even appearing while we were there. We didn't know. We didn't know. I was terrified. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. While we were asleep, Toby's toys would be set off throughout the night. His football would roll across the floor, then halt to a stop. The TV would flick on and off, and the lights in the other rooms would be switched on. We used to take so many photos of Toby while in the unit, but soon decided to stop because of the orbs and the dark figure that would appear on screen. Every time we spoke out loud about the experiences we had, more serious things would happen.

The worst thing that I remember from our time there is hearing Toby scream out loud, absolutely terrified. Toby had never cried up until this night. I still, to this day, feel so guilty. Toby still couldn't walk and was barely crawling around. We were asleep in bed, and we were suddenly awoken to hear Toby screaming his poor lungs out. Terrified myself and Sam sprinted into his room. All I remember seeing is, Toby sitting up in the corner of his bed,

just absolutely screeching. He was pointing, and his eyes was pinned over to the corner of his room, absolutely terrified. Sam and I couldn't see anything. I went to go pick Toby up and give him some reassurance, and he pressed his face into my arm, really not wanting to look back at the corner of his room.

As Sam walked over to see if anything, was there. Toby screeched again, pointing toward his bed. I have never seen that look of fear in his eyes before that night. He was an absolute panic from what he was seeing. After calming him down in our bedroom, I felt terrible for our little man. He wasn't able to run away because he was so delayed, so he was forced to sit there in fear, in fear of something that actually made him cry for the first time in his life. The guilt I felt for him breaks my heart. Just imagine being pinned down to a chair, not being able to get away from your worst nightmare. After this, I really had enough.

I moved Toby into our room with us. I was tired of him being harassed by this monster that we couldn't even see. Even with Toby in our room, we could still hear things moving around his bedroom. The cupboard door would creak open and shut. The lights would flick on and off, and Toby's toys would start randomly talking in the middle of the night. To stop this, I made sure all of the batteries and every single one of the toys would be taken out. I bagged up all of the balls from his ball pit and made sure the footballs were in boxes and finally put the chest of drawers in front of the cupboard. I did this every night.

The nights I forgot, we would be awoken up to hear all the commotion going on in Toby's room again. After a few nights with Toby in our room and the toys being bagged up, We actually were able to sleep for about one week, every night. I thought things were finally getting better. Toby's grandmother wanted to spend some time with him, so we arranged for him to stay the night at her house, and then pick him up after lunch the next day. Getting back from dropping Toby off,

I wanted to have a long shower while Sam was messing with his car. I had my phone playing music quietly. My shower was relaxing at first. when I heard a faint tapping, then crash. I turned the shower off because I just wanted to get out of there. Slowly, I peeked around the shower curtain. Everything that was in our mirror cabinet was on the floor everywhere. The door was wide opened.

It looked like someone stuck their hand in the cupboard and just wiped everything off the shelves onto the floor. Spooked, I hurried and got dressed and got out of there. I wrapped my hair in a towel and ran to get Sam. When he came back in to check out the mess, he was angry. He told me to get sorted out and he would clean up. I hugged him and said thank you. Later in the afternoon, we decided to go out for dinner.

We actually had a lovely time, able to properly relax and enjoy the peace. We love Toby dearly, but having some time to ourselves knowing he was in safe hands was really nice. It was a shame that our lovely evening shattered, as soon as we were. we got home. Unlocking the door, we immediately noticed a heavy burning smell. Our oven was switched on. Every single one of the cooker hobbs was turned to six, and the door was open with heat bailing out. Thankfully, it was electric because the house would have exploded. Running over, I flipped off the main switch. Sam made sure that nothing was near the oven had melted. It was so hot in our kitchen that we ended up opening the windows to let the heat out. Nothing was damaged, safety restored.

The cooker switch is really hard to push down, so I usually just turned off the cooker instead. But after this, I made sure I pushed it off when I was finished using the cooker. Sam and I were going to have a relaxing night together. But after all this, and Toby, being at his grandmas, we came to the agreement that we both were too tired. So Sam strolled off. to bed and I stayed up binging on missed TV shows. It was just after 2 a.m. when I heard Sam make a noise. Wrapped in the quilt, he waddled out with the color drained from his face. I asked him if he was okay and he replied, the bed started shaking. I couldn't sleep. It felt like someone was watching me. So I pulled the quilt over my head and laid there with my eyes shut. Then the bed started shaking.

It was as if someone put both hands on the mattress and was pushing on it. I got so annoyed that I kicked my leg out, and it stopped. But it felt like someone sat down on the bed right next to me. I thought screw it and rushed out here. I'm not sleeping in there again tonight. So after a night on the sofa, we ate some breakfast and went to go get Toby. We had mentioned some things to Sam's mom before about the ghost. But when we mentioned the cooker and the bed-shaking incident,

She looked worried. She said to not speak to it and open up the windows during the day to refresh the energy in our house. Sam was getting angry, and understandably so. We were always getting woken up. Toby was getting harassed while sleeping. Things would go missing, and we would end up with scratches during the day in odd places. After another night of no sleep, Sam, after three years of being stressed, had hit his breaking point. He should have shown. He should. shouted out loud, leave my family alone, and get out of my house. I took Toby into the kitchen while Sam was shouting, so Toby wasn't frightened. Two minutes later, Sam came walking through the archway into our kitchen, and out of nowhere, I see something red and hear the sound of impact. A can of air freshener was launched at the back of Sam's head. It flew so fast, and it was clearly thrown with force. After this, even more things started to happen on a day of the day.

basis, doors would slam shut, Toby's toys would be broken from being tossed about, and we ended up hearing strange noises that wasn't human in the middle of the night. We decided that we had to leave our unit. We were tired, stressed, and always on edge when being at home. With the last six months of staying at the place, I actually come face to face with our visitor. It was after 5 p.m., because Toby had just eaten our dinner, and I started cleaning up while Sam, was taking care of Toby. In the kitchen, we had an old boiler cupboard that was built in next to the sink. The doors to the boiler didn't have a clasp to keep it shut, but it would jam close because of the paintwork on the door. There I was, doing the dishes when I heard the all

too familiar sound of the sticking doors being opened. I looked over, and there it was, a huge, totally pitch-black figure with no face, peeking out of the cupboard. It was leaning to one side with its opaque hand wrapped around the door. The intense feeling of this thing glaring at me chilled me to my core. It was pitch black. I froze. I never knew what Toby was seeing up until now. Dropping the dishes where I stood.

I ran past the figure to go find Sam. I screamed while running. It was there. I just seen that thing. Sam said my face was gray in color and comforted me until I was able to breathe. again. Sam got a lock for the boiler door the next day, so it wouldn't open up unless you had the key. I still remember very clearly the day I finally called it quits in that house. It was around summertime, because at 5 a.m., the mornings were bright outside.

I actually fell asleep on the sofa. After months of needing sleep, I just passed out. I was awoken up gradually because I could hear an alarm going off, remembering what the beeping actually was. I bent down and grabbed the baby monitor. It was disconnected. The alarm was letting me know the camera was turned off in Toby's room. I thought the power had gone, but soon realized it wasn't after noticing the front room light was on. Walking into Toby's bedroom, I was just confused. Toby was fine, still sleeping peacefully, so I unhooked the camera above Toby's bed and fiddled around with the buttons. I was still in a sleepy state. and couldn't for the life of me figure out why it disconnected,

and couldn't figure out for the life of me why it was disconnected. Then I followed the cable, feeling for any breaks with my fingers, all the way down to the plug. The outlet was switched on, but I put my hand out to the plug of the camera, and it was hot. Turning the light on and wrapping my hand in my jumper sleeve, I yanked it out. It was burnt.

The strange thing was, though, The actual outlet itself was fine. It was still bright white, but the plug was burnt and some of the wall black from heat. But there wasn't any fire. There was no electrical smell either. I was awake now and shaken up. If the monitor had not started beeping and woken me up, how far would this burning go? It was right next to Toby's bed. Waking up Toby, I picked him up and went into our room to wake Sam. He couldn't believe it either. So he called his mom and just told her everything. 30 minutes later, we packed up what we needed and left. We didn't spend another night sleeping in that unit again.

After getting settled at Sam's mom's house, we called the landlord and broke our lease, losing out on our $650 deposit. Sam and I returned to the unit a few more times to grab our stuff. We left Toby with his grandma, so it would be faster. Upon returning, the unit just felt off. There was this really hateful aura about the place. Every move you made, it felt like someone was behind you, and they were really angry.

Going into Toby's room was worse. As soon as you stepped a foot past the doorway, you felt like your life was in danger. We couldn't stay in there long, because you would start getting dizzy and shaky. And when you would walk out, your whole body would be buzzing like static was running through your veins. Since moving out of there, our lives have gotten back on track. Our moods have improved, and we can finally sleep in peace. Toby is still delayed, but is improving massively. He can now walk, but with a little limp, and can speak really well. I'm glad to be out of that place. And grateful Toby won't remember any of the trauma he endured while being there as he gets older,

and I am so grateful for Sam's mom for letting the three of us stay at hers, and tell him. we get up on our feet again. The message that I learned from all of this, I will never think that living with a ghost is fun, nor will I ever underestimate the power of the supernatural. This episode is brought to you by Netflix's remarkably bright creatures. What if a Pacific octopus held the key to a mystery that could heal your heart? Well, that's Tova's reality.

An elderly widow working at an aquarium. Tova forms an unlikely friendship with their crumudgeonly, Marcellus, whose remarkable intelligence leads her to a life-changing discovery. Watch remarkably bright creatures with your remarkable moms this Mother's Day weekend, only on Netflix May 8th. I am a Native American in the eastern part of the United States. This happened while I was in a reservation in the beginning of winter. I was visiting family for a three-day vacation, and my family is very cultural.

My cousins and I had to sleep in the tent outside. This will be very important later in the story. Once it was around maybe 5 p.m., it was dark outside. My mom, stepdad, and brother were going back home while I stayed. My brother had been very jealous that he could not go, through a fit, and ran inside. My aunt's house is very small, with a big property. But there was an old car, large truck, and her car outside in the driveway next to her house. I don't know if my brother had actually seen something, but...

Later, he ran inside crying. We tried to ask him why, but he wouldn't answer. Later, my mom and stepdad took him and left. I laid down in the tent with my older cousin. He's a few months older than me. My little cousin was in there too, along with his dog. His dog isn't big at all, maybe 20 pounds, and very old. So, he wouldn't really do anything to help in a situation.

While we were on our phones and playing, we grew tired. I was the only one awake at this point before realizing I had to go. I slowly got out of the tent with the dog trailing behind me. At this time, I was really small and barely making it to 5'8. I went to the tree by my tent before I saw it. It was a large man with his back facing towards me. He was very thin and tall. The tallest I could say he was is maybe seven feet at the same.

the most. He slowly turned as I approached thinking it was my cousin. Since he was very tall and I could only see the shoulders, I froze once it turned towards me. My cousin's dog was going crazy at this point, barking and growling at the being. I was just staring up at its cold and dog-like eyes. My mind went blank as I stared at it. We weren't even near the house. The tent had to be maybe a 10-minute walk from the road and a 20-minute walk from the house, and all I could think of to do was run. While I was running and had the dog, this thing was running in front of me. It suddenly stopped and jerked its head. I heard the sickening cracks of bones as it seemed to shrink into a coyote. The eyes shone as I turned to run back to the tent. It chased after me,

as I was never the athletic type. Suddenly, I just stopped and turned to face the thing. It stared back as I just let out a growl. I never knew I could do. The thing just stared at me, just standing there as I yelled at it to go away. It just sat there until it ran off. I was so confused, just sitting there until I ran back to my tent and sighed. I questioned if it was the thing that my brother had seen. This was a sleepless night and I stayed up until my cousins awoke. I had told them everything, but they brushed it off. Everyone seemed to have taken it as a joke until my aunt called my mom and sent me back home, in fear it would come back. But no, she never saw or heard anything. Neither have I. I am currently living farther away from that place, but I lived

with my uncle when I was closer. I now live with my mom. I still don't know if this thing is looking for me, but I don't want to see it again. I was a kid, before they put in the Cumberland Gap tunnel, there was a horrible winding road that went over the mountains from Kentucky into Tennessee, pretty much a straight shot through the Cumberland Gap National Historic Park. I can barely remember it because I was so young when the tunnel officially opened. Six or seven, I forget. But there's one stretch of the old road that my brain won't let me forget, overshadowed by the trees, and built it. And built it into the jut of a rock that caused a kink in the road. There was a door, a normal, average,

you'd see it on a house door with a little brass knob. It always irked me, because I was, and still am, very much the type of person who doesn't like to not know things. And that door became a mystery to end all mysteries. One of the most vivid memories I have about it is the first time I asked exactly what it was and where it went to, sitting in the backseat of my mom's car, while stuck in standstill traffic, while mom was more concerned about the bumper-to-bumper crunch of cars that couldn't get past the wreck up the way,

I was tiredly asking about the door, repeatedly, like her initial answer of, I don't know, didn't count. Other people thought they knew. Everyone had an idea or a theory, or they heard somebody talk about knowing somebody, who knew somebody who'd been in there. I heard a dozen different stories from a dozen different people over the course of my childhood. It was where they hid munitions for World War II. It was where soldiers hid during the Revolutionary War.

It was where bootlakers had once hit their stash. It was where Native Americans had lived before they were driven out of the area. It was an entrance into a cave system that was in the park, or where they kept controls for things like lights and cameras. I personally liked my own theory that there were Neanderthals inside who stayed up late making cave paintings of horses, which made as much sense as anything else anyone told me. In time, though, the tunnel was finished and the old road was destroyed. The door was forgotten, like so many other childhood memories, and I became convinced that I dreamt up the whole thing.

It happens. Kids having vivid imaginations and false memories are pretty common. That was until my best friend decided we were going to have a day of fun at the park. Kayla was my polar opposite, the definition of an early 2000's popular preteen girl. She liked makeup, boys, and Britney Spears, and wasn't much of an outdoorsy type. Doorsy type. Meanwhile, I was obsessed with Digimon and Dirt. We were an unlikely duo whose

childhood was spent compromising in weird ways, and the trip to the park was her way of making it up to me for a marathon of teen chick flicks. She knew I wasn't thrilled about Mary Kate and Ashley, so she'd take the drive and go catch tadpoles with me as sort of a concession. It was a double concession since, having hit the age where looks, friends, and social etiquette suddenly began to matter, it was pretty obvious that she was becoming more and more hesitant to be seen in public with me. This was probably the reason why, when we got to the park, she specifically asked to be dropped off at the not-so-popular entrance to the trail. Rather than my favorite starting point on the Iron Furnace Trail, there was less of a chance that one of her crushes or school buddies

would catch wind of us. Not that they'd be hanging out in the woods anyway. Her grandpa wasn't the keenest on this since he didn't like the idea of us being so far away from people, but she managed to convince him by citing that civilization was literally down the hill from us if something happened. A big hill, sure, but you could technically see the roofs of the houses from the road just off of the parking lot. It was close enough. He hesitantly aggrimely. agreed and drove away with a sigh, leaving us standing there with a couple of jars for tadpoles and some well wishes. No sooner than his car disappeared back onto the road did Kayla turn to me, sigh, and say, what are we doing now? I had some ideas. I wasn't as familiar with this stretch of

trail, then the tried and true route of the iron furnace, but I imagined myself as some kind of intrepid explorer and figured that, so long we stayed on the path, there wasn't anything that could go wrong. I also decided against heading in the direction that would have likely led me to familiar territory, based solely on the fact that I'd never been in the opposite direction, and was curious what I'd find. I didn't say anything about this, of course, and just let Kayla think I knew where I was going, since she didn't seem to invest it in our adventure, or concerned about where we ended up. So, off we went. I think it was about 15 minutes in that Kayla started to get the case of hebi-jeebies. The woods were denser on the mystery trail I decided

to take, and, even in the bright spring sun, everything was dark and dreary if you looked up. It was almost like walking in twilight. You could only barely make out the blue sky if the wind caught the trees in just the right way. She nervously tapped her nails together and shuffled after me, biting her lip occasionally, saying something snarky to mask the fact that she was terrified of every creek, crunch, and crash we heard. I was oblivious.

I was just excited about a chipmunk I saw. 30 minutes in, and I started to get braver, while Kayla sat on the benches pockmarking the trail. I'd leave our jars with her and merrily go skipping off the beaten path. She'd nervously watch as I disappeared into the shrubs to look for anything interesting, bird feathers, snail shells, cool rocks, and other things that I wasn't legally allowed to take, but would stuff in my pockets anyway. With every new venture into the woods, I gained more and more confidence

and would venture further and further out. If I got too far, Kayla would yell to you. for me, insults, usually about how I was a loser, I was crazy. She hated this, and she wanted to go home. I'd usually follow the sound back to where I began, and, given how far I was wandering, sometimes the sound of her voice was the only thing that guided me safely. It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked, and it worked right up until it didn't. To this day, I don't know what it was. Did Kayla stop calling because she was mad at me?

Did I mozy too far out to hear her? Was something else at play? I just know that at an interesting bend in the trail, I dropped off my jars and treasures with Kayla, pressed out into the bushes, and began to walk downhill, further and further into the woods in search of interesting things. Part of me knew I was going too far,

but I felt this strange compulsion to keep going, like something was calling me from farther ahead. So, ahead I went, like an idiot, stumbling over rocks and getting slapped in the face with branches. When I hit the bottom of the hill, I realized I was standing at the top of a sharp drop down, a rocky jut about the height of a single-story house that was shrouded in darkness from the sheer volume of the surrounding trees.

If I squinted, though, I could make out what rested at the bottom of the fall, and my eyes widened when I saw a fading yellow dashes and darkened asphalt. It was a road, not just any road, but a pretty pristine road, that, aside from some cracks in the cement, was still completely drivable, but only for a stretch. I awkwardly climbed down the rocky drop to investigate, and you could only walk along it for about the length of a football field before it gave way to greenery on the other side. It was just some bizarre slice of modern age plopped right in the middle of the mountains,

somehow immune to nature and time. I marveled for a bit before I finally saw the glint of something metallic in the fleeting moment of the sunlight. In a typical dumb kid fashion, my magpie brain took over, and off I went to see what it was that was so shiny. Imagine my surprise when I realized that some yards away, that it was a doorknob. just like the one you'd find on a door in your house. Apparently, by some fluke, I'd come out on top of the mystery door from my childhood.

I hadn't even noticed it while climbing down the road, even though it'd been right next to me while I scaled slash fell down the rocks. My anxiety spiked as I stared it down. Even with my limited knowledge of direction, I knew I should not have been anywhere near this part of the park. I hadn't been on the Cumberland Gap Road since I was very young, but my gut told me that this should have been miles away from where we started, and definitely too far for a girl to walk on her own in an afternoon.

I stood and stared at the door for a good long while before I decided that I'd had enough adventuring for the day. Despite the childhood curiosity I had about what was inside, the whole situation reeked of fish and my stomach turned at the thought of trying to open it. Inhaling deeply, I opted instead to scramble back from where I came and play Marco Polo with myself until I heard Kayla respond. If I had it directly left of the outcropping over the door and just walk straight, then I was bound to find my way back.

Knock, knock, knock. My thoughts froze no sooner than I found a foothold in the stone. Three slow, steady knocks thundered on the other side of the door. My heart found its way to my throat, but my eyes couldn't find their way to the door. My brain was torn as to whether I should look or not. Tap. Knock. Knock.

Knock. Like a song. Or I'm going to feel dumb admitting this. The telegraph scene from Balto. I know it sounds absolutely stupid. As a kid, that was the only real exposure to the idea of Morse Code or anything similar. In a moment of panic, I stood there, frozen, trying to see if my exposure to a 90s cartoon movie had turned me into an expert.

Heck, I didn't even know if it was Morse Code. The more I stood there, the more it started sounding like someone was just trying to get out of a room after they'd locked themselves in. Knock. Tap. I stumbled at the force of the knock and let out a yelp. Everything fell silent, even the birds and the trees. Frozen on the road, in the middle of the woods, I gawked at the door.

Tears began to well in my eyes. This was some scary stories to tell in the dark crap, and I wasn't having it. Hello. A voice, small and familiar, warbled from the other side. Rapid tapping accompanied it. like dog claws scratching across a linoleum floor. Standing up and brushing myself off, I started trying to clamber up the rocks again.

Hello, Aaron. The voice knew my name, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, that the reason it sounded familiar is that it sounded like Kayla. The cadence was all wrong, though, like listening to a parrot talk. The door, or whatever was on the other side,

mastered the sound, but not the method. Aaron, where did you go? You went so far. I looked for you. Foothold found. I hoisted myself up, using the tree roots and rocks and anything that would support my weight. A part of me was hurt to leave Kayla behind,

but I couldn't get over the weird rhythm of its speech. Besides, there was no way she could have gotten ahead of me, right? There's no way she'd even come out into the, the woods, right? She was scared of the actual trail, let alone the wilderness beyond it. Erin, you left. You went so far. Aaron, where did you go? Aaron, I'm scared. It's dark. Aaron. I hit the top of the incline and pulled myself up, panting and dirty with sore palms and mud in my mouth. Every muscle in my body trembled from a mixture of exhaustion and fear. and I lingered a bit too long, overlooking the door.

It took a moment for me to realize the door had stopped talking, and it took me an even longer moment to realize the tapping had stopped. However, it took me no time at all to realize that the sound of the creaking hinges was probably a bad sign. Air in. Are you there? Erin. The voice was clearer now. When I squinted down onto the dark road, I saw the vagus hint of a sense. silhouette, slinking out of a crack behind the door. It was humanoid, I guess, but not human. There were too many odd angles and thin extremities for it to count as human. Granted, I also didn't take too much

time to try to figure out what it was, since I'd seen enough horror movies to know that she who gocks the longest dies first. I did catch a glimpse of it, whipping around to look at me. oversized eyes watching as I vanished into the woods, first quietly, and then with increasing volume as I heard it, scampering after me. Screeching like a banshee, I ripped through the underbrush and screamed Kayla's name at the top of my lungs. I waited for her to yell back at me, but I only heard her voice coming from behind me, desperate and broken. Aaron, it's dark. I'm scared. Aaron, you went so far. I can't see you. Want to go home? Aaron. My lungs burned as I pushed myself uphill, faster and harder than any kid should ever have to go. My heart thumped against my eardrums,

and my legs felt like jelly underneath me. Every time I stumbled, I imagined that thing gaining on me, and barely stopped to gauge how hurt I was before scrabbling off again. Sometimes I made it a good ways on all fours, hunched over, trying to use my arms to pull myself ahead with my legs threatening to give out. And the whole time, the chorus of, Aaron, Aaron, chimed behind me, besides me, above me. I kept screaming out for Kayla, hoping that she'd hear my panic and answer back. In my heart, I knew I could tell the difference between her and that thing, since she'd actually sound. like a human being. At least that's what I told myself as I recklessly tore my way ahead. As I crested the hill, I found myself going downhill again, and I like gravity carry me the rest

of the way. The voice behind me became more distant, the faster I moved, quieter and quieter, as if it was fading from existence itself, and I thought I would too, when my feet finally went completely numb, and I fell hard over a tree root. I felt my nose pop and the world's spin as I tumbled down, finally coming to rest with a grunt on soft dirt that was strangely devoid of leaves. I opened one eye and saw the edge of a wooden bench. On the top of it was a couple of jars of snail shellshells and bird feathers. Standing next to it, staring at me in horror, was Kayla.

She immediately fell down next to me in a fury of, are you okay? I was pretty sure God had. had abandoned me and I was far from okay, so I numbly stared at her until I realized I hadn't broken any bones and could probably get up. She shakily hoisted me to my feet and began to fuss over my nose. It was bloody. My clothes, they were a mess, and my hair, it was full of leaves. She pointed at fresh bruises and cuts and asked what I'd done, and I was too shell-shocked to answer. Aside from some paranoid glances over my shoulder. Wow, Aaron, you went so far out, and I couldn't see you anymore.

It was dark. I was scared. I must have been yelling for you this whole time. How did you end up coming from uphill? Are you okay? I wanted to look for you, but what if we both got lost? I just want to go home. This is stupid.

We left the jars. She led the way back. The half-hour hike felt like an eternity. But not nearly as long as the amount of time we sat on the benches in the parking lot, waiting for our ride to come get us. We didn't really talk. If we did, I don't remember what was said. I could easily imagine her ranting to the side of my head,

out of worry and anger, because that's how she was, and it would have been completely justified. But my mind was too fixated on the door. The thing. My pulse. How much I didn't want to sit with my back to the wood. but at the same time I didn't want to worry Kayla by making her think there was something

more wrong than I'm an idiot who fell down a hill I just stared ahead until I saw her grandpa pull up of course he wasn't happy with either of us we should have taken the iron furnace trail I shouldn't have gone wandering into the woods my mom was going to get him for not watching us I ignored most of it because I had more important things to worry about, and it was a relatively quiet ride back home. But right as I got out of the car, right in front of my house, Kayla grabbed my wrist to keep me from wandering too far, out of earshot of her grandpa, whispering like a town gossip, she asked me why I'd been messing with her while I was in the woods. I told her I hadn't. Her face went pale. Oh, she said,

because it sounded like you, sort of. She was saying she had something neat to show me down the hill. She said she found a door in the mountain. I used to live in the outbacks in Cecilia, Kentucky. There's a lot of woods around and many wild animals, which gives me a pretty good feeling every day. Well, almost every day. Before I get into it, let me give you some pointers of my property

so you can better understand this situation. Where I live is rather secluded. The closest town is a good 30-minute drive away, making my old bus rides over an hour long in the mornings, and our neighboring houses are rather spaced out. The property is pretty nice, considering we built the house ourselves. We have a small garden, a chicken coop area, rabbit hutches, and a pig pen. My family's two dogs protected these animals, while mine stayed with the pigs since one of them was pregnant at the time. We only have about six acres of backwoods land before we reach

a no-hunting, private property sign with barbed wire fencing. Though it does no good, as I later found out, a tree had fallen and broken part of it. Now, although we hear coyotes all the time, we never actually see signs of them. Just raccoons, rabbits, squirrels, and possum prints, and a lot of deer tracks. Going out there during late fall, all winter, and beginning of spring, was something I genuinely enjoyed doing, though my family had restrictions, as I wasn't allowed out there at night time. Now, while most would find it disturbing maybe, whenever an animal of ours died, I was required to take it out back and dump it near the fence to make sure no predators got too close to our property. The walk through the woods was usually fun, but I sometimes...

feel like I was being watched. Of course, Karma, my male German shepherd mix, was always with me whenever I did the task. I never had him on a leash, something I deeply regret after that night. I brought him because I trust his senses more than my own. Whenever I get a sense I'm being watched, karma would just stop walking. When I see the fur on his back rise, I'll toss the animal as far as possible and head back home. Can never be too careful. Now that I have explained some things, I'll get on to the point of the story. One of our prize roosters had died suddenly, and we hadn't noticed it in the chicken coop floor until it was time to put the chickens up for the night.

When my older brother opened the back, we saw it. We assumed this explained why Cookie, one of my family's Pyrenees dogs, was acting odd. Even though it was around 7 p.m., and I didn't want to go into the woods since it was still early fall, which meant big spider webs still. My mother demanded that I go take it out to where it's supposed to go. I got on my boots and sweater to prevent mosquito bites and headed out to get my dog. His pen with the pigs was only a few feet away from my back steps, so it was really easy to get him if there was an emergency, like our neighbor's dogs chasing our cats.

Once I opened the pen, he shot out. I decided to run around as I held the Walmart bag with the dead rooster inside. Making my way to the woods, he knew where we were going, and followed quickly at my side before getting in front of me. He did that often, going off and stopping to wait for me. As a 17-year-old, with no friends, besides internet ones, I found this to be rather sweet of him, and would smile at the fact that he'd wait, as if he didn't want me to be left alone. I'm on my way, I chuckled, as I saw him standing at the bottom of the small hill, just staring at me in anticipation.

Once down, I kept walking, keeping an eye on him. Once I got closer to the drop-off area, I noticed that he was straying farther and farther away and wasn't stopping. So I let out a high-pitched whistle sound. Usually, he comes when I whistle, but this time, he didn't. He raised his head up, ears purported. up and his attention was elsewhere. The fur on his back had raised slightly. Before I had the chance to yell no, he bolted. He was never really a barker, unless a stranger was in our yard,

or our neighbor's dogs ran over. So it surprised me when he barked before suddenly taking off into the woods. It was then I noticed the tree had fallen, when he jumped onto the tree and over the fence onto private property, chasing whatever he had seen. Karma! Karma! Karma! No. I yelled as I dropped the bag and chased after him, only stopping when I reached the fence, but he was nowhere to be seen, and his barking stopped. This scared me as it was getting dark out, and the day animals were falling silent, being replaced by crickets and frogs. I knew I wasn't allowed on the private property, so I stood at the fence and repeatedly called for him. Here, boy, I called out, feeling frustrated.

come here now come back i yelled and hopes he would return as tears began forming in my eyes only for him not to return i'm naturally a rational thinker and assumed he had gotten too far away to hear me so i bolted back towards home feeling out of breath by the time i got to the small but steep hill mother i called as i rushed inside he took off and i don't know where he is he jumped the fence back there I told you to keep a leash on him when you're out there. She yelled as she got ready to help me find him, only to see the sun was basically down. It sets in our backyard,

meaning it would be dark in the woods, since the trees would be blocking the sun. I'm sure he'll come back, she assured me, while looking out the back door. Since it was too dark out back, I decided to walk down the street and call for him. My neighbor had noticed and asked if I was looking for someone. So I told him my dog had ran off into the woods.

He nodded and seemed to glance around before disappearing in his backyard. I wasn't really sure if he was going to keep an eye out or not. It had been about two hours since he ran off, and he still wasn't back. I mentally cursed myself for not having him on a leash as I went outside to feed the livestock dogs. When scooping their food, I thought I heard a high-pitched whistle. My mind was too focused on the fact that karma was still missing to really think about it as I walked around to the backyard. When I got to Cookie, I heard the faint sound of what sounded like someone in our backyard saying, Here, boy.

Very quietly, like he was far away or something. I glanced over, but saw nothing besides what the moon showed. Our back porch light wasn't working currently, so it wasn't much I could see. We had just got new wood siding up in the backyard, so we had to remove the light. Deciding to ignore it, I walked over to Sarge and gave her her food, when I heard it again. Only, it was louder this time. I looked over to the woods again, feeling uneasy before heading inside. I had two thoughts running through my mind, aside from karma, of course.

One, there was someone in our woods, potentially a neighbor. And two, he seemed to have lost a dog, like I did. Although a stranger, I still felt the urge to help, as I just lost my dog in those woods, too. Mom, I said as I went inside. There's someone in the woods, I told her, ushering her to listen. She stopped doing the dishes and went out to listen as well, hearing it too. The man never called the dog's name, something I didn't notice at the time, and just proceeded to say, Here, boy, come back, and come here, now.

My mom gave me a wide-eyed look, as she looked just as scared as I did when I first heard it. I think we should go help. I said as I grabbed my Winchester BB gun. The actual guns were in a locker I had no access to, so this would have to do for protection. Should we? She asked. Before we heard a dog. My heart lifted as I hoped it was karma, but it was a hound dog, it sounded like,

and it was getting farther away. Mother's instincts seemed to kick in as she went out there with me. We both knew the dangers of the woods at night, and she began calling out for the dog. I also called out, but I was calling out for karma, really. As we headed into the tree line, not wanting to go down too far, We noticed as we stopped just before the hill that things were way too quiet.

Sure, we heard some nighttime insects, but as we heard the man call out again, he sounded closer. Even though the dog's barking was faint and clearly far away, the leaves on the ground were basically dead. Yet there were no crunching noises, as whoever was out there was getting closer and closer. There was no flashlight shining either. When our neighbor lost their cat, we saw their flashlights in the woods, so we became skeptical at the fact that the strange man we heard didn't have one, and we stopped calling out. Turning around, we headed back to the small path and into the safety of the yard. Our dogs wagged their tails at the side of us, but it wasn't the same without my dog. We walked along the tree line, staying a few feet back as we looked for some form of light, but found none.

It was then we heard it. Come here, boy, in a deep, angry voice. It sounded like it was down some, to our right. I felt the hair raised on the back of my neck and rushed into the back of our house as our dogs began barking like crazy. Their snarled growls being the only noise as everything else went silent. Mother wasn't far behind as we got inside and closed the door, staring out as we turned out the lights inside.

so if the man entered our yard, he couldn't see us as we stayed at the glass door. As I thought of how weird this all was, I realized something. He never said the name of what he was looking for. In fact, he said the same words I had earlier when karma had run off. Was he copying me? My thoughts were interrupted as I heard my mother grasp and cover her mouth before she closed the curtains to the door. Her tan complexion had gone pale.

Without thinking, I took a peek as I could hear one of our dogs going crazy. I saw her lunging and growling, so I looked to where she was looking. What I saw was not human. I don't even know what it was. Its skin was white. The moon wasn't even needed to see. It was so pale, I was sure it was a ghost at first. Its eyes sunken into its face.

It didn't seem to have a nose, and it looked like it was upside down. crawling on its hands and feet, as if it was doing a crab walk, sort of. But its head was upright, back arched so its stomach was pointing up to the sky, as it slowly made its way from the tree line. Its teeth didn't even fit its mouth, and its jaw hung open, a long slimy tongue hanging out as its dark, beady eyes looked around. Here, boy. It spoke.

Come here, boy. It just kept saying, Its head twitching, as it turned halfway, shakily, before snapping back upright. It didn't even seem to care about the dogs barking at it. Then, it looked at the house, and I swear for a second that we made eye contact. I couldn't move, for the fear it would see the curtain movements. For what seemed like an eternity, we were just staring at one another, until it twisted its body slowly, bones seeming to crack and pop as it began standing on its legs.

Whatever it is, was tall, tall, bony, and its skin tied around its frame, showing every bone in its disgustingly lanky body. Some hair hung from its elbows, patches splotted around its chest. Its arms were long and almost seemed to drag on the ground. Long, sharp nails were seen. They were black, but the moonlight made them seem to shine slightly. Its body proportions were just so off. It had regular leg size, a bent torso, like its spine grew crooked, and those long arms. It stood at least eight feet tall, and I was petrified. How was it able to twist its body like that? How was a creature like this, even alive? I thought I was going to crap myself at the side of this thing. Is this what karma went after? Did this get him? My thought stopped when it began walking towards our

house, taking slow strides, as its body seemed to sway with each small step it took. Here, boy. Its voice croaked, though it was hard to hear through the glass. My hand that held lightly to the curtain was shaking, as I felt unable to look away, as I felt those eyes were staring back at me. A flash suddenly gone around our backyard. Our neighbor was heading over, I assumed, based on the direction it was coming from. He must have heard the dogs going to ballistic and came to check it out. I thought he was going to get attacked, but the creature screeched and ran back into the trees. Even after it left, I was stuck just staring at the trees until the dogs turned their attention to the front yard. Did it circle around? Slowly,

I finally stepped away as I looked to the door and heard a knock. My knees felt so weak, as I released a breath I wasn't aware I was holding. My mom had answered the door, and it was our neighbor, explaining that he had heard our dog going crazy. Just like I thought, I didn't hear much of the conversation as I felt sick and ran to the bathroom. Emptying the contents of food I had just eaten hours before, mother questioned me later that night before bed

about what I saw, but I couldn't answer. She saw it too, but only a glimpse. She didn't see the way it moved, the way it stared at me. Later that night around 2 a.m., Our neighbor gave us a call, saying he saw our dog in his backyard. I ran out back, hoping it really was him. And there he was, strutting over to us with his tail between his legs as he knew he was in trouble for running off.

Yet I couldn't be mad at him. I was just glad that whatever that thing was hadn't gotten to him. I moved shortly after that experience and now live in the city. I guess I thought that by riding this out, the nightmares would stop. But they haven't. I can't get the image of those eyes burning into my mind out. I've also written this as a warning. If you lose your dog in the woods and hear some unfamiliar voice calling for it

when you thought you were alone, run. Even if you have a group of friends or family, run, go home and stay away from the windows. There's no telling what it might do if it actually catches you. I have lived in Inverness, Scotland, all of my life. The house which I live is essentially in the middle of nowhere, and is surrounded by woods which go on for ages. The trail to get onto the main road is through the woods. There is no escaping them.

I have gone into these woods every day since I was a little girl, and as I got older, started taking my dog in there for long walks, and sometimes even a night out in the park. Never any reports of a dangerous animal in there, except your average fox, and one time a female wolf and her pups, but they were taken to an animal sanctuary. The fact is, it's never been a dangerous place, not until recently. I live in the same house I lived in when I was a little girl, but now it's my fiancé and I that live there. My parents moved to a petite neighborhood in the town, as they're getting older, and it's more manageable,

and I decided to keep the house for Josh and I. Recently, I've been getting home from work later than usual, so it's been well past dark, especially this time of year. When I get back, it's usually 7.30 p.m. When I get in, my dog is always antsy for a walk in the woods, as he hasn't been getting them regularly since I've been working later, and Josh is always working late. He's a police officer. Anyway, it was Monday the 25th of November.

when I started noticing something in the woods, I got home around 7.30, and when I got in, my dog was ready to go out for a run in the woods. He was hysterical. I quickly changed and got my dog's leash and opened the door, and he took off running out the garden gate, and straight into the woods. I followed him, slower, though. He knows where he's going, and knows my pace and where to find me. So I take my time and leisurely stroll through the woods. and just as I was starting to get into the heart of the woods, I hear a sharp cracking sound, like something big has just stood up on a large stick and snapped it in half. I don't worry, though, because I'm used to hearing these sorts of sounds, as I'm always in the woods.

I carried on, and around ten minutes after the large crack, which came from up ahead, I hear another one. This one was closer, more violent. I'm not going to lie, it made me jump. At this point, Potato, my dog, must have been a bit rattled as well, because he came skirting through the woods faster than I've seen him run before. Potato is a small dog, just a short-haired fur ball with stubby legs, which restricts him from running too fast. This time, though, he's running too fast that he's tripping over his small legs and the woodland ground. I stop walking fast enough to reach down and grab him, and I scoop him up to calm him down.

Once he stopped panting so hard and his little heart stopped hammering against my arm, I put him down on the floor and we carry on our walk. Potato doesn't run off like he usually does after he comes back to make sure I'm still following. He stays by my side and doesn't stay too far behind or in front. I strike this as unusual because nothing really scares him. Like me, he is used to the sounds we encounter in the woods because he has been with me since I was 18. We walk down to the end of the woods, to where there is a short river, which is usually where we stop on our nighttime walks. He gets a small drink from the river before he's ready to start back off through the woods, into the house.

I noticed that he doesn't spend as much time messing around by the river like he usually does, and he's more on edge and jumps when he hears a crack. I figured the large crack we heard before must have scared him, so I quickly get myself sorted and walk through the woods home because I don't want him to feel on edge about being in the woods. When we reach home, I open the doors and he charges through straight into the laundry room where it's warm and he has a little bed with his favorite blanket that came with him when we bought him.

I was worried but didn't think too much of it. And I knock off my boots at the door and scrape the frozen mud off of them so I could take them into the house. and that's when I seen something move in my line of sight. I quickly turn and see black fur shoot behind a group of large trees. I put my boots back on and start off down the path and out of the garden gate, and I see something moving behind the trees again. I start forward, and I think it might be one of the dogs from the house

just a little down the road from mine. As I went forward, Potato comes out and follows me. He walks just ahead of me before he noticed. his movement and tenses up. He starts growling and bearing his teeth, which he never does, not even when he sees a fox in the woods. The thing behind the trees starts moving forward, and when I first glance at it, I don't know what I was looking at. It looked like a big, deformed wolf, but wasn't walking like a wolf. It was walking on its hind legs, with its front legs in front of him for support. It moved like a gorilla. I was too stunned to move. I was too stunned to

move, and potato was growling and snarling even worse now. When I realize it's staring at us, also bearing its large set of teeth, I notice its large, yellow, glowing eyes. The sense comes back into me, and I slowly grab potato and run straight back into the house as quickly as I can. All the while, this thing was growling loudly at me, but didn't move. I slammed the door and took potato into his little room and gave him some food to calm him down. I walked him, through the living room and close the curtains and do the same in the kitchen. Then I phone Josh and tell him what I just witnessed, and he reassures me and tells me that when he gets home at 11, he will make sure everything is okay.

Until then, I just sat and watched TV with Potato and had some dinner and tried to take my mind off whatever it was I seen. Just a little after 11, I see Josh's headlights shine through the curtain, and Potato starts getting excited and goes and waits by the door. I stand up to look out the curtains, and sure enough, Josh is shining his torch into the woods and looking about. About 15 minutes later, he comes in and says there was nothing there, but there is a deer carcass just a little into the woods. That unnerves me, but I don't think anything of it, and we go to bed, and that's that. Over the next few days, I don't think

much about what I saw, and Josh doesn't mention it again either. Josh and I had been working a lot, so Potato was staying with my parents for a few days, until Josh and I were off for a week for our seven-year anniversary. Yesterday I finished work early, and that was me off for a week, so I went to my parents' house and picked up Potato, who was quite a few pounds heavier than when I left him, all thanks to my mom. She's always had a soft spot for my dog. I spend about a half hour at my parents before going home and changing before getting potato ready to go out for a short walk, because it's getting colder and it's too cold to stay out for too long. I put on my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, and my walking boots, and I put on Potato's winter jacket, and we set

off on our walk. We get a small bit into the woods, and it's apparent that Potato hasn't forgotten about our encounter we had last time we were in there, so he doesn't run off and sticks to my side for the whole walk. Nothing happened until we were walking back to the house. We were nearing the edge of the forest and I could see the gate to my house and I could see that Josh was now home because his patrol car was parked next to my car. Potato sees this too, starts walking a bit faster towards the house and Josh comes out of the front door to greet Potato. But just as Potato walked out of the forest, he gets knocked to the floor by something that's large with black fur and the rest is a blur. I don't know what to do, but my adrenaline starts kicking in

when I realize my little potato is getting attacked by a massive beast. Josh apparently feels the same because he runs back into the house and comes back out with a rifle. I run up to the creature, which wasn't a wise choice now that I look back, and kick it with as much force as I could, and it growls and I do it again because I see that there are red spots all over the ground, and I knew it must have been potatoes because the beast didn't have a single scratch. I'm trying to get it off a potato, but it's mad. He turned to look at me with its piercing yellow eyes, and I was shocked at the sight of it.

It had the face of a wolf, but it was so much bigger and fiercer, and didn't have fur in some places, but was just skin. It stood up on its hind legs and towered over me. It was bigger than I anticipated. I moved back from it because I realized it was off of potato, and it followed me, and just as it was about to swipe at me, a shot rang through the air, and the beast was. like creature howled so loud I had to cover my ears. I heard it running off, and I opened my eyes and stood in shock, but the side of Josh running, and the sound of whimpering beside me, brought me back

to reality, and ran to Potato, who was bleeding a lot, so much that I couldn't tell where it was coming from. Josh picked him up, and we ran to the house, and I followed close behind, not looking back into the woods because I was too frightened with the idea of what I might see. I locked the door behind us and Josh takes Potato into the laundry room and places him on top of the clean worktop and grabs one of his t-shirts that was folded in a pile on top of the washing machine. I stood stroking Potato's head and crying because I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do. Potato was whimpering and twitching, so I tried to comfort him as much as possible. Josh started wiping the mess away, and that's when I noticed something that made my heart stop.

Potato had two deep gashes, one on his neck and one close to his stomach. I remember crying out, and Josh runs and grabs the phone, not before telling me to keep pressure on both of the wounds, to hold it. I placed both my hands on the wounds, and pressed down until Josh came back and told me that he was going to take Potato down the road to the nearest vet, and told me to stay home. I wasn't happy. but I didn't argue because potato was injured, and I could hear it in his breathing and his little eyes. Josh left, and I sat crying in the living room for hours,

until 3 a.m. Josh came into the house, and when I see he didn't have potato, I cried harder. But anyway, I worry about potato. He has to stay at the vets for a few days, as they gave him stitches, but they had to see whether he would make it through the night, as the gashes were very deep,

and they weren't sure whether or not he would succumb to the wounds. Just past 11 this morning, we got a call from the vets, telling us that potato made it through the night and is awake, looking for me and Josh. So we took his blanket, and we sat with him for a few hours. He will be home on Wednesday if everything is okay, and I will visit him at the vets. I haven't seen anything in the woods, but we never usually did after dark, and I'm not going in there hunting until I'm sure that my potato is back.

home safe and sound. I know yesterday wasn't the last time I will see it. I was 11 years old when a fire started spreading in the smokies. I remember watching the news and my parents getting more worried as parks closed and rental cabins were burned to their foundations, like matchsticks in the neighboring town. I remember mom saying that the coal seemed has burned for 40 years. Everyone said it would never reach the surface, that we were safe. No one seemed to know how it had reached the surface. Airtight water barriers, constant patrolling, and even dynamite in riverbeds to help flood the mines, had kept the underground fire at bay all this time. And in recent years, it was almost extinguished. Sabotage was

suspected, but no one could get near the mines. They in the woods around them burned with a heat and fury never before seen in our normally humid climate. We may have to take the girls and evacuate, Mom said. Nighttime in the living room felt different lately. I started to notice that the same huge white curtains behind and above the sofa that poured sunlight in during the daytime became a two-way mirror at night. With the lights on in the house and darkness outside, anyone could see through the curtains to us and what we were doing,

but we couldn't see out. We only saw the curtains looming, ghostly. The scene was around 10 p.m. on the third night of the fire, was familiar enough, if a bit more tense. Mom and dad were watching the news and tracking the path of the fire before bed, and my seven-year-old sister Emma and I were in the living room working on a puzzle in the middle of the dark brown carpet that stretched wall-to-wall on that level. All the lights were on around us, but the house still seemed dim somehow. I cracked a window to let in some fresh air now that the breeze had shifted. Emma finished the edge pieces before I could, and was gloating

about it, and I was pulling all of the inside pieces away from her and laughing about it. When suddenly, a heavy gust blew the curtains in further towards us and knocked a picture of me off of the end table. Emma and I were both startled, but laughed when we realized what had happened. My mood shifted after that moment. I wondered about the fire if it would reach us. The darkness outside seemed infinite now, but I'd seen the unnatural red glow on the horizon. My heart pounded afterwards longer than I felt it should have, and I couldn't stop looking over at the window. Before long, I was starting to imagine I saw a shadow and heard that.

sounds on the other side of the immense white curtain, and the night seemed to press around the room more closely than before. I got up and turned on the dining room and kitchen lights, trying to chase away that gloom that seemed to be trying to swallow us. When I sat back down, I was able to draw my attention away from the moonless night outside, but I kept hearing something, sort of an arrhythmic tapping on the window panes. I knew I had to be imagining the sound, but if I ignored it, it grew louder, as though trying to pull my attention away from the safety of the light. Then, Emma looked up and listened. Is somebody out there?

She asked, as though I might know the answer. I looked back at the curtains, which were still now. Suddenly, fear washed over me like a cold sweat, and I grabbed her hand and bolted up the stairs. Out of breath, I told our parents there was something outside. Emma stayed with Mom while Dad held my hand and went down the stairs. He leaned over the couch before I could ask him not to and yanked open the curtain. Dimly visible outside were the neighbor's houses, a road to the left, and the woods to the right. All of it was dimly lit by a few streetlights and the eerie red glow.

The night air under a new moon was thick and swirling, and the woods beyond were invisible and silent, but seemed endless. I moved closer to my dad. Moths flicked against the window, leaving dull spots of dust from their wings behind on the glass. Every time they hit, I heard the tapping that had sent Emma and I running up the stairs. Louder now that I could see them, they must have been attracted to the lights in the house, Dad explained. Maybe we should turn off some of them. He turned off the dining room, kitchen, and overhead lights. I felt relieved, but the night was closing in again. Will you stay down here and watch some TV with me? I asked him. I don't feel like I'm ready to go to bed yet. Sure, for a while,

Dad agreed. I curled up on the couch, uncertainly, as he sat in the only chair, but eventually felt safer with him flipping through the channels nearby. Hours later, I woke up to the sound of rain. It was dark and I was alone. I had once been happy to sleep down here with Emma, until she started sleepwalking, that is. I usually prefer having her with me, but when I woke up to find her one night, staring at me next to my bed, empty-eyed and whispering incoherently, it seemed like she wasn't there. It felt as though some part of the inexplainable fear I sometimes felt at night, had possessed her body, and was sending her drifting through the quiet house, like a visiting spirit.

Eventually, I started locking my bedroom door at night. 302 was the time I saw in green digital numbers on a clock across the room when I was stirred awake by the rising sound of rain. Rain, I thought, thank goodness. I was in complete darkness, except for a dim glow from a distant street light refracting through the fog. All the lights in the house were off, and Dad had gone to bed. I thought I smelled smoke again, even though the windows were shut. I looked around and all was quiet, except for the rain outside,

but I had the distinct feeling of being in a situation I needed to get out of immediately. Panic was already creeping up my chest. When I looked up and saw the shadow behind the curtain above me, I blinked hard and froze. It was tall and still. and had the rough shape of a human figure, but much too tall. It was right up against the window. Sleep paralysis had taught me long ago to question my senses. I slowed my breathing and closed my eyes, waiting for the waking dream to end

and wishing my dad had taken me with him when he turned out the lights and went to bed. I couldn't blame him because he knew I normally loved sleeping here on the couch. My eyes had been closed no more than a second, when a noise in front of the fireplace behind me sent me bolting upright. It almost sounded like a mechanical scream. Soon as I recognized the sound as Emma's toy horse that whined when you squeezed its sides,

I looked and saw the horse, blue with a green mane and saddle, on top of her other toys in the basket, but the room was empty. I was fully awake now, and all I could think about was how to get upstairs to my room without hurting myself in fright. I sat up more and looked back up at the window. The shadow remained. The fear that moved through me now was so swift and sickening. I couldn't move at all, even though I had flailed from the sounds behind me only seconds ago. I tried to run away or scream, but my body was going numb, and I couldn't make a sound. I looked helplessly up towards my parents' bedroom.

I couldn't stand to lie still anymore. I had to shake free of this nightmare. somehow. I decided that the only thing left to do was weakly reach behind me and pull the cord. I yanked open the curtains with all of my remaining strength. The window stood before me, and what I saw were moths. Hundreds of them, pelting the glass in a furious swarm, causing the sound I had awoken to and had mistaken for pouring rain. Two streetlights flickered in the distance. In the middle of the swarm was a form that looked only veiled. but in much greater detail now. Its long hair hung black and gray in matted clumps,

and its skin was the same two colors, shrunken siphly against a hollow skull, torn and filthy garments hung loosely around its body, exposing the hardened skin and bone. The thing looked as though it had been burnt alive and buried and then crawled up out of the ground. The dull brown wings of the insects rolled in and out of the faint light. around the black silhouette, like thick clusters of dust from an open tomb. The eyes on the figure were black and sunken in, with a dark red rim, like that distant glow on the horizon, but the pupils were somehow darker than the rest of it, and darker than night itself. I could still see them, glimmering like black sapphires. Even after the streetlights flickered out,

I realized suddenly that the moths were drawn to the darkness of this ghastly figure. as though it were light and were endlessly spiraling towards it, as though being pulled towards the center of a black hole. My head swarmed, and I fell dizzy off of the couch. Hitting my head on the coffee table, the eyes followed. I closed my eyes, but could still see those two onyx points, piercing their gaze through my eyelids. I opened them again and couldn't bring myself to look away. I could only crawl backwards into the dining room until I hit a short wall in front of the kitchen counter. The eyes followed. I tried to believe it was a dream, but even as I was sinking into unconsciousness, I knew it was not. I was brought sharply back to reality by a loud

squeak of the window being opened. A charred and blackened hand crept inside through the crack it had made and tried to open the window further, but to my horror, the hand appeared to start crumbling and disintegrating in the effort. As the char and ashes fell away, Bright cinders were exposed, which fell to the carpet, catching on fire. The smell that entered the room was now both smoky and acidic. It had an aged earthiness that I only smelled hints of, in the most long abandoned and moldy cellars. A sweet but foul note floated on the air with it.

I was backed against the wall of the counter now, and my left hand was sliding down it behind me. It was then that my hand sunk down onto two deeply sharp, nails beneath the visible surface of the carpet, puncturing it so deeply that my mom would have to worry about tetanus, and the scars would never disappear. I found my voice then to scream. It was a weak, hoarse scream,

but once I started, I couldn't stop. Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I tore my eyes away from the locked gaze of the specter to see Emma walking out of the kitchen into the dining room where I was. She was in her nightgown, holding the same toy horse that had gone off behind me earlier, and was staring out into the room at nothing, with an impossibly dilated eyes that appeared black and uncomprehending. I was once afraid of her and for her. Emma, I managed to say,

shh, she replied, approaching me. She put an icy hand on my shoulder. Stay here, she whispered. Emma walked towards the figure outside, whose gaze had now shifted up towards my mother's window. She picked up a small blanket and dropped it on the small patch of cinders and small fires that had formed on the carpet. Then Emma put her hand on the window and began speaking through the glass in sounds and syllables that I still have never been able to identify as an actual language. Emma gently touched the glass. The figure outside began to slowly disappear, as though it were disappearing into the language. the night. It fell apart like it was made of only ashes and had been hit by a strong wind. Its gaze still fixed towards the room where my parents slept. The moths disappeared as well, a few

falling dead on the windowsill. As the apparition faded, so did my consciousness, away into nothing. When I awoke again, it was morning, and I was in my own bed upstairs. I heard my parents talking excitedly about the news that the fire was receding, despite all predictions to the contrary, and we wouldn't have to evacuate. I didn't need to feel the pain in my palm of my hand to know I had not dreamt what had happened, but I was startled nonetheless when I looked down at it. What I saw there were two black puncture wounds, red-rimmed, and staring at me like two black eyes. Mom wanted to know why there were so many dead moths downstairs, and where all the dirt and ashes in the windowsill came from.

And what happened to the carpet? I don't remember what I said, but it wasn't the truth. Emma remembers none of it, except stories of the damage all around us, and also a dream that Tina, her toy horse, was calling out to her on that awful night. I heard that horse go off in the early morning hours a few times after that, and Emma's shuffling footsteps not long after. All I could do was pull the covers over my head, shiver, and try to sleep.

I could really use some help here, as I'm starting to get really worried. Last night, I was followed by a very creepy lady, while out hiking in my local trails at state land. I've hiked and hunted these trails my whole life, and not once have I encountered anything quite like this. Don't get me wrong. I've had my fair share of spooky things happen while out solo camping. But this?

This chilled me right to the bone, and now I think I'm being stalked. Let me explain what's going on, and hopefully one of you may be able to help me out here. Christmas Eve, I had nothing to do, as I have no wife, no kids, and my parents live three hours away. So to get rid of my boredom, I had this genius idea of going on a solo hike through our local trails. Like I said, I've hiked these trails multiple times. This time, however, I'll never forget. I got out to the trail head about 5 p.m. I had my headlamp on, and I knew these trails like the back of my hand,

so I wasn't too concerned with the sunlight quickly fading. I don't know if any of you are from Michigan, but we are having a surprisingly sunny and warm December. However, it still gets dark around 5 to 5.30. The weather was beautiful and perfect for a nighttime walk. We don't have too many nice winter days like this, so I wanted to take full advantage and enjoy the warm night air. So I got out of my truck and started up the trail head.

This particular trail I was on started out in dense pine trees and after a mile or so opened up to these awesome valleys and huge fields. Most of the time, if I was quiet enough and looked around, I could see some of the same some deer grazing and other wildlife. This time though, nothing. I was honestly quite surprised there wasn't a single animal considering how beautiful of a night it was. Now that I think about it, I didn't see or hear even a squirrel in those pines, which is very uncommon. They are plentiful in these parts, and no matter the time, I can always hear them running and playing in the trees. This time, it was completely silent.

I kept on walking, though, and just enjoyed the peace and quiet. Once I exited the pines and entered the first field, I started to get this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something was watching me. I chalked it up to me being paranoid

due to the lack of wildlife and continued on. I wish I would have turned back right then and there. But if I did, well, I wouldn't be posting here now would I? Anyway,

I continued on, and the feeling just intensified as I progressed. At this point, I was a good mile and a half in, and it dawned on me. If there was something out here with me, I was screwed. Not a single person knew that I was out here, and I never had cell reception when I was in the area. If a predator was stalking me, I would just be done for. I was kicking myself for not bringing my handgun with me, honestly. We don't have a whole lot of dangerous game here. here in central Michigan, so I didn't think twice about it when leaving.

I was nearing the end of the first field, and before I stepped into the next little section of pines, I decided to take a quick look around, just to satisfy that nagging feeling in the back of my mind. At first, I didn't see anything, but just as I was about to turn back around, something caught my eyes. There was a slight movement back about a hundred yards behind me. What? I whispered as I squinted to get a better look. I wasn't sure, but it looked like a figure, half hidden behind a bush.

I stared closely, and when I saw it shift slightly, my heart leapt into my throat. The figure was definitely humanoid, and it appeared to be staring straight at me. Hello? I foolishly called out, hoping whoever it was would simply identify itself. As soon as I hollered, the figure quickly ducked behind the bush, disappearing from my view. My heart was racing pretty good at this point. A million worst-case scenarios running through my mind. I couldn't help but think it was a serial killer, ready to pounce and stab me, stashing my body in these woods. I turned around, started walking a little faster, trying to distance myself from whoever was out here with me. To my horror, I heard twigs and sticks

snapping a little ways behind me as the person started following me. I have a lot of gun, I shouted, trying to scare them into leaving me alone, looked over my shoulder to see where they were at. And when I did, my heart hammered in my chest. I swear I thought I was going to pass out. The person was now maybe 20 feet behind me, and I could tell it was a woman. Only her jaw hung open, as if incomplete shock, her eyes extremely wide, staring directly at me. When I first turned around, She was still walking, and the way she moved scared me so bad it sent me into a sprint upon looking at her. I know it sounds kind of funny, but believe me, it wasn't. She was tiptoeing as quiet as she could, in the same way a cartoon character would.

Trying to be sneaky, her legs taking these huge, lanky steps, everything about the way she looked and moved. Just sent me these shivers down my spine. Leave me alone, lady. I shouted as I ran as fast as I could. As I ran, I heard her start to laugh hysterically as she chased me. She was no longer trying to be quiet, as I could hear her crashing through the woods. Catching up to me rather quickly, I decided to turn and run off the trail once I rounded a bend where I knew she couldn't see me for a moment. As soon as I stepped off, I quickly hid behind a tree and turned off my headlamp. After a couple seconds, I heard the sound of her heavy.

odd footsteps as she got closer and closer. I held my breath and slammed my eyes shut, sending a quick prayer to let her pass. Her horrible laughter echoed through the woods, as thankfully she ran past me. As soon as her footsteps sounded a little further down the trail, I jumped out from behind the tree and took off running back the way I came. I hadn't got 20 feet when I heard a curdling scream bellow through the woods. I ran faster than I, ever had in my life, running on pure adrenaline and the will to live. I just knew if she caught me, I wouldn't make it. The sound of her footsteps once again got louder and louder as she got closer. How could she run so fast? I felt a huge wave of relief as I saw the entrance of the

trailhead, maybe a hundred feet. Somehow, I ran even faster as I knew my truck would be right there. I reached into my pockets and fished for my keys. She let out a number of the road. She let out a another hideous scream as she got even closer, maybe 50 feet behind me now. I got into my truck and jumped in, putting the keys in the ignition and starting it in record time. I backed up and peeled out of there as fast as I could without losing control. After one final scream of frustration, I looked in my rearview mirror to watch the woods disappear in my rearview mirror. The whole drive home, I kept checking behind me, afraid I'd see her chasing after me, even, even even though I knew it would be impossible at 60 miles an hour.

Five minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and jumped out of my truck once parked, running full blast inside. I slammed the door behind me and locked it. I ran around my house, locking every window and door, not feeling safer until I knew I was locked up and safe. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and laid in my bed, catching my breath. After a while, I must have passed out from exhaustion. I woke up to the pitch black room and quiet house.

My heart started racing as I remember the lady from the woods, and I jumped up to look out my window. No, I quietly whispered as I looked to my backyard. The lady from the woods was standing in my backyard, slack-jawed, and staring right at me. My heart once again pounded so hard I thought I would faint. As soon as she noticed me, she smiled this huge, impossibly wide, ear-to-ear grin. She then shrieked that awful scream again and ran back into the woods.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep after that. So I'll start this off by saying, I love camping. It's my hobby that I do every weekend to clear my mind. But the thing is that I'm not your usual camper. Like, I don't go to spots that everyone knows about. I go to the deepest, most secluded parts of the forest, that most people consider not reachable, and I'm usually going alone. This time was not very different than most of my camping trips. I hopped in my old Ford Ranger, which usually had some trouble starting up, traveled a couple of hours into the pine forest until I reached a very suspicious-looking dirt road. The thing is, I like suspicious-looking dirt roads.

They usually take me to the best camping spots. I got onto it. It was very unkept, looked like a car hadn't driven on it in the last year, but my old truck didn't have any trouble driving on it. I drove for what seemed like an hour until the road ended on a small clearing. I parked my truck and got out and looked around. I realized I'm in the middle of nowhere, which, oddly enough, was a good thing for me. I got all my gear with me and started walking towards the woods. When I reached the tree line, an odd feeling of uneasiness descended upon me.

Like, when you're alone in the house and all of a sudden the power to the whole neighborhood cuts off, and you feel like something is about to come and rip you to pieces, or is it just me? Anyway, I thought a little, but ignored it as the unusual forest creepiness. I started walking deep into the forest, and when I say deep, I mean deep. like walking a couple of hours through fallen trees, big rocks, hills and everything related. Finally, I found a small stream, and by small, I mean like nine feet wide, and five feet deep at most. It had a small clearing on the edge, and I decided that this was my home for the next three days. I set up my tent and got a small fire going.

By this time, it was 4.30 p.m., and the sun was starting to set up. but it was quite dark since the trees covered most of the sunlight anyway. I decided it was the perfect time to sit down, crack a beer, that I left to cool in the river and relax. By 8 p.m., I was starting to get very sleepy. I gathered all of my stuff, collected all of the trash and leftovers, put them in the bag and hung them on some tree to keep the bears away from my camp. I got in my tent and quickly fell asleep. I had to had a dream that night. I was at the tree line where I parked my car. I felt that feeling of uneasiness again, but this time it was different. It was stronger. As I was about to start walking

into the forest, I heard a strange noise, like a stick breaking from a heavy weight, but hollower. I turned to the source of the sound to see a tall, skinny shadow standing 100 feet away on the other side of the clearing, just at the tree line behind some bushes, which it was towering by at least 12 feet. Of course, I got scared, turned around and tried to run, but you know how dreams are. My feet just couldn't get any grip on the ground, like some invisible force was holding me back. I turned around to see the shadow was now slowly walking towards me, and making a crack with every step. When I saw that, sheer teard. terror descended upon me. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was in my tent again,

sitting and breathing heavily. Weird, I thought, as I didn't remember waking up. My rationality got the better of me. After all, it was just a dream, right? People sometimes don't remember waking up from terrible dreams. Anyway, it was around 9 a.m., and I proceeded with my daily duties, which consisted of looking around the camp for any trails from wild animals, gather some wood for the night, and checking the trash bag that I hung from the tree. I started by collecting some wood from the surrounding forest, then check for any trails, and didn't find any,

until I headed for the trash bag. When I got to the tree, it should have been hanging from. Nothing. And by that I mean absolutely nothing. No bag, no trash. My first thought was, bears, but no. As far as I'm aware, bears don't eat cans inside of plastic bags, right? I looked around for signs from any wildlife, but nothing except some weird small holes in the ground.

They looked like someone took a big sharp stick and stabbed it into the ground. The weirder thing is they were spaced out like footsteps. My first thought was, maybe another camper, but that didn't see. rational. Like who would come this far into the forest, in the middle of the night, just to steal my trash bag. Anyway, I just followed the footsteps. They circled a couple times around my camp, which was creepy enough. But then they headed straight into the river. These footsteps, if you could call them that, didn't resemble the trails of any animal that I know of. I got creeped out, and I didn't want to follow them any further. Some time passed,

It was now 2 p.m., and I decided that a short swim in the cold stream wasn't a bad idea. I smelled like sweat anyway. I got my bathing suit on and headed straight toward the river. I jumped in the cold water and immediately felt refreshed and cleansed. I swam around and jumped in the water for a little. Then it hit me. The footsteps. Maybe I should go back and try to follow them again.

I got to where they entered the water. river, checked around for where they should have exited the water, and after about 15 minutes of searching in the cold water, I started to feel quite cold, and right as I was about to head back from my camp, I saw them. There they were, the same weird holes in the ground, on the other side of the riverbed. I got out of the river and started following them again. About 50 feet in, I noticed that the footsteps suddenly come to a complete stop. I look around to find more but no luck. It's like the person, or I should say, thing that left them, suddenly disappeared into thin air. I got creeped out and decided to leave whatever left those weird holes alone.

I got back to my camp, dried myself off, ate some canned beans, got a decent fire going, and drank some beer while relaxing around a campfire. By this time, it was around 5 p.m. and the sun had already set, covered by the thick pine forest. Time for relaxation, I thought. Two hours in, and I started feeling sleepy again until I heard it. The hollow noise of a stick being broken that I heard in my dream last night. Shivers ran down my spine, and a sudden feeling of dread filled my whole body. A bear? I thought, but no, there was no trash bag that could attract him this time. The sound was coming from the total opposite way, from where those footsteps ended, and then, crack, like someone was walking in a big hallway, with cheaply made wooden heels that broke with

every step. I turned around, and there it was, on the other side of the riverbed, that skinny and tall shadow illuminated by only the moonlight, it was just standing there, observing me. I just stared at it with horror as my mind was racing with thoughts of what it would do. Then it hit me. I always carry a gun on my camping trips. I jumped out of my resting spot, running straight from my tent to get my Winchester bolt-action rifle. As I reached the tent, I unzipped it, opened the little door, and the second I entered, everything got black for a part of a second.

It was like when you suddenly stand up and your peripheral vision goes dark. And there I was, laying next to the campfire, which had already stopped burning. I noticed it was starting to get bright outside. I checked my clock and... 7 a.m.? How was that possible? I was just in front of the tent. Did I fall asleep and not notice?

Was I that sleepy last night? I had so many thoughts running through my head at that moment. A couple of minutes passed, and I shook it off as another dream. weird, but very realistic and scary dream, but still just a dream, right? I started going from my daily duties, just like the previous day. I checked wildlife trails, gathered wood, checked the trash bag, and then... What? The trash bag?

I didn't leave the trash bag last night, didn't I? But there it was, hanging from the same tree. Was I going crazy, losing my mind? or is there someone that's playing tricks on me? I stood there for a second and thought about it. A sudden blast of courage got over me. I got my gun from my tent, loaded it, and headed to where I saw the creature last night.

I crossed the river, looked around for the footsteps. It wasn't hard to find them. They were right where I last saw the creature last night. I followed them, pointing my gun at every sound I heard, walking around 10 minutes until I came across another clearing in the middle of the forest. I looked around for more footsteps, but there weren't any, and then it hit me. The last two footsteps were a bit deeper than the previous ones. That means the creature didn't vanish.

It jumped. I immediately looked up in the trees above me. Nothing. I looked around the clearing, still nothing. Then I checked to the top of the trees. and there it was. On the other side of the clearing, right in front of me, some 250 feet away, it was standing there at the very top of one of the pine trees, staring at me, observing. I pointed my gun at the side of it, then squeezed the trigger, and right as my gun fired,

the thing, it just jumped off the top of the tree before the bullet could even hit it. Then another tree, and another, still making that stupid crack. sound with every jump. It was getting closer to me, and then I just ran straight to my camp. When I was in front of my tent, I couldn't hear the cracking anymore, but still, pure fear was all over me. I grabbed the most important things from my camp, like my phone, wallet, and some more ammo for the gun in case I needed it later. I then ran straight from my car, but deep inside me, I knew that my car was at least a three-hour walk from my camp, but that didn't stop me. I ran as fast as I could, and as far as I could.

Of course, my body couldn't keep up with all of that running, but my mind was stronger. When I couldn't run, I spedwalked. I just, I couldn't stop moving. I was so scared, even when I hadn't heard a sound in over an hour, which was kind of eerie on its own, but I didn't care. I just had to move as fast as I could. About three-fourths of the whole distance, I just couldn't run or even walk for that matter.

I needed to rest, even if my mind didn't want to. My body couldn't keep up with it. I stopped behind a fallen tree and sat down for a second. I was sitting there for no more than three minutes. Then I heard it, that cracking sound. I was filled with terror and immediately started running. running again, even if my body wasn't ready for it. Finally, after what felt like days of running, I saw the clearing where my car was parked in the distance.

I felt relieved, but not for long. As I got closer to the car, I heard the cracking sound again. This time it was very close. I really thought this was the end for me. That thing, whatever it was, was about to get me. And just as I accepted my fate, I slammed into me. my car's door. I was so buried in thoughts that I didn't even realize I was right in front of my car. Immediately, I unlocked my car and entered it. I tried to breathe for a second, but immediately got shoved back to reality. That thing was still cracking its way towards me. I put my keys into the ignition, then turned them, and nothing, not even a click. Battery, it used to disconnect very easily on bumpy roads, but that meant I had to get back out there, open the hood,

and connect the battery. After a minute, I had barely gathered the courage, but I pulled the knob, got out, and opened the door, fidgeted around with the battery, and finally got it connected. I ran straight back to the car, locked all of the doors, and tried to start it again. I turned the key. This time the starter rotated, but the car didn't start. I tried it again, and still the same. Just when I was about to lose all hope, I turned the key a third time, and bam, the old truck started right up. I peeled out of there all the hours back to my house, while still hearing those cracking noises echoing through my mind, never to be forgotten. Since then, I hadn't gotten that far into the woods, and certainly don't go camping alone.

Was that thing trying to make me go mad by moving the trash bag, appearing right in front of me, and making it seem like I dreamt it, so it can take me easily? Those are the questions that will probably never get an answer. No one believes me. I don't even know if I believe myself anymore. Maybe I'm just really going crazy. If you have any idea what this thing was, please inform me. And remember, never go too far out into the world.

woods, especially alone. I think every town has urban legends that float around. Although, even as a kid, I never believed them. I always saw them as just silly stories that locals had made up to scare the children. The stories of the creatures at Needlepoint Creek seemed ludicrous to me. I learned later on that I was horribly mistaken. Needle Point Creek is located deep in the woods of Indiana. it wasn't too far from my childhood home. I lived on the edge of town, right about where the woods began. My friends and I would always play in the woods, building forts and climbing trees. We would never go far enough to reach the creek, though. My mother was never the overprotective type, but she forbid that I go deep into the woods with my friends. It's not safe, she said.

I remember always asking why, but she would never tell me. My father once a lot of my father once told me the stories about Needlepoint Creek. Creatures dark as night, with claws sharp as knives, wreak havoc upon lost souls near Needlepoint Creek. Don't ever go there, you understand? He would always tell me. I never believed him. I thought he was only trying to reinforce Mom's rule. As we got older, my friends and I got more and more curious about what the deep woods actually contained. It was the summer of senior year. I was sitting in my room with my friends when Ricky brought up the idea that we travel deep into the woods and camp for one night near the creek. Are you crazy? Ben asked.

Our parents warned us never to go there. You just want to have a sleep over there like it's no big deal? Oh, come on, Ben, I blurted out. This could be our last summer here. Don't you want to find out if the rumors are true? Besides, maybe you'll finally find a girlfriend there. I teased. Ha ha, you're so funny, he shot back.

Fine, but for one night only, and you have to do my homework for a week. Deal. I smirked and shook his hand. June 15th, around 3 p.m., we set off into the woods, armed only with camping gear and determination. At about two miles in, the trail ended abruptly into thick brush and woodland. Looks like we're going to have to rough it from here, Ricky said. said, let's do this, I said, determined. It was hard to maneuver over the uneven ground covered with decaying leaves and tree roots. We reached a river that had been dried out long ago,

leaving a deep hole in its path that extended for miles. I spotted a fallen tree that fit perfectly over the edge. Not to worry, boys, I think I just found our way across. Ricky made it across just fine. Come on, guys, it's not so bad. bad. Ben began to panic. No, guys, I don't have good balance. I don't think I should. Listen, man, the log is wide enough. If you're careful, you won't even have to worry. You can do this, okay? I reassured him. Okay, he hesitated. He began to cross nervously. He reached about halfway, and then I watched in horror as his body shifted in a way that looked like he was being pushed by an invisible force. lost his footing and fell into the ravine. His body hit the rocky ground below with a sharp thud.

I screamed, Ben, are you okay? I found a way to lower myself to the bottom. When I reached him, his body was curled into a ball and he was holding his leg and crying. I just broke my leg, he choked. Ricky muttered, we have to go back. How do you suppose we do that? I questioned. Ben can't exactly walk at the moment, and we can't just leave him here. Okay, maybe we could carry him. You know, like on our backs or something, Ricky said, panicked. Okay, but how would we even get him out of this ravine? I have a rope in my bag, Ben groaned.

You could tie it around my waist and pull me out that way. The process of getting Ben out of there was excruciating. Ricky and I tied a makeshift harness around his body. Ricky climbed up the rock wall and began pulling up the rope. I stayed behind to guide him. I told you we shouldn't have done this. Ben cried out in pain as his limb hit the rock wall. I'm sorry, Ben.

I promise, but we're going to get you out of this. I felt awful. Once we got Ben to the surface, Ricky and I threw each of his arms over our shoulders. With the inevitable darkness of night looming over us, we began heading to the direction we came from. Ben yelped in pain with every step. We walked about a mile and then came across a stretch of bushes.

I'll go see what's on the other side before we dragged Ben through there, Ricky said. He disappeared into the bushes for a moment. It went silent. Ricky? I called out. No response. Come on, man, this isn't fun. You guys aren't going to believe this, he said as he appeared from the bushes.

What are you talking about? We must have circled back around or something, he said. What do you mean? I asked, alarmed. I don't know. We're back at the ravine. That's impossible. We went straight through, I almost shouted.

If you don't believe me, you can take a look for yourself. I pushed through the bushes, and sure enough, we were back at the ravine. Suddenly, everything was quiet. Hey, guys, are you back there? No response. Guys. Suddenly, I heard giggling. But there was something off about it.

It almost didn't sound human. Ben, Ricky, is that you? The laughing turned to a low growl. I ran back through the other side. Why do you look so scared? Ben asked. Yeah, why do you look so scared, Isaac? Ricky smirked. I don't know.

I guess there's an animal back there or something. I think you're just imagining things. I didn't hear anything, Ricky said as he stared past me. We headed through the brush, yet again, trying to find our way out. About a half a mile later, we came into the same patch of bushes. Okay, I know for sure we didn't circle around. This isn't possible, Ben yelled. I don't know what's happening.

I began to panic. Ricky said something. Stay here. I'm going to find a way. out of here, I told them. I ran through the woodland, trying not to trip. I found myself back in front of the bushes. What? I shouted. I ran in a different direction. Back at the bushes. I ran again and again and found myself in those same bushes each time. Guys, I think we're somehow stuck in a loop. I tried to catch my breath. That's not possible, Ben said in disbelief.

I don't know, okay? All I know is I tried every direction, and every direction led me back here. I don't know what's going on, but for right now, there's no way out. I tried to come to terms with it, as the words left my mouth. What are we going to do? he cried. I don't know, but for right now, our best bet is to try to stay calm and set up camp while we figure this out. Ricky and I set up the tent that we brought with us. I built a fire, then tried my best to stabilize Ben's wound with a first aid kit that I had taken from my parents' closet.

Hey, Isaac, Ben said, as I was wrapping his legs in gauze. Yeah? What if our parents were right? He said. What do you mean? I asked. About the creatures. What if that's what's happening right now?

That's not possible. Those are just silly kid's stories. I tried to reassure him. But I had a feeling in the pit of my cat. gut that I was wrong. Night fell over us in a blanket of darkness. We all sat around a fire to keep warm. Ricky stared off into the darkness. We should just accept it, he said in a trance-like state. Um, except what? I said, concerned. We're never getting out of here. They're coming for us. They're going to take us, and we should accept it. Who's they? I asked, frightened.

Them, he replied as he pointed into the darkness. You know something, Isaac? He continued, reaching into his bag. What are you talking about? I said, on edge. The creatures really aren't that bad. In fact, he said calmly as he began to pull a fishing knife out of his bag. Ricky, what are you doing with that? I panicked. I think we should embrace them.

He laughed and I watched in shock as he lurched. forward and got Ben in the stomach. I heard Ben's scream. No, I screamed. The next few seconds passed by in slow motion. I ran toward him and tried to tackle him. With almost inhuman strength, Ricky threw me into a tree. I felt my skull hit the base of the tree, and everything went black. I woke up, slumped against the tree. My eyes fluttered open as I saw Ricky crying next to Ben's body. What have I done? He sobbed. They made me do this, he screamed. Who made you do what? I choked. The creatures. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but they made me. His face was smeared with blood. I tried to sit up. It's okay. We can fix this. I tried to calm him. No, we can't. Ben is gone.

They made me kill him. And now, he stood up. They're going to. They're going to. They're going to make me get you too. He cried as he headed towards me. Ricky, we can talk through this. I'm your friend, I pleaded. I'm sorry, Isaac. He sobbed as he raised the blade above me. In a split second I saw a large, black, mist-like creature swoop over Ricky. With claws sharp as knives, the creature tore at Ricky. The creature took one final swoop. I began screaming and he was gone. I vomited and began sobbing. I heard the creature let out a shrill screech as it disappeared into the darkness of the night. Take me too, I cried, not wanting to live with what I just witnessed. Eventually, I decided to try to walk back home. The way back was difficult because

of my concussion, but I was no longer stuck in a loop. I reached my house. My mother screamed when she saw that I was covered in blood. She cried as she held me. You went into the woods, didn't you? I just stared at the wall, in shock, trying to process everything. No one except for my mother believes me about the horrors of that day. I write this from prison. I'm being held on two counts of first-degree murder. I don't know why the creature decided to let me live. It would have been kinder to take me too. I guess I'll never know. I'm an innocent man. You, dear reader, may not believe me, or maybe you do, whatever you choose to believe.

I ask that you please, beware the creatures of Needlepoint Creek. When I was a young kid, around the age of my earliest memories, so probably four or five, I had trouble sleeping. I don't have a great memory about most things, but I remember my sleep troubles, probably better than anything else I do from that age. I was an only child, I'm adopted, and I lived in a small, older home with my parents. Living room, tiny kitchen, two small bedrooms, and one bathroom to share.

Not exactly a mansion, but one of the upsides for a little kid of not being well off is that it meant my parents were never more than 10 feet away in our tiny little house. One of my first memories is running into my parents' room and telling them about the faces I saw while I was laying in bed. I still remember cuddling up with my favorite stuffed animal, a care bear of all things, for what felt like hours every night trying and failing to go to sleep. I would just stare up at the ceiling, and while I did, it was like a parade of faces would slide in and out of my vision.

The faces were a mix of contorted but normal people, and the typical scary things a kid might see in movies. Vampires, werewolves, creepy old women. They would just start at the top of my field of vision and go sliding to the bottom, sort of like a weird 3D movie without the funny glasses. Obviously, this was terrifying to a little kid. Most of the time, I would hide under the blankets and hope to eventually find. fall asleep. But some nights were harder than the rest. The night I went running into their room, clutching my care bear, the first time I really fought the fear. I tried to desperately explain to

them what was happening. Of course, they told me I was having a bad dream, and that I would be fine, and they tucked me back in my bed, and my mom sat with me for a little while. I slept with the TV static on that night, and before long, that was the only way I could go to bed at night. I But even as a little kid, I knew I wasn't dreaming. I hadn't been asleep, and I hadn't woken up. It was happening to me while I was awake. And it continued. Sometimes better, or sometimes worse, for months or even years.

I'm 31 now, with a family of my own. Looking back, I know I was going through night terrors and probably sleep paralysis. I'm a very critical science-drip. science-driven person, and I'm not particularly religious. I don't think it was anything more than that, and I know my parents did the best they could. They probably have never even heard of the term night terrors or sleep paralysis. It got somewhat better with time, but I will never be able to forget how it felt, feels, I should say. I've struggled with them on and off in my adult life,

and unfortunately, it's become more and more common over the last few years. years. It's really hard to explain the differences between a night terror and a normal nightmare if you haven't experienced it. But you know how nightmares can be scary, and then you wake up and need a few seconds to settle yourself? I've had plenty of nightmares. Frankly, they don't bother me that much, and I feel fine as soon as I wake up from them. But night terrors are completely different. I would wake up screaming, but not at anything in particular. My body was completely pumped full of adrenaline. The fight or flight mode engaged in the only way that it could be when your body knows you're facing imminent danger.

But the worst part is what it does to your mind. There's no rational thought for a solid minute or two upon waking up. I wish I was better with the words to describe it, but it's pure terror. I can't reason myself out of it. I can't take deep breaths to calm down. I can't do anything but grasp and try to slowly stop the screaming or the whimpering it turns into after a few seconds.

My muscles on fire like I've just finished a marathon. Anyway, I would suggest never having night terrors. For better or worse, I've gotten as used to it as possible. Like I said, I struggled with it a lot as a kid, but it's becoming much more rare as an adult, until the last few years, when it's become a little more frequent, I would only have one or two episodes a year. I'm sorry if I'm giving too many details, but I feel like it's important context to understand the reason why I'm posting this here. I don't remember exactly

when it started, but my trouble when I was a kid didn't stop when I would finally fall asleep. I don't usually remember my dreams or even my nightmares after a few minutes, but there's one or two dreams I'll never forget, much as I wish I could or try to convince myself I have. Because I had the same nightmare, almost every single night, for months, it always began the exact same way. I'd be sitting on the back porch of our little house. Like I said, the house was tiny, one of many small, Some run down, houses in the neighborhood.

Our back door had three wood steps leading down into the yard. Turned to the left, and a few feet away was the side of a house where my parents kept the trash cans, and where you could turn and walk back toward the front gate. To the right from the door was the driveway that came into the backyard and the outside garage. And if you looked straight out from the porch, there was maybe 10 feet of backyard. Then a chain-link fence with a gate that ran from my neighbor's wooden fence on one side to the edge of the garage on the other, gating off the rest of the yard that went 50 feet or so back. This is where I would begin my dream, the only dream that ever mattered every single time. I'd be on the back porch, and it was 1203, dark but with enough pale light to see the gray shape of my yard around me, almost like the light of the moon I never seen.

saw. I'll never know how I knew, or if it took many iterations of the dream for me to learn. But what I remember now is that I knew that at 1207, they would come for me. As a kid, I always thought of them as werewolves, but I know that I never actually saw them, nor do I even remember them having a defined form from what I can recall. They would come from the left side of the house, and they would grab me. It felt like my entire body would be grabbed at once, and I would wake up screaming, sweating, and crying for my mom. Normal night terror stuff, right? I always tried to rationalize it that way, at least. But like I said, this wasn't like any other nightmare, because every few nights, the dream would begin again.

The back porch, 12.03. Screen door locked behind me. The trash cans to the side of the house. The driveway were during the day I'd shoot hockey puck at the garage door and the red curtain. It's the red curtain that made all the difference in the world. Remember I said there was a fence that blocked off half of the backyard? In the dream, that fence was gone. In its place was a bright red curtain.

The kind you'd find on stage or at a movie theater. The world around me shines silvery in a pale light of the moon. I now realize I never looked up. I never looked up to find, but the curtain was bright red. It had a slight part at the top, a few feet to my left if I was looking out from the porch. Through the few feet of open space at the top, but not at the bottom, I could see what looked like daylight, and the branches of the tree we had behind where the fence slash curtain stood. Staring at dark, scary images was my nightly ritual, followed by waking up on the back porch. That sliver of daylight felt familiar. It felt like

home. I desperately wanted to reach it, but I never could, because when I walked to that curtain to try to find the seam that went to that part at the top, it didn't exist, or maybe it did, and I just never found it. Instead, I would pull on the curtain and try to open it at the split. It would just keep billowing out. I'd pull and pull, and there was always more red curtain. It would eventually envelop me. In a panic, trying to reach that sliver of daylight that felt like home, I would always fail, and then they would be there, grabbing me and sending me back to my bed, screaming, clutching my bear. Reoccurring dreams are a known phenomenon, and if every night I woke up fighting the curtain,

I could rationalize this a lot better as an adult, but I didn't have the same dream every night. I mean, I did. The porch, the light, the curtain, but it never felt the same, because every night when I'd go back, that sliver of light at the top of the curtain would just be a little narrower,

a little more unreachable, and eventually I knew where I was. I don't know that I ever ran. recognized I was in a dream. After all, I could have chosen to fly or whatever, had I been truly lucid, but I always knew I was back in the same place, at the same time, and I knew what would happen to me. I tried a hundred different ways to go through the red curtain. I tried climbing it. I tried going at it from the other side. I tried going around, only to find myself thoroughly blocked by a wall of a fence on my left and the garage on my right. And every time I failed,

that sliver of hope at the top would grow smaller, inch by inch. I couldn't tell you how long this lasted. For all I know, it was a couple of months, or a few dozen times, becoming aware of myself on the porch at 1203, or it could have been years. The dreams were more spaced out. Like I said, I don't have a great memory of when I was that young, but I remember when the dreams finally stopped. I don't remember how many times I tried that curtain, but I know it wasn't every time I entered that dream. Other times I would try to escape in a different direction, or even out the side where they came from. Nothing ever worked, and they all ended up the same way, with the sensation of being squeezed from all around and waking up in my bed in terror. I wish I had some heroic stories.

of how I made it end, of how I stood up to the fear and declared it had no power of me. That's what always worked in the movies, but that's not what happened. Instead, I hid. Of course, I had tried before by cowering under the boards of the porch, where by day I would dig up worms, and by night I would hunker down, wishing I could live under the dirt the way they did. But hiding there never worked. 12.07 would come. I'd hear footsteps coming from the side of the house, and a few seconds later,

it would be over. It ended the night I threw myself into the trash can. I don't know if it was a coincidence, me finding something to overcome the mental hurdle, or something else, but I threw myself into the metal trash can and covered myself with all of the boxes inside. I remember staring up at the now tiny sliver of light at the top of the curtain, as I pulled the lid over my head, and I remember the footsteps passing me by for the first time ever. I never had that dream again after that night, not once in my life. Most of the time I can pretend it never happened,

and avoid the chill I have now from recalling all of it again. But as I said, earlier tonight, it all came rushing back. I had a normal night with my family, and I tucked my son to sleep at 7.30. as usual. Unfortunately, night terrors seem to have a genetic component to them, and my son may have inherited something I never wanted to give to him. He's almost four now, and has had a hard time sleeping his entire life. He wakes up at night in a sweat, screaming. When he was younger, he could never articulate what it was that scared him, and we chalked it up to nightmares, or possibly even

night terrors. When my son was old enough to talk, he would say he doesn't like to sleep because it's scary, which is what he always says to try to get out of doing something he doesn't want to do. Anyway, we brought this up to the doctor, who said there aren't really any answers to what causes night terrors, nor are there really any treatments. So when my son woke up crying tonight, a few hours after going to sleep, As he does on way too many nights, I went in to soothe him back to sleep, feeling guilty as always, that it's probably due to me in some way he inherited this.

But tonight was different. As I set him down, he said something that chilled me to the bone and brought back a wave of memories I wish I didn't have. Dad, I'm scared of the red curtain. Sometimes when I've had a really rough day and I'm having troubles relaxing, I go for a drive to clear my mind. There's something about driving down the back gravel roads that soothes me. I admit, it can be a little creepy at times.

It can be spooky driving in the middle of nowhere, only able to see as far as your headlights allow. The trees hiding whatever could be lurking just beyond your line of vision. What's even scarier is hearing something in the car with you when you know you're alone. Last night, I was looking for a way to calm down after working a stressful 12-hour shift. I got home around 7.30 p.m., made and ate some dinner, then watched TV in bed, trying to get some sleep, to do it all over again the next day. I tried to sleep for over four hours, tossing and turning,

unable to sleep. Sometime past midnight, frustrated, I got out of bed and grabbed my car key, I stormed out the front door and hopped in my beat-up Jeep, speeding out of the driveway. I was angrily muttering to myself about how I can't just roll over and sleep like a normal person. After 10 minutes of driving, I found myself down one of my go-to back roads. It's more of a two-track, surrounded by dense pine trees. I like this road because it's spooky. The trees are dense. you can't see 10 feet into the woods, letting my imagination run wild.

I had to slow down to around 25 miles an hour to safely navigate without hitting anything. I turned the radio all the way down, turning my full attention to the thin road in front of me. Just as I started to get that eerie feeling, my car radio blared as loud as it could. A talk radio station had somehow popped on, even though I was listening to 80's rock before. I jumped, scrambling to turn the volume down. Before my hand found the volume knob, the radio cut out completely. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion, looking at the radio as if it had a mind of its own. All of the sudden, a wave of dread hit me like a ton of bricks.

The hair on my arms and neck stood on end, my heart beginning to race uncontrollably. It got so quiet I could hear my heartbeat, thumping in my ears. After a few seconds of that eerie silence, I started hearing something behind me, in the back seat. It sounded like someone was pushing down into the back seat, like suddenly a lot of weight pushed it down. A loud pop made me jump a little, grabbing the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles hurt. I started to feel a presence, like someone or something was in the car with me. I could feel it get closer, like it was leaning in to whisper something in. in my ear. I noticed movement in my rearview mirror as well. Something was definitely in my back

seat. A deep breath exhaled, blowing its breath right in my ear. I was completely paralyzed in fear, not knowing how to react. I was still driving down the road, but maybe at five miles an hour. I was too afraid to turn around and see what was behind me. I had this gut feeling that if I turned around, something bad would happen. Hello. A muffled voice called in my ear. Its voice sent shivers down my spine. It sounded like an old woman.

If she were trying to speak while covering her mouth, it started to breathe deep, raspy breaths in my ear, as if it was out of breath and struggling to breathe. Its breath smelled like rotting eggs, making me almost gag. Every now and then, I could see movement in my eyes. rear view mirror as it shifted around. Look at me, please. The muffled voice said after a few seconds of breathing down my neck, I ignored it, kept my eyes straight forward. Finally, I could

see the driveway about 20 feet ahead to my left. Once I got to it, I pulled in and turned the car around as calmly as I could. Look at me. It growled. My muscles tensed as it spoke. It was even scarier sounding when angry. I managed not to jerk the steering wheel and successfully turned around. I noticed I was driving a little too quickly for the road I was on, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to get back to the main road where there were other people, if I was lucky enough to make it that far. I felt pressure on my shoulder as it must have grabbed me. Its fingers felt incredibly bony and shaky.

I stayed driving straight and tried not to let it affect me. There was now jerky movements that I could see in the reflection of the mirror, like it was having a seizure or something. The fingers dug into my shoulder, making me wince and pain. Look at me. It growled in my ear again, taking deep breaths in between each word. I noticed my foot consistently pressing the gas pedal harder. I glanced at the speedometer and saw now I was going forward.

50 miles an hour, speeding as I went around turns. I have never wanted out of the back woods so badly in my life. Somehow, I was able to keep the car in control, avoiding the trees that were just feet from my front end. At one point, my tail end clipped a tree as I slid. I kept driving as fast as I could. Its fingers were digging so hard in my shoulder that it was getting harder to make the turns. Up ahead, I saw the stop sign and I almost cried out in joy. The same cracking noise from earlier rang through the car. I could hear the pressure of my back seat, leave, as well as the heavy feeling of dread that hung in the air. I didn't even notice I was holding my breath until then, taking a huge breath as I blew through the stop sign. I noticed

a tear was rolling down my cheek as well. I could tell by the atmosphere. in the air that whatever was in my back seat was now gone. I sped the whole way home, not stopping at any stop signs on the way. I'd never felt so much relief in my life, as I did in that moment I pulled in my driveway. I slammed the shifter in park and bolted inside, panting heavily. I checked the doors and windows twice before retreating to my room, making sure the whole house was locked up. Needless to say, I just, didn't get much sleep after that. I sat wondering what that was all night. The next day was a long, horrible, 12-hour shift. I was more than thrilled when 7.30 came and I could clock out. I knew I'd

struggle sleeping again, but one thing is for sure, I won't be taking a nighttime drive to help me relax. I don't know what that was, but I pray I never encounter it again. I live in the western suburbs of Boston. I realize I'm not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes it sort of feels like I am. My street is even located between two relatively major roads. However, there's also a lot of farmland in the area, and it's a pretty wooded area too. In fact, my backyard is right on the edge of the woods. There's some trails back there that I've explored, as well as a few other trails nearby. There's a few stone walls and old direction markers back there, but other than that, not a whole lot. Due to the fact that I basically live in the woods, I see a lot of animals in my neighborhood.

Aside from the standard squirrels, chipmunks, and birds, I tend to see a lot of rabbits, deer, wild turkey, raccoons, and a few possums, and even the occasional fox. However, I've started seeing coyotes in the area, and I'm worried that there might be. be more to them than they appear. On the other side of the woods from me, there's a house. It's not part of my neighborhood, and I actually think it's another town since I'm right on the line. During the fall and winter, when the leaves are down, it's very easy to see through the woods to that house, and I notice they tend to keep weird and inconsistent hours.

Sometimes the house has every light off as soon as the sun goes down, and sometimes they're up until about 3 a.m. Sometimes I'm just getting up in the morning, someone is leaving for work, and sometimes there's no sign of any movement from there in the mornings. They also have a light on their roof that I later found out is one of those old chicken-shaped weather veins that for some reason lights up at night. Nothing too unusual about that, except sometimes I see it flashing on and off all night, and sometimes multiple nights in a row. I've never actually spoken to any of the people that live there, and I barely even speak to anyone in my own neighborhood. However, one person who I have spoken to a bit is my next-door neighbor, Roger. He's an elderly man, probably in his 70s, and I think

he's a widower. He has too much time on his hands, as I often see him doing lots of yard work, even though the neighborhood has a service that does that for us. He's also known to take on projects in other people's yards as well, and do work in communal areas. This includes simple stuff, like taking people's trash cans to the curb, to their garage after the trash pickup has occurred, to larger stuff, such as trimming tree branches.

I've joked that he's the unofficial caretaker of the neighborhood. I don't really talk to Roger often, but one time he told me that the people, who live in the house on the other side of the woods are Native American. For some reason, I thought that might explain some stuff I've seen in the woods. See, I neglect to mention this before, but there's this crudely made tepee out of branches right off the trail. It's not really big enough for anyone to go into, but it's kind of cool. I have no idea who built it, but it's been back there for at least five years I've lived here.

There's some rocks in front of it in a fire pit style. pit style, but they seem to change positions sometimes. And I've also seen what looked like beer cans from the 1970s in the vicinity. I wonder if that's when the TP was built. I'm not saying the Native Americans that live in the house are definitely behind the teepee, but it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities. Some of the old trailstone markers have what could be Native American drawings on them too, but again, anyone could have done that. I don't know whether the Native American are responsible for the stuff in the woods or not, but I think they might have something to do

with the increased presence of coyotes. As I'm sure many of you are aware, there's a thing called a skinwalker in Native American folklore in case anyone isn't familiar with them. Supposedly, certain Native Americans can take on the form of an animal by wearing the pelt of their fur. I've typically seen them portrayed as taking the form of wolves or coyotes, but I'm not sure if they're able to take on the form of other mammals

too. When I first saw the coyotes, I didn't immediately make the connection. It was late August, and I was driving home one evening, just as the sun was starting to set. As I rounded the corner towards my street, I saw what were two coyotes walking down the road. They definitely weren't foxes, and I'm pretty sure wolves don't live around here. So they must have been coyotes. I had never seen a coyote around my house in the five years I've lived here, but I've always suspected they were around. I used to live a few towns over and I'd occasionally see one there, and more often than not, I'd hear them howling. I actually thought it was kind of cool at first, as I love seeing animals. A few nights later, I was chilling on my back patio when I heard rustling coming from the woods.

This wouldn't be the first time an animal in the woods scared me at nighttime. One time I was in my backyard in October. No doubt, having just watched a slasher movie when I heard what sounded like heavy footsteps in the woods, it ended up just being a deer, but as you can imagine, the whole thing was a bit freaky, if only for a little while. This time, though, it was a coyote that walked out of the woods. I have no idea if it was one of the ones I had seen earlier in the day, or a different one, but it walked towards my patio and just stood there for a second. I tried to take a picture, but all of the sudden it ran off back into the woods. As I went back inside, I noticed an outline of Roger standing at his back door. I wondered if he was watching the coyote

too. I didn't realize this until later, but the outdoor lights of the Native American house had been on the whole time. It was at this point that I made the connection between the coyote and the Native Americans, and I started talking to my friend about the possibility of Skinwalkers being in the area. Of course, my friend didn't really take me very seriously, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I took myself seriously. We both like to entertain the possibility of certain aspects of paranormal, including the existence of cryptozoology creatures, like skinwalkers, and related creatures such as flesh gates or the goat man, but lack any concrete evidence. The next day, I saw Roger working in his garden, and I asked him if he had ever seen him,

coyotes in the area. He said not for several years, but he was noticing them coming back. He also warned me to be careful if I saw them and not to get too close as they're prone to attacking. He seemed almost worried as he told me this. That night, I was back on my patio when I started to hear wrestling from the woods again. The sounds were coming from various spots in the woods, but I wasn't able to see anything. I then started to hear howling, some sort of noise that sounded like it was very close to me, while others sounded further away. I noticed every single light on at the Native American house

on the other side of the woods too, and was wondering if they were behind this after all. Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a loud bang, almost like a gunshot, and the howling stopped, followed by every single light at the house going off at once. I sat there for a few seconds when I noticed Roger standing in his backyard, Get back inside, he told me.

What's going on? I asked him. Get back inside, he repeated. Offering no explanation. I gathered my things and went back in. I watched out the window for a while and saw Roger standing at the edge of the woods. I realized that he was staring down a coyote. After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, the coyote turned around and left.

Roger stayed there a while longer before going back. inside his house. The next day I tried to get answers, but Roger wouldn't acknowledge what had happened. Several weeks had passed, and I hadn't seen any coyotes or any other odd things going on. By this point, it was early October, and the events in that night in August had become a distant memory. I was coming home from work one evening when I saw Roger out in his garden, like I often did. I waved hello to him, and noticed him waving me over. I won't be able to take care of this neighborhood much longer, he told me. I didn't understand what Roger meant, but he went on to explain that he was planning on moving closer to his children,

and he just didn't have the strength to take care of the neighborhood anymore. I told him that he could always take it easy, and he didn't have to always be out and doing stuff on the street. But he said that's not what he meant. Roger stuck around for the rest of the fall, but one day in early December, he was gone. I didn't even see any moving trucks. It was if he had just packed up and left overnight. I did, however, find a note he left taped to my door. The note read,

I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly, but it's time for me to go now. I felt myself getting weaker this past summer, and I can't stay here much longer. If you see a coyote, don't engage it. If you can, get indoors immediately. Otherwise, remain perfectly still, until it has walked away. Good luck. I thought back to the night in August when the coyotes were coming out of the woods, and Roger seemingly scared them off. I know I had always joked about Roger being the unofficial caretaker of the neighborhood, but what if he was actually responsible for protecting it? What if the Native Americans that live in the house on the other side of the woods have some connection to the skinwalkers, or are skinwalkers themselves? They seem to have some sort of ancient connection to the woods. What if they have the same sort of connection to the land beyond the woods that is my street?

What if Roger's physical presence was able to keep the skinwalkers out of the neighborhood? He mentioned he hadn't seen the coyotes in the area in years and seemed worried when he told me about them showing up again. It was almost as if his power to keep the skinwalkers away was somehow weakening, which is why they were able to show up in the area again. I know he was still able to keep them away that night in August, but the fact that they were able to get so close was a bad sign. That must have been what he meant

when he said he didn't have enough strength to take care of the neighborhood anymore and that he's getting weaker. Maybe he knew that he'd soon be powerless to stop the skinwalkers and left for his own safety. I've been tossing this theory around for over a month now, but this is the first time I had written it down and read it back to myself.

I know it sounds really weird, but the more I think about it, the more I believe it. As much as I like to entertain the existence of the paranormal, I do tend to look for logical explanations for everything, but for this, I have none. The coyotes are getting closer, too. I hadn't seen any for a few weeks since Roger left,

but on January 10th, it was a full moon. They call that one the wolf moon, because supposedly wolves tend to howl more at the moon that time of year than others. I didn't hear any wolves, but I heard something howling that night, and it sent shivers down my spine. This past Tuesday, I was driving home from work when I saw a coyote cross the road on the street right before mine. It seemed to be looking directly at me as it walked by.

On Friday night, I was coming home from work when I saw a coyote standing right in my driveway. I honked my horn and flashed my lights at it, but it just stood there, staring right at me, and growling. There was no way I was getting out of my car, and I sat there for about 10 minutes and even contemplated driving away. But eventually, the coyote walked off. Then last night, it was snowing a bit. I turned on the light in my backyard to see how much snow had fallen, and how heavy it was snowing. When I saw a coyote standing in my backyard, I was able to see the outdoor lights were on at the Native American's house, and their weather vein was blinking like crazy again. I quickly turned off the lights and closed the shades. I took a look in my backyard

this morning and saw there were paw prints in the snow leading towards the woods. The prints, however, stopped just in front of the entrance of the woods, and sets of human-looking footprints appeared ahead of them. I didn't dare follow them. With Roger, the neighborhood guardian, no longer living here, it seemed like there's nothing that will keep the skin walkers out. I don't know what will happen, but it's dark out, and I hear howling coming from the woods again. I want to start this off by stating that I'm a 25-year-old female, and I don't really consider myself to be an expert camper, if that's even a proper term. I'm somewhat of a novice, at least when compared to my boyfriend, who's been on countless of outings all over the country since he was a teen. I would never make it

on my own. While he would probably find a way to send a smoke signal even on a rainy day, I think that should paint a clear enough picture of where we both stand on the subject. But if there's one thing we share in common, it's the fact that we've read and heard about all kinds of strange, creepy, and downright unexplainable things happening in remote locations. Of course, when it comes to the internet, you'll just have to take it all with a grain of salt. But even when it comes to some fellow campers that we've met on the road, you just never know. Sure, they don't really have a reason to lie, but then again, what's the harm? They tell some random nobodies a weird story that they came up with just for kicks, and in the process, they might even get them to scare

themselves later on by overthinking it. Like I said, I'm not an experienced camper, but I'm no stranger to it either. Anyone that's ever gone camping will likely tell you that it's only natural to hear something weird every now and then. But hey, that's just nature for you. You eventually get over it, as my boyfriend said, but I'm pretty sure there's no getting over what happened to us. It happened on the second night of what was supposed to be a four-day trip. The first thing I recall is suddenly waking up in the middle of the night with the weirdest sensation, almost as if I hadn't been sleeping at all before that, which is just weird to me. I heard, heard some noise right outside our tent, and upon realizing my boyfriend wasn't next to me,

I quickly came to the conclusion that the leaking sound outside was, well, him taking a leak. No big mystery there, no reason to freak out. He had gotten up to take a leak, and likely tried his best to make as little noise as possible, but because I have yet to get used to this sort of environment, I guess I can't help waking up due to the slightest thing, whether it's a sound of a sound. sound, an itch or whatever. It wasn't his fault, I thought, just as I was about to roll over and go back to sleep. But I couldn't roll over. I couldn't move. It didn't make sense to me, which was a good enough reason for me to start freaking out, if only fear hadn't gotten to me

first. Just as soon as the words sleep paralysis popped in my head, I realized what was really going on. It's not that I couldn't literally move because my body wasn't responding. because I could tell that it was with what little sensation I had left before the chills took over. But rather, something was keeping me in place with the strangest, but firmest grip. I could clearly feel the pressure-like sensation, mostly on my arms, wrist and shoulders, and legs, occurring almost instantly whenever I tried to shift my position in any way I could, and prevented me from doing so. Just as I was about to call out to my boyfriend, however,

A pressure manifested itself right in the back of my neck, almost as if a weight had been dropped on it. What's more, another familiar yet eerily distinct sensation appeared to cover my mouth. It felt cold, bony and dry, like a branch or something like that. But even in that near darkness, my boyfriend had lit up a small lamp outside. I could see that there wasn't anything on me, and yet I couldn't bring myself to utter a single word. I could barely make a sound in my desperate state, and the more I tried to fend off this invisible force, the harder its grasp got. I did whatever I could, but it wasn't until I heard the voice that I stopped completely,

out of fear more than anything else. Thank you, it said, almost like a raspy whisper, traveling along with the night breeze. My eyes quickly shifted to where my boyfriend was, right outside the tent. It couldn't have been him. knew it couldn't have been him. The voice didn't belong to him, but whose could it be? Even in my current state, I was able to tell there wasn't anyone else inside the tent with me, but all signs seemed to indicate the very different reality than the one I was experiencing. Warm, so warm, it continued. It took me a moment, but once I added the voice, on top of all of the other

weird things that happened, since I woke up, I instantly realized, that those pressure-like sensations that were keeping me put, felt a lot like hands and fingers holding me down, same as the ones over my neck and mouth. Thank you for being warm. By this point, tears were already streaming down my face as hundreds of thoughts flashed before my mind, each one darker than the last. My boyfriend eventually walked back inside the tent, completely oblivious to what I was going through. I tried to get his attention, But sadly, eyes looking out of their sockets due to absolute terror isn't something that makes a whole lot of noise. He just lay down next to me, unaware of it all.

I can't blame him. I mean, from his perspective, he had gotten up to take a leak and had no reason to believe he had woke me up in the process. I feared he was just going to fall asleep and leave me alone with whatever was happening. But then he mumbled something. I waited, not that there was much else for me to do. do. Yeah? He asked.

After another brief pause, he continued, Babe, what is it? Stop nudging me. But I wasn't. I wasn't doing anything. Because I couldn't. And if it wasn't me. He finally turned to face me, but as soon as our eyes met,

and he had saw the terror that had taken a hold of me, I saw him fall victim to the exact same thing. Unable to move and unable to speak. just like me. All I could do was lock eyes with his gaze as it gradually showed confusion, frustration, and finally, fear. All so warm. The voice spoke again, and judging my boyfriend's reaction, I could tell that he heard it too. I wasn't crazy. Something was really going on, and whatever it was, we were completely powerless against it. I don't know exactly how long we stayed there just like like that, completely motionless, staring into each other's eyes with tears rolling down our cheeks, unable to comfort one another when we were so certain that our lives were about

to end. I lost track of time. It had become meaningless, especially with the voice constantly spewing crazy nonsense right into our ears throughout our entire ordeal, as if someone else was right in between the two of us. Thank you. Thank you for being so warm. so, so warm. My boyfriend and I eventually snapped back into reality almost at the exact same time. By then, it was already morning, but we could tell that we hadn't gotten a second of sleep. Just by looking at each other's faces, we knew we both had experienced the same thing, for real. It hadn't been a nightmare or a shared delusion of any kind. We quickly packed up our things and got out of there, while barely exchanging any words.

On our way back, we came across an officer from the U.S. Forest Service, who was able to tell, almost instantly, that something bad had happened to us. My boyfriend tried to shrug it off. He just wanted to get out of there and go home. But I couldn't help myself and blurted out some things about what had happened. I didn't even think. It probably all sounded like gibberish from a crazy lady, talking about a mysterious presence that got inside her tent,

but the officer kept a calm, respectful, yet somehow somber, faced throughout the entire exchange. First, he made sure that we weren't in need of any urgent medical attention, and then he called for a vehicle to come and pick us up before dropping us off at one of their small offices located nearby. He told us that we didn't have to do it if we didn't want to, but that he would greatly appreciate it if we could each provide a separate statement in regards to what happened that night.

My boyfriend declined and insisted for me to do the same, but I didn't listen to him. After what we'd been through, it felt good having other people around you, ready to hear you out, and not dismiss you right away. What's more? I could tell from my boyfriend's behavior that this is the sort of thing that he would just put a lid on and never bring up again. So, if I was ever going to talk openly about it, and hope to get some of the same thing, kind of an explanation in return. It was now or never. Plus, the whole thing was relatively fresh in my mind, for better or worse, so I just had to do it. The officer was really cool and respectful,

and I hope I'm not getting anyone in trouble by saying this, but I recorded most of our conversation with my phone without his knowledge or consent. I know it's probably against the law, but the reason I did it is because I wanted to make sure that I didn't forget any of the things he told me. You'll have to forgive me for that, but please do take into consideration my state of mind at the time. I was still somewhat out of it, not to mention the fact that we hadn't gotten any sleep or rest the night before either, so I was just making sure that I kept a proper record of it all for posterity, since I couldn't trust my brain to take note of all of the things he said and remember them down the line. I'm leaving out names, dates, and actual locations for that purpose alone,

to avoid getting anyone in trouble. Once I finished telling him the whole thing from beginning to end, he asked me to mark the location of our map as accurately as possible on one of his maps. I gave him the precise location, and right after doing so, he drew a circular radius around it,

which perplexed me a little. The more I studied his pensive expression, the more convinced I became that this wasn't anything new to him. In fact, not only was this not new, It was also something that required some actual on-the-field work from him, which left me somewhat distraught. After all, if you tell most people a similar story to what happened to us,

they would just shrug it off as it being your imagination's fault, I think. When I politely asked him what the deal was, he apologized, said it was nothing, and that they would take over from there and comb over the area to see if they'd find anything. I didn't believe him, and called him out on it before. I even realized it, much to my shame. But he was very understandable, and this is where I'll quote some of the things he said to me. Look, I've been doing this for quite a while, and I've heard and seen all sorts of things. I can't tell you anything more than that, because it wouldn't be right, you understand? It wouldn't be fair to you. You just experience something you can't quite logically,

rationally explain, and now you want answers. I get that, but I'm not in a position. to give those to you. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe it wasn't. What I'm trying to say is it's part of our job to shoulder that burden. It's not yours to carry. Many campers lose their lives each year, most in unfortunate but preventable accidents, while others. And then there's those who happen to experience some things that just make them come out of the woods all shell-shocked and the like, but certain that they'll never set foot in a similar setting ever again. again for as long as they breathe. You're all right, miss, a little shaken, a little dehydrated, but you're all right.

You're going to be okay. You and your partner. And that really is the only thing that matters. You're alive. You're okay. And the only thing that I wish for you is, for you to forget about what happened, no matter how hard or impossible the idea may seem to you at this time. No, it's not worth it.

Trust me on this one. If you try to figure things out on your own, not that I'm saying that there are things that need figuring out, mind you. You'll keep on spiraling down an endless rabbit hole. It's not worth it. What happened to you could have happened to anyone else. You just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not about you.

And it has nothing to do with you. That much I can assure you, but you best be certain that we'll take care of it. It's what we do. When I asked him if he had ever seen or heard similar reports of what he would have. what I had described, he made a little grimace, clearly trying to fight off the urge to tell me more than he should. He had waved his hand, declining to answer, but knowing as well as I did that he had answered me in the process. Finally, when I asked him if I could leave my contact number for him to call me at a later time, maybe once the issue was resolved, and he could tell me about it, his response was very swift and pointless to contest.

No, I'm sorry, but no. You've done more than enough. In fact, you've helped us out tremendously. Thank you for your time. Afterwards, they drove us all the way out of the area and dropped us near the city from where we eventually made our way back home. It's been a little weird ever since,

with my boyfriend not wanting to discuss these events, as if he's pretending that nothing happened at all. I can't tell if this whole thing just scared him to his core, or if there's something more to it. Either way, it helps being back in the city and being surrounded by all of this noise and people, but I don't know what's next for me. Part of me wants to follow the officer's advice. I'll admit that I'm still as curious as ever, cautiously so.

But I know the man was not only speaking truthfully, but from experience as well. I really want to let it go, because that's probably for the best. But it's not that easy, especially with the internet at your disposal just a couple of swipes away. and a whole world of information and people out there, ready to share their stories and knowledge with you. This incident might have put my boyfriend off from camping for a little while, maybe permanently for all I know,

but I can't say the same for me, I think. Maybe someday I'll go back, on my own. I really don't know why I would, but that's just the me talking right now. Who knows? In time, I might just find a good enough reason. I'm a private guard in a European country. My job is mainly at night, as I usually patrol the streets with my car.

Here, the law about guns are quite restricted compared to the U.S. Our job is to prevent and report crimes to the actual police. We carry guns, but in fact we can't use them, as they are a mere dissuader to hostile subjects. My nights are made of me driving around, checking the outside of commercial buildings, and answering alarms when needed. Usually in isolated places where cars don't usually pass by.

My area is quite cold and humid, and it is not uncommon during the winter nights that a strong fog covers the streets, buildings and entire villages, like in Silent Hill, a fog that would make you think everything is possible in those dark, isolated places. That night, I was doing my usual routine.

I've almost finished my patrol, I was driving on an isolated road to reach one of the last clients, a warehouse for I don't know what kind of stuff. It was a secondary road running in the fields, nothing but grass and bushes on the sides of the street. As usual, this time of year, the strong fog didn't let me see the road in front of me for more than several feet. Slowly, I was driving to the building, nothing but fog in the distant light of the warehouse in front of me.

I was tired. The last coffee I had was consumed more than two hours before, and staying focused wasn't easy. Suddenly, a figure just a bit smaller than a human being, crossed the road in front of me. The fog didn't let me see details. It was very fast, running like a dog. But for sure, that unnatural pose and dimensions weren't like any animal had ever seen in my career. and I've seen deer, cats, once even a small bear crossing my path. Nothing like that, something vaguely similar to a human. I stopped the car immediately. I didn't know what I saw, but it for sure wasn't normal.

My job was to repeat irregular detail during the patrol, but what should I say to the station? I saw something for a few seconds in front of my car's light, really? Something very vivid, but that could be influenced by my tired brain? They probably would laugh at me in the best case scenario, suggest me to stop drinking on the job and the worse. I decided to go on and reach to the isolated building. As always, I left my car open,

took my flashlight out with me in the shadows. I recognized with my hand the correct key to put in the gate of the building and started my search. I didn't turn on the light inside the car. I know every part of it, just by memory. I made my patrol by foot around the warehouse. checked every door, and after almost five minutes, I got in my car. I put away the key without using the light.

I got on the road again, same fog, but this time nothing unusual on the road. The air in the car was oddly cold. The heater was pumping warm air in the vehicle, and the windows were closed, but I really couldn't understand why it was that cold. And then a noise seemed to come from the car. I've never been a mechanic guy. I don't understand anything about cars or engines. I just drive them.

But that noise didn't sound like anything I've ever heard from a car before. Like a slow, not too heavy scratching. The car seemed to drive just fine, so I would just report the problem once I finished my shift. After five minutes of this, I got a call from my colleague. An alarm went off near my position, so he asked if I could check it out. Lately, that alarm went off every night as a technical problem.

so it wasn't anything serious. I arrived to the place a bit later, left my car running outside, and checked inside the building. Everything was normal, as usual, just the alarm going crazy. I got in the car, finally ready to finish my shift. The strange noise finally stopped, no need to report the problem. I arrived at the station where I worked and found my colleague waiting for me outside to get in the car and start his shift. I took my stuff and got out of the car. He got in and turned on the light to search for something. I was already walking away when he called me.

Dude, what the heck? You took a dog in the car? What is this? And then with horror, I saw it. In the back of the vehicle, just behind my seat, there was mud everywhere and footprints, big ones. Of some animal I cannot explain. Like a big, dirty dog opened up the car door,

got inside behind me and closed it without making any noise, and then it made sense the strange noise. All that time, it was behind me, watching, grinning. I was in shock and couldn't even speak. My colleague was confused in staring at me, and if I just turned the light on, I would have seen it, staring at me in the rear-view mirror. Pretty sure last night has ruined hunting for me for good.

I don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable out in the woods after last night. You see, I have no family here in central Michigan, so I figured I might as well try to bag a buck. Well, I didn't see one. Just a very creepy guy, dressed as an officer. I got out to my stand around 3 p.m. Perfect timing for me, as I like to spend around 3 hours out in the quiet backwoods. It really doesn't matter to me if I get a deer.

It's just a bonus. The real treat is escaping reality for a few hours and enjoying nature's beauty. I didn't see much, a couple squirrels and a small dough, which of course I passed up. It was getting to be around 5.30 p.m. when the sun was quickly fading. I knew I had roughly 20 minutes of enough light before I knew the evening hunt would be over. Just as I was about to quietly gather my gear and get ready to leave my ground blind, A twig snapped to my left. My heart began to beat a little quicker,

as I envisioned an eight-pointer strolling out just before nightfall, offering me a clear shot. I slowly leaned my head forward so I could try to get a better look of the animal that was approaching. Something stopped me, though. The forest was unusually quiet.

The air began to fill with a very odd smell of what I could only describe as iron. I'd smelled it many times before, as I've shot plenty of deer throughout my 29 years of life. A bleat rang through the woods. Instantly I froze, and my heart was beating for a whole different reason. Fear. This was no ordinary deer bleat.

It sounded like a person was trying to mimic a deer. I sat as still as a stone, as the crunching of my unwanted guest slowly walked closer and closer. It was almost pitch black now, and I was left feeling more terrified than ever. Something felt extremely off about the whole situation. Most people that called for deer used a deer call, which would have been hard to tell apart from an actual deer.

This, however, sounded painfully obvious that it was someone using their own voice. It blasted through the forest again, this time, maybe 10 feet away. My heart was beating uncontrollably at this point. Whoever was out here had to know I was there. It is rifle season, and it's incredibly stupid to be out here wandering in the woods.

let alone trying to make yourself sound like a deer. The smell of iron was getting to be unbearable, as whatever was out here was getting closer. I decided to bring my 30-30 to my shoulder and prepare to defend myself if need be. That's when I finally saw movement through the flap of my blind. It was a tall, lanky man, wearing an officer's uniform. For a second, relief washed over me,

as the feeling of not being alone was much better than being by myself in the dark woods. Then, as he took another step, I noticed how off everything was about him. His arms were too long and contrast to his short legs. Now that he was within 10 to 15 feet of me, I could see just how tall he was. He had to be close to 7 feet tall. He stopped directly in front of me and threw his head back, making that awful bleeding noise again. That was when I got a good look at his face and almost threw up from the amount of fear that I was feeling.

His mouth didn't move as he bleated, but I could see his cheekbones moving. His mouth drooped in a sad-looking expression. Blood dripped down the corner of his mouth. He bellowed again. Seeing it a second time was when I noticed what was wrong about him. His face wasn't his. He had the skin of someone's face pulled over his head. Most likely the officer's face.

My heart started to beat so loud. I actually feared he would hear it. I don't know how. he still didn't notice me, only about 15 feet away, sitting in my blind. I prayed he wouldn't. I watched in horror as he took slow, staggered steps until he walked out of view. The sound of his footsteps slowly got quieter as it walked further and further away. The smell of rot. I heard one more final bleat ring through the woods before his footsteps were all out of range together. I waited another 20 minutes before slowly exiting my blind, too afraid.

he would hear me and come back. I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could back to my truck. Once I was about 30 yards away from my truck, I heard the bleat again, followed by heavy footsteps. He spotted me. I took off running full blast, knowing that I had a short distance to cover, hearing him get closer with crazy speed. I made the mistake of glancing back as I reached back to my truck, and what I saw will still stick with me forever. He was running on all fours, making these huge galloping strides. He moved way faster than he should have been able to in that position. I jumped in my truck and started it with my shaky hands. Just as I started to pull away, I saw a flash, then a huge banging noise as it slammed into the side of my truck. I floored it

and raced out of there as fast as I could without ditching it. He gave chase for a short while, but fell behind pretty quickly. I drove the 15 minutes home in silence. Looking in my rear view mirror every five seconds expecting to see him chasing me. He never did though, thank goodness. Once I got home, I grabbed my stuff and raced inside, locking the door behind me. I tried to make sense of what I saw, but I just couldn't. I have no idea what that thing was. I was pretty exhausted after running and having my heart racing for such a long time, so I went straight to bed. I had a hard time falling asleep as the memory of his scratched out stolen face was burned into my brain. Just as I finally started to doze off, I froze again as I heard the same strange bleat out of my

window in my backyard somewhere. This thing followed me home. It made sounds out there all night, and I could hear its odd footsteps as it circled around the house. I made it through the night somehow, so I'm posting this in hopes that one of you might be able to help me identify what this thing is, maybe how to get rid of it. I don't want to call the police, because I know they will think I'm insane. So if anyone has any suggestions, I'd gladly take the advice. We all have those calls that haunt us. There's not a 911 dispatcher alive who doesn't have at least one of those that sticks with them for the rest of their life. To be honest, most of us have too many times. We're count. I always thought I was above that. I'd never let this job or these calls get to me.

I was tough, but then September 12th happened. I worked the night shift in a very secluded county sheriff's office, a little over 1,200 square miles with the population of 31,000. Not a lot in the way of heinous crimes happened. There were those out-of-the-ordinary UFO calls every now and then, But most of the time it was loose cows and card slash deer accidents. We sure do have our share of crazies. And that night, my caller was one of them. It was about 301 in the morning. My partner Tasha and I were watching reruns of 90-day fiancé

when the 911 call tones went off. Totally routine. I try to answer the phone faster than Tasha because she's the quickest hands in the West when it comes to taking calls. and unfortunately this time I got it. County 911, what's the address of your emergency? Silence.

Hello, County 911? More silence. I look at my call screen where the coordinates are. Updating the call, it finally phrases the correct coordinates to the map, roughly where the caller is. Hello, County 911, what's your emergency? I repeat again. entering the coordinates in.

It maps to a residence in our second largest city, and immediately I know who the caller is. Marjorie Cannonberry. Don't let her name fool you. She's not a sweet old lady, but rather a 32-year-old drug user. Extensive history in our in-house records, and I don't even need to look her up.

In my three years of dispatching here, I can't recall just one week where I didn't have a call with Marjorie. Hello, Marge? Do you have an emergency? I ask again. We're on a first name basis. Yes, I finally hear her whisper.

Okay, what's going on? There's... She pauses, her breathing trembling slightly. There's something in my closet. There's something in your closet? I asked. Quickly typing into my call narrative. How do you know there's someone there?

Do you see them? No. Not something. Someone, she whispered again. I could tell she was truly terrified. Something. I don't know what it is. At this point, I'm convinced Marge is having another drug-induced hallucination.

It wouldn't be the first time. Describe for me what it looks like. In the background, Tasha is dispatching our area deputy. Please send someone, Marge whispered. Yes, I have a deputy on the way, Marge, but I need you to tell me what you're seeing. I said. When you said something, what did you mean? It's tall, she said.

It has to bend over, to fit, and it has long claws. She paused, and I could hear her sniffling. She was definitely crying. It's tapping them on the floor. Can you hear them? She paused, and I listened carefully to see if I could actually hear anything. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought, just barely, I could hear a rhythmic tapping.

Do you hear them? She asked. Almost desperately, like she was begging me to believe her. I ignored her question. What else, Marge? What else do you see? Um,

her voice trembled. It's all black, and it has really big teeth. It keeps licking its teeth. So it knows you're there? Yes, she said shakily. It's staring right at me, glowing yellow eyes.

For the first time in my life, a shiver went down my spine from her words. Every horror movie I've ever seen came to mind. Though I knew better, my supernatural bone was piqued. Could there really be a demon in her closet? Are you able to leave the room march? I asked, typing all of this into our dispatch narrative. Can you go outside until my deputy gets there to see what's in there? I don't think so, she sobbed.

If I move, it'll get me. Have you been drinking tonight, Marjorie? I know how incriminating it sounded, but it was a legitimate clarifying question. Call me heartless if you want. No, she sobbed again. Please believe me. I know I've done stupid things before, but this is real. I haven't been drinking, and I haven't taken anything recently.

I don't know what it is, but I'm so scared. It keeps tapping. It's claws. You have to hear them. Don't you? The phone crackled as she held it out at an arm's length. There was no mistaking this time. I could hear something tapping.

A pit formed in my stomach. What? It was like the sound of long acrylic fingernails. Okay, Marge, I'm going to stay on the phone with you until the deputy gets there. I look at our mapping software. He's not super far out and shouldn't be too much longer. Okay, thank you, she whispered. It's just staring at me.

Does it have a face? I asked, against my better judgment. Did I actually believe that there was something there? Yeah, but it's all teeth, like it's smiling. And it hasn't moved since you saw it? No, it's just there. Staring and tapping its claws. How long has it been there? I don't know.

I woke up to the tapping noise and just saw it there, so I called you right away. Marge said. You don't believe me, do you? It's not that I don't believe you, Marge, I answered. I've never heard of this sort of thing before. What you're describing sounds like a demon from a scary film. I think it is.

Another shiver. Her voice sounded so convinced. Real or not, she was legitimately seeing something, whether it was an actual demon or a hallucination. Part of me felt bad for her, being absolutely convinced something like what she was describing was staring at her. It would be terrifying. Marge suddenly gasped, and the phone rustled as it fell from her hands.

What's going on, Marge? I asked quickly. My tone dropping in seriousness. It's coming towards me, she screamed. Oh no, it's claws. My deputy is almost there, Marge, I said loudly, over her screams, but I doubt she heard me. If I hadn't freaked out by then, I was now. Those screams were ones of pure and unfiltered terror.

My pulse was flying as I was trying to type everything I heard into the call. Next to me, Tasha was relaying the info to our deputy. Come on, I thought. Get there already. The problem with a secluded country was that we didn't have as many deputies on as others, so our response time was significantly longer. This particular night, the city's officer had called in sick, So it was the county's job to cover if there were any calls.

333, be advised? She's screaming and not answering us anymore, Tasha said to our responding deputy. 333-104. 2 minutes out. 332, to dispatch. It'll be 1076 as well. Our other unit in the area piped up.

I had seen him making his way towards the area before, but now he was going emergent. I repeatedly tried to get Marge to come back on the phone. But all I could hear were her screams. I could also hear things being thrown around, like she was smashing into them with her body. And suddenly, as quick as it happened, everything went silent. Marge, I shouted.

Marge, are you there? The phone crackled. He's going to get to me, Marge said monotonously. He knows who you are now. You're next. And then the line went silent. If I had a handset phone, it would have fallen out of my hand. How could anyone not get unnerved by something like that?

The movie lover in me was terrified. You're next. 333 Dispatch, I'm 1023. The first responding deputy advised he was on the scene. His name was Jason, our youngest deputy on the department. He's a super nice kid who was probably the best person that could have responded to help March. Tasha held radio traffic just for that call. and we waited for what seemed like an eternity as Jason went into the house.

333 dispatch. It nearly made me jump up out of my seat and my nerves on end. Get a med rolling. She tore up her arms pretty bad. Within five minutes our med unit was rolling. Jason and Travis, his backup, ended up capturing Marge. They came up before Jason transferred her to the mental hospital. After getting medical clearance and explaining everything that had happened. Apparently, Marge was tripping out on drugs, my first suspicion, and decided to tear at her arms. She also trashed her apartment with her drug stupor, which would explain the crashing around I heard. But what about the tapping? I asked. I heard the tapping she was talking about. I don't know anything about that, Jason said with a shrug, but it was probably something she

was doing that she didn't realize she was doing. Yeah, you're probably right, I said, but I still couldn't shake the bad feeling. It's sad, honestly, Jason said, retrieving the papers off the printer that was printing. She's so fried from the drugs, she's just crazy now. I glanced out the dispatch window to the lobby, where Travis was sitting with Marge. She sat with her head hanging down, and her arms and bandages. Seeing someone hopped up on drugs was always a little disturbing to me. As if she knew I was looking at her, she lifted her head up and her eyes met mine.

They grew wide, and she pulled. pointed at me, letting out another piercing cry. Travis stood up as she did, putting himself between her and me, inadvertently. I couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't pointing at me, but rather, behind me. I told myself it was dumb, but why was it I couldn't look over my shoulder. Jason flew out the door with the paperwork he needed, and both struggled down to the front with her to load her up into the squad. In two days, hospital staff would find Marge deceased in her room.

Her head somehow twisted unnaturally around. It would never have a full explanation. Finally, after taking a deep breath, I turned around. There was nothing there. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and laughed at myself. Of course, there was nothing there. The rest of my shift went by smoothly, the whole 20 minutes we had left. When we finally left that night, I couldn't wait to go home and go to bed.

that call had really rattled me and left me with a headache. I got back to my little apartment, greeted by my little white cat. After giving her more food, I took off my uniform and hung it up in the closet, making sure to close the doors. Hurrying back to my bed, I jumped in and turned on the TV for some background noise. That night, I slept with all the lights on. Maybe it was just my imagination running wild, or the stress of a long week. But as I closed the door to my closet, I could have sworn I saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes, staring back at me.

This happened a while ago, but my then-girlfriend, now wife, Mary, has finally given me permission to share this. It happened in the mid-80s. We were 18, and we had just started going around together. It was the middle of summer, and we had just finished school. I held down a job as an apprentice mechanic, while she worked as a reception. at her father's company. This meant that we didn't get to spend as much spare time together as we would have liked. However, the perfect opportunity for a weekend getaway arose with a long weekend federal holiday and I was able to convince her with only minimal pestering that we should go for the weekend to camp in a popular national park. When that weekend arrived, I packed my truck with all of the supplies we would need and drove around to hers. I waited patiently on her front porch for her to be

ready, while her father stood with arms crossed in a hard glare. When she was finally ready, at least four eternities later, she said goodbye to her father, and he gave me a stern handshake with a gruff. You look after her, to which I agreed that I would. Being the father of two, now adult women myself, I understand his concerns, but I would be lying if I said he didn't scare the crap out of me then, and still a little bit now. However, Once we hit the open road, we were gone without a care in the world. Making our way through pitch-yrous countryside, we sang along to the radio with our windows down, until we were good and windbeat. Played monotonous travel games until we ran out of items to guess,

and I let her nap when she fell asleep leaning against the passenger side window. While she slept, I got a little turned around. There were no turns on the road where I thought there should have been, and we ended up going straight for a long time where there weren't any familiar landmarks. As the car began to run low on gas, I decided I would need to pull into the next gas station I saw, which as it turned out wasn't too much further down the road. Its neon lights drew me in like a beacon in the night, but as I approached, I saw that it was quite run down. There was a layer of grimy dust over everything.

The fuel prices were outrageous. The neon light was missing a couple letters, and a single moth flew repeatedly into the light above the service attendant. Suffice to say, if my car wasn't dying for a drink, we wouldn't have stopped. I left Mary asleep in the car while I filled it up and locked the car out of paranoia when I went to pay and ask for directions. Inside, the attendant looked just as washed up as the gas station did. It was a guy around my age with an absent expression on his face, and our conversation went to something like this. Pump 3. Pack of Skittles. And can you tell me which direction the National Park is?

I asked direct, though not rudely. That'll be $50 and 90 cents. He spoke in a heavy droll of a country accent and just pointed down the road in response to my question. Okay, uh, thanks. Good evening to you. I said uncertainly, but decided to just go with it and re-consult my map if necessary. There was a long pause for a moment, and I was almost out of the store before he spoke up again. You be careful out there in so-and-so forest.

The way he said it was unsettling, and I hesitated a moment unsure of how to respond. In the end, I gave him an awkward nod of thanks, and left a little quicker while reflecting on the strange conversation, and crazy prices. However, when I came out and looked to the car, my heart leapt into my throat, the passenger door was open, and Mary wasn't in the car. Mary! I called with a wave of concern raising in my stomach as I jogged back to the car at a considerable pace. What? She answered almost immediately, and sounding just as panicked as she picked up on the strain of my voice. I whirled around confused to see her behind me coming from the direction. of the bathrooms. You, I, why did you leave the car door open? I demanded, worry giving way to hot

embarrassment and uncertainty. She apologized for scaring me, and then explained that she hadn't left the door open. My initial thought at the time was that we had just been robbed, but upon searching the vehicle, saw nothing was out of place or otherwise missing. We assumed that she may have, in fact, just not close the door as firmly as she thought, and that it had swung open after her. This was really the only rational explanation that would calm our nerves enough to get back on the road and keep driving. We traveled down the dark road until the asphalt gave way to gravel, and we passed signs pointing to our intended destination. The camp itself was actually pretty easy to find, once we had an idea of where we were going,

though setting up in the dark was a little spooky. Mary held the light while I pitched the tent and lit a fire. Overall, I'd say the first night ended up being pretty romantic. The mild state of fear put her into a clingy mood, and I was only happy to oblige. The only thing I could say might have been some indication of what was going to come is when I went to get the tent out of the back of my truck, the tarp canopy over the tray was loose,

not entirely undone or anything, and there was obviously nothing in the back, other than our supplies. But it's something that I look back on now and wonder about. It could have come loose from the travel, sure. Then again, I didn't check it at the gas station, so who really knows? The following day, we woke up early to welcoming sounds of morning songbirds, and we ate breakfast, which was a gourmet assortment of beans and toast,

in the company of a field mouse. As it turned out, we'd chosen a pretty good campsite in the dark, Situated near the edge of a clearing, there was a decent patch around us, with a clear view across the river to the hillside, with deer grazing and thick woods behind us. Activities for the day included, frolicing in the river and hiking. We settled into the evening drinking around a campfire with neighboring campers and exchanged stories. Our new friends, a couple of guys named Joe and Patrick, were excited to share stories about their experiences the day preys. prior. They had encountered the odd fellow at the gas station as well, but Joe told us in a more hushed tone that other strange things had happened to them since arriving. They had heard

the footsteps crunching the leaves around their caravan late at night and seen unidentifiable shapes moving between the trees at dusk. This was about the time that Mary added in that while we were out on our hike, she felt watched or like we were being followed and kept glancing behind just to make sure. As she spoke, I could tell she was genuinely spooked, though she kept her voice jovial. Patrick noticed too, and was quick to interject that it was probably nothing more than wildlife. Joe, however, was equally as eager to inform us that he had grown up in the area and that this forest had a reputation for missing campers. Of the campers that had been found, their bodies were always discovered beyond recognition. Some were found seemingly skewered at

the top of impossibly tall trees, while others had been strung up by their feet and torn apart. All circumstances were mysterious, and while each case had an official explanation, many locals suspected the police department was covering something up, since most explanations were a stretch at best. The conversation died off pretty quickly with that information, and Mary and I returned to our campsite. She was understandably unsettled and even suggested that maybe we should leave. I reassured her the best I could, promising that if anything unusual started to happen, that we would leave, and my drunken charm somehow managed to convince her, since it was only one more night anyway. Under the guise of watching the stars, I laid down

blankets and pillows in the back of the truck, and we lay down together to snuggle. Naturally, things went the way I hoped, and before long we were getting pretty heated, when we heard a soft snap from the forest. At hearing the twig break, she stopped and started to sit up. I did my very best to convince her that it was nothing, but the sounds of bushes rustling was undeniable. There was something moving toward us from the brush. At this point, I sat up and gently pushed her to the side and half behind me. I was assuming that it was maybe Joe or Patrick, drunkenly wandering over to us, so I hurried and found the flashlight while she struggled to to find her stuff. However, once I turned on the light and pointed it in the direction of the sound,

the noises stopped. It was then that we realized it was dead silent. Not a single insect, bird, or otherwise mammalian creature dared to make a peep. This is what truly terrified me. One of the most basic human instincts we have is that utter silence is bad. I scanned the trees and bushes with the light slowly. I could hear Mary bear. barely breathing behind me and realized that I myself was holding my breath as a beam of light shone over empty leaves and branches. The moment it landed on something in the darkness is the moment I'll never forget. Set back between the trees was a pair of round eyes reflecting back at us. They were maybe 100 yards away, if that, and approximately the height you would expect a deer to be

standing. Both Mary and I froze as we stared down this thing in the darkness. trying to determine what we thought it was. Then it stood up. We saw the eyes elevate from deer height to what are we seeing height. This thing stood tall, seven or eight feet by my best estimation in the dark at a distance. Then it screamed. Now when I say it screamed, I mean it let out the most unholy screech I had ever heard. It was simultaneously high-pitched and reverberatingly deep.

It shook me to my core. and to this day neither of us had heard anything even remotely similar or have been able to accurately describe the harrowing sound it made. Mary and I sat terrified for a moment before we realized the creature was now running headlong at us, crashing through the undergrowth with fury. I only caught a glimpse of what it looked like. It was a mixture of bare skin and tattered patches of fur, gaping wide, loose-hanging jaw of a mouth, and sunken in oblong-shaped eyes.

with distinctive cheekbones. Sometimes at night I still wake up in a cold sweat, imagining it coming for me, or sitting in the dark of my room just beyond the light of my phone screen. At the time, however, we scrambled ourselves out of the back of the truck and into the front.

I fumbled frantically with the keys and pedals trying not to stall the thing, while Mary chattering frantically about the impending creature getting closer. She told me later that it almost reached the tail of the truck before I put it into gear, gear, and we tore off down the road at a dangerous speed. It was really a miracle we made it out in one

piece, considering how inebriated I was, and how many times I felt the back end slide out on the gravel as we drifted around bends of the road. I didn't stop driving that night until we were more than halfway home. We passed by the creepy gas station in favor of another more populated and well-lit one in town. I'm pretty sure we looked ridiculous. Two shell-shocked people staggering out of a dirty scratched up car and wide-eyed. When I tried to have a smoke to calm my nerves, my hands were shaking so bad I could hardly get it to my lips, and when the clerk asked us what happened, neither of us made any sense in our explanations. We checked into a hotel for the night, and made it home earlier than planned the next day. Neither of us mentioned anything to her parents.

In fact, she forbid me from mentioning the story until now out of a combination of embarrassment and fear. I was only able to convince her to allow this now because recently a group of high school kids disappeared in that forest. According to the news report, four went in and only one came out. The surviving teen was institutionalized for babbling incoherently about a monster in the forest. My wife and I know that we're not crazy. We also know that this means that whatever we saw is still out there somewhere. Before I begin, there's something you have to understand about the woods, and I'm talking about the deep backcountry, 50 plus miles out from any station or any signs of civilization.

After a certain point, everything begins to blend. The longer you spend out there, the smaller and smaller you become, until you're just another part of the environment, a movement through valleys and peaks. It's depersonalizing and ego-killing. You forget things about yourself, and instincts guide you. It becomes natural, but it also makes you look like a lunatic. That's why we never spend more than eight days alone in the back country at a time. That said, my first few months on the job were everything I wanted, plenty of time outdoors,

mostly upkeep on trails in the back country, along with checking up on some old stands that the Forest Service had acquired in the 50s. The Pine Beetle epidemic was especially bad in my region. in this year, so I had a lot of time marking the mortality rate in the area, amongst other details. For the most part, I loved my job. I'm a bit of an introvert, so time alone outdoors working is perfect for me. But there have been a few moments that still make me uncomfortable to think about. A couple weeks after I started, I woke up early and drove down a pretty rough forested section of backcountry with lots of elevation. I was trying to check on a site that some backpackers,

who had just returned from a week-long trek, had reported seeing bonfires a few nights ago. They said the fires seemed to be a few hundred yards off the trail, and that it looked like there were people around the flames. An aerial team couldn't find any signs of the fires, like the backpackers were describing, so they assumed it was falsely reported. Even so, we had a serious burn ban in effect,

and I was sent out to double check and make sure. I got about 20 miles in, before I found the section of trail I needed to go down, covered in earth, destroyed in some sort of landslide. It must have been recent. Neither the backpackers nor the aerial team noticed it, and someone would have. I definitely couldn't drive through,

but I was only two miles from the site, so I grabbed my pack, checked my water, and radioed to the forest station from my ATV to let them know I was hiking the rest of the way in. I probably should have waited for a crew to come out, and clear the road, but we were all really concerned about the fire, and I won't lie. I was mad at the thought of backpackers being so careless.

You couldn't miss the signs coming into the forest, warning about forest fires, and announcing the burn ban. There was no reason to be reckless. And so, I hiked out there. It was only about 10.30 a.m. when I set out. I expected it to take about two hours to get to the area where the fires were reported. The elevation increase was drastic, so I had to pause every so often to catch my breath. After hiking for a while, I paused for a moment and realized I wasn't on the trail anymore.

This isn't that unusual. If you've ever backpacked or even gone on long hikes before, you know that it's easier than you think to stumble off the trail, even for someone experienced. I'm one of the newest and youngest rangers, but I've spent a lot of time outdoors backpacking and hiking, and normally would have a great sense of direction, so I wasn't too alarmed not to know exactly where I was. You get used to being lost. The thing that alarmed me was noticing a pink hue lighting up the forest.

The sun was about to disappear behind the tree line that covered the mountain to the west. I didn't think I'd been hiking that long. I had gone maybe a mile and a half in an hour, or so I thought. Nonetheless, it appeared to be almost 7 p.m. now. I quickly decided the safest thing would be to head back south towards my ATV, which stored all of my overnight gear and come back tomorrow. It would be embarrassing to explain to the other rangers that I lost track of time, but it would be worse to get stuck out here all night. Without the right equipment, I might freeze.

Besides, they'd start wondering why I hadn't checked back after so long. I grabbed some loose stones off the ground and left a sign to indicate I had been there, and set off in the direction I thought I wandered off from the trail. I quickly found it, but it was a section I hadn't been through earlier. Somehow, I had found my way farther north, and funnily enough, I saw a yellow trail marker not too far up the mountain. I realized it was the marker for the next 10-mile section, the area the fire reports had mentioned. The sun was almost touching the mountains now, but I decided to hike up to the marker at least.

stay for a few minutes and then quickly head back before it got completely dark. I realized this wasn't ideal, but at the time it seemed better than going back with nothing to report. I hiked a few dozen yards to the marker and looked out over the valley to the east. It seemed empty, nothing unusual. I took a sip from my water bottle and waited another five minutes. I still didn't see anything, so I decided to head out. I hadn't gone a mile before I smelled smoke coming from down the mountain. I looked around but couldn't see any smoke columns.

It was kind of unsettling. The sunset was so red, everywhere I looked seemed to glow. Getting worried, I stumbled the last mile back and immediately called it in. The night was darker now, and without any trace of the fire in the valley. Despite smelling the smoke earlier, I decided to spend the night on the trail, in case whatever caused it caught up again. I set up a temporary camp with my one-man tent and waited the night out. Nights in the back country are different than camping in other places.

In the back of your head, you recognize that you are completely alone for dozens of miles. You end up listening to the night differently. Everything you hear suddenly becomes important, because now you're just another part of the forest, vulnerable. At some point, I woke up from a dothouse. dream, I can't remember now, but I recall feeling unsettled. I poked my head out of the tent and crawled out to take a leak and look around for a minute. I didn't see anything, but it's hard to explain exactly how I felt. It was almost like I was being observed, but very lightly, as a part of the

background. It was kind of discerning, so I went back to sleep pretty quickly. Aerial Recon flew over the next morning and still found nothing. About midday, the team arrived to clear the landslide, and the other rangers and I began searching the back country. At the end of the second day, we found it. A chunk of the forest had completely burned down. It was tucked into a valley in the northeast, only a few hundred yards away from where I camped the first night. But I missed it then. It was maybe 200 yards across and 300 running down the mountainside. You think this would be too large to escape notice, but it took us almost two days to find. It.

Even then, the aerial team missed it altogether. This was a strange fire, too. It burned in an almost clean line down the mountain's ridge, forming a recognizable rhombus, and normally forest fires around here aren't intense enough to completely take out fully grown pine trees. But this fire had been hot. Everything was scorched, total mortality. It almost seemed unnatural, but we couldn't find anything in the ashes to explain it. I wondered if I had missed something a few days after we left, but eventually, after talking to the veteran rangers,

I decided it was just one of those things that can't be explained. Apparently, it's not all that uncommon from what they've said. According to them, if you spend enough time in the wilderness, you start to see things, seeing you. I didn't know what they meant by that, but we didn't have time to talk more, and I haven't seen them much since. A week after that, I found a couple of idiots trying to start a cooking fire at one of the trailheads. I yelled at them probably harsher than I should have. They seemed to genuinely feel bad about it. Apparently, they missed all of the signs.

I decided to let it go and began to leave. But before I drove out, I saw the spark and catch of a fire in the rearview mirror. Infuriated, I drove back and got out. The campers were just as confused as me. The fire pit was completely cold. It looked the same just as I had seen it. Empty and unused. After making them clean out the twigs and leaves they tried to use. Confused, I walked around the entire trailhead, but didn't see any sign of a fire. I figured it was a trick of light in the rearview mirror and left.

I convinced myself over the next couple months not to worry about the wildfire stuff, and nothing else out of the ordinary happened. Until a few days ago. I was on trail maintenance with another ranger, Lauren. She'd been working as a ranger for almost 10 years, so I generally followed her lead. We were about 15 miles into the back country, checking on some primitive campsites for campers. We were currently at Campsite 3. There's 8 total, and they form a large U, over almost 90 miles surrounding one of the larger mountains in the region.

It was getting into fall, so it was supposed to be empty while we were. worked our way through, checking up on site quality. All afternoon, I had been cutting out a new trail from the campsite, up to a spring that had changed course recently. The shadows were beginning to grow long, but I was close to finishing, so I kept cutting away. About a half hour later, I broke through and walked onto a boulder the ground slanted into, and watched the head of the spring just inside up the mountain. It looked like a deer path meandered its way up the springhead, So I started up. When I got there, I almost threw up.

The spring flowed clearly enough, but just to the right of it, a section of the ground turned into weathered stone. In the middle, a skin deer, with spatters and other pools of red scattered everywhere in the nearby vicinity. I've seen plenty of dead animals before, but this was messed up. Something had skinned a deer, and very cleanly, and I couldn't find any other signs of damage, but its actual hide was nowhere to be seen.

Flies were starting to circle the meat. It did not look like it had been there long. I quickly hiked back down the several hundred yards I cut out and found Lauren, who was back from working and making dinner. I paused to catch my breath and told her I had to show her something. She looked concerned, so we went back up to the spring. When we got there, the deer was gone, and I couldn't find a drop of anything.

I had been gone maybe an hour at most. It didn't seem possible. Lauren assumed I was just messing with her, so I played it off and tried to forget about it. But I haven't forgotten about it. And apparently, Lauren told my supervisor, Jonathan, he asked me to come back to the forestation, so tomorrow I'm driving out of the back country.

He sounded different, though, almost like he didn't really want to call me in. I guess I'll see how this goes, and update this when I can. Part 2. I don't think I should be alive. I met with my supervisor yesterday, and at first, it seemed like it might be just a formality.

He didn't say anything about the deer. We made small talk for a while, but finally, he broke the safety of our conversation by pausing and saying, You're probably wondering why I called you back a few days early this rotation. I nodded slowly, and he continued. Well, we've all been really impressed by your performance, and I finally got approval from HQ,

so congratulations. You passed your three-month performance review, and are now a permanent ranger with us. This caught me off guard, but I quickly masked my relief, and thanked him. We talked a bit more about the increased responsibility, and he gave me my next assignment with the team. I was feeling pretty good, shook his hand, and was on my way out. before I shut the door behind me, he said, Before you leave, you mentioned you saw some oddly skin deer out there? Something scare you? My face went pale, and I thought about telling him the truth,

but I instead muttered something about it being a dumb joke. Jonathan nodded his head thoughtfully, and though he didn't look satisfied with my answer, he didn't press me. He just said, that would be an unusual thing to find, measuring each word out carefully while looking past me distantly. That felt like the end of our conversation, so I shut the door behind me,

walking away as quickly as I could without seeming weird. Something was off, and for some reason I got the feeling the whole meeting had been to ask me that last question. I should have driven out of the mountains and back home after that meeting, but something held me back. On the drive back into the mountains, I got caught up in the beauty of the right. rising slopes, twisting valleys, and graceful, swaying pine trees. My whole life, I've come to the mountains with problems and ideas I need to think over, and they somehow make everything simple. In the shadow of the mountains, I've always been able to realize how small my worries are

and find content. I briefly thought about driving home, but once I got a few miles in, I was never going back. I still had to do work here, and by the time I got my assignment location, I wasn't worried at all anymore. I had met up with the other rangers at the campsite. They'd set up near the trailhead and found that they decided to celebrate my pseudo-promotion. At first, I didn't think I was in the mood to party,

but the atmosphere was so nice. I only had a few beers, and a few hours later, I was pretty drunk. I got to talking with Ryan, another ranger who had been on the job about as long as Lauren, on the tailgate of his truck, away from the rest of the team. We were overlooking the valley that ran for miles north, where we'd be working for the next few weeks. There's a lot of different types of rangers, but I've always found the quiet ones to have the best stories.

Ryan was normally one of the quiet rangers, but he chose this time to open up to me. I'd been telling him about the Rombus fire from a few weeks ago, and he was nodding at different points in my story. When I mentioned I was walking off the trail and losing track of time, he looked alert. I laughed it off as a dumb mistake, but he took it seriously. I've heard of losing time like that before, but never so close to the forestation. I've always heard it happening deep in the forest, like 100 plus miles out, and you weren't that far. This seemed to discern him. He took a sip of his beer.

There's more, too. I've heard it goes way back, to Native Americans even, but they called it wandering. They say that the people who become... wanderers first wander through the woods from camp to camp never staying anywhere overnight preferring to keep to the caves and hollows throughout the pines they eventually accomplish what they seek in a way becoming a part of the wild they adopt animalistic qualities and disappear from society reappearing here and there in stories and folktales separate from time he shook his head those are

just old myths but I do believe there's something off about the these woods, and I don't know. I wanted to bring up the deer, but I didn't quite know how to bring up the subject. Ryan ended up talking about something more interesting, so I kept listening. The thing with the fires is weird, though, he said. Don't let yourself be convinced it's not. Those backpackers said they saw multiple fires with people around them, so why would they lie about something like that? Ryan had also been there while we searched through the ashes, and knew that it wasn't really resolved, though it was filed away as a natural wildfire. Whole thing sort of reminds me about this woman that went missing out here, maybe five, six years

ago. Some backpacking trek turned around after 40 miles when one of their people got sick. Well, it wasn't until they returned to the trailhead that they realized they were missing one of their party. A young woman vanished at some point on the way back, and no one remembered seeing her leave, or when she disappeared, she was just gone. Somehow, no one noticed. An S-A-R team came in to look for her, and even they admitted it was bizarre. We all wondered if foul play might be involved. How does someone disappear without being noticed over a 40-day return trek? He shrugged and said, we found her a few weeks later, and not where we expected to. Normally these types of people show back up around the trailheads and primitive campsites along the train.

after a while. Not this girl. We found her way up in the mountains, above the tree line, and honestly, we probably never would have found her on our own. We were only out there looking for anything because someone reported a huge smoke column coming from up behind this peak. We went to check it out and didn't find any fires, but we did spot a bright red jacket, one exactly like the backpackers said she'd been wearing. He leaned in. Over the next couple days, we brought more people. Another S-AR team eventually found what was left of her. Closing his eyes, he paused for a moment. Someone had filleted her, as it looked like from the scratch marks gouged around her. She was already rotting. She had been there a while. She wandered so far, too,

almost 70 miles from the trail she had been missing on. Sometimes people go in the wrong direction, but 70 miles wrong? Her group was. was shocked, police investigated, but it was obvious none of them had any part in it. I sat speechless. It couldn't be a coincidence. The deer was not the first. A family of owls began hooting down in the valley, and we both listened for a moment. That was a long time ago, though. I try not to think about it too often. Suddenly, he looked nervous, like he'd said too much. Anyways, I'm pretty tired. I'm going to catch some sleep. He patted my back and walked away.

There was no way I was sleeping now, so I decided to walk down into the valley to clear my head. It was late, but the moon was easily bright enough for me to follow the trail down. I walked maybe a half a mile before moving just off the trail to sit on a rock ledge that overlooked a high slope. Watching the stars, the pine tree swaying gently in the wind. I began to relax. I sat there for a while and closed my eyes, trying to empty my mind, but very gradually, an unnerving feeling began to wash over me. It was very slight at first, like the sense of being observed I felt before the forest fire, but it grew stronger until I was almost certain that I was being watched by something intelligent. I was still laying on the rock,

scared to move and startle whatever this presence was. My science teacher in elementary school told my class about this when I was a young kid, but I never actually experienced the feeling myself. He told us about wild cats, apex predators, that stalk their prey so efficiently. You can't see them, but you instinctively know they're there. Your brain subconsciously observes very small details that, on their own, are meaningless, but together are unsettling because they only mean one thing. Something is watching you.

And you don't know what or why. I remember thinking it was cool at the time, but now it was terrifying. I tried to remain calm while I thought about what to do, but I realized I only had one option. I stood up and started sprinting back to the trail towards the trailhead. As soon as I hit the trail, I heard a distant thumping of some sort of running gate behind me that sent me up the trail faster.

adrenaline allowing me to ignore my lungs, which were beginning to burn. I glanced over my shoulder once and saw some sort of semi-humanoid-shaped figure running after me. It looked like it had the skin of a deer, but it seemed to conform to a different contour than that of any animal I've ever seen. Its back was painfully twisted forward. Its skin ragged and pulled down to the hoofs, which it used to move unnaturally quick over the trail. I couldn't see its face in the moonlight, but I could see elegant antlers arching on both sides of its head. I ran harder and finally saw the campsite ahead. I burst into the clearing and crashed into someone in front of me. A high-pitched, breathless gasp told me it was Lauren. I'm so sorry, I said,

getting to my feet and giving her a hand. There's a... Her jaw dropped and she pushed past me to look down the trail into the valley. I followed her gaze and looked over my shoulder. A huge wall of fire cut the forest in half. The forest was burning. Part 3. Strange trails have appeared in the back country in areas that are supposed to be completely undeveloped. I first noticed one a few days ago, following them when they cropped up here and there, only identifiable by the cleared vegetation and worn topsoil paths. But these aren't normal trails, they loop around, run uphill, and distort sense of direction by winding back and forth through these steep valleys. I must have explored 20 plus miles of these trails over a

couple of days, but at times I'd go back through an area and it would be different. At first, I thought it was just my memory failing, but then I started paying attention, curves and other points of interest shifted in certain ways. They weren't completely different, just a enough for me to notice. Yesterday, I swore a path had run on the other side of a stream I was going down. Then on my way back, I couldn't even remember which side it had been on to begin with. It was just to my right now. I'm scared to mention this, but I have to. Deer carcasses have become a normal sight out here. I see them almost daily. Sometimes they're days later, rotting away, but sometimes they disappear without any trace. After several days of finding deer,

carcasses, I had enough and pulled out of the valley the trails were in and hiked back to the start of the back country. I'm not sure I even want to report these to HQ, but I've been on an extended solo trek, surveying and monitoring wildfire risk in the remote forest to the north. So I really could just say nothing, and I'd probably be the only person to ever find them before they become overgrown again. However the trails got here, I haven't seen anyone around to maintain them. So soon enough, they'll be impassable and slip back into the wilderness and fade away with time. To quickly address my last post, the forest we were going to work in had some sort of spontaneous combustion event that rapidly lit a huge fire across the valley. Our team quickly moved out above

the tree line and called it in. Over the next few hours and into the late morning, aerial teams dropped fire suppressants and eventually contained it in the valley. We walked through the three through later that evening when just the smoldering ashes remained. This had also been an intense, total mortality fire. We never found the cause either. Beyond natural circumstances created the perfect conditions for a fire. I didn't mention anything to anyone about the thing I saw the night before, but I kept an eye out for any charred, disfigured bodies.

The other rangers and I were pretty shaken up after the whole ordeal, but our supervisor didn't seem to sympathize. He told us there'd been an unannounced control burn, and due to some critical error, we got sent out to the wrong place. This seemed totally out of the norm to me, but no one openly questioned him. He gave everyone the next day off, but when we returned, he split everyone up to separate assignments across the forest. I ended up on a solo trek in the north. Other than the trails, it's been a quiet assignment. I wish I could talk to Ryan about the thing I saw, but I haven't gotten a chance.

It almost seemed like he avoided me after the fire. The more I thought about it, I think whatever I saw out there was the dark tricking my eyes. It doesn't seem that unlikely that some deer got spooked when the fire went off and ran up the trail, and I mistook it for something else in the moonlight as I glanced over my shoulder. But I have become a little paranoid since seeing the deer thing.

It validated my concerns from the first fire. Something is out here, and I won't let it scare me away from being here. I'm just more careful, always carrying overnight gear, rations for a few days, plenty of water, and even a rifle. We're not really supposed to carry guns, but if I get crap for it, I'll just say it's for bears.

Better to look foolhardy, than let them know what it's really for. I guess that brings me to the realization that I don't trust my supervisor at all. I've got a strong gut feeling that something's up with him, I just don't know what yet. I'm not sure how much I trust the other Rangers either. They seem to readily accept Jonathan's explanation

about the fire that almost killed us. If there is some sort of cover-up or conspiracy going on, there's no one telling how high up it goes, or who all is involved. Anyone could be in on it and have an incentive to keep quiet. I should also tell you, I'm probably going to get pulled from my post in the north in the next couple of days,

unless something changes. A young girl went missing yesterday in the southern part of the forest. They've kept it quiet so far, but if they don't find her soon, they're going to have to pull us all in to help look for her. Normally they leave this kind of thing to search and rescue, but I heard from one of the rangers who works closely with Jonathan that some big people in administration aren't happy with another missing person,

so we're getting looped into this too. Whatever is going on between the dead deer, bizarre fires, strange trails, and the missing girls. It all feels connected. As much as I want to, I can't leave now. Whatever is going on, it's messed up, and I don't want to stop until I get to the bottom of it. I spent all last night downloading low-res satellite and topographic maps of the forest where the girl went missing, since I haven't worked there that much. Whatever people were even doing down there is beyond me. It's a mostly forested, mountainous region,

with an incredibly rapid elevation increase of several thousand feet. And I spent a lot of time looking this up, because I couldn't believe it. But the area this girl went missing in is also supposed to be mostly undeveloped. Besides an old mining outpost that was forcibly closed in the 30s, after environmental concerns. The forest service is normally pretty relaxed as far as conservation, goes. But from the old news reports I've found, this place was responsible for killing off large amounts of game, polluting the entire watershed, and spreading horrible illnesses amongst the miners.

The search effort isn't coming within miles of this place for whatever reason, but the nature of its closing makes me wonder if there's something more to it. Most of the old mines around here closed during the 60s, after it became apparent that there wasn't an abundant amount of gold in the mountains. None of these minds were particularly careful about conservation, and like I said, the Forest Service doesn't normally stick their nose in, so how this one closed struck me as odd. Ryan's story about the Native American wanderers got me curious about other folklore from this area, but I haven't been able to find anything. States in the West, and really, most federal nature preserves, do a pretty good job of documenting Native American culture and view it as a responsibility due to their tragic

treatment. But I couldn't find much besides a list of a few tribes that may have passed through here in the initial land migration thousands of years ago. I dug a little deeper and stumbled across an old nature-themed internet forum, talking about weird stuff in the woods that mentioned strange tales. The poster was someone homesteading off cheap government land in the mountains who discovered a huge system of trails. They were a little larger than deer paths and let off the poster's property. and through the forest for over 40 miles. These didn't sound like the trails I found, but they were similar enough to keep me interested.

They specifically mentioned that these weren't documented in any map, so how could such an extensive system of trails remain undiscovered? I wanted to message the poster, but the account was deleted years ago, and this was written back when the internet was all anonymous, so they made sure there weren't any identifying details in the post that led back to them. The rest of the thread seemed like mostly speculation.

One guy asked if there was a sizable deer population, claiming large herds break into smaller families that sometimes inadvertently create these types of trail systems. The original poster didn't think this was the case, though, as they hadn't found any evidence of recent activity or a large deer population, both of which would have been necessary for something this extensive. The same went for the trails I found. Another user suggested that they stay as far away from these trails as possible,

saying they've seen the same thing, and that they're time holes. If you go in, the trails may twist beyond you, trapping you in, and no matter how far you wander off the trail, you'll end up back on the same trail. Eventually, a trail will open with a pathway out again, but you may come out at a different place in time, then you entered. I'm aware it's the internet, and there's no reason to take anything on here as truth, but this sounded eerily familiar, and the forest is just weird in that way. Truth is often stranger than fiction out here.

Stories around the campfire are usually based on some distant truth, sometimes more disturbing. I promise not to tell too many campfire stories. I'm sure you've heard enough, but this one is my personal favorite, and my biggest fear. It goes something like this. You're backpacking in the mountains one day, which are notorious for unpredictable weather. High-speed winds, storms, sleet, and rain can form around the peaks without any warning. All backpackers know this if they're even remotely experienced, so everyone always carries gear and equipment to safely survive any type of weather you might experience.

This isn't such a big deal on a day hike, but if you're going on a multiple day trek, it's essential. Today, you're backpacking on a familiar trail off the main path through the backcountry winding up the crest of the mountain. You didn't see it marked on the map anywhere, but you were curious, and it didn't look too intensive, so you decide to check it out for a few miles. After a while, you spot another backpacker in the distance. He's by himself, coming down the mountain towards you while you're hiking up. Nothing is alarming at first, but then he gets closer.

wearing a white hat and a green rain jacket and rain pants covering black hiking boots. You wave at him when he's about a hundred yards away, but he doesn't seem to notice. He gets closer, and you realize that other than his clothes, he has no gear at all, no backpack, or even a water bottle. He walks by you with his head down, not saying anything, and speeds up once he passes you, almost trotting down the mountain. You briefly wonder if he's camped out somewhere, but you don't remember seeing a tent or supplies anywhere. You walk another mile, thinking his camp must be somewhere up ahead, but you find nothing. Then movement catches your eye, and you spot him crossing over the hill in front of you,

coming down ahead of you again. Suddenly, everything about him feels wrong, and you take off down the trail back to the main path. You see him again an hour later, but this time halfway up the steep valley the trail crosses the top of. He's struggling to climb the rocky mountain side. You hear him loudly moaning, incoherent noises filling the valley, and you call out to him. But he stops making noise and goes quiet. Unnerved, you get back to the path and hike the rest of the trek faster than ever before, sleeping very little.

You don't see him again. When you get back to civilization a few days later, you talk to local rangers about what you saw and the unmarked trail, but they have no record of any. trail ever existing there, or anyone else who registered to hike in that particular back country trek, though it was a self-registration system. They tell you they'll send someone to check in on it, but you never hear back from them, and that's fine with you. That's pretty much it. There's a lot of variations of the story. Everyone who's been in the wilderness is afraid of meeting the impossible man. He shouldn't be there, but he is. The forest is overflowing with stories

like that. Practically half the time rangers spend socializing, we just tell each other's stories. In many cases outside the forest, I'd be inclined to say that word of mouth is unreliable, but spend some considerable time in the woods, and being alone will change your mind. People's experiences and gut feelings are different in nature. You trust stories, because the farther you get into the mountains and the forest, the less relevant time and truth become. What exists out there? just is, and what you think should, or what is supposed to, doesn't pertain to the reality. Some of us like stories with conclusive endings, but I've always preferred the more ambiguous ones. However, somehow, they feel more plausible, especially lately. I can't make sense of anything.

Put back to what I do know, there are unusual things going on in the forest, and they're tied together. Hopefully, this girl shows up alive soon, but I somehow doubt it. Once I get reassigned down there, I'm going to see if I can sneak away and check out the old mining outposts. It seems like a good start. If you don't receive another update, assume the worst. And stay away from the strange trails in the forest. A few years ago, I was running my own company from home, and I took on more work than I could handle. I did graphic design for several companies and a handful of larger corporations, which put me under

a lot of pressure to deliver. Long story short, too many deadlines and not enough time for me to rest. I decided I needed a break, or I would certainly suffer a burnout soon enough. Lucky for me, I had quite a bit of money saved up, so I could afford it. I took a couple months off to clear my head. After a few days of me trying to relax and failing to do so, I realized that I needed to get away from my house. Essentially, I was spending my vacation in an office, feeling guilty I didn't do any work. I decided to get away from the city and spend a few weeks at my family's old summer cabin instead. I packed my bags and headed out of town early the next morning. While driving, I was a bit nervous.

Nobody had been in the cabin for at least a year, and there had been a few severe storms during that time. So who knew if the cabin was still standing? Well, in any case, I was about to find out. When I arrived, I was relieved to see that the cabin looked exactly like when we left it last year, and so did the shed. The lawn was a bit overgrown, but that was okay. I really needed some physical work after months and months of sitting in front of a screen.

Then I would chop some firewood for the grill, stuff my face with steak and sandwiches and fall asleep. Perfect. Set and done, sometime later, I was chilling in the hammock I set up on the porch, satisfied and drowsy. I could feel myself drifting off, so I set an alarm on my phone to make sure I woke up before dark. As far as I know, there hadn't been any animal attacks or anything, but I wanted to be safe anyway. I put my phone on the porch railing and fell asleep second later. I woke up before the alarm could go off to the sound of rain hitting the metal roof on the porch. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and immediately thought of making another sandwich when I noticed an odd

shape, maybe 50 yards away in the woods. There, sticking out of the brush, I saw a gray, almost purple human looking head staring right at me, completely still. I was too far away to make out any distinct details, but I could definitely see. large dark eyes in its almost skull-like head. I don't know how to describe the mouth or snout, though. Imagine a dog snout, but make it shorter and wider, more akin to the jaws of a lizard with no visible nose. It was just so weird looking. The head looked so human, but at the same time, it didn't. I wasn't even sure if it was a living thing because it was so still. A drop of rain must have hit its eye or something because it flinched or twitched.

I was freaking out. This was definitely a living thing staring at me. I slowly got out of the hammock, trying not to fall or stumble, as to not give this potentially hostile creature any chance to charge at me. I backed to the door, fumbling with the handle, and as soon as I got it open, I turned and ran inside as fast as I could, slamming the door behind me.

I immediately looked out the window and saw, the thing was still there, sitting in the same place. I think it noticed me peeking out the window, moving its head just a little bit, staring at me again. I was freaking out, wondering what that thing was. Surely it was just some sickly animal that picked up the smell of food, right? Our staring contest continued a minute or two before I drew the curtains. I jumped to the sound of my alarm going off. My phone was still outside. I thought about it for a moment before I slowly opened the door, thinking that I would be able to grab it and get back inside before that thing could get into the house.

My eyes fell on the spot I had last seen the creature, and to my horror, it wasn't there anymore. I immediately regretted my decision and shut the door again, without getting my phone. I was about to look out my window again when I heard something step onto the porch. My heart was thumping, and I made an effort to hide my heavy breathing, and listened as hard as I could. I heard ropes creaking, then a snap and a heavy thud.

This thing had just tore down my hammock. I heard the steps approaching the door, and the handle started moving slowly. At that moment I felt sick and wanted to scream, but I couldn't. The thing was carefully trying to open the door and get inside. Then it stopped. The door handle stopped moving, and soon thereafter, I heard the thing stepping away from the door and off the porch.

Did it give up? I stood there with my back against the door for several minutes before I even moved an inch. I slowly made my way to the window and drew the curtains, and I will never forget what was waiting for me on the other side of the window. The last thing I remember before blacking out was the largest, emptiest black eyes I had ever seen on any living thing, a pale face riddled with purple veins and a huge smile lined with abnormally large dull teeth. I have no idea if I fainted or if some sort of primal part of my consciousness took over

and my brain went into some sort of suppression mode. Because when I woke up the next day, I was in the shed with a bunch of tools propped up against the door. I couldn't remember anything after I saw the face and I have no idea what happened. After hours of making sure nothing was outside, I ran to the porch, got my phone in jacket, and ran to the car as fast as I could. On my way home, I think I had a full-blown panic attack, but kept driving because I didn't want to stop. I drove straight to my parents' house and broke down crying in front of them, probably scaring the crap out of them. My therapist says that this was me not being able to differentiate between a nightmare and real life

due to high levels of work-related stress at the time. As for me, waking up in the shed, most likely stress-induced sleepwalking, according to her. Maybe I had some sort of breakdown, and was in worse shape than I thought, but I don't know about that. The thing is, though, my dad drove to get my stuff from the cabin. He noticed the hammock rope was indeed snapped,

and when he checked the shed, the door was broken in, as if something came back to get me after I already left. I don't know if what I saw was real or not, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to know. I have no idea how large it was, what its body looked like, or anything like that. I just remember its head from far away and its face, the eyes, the veins, the pale color, the mouth.

I've come to call it the blackout man. The outdoors isn't something I would consider myself acquainted with, the potent air from the moist soil, the non-stop chirps of life in every nook and cranny, and the ambiguous emptiness I feel when I'm among the trees are things that do not suit my daily life, nor my personality. Exchange the damp soil, chirping life, and emptiness for the smell of carbon exhaust from a passing bus,

the sound of commuters whistling through their morning walk, and the clear, overcrowded sight of a city street, and there you have my paradise. Growing up in the city injects thrill into every aspect of daily life, danger, adventure, and plain adrenaline can lurk around every city block. The natural world simply cannot produce

that same aspect of thrill in life. Not enough happens, not enough lurks in the corners of the thickets. That being said, I try staying away from nature as much as possible, remaining in the shadows of skyscrapers rather than the shadows of oak. However, being 17 and living with my recently retired, high-ranked naval father who has more than enough experience and memories with the woods, my paradise couldn't be present at all times.

This realization dawned on me when my father approached me to tell me we were spending a week in the cabin in the north woods. Are you serious? My emotionally accurate thought was interrupted when my dad handed me an oversized suitcase to toss in the back of the car. You might want to grab a pillow for the ride. We have a long way to go. He said, smirking.

This must be punishment for how late I'd came home from Stephanie's house last week. I thought to myself. Little did my father know my tardiness was due to the curious nature I was born with. I was simply walking around the dark streets exploring. Albeit, that may have been a rather dangerous and unintelligent venture. but no less filled with entertainment for myself. Punishment fits the not-so-crime-adjacent action, I guess. Nonetheless, we piled into the car and set off north.

The drive was seemingly endless. After about seven hours, there was nothing but dense forests surrounding us. It wasn't long before we spent the rest of the drive on gravel road, tossing and shaking in the car in such a way that no fishermen would be able to resist motion sickness. Upon arrival, the sight of a very underkept, not so sturdy-looking log cabin lay before us. Best home we could ask for out in these parts, huh, bud? My father said in a slightly teasing tone, Oh, you bet, I'm thinking it took a fortune to build her,

I said, rolling my eyes in resentment. After quickly unpacking the car and moving into our temporary home, my dad suggested we take a walk in the sea of surrounding pine and oak, with nothing to do other than staring at some truly talentless art hanging from the cabin walls. I accepted his request willingly, but not happily. As we plummeted into an endless abyss of trees, my comfort hastily left my being. Gone were the skyscrapers, the commuters whistling on their way to work, and the crowded, comforting city streets, only replaced with thick bark and oddly silence.

There was no chirping, no scurping, no street. singing of any life around us. In addition, I never truly felt empty or alone amongst the trees. Yes, my father was beside me, but there seemed to be something else present in the air. I couldn't quite put words to it. I pushed that to the far reaches of my mind. As we continued, I began to hear strange sounds from around us. They reminded me of the whistling commuters I encountered every day, but something was off. What is that? I was. I asked my dad. That is just the wind in the trees, the leaves rustling, and the wood creaking.

Almost sounds alive, doesn't it? He said. Uh, sure, I said, trying to push back the paranoid feeling growing inside me. Our walk was short, only about an hour. I tried not to think about the sinister feeling I received from the trees, but every now and again, it would tiptoe into my conscious mind. I sat lying beside the fire in the dusty family room when my dad approached me saying he had to run into town to grab a few things. How long will you be? I asked.

Oh, about a few hours or so. Unfortunately, the nearest town is about 50 miles from here, he said, sighing. And with that, he drove off to who knows whatever town would be in this barren wasteland. I sat watching the dancing flames of the family room fire for several minutes. minutes before boredom, pulsed through every vein in my body. For some reason, my natural curiosity pushed into my mind and triggered my exploratory being. Why not go for a little midnight stroll? As I stepped down the stairs of the rear patio, I noticed that the forest was filled with the sounds of crickets, frogs, and basically anything that dwells in the mud. This was a pleasant surprise, but the empty,

lonely aura surrounding me was not. What? You're going to be lonely no matter what until dad gets back. Might as well explore. And with that thought, I set off for a little moonlight adventure. I never noticed how beautiful the natural world was, honestly. Everything was just so primal. The chirps of the crickets, the croaks of the frogs, the light of the fireflies briefly illuminating the area, and the wind in the trees. Wait, where was the whistling noise that a accompanied the breeze earlier today. As if whatever higher power was out there

was playing a sick joke on me, the orchestra of nature ceased. There was nothing, nothing but silence. Even the wind came to a halt, causing the leaves of the tree to sit motionless, hanging from their branches as if they were in the gallows. The only thing that remained were the fireflies, still blessing their surroundings

with short bursts of light from their posterior. With the retreat of the sounds from the natural world came the approach of something more sinister. The approach of being accompanied by things that I simply could not lay my eyes on. As that feeling coursed through my body, the familiar sound of whistling filled my ears. I didn't know whether to act on my fight or flight instinct, so I merely stood still, waiting. The whistling grew louder and louder, coming from all directions, as it felt as if something was whistling directly into my ear, the fireflies shined on something. It was only for a second or two, but I could have sworn it was a person. Relief filled my body as I felt more safe with another

person being around, but that ignorant feeling quickly faded. What would another person be doing so far out here, and why would they be following me? That thought died as soon as the fireflies illuminated once more. It was not a person. Whatever was standing a few feet away from me in the shadows didn't look like something God would have created. It had the figure of a humanoid being, but its limbs were elongated and bent at unnatural angles. Atop its disfigured, human-like body was a round head that housed two sunken pale eyes and a gaping maw filled with needle-pointed teeth. However, that was the only one that stood directly before me. There were others.

I couldn't see them fully, but their awful silhouettes sickened me to the point where I desired no further physical details of their appearance. Still frozen, in some sort of shock, the closest being crept closer and closer. As it got a few inches away from my body, it let out a loud, familiar whistle

through its open, grinning mouth. As if some sort of electrical shock pulsed through my body, I suddenly threw myself into an all-out sprint towards the cabin with the whistlers in close proximity. I hadn't realized how far I walked out into these woods, but the approximately 15-minute sprint gave me an idea. As the cabin lights filled my vision, I looked back to see my pursuers were about 50 feet behind me, and there were too many of them to count. They ran in such unnatural ways that the mere sight of it made me nauseous. I practically broke down the back door of the cabin.

After bursting through, I managed to close the door and lock it behind me. I quickly did so with each door and window throughout the cabin. Then barricaded myself in the upstairs closet, waiting for my dad to get home, and hopefully get me out of this hell he put me into. All I could do is sit and try to keep quiet. I heard thumps and scratches coming from the ceiling, most likely from those things crawling on the roof. The whistling never stopped. It was a constant reminder of the creature's presence.

I sat in fear for what felt like an eternity until the whistlers erupted into what sounded like crackling, maybe laughter. Shortly after they began their unnatural course of laughter, silence tore through the place, leaving a stale, sinister sense in my ears. Maybe it's safe to come out. Maybe they got bored or just simply couldn't get into the house. As I was about to open the closet door, a familiar sound echoed from the back of my closet. I wasn't in the city, so that whistling wasn't coming from a commuter. My family has owned a log cabin on the edge of a lake for generations. Well, I shouldn't say they owned the log cabin, since the actual building has been torn down and rebuilt from scratch

several times since the original owners built it well over a century ago. No, my family has owned a large, beautiful plot of land in one of the only clearings around the lake would be a more appropriate way to put it. The current iteration of the family cabin was built from the ground up in the 80s by my father, who left it vacant for a while after its completion for reasons I've never actually learned. When he started the moving process into the rather small building, about 15 years after I moved out on my own and about three decades after he'd actually built it. He told me he had no reason to stay in his current house, seeing as I was long gone,

and my mother had passed away several months before, he said he could manage the move by himself and that I shouldn't worry about him. I felt bad about leaving all the work to him, but given his persistence, I knew that I wouldn't have a choice in the matter. That was roughly nine years ago, and I hadn't heard from my father at all since he moved away. I won't delve into specifics about my life, so as to keep it as anonymous as possible, but I'll tell you what I can about my family and myself. At the time of writing this, I am in my 40s with two children, both of which live on their own, one in a dorm, and one in an apartment with his girlfriend. Earlier this year, I lost my wife when she was on her way home from work, after hitting a patch of black ice and going off the road

into a tree. The first paramedics to arrive told me she died on impact, the only solace I'd been able to receive for the whole event. After the funeral, my sons and I became more distant, and I haven't heard a word from them in over five months. I can hardly blame them. They loved her very much, and they were still more than likely recovering. I was living alone in our house for about a month after the accident, still struggling to cope with her loss. When I received a letter telling me that my father had also passed away a few weeks before and that he'd left me several things in his will, the two stand-out items had been a sum of money

that I could easily live comfortably on for the rest of my life and never have to work again, and the deed to the land on the edge of the lake. Not having any reason to do otherwise, I decided to pack up what few things I thought I would need, and within a week, I was on my way to my new cabin. When I first arrived, I wasn't sure of what to make of the location.

A small cabin comprised of a kitchen, master bedroom, living room, and bathroom that was only accessible through a 10-minute drive down a dirt path didn't seem all that appealing, and had me considering turning around and heading home almost immediately. However, despite my initial feelings, I decided to give it a shot, at least spend a night there to give the place a fair chance. After settling in, I decided to cook up a simple meal with some groceries I'd picked up on the way, grabbed a book from the rather generously stocked bookshelf, and sat in an old recliner by the window with a perfect view of the lake. Time flew by, and before I knew it, I looked at the wall-mounted clock, only to find out it was

11 at night. Surprised, I placed the bookmarker between two pages, set the book down on a nearby table and went to bed for the night. The sound of nature at night proved to be a fantastic lullaby, and I ended up having the best night's sleep I've ever had, officially sold on the idea of calling this place my own home when I woke up the following morning. The next month or so went by peacefully. I spent most of my time, either reading or fishing down at the handmade dock at the edge of the property, while deviating every now and again for a canoe ride around the lake or a walk through the woods. I was only just getting used to my new, pleasant life when suddenly things started to happen around the property that I thought were only my imagination at first.

Late at night, when falling asleep to the gentle breeze pushing through the trees and the sound of crickets that proved to be a lull for me, I began to hear what sounded like faint humming, mixed with the unusual nightly sounds. It was faint at first, making me think it was only my mind playing tricks on me, but over the course of several weeks, the sound had become more pervasive, becoming louder than simply a quiet instrument of the night's orchestra, but not so loud as to sound more than a whisper.

The hums did not come every night. In fact, there wasn't much consistency when it came to most of the chilling things that I'd experienced in my time there. Shortly after the humming began at night, things started to happen during my daily routines that I couldn't explain. On my occasional trips around the lake and the canoe, I'd look over the tree line

and swear that I saw something that looked like a person, and even though at first I tried calling out to them, only to be met with silence, I assumed it was my mind playing tricks on me for spending most of my time away from civilization, except for my occasional grocery run. On my walks around the woods, I would hear twigs snapping as well as crunching leaves from pretty much everywhere that wasn't in line of sight. On one venture, I even came across a rabbit that looked

like it had snapped its neck, which seemed almost impossible for it to do, seeing it was in a small, flat clearing. After that encounter, I stopped my walks through the woods, sticking only to the property and never venturing into the trees. It was around the end of my third, month there, where I found myself hardly able to tolerate all the strange things happening around the cabin and thought about leaving it until the night that put all of the other oddities to shame. I noticed when I went to bed that night that the woods around me were alarmingly quiet. Not a single insect made a noise, no wind blew at all, and the only sound that kept me company was my slow breathing as I attempted to sleep. Right when I was about to nod off,

however. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the screen door to the cabin start to be widely opened and slammed shut as though someone was trying to tear it off its hinges. Terrified, I still had to figure out what was going on. So cautiously I got out of bed and tiptoed to my bedroom's doorway with a clear sight on the cabin's door. The blinds on the windows on either side of the door were pulled shut, only allowing the bright moonlight to shine through the crack at the bottom and the door was still being slammed shut with brutal force. Despite everything, I couldn't help but thank myself internally for never getting over my knee to lock the doors at night, even though

nobody lived around me anymore. After about 10 minutes of slamming, as quickly as it started, it subsided, leaving me shaken as I stood there in silence, anticipating for whatever was about to come next. It was only when the humming began again, filling the silent air, that I felt the need to further investigate. As I got closer to the door, the humming grew louder. Despite my skin crawling, however, it was far enough away that I felt opening the door was a safe move. Unbolting the door and pulling it open, the first thing that came into sight was the screen door, now bent and hanging from its hinges. It was only when I looked over the field surrounding the cabin, illuminated by the nearly blinding light of the full moon, that I saw somebody standing by the docks.

This figure not only appeared to be a slender woman, but also looked like the same person I'd seen around the lake on my canoe outings. Pushing past the remnants of the screen door, I stepped into the moon's light and started my cautious approach. With every step, the hum grew louder, even more eerie. What was first a soothing sound to fall asleep to, now felt like the soundtrack to my nightmares. When I reached the tree line, only a couple dozen feet in front of the woman at most. The humming paused as she started to turn towards me. I was

terrified at first, expecting to see something out of a horror movie staring back at me, but my dread was replaced with confusion, and the feeling of a knot in the pit of my stomach as her face came into the moon's light. Standing in front of me, roughly four months since her funeral, was my wife, looking just as she always had. My heart sank as I watched her pale lips form a smile, only starting to hum again once I'd seen her. I called out to her, only to be met with the same haunting melody, as she began to take slow steps away from me. As she neared the end of the dock, I found the shock wear off just enough for me to burst into a sprint towards her. Before I could reach her, though, she fell backwards into the water, but made no sound as she fell in,

not even causing much of a ripple in the otherwise still lake. I knelt down on the edge of the dock and reached into the water with one hand, calling her name frantically as I searched for her. It wasn't a deep section of water. She would have been able to grab my hand, only when something finally did, it wasn't her. I felt a tremendous grip on my forearm, as something tried pulling me into the water.

I anchored myself to the dock on one of the wooden supports as I fought, struggling and enduring a harsh pain to stop myself from falling in. After what felt like an hour of struggling, my arm was freed from the grasp of whatever was luring me into the water, and I wasted no time as I bolted back into the cabin. I didn't even look back, even when the humming started again. I slammed the door shut, bolted it before sliding the old recliner in front of it, and ran to the corner of the room where I waited through the rest of the night for sunrise to arrive.

As the sun rose above the trees and cast a light on the cabin, I gathered my belongings and ran to my car, making record time as I packed everything inside and jumped in, tearing down the dirt road with no comprehension of how fast I was actually going. With the money left in my inheritance, I was able to stay at a hotel until a nearby apartment freed up for me. Once I was settled in, I decided to do a little research on the cabin and the lake itself. It was only then I found out that every one of the previous owners had lost their spouses shortly before moving into the cabin,

and every one of them had drowned in the lake several months after taking up the residence, including my father. I didn't want to know any more than that. I had all the answers I needed. Several days after that discovery, I looked up a company willing to demolish the cabin, and another that would be willing to plant trees in the area to fill the gap caused by the sudden absence. of any structures. I've given it thought, and despite everything that happened, I'm choosing to hold on to the deed to the property.

I won't let whatever killed my family members by making poor replicas of their spouses have any opportunity to strike again. The knowledge of that cursed plot of land and the wretched cabin that once sat upon it now lives and dies with me. Here in central Michigan, almost everyone hunts,

Whether it's deer, rabbit, squirrel, turkey, or quail. We all hunt, so it's pretty common while I'm hunting on state land to run into a few other hunters. Normally, it's just frustrating. You pick your spot, settle in quietly for an hour, only to have some idiot go wandering 20 yards in front of your tree stand, right at prime time. This evening was one of those times when my hunt was interrupted, only instead of getting angry at first,

I was concerned, followed quickly by being terrified out of my mind. I got out to my stand around 4.30 p.m. Got all settled in, sat freezing for the next hour and a half, just watching the snow come down. It was starting to get dark pretty quickly. When to my left, I heard the sound every hunter loves hearing. Footsteps. My heart immediately started to pump faster as my adrenaline started to kick in. Very slowly, I turned my heart.

my head to the left, so I wouldn't alert the animal coming in that I was waiting 20 feet up in a tree. Instead of seeing a deer walking up, though, it was a man. Instantly, my adrenaline turned into anger, as yet again, my hunt was ruined. I stared him down, hoping he would back up and notice me in the tree, then turn around and go back the way he came. That way, there'd be a slight chance I could still see some deer. Once he got about 20 feet away from my stand, I noticed something was off about him. His body was completely stiff. His arms glued to his side, and he stared straight forward with a stone expression on his face. His legs, however, were taking these huge, high-knee steps, like he was sort of marching or exercising. I was a little creeped out at his

odd behavior, but not really scared yet. After a few seconds of watching him, I figured he was some idiot intentionally ruining my hunt. I was just about to shout out to the weirdo and ask what he was doing when a twig snapped a little ways off to my right. The guy froze and his head snapped in the direction of where the noise came from. He stared for a few seconds, then out of nowhere, took off running, impossibly fast, to whatever had caused the twig to snap. I stared surprised at how fast this thing was running. I kid you not, he had been running well over 30 miles per hour, as he closed 60 to 70 yards in about four seconds.

As he got to a tree, he scaled that tree faster than a squirrel could. My heart was hammering so loud at this point. I actually feared he would hear it and come for me next. The sounds of an animal screeching, as it was being torn about, rang through the woods. Whatever it was, he caught it, and was what I'm guessing, eating it alive. After a couple seconds of screeching, the woods fell completely silent, other than my frantic breathing. I closed my eyes and took three deep, slow breaths to settle my nerves.

When I opened my eyes back up, my heart took another leap, as the guy was standing 20 feet away, looking down in the snow at something. My footprints in the snow. Oh, please no, I thought to myself. I'm not ashamed to admit I was in tears at this point. I was so afraid. I slowly reached to my side and put my hand on my pistol I always carried with me in case it came down to it. I watched in terror as he slowly followed my footsteps.

He crept along until he stood directly under my tree. Then he slowly lifted his head up until he looked directly at me. We stared at each other for a good couple of seconds until he put his hand on the ladder leading to my stand, getting ready to climb up. I was completely paralyzed in fear as I watched him slowly pull himself up the first step. Then, by the grace of God, I heard a voice somewhere in the distance.

The creepy guy heard it too, and he hopped back down onto the ground. Jim, I got one. I heard the guy in the distance shout to someone, probably his buddy. The guy under my stand took off running as fast as before towards the other hunter's voice. I saw my only chance to get out of there, so I undid my harness in record time and practically jumped out of the tree and started running back to my truck.

Thankfully I wasn't too far in and soon made it over the small hill. I looked back to see if he was chasing me, but I was in the clear. I got to my truck and threw my bow in and jumped in, starting it and pulling away as fast as I could. With snow, I wasn't able to drive as quickly as I wanted, but after an intense ten minutes, I was back on the main road. I don't know what that was, but I know one thing. I'm not hunting in state land ever again. Once, my uncle told me of a story about how he had seen Skinwalkers by Shiprock, New Mexico. My uncle was a long-haul truck driver. He was coming back from Colorado and had pulled over by the shiprock to stretch his legs and let his dog pee.

We are Navajo, so he knew better than to be walking around after sundown. But he was always mischievous and curious. His dog Moose got out and peed right away and wanted right back in the truck. No matter what my uncle did, he couldn't convince Moose to take a walk with him, even though they'd been in the truck for over ten hours. So, my uncle takes a walk toward the walk. So, my uncle takes a walk toward the actual shiprock, and it's almost sundown. He continues to climb the rock. See, his friend told him a story about a secret cave up on top, and he wanted to see if it was true.

He continued to climb and circle the mountain. Soon he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He felt wrong in the pit of his stomach, but he had to see what was going on up there. Soon he began to feel a weird vibration in his feet, but before he could process what was happening, he heard chanting. He began to climb again. The higher he went, the louder the chance got. It was almost as if they were calling to him. Soon he began to see a glow on the rocks. The closer he got,

the more he could see the fire dancing against the rock walls. He carefully slid up a rock, and he was shocked to see four men dancing in animal skins. They circled the fire, always dancing, always chanting. Soon they began to change right before my uncle's eyes. My uncle was hidden low, but unable to move. The men's legs began to change as they danced. They were throwing some sort of herb into the fire and danced round and round. My uncle watched as their hands began to turn into pause, but they still danced.

Soon their faces began to morph and blur. My uncle felt a sickness take place in his chest. and stomach. But what could he do now? He had to stay hidden. Their coyote faces still chanting, and their long coyote legs still danced. Soon their melodic chanting turned into howling, they danced with two legs. The night was dark. There was no moon, no light except the light that came from the fire. My uncle wanted to run, but he knew if he ran, it would be sure death. While he was thinking, all of the sudden the skin walkers took off in a blink of an eye. They ran down the mountain as if it was nothing.

My uncle watched as they all went in different directions. He knew this was his only chance to escape. He tore down the mountain like he had a rocket strapped to his back. He finally made it to his truck. His hair was still standing on his arms. He jumped up to open the door and there by the handle was a giant coyote print. It was red. He dared not to touch it.

He opened up the door and started up his truck and got out of there as fast as he could. He started to head towards Gallup, New Mexico. He was doing 70 down the highway, trying to get as far away as he could. When he looked out his passenger side window, he saw a giant coyote keeping pace with him. My uncle said it was almost like it smiled at him. It then ran off into the desert, and he never saw it again. He got the courage to go back up the mountain in the daytime a couple years later. He couldn't find the cave, and there was no evidence anything had ever happened there.

He was sure some sort of bad medicine made it possible for them to do what they did. He also told me that he was wearing his cedarberry necklace my grandma had made him. It had shielded and protected him. He died about a decade later, having bad luck the rest of his life. Respect the old ways. Don't be going out at night looking for evil because it just might find you. This experience happened to me a long time ago, and I forgot about it for the most part. But one day, I was watching a video about different old beliefs and things,

and somewhere they mentioned skinwalkers and about how somebody saw their friend with dead eyes or a loved one's voice. But I'm not sure if this thing qualified. When I was in the fifth grade, I went camping with my family. my cousins, uncle, aunt, and her boyfriend. I remember this day specifically because it was the first time I ever went camping. We stayed at a lake in upstate New York. I'm not sure exactly where in upstate New York, but I can ask my aunt if she remembers. Because of how long ago this is, I can only faintly remember some details. When we first got there, the first thing I did was

sit in the car and text my mom I was safe. Unbeknownst to me, that was a lie. It was evening, so we decided to unpack some things. There was a wooden platform for tents, and we set up our tent surprisingly easily. Quickly, the day turned to night, so we ate some sandwiches that were pre-packed, and my uncle tried to teach us how to make a campfire. After making a circle of stones, putting wood and sticks in the form that he told us to, and ripping pieces of paper, and tissue up, lighting the fire came next. Given my experience with matches, it only took me a few tries to light up the first paper, but marshmallows quickly came after. We were all getting tired, so we stopped feeding the fire until it got low enough to put it out with water and feet. After this,

I sat in the car again and texted my mom I was going to sleep. My mother was very overprotective, and this was necessary for her to sleep soundly back in my apartment. I didn't own a sleeping bag, so I wrapped myself in a quilt and shared the tent with one of my cousins. The other slept with her dad in the bigger tent, three tents total. My cousin, who was staying in the tent with me, let's call her Jess, told me to put my shoes right next to hers, so I did. She fell asleep quicker than I did, but eventually we both fell asleep. My aunt is big on no technology, so we had to leave our phones in the car.

I woke up to Jess calling me from outside the tent. When I looked over, all I saw was a lump of quilt and a pillow. So I walked out of the tent to see her walking towards the woods. It was very, very dark. Normally, in the city, there's no stars because of light pollution. Upstate, however, the stars were beautiful. She said, come look at the stars. and I of course followed her into the woods.

But every time I walked to her, she walked farther away from me. She kept repeating over and over again. Isn't this so much prettier than the city? And walking away farther and farther. At this point, I started to get worried we would get lost, and she was still a good 10 to 15 feet away from me as she spoke. I told her, we might get lost. Why don't we stick together or turn back soon?

At this point, she started to sound a little angry. No, just follow me. We're almost there. She started to sound a little fishy. So I asked, where exactly are we going? Her voice became almost robotically angry. Why don't you just trust me? It sounded like something my mom would say

whenever I would ask something too many times. Almost like she could read my mind. She started walking more, expecting me to follow her. I did for a few. steps, but the more I tried to trust her, the more worried I got. Here was the first why question. Why are we even doing this? I said. And there was no response, except for a grunt of some sort, like an annoyed grunt. Jess? And that's when I knew something was wrong. Because I said so, she said, but it sounded like my mother, exactly like my mother, so extremely like my mother,

that for a millisecond I was relieved. But then I remembered my mother was not with us on this camping trip. Mom? I said, confused and scared now. I started backing away, and that thing started coming closer. Hello? Who are you? I said, starting to back away.

You know me, it said. It was switching between my mother and my cousin as I backed away. I have the worst sense of direction. so at this point I had forgotten which way was back, but I ran. I ran in the opposite direction of the thing. I've never been an exceptional runner. In track, I always finished last. I never liked running, but here, I felt I was running faster than the fastest runner I knew.

Nonetheless, I kept running. I heard a faint. Come back, wait, behind me. But I didn't hesitate. I was like a scared dog. eyes ahead, full speed. The run back felt a lot longer than the walk to wherever we were. But soon, I saw some trees that I pulled dried leaves and sticks from earlier. I ran so fast to my tent and looked behind me. There was what either looked like two yellow eyes

or a tiny car's headlights is the best I could describe it. It seemed to be standing still, though. Almost tripping on the wooden platform, I went straight back into the tent and kicked off my shoes faster than ever before. When I looked back at what I previously mistook to be a lump of quilt, Jess was sleeping there the entire time. I was breathing extremely heavy, but I laid down closer to Jess than before, shivering. I remembered we were told strictly to not go outside our tents during the night, so I didn't tell her about what happened, to avoid getting into trouble. Multiple times during the night, I heard different noises. At one point, I heard our car driving away, and even faintly, running somewhere in the distance.

I chose not to pay attention to those noises, though. In the morning, I was the last one to wake up. I woke up not thinking about the night prior, but thinking it was a nightmare or something. When I walked outside the tent, though, my cousin's flashlight was on the floor, near where I had entered the woods. Also, my throne's shoes were not next to my cousins,

but where I threw them. I can't think of other proof that this wasn't a night-and-lawful. but there was a dead squirrel near the car for some reason. Besides the horrible adventure that had happened throughout the night, the day went on as normal. I heard no noises or voices, but I did ask my cousin if she got up during the night. She said no, but I did wake her up a bit when I moved a bit close to her. She tried to forget about what happened, and soon my thoughts were mostly about the lake we were swimming in. There was nothing sketchy about the lake.

the lake. It was meant to be swam in, with beaches and lifeguards. After the beach, we got ice cream, ate at the picnic bench, and my other cousin taught me how to play a card game. Another strange thing, though, my phone mysteriously disappeared during the night. It was not in the car when I checked, and it wasn't in the trunk after we pulled everything out. I was in fifth grade, though, and it was just a small free phone my mother gave me to contact her. She wasn't too upset about the loss of this phone. After arriving back to the city, I didn't tell anybody about the experience until school started again. I told a friend or two in my class, but it wasn't mentioned again. The surreal, horrific experience was truly scary. My wife and I decided to go camping this past weekend.

It was the first time we both had time off together in months and wanted to spend it unplugged from the rest of the world, just the two of us. We chose a scenic spot. We chose a scenic spot. We chose a spot in the North Georgia Mountains, about a two and a half hour drive from where we live in Atlanta. It wasn't too far out, but we'd heard from friends that once you get up into those hills, you feel completely isolated from the modern world. We both have been camping before, but it had been a while. I was in Boy Scouts, but I wouldn't call myself a natural in the wilderness. Despite our lack of survival skills, we ended up booking one of the park's backcountry sites. For those that may not know, that means you're more separated from the rest of the campers.

There is no electricity or water, and you have to hike a fair bit to get there. You feel like you're really on your own that way. Our sight in particular was very wooded and felt particularly isolating, in a good way. Or at least, that's what we thought at first. We got there early in the day, because we wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to unpack and set up camp. We also wanted to get in some good hiking while there was plenty of daylight out. After several hours of hiking, we got back to our campsite around 7 p.m. It was really starting to get dark at this point, so we lit a campfire and made dinner. This is all sounding pretty normal, right? You're probably thinking. This is a pretty basic camping trip. Why did this guy post this here? Well,

it wasn't until we turned in for the night that things started getting weird. It wasn't late when we went to bed, mainly because we were exhausted from the day, but also had an early start planned for the next. After a few uncomfortable hours trying to sleep in a small tent, not designed for my 6'3 frame, and my wife huddled next to me, I was awoken around 1 or 2 a.m. I don't know for sure because I was honestly too scared to check my phone for the time. There was a weird, sudden noise outside the tent. At first, I sort of just rode it off as just some random animal running through the sight. The initial high-pitched sound was far enough that I felt like I didn't need to worry. But then I noticed the sounds weren't leaving, and they weren't getting farther away.

Suddenly, startling squeals interrupted by the sound of leaves being trampled, like something was running between our stuff, broke the sharp silence of the woods. So, at this point, I'm pretty awake. I laid there still, wanting to make sure that whatever it was didn't get into any of our stuff, but also worried just enough to not dare reach for the zipper on our tent door. I started listening more closely and began to notice different variations in sounds. Like all of the sudden, all the movement would stop. I could hear light, slow sniffing, like it was trying to memorize our scent. I was getting used to the faint sniffing sound, only to be surprised by the sound of rushing,

determined footsteps barreling toward the tent. They stopped just short of the spot where the top of my head grazed the tent wall. It started to sniff again. I could now feel something, its nose probably, pressing against the thin wall. Now that it was closer, I could sort of make out its size, about that of a large dog, like a German shepherd, maybe bigger. Maybe someone's dog got out and was running between campsites. Hard to tell while you're holding your breath and keeping one eye shut.

When the sniffing stopped, I heard feet shuffled back quickly away from the tent, as if it had gotten a whiff of something it didn't like. Possibly me. That's when it started growling. The growl is sort of hard to explain. It wasn't a dog. That's for sure. The best way I can describe it is like a cat who is pissed off, but much lower pitch. Too low, maybe for a cat.

Almost like a guttural sounds of a wild hog. But even that wasn't quite right. Over and over it growled at me. It felt like forever. Now my mind was racing. I didn't know what to do. Should I try and scare it? Make lots of noise?

Maybe there's something in my tent I can grab and use as a weapon. I thought about everything within reach. My flashlight was within my finger's length and my backpack against the wall by my feet. I knew I had a pocket knife in there, but I didn't think I'd be able to get it without making a lot of noise, probably too much noise.

The next few moments I think I will remember for the rest of my life. The creature started moving again, only this time, slowly. It circled the tent like a lion stalking its prey, stopping every once in a while to get a sniff here and there. I think it was getting its bearings, you know, trying to figure out where the smell was strongest. It made a full circle right back to where my head was pressed up against the wall. The growling sounded even more.

irritated, even more guttural. I knew my wife was awake now. I feel her hand working down my arm before wrapping her finger around my wrist in a death grip. It was then I realized the creature outside was now pressing against the wall. I could make out a shallow hole and points through the thin fabric. Teeth? Lots of them. It began to lick the tent wall, grazing its teeth on the fabric, like it just wanted a taste. The next thing that happened is the real reason I have to had to post here. After what felt like forever, the creature stopped. It stopped growling, stopped moving. For all I knew, it was just standing there outside the tent, thinking about its next move. I braced for something. I wasn't sure what, but I just continued lying there,

waiting. Was it about to pounce? Was it done? As the seconds ticked on, my fear dissolved into anger. I was sick of lying there, simply wanting for something to happen to us. In a moment of dumb bravery, I grabbed my light and my backpack, thinking maybe I could use it as a shield and ripped open the tent door. I stepped out and waved my light around the campsite. I saw nothing, not even a rustling of leaves in the distance, as if something was running away. I suddenly felt stupid. It had to have been some random animal I tricked myself into thinking was some sort of wool-esling. monster rearing to eat me and my wife. I took one last look between the trees before turning

around to get back in my tent. That's when I saw it, right outside, right where my head had been resting against the wall, were footprints, unmistakably human. I grew up in the south, tons of beautiful places to see that haven't been taken over by concrete yet. It's nice, but along with that, it's pretty boring. Being a team, teenager and wanting to go out and have fun led to mostly improvising with your buddies and hoping some good will come out of the night. There wasn't really a local spot to go hang out like a club or a cool bar, and the places that were close to this was often boring because you did them so many times. I'm sure if you've ever lived in a rural area, you can understand that feeling completely. Something that I found a ton of

enjoyment in as a teenager, was cruising around super late at night, listening to music. I would fill my gas tank up, grab something to drink, and I would just take off driving until the sun came up. It was a way for me to clear my mind and relax. Those country back roads were always fun to drive down at 2 a.m. and was also just the right amount of spooky. Well, one night, I absolutely got more than I bargained for. I can't remember what month it was exactly, but I know for a fact it was in the summertime, because I was out of school, and I also remember it being a comfortable chilly night. So if I was to guess, it had just been around July or August. I was cruising around like I always did, and was completely worry-free. I had music blaring, and I was in my zone. I decided to head down to a park,

just out of pure boredom. This particular park is at the very end of a long stretch of a desolate country road, but it's a really pretty drive because of that. When I say desolate country road, I don't mean it's one of those dirt roads that go through the woods or anything crazy like that. It's a normal paved road, but there is really nothing on it after a certain point. The entire road takes about 20 minutes to drive down to and get to the park. And after about 10 minutes into the drive, the houses start getting spread out further and further to becoming no houses and just road leading to the park. I think a lot of the reason I like this drive at night is because of how creepy it was, and I looked at it as some sort of an adventure or whatever.

The park isn't open for camping or anything. It's mostly just a lot of land, with walking trails and biking trails set up through miles of woods. So obviously, at around 3 in the morning, it's pretty quiet. I made it there and just did a slow, normal little loop around drive of the park. The night before, it stormed very badly. So badly, I remember my parents and I had to take shelter because of the threat of a tornado touchdown. There ended up being no tornado, but the storms were pretty rough.

Because of this, I came up on a fallen tree in the road that looped around to the exit of the park. That must have happened because of the storm. It wasn't some massive tree or anything. but I knew for a fact that there was no way I could have gotten over it in my car. It was pitch black everywhere, besides the front of my car because of my headlights. And because of that, I immediately ruled out backing up the entire way I just drove when I entered the park. I knew that was super dangerous, and there was no way. At this point on the road, there was flat land on each side of me.

I figured that it would make the most sense to just back out on the grass beside me, just a little and drive back the way I came. It was a one-way loop around the park, but I wasn't really worried about going out the wrong way since it was so late. So I started to back up off the road so I could get my car turned around. All was good until when I went to pull back up on the road,

I totally didn't take into account how wet the grass was and the amount of mud. My car went absolutely nowhere. My back tires were completely stuck and were spinning in place as I was. was trying to floor the gas pedal. I started to become pretty scared at this point, not the most ideal situation to be in.

I immediately take my cell phone out of my pocket and saw that I had service. Super huge feeling of relief. I called my parents and told them what happened and where I was. They were pretty mad at me, but said they will pay for a tow truck to come out and get me. My parents both drive small four-door sedans

and they would have been absolutely zero help in the situation. I was about 45 minutes away from my house and the rest of most human civilization, so I realized that I would be stuck out here for at least an hour before someone was able to get to me. Freaky feeling, but I tried to get out of my head, and I just continued to listen to music and be on my phone in the car while I waited. Not really much more I could do. After I kind of calmed down from the initial anger I had, I started to check out my surroundings. I didn't even notice at first because of everything going on, but in front of my car's placement was a field that was full of the most amount of deer I think I'd ever seen at once.

There legitimately must have been 40 deer in that field, just walking around and eating the grass. The field wasn't directly in front of my car, but if I was to get out and throw a rock in the direction, I would have easily been able to hit one of them. So if I was to guess, they were about 30 yards out. This didn't really help with the creepy level going on. Looking out the front of my car and seeing 80 eye reflection staring back at you is a bit of an alarming feeling overall. But I was relieved.

It was just a field of deer. I watched them for a little bit, but I was quickly over it and started to just browse through my social media apps while waiting. They seemed to have been over it quicker than I was because they all went back to walking around and eating. Once they figured out I wasn't going to attack them or anything. After browsing my phone for about 15 minutes, I finally get a call back from my parents, letting me know that a tow truck guy is on the way, and about an hour and a half away from my location.

Still, to this day, I remember hearing that and having the thought, You gotta be kidding me. I understood that me, and only me, was the reason I was in the situation I was in, so I couldn't really be mad at anyone else. But that was very obviously, not what I wanted to hear. I decided that the smartest thing for me to do was just make sure the doors were all locked, lay back in my seat, and take a nap to pass time more quickly. So that's what I did. So I wake up about 45 minutes later to the feeling of being watched. I'm not sure if anyone has ever experienced that feeling before,

because I don't know how common it is. But there was a six-sense alarm going off in my head telling me that I needed to wake up. Waking up to that feeling in the situation I was in and the surrounding I was in is probably the worst case scenario. I sit up and immediately check my surroundings and see nothing. I looked through my car very quickly for any sort of weapon and found my pocket knife. I was very scared. Even though I saw and heard absolutely nothing, that feeling is terrifying. I was shocked to see the field of deer in front of me was still full of deer.

I don't know anything about the animal, but I guess I always just assume that they don't hang around in the same place for long. Not sure why I thought that, but I was surprised to see them nonetheless. I called my parents back to see if they heard any kind of update from the tow truck dude. I decided not to mention the feeling I was having because I didn't want them to worry more. And I also knew that it was literally nothing more than a feeling I had, and had nothing to back up why I was feeling that way, other than just being spooked out and just being spooked out and just. general. No update from the tow truck guy, so we assumed everything was still the same on his end. The call lasted just a few minutes, because I felt like a jerk. They both had to wake up for work in a few

hours. Now have to spend a random $100 plus dollars, and on top of all of that, they were worried about me. I could tell they were annoyed at the situation, but worried. I told them, I'll make sure to tell them when the guy arrives, and I'm sorry. We hang up, and I look up for the guy. We hang up, and I look up from the phone and immediately went from zero to a hundred in panic mode. The deer in front of me were all completely perked up, staring in the same direction. Let me remind you, there are around 40 deer in this field. Every single one of them were stopped dead in their tracks, standing completely still, looking at something. I put my high beams on and started waiting for absolutely anything to happen at all. Nothing. I tapped my horn real quick.

They didn't even budge or look my way. They were all completely glued to what was by them. The way the tree line was, I couldn't see that far over the field. I know they were looking into the woods by them, but where I was at, I was only able to see them. I could hear my heartbeat. I grabbed that stupid pocket knife and just waited for something to happen. I would say it was about a minute after I honked.

Every single one of them, in unison, started to run the opposite way. They were all running at full speed, and within 20 to 30 seconds the field was completely empty. I was petrified in fear. I knew that staying in my car is what would be the safest thing to do. But it's the worst feeling in the world when you feel like a sitting duck. My head was on a swivel. I was freaking out every way possible. I assumed it was a bear or something, but it could have been absolutely anything.

I was convinced at that point it was the devil himself. I didn't know what to do. I knew the tow truck was close by, but I had no idea where he was. I began to shake because of nervousness and just looked around to make sure nothing was by me and focusing on the field in front of me. I did this for what felt like an eternity. Sitting in complete silence and darkness in the middle of nowhere, I was waiting for something to jump out and attack me.

Fifteen of the longest minutes of my life go by, and I start to see lights break through the tree line on the road. As it gets closer, I see it is the tow truck guy. The lights on his truck felt like it was Jesus coming from heaven to rescue me. He gets up to me and I jump out of my car and immediately ask him if he has a gun on him. I told him very quickly what happened to me and that something is definitely out here nearby. He let me know that he had a shotgun in the truck and assured me that it was most likely a bear or a bobcat. He gave me the hole.

They are more scared of you than you are of them, crap. The tree was small enough for him to sort of bulldoze it out of the way with his truck, and then he attached my car to his and pulled me out of the spot I was stuck in. He was very nonchalant about what I had just experienced, but I was pretty badly shaken up from it. The whole time he was doing his thing, I still had my eyes glued on that field, waiting for something. He was completely done with everything in about 15 minutes,

and told me to follow his truck out to the main road again. I got in my car and was ready more than anything to get out of this park. We started to drive away from the spot I was in, and I still had my head on a swivel, completely shook up. As we were driving away, I looked in my rearview mirror. We were down the park road just a tiny bit, but I could still see the spot I was stuck in, partially lit up from the vehicle's lights and the moon. I watched in my rearview mirror, a man come out of the tree line behind where the car was,

and walk into the middle of the road to watch us drive away. My heart stopped beating. I lost my breath and my eye started to get full of tears because of how absolutely scared I was in this moment. I couldn't see any sort of details, like how he looked, or even necessarily what he was wearing. To be honest, I don't really care. The feeling that I felt driving away from that spot,

knowing he was right there the whole time watching me, watching me as I freaked out, looking around, watching me as I was completely alone for a long time, maybe even coming right up to my window and watched me as I slept. That's the feeling I can't necessarily put into words. All these years later, it still messes with me quite a bit. The entire time we were driving off, as long as I could see him, he didn't move. Just watched us from the road.

A million things went through my mind. I was scared there may have been multiple people up on the road waiting for us. I was trying to figure out if I should start beating on my horn like crazy to get the tow guy to stop or not. I decided that all I wanted to do was get out of there, more than anything. The second we finally got out of the park and was able to see the two-lane road again, I flew past the tow truck driver and did nothing below 70 miles per hour the entire way home. I flew through stop signs and red lights. I absolutely did not care.

The only thing on my mind was making it home. I got home, ran inside, very quickly acknowledging my parents and said sorry and thank you, and went to my room. I didn't get a single second of sleep the rest of the night. I was just searching for any sort of record of things happening in that area, escaped convicts, similar stories, etc. I came to the conclusion that the man was some sort of squatter or homeless. I read many things online of how common it is for homeless and secluded areas to build shelters in the wood. which does make sense to me entirely on why they would do that.

But obviously the unknown is the scariest part of all. What if he wasn't homeless? What if he was going to hurt me? What if? There's so many possibilities of what could have happened, but the outcome that did happen is what I am most grateful for. I never told my parents this story until many years after it happened, and I was already an adult and moved out.

It freaked them out too when I told them. I never went back to that park, ever. Even though I no longer live by there, I still have no desire at all to ever go back there. I don't even think I could in broad daylight with a ton of people around. I also made the decision to stop doing those late night cruises. I did a few after that time with people, but even then, I felt very uneasy and on edge. It was a Sunday, early in the morning. I live in the suburbs, but my parents own a farm that I enjoy going to, because I get to see my dog. Her name is Molly. She's a mutt, but she's not a tiny dog by any means. At that time, I felt very safe around her, and would often take her for walks in the forest that was nearby. The day started out like any other. Me and my dad got in the car, drove around for a while, and arrived at the farm. I immediately got out of the car and hugged Molly. My parents always got so angry when I hugged her, since I'd smell like her for the rest of the day. I put her leash on and I asked my dad if I could take her for a walk. He always thought that we would just go down the road and back, but I always found it

more interesting to take her back in the forest. I always felt a certain kind of peace and relaxation there that was unmatchable by anything else. So we took a turn and headed to the forest. Usually when we got there, I'd take her leash off so she could explore on her own. Most of the time I'd carve my name into the trees or look out for anything interesting. I was playing baseball with some rocks and a wooden leg, presumably from an old table, and then I heard it. Molly was barking at something. That wasn't unusual when we were out there in the forest. I thought it was a fox or some other animal, so I quickly grabbed the wooden leg as a weapon.

I knew that if it was a fox, I wouldn't attack it, but I had a sense of security while I was holding it. I called out to my dog, but she just kept barking. This was very strange for me, since she always came to me when I called her. I followed the sound of her barks and stumbled across a scene I'll never forget. There was a man, probably in his late 50s, carrying a large machete in one hand and holding moonshine in the other. This was the first time that I stumbled across someone in the woods. let alone someone carrying a big machete. He was completely ignoring Molly and hacking away at the ground for some reason. I didn't really know how to handle the situation. Even now, I have no idea

how I would handle it. Sir, are you okay? I asked in confusion. I don't think I understood the seriousness of the situation at the time. He turned around, revealing his face. He had some of the clearest blue eyes I had ever seen to this day. I could see them so well because they were open wide. Come here, boy, look what I've dug up. I was afraid that if I didn't listen to him, he would start chasing after me, and that was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. I got closer, but kept a good distance. I didn't see anything except an empty hole. He returned to hitting the ground with his machete, occasionally taking sips from the bottle. I used this window of time to get my dog and started to walk away slowly as to not notifying him that I was leaving. But then I took

one final glance at the man. His head was dug deep in the hole. I was intrigued, so I kept looking. I know how stupid of me. He finally got up from the ground. I was shocked when I saw him carrying a bone from his mouth. I have no idea what animal it belonged to, or even if it did belong to an animal. I had seen enough and started sprinting with my dog. As we ran, I heard him laughing, and then I saw something flying in the corner of my eye. It was that machete. I heard him yell.

This made me run even faster. I know the forest very well, so I wasn't afraid of getting lost. I ripped through branches and bushes until I got out of that forest, but I didn't stop sprinting until I arrived at the garage, where my father was testing out lights on our tractor. I didn't tell him a single thing, about the man, since I was afraid that he'd get angry and wouldn't allow me to walk Molly

anymore. Needless to say, I never went into that forest alone, ever again. I'd like to begin by describing myself, because I believe it's relevant to the story. I'm 25, male, and a bit above average height. I have been doing sports five to six times a week since I've graduated High School. My favorite hobbies are mountaineering, hiking, and bouldering. I've just recently purchased a new pair of high altitude mountaineering boots because it's near the end of summer season and they were on sale. The plan is to wear them in the Alps next summer on a few ascents. I live in a European capital, one that's surrounded by wonderful nature with many trails and opportunities for hiking. I decided to break in the boots last Saturday, more specifically because it would have been

my granddad's birthday, and he also loved hiking before he died. These boots are overkill for these woods, but I needed to try them. I selected a nice route that's about 25 kilometers and set off about 9 in the morning. It just rained the day before, so I expected a fair amount of mud and not so many people, as they are usually scared off by bad weather. Since the summer was excruciatingly hot, It was a nice change of temperature, especially between trees and such, where it's a few degrees cooler than in the city. In the not-so-distant past, my dog would have definitely joined me on this hike, but she's turning 14 this year, and she doesn't enjoy long-distance walks anymore. My girlfriend had something to do for work on short notice, so I knew from the moment I woke up, I would be doing this hike alone. The first half of the hike was perfect. The altitude difference, along with the trail, is minimal.

I barely broke a sweat and I misjudged how many people would be out due to the storm the day before. I met at most six or seven people during the first two to three hours, and most of them were cross-country runners. It's worth mentioning that I wasn't walking quickly. I stopped on many occasions to take pictures or study some animals' tracks. There are deer and wild boars in these woods, nothing more menacing. Not animals anyway, but I won't get ahead of myself. Between 12 and 1, the path ran into an actual road, one where cars can go. The road is asphalt, but deep in the forest and can only be used to reach certain landmarks that are there, so cars seldom go here.

My trail required me to take the road for a few hundred meters. As I was walking along the road, I heard a car approach from behind me. It went past me, not too quickly or too slowly. It was an older, green SUV, with a car approach from behind me. SUV with fresh registration. You can tell by the license plate, probably an import. Anyway, I thought nothing of it at the time. Then I heard it come back. It drove past me for a second time, now very slowly, and I could clearly see two men sitting in the front seats, wearing baseball caps and sunglasses. Both had stubble going on as well. I assumed they were gamekeepers,

even though those cars have a crest on the hood and both front doors. As I hike a fair amount, I know these things. I see them around quite a bit. They would also not be driving a car like this. They would have jeeps, which are more suitable for the forest. Still, I felt no discomfort, and again, I thought nothing of it. Then, my trail left the asphalt road and began snaking in the woods again. I walked ahead serenely, gazing at the woods.

the trees and whatnot. Then, I suddenly had a strange sensation that something, or someone, was behind me. An engine sound was becoming more and more clear as well. At this point, the trail was quite narrow, but if, for whatever reason, you'd want to drive a car on it, you could, just about. Now, when I turned around, the aforementioned SUV was basically in my face. It was an arm's length the way from me, and it stopped just as I did. I looked at the driver who was staring back, as I could only assume he was wearing sunglasses. I calmly ask him, what's wrong? Shall I let you go? In a polite tone as his window was rolled down. He didn't speak. He slowly started reversing and soon disappeared behind a curve. Now I was quite uneasy. I also noticed that he was alone in the car,

unlike earlier, I listened intently, standing still, since I wasn't sure what was going on. At this point, I was not scared, but there was this faint feeling of unease in the air, and bad thoughts began gathering in the back of my mind. I heard the car and the engine stopped behind the curve. I heard a door open and shut, but nothing from that point on. I turned around and began walking towards my destination at a much faster pace. than before. Now I was a bit scared. I didn't understand why he didn't answer, and why he just reversed and left without a word. I wasn't sure what to make of it, and I had no desire to ask him again, or to see him again for

that matter. I had just walked enough for these unpleasant thoughts to slowly be erased from my mind. As I had been drinking a lot of water, as I usually do, I decided to take a leak. I saw a perfect spot, a very narrow path off the trail that led quite clearly to a little hunting tower. I walked over to the tower, put my bag down by the ladder that led up it, and began taking a leak. I was also interested on checking Google Maps to see where I was, but since there was no signal, I decided to check my map. I also had a sip of water. I had been sitting there for a good few minutes before I headed back at the trail from where I deviated to take a leak. Right before I arrived back to the main trail, I thought to myself how extremely quiet it was. No wind, no noise of any kind,

absolutely nothing. This made me realize just a moment later how alone I was, except for the man who was standing maybe 50 meters away from me on the trail in the direction where I was headed. I only saw this as soon as I stepped back on the trail, since the small one to the tower was hidden by the trees, and you couldn't see the main trail as it was running perpendicular to the small one. I looked at him and I was instantly chilled to the very bone. He was dressed in tactical clothing with a white baseball hat on his head. The only reason he was standing still, I believe, was a moment of surprise that I had appeared from the place where he didn't expect me to appear from.

At this point I was fully and utterly alarmed. He was holding a rifle with a scope on it. Had this happened without the incident with the SUV, I wouldn't have probably walked along the trail, thinking he's a hunter. However, in the light of the strange encounter with the SUV, from which the second man was missing, something in me snapped instantly.

In hindsight, it's also illegal to hunt in these woods this time of year. I figured in a matter of two seconds that I was going to sprint through the woods until exhaustion, towards and pass the tower, as it seemed natural to do at the time. If there was no malicious intent on the man's behalf or the others, he'll just think I'm an idiot and forget about me in two minutes. If I'm right, it's the best call I will have ever made. And he began running towards me. Adrenaline blossoming within me, I began sprinting away. I sprinting away. I sprinted past the tower and deep into the bushes, not sparing my legs as I was wearing shorts and a thermal

jumper. I crashed through branches, small trees, and slipped on several occasions. I really did sprint until I was exhausted. It must have been several kilometers. I even crossed some smaller trails, but didn't even bother to look either way. My pulse was a billion the whole time. I began checking my phone for a signal, but nothing. I was already really angry at myself for not memorizing the license plate. After a while I began power walking, but still off trail, straight ahead, in a direction that I knew sooner or later would lead me out of the woods. When my phone got a signal, I told the story to several people frantically, but no one took me seriously. They said I was overreacting and whatnot. You must have misunderstood the situation.

Well, I'll let you decide for yourself if I did or not. Finally, I reached a trail, that led directly to a cute little town that borders this rather large forest. It felt like an eternity, but I walked the last kilometer to the main square, took off my jumper and put it in my bag. At least I looked a little different from far away. I waited for a bus that took me back to the station near my car, rather anxiously. After the bus ride, during which I studied each car on the road. I walked back to my car and drove home.

My dog welcomed me like I was coming back from a two-year deployment. Dogs are just amazing. She must have felt something shook me up. I spent the afternoon contemplating my life in the bathtub. The boots destroyed my feet, but they aren't meant to be sprinted in for long periods of time. I called the Forests Gamekeeper's office. I inquired about whether or not they have such cars in the service as the one I came across.

They do not. Their gameskeepers don't actually work in Paris. Like 99% of the time, they are alone. I told them my story, and they took me a lot more seriously than my friends, but they assured me that the police wouldn't. No one could have been legally hunting in that area during the summer either. I've been reading some local news, but nothing extraordinary has been reported yet. I really hope nothing will be reported either.

My husband and I are amateur mushroom hunters. Three seasons out of the year, we spend our week in the forest, along nature trails and rivers looking for edible and interesting wild mushrooms to harvest. Springtime brings the most exciting hunt, which is for the highly coveted morels. We know of a special stretch of shoreline along the river that has a few dozen morels each year. It's difficult to get to as it's off the proper path, and you have to do quite a bit of ducking and climbing and maneuvering to get through. One day, two years ago, we were doing just that. doing just that, making our way slowly and searching carefully for mushrooms hiding in plain sight.

We were so preoccupied with our task that we don't know how long we were being watched or followed. But at one point we saw a man up ahead of us, looking at us and not saying anything or moving, almost like he's waiting to be noticed. My husband saw him first and turned to shoot me a look, because we never encountered anyone in that spot before. It was besides a small and fairly busy park, but people didn't stray away from the paved walk paths much. There was a weird energy about that man that can best be described as vaguely menacing. We were near the end of where we wanted to look anyway, so we turned around and started working our way back. When we looked behind us a few moments later, the man was gone.

We just wrote it off as some weirdo, maybe a homeless guy whose territory we wandered into. We continued looking over the spots we had already covered in case we missed any morels, with me in front and my husband right behind me, looking back every few paces as we were feeling more paranoid as we went. All of the sudden, I look up from the ground, and the man is blocking our path up ahead, maybe 30 feet. He had to have left the riverbank and crept alongside us on the path, getting ahead of us in order to cut us off at the pass like that.

I whip around with huge eyes at my husband, who looks over my shoulder, sees him, and starts moving up the hill on our right, grabbing my hand to pull me with him. Adrenaline shot us out of the thick brush and into the paved path. In the open park moments later, without speaking, we broke into a sprint towards the direction of our car, several blocks away. When we were far enough away from the riverbank to risk a backward glance, we saw the man emerge from the brush. He just stood there, watching us leave, motionless. We speculated the entire ride home what he wanted from us, knowing it was nothing innocent. To this day, it still bothers me,

and I wonder what would have happened if we had been spread apart further while we hunted, or if either of us had been alone. I'm a 21-year-old guy. This happened to me back when I was in high school, about five years ago. It was my senior year, class was winding down and teachers were finding less to talk about as we were excited to get out of there. This one teacher I had was super quirky, kind of weird but cool to me, as he always had interesting

experiences to share. He and the group of my friends in the class became acquainted, among the other students who wouldn't listen to him when he attempted to speak about his past shenanigans. One day, he brought up this oasis, as he called it. A place in the woods he would visit when he was It was a clearing deep within the trees, complete with dunes in a small beach, not too far from where we were going to school. We, of course, didn't believe him, so he showed us on Google Maps. Our naive selves thought that after school we could attempt to reach this place, entering from a backyard closest to the clearing.

We should have known that 40-something years later, the layout of the place would have changed. Come the end of the day, I gather up my closest friends. We all agree on the plan using Google Maps as our GPS. After convincing one of our moms to drop us off with a lie of hanging out at a friend's place, we made our way to the edge of the forest. I wish we called it quits then. We started out all right, I guess, making our way closer by climbing through hordes of bushes and weeds. It was probably the most run-down, gross, dumped on parts of the forest with broken

car parts and trash everywhere. Eventually, as we get closer to this supposed clearing, we hear a dog viciously barking in the distance. My alarms went off. What was a dog doing in the middle of the woods? It was fairly residential, so no hunting, but also no trails or any reason for it to be out there. My friends were a mix of angry at me for suggesting this and extremely anxious about how we were going to get through it. At this point, we just wanted to do. make it to the sandy beach part of the woods, which seemed close by judging our distance on the maps. The closer we got, the louder the barking became. At this point, we weren't saying much to each other, as I led. We were literally screwed with nowhere to go. The barking

seemed like it was coming from everywhere. I could see a dirt clearing ahead, so I just told everyone to make a break for it. At least in the open we could see what was coming at us. This was not the clearing we were hoping for, and one I could not find on the map when I tried looking for it later. Often the distance was a medium-sized makeshift building. It appeared to be made out of plywood, painted gray and black. Above the door hung a giant animal skull with horns. I felt a pit in my stomach because I immediately knew this was the source of the barking, being

as it was at its loudest. After managing to snap a couple pictures, I stood there frozen. unsure of what to do next. I came back to my senses when I hear a deep, angry voice shout, Hey, what are you doing? From somewhere close by the building. I'd officially had enough of the situation. I'd gotten all my friends in this mess,

so I felt responsible for their safety. I told everyone we're just gonna have to bite the bullet and run blind through the woods. It could have been my mind playing tricks, but I swear I felt like the dog was chasing us, almost like somebody let it loose. After kicking through the dense wilderness and trees, we were so scraped up and bloody by the time we got far enough away that we felt safe. Huddled together and practically crying.

I called my mother and told her the mess that we were in. I gave her the street closest to the side of the woods we were on, and she gladly came and picked us up. She said that when she saw us on the side of the road, it looked like we had been through hell and back. After that day, we barely spoke about it. We didn't even tell the teacher who started. the whole thing, in fear of somehow getting him in trouble. Creeper with the skull hut. Let's not meet. For starters, we both work at a hospital and work until 1 a.m. This all happened about two weeks ago. We worked a 12-hour shift due to our departments being slightly understaffed

for the night. We're leaving the hospital around 4 in the morning. We usually take the highway, but the on-ramp was closed due to an accident. So, we didn't do. decided to just take the normal roads home. It was going well for the first 30 minutes until we get to the part of the trip where the once touching residential houses became nothing but woods. The speed limit was 25 because it was still residential. There was probably one house every two miles. My girlfriend and I were talking about new music and having a nice time when I got this awful feeling I'm being watched. I looked into the back seat feeling like I would 100% see a person sitting back there. I start observing the tree line to my right and see nothing.

Then it happens. We slam into a deer running on the left side of the road from the woods. My girlfriend screams and I start looking around to see what just happened. I see the back legs of a deer stumble away before getting distracted by my girlfriend, shaking me, asking me what just happened. I told her, you just hit a deer and was forced out, to see the damage on her car because she was too afraid to leave. I open the door and go into the front of the car to look at the grill. I can't see anything due to her headlights still being on. I flick my wrist to signal her to shut off the headlights.

I turn my phone light on and turn my head to where the deer ran off to. My girlfriend turns off the headlights and perfectly where I was looking I see a set of glowing eyes in the tree line. standing at the height a deer's eyes would be. I look away to see if there's any damage. We were only going 25, so it was just a small piece of the grill, was broken off. I give her the thumbs up and start walking back to the passenger door. I grab the handle and decide to give the deer one last look and see the same set of glowing eyes, but now standing about six feet. My heart sinks deep and I get into the car.

I tell my girlfriend there was minimal damage and to just drive. She kept asking questions and I wasn't ready to tell my girlfriend who gets extremely scared very easily that I saw the deer we hit, standing and watching us. She asks how the deer was

and I said, You were going slow and lightly tapped it. I saw it walk off and it was fine. I also worked in that there wasn't any blood on the ground or on the car. She finally takes off and I feel 100% safer. Something tells me to look back using the side mirror. I glance into the mirror and slide down into my seat so I could see the deer. It was no longer standing in the tree line, but in the middle of the road. I see it in her back lights and I could

see that it's not a deer. In the red glow, I saw a very tall man in very little or worn clothing. My heart must have skipped a beat. It was just staring with its piercing yellow eyes, looking at me. I didn't say a word to my girlfriend the whole way home, and haven't since. We drove in silence for about 30 minutes or so until we got home. Then she starts saying how lucky we were. I was asking her why she said that, thinking she would know what I just saw. She says it could have rolled up on the hood and into the windshield. I breathe a sigh of relief. We get get out and start looking at the car. The grill had more damage than I remember seeing, but it wasn't too bad. I apparently miss seeing a thick branch in the grill. My girlfriend takes it out and

throws it on the ground like it's nothing, but I'm thinking to myself, why would a deer have a stick on them? Or how would they, is the better question. We go inside and start making dinner. The image of that thing's eyes are burned into my every thought. I try to stay focused, but can't. I excuse myself to the restroom and take out my phone. I start looking up its features and compared what happened to me to other people's stories. I had a hunch it was a skinwalker, but being an avid scary story reader, I never assumed they're true until that night. I let it go, and thankfully my girlfriend and I were left unharmed and got home safely. I'm still thinking about it today and feel so unsettled. First, some backstory. I live in a part of New Jersey,

most people don't even know, exist. It's in the northwestern corner of the state, right in the Appalachian mountains. I live in an extremely secluded area, and my town is surprisingly large. Not only does the Appalachian Trail run straight through town, but there's a large park that has been built over Native American burial ground. This is legitimate. a fact, with the landmarked, with a sign explaining the grounds and events that occurred there. This makes me believe that a far larger part of the town is on burial grounds of some sort. Not to mention, the Appalachian Trail has been known to be fairly creepy, and possibly even carry some paranormal energy, so that could be a factor in this story as well.

So, this event happened my freshman year of high school, so four years ago. My older brother was a senior, and both of us were in marching band. Towns are very spread out in this area, so we would often get home from football games and competitions very late. On this night, it was one of those times where we got back super late. I followed my brother around. He was saying goodbye to everyone, including one of the drum majors, who also was my big buddy. So, I knew her a decent amount. Naturally, the drum major's always stayed super late just because they have a lot of responsibilities to cover before they can leave.

So when we said goodbye to her, she was still donned in full drum major uniform, cape and all. It wasn't anything weird to see, so we set our goodbyes and my brother and I left. My brother drove us through the secluded expanse of the town, and I had noticed that it seemed like absolutely no one was out on the roads. I figured it was just late, and once again it wasn't something that I really made note of. My brother and I, both tuckered out from the long day, drove in silence, and I watched as the forest and farms passed by. There is a very popular portion of the trail known as the stairway to heaven. Nearby the entrance of the trail, there's a big red barn, and a giant empty lot used for

parking when they have barn antique sales. As we began to get closer, we could see a bright flashing headlights coming from the lot. My brother slowed down a bit, and when we passed it by, I saw something that still chills me to this day. In the lot was a car. It had the lights within it on, and the hood was open. Getting out of the jeep-like car, and standing beside it was no other than my drum major dawned in her full uniform, cape and all. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. No one would ever leave the high school in their uniform, and she looked visually in distress.

It was definitely my drum major. I could see her blonde hair coming out from her hat, and it was the same body shape and all. I thought I was just tired, and I was seeing things, but after we passed by, my brother finally spoke up. Was that Kate? Yeah, that was definitely her. We were silent for a moment.

moment. Should we turn around to see if she's okay? No. We drove back the rest of the way home, the air now tense. When we got home, we tried to assess the scene. My brother knew her better than I did, and I knew that wasn't her car, nor did she live anywhere near where we lived. Again, the town is very spread apart, and she lived on the other side of town. She was in her full uniform. It was completely clear it was the drum major uniform, and it was the spitting image of her, but she looked like she was legitimately in distress. No one else was around on the road, seemingly, as if this was something we were meant to see. She was the last person we had said goodbye to, and now here she was, looking as if she was in trouble.

Plus, my brother is not the person with an interest in the supernatural. He honestly just tries to avoid the topic of it. I, on the other hand, am very into the paranormal and have had a pretty big share of experiences. The females in my family tend to be very sensitive to weird paranormal things, but nothing ever like this. I tried to look up what it could possibly be. It seemed like it was an entity that was using some sort of mirage of something we had both seen, and making it look as if the individual was in some pretty deep distress, as if it was luring us in. The fact that my brother spoke up first

confirmed that he had seen the exact same thing also was jarring, especially with him being less interested and sensitive to this kind of thing. From what I've been researching, it's possible that it was a skinwalker or something. It was near the trails and the burial grounds and seemed like it fits well with these Native American folklore creatures. I don't know if this is important to add,

but I recently found out that a great-grandfather was married a Native American female, so I do have some Native American in me, but it's not a huge percentage. I don't want to be that white person who has like 2% of Native American in the gene pool, and equating it to being super in tune with that side and proclaiming that I'm Native American. But I decided I'd mention this just in case it maybe lends a hand in figuring out what this thing may have been. If anyone has any clue to what my brother and I have encountered, I would really appreciate some feedback, I'm still chilled by this experience. Whenever I try to talk about it with my friends,

it scares them too much for me to even fully explain what happened. What's most unnerving is the fact that it was deliberately showing us an image of a friend in distress to lure us in. The thing is, I'm so lucky I had my brother with me, because I was considering turning back, and I'm still haunted by the thought of what could have happened if we had. I live in an area of Michigan that was inhabited by the Odawa for centuries. I live in a really secluded area, and even within my property backs up to a nature preserve. I'm the last house on my street, and the next closest is a solid three-fourths of a mile away.

I'm a smoker and an insomniac, so I end up outside smoking at like three in the morning pretty often. Note, I'm not a writer, and I suck at creating suspense. So I'll try to just tell it like it happened. I think I should also mention that I'm a staunch atheist, and generally don't believe in any gods, demons, spirits, fairies, or any of that other stuff. So some random night, I'm out smoking. This is maybe a decade ago.

It's after midnight, maybe before 2 a.m. I'm on my deck, and I hear a woman scream from the woods. Now, I know many of you are thinking, it was either a coyote mating call, or maybe a bobcat, or maybe some smaller animal getting killed, all of which do sound like a woman screaming, but I've heard all of those plenty of times, and have learned how they sound. And besides, this one was screaming a combination of help, and the most guttural desperate sounds I have ever heard. It was a woman.

My body ran cold. I had never experienced this before. I'd read it in books and heard it described when people freeze up in. movies. But I'm telling you, I felt the cold go from my heart and spread throughout my torso and limbs. Some long-asleep lizard part of my brain had just woken up. I felt like I was prey, and I'm a six-foot, 200-pound guy who long ago was a college linebacker, so I don't scare easily. I was frozen for what seemed like an hour, as this woman's screams persisted, and then were cut off abruptly. But it was probably 20 to 30.

seconds tops. At this point, I kind of regain my senses and decide a couple of things. Firstly, I'm going to go investigate because I need to know what happened, no matter how afraid I am. And at the time, I figured somebody just got murdered. Secondly, I need a weapon. I've got an old 30-40 crag I inherited from my dad, who had got it from his dad, who had carried it in World War I. I don't use this gun for hunting because it leaves too much damage, but it seemed to be appropriate for this. So I loaded it with four rounds, chambered the first one, grabbed the mag and went out the door. There's a hiking trail that runs by my house and comes to a tee about a half a mile off, and led in the direction of where I'd heard the woman, so it seemed to be the best bet.

I set off down that trail going quickly, but as quietly as possible. In a couple minutes, I'm to the tea. The screams came from north of here. I turned left, shine the light, and there, maybe 150 yards down the trail, is the biggest buck I had ever seen, or so I thought. I'm actually pretty scared now,

because a hunter will tell you, the most realistically dangerous thing in those woods is a buck in the rut. And I decided to slowly move up just to see if I can get close and then spook it away. I've probably closed the gap to about 30 yards when this buck stands up on its hind legs,

looks me right in the face, and says, Hey. I know it's a bit anticlimactic, but that's what the thing said. It absolutely was not a buck snort, and it was a clearly male and human voice that said, Hey.

What I have since determined to be a skinwalker, I had no idea at the time. then slowly takes a few steps toward me. I level the 30-40 at it and held my ground, not saying a word. It closes the gap another few steps, and I let out the loudest scream I could muster. Rather than run, it breaks into a sprint towards me,

and bam, I fire off a round. I'm working the bolt, trying to get the next one chambered, when the thing takes a hard left and loops into the forest. Now, on all fours, running on all fours, running on, like a white-tailed deer. I would have liked to search for the woman, but frankly, I was scared out of my wits. I pretty much walked backwards the mile to my house, all of the while shining my flashlight around in panic, trying to spot the thing. I made it back to my house, locked all the doors and windows. Then I looked at the phone. Should I call the cops? Well, this was 10 years

ago, and I have a grow-op, so I didn't. And besides, I figured if they did find the woman's body, they'd probably pin it on me. I didn't sleep at all. I just sat at the dinner table with the 30-40 and a bottle of Shmirnov in front of me. And as soon as it was in the morning, I went out to search that area. No signs of the woman, no signs of distress, no blood, no tracks, except for my own from the night before. I checked the local paper for weeks and the regional affiliate and never heard anything about a missing woman. The worst part, though, is that on half a dozen occasions since, I've been out smoking late at night, and I'll get that cold feeling, and then I'll hear from a ways into the woods. Hey. I'm currently hiding in my closet, shaking in fear. I'm typing this out

on my phone. During April of 2018, I adopted a five-month-old puppy from the pound. I was lucky enough to get her out of that hellhole and into my loving home. She was a border collie mix, and her name was Nellie. I don't know what happened to her, but what I have now is not my dog. She was a timid little pup when I first brought her home. I remember she was inside for at least five minutes before she peed on the carpet. I could only laugh and kiss her because I was so happy. She slept in my bed that night,

and for many more nights to come. She only weighed about 10 or 11 pounds when I first picked her up. The months that followed were amazing. For the first time since I graduated high school, I was over the moon. Every day when I got home from work, she would rush to greet me

with her tongue dangling from her mouth, her tail wagging wildly. She absolutely loved to grab the newspaper from the mailbox with me. She was also an awesome chick magnet, but that's besides the point. She loved my neighbor, a nice man named Paul, whose wife recently passed away from breast cancer. He was an older gentleman, well into his 50s, but never looked a day over 40. He liked to throw a barbecue for a few neighbors we had in our little rural community. He always made an effort, so we all return to the same.

the favor with bringing food. Things began to change in December of 2018, when in the early hours of the morning on the 5th, Nellie woke me up. I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. She stood about a meter from the door, pointing right at it. I could hear a low growl emanating from her. Curious, I got out of bed and opened the door. To her surprise, there was nothing there. I thought that would have been the end of it. A few more days passed, and on the ninth, it happened again, early hours of the morning and pointing at the door.

This continued for the next week. I believe this is when Nellie disappeared. At 2 a.m., on the 21st, Nellie woke up and wanted to go outside. She would do this once every few weeks, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. She would wake me up by licking my face, and then sulk and lay down in front of the door, if I wouldn't get up.

Behind my backyard is a forest that extends from miles. Sometimes Nellie likes to hunt down rabbits and possums when we would go for a walk through the woods. When I let her out that night, she walked about five meters before the tree line. I watched her and she started her way back to the house, that is, when things didn't go exactly as planned. She must have heard something

because she whipped around and pointed at the trees and growled. I thought it might have been a round, rabbit, but thinking back on it now, it was probably something much worse. She barked and then made a bee line for the trees. She disappeared into the thickness before I heard more barking, then nothing. Absolute silence. I was about to grab a flashlight and put on my red bands, but then the trees started rustling. There was no wind. It was distressing, to say the least. Then they stopped. I called. out her name and waited. About a half a minute later, she wandered out of the trees and back

inside. I thought nothing of it and promptly went back to sleep. I should have thought about it. As the months continued, things got weird. She stopped wanting to go on walks. She cut back on her food and began to get skinnier. I decided to change up her diet from dog biscuits to meat. She liked that. She really liked. that. Sometimes she would run off into the woods and go hunting for rabbits or anything she could get her paws on. I also noticed she began to get bigger, not fat bigger, because as she got bigger, it looked like she got skinnier, then she stopped playing with her toys. That weirded me out the most because she loved her squeaky duck toy

I got for her the day she came home. Now it lay gathering dust in the corner of my room, but she began to show a liking to the barbecue get-together Paul would throw a little too much. Honestly, that should have been a warning sign. That day was the 26th of February, 2019. In the following weeks, people unfortunately died. It was small to begin with. That makes it sound better than it was. Old people died first.

As sad as it sounded, we all thought it was because of old age. Then we got the details, horrific details. They were murders. We were absolutely scared then. Paul and I started communicating a lot more than we used to, a text every hour or so just to check in, or maybe a phone call or two. He told me I should keep the key from my gun safe in the lock,

in case of an emergency. I listened. I listened because I trusted him. I listened because he was one of my only friends. That brings us to tonight, the 24th of March, I awoke to the sound of gunfire. I rushed over to my curtains and yank them open. Paul's house was on fire. I immediately rushed to put on some thick clothes and grabbed a flashlight and my phone

ready to dial 911 for a fire truck. At the time, I didn't even notice my bedroom door was open. When I clearly remember closing it before I went to bed that night, nor did I notice Nellie was missing. I yanked open my back door and I froze. It was illuminated by the bright fire of Paul's house. It stood on its hind legs, tall and lanky, completely black with white highlights over its body. Its eyes were almost glowing yellow. Its claws were massive, and sadly one set was clearly protruding through Paul's chest. I was, I actually don't know. felt like so long ago, even though it was only an hour, I couldn't feel a thing. I couldn't even

feel the flashlight slip through my fingers and land heavily on the concrete ground of my back patio. I instantly realized my mistake and saw it look at me. It looked at me deep in the eye and I saw her. My sweet girl, my Nelly, or more rather, what was pretending to be Nellie. It dropped Paul to the ground and terrifyingly reared its head up in the air and howled deeply. It sounded like a mix between the sound of absolute pain and what I could only describe as Lupin's howl from the prisoner of Ascabin. That was the only motivation I needed to run. I hauled it into my bedroom and dived into my closet and shut the door. I covered myself in dirty clothes and stayed still. It felt like I laid there for a few million years. It walked, or skulked more rather.

into my room. I heard its claws clatter across the hard floor before stopping, but I heard it howl once again before it sounded like it tore my bed to bits. I heard glass smash and hard objects collide with the wall. Then nothing. Complete silence once again, before I heard it soak off and leave the house, probably to finish eating my friend. Now it's 7 a.m. I hear sirens outside, but I'm too afraid to leave, lest that thing is waiting for me on the other side of the door. The inky thing I could do for the last few hours

was type this out and do research. But it didn't make sense. I googled everything I remembered about the thing. I got a result that I'm fairly certain is what it is. It didn't make sense. I read pages upon pages of this thing, looked at artwork, folklore, everything. The research says it was a skinwalker.

I'm not sure what to do, but I'm terrified. This was three years ago, and I started college down in the country. I was 18, female, and on Tinder. I never actually met anyone off it, but I would swipe through guys just to be nosy and see who was on it. I was swiping right on some, and about an hour after, got a message from a guy, who, according to his account, was about 20 kilometers away. We made some small talk.

It was awkward and I stopped replying. A day later, I got a friend request of him on Facebook. Mind you, I have a common enough name so it would have taken him ages for him to find me. We have no mutual friends and my Tinder photos is not on my Facebook page. The only thing that I had on it was the university I was attending, so maybe that's how he found me, but I don't know. I then quickly got a follow request on Instagram, and he somehow found my Snapchat user.

I don't have it on any of my social media, and it's a variation of my full name with extra added in vowels and an underscore. I was freaking out at this point. I messaged him asking how he found out my full name, and he just replied with, I think we have a connection. I really want to get to know you better. I unmatched him, deleted my Tinder, and blocked all of the accounts he tried to add me on. After that, it was quiet for a few months.

I was staying in digs and was knuckling down as I had a lot of assignments from the get-go. This was towards the end of November. I had no assignments due for two weeks, so I decided to go out with some friends. One of my friends stayed in the student accommodation, and the other was commuting, so she was staying with the other friend. I decided to walk back to my digs, as my landlady would probably freak out if I wasn't home that morning, and I really wish I got a taxi instead. My walk back was about 15 minutes from the local nightclub we were at.

It was about 3 a.m. at this point. I was at the front door of the house, opening it up. The door was annoying, as it had two different locks, and I had to pull the handle towards myself to open it up. It's also tough when you're tipsy and trying not to wake up the family you're staying with. Anyway, I finally unlocked the door. A dark car pulls into the housing estate I'm staying in. It's quite big and has a big green area,

in the middle for children or people to play in with their dogs. The car comes toward me, so I quickly get inside and lock the door. The car pulls into the driveway of the house I'm staying in and just sits there with the headlights on. I'm there shaking and too afraid to move up from below the door as there's frosted glass about halfway up. As I get the courage to go upstairs to look out my bedroom window to see who it is, the car pulls out of the driveway and speeds away.

A few days later, I get a new friend request of the creepy Tinder guy on a new Facebook profile, as there was no photos on this account, just the same name. Blocked. It was enough that it caused me to transfer universities the following year. Thankfully, I haven't heard anything since. I don't know if it was just bad timing, or if it was that creep on Tinder that sat in the driveway, but it was terrifying. If you take anything from this, be careful who you let in on social media or dating apps. and what information you give up.

You never know what someone's intention is. Stay safe. My wife and I are expecting our first child in a few months. Nothing can honestly prepare you for parenthood. You can read books, get advice from others, or ask God to make things easy for you. But nothing really works. It's just a try this kind of scenario,

and it's frightening, doubly so if you've never been able to keep a plant alive. But you do your best. The one thing that we had to do, outside of the thousand other things that we had to do in preparation for our son's arrival, was to set up the baby monitor. Our bedroom was across the house from the nursery, and even though our little bundle of joy would sleep in our room for the first five months or so, I wanted to hook up the camera in anticipation.

I set up the camera over his empty crib and put the monitor on my side of the bed. The picture and sound on this little camera was surprisingly great. The night vision on it was solid. You could make out everything in the room, all of the decorations, his toys on the shelf, and the massive collection of stuffed animals amassed by his mother. The giant stuffed bear kept propped up in the corner was only slightly terrifying in night vision.

The microphone was also really sensitive. When we first got it, I turned the volume all the way up. But then one night, my dog walked into the baby's room and barked at something, and it was so loud it bolted me up from, a dead sleep. After that, two things happened every night. The baby's door stayed closed, and the volume went from 10 to 4 on the monitor. My wife was about six months pregnant. She wanted to go visit her parents back east for a long weekend before she became too pregnant

to fly. We were all set to go, and I suddenly came down with the worst flu of my life. I mean, it was coming out every end, and I keep flipping between burning up and freezing. Feeling bad for me, I got to miss the trip. To be fair, had I went, I think I would have Orgon Trail-style died in the cross-country trek. I can see my tombstone now. After the Uber took my wife and our little dog to the airport, I was home alone for the first time in three years. A bachelor, all over again. Only this time, I wasn't drinking Natty Ice and swiping through Tinder, but was drinking NyQuil and swiping through Netflix. I finally settled on a little bit of some run-of-the-mill horror movie and promptly fell asleep on the couch. Hours later, I was

suddenly jolted from my sleep. In my dream, I heard someone call out my name, and my brain just hit the emergency break and woke myself up. Half asleep, I look around for someone else in the room, but I was still alone. Because I have a paranoid streak in me, I shuffled to each room to make sure I was the only person in the house. All of the doors were still closed, satisfying that no other soul was in the house with me, I shut off the TV and lights and trudged off to my room. Within minutes of hitting the mattress,

I was back asleep. The rest of the night passed, without incident. I felt better the next morning, groggy with the medicine-aided sleep, but I was pushing through the cold. I made my way back to the couch, but before I sat down, I noticed that the door to my son's room was open.

I didn't remember it being open last night. Granted, I had mainline some NyQuil, but I know I closed it. I walked over and peeked inside. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Same setup as when I last seen it. I just chalked it up to user error. I must not have closed it all the way last time, and went on with my day. Since I had felt better, I thought I probably should run to the store and do a quick grocery shop.

We were running out of pretty much everything, and every meal was like a rejected challenge on Chopped. I left and didn't give anything a second thought. I came home hours later and was greeted to an open door to my kid's room. I knew I closed it before I left. I went over and swung the door back and forth to check to see if it worked. But I think it was more peace of mind because even if it was broken, what am I even going to do? It was kind of like the guy who doesn't know anything about cars,

has to be the first due to look under the hood, and then shrugged because it might as well be a thousand-piece puzzle. Either way, that confused feeling was starting to dominate all of my thoughts. I tried to forget about it and go on with my day, but as soon as the sun set, I felt that feeling creeping up my spine. Without thinking about it, I kept checking the door throughout the day. It stayed closed. I was making myself crazy for no reason. Instead of really leaning into the Bachelor lifestyle and falling asleep on the couch again,

I decided to watch TV in my bedroom. Just as I was about to make my trip to the land of Nod when I heard a crackle from the baby monitor, before I could put my glasses on to get a clearer look at the screen, I very clearly heard someone say my name. My blood froze. What was that? I knew I actually heard it this time. It wasn't a dream. I took a deep breath and finally looked at the screen.

There wasn't anyone or anything in the room, but I did notice something was off. The giant stuffed bear in the corner was missing. That's when I heard. Faintly, a music box rendition of Ring Around the Rosie Start playing from somewhere inside my son's room. I'd normally be fine with this, but there was one small problem with all of this. My son doesn't own a music box.

I stood up and looked around my room for something I could use as a weapon. I didn't know what laid beyond my door, but I did know I wasn't going to confront it with just my fists. I finally settled on a closet rod I had bought but yet to install in our room. Logically, I knew the damage I could inflict was minimal, unless I was going to be dealing with a monster made out of hangers, but it was peace of mind. I opened the door and walked out.

I crossed my dark house as quietly as I could. My eyes adjusted to the dark. I noticed the door to my son's room was open again. Whatever was in there was now out here with me, or worse yet, wanted me to think they were out here. When I was just outside the hallway of my son's room, I could hear the music box playing. It was slowing down.

Each note was a distorted metallic ping. I swallowed hard and reached over for the hallway light switch. I counted to three, and then darted my hand out and flipped on the light switch. The music box stopped, but I heard the running of footsteps in the room. I pushed open the door and flipped on the light as the closet door slammed shut. someone was in the room. I could feel myself get lightheaded. I never really assumed that I would find anything, but now the only thing that separated me from whatever horrible imagination could conjure up was a thin, wooden sliding door. I said a quick prayer and then ripped open the

slider. There was nothing there except a few hangers. I don't know why, but I laughed when I saw those hangers. I was holding a closet rod, the perfect defense against my foe, baby hangers. I poked my head in the closet and didn't see anyone. I checked every corner of the room and didn't see anything. The windows were locked. Everything seemed to be in place except the giant stuffed bear was missing. It would have been easy to spot in the kid's bedroom, and it was nowhere to be seen. I closed my son's room and went on a bear hunt in the rest of the house.

I checked every square inch of the house and didn't see anything. It was like it vanished into thin air. I contemplated texting my wife. and telling her, but I didn't want to freak her out. I was doing enough freaking out for the two of us. I went back to my bedroom and crashed onto my bed. I wanted to sleep, but I could feel the excitement pulsing through my body. What was going on? Was I losing it? Was the fear of becoming a dad warping my brain? I didn't have a lot of time to think about it though, because, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure move on the baby monitor. I grabbed it and looked close,

but the figure wasn't in frame anymore. I opened the camera controls and started moving the camera to the left. It slowly shifted over and my palms started to sweat. I didn't know if I wanted to see someone or not. The camera stopped panning and there wasn't anything in frame, just empty space where the bear used to be. Then my door squeaked open. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

The door swung open and hit the wall and I heard footsteps running away from the room back across the house. I glanced at the baby monitor and saw a figure blur past the camera in my son's room and head out of frame. I hopped off my bed and ran into the room, fueled more by curiosity than cowed fear. The door was open again. I ran in and stopped immediately. The closet door was open and I noticed the lid to the crawl space inside was popped open. Someone was under the house. Why didn't I think to look there before? Oh right, because how would someone get under my house from the outside without me noticing. The hatch outside was screwed shut and we

had all of the openings animal-proofed a few months ago. I scanned the room to make sure someone wasn't hiding in the curtains or a pile of stuffed animals. There was nothing. They had to be under the house. I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. I wedged a kitchen chair under the handle to keep whoever inside. I wanted to go outside and investigate. If someone crawled under my house, I wanted to trap them in and call the police. The night air was cold and my skin instantly goose-bumped. At least I told myself it was because of the cold. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness and I began to walk around the foundation looking for any entry point. If my neighbors had looked out their window,

they would have thought I was crazy. Here I was, a grown man dressed in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, holding a closet rod and scanning the sides of his house with a cell phone flashlight. Even I thought I was crazy. I started at the furthest point from my son's room and walked clockwise. Every time I passed an opening to the crawl space, I expected to see eyes staring back at me, but there wasn't anything. As I rounded the house, I started thinking that maybe I was overreacting. But then, I saw footprints in the dirt leading around the corner of the house. I grew up in the gripped my closet rot hard and turned the corner. The footprints were small and left faint impressions, but they were there. I shined my beam in front of me and followed them as they made their way

along the side of my house. I came to a stop at the opening of my outdoor crawl space hatch. The footprints turned to under the house, but the hatch was still screwed shut. It had never been removed. I had to look to see what was going on under the house. There are times when I'm just staring to doze off, and my brain flashes back to this moment. It never fails to pull me back from the brink of sleep. It's like someone through a metaphorical bucket of cold water on my face. My heart races. I become restless, and I always check the baby monitor. I slowly kneeled down to get a better view, the beam of light from my camera shown under the house, but only in a narrow column. Off in the distance, I could see the light reflecting off of something. I couldn't make it

out, but it was there. I moved my face closer to the mesh wire hatch opening and screwed up my face in confusion. What was shining under my house? My nose touched the wire and I readjusted my beam of light to get a better look. It looked like there were two things shining now. That's when my phone died. The light disappeared, then faintly, I heard the music box start playing, ring around the Rosie. Only it wasn't coming from under the house. It was coming from my bedroom. Suddenly, from my left side, a face appeared next to mine on the other side of the mesh. Before my brain could react, the figure whispered, we all fall down. I didn't think I could still run that fast or that far. I didn't have a plan. I just needed to get away from my house as fast as I could.

Again, if my neighbors saw me, they'd assume I was on meth. I stayed at a little. I stayed at away pretty much the rest of the night. The closest I got was my car, which was parked on the street. As soon as the sun came up, I dared to venture into the house. It was still, almost foreign. I walked towards my son's room, still clutching the rod. The door was, not surprisingly, opened. I made my way into the room and looked over at the closet. The crawl space lid was back on. Everything else in the room looked normal, except one thing. All of the stuffed animals were gone. I looked all over, but never found them.

It's like they just vanished. I even went back outside to the crawl space hatch and looked in, didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I felt my blood pressure come back down to earth. Whatever happened seemed to be over. I went back into my room, with every intention of sleeping for a thousand hours. My body and brain were burnt out from the adrenaline.

I opened the door and frowned. On my bed was a small, open music box. Ring around the rosy, slowly started playing. I grabbed my wallet and went to a hotel. My wife came back the next day and asked if I was feeling better because I looked worse than before. Tired was the word she used, but that's because she's unfailingly polite. I said I was okay but seemed to still be fighting something. When she got home, she went into our son's room and she went into our son's room and

instantly noticed all of the stuffed animals missing. She asked, what happened to them? I hesitated and told her what happened to me the night before. She laughed at first, but then stopped as I showed her the music box. We tore the place apart looking for those stuffed animals. I mean we went everywhere. I was in the attic, in the crawl space, all of the rooms, the closets, the nooks, the crannies. We didn't find one hair of any of those stuffed animals. They were just gone. That day we called over a priest to bless the house. He said that things were fine, but how would he know? It was just a peace of mind thing, and it mostly worked.

In the days that followed, nothing too strange happened. I swore I heard footsteps on the camera and had some buzzy feelings like I was being watched, but nothing weird. My wife loved the music box. It reminded her of one she had as a kid, so she placed it in my son's room. I thought it was horrific, and it was inviting our visitor to stick around. But when nothing happened, my mind was set at ease. Months later, my son was born.

I was really hesitant to bring him home, but my wife said I was just being crazy. He would be with us for the first few months, and nothing would happen. Every once in a while, I would hear footsteps in the house at night, or the music box would randomly appear in the room, or I would hear it going off on the baby monitor. There was nothing mean-spirited, but more reassuring. After a while, you just kind of forget someone else was there. As weird as it all was, the weirdest thing came almost a year later.

Late one night, my wife and I heard scurrying underneath the house. This was unlike anything we'd ever heard before, and that's because rats had made their way in. They chewed right through the outdoor metal hatch. I had been underneath my house enough for five lifetimes, so we hired an exterminator to come over. and get rid of our rats for us. He was under our house for about 10 minutes before he came crawling back out with a quizzical look on his face. You shouldn't store things under the house. What are you talking about?

The stuffed animals. There are like 30 or so, including a big bear. The rats are ripping into him. We didn't put anything under the house. Well, someone did. I can show you. Underneath the house in the corner, near my son's room, room were all the missing stuffed animals. I know they weren't there because I went looking for them

and there was nothing. We took them all out and they were all dirty and rat infected at this point and threw them away. I felt guilty doing it like we were taking something from our visitor. That night I decided to make things right. I took the music box and put it by the outside door hatch. If we took away the visitor's animals, I wanted to give them back the music box. My wife thought I was nuts and planned on bringing the music box back into the house in the morning. Later that night, I woke up around two in the morning. I assumed my son was making noise and was hoping he'd put himself back to sleep. However, when I looked at the monitor, he was asleep.

I still don't know what compelled me to do this, but I decided to move the camera to the right towards the closet. The screen slowly shifted until I saw, on the floor outside the closet, the music box. I watched as it opened and started playing. Just then from behind me, I heard someone whisper, Thank you. I nearly jumped out of bed from fright. When I looked back at the camera, the music box was gone. When I was a kid, both of my parents had to constantly work overtime at dead-end jobs,

just to keep the lights on and food on the table. This meant that not only did we have to live very frugally, frugally, but I also didn't get to spend time with them nearly as often as a kid should. It wasn't all bad. At the very least, I knew my mom and dad cared about me and would do anything to make my life a little easier, even if they were barely ever around to show it. We were also lucky enough to live in a neighborhood that, while relatively poor, was full of neighbors who looked out for each other. But our biggest saving grace was my uncle, Chris. He was, to put it lightly, loaded. Though I never found out the specifics of what he did for a living, I knew that he had some

sort of position at NASA. Even with his busy lifestyle, he still found time to visit us at least once a month to help us pay bills, and sometimes to bring a little something special for me. Despite Chris's frequent visits to our house, however, I have to admit I never really felt like he was part of our family. Sure, he was nice and all, but every time I looked at him, He had an unreadable look on his face, like his mind was somewhere far away from our shabby home. He never felt like he belonged. Even at larger family get-togethers, when all manner of wacky characters showed up at our house. This wasn't helped by the presents he gave me.

They were always from his work. They were given to me with little to no explanation, and always weird. One time during the holidays, he handed me a glowing rock. Yep, a straight-up glowing rock. without saying what it was or why it was glowing. It stopped glowing after a week and just became a normal rock, but still. Another time on my birthday, he gave me a handful of what he called special eggs and told me to put them in water.

I assumed at the time that they'd hatch into sea monkeys or something like that. But instead, they turned the water black and made the house smell like sulfur, leading me to dump the whole thing into a storm drain. As I got older, the frequency of Chris's visits and of the presence gradually began to decrease. My parents always expressed their sympathies, as they themselves couldn't afford much for me on special occasions. But I think secretly they were glad not to have to put up with whatever Chris decided to bring into our house next. Nevertheless, Chris continued to support us financially, and as selfish as it sounds. I think we were content to accept his money without actually having to interact with them.

Then one day, when I was on winter break and around 15 years old, he showed up unannounced. It had been snowing all evening, and my mother had finished preparing a meager meal of chicken soup on the gas stove. We were all just sitting down to eat when the knock on the door came, and he was standing there, tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in white powder, looking like an oversized snowman. My mom expressed her surprise and excitement. He was still her brother, after all. and pulled him into a hug in the doorway. He simply patted her on the back,

his eyes as far away as always. After sitting down with us, Chris had explained that he had been working very hard at his department at NASA for the last few years, but he had recently accomplished something very big, allowing him to take some time off to rest. Of course, he couldn't say what he had accomplished. He had always been secretive about his job like that,

but we didn't want to get him into trouble for revealing classified information or anything like that, so we never pressed for details. Oh, Eli, he said, turning to me. This startled me enough to spill a little bit of soup on my lap, lightly singing my legs through my pants. Chris rarely called me by my name, and almost never expressed any actual interest in talking to me as he did now.

Yeah? What is it, Uncle Chris? I answered, trying my best to sound polite. I brought a little something for you at work. work. After dinner, how about you come help me try it out? I saw my parents exchanged tired, knowing looks, not only at the return of Chris's infamous presence, but at the fact that this was one that apparently needed to be tried out. Still, he had been paying our bills for all three years. The least we could do was let him stay with us for a bit, and to entertain whatever it was he had planned for me. Chris got up from the table early, telling me to stay put while walking out the front

door. From the window, I saw him rubbaging around the trunk of his car before lifting out a sizable cardboard box and disappearing from view as he carried it around the back of our house. A few minutes later, I heard the back door open again and Chris's voice calling for me to come outside. I looked at my mom, who simply nodded, as if to say, go out there and humor the guy. After putting on my ratty coat and water-damaged boots, I stepped into the snow-covered yard, mentally preparing myself to see whatever knick-knack he had stolen from Area 51. It had stopped snowing at that point, and as my eyes adjusted to the dying light,

I was surprised to see it was just a telescope. No fancy levers or buttons attached. It looked about as ordinary as telescopes come. He smiled when he saw me, or at least attempted to do what he thought a smile looked like. Sorry, I couldn't get something cooler, kiddo. Oh, no, this is great. I replied, quickly realizing that the relief in my voice could easily be mistaken for insincerity.

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was better that he didn't know a normal present was all I ever really wanted. Well, he said, might as well show you the ropes. He proceeded to show me how to work the telescope, how to adjust the focus. And when that was done, enough stars had come out for him to show me how to find a few famous constellations. I was having so much fun. I had barely noticed how late it was. Chris paused in his explanations to let out a yawn,

and it was only then I realized just how tired he looked. The bags under his distant eyes were much deeper than the last time I'd seen him. Perhaps this so-called project at NASA had really taken its toll on him. When my mom came out to check on us, Chris told us he'd better go to bed now. I asked my mom if I could stay out a bit longer and work the telescope on my own. And she agreed, as long as I came in if it got too cold. I think she was just happy I had the opportunity to play with something normal for once. As the night wore on, I continued to gaze into the eyepiece,

observing the clear night sky in detail I'd never experienced before. I could see the star-dusted arms of the Milky Way, individual craters on the moon, and even convinced myself I found Jupiter and was looking at its own moons. Eventually, my parents went to bed, leaving me out in the cold. Silent darkness, with only the stars to keep me company. I paused to look up from the eyepiece. My left eye slightly sore from being squinted shut.

I turned around to look at the dark silhouette of my house behind me. But in the process, my foot caught on an especially slippery patch of ground, bringing me down with it. I winced, hoping I hadn't sprained it for my mom's sake. I crawled back to where I was pretty sure the telescope was, gripping onto one of the legs to pull myself up. As I was doing so, I paused. On the underside of the device, there was a dial I hadn't seen yet. Chris had claimed to have shown me every function of the telescope,

but apparently he left one part out. Straining my eyes in the darkness, I could make out the notch dial was currently set to, labeled simply one. I looked back at the house again, wondering for a split second whether I should wake up Chris and ask him what it was about. But my curiosity overpowered any doubts I had. After all, it was just a normal telescope, right?

I grabbed the dial and turned it slowly to the left and heard a small click. Now it was set to another notch, labeled two. I pulled myself the rest of the way up onto my feet, eagerly looking back into the eyepiece to see what had changed. And when I did, I couldn't stop a cross. cold gasp of wonder from my escaping lips. The telescope had been pointing at the moon, which now looked so close as if I could touch it. I could see individual pebbles lining the floors of each crater, and I was sure if I looked hard enough, I'd be able to count the stars

on the American flag. Then I found Jupiter again, and laughed in delight when I was able to see the great red spot clearly, with all of its swirling glory, with the occasional dot of a moon passing in front of it. The level of detail I was getting now was sheer amazement, not even comparable to what I had seen before. I wondered why Chris hadn't mentioned this dial, the dial which seemed to unlock the humble telescope's true potential. Then, I realized that maybe it wasn't supposed to be a humble telescope after all. Maybe it had something to do with Chris's latest project at NASA. Still, Chris had never been careful about giving me gifts and had never obscured features of them from me. For him to now be hiding secrets about something, it was out of character. In the end,

I reassured myself he'd probably just forgotten to tell me about the dial, and it wasn't anything I needed to worry about. I reached down to switch it back to its default setting, planning to find it again in the morning, and ask Chris about it then. My hand faltered before reaching the dial, there was an additional notch I hadn't seen. It was labeled three. I seriously debated what to do in that moment. It was getting absurdly late, and I was already chilled down to my bone. Who knows what new discovery I would make, and how much more of the night it would take up. But this time, I made absolutely sure there was no more notches left on the dial. This was definitely the last one. So, I promised myself it would be the last thing I checked out before bed. I grabbed it and turned.

It didn't budge. I looked closer at the tiny, printed number three. There are a little bit of appeared to be a minuscule keyhole under the third notch, and it was my best guess that it was some sort of mechanism that was preventing the dial from turning any further. Well, that was that. If I needed a key to get to the third notch, it clearly wasn't something I needed to be messing around with, without Chris. I turned the dial back to one, yawned, and walked back inside. The inside of our house was just as dark and silent as the outside now. My parents had retreated to their tiny bedroom upstairs. and I was about to do the same thing to my own bed in the loft

before I caught the sight of Chris sleeping on the old couch in the living room. It was where he used to sleep, back when he made regular house calls, and hearing his light snores then gave me an odd flash of nostalgia for the days when he would regularly visit us during festivities and hand me something probably illegal. Tonight was a bit different from those days, though. For one thing, Chris had his briefcase next to him on the floor beside the couch, The mysterious briefcase I'd seen him handle many times, but that he always kept in his car.

Perhaps in his exhaustion he had forgotten to leave it there. If that was true, then he'd also forgotten to close it. The white pseudo-glow of the manila folders caught my eye in the dim room. Confidential papers spilling out of the briefcase I'd always wondered about. I felt my feet taking steps towards it, knowing they shouldn't, but being unable to resist the pull of what else might lie within. I was close enough now that if Chris woke up, there would be no excuse for me to be standing here.

I squatted down, gazing into the darkness of that briefcase, wondering if I'd find the answers to questions I didn't have. In the bottom, glinting in the weak moonlight streaming through the frosted windows, I spotted a tiny, chromatic key labeled with the number three. Okay, Eli, I said after a short mental skirmish with myself, all you're going to do is see if the key fits, then you're going to put it back where it came from and go to bed. No harm done, no questions asked. My heart fluttered as I pocketed the key, feeling as if I had just stolen government secrets and the cops were going to bust down the door any minute. But I had already

come this far. There was no stopping me now. Running stealthily back out the door, I hurried to the telescope to see if it would work. It did. There was one click, and then another as I turned the dial from one to two, and finally to three. The third notch took a little more effort, as if it was sticky, or as if it wasn't meant to be turned. I aimed the lens at a clear patch of sky, with only a few distant stars in the way, just to give me a bit of legroom for what I was about to see through the eyepiece now. No amount of legroom could have prepared me for that. When I looked into the eyepiece, at first I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. It was only abstract blobs to me.

But as the focus suggested, I realized I was no longer looking into the void of space. It looked like some sort of desert. A gray, sandblasted desert with towering dunes in a brooding, amber sky crackling with distant lighting, and facing each other on one of the dunes were two things. I don't exactly have a word for what the texture of their exteriors look like. That's probably because I'd never seen anything that did look like them. The closest thing I could think to describe them is rock-like, with cracks and crevices in their skin,

but somehow still flexible. Their bodies were tall and tapered, wider at the bottom, and separating at the top into two long appendages that amusingly resembled bunny ears. Or at least it would have been amusing if it hadn't scared me out of my own skin. The two beings were hovering slightly above the surface of the harsh desert, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were conversed. with one another. I didn't see any facial features, but they seemed to be moving slightly in turns, as if to exchange words. Then, abruptly, they stopped. The one closer to me began to turn around,

and as it did, I was slowly introduced with two burning holes in its surface. Two white-hot eyes, despite lacking any other features, instantly let me know they were furious, furious to have been spied on by someone like me. But wait, that didn't make any sense. How could this thing, this impossibly faraway thing, know that I was looking at it? The distance between us must have been crazy then. And yet, did it see me? Without any warning, the closer thing, the one that had seen me,

began to move fast toward me. The charcoal sand of the desert below was whipped up into a frenzy as it whirled closer and closer, until all that took up my field of vision was the gray of its skin. I yelped, wrenching myself away from the eyepiece and falling backwards onto my butt. My head swiveled around rapidly, as if to search for an incoming threat, but there was none. The snowy yard was just as empty, just as silent as it had been all night. I was here, and whatever I had seen was still all the way out there. Cautiously, I took another look into the eyepiece.

It was still all just gray. I turned the dial back to setting two, and the calming, familiar view of outer space was returned to me. As my heart rate slowed back to normal, I decided that the cold must be getting to me, and that getting some sleep now would be my best option. I'm sure Uncle Chris would have a good explanation in the morning, and that would be that.

As much as I reassured myself, I wasn't able to get anything more than a rest of, restless sleep that night. The next morning I was awoken to the sound of an unfamiliar voice shouting. After a few seconds, I realized it was Chris. I'd pretty much never heard him raise his voice before, so even in my groggy state, I could tell something was seriously wrong. I made my way downstairs to find Chris and my parents standing in the living room, appearing to be engaged in a one-sided argument. Chris was pacing around, rambling about missing something, and my parents, both of whom were already late to work, stood there anxiously checking the clock. It was only after my mother

managed to get a word in that she calmed him down somewhat. All right, all right, I understand that you're upset, but could you just describe what you're looking for here so we can actually help you? I've already told you a thousand times. It's a tiny silver key. It was in my case last night, and now it isn't. Got that? I felt my heart sink. I never put it back. There was no point of hiding it from him. I came clean, right then and there. I told Chris I took the key and what I'd used it for last night. I wasn't expecting to get off completely for stealing it, but at least I expected him to calm down now that he knew where it was. Quite the opposite happened. His already pale face was drained of what little color it had left. You two can go to work, he barked toward my parents,

an unusually assertive comment from him. They were already late though. and were gladly to be free of his shenanigans. Once they were out the door, he turned to me with his frenzied eyes. Show me exactly where you put it. I led Chris outside to where the telescope stood in the snow. A fresh dusting lightly covered its shiny black surface. I pointed to the tiny key,

still in the slot where I had placed it to unlock the third notch. Chris urgently bent down, turning the dial from one to three again. After a moment, he looked back at it. me, his eyes were finally here and not somewhere else, and said only one thing, you need to leave. And that's the story of how my family got set up in a new luxury, modern home on a secluded rural property. Chris never explained why he bought a new home for us, nor why it was so far away from our old one. But of course, my parents were ecstatic about it. They were a little sad to leave

our old friends of the rundown neighborhood in the past, but that was a small price to pay for a better life. I never told my parents what happened that night either. I didn't want them to worry about me. Chris still sent an occasional check, but now we were so well off thanks to him. We didn't need much of his help anymore. Eventually, he stopped sending us anything,

stopped coming to our house, stopped talking with us all together. We forgot about him, and I forgot about what I had seen in the telescope. My parents were able to get decent jobs, and after a few years, I moved out and got my own place. Everything was well, until this morning.

I was balancing a budget from my new house, while the local news from my town was playing on the flat screen in the same room. It was just background noise, really. I wasn't paying much attention to what was actually going on, not until I happened to look up at the right moment, to catch the sight of something that made me do a double take. An extremely grainy photograph was displayed on the screen, the kind that could only be of something very far away, outer space levels of far away.

This was reaffirmed by the black background and fuzzy white dots scattered in the background of the photo, but what stuck out to me was the dark, grayish blur in the center of the photograph. It shouldn't have meant anything to me, and yet it did, because this particular blur had a long, tattered shape, and it ended in what resembled like long bunny ears. Suddenly, everything that happened that night came back to me, and now I was in desperate need to know the context of this image, fumbling for the remote and cranking up the volume. In other news, astronomers recently spotted this piece of debris as it rapidly entered

the solar system yesterday morning. While its unusual shape may peak the interest of some, we are told that it is no cause of alarm, as dozens of meteors and other small space debris swing by the planet every single year. The recent meteor shower last weekend should be proof of this, of course. Oh, were you able to catch that, Sam? I had to work that night. I did indeed, Katie, and it was as beautiful as they say. I'll send you a video sometime. Now here's the weather. The sounds of the TV meant nothing to me, as they were replaced by the pounding of dread in my ears. I wanted to call Chris, to call someone who would understand, but I realized I hadn't had his number in years. I don't know who else I could talk to about this, but I do know one thing. That debris

isn't going to simply swing by planet Earth. It's coming for me. After I told you all about my uncle's telescope and what I saw through it that haunts me to this day, many of you expressed interest in keeping you informed as to what happened next. At the time, I had bigger things to worry about than writing about my own demise, such as preventing demise from happening in the first place. But after the events of the past 24 hours, and now that I'm in a position to post them, I feel it's my duty to share them with you. Let me start by going back to the point after I heard the news of space debris on the TV. I spent most of the minutes immediately afterward pacing my living room, racking my brains as to what anyone was supposed to do in this situation. I couldn't call

my parents, as they'd probably think it was some sort of prank call and just hang up. If I reported an I was an alien rapidly approaching to my location to 911, I'd be more likely to get thrown into a mental ward. And of course, my uncle was off the table. To call my condition a panic attack would have been an understatement. I was about to take shelter in my unfinished basement and hope for the best when a knock came from the door. Turns out, I didn't need to call anyone after all. I hadn't seen Chris for almost six years, yet I instantly recognized the man who stood outside my house. He was balder, his stubble more unkempt, his posture slouchier, and his eyes obscured by opaque shades.

But he was still the same, tall, broad-shouldered man of mystery I'd always known. Uncle Chris? The words tripped over each other as they spilled from my mouth in both relief and confusion. How did you find where I live? You probably already know why I'm here, Chris replied. His voice hoarse and worn out. So I think it's in both of our best interest. to skip the formalities and just get you out of here.

The man paused to look down at as expensive, as always, watch. It's passing through the asteroid belt now. We only have a few hours left. Should I... should I pack? I looked back into the house with uncertainty. The TV on. Paperwork strewn out on the coffee table. I was still in a state of disbelief that any of this was happening.

You want to die because you took too long to choose your undies. Car. Now. Chris seemed to look to look. lot rougher around the edges now than I had ever seen him in the past. It made me wonder what he'd been up to since we lost contact and how it changed him. Right then, though, doing what he said and not questioning why he said it was my best option. My only option, really. Okay, let me just turn off the no time. Chris grabbed me by the arm, despite clear signs of aging. He was still just as strong as ever, and practically dragged me to the front seat of his car before I could even shut the door.

Several of my neighbors were out mowing or watering, like an alien wasn't inbound towards earth at Mach 5, and gave odd looks at the stranger pulling me into his vehicle. I flashed a pleasant smile at them, just to dissolve any worries or urges to call the police they may have had. I sure didn't need anything else coming after me. Chris drove like a madman through the winding streets, and it was only when he entered the interstate and our surroundings became nothing but flat, empty farmland, that I felt safe enough to stop gripping the edge of my seat and actually say something to the guy who just borderline

kidnapped me. So, uh, I was assuming you would tell me, but you want to give me any info on the thing? After a moment of silence, I thought perhaps Chris hadn't heard me or didn't know what I was referring to when I said the word thing. I was about to clarify, but the emergence of a long, horroed sigh from the man's mouth signaled he knew exactly what I meant, and clearly didn't enjoy talking about it. A small, unknown terrestrial planet orbiting a star around 500 light years from Earth. That's the point of origin, as you probably figured out. It's been coming after you for the past six years, which means at its peak velocity it somehow was able to greatly exceed light speed. Like any moving object, though, it needs to slow down when approaching its destination,

which means it reduced its speed exponentially the moment it entered our system. Of course, that buys us a little time to get you somewhere safe, but not much. and it's less and less time for every second I spend explaining this to you. For the sake of my own life, I respected Chris's requests, not asking him anything else throughout the drive and not even attempting to turn on the radio. Instead, I watched the cloudless sky out the window, wondering if the creature was somewhere above Earth's orbit right now.

After what seemed like hours of deserted farmland, Chris turned onto a small country road, and then onto an even smaller gravel path, at last approaching what looked more like a prison than something related to NASA, a stark, unmarked concrete building with no windows, surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with barbed barbed wire. I wanted to desperately ask what this place was, but I remained silent up until the point he stopped the car in front of the facility, turning towards me to speak. Eli, I was... careless. I will admit that now. I shouldn't have given you something that even I was

barely trusted to have. It's my fault you're in this mess to begin with. I'm sorry. I was stunned for a brief moment, both because he was capable of apologizing for being such a weird uncle, and also because he would choose now of all times to do so, before quickly formulating my own reply. It's okay, Uncle Chris. It's partly my fault anyway. I was a stupid kid, and I shouldn't have stolen your key. Either way, I forgive you. Good, now let's get out of this car. We ran across the gravel and into the entrance of the compound, guarded by what appeared to be two armed soldiers, since when does NASA need guards? It's a blur in my memory what happened next, but I know we ran past many armed guards and people in white coats,

an unfamiliar machinery before entering an elevator, and going down for what felt like an eternity. Though we were alone again in said elevator, I still refrained from speaking. What was I supposed to say at that point? Luckily, when the doors finally opened, there was someone waiting there to break the silence. A stout, bespectacled man in one of those white coats stood in a long, dim, concrete tunnel into which we emerged. When he caught the sight of us, his face lit up. Christopher, long time no sea. He approached my uncle, giving him an enthusiastic handshake that was only half-heartedly returned,

before grabbing my own hand. You must be Elijah. You can call me Dr. Roth. I've heard a lot about you, you know. Oh, that's good, I guess. I forced a smile out of common courtesy, my hand aching from his death grip. We've been tracking your location for the past six years, Eli, Chris explained. Not in a creepy way.

We still gave you your privacy. We just needed to know where you were so we could get to you safely when this time came. The bunker you're standing in was designed by Dr. Roth himself, and it should be able to resist the presence of any and all extraterrestrial beings. Dr. Roth nodded in admiration of himself. That's right. No way, no how, Benicula is standing up to human ingenuity. Benicula?

I saw Chris roll his eyes. It's nickname for the thing. Pay no mind to it. He's always coming up with stuff like that. Well, it is accurate, I pointed out, doing a figurative faceplant of an attempt to interject some humor into the conversation. You're safe now, Dr. Roth said.

But we still got a bit of time. before Benicula pays us a visit. In the meantime, there's something I'd like to show you, shall we? He beckoned further into the tunnel. I looked at Chris, who nodded begrudgingly, and we both began to follow the doctor into the bunker. For a bunker, it seemed to go on a lot longer than it needed to, especially if it was only meant to protect one person. It seemed like an entire new floor to the compound, with various doors in the curved metal walls leading off to who knows what. At last, Dr. Roth stopped in front of one particular door at the far end of the tunnel, turning to face us. I should mention, everything you've seen here is highly confidential,

not even high-level personnel at NASA know about it, so I'm going to need to take your phone and have you promised not to leak any of this to anyone. Oh, of course, I replied, handing him my phone. It was a small sacrifice in return for being somewhere Benincula couldn't get to me. The The doctor gave me a gracious smile as he pocketed my device. Your parents have been notified of your absence as well, of course. They've been told that you're on a faraway business trip to limit any chances of them attempting to contact. Now, without further ado,

Dr. Roth punched a coat into the metal door, and it opened with a loud screech resonating through the tunnel. He flourished his arms in a welcoming motion, us in, before following suit and shutting the door behind him. The room behind had a strangely high ceiling and seemed to stretch far beyond the bunker, exceeding the boundaries of what would be able to protect me, but that didn't phase me, because my focus was on what occupied all that space, stacked high to the ceiling where dozens

and dozens of cardboard boxes. What's in them? I wondered out loud. My voice echoing throughout the chamber, Dr. Roth strolled past me until he reached the base of the cardboard mountain, reaching for one of the boxes that stood by itself on the floor, With surprising strength, he tore back the cardboard flaps until the contents of the destroyed box stood fully exposed. Look familiar? My eyes widened in recognition. It was disassembled, but I still recognized the parts of the telescope.

Well, not the telescope, but the same model. An exact replica of the one Chris had given me all those years ago. Could all of the boxes in this room really contain one? Chris stepped further into the room behind me, his hand stopped. in his pockets. Dr. Roth was a partner of mine for a good number of years. He and I worked together to design a scope that would be able to see closely to observe worlds light years away from our own. I mostly handled manufacturing of components, but Roth's the real mastermind behind the project. In fact, he's the only person that actually knows how it works. Dr. Roth

concurred. No other telescopes like these exist outside of this room. I continue to stare up at the dizzy heights of the stacked boxes. But I don't get it. Why did you keep making so many more? Wasn't the first one too dangerous to be kept around? Been asking myself the same question for years, I heard Chris mutter under his breath. Dr. Roth walked back to me until he was standing directly by my side, turning his head toward the ceiling to mirror my own. Oh, well, the answer is very simple, Elijah. You see, your uncle thought your experience with the telescope was a sign that we should abandon the project completely. I, on the other hand, sought for what it really was, an incredible opportunity. We've been observing the planet's surface long before your uncle gave you that telescope,

but you were the first one to actually catch sight of its native life. How great of a coincidence was that? I guess it was pretty lucky, I admitted, withholding the fact that I wish I'd never seen that native No such thing as luck, Dr. Roth chuckled. This is the future, humanity's future. I'm sure you've heard the saying, offense is the best defense. Well, that applies to both on our world and off it. Now we can finally observe the threats from a distance. Humanity has the upper hand to anticipate attacks before they even happen.

We can finally take the universe as our rightful domain and destroy any opposing forces that get in our way. Attacks, my brow-frews. brow furrowed, realizing that what Dr. Roth was saying was beginning to not make sense. But the creature I saw is attacking me, not the planet. It's the only reason it's here in the first place, because I looked at it through that telescope. Before Dr. Roth could respond, an echoing boom sounded from above, seeming to shake the entire foundation of the compound. Yellow fluorescent lights flickered, small chunks of plaster and concrete showered down from the ceiling,

and I swore I could hear a distance screaming. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris fumble to look at his watch, checking something I could see from this angle. When he looked back up, the unfamiliar presence of raw terror was in his eyes. It's here, Roth. We need to get to the back of the bunker. Now. Dr. Roth didn't move.

Roth! Chris screamed an exasperation before dashing back to the door and attempting to wretch it open. No luck. It was locked. we were on the wrong side. My heart began to race as I realized we were in an atrium, a perfect environment for something to crash down from several levels above. Had Dr. Roth planned this? Why would he possibly want this thing to find us, to be in the same room as us, as me? I began to hear it, a sound that turns my blood to ice when I think about it. The sound of

multiple layers of steel and concrete being crushed to powder as an unimaginable force forged its path directly down to where we were standing. It was headed right for me. Eli, help me get the door open. I heard Chris cry out in a final act of desperation. I ran to help him, preparing to give it my all, and catching sight of Dr. Roth's face as I did. He was wearing a sickening smile. I never reached the door. The upper layer of the ceiling was penetrated instantly, sending shockwaves through the chamber and knocking me off of my feet. I caught sight of something, a blur that was enormous, and yet fast enough to appear almost graceful, shoot down to the floor. The tower of telescopes collapsed, glass flying everywhere.

I raised my arm to protect myself, and when the barrage had stopped, I cautiously lowered it to the sight I hoped I'd never see. It was here. It was about ten feet tall, and its stone-like skin was heaving, a steam-like substance radiating from its body. It hovered just above the collapsed heap of glass and metal. its bunny ear appendages twitching, observing us, just as I had observed it. Then, abruptly, it hurried itself the rest of the way down onto the floor,

breaking the already smashed telescopes into smaller pieces. It rose back up again, only to repeat this process, to continue to smash the telescopes, to relentlessly fling its body against the floor over and over again, until it made sure that not a single one was left intact, until each and every shard of glass was pummeled to dust. I have no idea how long we sat there watching it, but I do remember the dread hanging in the air when it finally stopped

and continued to just stare at us. Fascinating. I heard Dr. Roth mutter from behind me. It was targeting the object that had observed it, but all along that object was the telescope itself. No matter, I can always make more. I looked at Chris, the disbelief on his face disheartening, Not even he knew what was going on.

What was happening right now hadn't been a part of the plan. We briefly made eye contact, and I think seeing me, seeing that I was still alive and kicking, was enough to knock him out of his stupor. Roth, you crazy idiot, my uncle screamed. What are you trying to do? Roth turned around, his face and voice disturbingly calm,

despite the presence of an unworldly being right in front of him. I'm testing. Christopher, that's what our job has always been. here, isn't it? This is simply one more test. If we are to bear witness to the behavior of this creature in an unrestricted environment, we are to better understand it. If we are better to understand it, we are better to destroy it. Destruction is the only path to true progress, and it always requires a bit of... Sacrifice. He was talking about me. My uncle still looked furious, but I could tell he was tired.

He had been working non-stopped or prepare this place for me, and now it had gone to waste. It was as if his purpose had been lost. When he pulled himself back on his feet and spoke again, it was in a low, panting growl, like an exhausted predator. This plan of yours, Roth, does it include locking yourself in with the sacrifice? Because unless that thing lets you walk out of here, that's exactly what you've done. Dr. Roth laughed a chilling, maniacal sound. Of course I can just leave.

I just have to wait for the right moment. Now that it has to destroy all the things with the power to see, it's going to be super easy to destroy the thing that saw it in the first place. You can leave with me too, Christopher, while it is distracted with what it is truly here for. Dr. Roth turned around to face the creature, and I'm not sure why, but what he did next deeply disturbs me. He began talking to it, his arms spreading outward, flailing like mad. Well, why don't you give in to your infirm?

fear of primal urges, finish your hunt, destroy the one you came here for, destroy him so that we may destroy you. The creature continued to stare. It's unblinking, white-hot eyes burning into each of us, passing judgment with wordless fury. It looked at me, at Uncle Chris, and back to the doctor. Its body only slightly turning each time, hovering just above the ground with almost imperceptible stillness. Then, in one swift motion, it descended upon the doctor.

the doctor and absorbed him into its being. Both Chris and I cried out in alarm as the doctor's life was ended in a muffled scream that dissolved him into silence. My legs turned to jelly, unable to support my trembling body as I fell to my knees. I felt like cornered prey, petrified, unable to escape as the creature began to slowly approach. I was sure I was next, that me, and maybe Chris too, were about to meet the same fate as the doctor. It stopped just a few feet away from me and angled its levitating body downward so its white, radiant eyes were level with my own. We stared into each other, and somehow I could tell that it knew, knew that I had never been the true threat, and all it wanted was to exist on its world without interference,

and through some unknown clairvoyance, it had realized Dr. Roth challenged that existence. With the doctor and all of his creations gone, any chance of being observed, of targeted, of needlessly wiped out by an over-aggressive force were gone. The creature felt safe now, and that's all it had ever wanted. It backed away, leaving me breathless on the floor. My skin still pierced with shards of glass it had shattered across the room. It floated back to the center of the chamber, until it was directly below the hole through which it came.

And then, with an unimaginable yet silent speed, it rocketed upward into nothingness. It was gone. It has been about six hours since all of this happened. Chris and I got our cuts treated and we drove back to my house. I know I promised that I wouldn't post any information about the compound online. And I know that if it's seen by anyone from Chris's department, whatever it is, it might get taken down.

But I know that no harm will come to me. I don't know when I'll see Chris again. But I do know that if he's willing to protect me from aliens and crazy scientists, a few government hitmen should be. be no problem. The last thing that Chris told me before he left was that besides the gaping hole in the NASA facility, there was no evidence left behind of the creature ever being on Earth. It had been so fast that there wasn't any evidence of it entering the atmosphere in the first place. And if I'm being honest, that's probably for the best, and not just because I don't want to be on the news. If there's one thing I learned, it's that there are some things in this universe

that simply want to be left to their own devices, and as long as you let them be, be, no harm will ever come to you or your world. But if you decide to interfere, you have been warned. This is Elijah, signing off. I've been what some may call a wilderness expert for almost two decades now. I plan my trips to various forests very carefully to ensure I make it out alive. I bring all of the supplies necessary to survive for a couple weeks in case I get lost, and I also bring a satellite phone, GPS, and a weapon as a last resort. Sometimes getting lost in the woods is part of the fun. As long as you know what you're doing, that is.

The story I'm sharing with you today is of a young man who didn't take all the precautions I would recommend for a journey into an unknown forest. On my most recent expedition to the Superior National Forest in Minnesota, I came upon a journal hanging from a tree. There were only a few pages left in the journal. All the rest were torn out to be used for kindling as the writer addresses in the journal. The contents of the journal are very strange, and I'll touch on that later. But without further ado, this is what the journal said.

My name is Anthony Lawrence. I am a student of Bemagy State University. I don't know what the exact date is, but I first came out here on August 3, 2017. I think it's been about two weeks now. If you find this journal, you can stop looking for me. I don't have much paper left in this journal, so I'll have to try to keep this short. About two weeks before coming out here, I got a message on Facebook from some guy saying he's looking for healthy young adventurers who want to earn some money. He said that he'd give me $1,000 to spend 48 hours in the woods, using whatever resources I came across to stay alive.

Apparently, he was writing some kind of book about wilderness survival and wanted to see what people did in their 48 hours to stay alive. He would provide each individual with a backpack containing limited supplies and a GoPro camera to record the adventure. I used to be an Eagle Scout, so I figured, sure, two days in the woods is nothing. And with that kind of money, I could buy a new gaming chair for my dorm and have enough left over for pizza for the whole next semester. I messaged him back, and we set up a time to meet. I was to bring nothing other than some sturdy clothes. He said he'd provide everything I would need to survive in the woods for the two days. When I met with him, he seemed like a nice enough guy.

Clearly, he was very wealthy too, as he dropped me off at my spot in the forest with his personal helicopter. On the flight over, he explained that the backpack had a GPS tracking device in it, so that he could find me wherever I was after the 48 hours, and he'd come pick me up. I thought it was safe to assume this guy knew what he was doing, considering all the prep work he'd put into this, so I trusted him. He dropped me off and flew away. I'd spent the first few minutes sorting through what I had in the backpack. There was a simple pocket knife, which I stuffed into my front cargo pocket on my pants for quick access.

I was given a small journal, which I also put in my cargo pants. The rest of the contents were a matchbook with two matches, a full water bottle, one of those silver thermal blankets, some rope, and various other supplies you'd expect to see in a survival kit that I doubted I'd be using. Oh, and of course the GoPro, which I'd strapped to my chest. There was no map, compass, or any kind of navigation equipment. The idea, I guess, was that I was lost in the woods and had to survive. So, I set off.

I spent most of the first day hiking in as straight of a path as I could manage. Other than the clearing where we landed, it was nothing but thick wooded areas so far. My first goal was to find a source of water I could come back to when needed, but so far, no luck. I was dropped off in the early afternoon, so at this point it was starting to get to it dark and the temperature was dropping. I decided I should start setting up camp. I gathered various small branches and brush from around the area and found a small clearing where I could start a fire without setting the whole forest ablaze. I used the tiny pocket knife to cut off smaller branches from the surrounding trees and got a decent size stockpile of wood for the night. I had to make use

of some of the pages from the journal for kindling to get the fire started and carefully lit one of the two matches I had to get it going. So far, so good. I took out the thermal blanket and lay down to sleep next to the fire. I awoke before the rise of the sun. The fire was just ash at this point, and I didn't want to waste my other match so early getting the fire started. So I packed everything up and set off again. After several more hours of hiking, I finally heard something that was music to my ears, running water, a stream. At this point, my water bottle was nearly empty, so I was a static that I'd be able to finish it off and refill. Two days out here for $1,000, easiest money I've ever made. I followed the sound of water to a small stream that seemed to go on for quite a way. After filling

my water bottle, I decided to follow the stream in the direction it was flowing from, ideally to find a lake or something. I still had plenty of daylight left, so I kept going. I was getting pretty hungry at this point, so it'd be nice to find a lake with some fish in it, but even in the worst case scenario, I could last two days without food, no problem. It was getting dark again, and the stream I was following was getting wider, but still no lake in sight. I should have just set up camp right then when I still had daylight, but I was determined to find this lake, and I kept going. After a couple more hours, it was just too dark to continue. There was some moonlight shining through the leaves above, but not much. Not enough to keep following this stream, so I did the best

I could to gather up some more wood for another fire in the dark of the night, and set up a makeshift campground again. I started the fire with pages from the journal for kindling again, and used my last match. I hunkered down and went to sleep, excited to find this lake the following morning and get some food before the sky picked me up to go back home. Loud cracking woke me up in the middle of the night, branches breaking from all around me. I sprang to my feet, startled. I wasn't sure what kind of wildlife was out there, but it could very well be bears or wolves.

Adrenaline began pumping through my body, and I tried to listen for where the sounds were coming from, but I could barely hear over my heartbeat. I had to do something, though. I couldn't just stand here like an idiot, waiting to be eaten. Whatever kind of animal this was, I felt like I'd be safe if I could climb one of these trees. As the cracking of the branches grew closer and louder, I began to climb a big pine tree near me,

with plenty of branches making it easy enough to climb. The fire was dying down very quickly, but I had enough residual light to start the climb. I got up a few branches, probably about six feet off of the ground, when the noises stopped. So I stopped too. I strained my ears to listen, but again, it was difficult to hear over my heartbeat. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, two of my hands gripping adjacent branches above, one of my feet supporting me and the other foot hanging freely, nothing but silence around me now. I had thought maybe whatever it was had gone now, and that I was safe.

I adjusted my grip on the tree, when the branch my foot was on broke off, and I lost my grip on the branches above. I fell backwards and hit my head on the hard ground below, knocking me unconscious. I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, it was still dark. Even darker than before, it seemed. I wasn't on the ground where I had landed, though. I was on a flat surface, like a table. I tried to sit up and look around, but I couldn't move.

I realized then that my hands and feet were bound to this table. I panicked, flexing every muscle in my body trying to get free of this trap. I screamed over and over again. As I struggled, I heard what sounded like voices all around me, but could not discern what the voices were saying. I thought I was alone out there. I was literally in the middle of nowhere. Who is out here?

Who is trapping people down in the middle of the forest? I continued to convulse my body, feeling the bindings that were holding me down, loosen ever so slightly. That's when it got really scary, though. I don't know if I was drugged or what, but really crazy stuff started to happen. I heard a loud thumping noise.

I heard branches breaking. No. trees, entire trees being snapped in half from the sound of it. Something was getting closer to me. The voices around me got louder, sounding like some kind of chanting. I quickly realized that I was some kind of sacrifice. Maybe this was all in my head. I don't really know.

The absurdity of it all makes it difficult for me to believe that whatever was happening was real. The thumping and cracking of the woods grew louder and louder until I could make out some kind of silhouette against the backdrop of the woods in front of me, barely illuminated by the moonlight. Whatever it was, it was impossibly huge. I was freaking out like I never freaked out before. I screamed as I continued to try to get free of the bindings holding me down.

As I watched the forest being torn down in front of me, the chanting from the voices grew louder and louder. The beast was probably a hundred yards away from me when I got one of my hands loose. My face was a mess of tears and snot from crying, which I hadn't realized I'd been doing until now. I broke my hand free and quickly wiped away at my face before getting to work on the other bindings. Once I had that one hand free, I was able to make quick work of the other bindings. I got my other hand free, and the creature let out a deafening roar. The chanting voices around me stopped.

I hastened my pace and shakingly got to work on the other bindings on my feet. After a mere couple of seconds, I was free from the same. these as well. I sprang up from the table and began to run. I fell over almost immediately. I was incredibly dizzy. They had to have drugged me. I got back up and continued running away from the beast. I could still hear the forest being torn down behind me, but I did not turn around to look. I just kept running, struggling to overcome the dizziness and keep upright. Whatever this thing was, it was either very slow or just didn't care enough to pursue me. After a few minutes of running, I could no longer hear the creature, the breaking of the trees, or the chanting voices.

But I did not stop. I could not stop. Even if the creature didn't continue in my pursuit, chances are the source of those voices would not let their sacrifice get away that easily. Eventually, I saw the sun rising on the horizon, and I figured I'd been running for long enough. I stopped, leaning my back against a tree, and slouched to the ground. I was so scared, and in so much pain from the fall from the tree, the bull. binding on my hands and feet, the tumble to the ground when I got free, and all those thorns I ran through during my escape. I put my head between my legs and sobbed uncontrollably.

Once I was done with my episode, I wiped my face off with my shirt and assessed my situation. I no longer had the backpack or the GoPro. In my cargo pockets, I still had the small pocket knife. I wish I'd realized sooner that I still had this, and the journal, but that was all. I almost had a psychotic break when I realized that without the... that backpack, the guy who brought me here would have no way of finding me. I had to get myself together and figure out what I was going to do. The stream I was following the previous night was nowhere near. I had no idea where I was in relation to the stream, my starting point, or even the area that I had just run from. I was lost to begin with, but now I was really lost.

They say that if you get lost in the woods, you should stay where you're at so that you're not continually running away from whatever search parties they may send to find you. But I couldn't do that, not with whatever creature was out there, and the cultists, or whoever they were that were helping it. I had to keep moving, and I had to come up with a plan now on how I was going to get the backpack back. After a few minutes of collecting myself, I stood up and began to walk. I didn't know where I was going, but I figured I had like a 50% chance of finding my starting point, the cultist area, or the stream I was following if I just kept walking.

It was a few hours yet to the 48-hour mark, so he'd have to come looking for me soon. Maybe if I heard his helicopter, I could somehow signal him. I walked for hours, and everything was so unfamiliar. The sun was at its highest point, but still no sound of a helicopter. I didn't even know how far those people brought me from where I was at. I could be miles away from where I thought I was. I kept walking all day.

Eventually, it was getting dark again, and I was still lost. I had no supplies. All that I had was my pocket knife and my... journal. Well, one thing I learned in my time in the Boy Scouts was how to start a fire by rubbing a couple sticks together. So I took out my pocket knife and got to work on gathering wood. I knew that I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. It was too risky, but I at least had to keep warm. After probably an hour of rubbing a couple sticks together, I finally got a fire going. I had to use more pages from the journal to get the fire started, so at this point I needed to conserve

the pages. I didn't know how long I was going to be out here. As anticipated, I didn't sleep at all. I just sat by the fire all night, trying to keep the flame small not to draw any unwanted attention. Nothing ever came to bother me, though. Morning came, and I'd been out here for almost three days now. I was overcome with hunger and thirst. If I was to be out here for a while,

I absolutely had to find that stream again. I tried to remember which way I was walking those first two days based on the position of the sun. I think I figured it out, and I started to find out, walking in the opposite direction, perpendicular the way I had been walking the day before. I had walked all day in that direction, and still nothing, so I set up camp and actually slept a little bit that night. The next day, I finally found some water. I don't know if it was the same stream I saw before, but it didn't matter. At least I'd be able to survive a little bit longer. I brought my face down to the stream and gulp

directly from it, like an animal. I was amazed at how much I was able to drink and how satisfying it was. some of the water to wash my face and feet and set off to follow the stream to its source. I followed this stream for several days. I didn't want to stray too far from it, as it was the only thing really keeping me alive. Eventually, though, I came across a larger portion of the stream, where I saw several frogs and tadpoles. I was starving at this point. I didn't really care how disgusting it was. I was going to eat these frogs. So, that's what I did. I started a fire using the same technique that I was starting to get pretty good at, and I cooked some frogs and ate them. People say it tastes like chicken, and, well, they're not wrong. I continued this routine of

following the stream for the next couple days, and it was getting wider. I was starting to think that I had found my way again, and the theory was confirmed when I saw ashes from my fire from the second night. Luckily, I had daylight to work with this time. This is where I fell from the tree, and they took me away somewhere. I'm not an expert tracker by any means, but there were definite signs of broken branches that I was able to follow, hopefully to where they brought me to. I follow this trail for a long, long time, and when I was starting to think I wasn't going to find what I was looking for, I saw it. I saw an opening in the forest where the beast had come through, and I saw the table where they strapped me down. I kept my distance, assessing the area. I didn't see any signs of

human or animal life, but if they took my backpack, it had to be near here. That brings me to now. I'm writing this all down just in case I fail, and I don't get the backpack. I'm going to hang this journal from a nearby tree. If I don't come back for it, that probably means that whatever is in these woods has got me, and like I said, you can stop looking. Whatever that thing was, if it wasn't in my imagination, I have no doubt that it could kill me without much trouble. If you are reading this, I am definitely gone. And that's all there was. There was no more blank pages to write on if he wanted to. He had used up the rest of these pages for kindling, I guess. I searched around the area, I found the journal to see if I could find any evidence of his encounters.

But I don't see any cavities in the forest from a large creature, and I don't see any kind of table that he might have been bound to. There's no sign that any of this actually happened from what I can tell. The date he wrote down was two years ago. I did some research. As I mentioned earlier, there was something really strange about all of this, and I'm not talking about the creature he described. It's likely that the knock on his head had him confused, and his mind was filling in the blanks for something that didn't really happen. I looked him up on Google first, and found a missing person's report from August 2017, so he definitely existed. And this wasn't just some prank journal left in the woods. Then I looked him up on Facebook. His last

Facebook posts just said, going camping for a couple days, won't have phone service, talk to you all soon. So he didn't really tell people what he was doing. I got a hold of the boys' family and gave them this journal and tried to get more information from them. Obviously, this was very hard for them to take in, but curiosity got the better of me, and I had to know more. I convinced them to sign into their son's Facebook account, which they were able to get into as his password was saved on his home computer and look for the message he talked about in the journal. We found the message he described in his journal from the guy offering $1,000. Only thing is, the guy was a ghost. He never existed. His name doesn't turn up in any results, and if it was truly a wilderness survival

guide author, I would for sure have found something. But no, it all seemed to be some kind of scam. Whoever this guy was, he actually convinced this kid to go into the woods by himself, promising to pick him up after two days, likely with no intention to actually follow through. How many people did he do this too? Was there actually some kind of colt out there he was working with, bringing them sacrifices? Well, hopefully the police will be able to find something out. I doubt I'll ever hear the results of their findings, but I just really hope they find this guy. I'll leave you with a little piece of advice.

Never go out into the woods alone, especially without any kind of communication or navigation equipment. And please, let someone know where you're going. There are secrets buried deep in the heart of the Appalachians, secrets that have never seen the light of day, some that would drive a man insane, some that will and should never be uncovered. I've been hiking through the Appalachians for a long time, born nearby and had a love for nature, so it was a natural fit. I made the hike up and down the whole of the mountains several times and developed a respect for them. Rather, a deep reverence.

You care for the mountain, and it cares for you. You disrespect the mountain, and it will get its vengeance. I was taught that early. I seen a lot of things in my years, but this one takes the cake. I'd taken a month off from work, and was prepared to hike through the Appalachians from bottom to top. First day started off as normal, surrounded by the sounds of nature, I was relaxed and taking it slow. There's a calm that comes about when you escape from the city into nature.

I think that's why I keep coming back. The second day, that calm was broken. As I woke up, I cooked myself some breakfast and was set to head out soon when I noticed the whole forest was quiet. Normally, this never happens. There's always some birds chirping, insects making noise, and the occasional animal that gets curious. Today, there was none of that.

Unsettled, I decided to take off anyway and continue my journey. By noon, the quiet still had been following me. However, I noticed there seemed to be something following me. I had no proof, just a gut feeling. As anyone who's been around will tell you, always trust that feeling. That's how I've made it through many of the journeys I've made. I've come across many animals, but for some reason, it didn't feel like it was a bear or a mountain lion on my tail.

Whatever it was, I made sure to stay well. out of sight. I continued on until evening time when I started to set up camp. The sounds gradually started coming back, but the feeling was still there. I decided that the best thing I could do was get a fire going and make sure to keep it up all night. It wouldn't be my first sleepless night in the woods, but I was hardly happy about it. I ate my dinner and brewed up some coffee and settled in with a book. Around one or two in the morning I woke up. I must have dozed off while reading, I thought. Fire's still going well and good, thankfully. The forest sounds were back, and my unease had settled. I took some more of the coffee that I had left on and sat back,

trying to think of what could have been following me earlier. It didn't take long before I realized there was a pair of eyes watching me from out in the dark. Nothing is more terrifying than knowing you're being watched by something out in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. The mountains always keep you at their mercy, sometimes they're kind, sometimes less so. I'd like to think this was one of those times where I was lucky that some sort of karma came back to me and saved me. I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. However, those eyes started to come out of the woods, forming a mountain line behind them. A gunshot rang through the night and caught it right between the eyes.

I turned around and looked behind me. There stood a man, taller than anyone I'd ever seen before, bigger too. He looked rough, beard, unkempt, and long, hair that hit his shoulders that looked equally as rough, and with a voice that sounded of the deep rumbling of the earth itself. He spoke to me. Lucky you. I'm sorry? I stammered, not quite hearing him at first.

Lucky you. The mountain. She saved you. He said, moving toward his kill. What do you mean? You were the one that saved me. Thank you, by the way. Would you care for some coffee?

I managed to get out. My feeling of uneasiness came back. My anxiety skyrocketing as everything in me told me. to run. He was quiet for a second, looking surprised by the offer. Sure, it ain't often I see good folk up here, mostly just bad that need punishing, he said with a thick accent. I poured him a cup, trying to make sense of what he was saying. I'm sorry, I don't have any cream or sugar with me. He chuckled a deep laugh that seemed to come from the very ground beneath us. Black's fine. That's how I like it anyway. I see that you know to take care of her, he said, pointing to my bag full of

trash. I handed him a mug of coffee and took a deep gulp of my own before replying. Of course. No sense to soil the beauty of the mountain. It just wouldn't be right to leave all of this laying around for the animals to get into. I see why she told me to come to you. I was watching you earlier to make sure I didn't need to take care of you. I stopped. You were following me? When? I barely got out, all aware of his rifle around his shoulders. Of course, most of the day. Don't get many folk around this part, and I had to make sure. It's my job and my home.

I got to take care of the mountains. She's kind to me when I'm kind to her. Just like how she sent me here to save you. She don't like to see the good ones die on her. He said with all seriousness. What do you mean by she? I don't understand. I trailed off as he stared at me.

Eyes, an unnatural shade of yellow, almost akin to cat eyes, seeming to stare deep into my soul, seeing me for who I was and not who I appeared to be. The mountain, or the spirit of the mountains. Me and my kin are her protectors. I can see you're not quite following, but that's all right. Just know that you're lucky it's me that found you. Some of my kin don't take kindly to any strangers, much less humans in their neck of the woods.

I'm all right with you if you're all right with the mountain. The silence drowned between us as I didn't know what to say, not fully understanding what was going on. Thanks for the kindness, stranger. But she needs me again. It ain't going to be pretty. As he got up, he moved on out of the camp. And as he moved beyond the firelight, he seemed to just disappear.

I thought I caught a glimpse of a large animal where he had been, but surely I was just tired. After the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion set in, I felt myself drifting off. I woke up in the morning, not quite believing what had happened last night. I wouldn't have believed it to be a dream, but the cup was still there, and so was the mountain lion. I'm not one to back down from the journey. I decided to press onward. Everything seemed to have returned to normal. That is until about lunchtime, I started to smell

something wrong. I made my way forward. Recognizing the smell of blood, I made my way into what seemed like a mess of a camp. There were three tents, but not a single sign of anyone nearby. Trash was thrown everywhere, and the stench was heavy. I took a little bit of a mess of a camp. I took I took it upon myself and made my way to the nearest town, about half a day away to report it, but I knew they were gone, whoever they were. At the moment, it all became so real. The mountain chose to spare me, but she was not kind to those who had disrespected her. I still go back, but with more reverence, and now, fear. This happened to me a few years back when I was in my early twenties.

I'm a four-foot-10, 140-pound female. At the time, I worked in a department store at the makeup counter. This job relies heavily on good customer service and building relationships because you want people to come back and spend money on your products. We are given personalized business cards so that we can build up our own client base, very important for a commission department. It's not uncommon to be familiar with the people who frequently shop in the store. As workers, our training is focused on being friendly and accommodating.

One day while I was working, I had to move to a make-upy-time. up counter that wasn't my own to cover someone's lunch break. It was a really slow day, so I was just leaning on the counter, people watching. I could tell that most shoppers were just browsing, so I kept to myself. One of the people that I noticed was a very tall, broad man. He walked very slowly, almost hunched over. His face was fixed very aggressively, like he was angry, but focused. He circled around the counter a few times, but I could feel his gaze on me instead of the products. After a few rotations around the department, I decided to greet him in case he needed help. It wasn't until he directly came over to me that I realized how big he actually was.

Again, I'm a 4'10, 140-pound female, so I feel pretty small regardless. But even with his slouched posture, he was over six feet tall and well over twice my weight. I'll never forget his teeth. They were completely black in the front. Your eyes couldn't help, but go right to them. Despite his menacing appearance, he was soft-spoken. Truthfully, I could tell he wasn't all there by the way he talked. He told me no when I asked if he needed help, but requested my number, so direct.

We had never spoken before. I declined and said I was in a relationship and that it would be inappropriate. He then asked if he could have a business card for the counter in case he wanted to get products. Since I wasn't on my normal counter, and I really wanted him to go away, I handed him my co-worker's business card and told him to call if he had any questions. It worked, and he walked away after that, filling me with relief. Only a couple minutes later, the phone counter rings. I answer with my peppy customer service voice and say,

Thank you for calling. How can I help you? And immediately, I know it was the same guy when he starts talking. He asked me again for my personal number, and I explain once again I cannot do that, but he just wants to talk, he explains. Since he wasn't getting the hint, I say, I should have told you that I'm married. You can't have my number. Politely, he apologizes and hangs up. I thought that would be the end of him.

But for the next few weeks or so, I spent much of my time at work, anxious that he would show up. I would see him every week, and he would lurk around the counter looking for me. Anytime I would see him, I'd immediately drop what I was doing to run and hide, or run to the closest customer and offer any bit of assistance to make it look like I was busy, so he wouldn't talk to me. I successfully dodged him every time, and it came to the point where I stopped seeing him. I was thrilled.

I had almost completely forgotten about him, until one day I decided to go to Walmart by myself to pick up a few things on my day off. I generally like to shop alone. I can take all the time I need, and I like to leisurely look around. I grabbed a basket and made my way over to the cosmetic hair and wellness section, since that's where most of the things I needed were.

I only managed to grab a few things before I locked eyes with them as I walked by the supplement aisle. I recently changed my hair and wasn't wearing my work uniform, so I didn't think he'd recognize who I was. I was ready to just go about my shopping and ignore him, until I noticed that he had dropped all of his items he had in his hand and started heading my way. I panicked and picked up my pace immediately. I thought to myself, he's not going to really follow me through the store, right? But as I turned around to look, I could see his humongous body, just plowing through people with that same terrifying look on his face, only meaner, his black teeth growing closer with a snarl.

Since the direction I was walking was opposite of the exit, and there was no way I was going to turn around, I decided that my best course of action would be to follow the perimeter of the store and cut down the center section which would bring me close up to the registers. I speedwalk the entire time in hopes of losing him amongst the people, but never once turning around again. By the time I made it to the register area, I could actually feel him behind me, still not wanting to turn around to look. I glanced in the reflection of the soda machines that are in between the register aisles to see how close he was.

To my horror, there was only about one and a half to two feet between us. I was afraid to just drop my stuff and run to the door in case he followed me to my car. I parked in the far back of the parking lot, and I didn't want to risk it. I also didn't want to get in line at the registers, since the line. were long and I would just be standing there out in the open, alone. Instead, I walked into a cluster of people, crowded around the self-checkout line. I noticed another large but older gentleman with his cart in the middle and ran straight for him. The people were so closely clustered together that the man following me couldn't make it through.

I ran over to the man in line and grabbed on his cart. I said, I'm so sorry, I'm not cutting you, but there's a man that's been following me through half of the store, and I needed to stand with you. He was so sweet and let me be with him while we waited in line, and even let me go ahead of him so I could leave quicker. As I was cashing out, I could see in my peripheral vision my stalker was staring at me and pacing about, but he couldn't come near me since the self-checkout was somewhat sectioned off. By the time I finished and grabbed my receipt, I couldn't see him.

I looked around, but he was nowhere. I thought about asking the older man to walk me to my car, but he wasn't finished at his register. So I decided to call my boyfriend and make a run for it. Staying on the phone, I explained to him what was going on as I sprinted to my car in tears. Frantically looking around in case he tried to follow me outside, I made it to my car safely and rushed right home, breaking down to my parents about what just happened. I could feel it in my bones that this man wanted to do something to me, and thankfully I didn't find out what that was.

His aggressive aura was palpable. To this day, I can still remember the adrenaline, nervousness, the sheer terror I felt when he followed me. I had never felt so vulnerable and helpless, even with all of those people around. I quit my job roughly two years later. I had only seen him one other time there since the incident, but I live in constant fear that we will cross paths again. I'm afraid to shop alone, something that I wouldn't give a second thought to years before.

So to my stalker with black teeth, let's not meet again. I used to lead an outdoors club, and one of the trips I would always take people on was the Smoky Mountains in mid-October. The Smokies are beautiful, and we would do a four-night backpacking loop using the backcountry three-walled shelters along the Appalachian Trail. The weather was perfect, fall colors, cool nights, and the classic fog that gives the Smokies their name. It was the last night on the trail, and we were staying on top of Mount LeCont, one of the tallest mountains in the Smokies. I had reserved all of the spots in the shelter, about 12, and there were no other campsites on top of the mountain, so I knew we would be alone. Here's some background, bear with me. The top of Mount Lecont has a western lookout point and eastern lookout point,

and a half-mile trail called the Boulevard that connects the overlooks, and runs the ridge line of the mountain. The trail is covered by scraggly evergreens that cling to the top of the mountain, and there were thousand-foot drops along the trail edge. The shelter is about midpoint on the trail. All of my friends and I decided we would sleep under the stars next to the shelter, because the Milky Way was incredible. Then at 5 a.m., we were all going to walk with our sleeping bags to the eastern lookout point

to see the sunrise. But we stayed up late, and my friend and I decided that he and I would just go to the eastern lookout point at 3 a.m. and chat until the sun began to rise. It was a chilly night, about 27 degrees Fahrenheit, and the fog had rolled in. It pushed through the dense evergreens and limited our visibility to the bright white cones from our headlamps. My friend and I grabbed our bear spray in sleeping bags and started walking eastward on the boulevard. Once we started moving, I realized how bad the visibility was. The trail sneak through the foggy trees, and you could never see what was around the next bend.

There were reports of bears in the area, so I kept my bear spray out and made as much noise as I could. The fog rolled through the trees like a haunted house. As I turned the bend, I nearly ran into a man. He's standing alone in the middle of the trail, facing me, not moving, no flashlight at 3 a.m. in the wilderness, just standing in the darkness. I also realize that he's wearing a T-shirt and has only a small book bag. Keep in mind, it's about freezing. With my bearspray leveled, I stammer. Hello? No response.

I ask him where he's coming from and where he's going. I don't know. His facial expression looks lifeless. I asked him where he's planning on. sleeping tonight, given that he has no gear. I don't know. With you? Oh no. I could put it together pretty quick. This guy was definitely on a lot of drugs. He eventually admitted that he had walked from a town about 30 miles away, but he kept on saying that he wanted to stay with us at the shelter. Then he would speak some nonsense. Suddenly, he said, I'm being followed by a dog. I figured he's

just seeing things and ask what it looked like. It's big and black, and it has an orange collar. I realize that it's probably one of the tagged bears in the park. This sketchy guy is being stalked by a bear and leading it towards my friends who are sleeping in the shelter. I tell him I know of a spot he can stay, a luxurious cabin compound about 15 minutes down the mountain where they can call the NPS. I tell him to walk in front of me

and I start directing him on where to turn. I figure that if he tried something erratic, I could blind him with my light and follow up with bear spray. I eventually get down to this cabin and wake the employees to let them know he needs help. They tell me I can leave, so I head back to my friends and tell them what's going on. Before I go to sleep,

I jog back down to the Rangers to make sure everything is fine. We don't know where he went. He stepped out the door and now we can't find him. Creepy Man in the Fog. Let's not meet again. So just over 10 years ago, I was fresh out of college and moved back with my parents' house

for free rent and food for nine months or so before I was leaving out of the state for graduate. at school. Now my parents are super chill and gave me my own space in the house, but being a 22-year-old single guy living at a house in the sticks is certainly not ideal, but I didn't have any other options, so I started looking for some work, more so to pass the time than to save up money. Anyway, so summer turned into winter, and I still hadn't found anything solid. By then, I desperately needed to spend more time out of my parents' house, so I took a part-time gig doing some light bookkeeping for a small business owner guy that my dad knew.

I didn't really want to do it since it didn't pay much, was short term, and wasn't even a real office setup. But again, since my parents lived in the middle of nowhere Midwest, I knew I had limited local opportunities to make some cash, and this guy was going to pay me under the table as well. About the same time, a friend of mine in the city said that if I just paid him $200 a month and helped clean up, he'd basically let me crash in his living room until I was ready to move out of state.

That was all I needed to hear. I took the job. So my dad's friend's family had a construction-type business. They helped out with building stuff a little, but ultimately was more focused on renting out a few bobcats and large augurs they owned. Also, other various drills and then odds and ends like generators or other low-level construction or farming equipment

that someone in that area couldn't afford to purchase, but needed to use from time to time. This was a small mom-and-pop thing, where everyone knows everyone, and the office only opened up on the days that someone was coming by, and was just generally a mutual beneficial situation for the business owners and the locals. Since I had minored in a business-adjacent area, and my dad recommended me, they trusted me to go there for about 15 to 20 hours a week, and check and file the rental forms. Make sure nobody missed a payment date.

If there was a payment plan in place, answer an email or two discussing prices and availability, etc. super easy gig. The old building where I worked was about 90 years old and at the top of this little hill, and the downstairs used to be an old country bar until the 1970s, when this family bought it cheap, cleared out the bar and fenced in the property to use its parking lot area to store their rental equipment and gear. I could generally come and go as I pleased, work any hours I wanted as long as the work got done.

So if things were slow and there weren't any rentals for a couple days, I'd usually go in after 7 p.m. and stay until around midnight or 1 a.m. Since I knew I'd be alone and could listen to loud music and take my time and all that. The office where I worked was on the second floor of a building, above the old bar, and looked out into a long driveway. From my seat, I could easily see out the window, and once or twice saw a family of deer or raccoon's stamper by. And I always glanced out the window when I saw movement, since it was very noticeable.

It was incredibly remote, very still and quiet, it. So if something unusual occurred, or if something felt off, I definitely noticed it. One night during the winter, it had snowed a few inches, and my dad told me to stay in just in case the roads were bad. But I had an old SUV, and more than that, just really wanted to get out of the house. So I went to work about 8 p.m. and was going to stay until just after 1 a.m. I always left the gate open at the bottom of the hill, since believe me that when I say nobody ever showed up at night, since we were literally in the middle of nowhere. I think the nearest occupied house was about two miles down the road, and to even turn on to

our short road, you had to be coming to our specific building, and probably know it was there beforehand. It was a locals-only type thing and very small. Since the family inherited a lot of money and kind of did a rental thing on the side, basically someone would never just get lost and end up at our building. So I'm jamming to some music and having some coffee, and kept glancing at the snow outside here and there, since one of our streetlights reflected on to the ground at the gate and was causing the light to shine off of the snow in a really cool way. At one point around midnight, I went downstairs to the big bathroom to do my bathroom business, and then came back upstairs to get settled back into my work. I probably did about five minutes of

work when I glanced outside and saw a huge imprint of something fresh in the snow, just below the light. It seemed like it must have been a huge dog or substantial animal had just rolled around in the ground on its back or something, since I didn't notice it. it just 15 minutes before, it had to have happened while I was in the bathroom, or maybe when I had my back turned, since I would have seen that type of movement for sure. I shook it off and assumed a dog, or maybe even a farm animal, had gotten loose, and maybe was attracted to the light or something. Who knows? Around two in the morning, I was leaving, and to be honest, I had pretty much forgotten all about the imprint in the snow. But when I looked down, I was shocked to see that

it wasn't just some disturbed snow. It was undeniably an imprint of a human, If you don't know what a snow angel is, it's when kids lie on their backs in the snow and push their arms and legs back and forth, so when they get up, it looks like an outline of an angel. I used to do this when I was a kid, so I 100% knew for sure that that's what it was, and it was deliberately made underneath the light post. But it wasn't from a kid. It was from a very large person, or at least a normal sized adult wearing tons of layers

of big winter clothing. I looked up and saw what I had already knew, that whoever made this snow angel could easily look up and seen me through the window, so they must have waited for me to head downstairs to make this snow angel. Now I definitely would have seen or heard someone drive up to our building, even if I was in the bathroom, so I knew someone would have had to walk into the deep freezing snow and cold for a few miles. Stop in front of our building, and then do the snow angel in the small amount of time I wasn't sitting at the front of my desk window. I glanced around for tracks in the snow and saw that there was one set that led to the

nearby woods to the right of the building, so it was clear that the person didn't use the road, but instead came from the opposite side, which made me instantly uneasy. Since that side was just trees and darkness for miles and miles, I was definitely a little freaked out now, once I realized that someone had just been this close to me secretly in the middle of the woods, and I looked around, but I didn't see anything amiss at all, and now just wanted to get out of there. When I got back to my car and drove a few feet. I realized that my boss would be there in like four hours and might see the snow angel and assume that I did it, since he probably assumed that I kept the gate locked when I was there. It wouldn't have been that big of deal at all, but I was young

and felt like I might be made fun of by him, if nothing else. So I opened the gate back up real quick, ran over and kicked the snow around a bit to hide the angel, locked it up again and went back to my car. Also, I should note that this is what really happened at this moment, but I almost lied here and said something else since it seems fake, since I assume the average person wouldn't get back out of their SUV and not just fleeing their car because they'd been embarrassed about the Snow Angel. But at that time, I was insecure and cared a lot about what others thought, so unfortunately this is what I did. Also, I wasn't exactly fully terrified at this point, even though it was certainly unsettling. I just thought it was really weird and could have been an

illegal hunter, even though hunting at night in the cold didn't make much sense. Either way, the imprints were made two hours earlier, and I assume they were long gone. But that's when I heard it. When I was getting into my SUV, there was the loudest high-pitched laughing coming from the woods. It almost sounded like a fake laugh, like the witch and Wizard of Oz or something. Like someone was doing it fake on purpose to show they weren't scared of me, or how I'd react at all, once I knew they were laughing at me on our property. It was close enough that I knew that I knew they probably could see me, but I couldn't see them at all, since other than the street light I was under, there was no illumination. After a few seconds of laughing, they stopped,

and then it was just silence everywhere, except for my heart beating through my ears. Then the laughing started again, though louder this time. More like screaming and laughing combined. I sort of froze for like five seconds, listening in panic. Now, I spent a lot of time in that area, and I know what coyotes and foxes sound like at night with their high-pitched screeches, so I can't completely logistically rule that out. But to me, it honestly felt like an adult man trying to emulate a woman laughing, like someone was deliberately trying to make a fake, scary shriek laugh in order to scare someone. Well, it worked.

After that five seconds, I was immediately filled with adrenaline, got in my car and drove away from there as fast as I could, without sliding off the road. Back home, I was up all night. night trying to figure it out and told my parents the story when they woke up. After talking about it, we all decided it was one of two things. It was either my brain somehow convinced itself that the snow formation was angel-shaped, when it was really just caused by some animal. And then the snow tracks and laughing was just a coyote or a red fox, though I don't think that's what it was.

What I truly believe, the second thing, which is some local was out walking around for some reason and decided to mess with me. I didn't have any close friends left in that area that would do this. And if they did, they would certainly have brought it up to make fun of me for speeding away in terror. I found out later that the nearest house was a super old couple, so I doubt it was one of them. Which means whoever it was went out into the woods in the night, in the freezing cold, just to mess with a stranger. I don't have any mental issues or any family history of them. I didn't do drugs.

I drank socially at the time, but certainly did it. that night. I also don't believe in the paranormal, so I never once gave that a thought. In my heart, I know someone was out there. I worked there another six weeks or so, and never had a single issue, though I knew where my boss kept his gun, and I always made sure it was there when I started my shift, and I certainly always locked the gate from then on. Thinking about this experience that night, the part that freaked me out the most was that he had to have waited around for me to leave for around two hours just to do that laugh. He didn't know me. I could have been crazy and the type of person to get mad and try to find and attack him, yet he didn't seem scared or to care while he tried to mess

with me. For some random dude, this is probably a story he tells from his point of view to make all of his friends giggle hysterically. But for me, that dude, the one I call Angel and the Snow Guy, the one whose laugh I'll never forget. Let's not meet. It's been six days in my world. has changed entirely. I guess anything can be possible now. Like if I saw a unicorn fighting a werewolf tomorrow, I wouldn't be shocked after everything came to head six days ago. I'm 17 years old and it's summer vacation. I won't say where I live, but it's in the north of the U.S. I have a sister who's 15. We're very close. We live a bit off the beaten path. Town and school are a good 20-minute drive from where we live in the woods. We have no neighbors out here. We never

thought anything of it until recent years when we'd want to hang out with our friends, but town is so far off. I guess that's why we're so close. We've always been kind of isolated from other kids, but we grew up in this old house with our mom and dad, so we never knew any other way. Our family is, was, our family was pretty solid and stable. The only thing that ever caused any issue was my mom. My mother had schizophrenia. This usually wasn't an issue because she took her meds, but every few years, she'd skip a dose or just stop taking them. She would get weird, mean, paranoid, delusional, and scared, more than anything. Since my dad owned a business, he was at work. As my sister and I were left with an authority figure whose perception was way off, she would just arbitrate

rules and punishments for us, based on events that she believed to happen. During one bad event, I feel like I was grounded for a year for doing things I'd never done. It would go on like that until she got bad enough that the police had to be involved, usually because she'd run away, get lost in the woods, and she'd be involuntarily committed, stabilized, and come back as our kind, wonderful mom again. Anyway, my sister and I were enjoying our summer break, staying up late, goofing off in the woods, and something new. I could drive now, and I'd saved up money, and my dad helped me buy a cheap used car. It was 13 years old, but it was in good shape. It had been owned by an elderly couple who didn't use it much. So, my sister and I had the freedom to independently

drive into town, go to the mall, meet up with friends. I'm sad to say, what started as the best summer ever, looks like it stopped abruptly as it started, and there's no going back. My sister and I decided one afternoon to meet some of our friends from school in town for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon at the lake. Mom had been acting a little strange, and we'd wondered if she stopped taking her meds. She just seemed a little bit of more scared than usual, which is generally the start, but none of us wanted to hurt her feelings by asking just yet. She told us to be home by dark, and we were. I guess dad was working late, because he wasn't home. Mom's SUV was in the driveway, but all the lights were off in the house.

When we went inside, my sister announced, hey mom, we're home, but mom wasn't there. We looked in our parents' room, our rooms, then the rest of the house. We started to look in the yard, and we heard her voice further out in the woods, but we couldn't make out what she was saying. We didn't stop to think. My sister turned the flashlight on her phone on, and we started out into the woods. This was our mother. If she was lost out there, she could get hurt, and there was the concern because of her frightened behavior and her mental health history. We walked quickly for about 15 minutes into the woods,

and we realized we were going further in a direction we'd never been. All of it was unfamiliar. Outside of the little trails and familiarity of what was nearby, our home was nestled between a human street and wilderness, what my dad called the deep woods. While he was leery of us getting too far into the deep woods in general, he specifically forbade us to never be caught out there after the sun was down. We were both realizing this when we heard what sounded like our mother's scream and animal growls.

We didn't say a word but blindly rushed through the trees, dodging twisted roots, and thorny vines in the direction of the noises. We came to a stop in a little clearing. The trees were thick on all sides. The sky was visible but dark. No bright moon out to illuminate. We heard rustling in the nearby brush, and my sister wheeled around with her flashlight,

looking for the source. We saw branches of trees and bushes quivering, as if we were surrounded, but we saw nothing. We heard our mom's voice again, which was disturbing. Her tone was conversational, and we could hear

hear it well enough. But the words or sounds didn't make much sense. Then it stopped. Everything went silent. Everything stopped moving. That's when the smell hit us, the scent of decay. Something had crawled somewhere to die and be discovered days later by the scent. What is that smell? I asked my sister in a whisper. She was about to respond, but my scream cut her off. While she was looking at me, something stumbled into the beam of her light. Something with red, reflect. eyes and she totally went still and silent. I did too, as we tried to make out what this thing was in front of us. It looked like a buck, standing on its hind legs, but it was all wrong. It stood about eight feet tall, and the more we looked at it, the more wrong it was. Its head was

in profile now. The red eyes had been replaced by black empty sockets, and I realized its head was a skull with bits of flesh and fur barely hanging on. It looked more like a canine skull. Its jaws seemed to turn up in a sinister grin. From its torso, it had two arms, ending in almost human hands, but with deadly claws. Instead of hooves of a deer, its legs looked more like those of a bear. It was covered in blood, and here and there the flesh was gone, and the skeleton was visible beneath. It turned back to face us, defying everything natural, as its head turned. The face and the rest of the creature went black, like a shadow.

In spite of the light shining on it, it looked like a silhouette, and then some red eyes opened, and we could see the yellow fangs grinning, like a man's face. It looked like it was laughing, but then it began screaming. It was somewhere between a human and an animal's cry. The antlers had begun to change, wriggling like snakes. Then the thing took a jerky step toward us. Then another. Then another.

As this thing started running on its hind legs, our fear paralysis broke. and my sister and I both broke into a run. She was ahead of me with a flashlight. I was behind her, and I'll admit, I had tears streaming down my face in pure terror. Even though we have never been that far out, we seemed to be heading in the right direction. We could see the lights from the house.

Had we left that many lights on? Dad must be home. I didn't look back, for fear that thing would be there, and pounce, or whatever it would do. Then I heard my mom's voice. Pst. That made me stop. I turned to look.

My sister ran a bit more, then realized I'd stopped. Come on! Are you crazy? Let's go! But I had heard my mom. I swore I could see her, through the darkness, peeking out from behind a tree, beckoning me to come back.

And I almost did. My sister grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the trail, and we didn't stop running until we were at the front door, which was open. We hadn't left the front door open, so this was strange. We took a minute to investigate. My dad's truck was in the driveway, but not parked like he normally does.

The doors of the truck were open. As we walked into the house, we saw dark tracks leading in on the hardwood, like those of a dog, or in some places, a bear. These tracks looked like mud, but became bloody. We followed them through the living room to the kitchen. We swung open the door to find our mom, pushing a mop, decidedly cleaning up the mess. We were so relieved. I think I approached her to give her a hug, but my sister grabbed my hand and stopped me.

She wasn't mopping right away. I don't know how to describe it. She was just kind of raking the mop back and forth in a jerky motion, and the mop bucket wasn't out. So she was just using a wet mop to move dirty water back and forth across the floor. She actually wasn't standing the right way either. Her head was facing down, but rolled off awkwardly to one side. Her legs positioned in odd angles where she stood.

She stood up at us for a minute. I almost screamed again. Her eyes were hollow, and her mouth was full of crooked fangs that didn't fit in her mouth. But I blinked, and she looked normal, except the face. I don't know how to describe it. Her eyes didn't shine like they normally did, and in spite of a definite grin, her face seemed flat. Hi guys, how was your day? She asked, pronouncing some word strangely, in a bit of a staccato. Good, where's dad? My sister asked. Dad is gone, she said, cryptically, although a bit more natural. He's been having an affair.

He decided to leave us, with no emotion in her voice. Normally, this would be a huge shock, but I think we were both so overwhelmed with fright, as it was. We just left the kitchen, without a word, walk straight upstairs to my room and lock the door.

We just sat in silence for a while. Then my sister asked, What do we do? I don't know. That isn't mom. That's the thing from the woods. The walking deer thing. What are you talking about?

Apparently, my sister had seen a wolf, the size of a horse, but where the tail end should be was another wolf. She said she saw it go all shadowy and transform into a giant figure with human-like features and the writhing antlers too, before it began to chase us. Skinwalker, my sister said. I felt like this quickened some memories in me. We had always been fond of spooky stories and supernatural sort of things.

From what I remembered, a Skinwalker was a southwestern story, a Navajo witch who can change shape to do wicked things, like the Navajo version of a werewolf. I mean, after what I've seen now, I certainly don't doubt this. We were in the north, though. The native legends and lore surrounding us spoke about a creature or God called the Wendigo. I couldn't remember the term at the time, so I think I called it the dead god. I was trying to remember there was different tales about the Wendigo, most often a giant emaciated corpse with antlers and fangs.

Like a Frankenstein monster made of animals. Some stories say the Wendigo was cursed for committing cannibalism and transformed into a flesh-eating monster. While another story, a friend of mine, whose culture takes these things seriously told me in a hush tone that the Wendigo was the God of the Deep War, and the god of death. Its spiritual touch could turn men into cannibals and would raise the dead, making host bodies of animal carcasses, but possessed human bodies when it could, to spread its

influence. After I explained this, I think we both silently accepted this as a possibility. What if mom wasn't sick all these years? What if it was the Wendigo's influence over her, trying to get to the only human family in the area? We didn't have a lot of time with our thoughts because there were crashing sounds from the kitchen, pots and pans, dishes breaking, and an instant later, a pounding at the door. It's like this thing knew our thoughts, and it knew we weren't fooled that it was in mom's body. Our little mom, who was about five feet tall and 115 pounds with blonde-like hair and big blue eyes. She always looked so sweet, like a doll. It was unsettling to think that something so sinister might have gotten to her,

and maybe dad, too. Where was he? The pounding on the door stopped. The imitation of our mother's voice was more convincing now, as if by me thinking of her gave the thing more knowledge. Hey guys, open up. I want to talk about Dad. Clearly, this is traumatic. She sounded so kind and so sympathetic.

My sister is a tough girl, though. She screamed, stay away from us. Silence. Then a growl. Then the pounding on the door resumed. It was so forceful, though. the door was going to break for sure. Before we knew what to do,

a bone-white antler stabbed right through the door, showering splinters and creating several large holes. Through the cracks, I saw a brief, broken vision of a buck's head and a wolf's jaws, covered in rotten flesh, but through another, it appeared to be totally skeletal. It laughed, or made a noise, like a deep, creepy laughter.

That's when we jumped off my bed. It started ramming its antlers into the door, breaking in, but we were already out the window, climbing down the lattice that my mom grew Jasmine on. We heard the thing break through the door. Looking up, I saw its enormous, terrifying silhouette with huge antlers. The hole totally obscured and black, except its glowing red eyes. I had my car key still in my pocket. We jumped in my car, and I started her up, and began speeding out in such a hurry. My sister had to cry out. Turn the lights on. I did, but wish I hadn't. This was taking place over seconds.

We had just seen the thing upstairs, and I had to slam on my brakes as my mom, or whatever was in my mother, came limping out in front of the car. It was literally dragging its feet behind it. It didn't know how to use the body properly. Then it stopped. Blank face.

Empty holes for eyes. It raised my mother's hands, trying to signal us to stop. My sister urged me on. What are you waiting for? That's still mom. No, it isn't. Either get around it or run it down.

I wasn't sure how I felt about any of that, until what I saw. In the headlights now, I could better see Dad's truck. Hanging out of the open front door was what was left of my father. Covered in blood and his tattered work clothes. His forearms and hands were intact, but that's all I could see. I was filled with immediate sorrow and fear. Then, a blind rage took over, and I screamed. I slammed my foot against the gas and plowed into the shape of my mother.

It flopped like a rag doll over the hood, then clung to the windshield. It looked at us with red, glowing eyes for a moment. Then the eyes went dark. As her back split open, a dark shadowy figure jumped out, vanishing into the woods in a single leap. Then the body went flat. Like a popped balloon or an empty snake skin, it seemed to just blow away too. We drove to the police station in town.

Neither of us spoke the way there. My sister hasn't spoken since, or so I'm told. She's in the mental health ward of the hospital. They've asked me vague questions and treated me physically. I'm fine. But from what I understand, there's a lengthy investigation going on. I guess the house and some of the woods caught fire from a flash lightning storm, sometime after we left.

I'm just now able to access a computer, so I thought I'd write this all down and try to get it out there before the doctors and the police start making me answer questions and try to lock me up too. My whole life that I've known is gone. Nothing will ever be the same. I just want people to know what really happened before they say I've lost my mind. If anyone can offer help or advice, I don't know if I'll get it in time.

But please, help me. I live in a partially suburban area in Ohio. There is a small wooded area with a creek next to my family's property. I'm 16 years old, and sometimes I like to go down there and catch things like crayfish and minnows. I have a room in the upstairs of my house, but it gets really hot in the summer, and I do not have air conditioning, so I instead sleep in the basement, which is a lot cooler. There is also a PS4 down there, so I can stay up late watching movies and playing games. In the basement, there was a very large window, and it is right next to the couch where I sleep.

It all started one night, when I heard strange howls that sounded a lot closer to my house than usual. At first, it didn't scare me, because I often hear coyotes howling at the same. night and I just figured that there was one a little closer to my house than usual, big deal. However, there was something off-putting about each howl. First of all, it didn't sound like a coyote, which have very high-pitched howls, and usually there are multiple coyotes howling at the same time. The howl that I was hearing was very low-pitched and went on for probably about 15 seconds at a time. I still brushed it off and I figured it was a large coyote that was maybe lonely. These howls went on for a few more nights, and one

One thing that confused me is that I stopped hearing the occasional regular coyote howl. Instead, every night there was just this howl. Remember, I had mentioned that this howl sounded closer to my house than normal, but that wasn't always the case. In fact, the howl seemed to change in volume every few minutes, like the coyote was moving while it howled. I did not see how it was possible, but the coyote was either moving at an impossible speed, howling at different points in the forest, or maybe there were multiple.

howl didn't even sound like a coyote to begin with, so I just assumed that maybe an odd family of coyotes moved into the forest and scared all of the regular ones away. Some nights, the howl sounded close to my house, and then in the next minute it sounded far away. This made me feel a little bit uneasy, but I just ignored it. So, I woke up in the morning and did my usual routine of feeding my chickens, practicing driving, and going for a swim in my pond. Then, once night came, I went down into the basement to watch Thor Ragnarok. Then, right about the time when Thor was fighting the Hulk in the arena, I heard one light tap on my window. This instantly broke me out of my investment into the movie and made my heart jump into my throat. I have

always been a paranoid person. At first, I just laid there, not able to move, and then once it had been a while, I relaxed and decided it was probably just a bird or something. But then, abruptly, I heard another tap at the window, and at this point, I had reasoned that it was a bird, so I didn't feel scared of moving the curtains to see if there was a bird sitting there, stunned. When I opened the curtains, I immediately wished I had been more paranoid. What I saw was not a bird. It was a face. A terrifying, disfigured human face. I only looked at it for about two seconds before I ran upstairs to wake my parents, but I will try to describe it the best I can. Its face was longer than any person's face I had.

had ever seen. It had no lips, and its teeth were yellow and so pointy. It looked like someone took sandpaper and did their best to carve spear points for their teeth. Its nose was gone and had no eyes, only sockets filled with blackness. And the most disturbing part was that the whole face looked like it was decaying. When I woke my parents, my dad agreed to come with me down to the basement to see what was there. But when he went down there, the creature was gone. Needless to say, my dad didn't believe me and just said that if I was scared, I can just go upstairs to my room to sleep. That is exactly what I did. I didn't care if my room was hot. I just wanted to feel safe. So I went into my room. I locked all my windows and locked the door. Then I went on to the

internet to see if anyone else had any encounters like this. It turns out that what I think I saw was something called a Skinwalker, and it started to make sense since Skinwalkers can shape shift and turn into animals they kill. That would explain why the face looked like it was decaying, but then it hit me. This skinwalker had the decaying face of a human on it. I have never seen the creature again, and I hope I never do,

but it still terrifies me to this day. Why was this skinwalker at my window? And who did it kill to get that face? Today is the anniversary of me destroying my lower back. I am not paralyzed or anything, but I've got two herniated lumbar discs and a compressed sciatic nerve. I know that today it's not a big deal to have surgery and fix the bulging discs,

but due to an unfortunate family history with the medical practice, I'm not entirely trusting of doctors. Usually, one wouldn't bother remembering the exact date of an accident that didn't cripple them after a few months, but I remember. I feel like I have to remember that day. I injured myself taking a nasty fall, traveling in the Judean mountains,

close to Comran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. One moment, I was standing on a hilltop, and the next I found myself tumbling down into a cavern. The fall didn't feel serious. I say that it hadn't felt serious because I landed on my backpack, and the impact mostly sent waves of adrenaline through my body. Now, I obviously know better. I fell about 10 feet down. The surrounding space was spinning for a few moments, and could hear my pounding heart in my ears. I looked around frantically.

I didn't feel any pain at that moment, so my biggest concern was being turned to be. trapped in some cavern with no way out. Just as I was beginning to panic, I noticed a stream of light coming into the subterranean cavity I landed into. I collected myself and got back up on my feet. Walking around the cavern for a bit, I made sure that the source of light was indeed an exit, which it was. Feeling adventurous for a lone traveler who could have died mere minutes ago, I opted to

go look around the cave for a bit. I guess the adrenaline rush hadn't worn off by that point yet. Anyway, I pulled my flashlight and started walking into the depths of the cave. For about a half an hour, I couldn't find anything other than an endless maze of cave formations, sprawling seemingly into infinity. The various spiky mineral deposits forming the floor in the roof of the cave gave an appearance of some ominous, colossal aliens maw. It was almost mesmerizing to look at.

Endless stony tendrils sticking out in all directions for what seemed like miles upon miles. I heard someone call out from the depth of the cave, just as I was a woman. was about to make my way out. A man's voice boomed from the deeper parts of the cave. It sounded almost worried. Who's there? The sudden vocalization made me shudder and surprise, and I turned around calling back. Hey, is anyone there? Hey, the voice trailed off. I thought someone was deeper in the cave. In my mind, it could have been someone who got lost or a patrolling ranger. Help me. The voice called out again, seemingly closer to me. My heart raced, and I was sure it was someone who needed help.

I took a deep breath and started pacing hastily towards the source of the sound. As I walked out, I called out. Hey, are you all right? Do you need help? Who are you? The voice called out again, seemingly closer to me. I was cut off. Stop right there.

Who is that? The voice called out. Something about it sounded odd. My instincts were practically screaming at me to take my feet and turn around and run for it as fast as I could. Instead of listening to my gut, I just stood still and started explaining who I was and what I was doing in this cavity. No response came. Thinking whoever it was might be too hurt to keep on responding. I decided to run towards the location from which I heard the sound.

What are you? That question was screeched at me from a close distance. My heart sunk as I was beginning to realize that I was in a bad situation. I sheepishly called out. Hello? As I carefully shined around my flashlight. I just want to help you. I had called out again before I heard the sound of an animal claw scraping against the rocks.

It came from above. I didn't want to look up. I knew I should have just blasted my way out of there and never looked back. But I didn't. I didn't do that because I felt something dripping on my head. Help me. Something said close to my ears. That's when I was.

I looked up. As the light hit the cave ceiling, I nearly had a heart attack, not to mention that I cursed under my breath. Above me, clinging to the ceiling like a lizard was some sort of emaciated, sickly yellow thing. It looked human-like, but it was so skinny and freakishly long. As I stood there, frozen with fear, slowly building up in every fiber of my being, that thing, it screamed at me, revealing its rancid, serrated, yellow rows of teeth. Time seemed to slow down at that moment. The same moment I had noticed that this thing had no eyes at all. There was just terribly stretched, sickly skin over most of its head. Without even consciously deciding to run, I felt my legs move on their own.

I managed to move a few meters away from that thing before it jumped into the air, disgustingly twisting its body in the air, landing on its all four limbs. It charged straight at me, managing to grab a hold of my backpack. This thing tore it straight from my shoulders. I felt a tug and a lot of weight taken off my back. I just ran as fast as I could, assuming this thing was occupied with my backpack. Moments later, I heard the noise of scraping claws on the rocky surface again, followed by more calls for help.

They were getting louder and louder with each passing moment. I ran and ran, without looking back, the cave seemed to go on forever. Eventually I could see the penetrating light of the sun. The exit was in sight. As I was about to escape from the cave, I heard the creature call out to me. My heart sank. It uttered the opening words of a prayer. I was inches away from the exit of the cave,

and a surge of a sharp pain shot through my spine, starting at the center of my lower back and traveling all the way along my right leg. It was so bad I just froze, and that monster slammed me to the ground. It growled at me, scraping its bony forelimbs at my body. The weight of this thing sent further waves of agony along my lower back and leg.

The pain was unbearable, but I knew I had to keep trying to escape from this thing. I twisted and turned my body underneath that thing and it bit my shoulder. I felt liquid running down along my arm. My heart was racing at this point and something snapped in me. I started banging my fists on this thing. I don't know what I hit. I couldn't tell.

All I could feel was its leathery skin. It let go of me for a moment and I turned my back, forcing myself to kick the thing that was now looming over me. It barely budged backwards. It just screeched while displaying itself like some sort of bird. As if to tell me I have no way to be. to survive this encounter. Whatever this thing was, its neck was completely twisted on itself. It looked like it had been snapped backwards. I kept on kicking at the abomination, while slowly

crawling towards the exit. I have no idea why I did that. I just wanted to create some space between it and me. I felt something stabbed me in the hip, sending another gut-wrenching wave of needles down my leg. I turned to my side, and as I did, I felt my hand land on a rock. Instinctively, I tossed it at the monster, and it retorted by pouncing at me, but I managed to roll out of its way, and it landed in the light. It screeched and howled before bouncing on one of the cave walls again and scurried away into the darkness. While it let out some curse words I uttered when I first saw it, a mixture of fear and confusion took over my senses as chills ran down my whole body at once. I heard the thing mimic my speech, almost even mimicking my voice. My heart was about to burst

out at that moment, and I forced myself to limp out of the cavern. I was lucky enough to encounter a couple of patrolling rangers. I told them I had fallen and gotten hurt as a result. At the moment, I didn't think telling anyone about the creature was a good idea. Legend states that King Solomon banished all of the demons and evil spirits from the land of Israel. Knowing what I know now, I can wholeheartedly say Solomon was certainly not very good at banishing demons. I must tell this story before they find me. I'm writing this on a library computer, on an account I made to tell the story. For this story to make sense, there are three things about me to keep in mind.

I'm a female. I've lived in Tucson, Arizona, my entire life, and I speak fluent Spanish. Back in 2016, I lived in a small apartment near 12th in Valencia, the same main street as the airport. If you go several miles down Valencia, you can visit the Suaro National Park, though the street more or less becomes off-road past Wilmot. It's basically a straight line. My boyfriend I lived within the apartment knew this, and thought we should spend a day out there.

We took his old truck out there. I'm not experienced on automobiles in any form. All I know is that it was a Chevy, and my boyfriend, we'll call Adrian, would often talk about the lift kid he put on it, so that it was raised even higher off the ground. If I asked him, he could probably give a lot more details on that truck, but that's not important to the story.

All that really needs to be known is that it's great for off-roading, and we often went up on the mountains together in it. It was a cloudy day in November. I'd say it was probably 80 or so degrees out. When we went to spend the day at the National Park, we'd been planning it for ages, and I was really excited for this, but that was all going to change.

I remember this, since it's been haunting me for nearly three years. We had spent the majority of the day hiking, and smoking weed in an assortment of, of different locations, just enjoying the cacti and the snacks we brought along. It was starting to get late. It was getting on to be winter, so it was dark around 5 p.m. And yet we weren't back in the truck until about 8 p.m. The truck was off with the windows open.

Before I could speak, he put his hand over my mouth and held up a single finger. Having been sitting in the dark for hours, my eyes were well adjusted. And the glow he pointed out to me in the distance took all of my attention. What appeared to be some sort of firelight was about a hundred. hundred or so meters in front of us. But behind us was the sound of movement. It was like a group of animals thrashing about. Adrian turned on the truck, keeping the headlights off to roll up the windows, before promptly turning it back off. I was so out of it at the time I wasn't sure what was really happening. All I was sure of was that he needed me to keep quiet and remain alert.

When the thrashing sound came closer, it was apparent that it was stomping and chanting. They were clapping and chanting about Santa Morte. Now Adrian doesn't speak Spanish, though he's full Mexican. He just never learned, so I ended up whispering the translation to him. It was like one of those prayers on the candles you can buy. It spoke about asking the holy death for a blessing, but I don't remember what they wanted very clearly. What I do remember was the slam of a hand on the hood of the truck and the wild eyes of a boy. He looked to be somewhere between the ages of 18 and 20, not very old, but not a young teen. He had paint around his dark eyes, and it haunts me in my dreams.

To the best of my knowledge, this boy was all who knew of us at the moment. Adrian swore, but he didn't move. Instead, he just watched the boy, and I watched him. Adrian has always been the type of guy who's confrontational, and he's always been insistent on solving any issues we face. And being someone who hates confrontation, I was rather reliant on him to face the issues for me. The boy yelled for others to surround the truck in Spanish. In the moment, something in me snapped, and keeping my eyes trained on the mirror on the passenger side. I told him to reverse, darting my eyes back and forth between the boy and the figures

coming out from the cacti, as Adrian reversed and turned in a huge jerky motion, before hitting uneven road. We were originally just parked at the side of the road. The feeling of being watched, hunted even, compelled me to tell him to head downtown, where we ended up spending a few hours at the shot in the dark, a cafe that's long since closed. For two months following that night, I had gradually got my... more and more paranoid about it. And although Adrian tried to convince me that I was overreacting, and there were no chance that we'd ever encounter them again, I just couldn't believe him,

despite how desperately I wanted to. It was when we were nearing three months since that night, when the previously fixed hand dent was back, and heavily multiplied. It was like dozens of hands tried to peel the metal back to get in. I haven't had any other events since Adrian had his truck fixed and sold. But recently, he bought a similar one. and the paranoia has been seeping back into my bones. When I'm not at work, I don't leave my house unless I'm going to be indoors, because I can't risk the thought of them finding me again. The thought of them finding me vulnerable, alone or not, it leaves me shaken.

I can't remember what they wanted, but I remember the way he smiled when he mentioned wanting to get into the truck and to have us surrounded, and I would rather I never found out what he planned that night. In July of 2016, I went with three of my roommates on a camping trip in New Mexico. We decided to hike into the Pecos Wilderness because of the beautiful pictures of the lakes and trails on the preserve. I don't know if camping on the preserve is actually allowed, but we were carefree and didn't check to see if we could. We hiked until we reached one of the lakes. By that time, it was dusk, and we were starving and tired.

We decided to set up our tents about half a mile from the lake. We brought hot dogs and beans to cook on the fire. Classic camping cuisine. We split up to get stuff for the fire, dead branches, twigs, and stones. While getting firewood, I noticed a lot of coyotes scat in the area. I made a mental note to keep my pocket knife close, even though coyotes aren't a huge threat. When I came back, I told my friends, but like me, they didn't think much of it. After dinner, we sat talking about things that went on that year. It soon became pitch black, and the only light came from the fire and a couple of electronic lanterns we brought. My roommates went to bed one by one, until, like in normal horror story fashion, I was alone. I sat stoking the fire, making sure it was a controlled burn, before I could brush my teeth and change into sleeping clothes. I walked a half a mile back to the lake with one of the lanterns and used the lake water to brush my teeth and wash my face.

While washing my face, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I got the feeling of being watched. I'm crouched at the edge of the lake, realizing how vulnerable I am, only a pocket knife to defend myself. There could be a deranged camper out there. I stand up, hand in my pocket on my knife, when I hear coyotes howling. I relax, thinking that it may have just been coyotes watching me, so I walk back to the campsite. I make it back and go into my tent to get sleeping clothes out. of my backpack. I'm about to start changing when I hear twigs break. I just thought one of my roommates came back out of their tent to go take a leak. I stuck my head out of the tent

when I saw a coyote near the campfire. I froze trying to take in what's happening. It looked like a coyote, except for a few characteristics. Its eyes were really bright yellow. It looked taller than a normal coyote would be and it was crouching near the fire, crouching on its hind legs. I'm frozen, being stared down by the coyote when one of the of the roommates tries to get out of the tent. He sticks a foot and head out before he sees it. He stares and yells, what is that? The coyote runs at a breakneck speed into the darkness, but not normally. On its hind legs, my roommate continues to yell and wakes up the others. They asked what happened and we explained to them what we saw. They thought we were trying to fool them

and didn't believe a word we said. The roommate and I decided to sleep in the same tent since I was the only one who brought a knife along. We laid there, cramped in the tent. We laid there, cramped in the tent, too terrified to sleep when we heard noises. Twigs were snapping around our campsite, as if it was circling around us. We stayed motionless in the tent, not daring to see the time go by on our phones. Eventually, daylight came, and the noises grew further away. Our two roommates didn't hear the noises, and had to force us out of the tent in order to leave. We walked miles back to where we parked our car and decided that we should get a motel and spend the night in Santa When we get to our room, I immediately Google the events of what happened the previous night and learned of the Navajo legend.

When you go camping, make sure you have something to protect yourself, and a way to get out of there at an instant. Nothing about my life is exactly what you would call extraordinary. I'm a 25-year-old male who's been cut out of work for about a month now, and single for longer than I can share. Seeing how I live alone in an almost empty apartment complex in the middle of West Virginia, there was a little of West Virginia, there was a single for a month. Virginia, there wasn't much entertainment to be found. I picked up my smoking habit out of boredom more than anything. This means I had to make routine trips outside, a new activity for me. Sadly, my overpriced apartment lacks a back porch or patio to go out and smoke on.

However, there is a rarely used park between both apartment buildings with a few wooden benches amongst weathered swings and play sets. The whole apartment complex is surrounded by practically nothing, other than miles of dense forest and a highway that's a bit off the beaten path, so it's quite a secluded spot. At first, it was pretty relaxing just to sit outside unoccupied, allowing my worries to wander with each drag off my cigarette. However, it only took a few nights before I started to feel uneasy whenever I went outside. Almost as soon as I would step out of my apartment, I would get an overwhelming feeling of being watched, as if a pair of eyes were constantly following me.

Although, as soon as I looked towards the thicket of the woods behind me, the feeling would instantly disappear. At first, I shook it off as either being too paranoid, or that perhaps a noisy neighbor was simply spying on me. However, I would soon come to learn that neither of those guesses were correct. I quickly decided that the uncomfortable feeling of being watched wasn't worth the trip outside, so I began to drive around and smoke whenever I got a craving for a cigarette. I smoked nearly half a pack before realizing how long I had been gone just driving. I was driving around, so I began to make my way back to my apartment. I wondered if perhaps my suspicions was also afraid of whatever was lurking in the woods behind my apartment.

I arrived back to my place around sunset. The moon and the sun, both hung ominously overhead, cradled by swirling amber skies. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that the door on the second floor of my building had been left open. This seemed odd to me, as I hardly ever see signs of life aside from the empty pizza box as left outside of the other apartments. and the occasional muffled, yet still loud arguing of the couple that lived below me. It wasn't until I got closer that I realized it was actually the front door of my apartment, wide open. Not wanting to investigate in the dark that the encroaching nighttime would bring with it, I crept up my apartment, afraid of what I might find inside.

Even though I tried to walk as quietly and carefully as possible, each step boomed and reverberated through the concrete structure. I stopped in my tracks once I reached the top of the stairs. There were large, muddy hoof prints leading into my apartment, but none leading out. Whoever, or whatever had broken in, was still there. Feeling a newfound sense of bravery, I began to creep closer in my apartment. When I suddenly heard a floorboard right next to my door creak, I immediately turned around and booked it down the stairs and back into my car without looking back.

Once I got in my car, I locked all the doors before throwing a glance back at my apartment. The first thing my eyes landed on was a leathery, black-clot hand, wrapped around the doorframe. Right above it was a single piercing yellow eye, glaring right at me before quickly retracting itself back into my apartment, slamming the door shut. Regardless of how terrified I was, I couldn't look away from the spot where that person or thing was just seconds before. I was paralyzed in fear for a few moments before eventually snapped myself out of it and searched for my cell phone. I hastily began to dial 911 when I realized how ridiculous it was going to sound when I told them that a black, clawed creature of some sort had broken into my

apartment. Regardless, there was absolutely no way that I was going to step foot back into the apartment alone and unarmed. I decided that I would tell the police that someone had broken into my apartment and I believe that they were still there. It took about 45 minutes before I saw the signature flashing blue and red lights pull into my apartment complex. I promptly met the cop and the cruiser and briefly explained the situation to him, leaving out the part about worthy intruder, possibly being inhuman. We walked up the stairs together, with him leading the way and me following behind. He stopped abruptly as soon as we reached the top of the stairs. Even though I was still behind the officer, I could tell his eyeline was still fixed on the hoof prints leading to my apartment.

Without hesitation, he slowly but confidently unholstered his handgun and gripped it with both hands, ready to shoot. He told me to stay at the top of the staircase as he went to investigate further. I watched as he pulled the apartment door open, announcing his presence, and for the intruder to come out with his hands up. There was no response. The following silence hung thick in the air. He began to take a step forward into the apartment when I heard the same floorboard creak again. A quick flash of black shut it out from inside the apartment and slashed the cop across the face before pulling the door shut once again, leaving four distinct claw marks engraved in his skin.

The cop fell back, stunned before quickly gaining his composure. He jumped up, pushed past me, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he sped down the staircase and back into his cruiser. I yelled out to him, but he didn't even bother to look back. I ran down to try to stop him from leaving, but he had already put the car in reverse. His tires spun furiously in the gravel, throwing a cloud of dust and rocks at me as he sped off. I couldn't believe my own eyes. I shakily dialed 911 once again and explained.

the situation to the operator, but there was a strange tone in her voice. It was if she knew something more about all of this than I did. They simply told me that there was nothing else that they could do, and to call again should any other problems arise. If the people who were put in charge to protect couldn't even help me, then what else was I to do? I fell down on my knees, feeling defeated, as tears began to pool in my eyes. Suddenly I heard the apartment door creak open slowly, followed by two thunderous stumps. I felt the creature's eyes. I felt the creature's eyes. I was eyes staring at the back of my head. I was frozen in terror, afraid to even take a breath or look back. The steps began to get closer, with each one being louder and more doom-laden than the one

before. I started to accept my untimely demise when I heard a vehicle squeal into the parking lot. A young girl with rowdy brunette hair swung open a passenger door. Her mahogany eyes burned with a rugged ferocity. We didn't even have to exchange words. Her curt demeanor said it all, and I made my way to her car as fast as my feet could carry me. I heard the pace of the footsteps behind me quicken, along with a demonic yet primal growl. I barely had both feet inside the car before it sped off towards the exit. The creature swiped at us one last time. Its claws scraping the passenger side of the vehicle. I turned around, locking eyes with the creature once again. Its glowing yellow eyes and a wide, fanged smile faded away, swallowed by the blackness surrounding the edge

the woods. Despite the pure, unbridled terror and confusion I felt at that moment, I somehow knew I would be back. I live in a big house by a country road in Pennsylvania. I love the outdoors. Often I go hiking, hunting, fishing, or ride my ATV whenever I have a day off from work. There's a massive forest behind my house, and I have had countless adventures in those woods. Sometimes during the night, animals visit my backyard. I don't mind. They never. never cause me any trouble, but I have a security camera that monitors the backyard just in case. Most of the time it's just deer, foxes, and one time a black bear. There are not a lot of houses in my area, so the animals are essentially my neighbors.

Last year, I invited my friends and family to my place for a barbecue cookout during the 4th of July. The adults and I were on the deck telling silly stories of things that happened at work. Their childrens were either playing in the backyard, shooting Nerf guns at each other, or inside playing games. After the party ended, I cleaned up around the house. Around 10 p.m., I was in the living room watching the news and started to hear loud shrieks coming from the woods. I turned on the lights in the backyard and looked through the kitchen window, but saw nothing. I didn't think much of it, and just assumed it was a cougar. I have seen them a few times throughout the summer while hiking in the forest late at night. I turned the lights off, and I went to bed. The next morning,

I decided to check the security camera to see if any animals came into my backyard, but nothing happened that night. I was off from work that day, so I took my ATV and ventured into the woods. About 10 minutes of driving through the forest, I came across the remains of a deer, covered in claw marks lying in the dirt. His eyes and tongue were ripped out. Upon further investigation, there was a massive slit under the belly, and all of its organs were removed.

This was rather unusual, and I assumed that the deer was a touch. attacked by a bear, but I brushed it off and continued to ride my ATV through the forest. After 20 minutes go by, I got thirsty and stopped by a small rocky cliff near a creek. I drank my water while sitting on the cliff. It was very relaxing, hearing the calm stream of water and the birds chirping in the trees. I saw a red-tailed hawk swoop down into the water and grab a large fish. This was an incredible sight, and things like that is why I love going into the woods. Just when I was about to go back to the ATV and drive home, I noticed that a corpse of a young man was lying at the bottom of the cliff,

and red was smeared all over the rocks around the body. I walked to a nearby hill and got a closer look, and much like the buck I saw earlier, the corpse was covered in claw marks, and its tongue and eyes and organs were gone. This unsettled me, so I took pictures and showed them to the police when I got home. The police recovered the body for further investigation,

and told me to contact them if I find any. anything else suspicious in the forest. After they left, I went to the diner for lunch with my best friend George. Something strange has been going on in the woods, I said. I came across the husk of a deer, and later a young man. Both of them had their organs, eyes, and tongue extracted by something. George had a curious look on his face. I recently got a job with the local police, and there have been numerous reports of cattle, even human corpses with the same conditions for the past week. He said, What he told me gave me an uneasy feeling.

Some farmers think this might be aliens abducting people and animals. But that's just ridiculous, George said. He drank his coffee and asked a waitress for a reef full. He noticed a nervous look on my face. What's wrong? You think aliens are doing this? George laughed. No, not at all.

I'm probably still in shock from what I saw in the woods earlier, I said. George nodded his head. I would be spooked too if I was in your shoes. Well, at least you didn't go Logan Paul recording the body and making a joke out of it, George said. I chuckled from this comment, and after lunch, I headed home. As much as I loved the outdoors, I didn't feel safe going into the woods anymore. So I locked all my doors and windows and played my PS4 for the rest of the afternoon. When it got dark outside, I started hearing the same screaming that I had heard last night.

I turned the lights on in the backyard, and for a split second saw a pair of big eyes in the woods, reflecting the lights before rushing deep into the woods. I kept hearing screaming throughout the night, so I went to bed with headphones on, listening to relaxing music, and I had a pocket pistol under the pillow just in case something enters my room. Luckily, I was able to sleep well for the night.

When I had breakfast the next morning, I checked the security camera. Nothing came into my backyard until 3.17 a.m. I was shocked at what I saw. A hairy humanoid with six long limbs crawled into my backyard. It had dark, shaggy hair hanging from them like an orangutan. There was an arm directly on top of each shoulder.

It had big glowing eyes with no pupil, massive claws on each hand, and its mouth gaped open with long, sharp teeth. It was dragging a massive bear covered in claw marks. The creature then began to eat the bear. When the creature finished eating, it came to the back yore and scratched on it like it was a dog trying to get inside. It snarled and slowly crawled its way back into the woods, leaving behind the bear's skin and bones.

Of all those years I spent in the woods, I have never seen anything like this. I went to my backyard, and sure enough, the empty husk of the bear was lying in the grass. I checked my door, and there was no damage. I called the police immediately, and George came with them. I showed them the bear husk and the security footage. This is horrifying, cried George.

Whatever that thing is, it's probably the one that got all of those animals and people. George and the other officer decided to contact the state police. Shortly after, a squadron came and searched the forest. After several hours, they didn't find anything, so they left the area. When I came home from work that night, I began to hear the same screaming sounds coming from the woods. I was outside and I heard the sound much clearer. It sounded like a dog or a hyena, but much deeper. I could not let this creature harm people and their livestock.

I wanted to end this once and for all. I grabbed my hunting shotgun, pocket pistol, cell phone, and flashlight. I then started to walk into the woods. As I journeyed into the woods, the screams echoed all over the place. The creature could be anywhere. Suddenly, I saw it several yards away from me, eating an elk. I carefully aimed my gun at the monster, and then it noticed me. I pulled the trigger and shot it.

The beast fell over, but quickly got up, brushing it off. The ape creature gave out an enraged roar and charged me on all six limbs. I shot at it four more times, but they only slightly knocked the creature back. My gun suddenly jammed, and the creature jumped towards me. I swung my shotgun at its head like a baseball bat. I heard a snap, and the creature cried. It fell to the ground, and its top pair of arms snapped its head back in place. The creature snarled at me, and I ran deeper into the woods.

I tried shooting at it with my pocket pistol, but the creature got away. Exhausted, I walked back to my house. I checked my phone, and it was 11 p.m. I locked everything and went to bed. I woke up at 4 in the morning and started hearing loud banging coming from my back door. I put on my pair of night vision goggles and looked through my window. I was startled when I saw, not one, but three ape creatures standing on my deck. One of them was able to smash the door open, and they crawled into my house one by one.

Terrified, I tried calling 911, but my phone died. I could hear the beasts walking through the house. They curiously looked around the house, interacting with objects. around them. I then noticed that one of them was right underneath my chandelier by the front door. I shot the chain holding the chandelier and it fell on top of the beast. I then ran downstairs to the front door. The other two creatures began to chase me. One of them walked on the broken glass and cried in pain. The other one observed the two injured creatures and then climbed on the wall

avoiding the glass as if it were an insect. I put my shoes on and ran for the car. Just when I was about to start the engine the ape creature slammed into my car, nearly pushing it over. I started the engine and drove away from the house. I headed to a hotel near the highway and asked for a room on the top floor. I spent the rest of the night there sleeping. I called off work the next morning, telling them I was sick. I was able to charge up my phone in the hotel room and call the police. Besides the chandelier and back door, not much was damaged in my house. When the police investigated my house, all the creatures were gone. However, the police were able to find clumps of black hair around the house, as well as some blood around the broken glass.

The samples of hair and blood they collected has only added more mystery to what happened. At first, it didn't seem like anything unusual, but one of the scientists in the crime lab discovered that their chemical makeup wasn't only organic. It seemed to be unexpectedly, mechanical, an organic machine. The samples were then sent to a hospital lab for further research. After I got the damage in my house repaired, I adopted a young, German Shepherd from the animal shelter. I take her with me whenever I go into the woods and stayed out of there whenever it was dark outside. I haven't seen the creatures since then, but every once in a while I hear them screaming in the woods. Occasionally, there are still

reports on the local newspaper of animal and human husks being found in the area. Every time I am reminded of those things, I keep asking myself, what are they? But more importantly, how many more are out there? I've been working second shift for a couple of years now, and I have to say it's come with some distinct advantages. The biggest one that I can tell you is that by the time I get off work, most people are home and either asleep or ready to go to sleep. This means my drive home is peaceful, with few drivers to look out for and almost no one to slow me down. But last night, my drive home ended with something I cannot fully explain. I need to give you all a bit of information about my drive home.

I live on the outskirts of a mid-sized city. The drive itself is only. about 25 minutes. I cut that down to 20 at night when I get to speed home. The most important thing to know is there's lots of fields on both sides of the road for most of my drive. Roadkill is a common sight. Deer were unfortunately the most common. They'd sneak out of the fields trying to cross to the other side, only to be met with a car going a little too fast to stop in time. It's unfortunate, but they would be left on the side of the road with contorted limbs, a bent neck or gore spilling from their body, sometimes all of the above. A pretty gruesome and violent way to go, but something most people are desensitized to with how common it is. Day by day, the corpse

would slowly rot. Each day I would see the decay as I drove by until that day where it was just gone. I still have no idea where those dead deer go. I just know they sit there for days rotting, and then suddenly they're gone, and the side of the road waits for its next piece of roadkill. Nearly every night as I drove home from work, I would see a dough that would linger on the edge of the field, like she was waiting for her chance to cross. I would also slow down to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. There were a few times she stood in the center of the road and I would just have to lay on my horn to get her to move. I'd figured that I'd see her on the side of the road after a while, hit by some speeding driver.

Well, last night, I was in a bit of a rush to get home. There was no particular reason for it. Maybe I was just hungry and wanted to get some food in my belly. Or maybe I just wanted to get home and relax. I'm not entirely sure myself, but I found my foot pushing a little too hard on the gas as I sped down the field-lined road, watching as my speedometer crept ever higher.

I think by now you have a clear idea of what happened. I slammed into the deer at maximum speed. There was a loud thud and the car shook from the impact. She flipped clear over my car and landed behind me as I pushed my foot down on the brake pedal. I barely kept control of the car until it finally skidded to a stop. My immediate thought was to check and make sure I wasn't injured.

I felt fine, other than the jerk forward from breaking so hard. There was no reason to be injured. I looked myself over and everything was fine. I shamefully must admit that the next thought was not the deer who lay on the road behind me, but instead it was my car. I took a deep breath and opened my door. Stepping out into the dark of night, I moved to the front of the car to inspect the damage.

In the dark it was too difficult to see, but the front bumper in the hood had received damage, though it was nothing catastrophic. I hoped my insurance would cover it as I cursed aloud at this situation. Lastly, I decided to check on the deer. It was immediately clear that she was gone. Her head was bent so far back that it nearly touched her back, and I silently accursed myself for not slowing down and paying more attention. This could have all been avoided.

I returned to my car to fetch a pair of gloves from the glove compartment. I wasn't going to touch that thing without some gloves on, but I had to get that deer out of the road so other drivers don't continue to run her over. It was the least I could do, so I grabbed the legs and began to pull the deer off the side of the road. She was heavier than I imagined, but it wasn't far. As I got her to the side of the road, I let go of her legs and noticed something odd. On her side, I could see a pulsating pattern, like the muscle underneath was moving, a death spasm perhaps, or maybe some sort of twitch.

It was a violent way to go, so it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility. I watched as it continued, curiously placing my hand on the area and feeling the rumble underneath, but then something happened, and the pulsating grew more rapid, more violent. I removed my hand out of fear as the area began to bulge like something underneath the skin was pressing to get out. I watched the skin bulge, then relax, each time getting bigger, stretching the limits of the deer's skin. My heart rate was skyrocketing, but things were only getting worse. I was backing up now, but I could still see clearly when the skin ripped and out came a red hand, a human hand. I had seen enough. I ran to my car and tried to start it, but I was

fumbling with my keys out of nervousness. I started to panic as I got the keys in place and started the car. Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see an entire body emerging from the deer. It had the head of a buck, complete with a set of gigantic antlers, but its body was human, covered in what was left of the deer. It stood on two lakes, being nearly eight feet tall by my quick estimation. It wasn't even possible for something like that to fit inside of a deer. I didn't have time to speculate on what it was or how it came to be. I put my car into drive and sped off as it turned around. I kept watch on it through the rearview mirror and saw it get down onto all fours, and to my horror, it started to run after me. The way it ran on all fours with a human body was startling. The unnatural creature

somehow landed itself to a furious speed. Its eyes were filled with malice and copious amounts of drool dripping from its mouth. I floored it as it gained on me. There was no way it could outrun a car. But my car struggled to accelerate, and I could hear a low grunting noise coming from the deer creature. He was so close now. My nerves were shattering. I had a crazy grip on my steering wheel as I prayed for my car to move faster. Its antlers scratched the back of my car as it disappeared from my rearview mirror and came back into my side view mirror. as it made its way alongside my car. With quick thinking, I turned my wheel ever so slightly to the left

in an effort to push him away. To my fortune, he stumbled and fell, losing all momentum. My car, having finally gained enough speed, roared down the road without an issue. I made a few last checks in my rearview mirror, but the deer creature was gone from sight. I got home safely,

but there was no way I could sleep after an event like that. I altered between anxious pacing and sitting at my computer to search the internet. I searched everywhere for some sort of explanation. I read about Skinwalkers, Wendigo, ghosts, demons, but none of it really matched or explained what this thing was. Half of it was fictional stories that people cooked up,

and the other half were likely just fake too. As I paced past my window for probably the hundredth time that night, my motion sensing light in my front yard lit up. To my horror, it stood there on two legs in my front yard. The deer creature arched its head back and forth, almost like it was sniffing the air. I crouched down below the window, and before I knew it,

I had found myself lying down on the floor in a fetal position, trying my best not to make any noise. Terrifying thoughts of him catching me and goring me with his antlers ran through my head. I don't know how long I laid there, but I only moved once the sun started to come up. I cautiously checked the front yard, and it was clear. I looked out every window in my house

to make sure it wasn't just waiting outside, but I didn't see any sign of it. I tried to convince myself I was delusional. It was all just my imagination, where I was sick, but my car still has the damage from hitting the deer, and scratches all over the back from the thing's antlers. There was no denying that. A quick shower and a change of clothes had me feeling a little more at ease,

but my lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me. I had to go to work, though, and that meant going back down that road. I could detour around it, but I wanted to see if that deer was still laying on the side of the road. The car started as usual, and I found myself driving to work on autopilot. My thoughts went back to last night's events, and I nearly lost my nerve to keep going. But I reasoned that in the day it would be safe for me to go down that road.

Traffic was heavier during the day, and for once I was thankful there would be more people than just me on that road. But when I was approaching the road, I saw multiple police cars with their sirens on. They were blocking off the road. Testing my luck, I rolled down my window as I approached the turn, and decided to ask the officer what was going on. This road closed? Something happened down there? I asked the officer.

Yeah, the road's closed for now. You can go up the next road and cut through there if you need a detour. He was not forthcoming on the reason, so I tried a second time. Can I ask why you're closing it? Was there an accident? Right now, I can't say anything for certain. The policeman looked around before leaning in and speaking softly. This was no car accident.

All I can say. I gave him a quick thanks and began to say. slowly drive off, peering down the road as best as I could, I noticed an ambulance there. An ominous feeling came over me and I started to think about the deer creature. I saw a group of men who appeared to be field workers, judging by their slightly dirty clothes and gloves. They all frowned as they silently sat outside the barricade of the police cars, and one of them appeared to be crying. I pulled my car over and decided to ask if they knew anything. You guys know anything about why the road is closed? I asked. The group of guys just looked at me,

and then at each other, but one of them stepped forward and spoke to me reluctantly. Ain't no easy way to say it, but there's been a murder down on that road, one of my workers. There was a long pause, and I thought he might stop there, but he offered more details. Well, he usually is the first one here every morning, but this morning we came and found him on the side of the road, gone. Looked like an animal got him. He had holes in him and looked like he had been charged several times, but I ain't ever heard of a buck getting someone. My blood ran cold as he told me this. I shuddered out something about being sorry for their loss and turned around to head home.

Whatever that thing is, I can only hope it never finds me again. This is one of the most recent encounters I've had. Last night was a cold one, even for South Carolina, and my friend and I had just come from downtown Charleston. Oddly enough, we were on the hunt for any unnatural things, hoping that we'd attract yet another set of terrifying or suspenseful circumstances. Suffice it to say, our wish had been granted. So, without further ado, let's begin.

My friend and I had a long day, filled to the brim with fun and adventure, investigations and whimsical things. After we had spent most of the day in the downtown portion of Charleston, enjoying the frigid breeze and watching the rough waters roll against the docks, we decided it was best to head back before nightfall. Some time had passed, and we eventually arrived back in our city of Somerville. But our appetite for the supernatural and otherworldly hadn't been sated just yet, so we decided to drive around and look at a newer town that had just been added close to us,

the town of Summer's Corner. It was a nice town, sure enough, but the energy there had just felt weird. Atmosphericly speaking, it was heavy and almost suffocating. That wouldn't deter us, as we're quite a resilient bunch, always moving forward, keeping a smile on our face, even if the circumstances are pure unadulterated agony, About half an hour into the drive, we discovered a street called Navajo Boulevard, which had immediately piqued our interests, as the name itself is similar to the Native American

tribes of the Navajo people, the exact people who hold within their traditions one of the most scariest entities to haunt our world, the Skinwalker. So, we start to drive down the road. It's dark, and the energy there is thicker than the rest of the road. We had our windows down, so we could truly feel the atmosphere and its energy, its vibrancy. and we were not disappointed. Immediately, we felt watched, not by multiple things, but one entity.

This thing did not want us there, at all, and we felt it come closer to us. Its present was intimidating, quite malicious as well, and it put us on edge, our eyes peeled and ourselves readied for whatever might happen next.

The night grew quiet. All the noise ceased and the silence fell around the surrounding area. Where there had been no prior wind before, a heavy gust slammed itself, into the side of my car and nearly shoved it off its left side. That's when we knew this was no mere entity. Just then, we saw a face in the front of our flickering headlights,

grotesque, reddened with malice and spiteful things. Its eyes as pale and silver as the moon, gazed into our souls, sending nothing but fear throughout our entire bodies. We were motionless now, ourselves shrinking into our seats as this abomination grew closer and manifested more into view. It unhinged its jaw and let out a harassed, A terrific scream, much like from the first one I heard, of a dog's bark, a goat's bleat, and additionally, a fox's scream and an eagle's soaring screech.

Enough was enough. I put the car into reverse and we drove the hell out of there. Unfortunately, the feeling was only intensified as we got back under the road and sped away. The intensity and dread grew ever more as it gained speed. Another gust of wind slammed into the car. Suddenly, my friend yelled for me to look out the window, right behind my seatbelt on the outside of the outside of the car, that's when I saw this awful thing in its entirety. Reddish, pale skin, eyes that seemed to have no end, with goat and reptilian-like slits in the pupils. Two stubby little horns adorned its head, sprouting out from atop the brow ridge, and rising just above its forehead.

It opened its mouth and revealed rows of sharp, gnarled teeth, a hand with long, stained claws scratched at the glass, making a scream to high heaven. My foot pressed the gas pedal as hard as it could, as we were about to drive out of the neighborhood, the thing smiled at us and faded away. The breeze scattering the leaves on the road against where it had been perched on my car's side, it was gone, but we heard a very audible whisper tell us that it'd be back real soon. Then it was quiet again. The heavy energy subsiding and gaining some neutrality as the night dragged on. All of this goes to show us, my friend and I,

that just because we've experienced our fair share of unnatural things, and even more together, that there's always something, out there waiting to show us more of the true world we live in, the world that we share with these entities, beings that cross from their veil into ours. So I used to live in northern Arizona in a town called Page. The town is on Lake Powell and nearby Horseshoe Bend, which are both massive tourist attractions recently. It also happens to border the Navajo Reservation and has a population that is majority native. I'm currently 18. I moved away less than a month ago, so I my whole life in the town, essentially. I have heard stories, many stories from my friends,

their parents as well, but these two stories are my actual experiences. The first story happened a year and a half ago. Since pages a 60 mile drive from the next closest town, the nearby area is very popular among locals for Jackrabbit, Coyote, and Bobcat Hunting. This particular day, I was out on my own, pretty far back on some local dirt trails. Pretty recently after, I started hunting myself. My target was coyotes. This was before I had a call, so I had to look for them or bait them. And my firearm was a Springfield Saint AR-15, loaded with American Eagle 55 grain AP shells, which, yes, is an important detail. It was probably around noon, and I had wandered down into the wash that ran up into and across the bottom of one of the sandstone cliff sides of the area.

While walking through the wash, I scared probably the biggest coyote I had ever seen up the side, of the cliff face. As it was scaling, I took three shots at it, and I was able to hit at least one because it started bleeding as it made its way up and over the top of the hill cliff. I gave pursued and probably scaled the face in three to four minutes of winded climbing. At the top, the cliff turned into a flat mesa, covered by shrubs and dried up bushes, probably about knee-high at most, with no coyote in sight. I started to follow the blood trail. After about 20 minutes of following, I was confused and somewhat concerned. The trail was still thick. Too much was being spilt to allow the coyote to continue in a straight sprint for that long, and I was hunting

with the round that would drop a mountain lion in its tracks. After about 10 more minutes, the tracks from the coyote met up with the tracks from what I'm assuming were goat tracks. This is where I turned and got the hell out of there. Both of the tracks were recent, deep, and the sand was still loose enough to fall when I kneeled down to take a look at them. The tracks split from each other, the coyotes going far off to the left, and the goats going to the right. The blood trail, though, no longer followed the tracks of the coyote, but instead indicated that the goat had been shot. The tracks led down into another wash, known in the area for being bad news, so I got back to my truck, fast after that. The second story took place near the outskirts of town, and has a video that comes with it.

My friends and I were out around 10 at night, near one of the local jogging trails. At the edge of one of these trails, a storm drain tunnel sticks out. We used to joke about skinwalkers using it to hide from joggers or bikers, but it never paid it much attention. This night, though, we decided to go into the storm drain to see for ourselves. I, of course, was the first one in, and had five people behind me. We were probably 300 feet in when I heard what sounded like claws scraping against the concrete ahead of me. I could only see about 50 feet in front of me with my light, so I shushed everyone behind me. As soon as we got quiet, a moan resonates through the tunnel.

I had never backtracked on all fours so fast in my life. The storm drain leads to a nearby road, which the people who were too scared to go into the tunnel were looking at. But they were not on the road or anywhere near the opening of the road, and were taking snapschats at the time of the noise, showing us that, one, it wasn't them. and two, there were no cars on the road at the time. I can't prove these were skin walkers, but they definitely weren't any person or animal I've ever encountered in my lifetime. Here's the video.

To start this off, I wanted to give some background information. I'm 14, female, and half Navajo. I've never been on the res and my mom and grandma never told me about these things. I'm pretty small and rabbit-like with how I act. Pretty much everything scares me, but given the chance, I won't hesitate to break someone's jaw. My girlfriend is 16 and mostly Russian. She usually puts herself in front of me to try to protect me if need be. These are important later on in the story. In my town, there's a plot of land that I believe that may have once been a golf course. I go to this plot of land with my girlfriend,

we'll call her Casey, and my friends. This piece of land has become overgrown after no attention for a few decades, and is almost a plot of woods. It has long grass, vines, bushes, and trees. It's always full of life, too. Rabbits and squirrels in the spring and summer, deer foxes and raccoons in the fall and winter, and it always has blue jays everywhere. It was a really beautiful sight all year long. We call this plot of land, Wonderland. Flanking Wonderland is a set of abandoned train tracks that goes all the way through the town. We call this the deer trail, because we see loads of deer all along it every fall. In Wonderland, there's a small shed alongside one of the deer trails

that we call the devil's toy box, which overlooks the majority of Wonderland because of where it sits. Up on the hill is a circle of trees that we call the ark, because we're big fans of Marble Hornets and needed a name for it. So hopefully this sets the scene for you. Again, all important later on. This happened sometime two years ago. It was about a week before Halloween,

and I was walking home from school. Casey didn't join me like she usually did because she was sick that day, so it was just me. The way I walk home usually takes me down an alleyway near Wonderland, so I figured I'd stop in Devil's Toy Box to rest. I popped down inside and sat my stuff down as well.

I took a moment to look around Wonderland to enjoy the beautiful fall colors being lit up by the sun. Up on the hill, emerging from the ark, was a massive buck with these huge antlers. I just started to awe at the first. size of it. All at once, all of the blue jays stopped chirping, and the sun disappeared behind the clouds. There was a distinguishing stench in the air that I could only describe as burnt

hair mixed with old dog crap. It was completely awful. I gagged and struggled not to throw up while the deer snapped its head and looked at me. The movement was all wrong. Its head and neck moved, but the rest of it stayed completely still and rigid, kind of like a statue. I studied the buck further and saw its skin was loose and seemed to be just draped over its body. I also started to realize that it was bone thin and I could see its ribs. Its eyes weren't the dark eyes of a deer. They were strangely human and bright yellow. As I grabbed my book bag and prepared to book it out of there, the thing stood up on its hind legs. I know that deer can stand on their back legs to get a better look around, but I do know they can't walk for very long and sure as hell know they can't run like

that. It started running at me. I heard an ear-piercing shriek that gives me chills to this day. It sounded like an infant's crying with a grown man's baritone screaming underneath, and it was all distorted. I threw my book bag over my shoulder and started running as fast as I could down the deer trail. I could hear its hoof steps behind me. When I got about halfway down, I turned around to see if it was still following me. It was standing at the edge of the deer trail and just staring at me with those evil, evil eyes. I burned to the same. I burned. sage and smudged myself in my room as soon as I got home. My room smelled for a week. The next day, Casey was back at school. As we were walking home, she noticed a set of deep deer hoof prints

in the dirt next to the deer trail. Kate, she said as she looked from me to the hoof prints and back, what are these? I explained what happened the day before. As I talked, I could see her eyes growing wide. Let's go. She grabbed my hand and pulled me along the tracks. The next time we went there, we brought sage bundles and other cleansing stuff. We haven't seen anything like that again after that. But the fact that something as evil as that thing was in a place of such serenity gives me chills. This has left me feeling extremely shook

and I'd love some opinions, especially from someone with experience. Last year, I had a very strange experience in the National Forest out in California. I was by myself on a road trip with my dog and I was driving pretty far into the Mendocino National Forest I like to camp in national parks and forests because it's isolated so my dog can roam and they're free of charge. A trade-off for the sketchy rough drives into the park sometimes and a lack of service assistance.

Anyway, I was driving up this dirt road, kind of curling up the mountain maybe around 5 p.m. It was very nice out, sunny and warm with a light breeze. Nothing serious happened, but I felt extremely uncomfortable driving into the area, and that feeling didn't let up. Driving up the mountain, I felt like I shouldn't stay there, and I even texted my boyfriend about it for as long as I could before my phone completely lost service. I was looking around for a sign of another person having been around the area lately, but didn't see anything. I pulled over and got out of my car with my dog and looked over the edge, and noticed a dead squirrel and some broken glass, mixed in with the dirt and gravel road. Yuka, my dog, starts growling slightly. She's vocal, but I've almost only ever seen her growl at other dogs.

I did see her growl at a possum once, so it could be something she smelt, maybe. This place continued to make me feel quite on edge, but I pride myself on being an independent traveler and backpacker, so I decided to continue at least a bit further with my grumbling pup to see if I could find a good place to camp. I continue to notice more dead animals. Keep in mind, no one is going more than five or ten miles an hour up this thing, and that's if there's anyone up there. I hear men's voices. They sound close and I think I should call out to them. So I stopped my car, but then I kind of freeze up and feel like I shouldn't. I can't really

make out what they're asking. I don't see any sign of people anywhere, and I get back into my car and continue to slowly drive forward and cautiously look for where the voices could be heard from. I've never ran into other people in the national park or forest when I've gone this deep in. The unsettling feeling grows about the voices, which have sort of come and gone a few times and I give up and begin to turn my car around. I honestly don't remember how Yuka was acting on the way down. I was scared and focused on getting out of there. I just distinctly remember being surprised at her grumbling when we were standing outside of my car. Kind of dangerously, I quickly went down the mountain and not seeing any sign of anyone. I decided to

spring for luxury and get a hotel for the night. I figured I was just fine. Huge and open spaces can be intimidating, I told myself. the voices could have been echoing from somewhere off in the distance, and they just sounded close. Animals die, glass gets broken, nothing happened, cool. But I remember this place. It sticks with me. Whenever I'm watching scary movies, if I'm walking my dog in the woods at night, nothing compares to that feeling I had driving up in the mountain, and it's honestly kind of interesting to me, as well as frightening. I recently happened to cross some information as well as some Native American lore that made me extremely uneasy. Fast forward a year, I mentioned this place to a few

people and the haunting vibes it gave me, but nothing much more. I googled the National Park once and didn't see anything, but didn't look much either. I like scary movies and things of that nature, hence my fascination in this little event. So my boyfriend and I were coming up on finishing our road trip just yesterday. We were in Wyoming for a wedding. There were only two to three hours left, and the sun had to set, so we decided to listen to some scary podcasts and YouTube videos. We went from No Sleep Podcasts to X-Files and ended up on True Stories video, dealing with a Native American lore. I'm half paying attention petting my dog, playing Pokemon on an emulator, and I hear the narrator mentions Skinwalkers and Wendigows.

Very briefly says what they are, and casually mentions they can mimic voices. I mean it when I had the most horrible chills I'd ever had in my life, crawl down my spine. and I stare at my boyfriend and ask him if he remembers the National Forest. He says he does and reminds me that he texted me. I was probably close to a Skinwalker. He did. I remember him saying that, but I didn't know much about their lore, and thought he was just being funny, like, yeah, Bigfoot is probably stalking you,

or some other dad joke. And he was like, no. I mean, I was mostly joking, but I said it specifically because you said you were hearing voices that you couldn't find a trace of. I feel strange and I start Googling Skinwalkers, etc. They are allegedly able to mimic human voices and they would live in that sort of area. It all matched up.

Obviously, there's a ton of questionable information out there, but I tried to find more reputable websites and authentic experiences. I then specifically looked up missing persons in the area and the first headline that catches my eye is, another family goes missing in Mendocino. And I went through different websites and news articles of people going missing, but they are all a little hidden underneath the National Park websites and pictures of trees. I remember looking up the forest about a year ago and didn't see anything and realize these

stories didn't seem to be talked about much, which also piqued my intuition. It has also stated that well over 100 people in the past eight years have gone missing and have not been found, on top of many which are found dead. It just has my intuition super spiked, remembering how unsafe I felt and how much I wanted to get out of there terrifies me, and I felt so uneasy about what I was hearing and do to this day. My dog and I are very close. She was a stray that started following me one day, and I ended up bringing her home from Costa Rica.

So her little growls along the way makes me feel like there was something wrong. Even though it was just a storytelling video, those stories originate from somewhere. I have done a lot of solo traveling both in and out of the country, and I have never had such a bad feeling. on top of seeing an unnecessary amount of dead animals in national forests, which just seems strange. I don't think I'll be doing more solo traveling unless it's around civilization. For as long as I can remember, my family has owned this little cabin in northern Michigan.

Originally, it served as a hunting lodge from my grandfather and his friends, but when he passed away, my father inherited it. We spent many weekends there over the years, but once my brother and I left home, the place was used less and less. Eventually, my parents began renting it out to people looking for a quiet place to stay in the woods, an Airbnb type of deal. The cabin sits on 20 acres of land, deep in the woods.

The closest neighbors are a half a mile away, and the nearest town is 20 miles away, perfect for those looking to get away from it all. They've been renting this place out for years with no problems at all, until last winter, that is. Last December, a couple requested to book the cabin for a week, My dad doesn't like to rent the place out in the winter, mostly because it's heated by a wood-burning stove that requires a ton of wood to be chopped in preparation. And also, he has to pay someone to come and plow all of the snow so it can be pricey.

The couple, a wealthy doctor and his wife, said that they'd paid triple if they had to. All of the other places they had tried were booked through the holidays, and it was the week of their anniversary. My dad reluctantly agreed and made the necessary calls to get the place opened up. place opened up. He called me on December 20th and asked if I could drive up to the cabin. It was only about 45 minutes from where I was staying at the time, and meet with the couple, let them in, show them around, etc. He had come down with the flu and couldn't make it, so I said I would. As I drove down to the cabin's long drive the next afternoon, a winter storm advisory was going on the radio. Roads were clear for now, but there would be 24 to 30 inches of snow

by the next afternoon. A record-breaking snowstorm for the area, according to a meteorologist. I felt a little uneasy, and I decided to give the couple of the opportunity to back out with a full refund if they wanted. With the storm coming,

I didn't think it would be wise for them to stay stranded up there alone, especially since cell phone signal in those parts is for the most part non-existent, and plows can take a few days to get the roads back. When I reached the cabin, I saw a shiny black Mustang parked out front,

and felt a sense of dread that I could hardly describe or make sense of. I had the sudden urge to tell these people that the deal was off and that they needed to go somewhere, anywhere else. Instead, I parked my car, got out, and walked over to greet them. I could tell that they weren't from this area as soon as I saw them. The man was wearing an expensive-looking suit, and the woman had on a fur coat and designer heels, not exactly proper winter gear for the climate.

Hi, Claire Lane? My dad is the one who owns this. this place. I believe you spoke to him? I said as I stuck my hand out to shake the man's and then the woman's. Yes, the man said, looking over me. We really appreciate him agreeing to let us stay in such short notice. He paused. Of course, I'll make it worth his while. As the man whom I came to know as Dr. Grant Oswald and I went over the details of their stay, Mrs. Oswald came up the porch steps and walked over to the window, peering inside. This place is perfect, Grant. She called over happily. It's even better than the pictures. Grant looked at me and smiled. I took them inside and we

walked through the front door. I breathed a small sigh of relief. The wood burner was going in the far corner of the living room and the place was nice and warm. My dad's friend Jimmy from down the road had already been by and gotten the wood chopped and the fire started. That was one less thing for me to worry about. I showed them around, gave them a little history on the place. They seemed like nice enough people, but I still had that nagging feeling telling me that they shouldn't be there. Before I left, I gave them their out. Look, I don't know if you guys know this or not, but there's a storm coming. It's expected to drop a couple feet of snow, and you're a long way from any kind of help if something were to happen. If the weather is bad enough, it might be a while for

anyone to come and plow you out. I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to stay here, given the circumstances. I stared at them carefully as I said this, and saw what looked like an expression of fear or concern flash across Mrs. Oswald's face. We'll be fine, Grant assured me with a good-natured grin. We've brought enough food and supplies to last a week, and it looks like there's enough wood out there to heat this place for a whole month, if need be. Okay, but if you find yourselves needing anything, there's an old CB radio in the back bedroom upstairs. Most of the old timers around here have them. You might be able to reach somebody that way. We do have our cell phones, Miss Oswald laughed. They won't do you much good up here, I told her. At this, they both pulled out

their phones and looked at them. No bars. As I left there that day, that gut feeling refused to subside, but I convinced myself that I was just being paranoid, and I continued on home. Part 2. It had been five days since the Oswald's had checked into their cabin, and it Every night since, I had been plagued with strange nightmares. It was the same one every time. It started with me driving down the long driveway to the cabin. I'd get out of my truck, and that's when I'd see paw prints. Thousands of huge, nasty paw prints all around the property

leading up to the porch steps to the cabin's wide-open door. The door would then slam shut, and I would wake up, drenched in a cold sweat, unable to shake that dreadful feeling. I decided that enough was enough. I would drive to the cabin that day and check on the Oswald's. Proved to myself that this whole thing was just some weird reaction to the stress I had been under lately, with school and my new job. The ride up wasn't bad.

The storm had dropped a solid 22 inches, but the plows had been out full force for the last two days, so the main roads were mostly clear. I called Jimmy and asked if the back roads have been cleared. He said they had, so far, so good. I told him about the plans of me going to check on the Oswalds, but left out the parts about the nightmares and the strange intuitions. I didn't want to make myself look crazy if this turned out to be nothing.

He said that I was more than welcome to stop by and have dinner with him and his wife, Marine, when I was finished, and I said that I would. It was nearly 5 p.m. when I arrived at the cabin. The first thing that I noticed was that, despite the fact of the sun had nearly set, all of the lights were off inside. I put my truck and four-wheel drive and pulled up next to the black Mustang, which was now partially buried in the snowdrift. As I approached it, I noticed a second odd thing.

The driver's side door was wide open, but when I looked inside, I saw the keys were dangling from the ignition. There was snow inside, piled on the seat and the floor, so I knew it had been there like that for a while. As I walked around toward the porch, I saw the paw prints. My body ran cold. I stood there for a minute, just listening, but there was only silence. I walked up the porch steps.

The snow was knee-deep, and I could feel it soaking through my jeans. I could see the door was slightly ajar, so I quickly shoved it open with my foot and went inside. The house was ice cold, the wood burner held nothing but old ashes, and I knew that the fire had been out for at least a day or two. Dr. Oswald? I called out. Mrs. Oswald? Is anyone here? Silence. I went to the hall closet, where my parents kept all of our old yard games and sports equipment,

and grabbed the baseball bat that had once belonged to my brother. I didn't know what, if anything, I might encounter, but there was a huge part of me that had to get to the bottom of it. I turned on the living room light and looked around. The first thing that I saw was a large, overstuffed sofa where my brother and I had spent our rainy days watching movies, had been completely torn to shreds. Stuffing, bits of fabric and splinters from its wooden frame were scattered around the room. I treaded quietly into the kitchen and noticed it had been trashed too. The dining table was on its side,

and there was what looked like teeth marks on the legs. The chairs had been torn to pieces, and the refrigerator was wide open, half-eaten food and empty wrappers surrounding it. This was really, really bad. I knew at this point that I had two choices. I could go upstairs and check the bedrooms, or I could run outside, jump in my truck and get the hell out of there and let the police handle the rest. For whatever reason, I felt this overwhelming urge to go upstairs,

so that's what I did. When I got on top of the stairs, I caught a whiff of the stairs, I caught a whiff of something rancid and instantly recognized it as the unforgettable smell of decay. I peered into the first bedroom and saw nothing out of the ordinary. When I looked into the second bedroom was when I saw it, a lake. It was on the floor beside the bed. It was completely stripped of muscle except the foot, which was somehow intact. I figured it belongs to Mrs. Oswald because the toenails were painted bright red.

I stifled a scream and ran for the stairs. My curiosity had officially ran out, and all I wanted was to get. get out of there. As I rounded the corner and put my foot on the first step, I heard a loud crash that came from downstairs. I stood at the top of the stairs and stared down. I saw a large shadow past the light that was coming from the kitchen. I then heard a growl. It didn't sound like any animal I'd ever heard, and it filled me with the kind of terror I haven't felt before, or since. I ran down the hall into the third bedroom. That room belonged to my parents. I shut the door as quietly as I could and locked it. When I turned around, I had to be. I turned around,

I saw Dr. Oswald, or what was left of him anyway. There was a ribcage laying on the bed that had been picked clean, and the rest of him was on the floor about two feet from where I was standing. His eyes were wide open and his mouth seemed to be frozen into a permanent scream. The walls in the carpet were covered in a dried red substance. I held my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming, but tears began to run down my face. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Slow, heavy footsteps. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I could hear the thing rummaging around the other rooms, and I knew it wouldn't be long before it made its way to the one that I was in. I laid on the floor and looked under the door. I saw a shadow of two feet walk by, and then come back and stop in front of the door. God help me. Whatever was on the other side of the door started sniffling, like a dog does when it's caught an interesting scent. I gripped the baseball bat in both hands, but now doubted it would do me any good. I had a moment of clarity and remembered the CB radio. It was on the floor behind me. It looked as if Dr. Oswald had tried to use it.

I clicked on it and grabbed the microphone. Hello? I don't know if anyone is listening right now, but I need help. I pleaded, just above a whisper. There was no response. Please, if anyone can hear me, I'm at the lane cabin on Mile 7. Something terrible has happened. I need help sent right away.

I shrieked into the mic desperately. There was no doubt that the thing outside had hurt me. It began clawing at the door frantically, and I could hear splinters of wood hitting the floor. floor outside. I knew it wouldn't be long before that thing broke through. I finally heard a voice come through on the CB, but there was too much static for me to understand what they were saying. I wasn't sure if they had even heard my message, and I was running out of time. The door was only seconds away from losing its battle, so I ran over to the window, opened it quietly. I climbed out onto the roof and looked over the edge. It was maybe a 15-foot drop, but I thought I might be okay if I managed to land in one of the snowdrifts. Just then, I heard the bedroom door inside break open. I looked back and saw the creature was standing in the window looking at me. I instantly knew what it was now. There was no confusion.

It stood there for a moment, regarding me. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the moon was illuminating the creature like a spotlight. I could see that its thick, black fur was matted. Its eyes were reflecting the light in such a way that they looked like two glowing orbs. It bared its teeth and growled, saliva dripping from its treacherous jaws.

I hesitated for a second and then jumped as the creature broke through the the window and climbed onto the roof after me. I hit the ground hard and struggled to my feet. I heard the creature jumped down after me a moment later. I was feeling its hot breath on the back of my neck. It grabbed the back of my coat and yanked me towards it. My feet left the ground and I knew it was all over for me. Then I heard a shot. The creature let out a yelp and fell to the ground, bringing me down with it. It clumsily raced to its feet and ran into the woods. The person who had fired the first shot fired two more after it, but they both missed. The creature disappeared into the darkness, leaving a trail of a thick black substance in its wake.

A second later, there was a long, ear-splitting howl that echoed through the forest, and then silence. Claire, a voice said, are you all right? It was Jimmy. It's real, I said quietly. Feeling almost a state of shock, it's really real. Sure it is, he said. Now let's get the hell out of here before it decides to come back. I wounded it, but they heal fast.

This is the last night of the full moon. Once morning hits, it will return to whatever the hell it came from, at least for a while. I thought it was a dumb campfire story that old timers told us to scare the kids. All stories start from a bit of truth, he said gently. He offered me his hand and helped me up off the ground. Come on, you can ride with me back to my place and stay with Marine and I for the night. We'll be safe there. But the people who were staying there, there, I began to sob.

I'll call it down to the station in the night. the morning. I don't want anyone else coming here right now, not until morning. I stared out the window as we drove. Neither of us said a word. The nursery rhyme from my childhood played in my head again and again, threatening to drive me mad. Every seven years in the full moon's light, there comes a dog who walks upright. Unlucky souls who cross its trail never live to tell the tale. Part 3. The police listed the cause of death for the Oswald's as an animal attack. and I guess they weren't entirely wrong. Jimmy and I didn't bother correcting them.

Sheriff McCoy knew the truth as well as we did. The deep woods hold secrets, only the locals understand. When all the stars align, a saying that typically implies that something impossibly good has transpired, that all the twists and turns to present day-to-day life just happen to lead you down all the right paths. That's kind of what happened here, just the opposite. Now everybody loves going to house parties.

but hosting them is another story. When the uninvited idiots begin showing up and wrecking havoc on your mom's antique vase collection, that's when you typically begin realizing your mistake. We all wanted to party, but nobody wanted to host. We didn't feel like going to some rando's party either. It's just not the same that way. So when Jason started talking about a decent-sized cabin in the woods

that seemed to be abandoned, we were intrigued. Of course, we were all skeptical, despite the fact. What if somebody actually owned it? it, if it really wasn't abandoned, then that means it's going to be pretty crappy, right? How deep in the woods was it? We weren't trying to get lost either. But when we took a trip out there ourselves, the place couldn't have been more perfect. It was only an eight-minute walk into a nearby wooded park area.

The only thing that worried us here was the fact that there wasn't an actual explicit trail leading to it. But we dealt with it by making our own artificial trail by cutting through the brush. The place was also nice, a little dusty inside. but nothing unbearable. There was even electricity, but that was the concerning part. I mean, somebody had to own it, right? Even so, Jason claimed that he hadn't seen anybody enter or leave during the times he'd come across it. In fact, the door was always unlocked. It was still hard to take his word for it, obviously. The whole situation seemed a bit strange, but since we were idiotic teenagers, we underestimated just how strange things could really get. We didn't simply leave it

at that, we decided to scout the place over the course of the week in an attempt to determine whether or not it was truly abandoned. Sure enough, a week passed and nothing interesting happened. Nobody even approached the place. However, this brought up a frightening possibility that somebody was already living in there. This idea was somehow combated by the fact that we've already entered this place a few times and caused a reasonable ruckus, so it would have made sense that the owner, if they were there, would have confronted us already. In any case, it was still cause for concern. We argued about how to deal with this,

eventually deciding that somebody simply had to go in and do a sweep of all the rooms. The conventional response was something along the lines of, screw that, I don't want to run into some weird guy in there, but we eventually managed to convince each other to go. During the middle of the day, five of us went in together, and it turns out, every room was empty. Well, except for one,

the door to what had to a closet of some sort was locked. So we ignored it. Rookie mistake, I know. There were a few particular things about the house itself, though. 1. There was only one painting framed up, which looked to be some kind of shadowy figure standing outside a window. 2.

There was a straight-up hole that was about 2 inches in diameter in the basement. We tried looking down into it, but it was just darkness. 3. There was a heavy locked box in one of the rooms upstairs. Contents, obviously unknown. In the same room there was also an older, banged-up Android phone, which was out of battery. 4. The TV worked, but there was only one obscure channel, which was just constant footage of a faint light

illuminating what appeared to be a wall in a bedpost. 5. And finally, there was a rocking chair in the living room that was stuck tight to the ground. Reasonable people would have considered these circumstances and noped out of there on the spot, but as I've already established, we were dumb kids trying to get our party on, Nothing was stopping us. We scouted the house for a few more days before finally making our move. We each called up numerous mutual friends informing them about the plan.

They were excited, of course. We were all excited. We planned on having about 20 people in total. If we had slivers of common sense after all, we didn't want to invite hundreds and risk causing a forest fire or something. The day that the party was supposed to take place, we got there early and began setting everything up, which was basically just music, chips, and beer.

A good party is bare bones, after all. No need for a disco ball and a buffet, just alcohol and good company. We also tried hooking up an Xbox to the TV, but we couldn't get it to work. The channel stayed the same, no matter what we did. Although in retrospect, I did notice that the lights seemed to be getting brighter.

We told everyone to come around 8 p.m. And we finished setting everything up around 7. Since we had an hour to waste with just the 5 of us, of us, we cracked open some beers and got the night started. At some point, our buddy Boris brought out something that looked like a Ouija board. Come on, man, we got to try it, he said, sounding excited. The only other person on board with the idea was Max, so we let them go at it while the rest of us continued getting intoxicated. About 10 minutes later, Jason went to the washroom, leaving Chris and I alone. We looked over at the particular rocking chair. What's the point of this sticking to the ground,

Chris said. He walked over and peered down. Is it glue or something? Can't tell. He inspected it for a few more minutes before getting into the chair himself and rocking back and forth. Man, I haven't been in one of these things in a while. And then his face dropped. We both came to the same realization simultaneously. He got off the chair and it immediately stopped moving. He tried moving it again while standing. It wouldn't budge. His face contorted in confusion. What? Oh come on. Max's outburst interrupted our thoughts. We looked over watching as he held the Ouija board. What kind of board is this? he said.

It's not even in English. I took a look at it myself, and he was right. On first glance, the characters appeared to be letters of the alphabet, but all of them were slightly off. For example, the A had two lines through it. I swear, it was fine when I brought it. Boris looked at the board, his face also supporting confusion. Well, where'd you buy it?

Max asked. At some moving away sale, three bucks. Guys, I said as I checked the time on my phone. It's 840. Where the hell is everybody? They all looked up, checking their phones as well. All right, Max said. I'm going to call Aaron to see where she's at.

He dialed the number and walked into the kitchen while the three of us stood still. A vague dread looming over us. I looked at the stationary chair and shivered. As far as I was concerned, alcohol didn't cause hallucinations. Jason came back. into the room, now holding up a book. Check this out, he said, opening it up. It looked comparable to a children's pop-up book, with crudely drawn animals and trees materializing themselves on top of the pages. What about it? Chris asked. Look, Jason said, pointing at the space between two trees. I squinted to

make out what appeared to be a large, gray hand coming out of the dark woods, grabbing onto the branch. Dude, what the hell? Chris said, staring at the bizarre detail. All right, this doesn't make any sense. Mack stormed back into the room. Aaron said that she arrived 20 minutes ago, and then she let out a weird laugh and hung up. Before we could even react to that, Boris spoke up. Ah, guys, he said in a shaky voice.

I can't move my hand. His hand was firmly planted on the board. Quit messing around, Max said, somewhat angrily. I'm serious, man. Boris responded, his voice increasingly frantic. I can't deal with this right now, Chris said. pacing back in the room. I was feeling something similar. There were too many things happening simultaneously, too many storylines to follow. It was frustrating. And as if things couldn't get any

worse, I glanced over at the television, which had been on the entire time. The light had illuminated further, revealing the source of it to be a candle, but it revealed something else as well. A hand dangling over a bed, but it was interrupted again by Boris. He was still screaming about the board. We looked over, watching as his finger moved over across the letters. What? Max shouted, slapping the board out of his hands. Or at least, that's what he tried to do. Just like the chair on the floor, Boris's hand was actually stuck. Max staggered back, shocked at the sight. This can't be happening, he muttered. His phone suddenly rang, and he quickly answered it. Hello? A faint chattering could be heard on the other line.

As he listened, his face grew paler and paler. He put, Put the phone down and a few seconds later, it was Aaron. She said that everyone's in the attic, that we should join them up there. Does this place even have an attic? Chris shouted. Boris breathed a sigh of relief as he finally managed to unstick his hand from the board. That was weird. It's spelled out a message, right?

What was it? I asked him. Yeah, I wasn't paying attention. Too busy freaking out, he responded. This is pretty weird, Jason muttered. His eyes still glued on the pop-up book. Maybe these were just side effects of some bad alcohol, I thought to myself, despite the fact that I felt effectively sober.

In hindsight, that was simply a delusion spurred on by the chain of unexplainable events. Where did Max go? Boris spoke up. We looked around, and sure enough, he was absent. For a while, nobody spoke. We were nearing our tipping point with all the madness going on, after all. All right, Chris said. You've heard the stories, right?

Carbon monoxide makes you loopy. You see things that aren't really happening. If that's the case, then we need to get out of here. What? I responded. How does that explain? But before I finished my sentence, he high-tailed it past me, right into the front door. I went after, screaming at him to get back. He ran all the way to the edge of the trees before stopping.

Look, man, if it was gas, I think we would be gone by now. I called after him. But then something caught my eye, something between the trees. A large gray hand coming out from the dark woods. I raised my voice, ready to yell at him to get back, but he was snatched away before I could even mutter a word. Oh crap, I yelled out, before bolting back inside locking the door behind me. But truth be told, I wasn't so confident about our safety inside the house either. What the hell's he doing, Boris asked. I didn't bother responding.

Instead, I sat down attempting to make sense of any of this, but I couldn't. Everything was messed up. Wait, Jason said, you hear that? Everybody went quiet, trying to discern what he was referring to. Eventually, it became obvious. There was some kind of mumbling coming from down in the basement. That must be Max, Jason said. That seemed like an obvious explanation, but with everything that was going on, I had to be skeptical.

Eventually, three of us decided to head down, just to confirm. Sure enough, Max was there. Mumbling while kneeling down, he was also transfixed, staring into the hole in the floor. I approached him and strained my ears, trying to figure out what he was saying. Yeah, yeah, okay, I'll get him. I will. They're right behind me. I'll do it now. Oh crap, I thought to myself. Out of all of us that could have gotten possessed, it had to be the guy who practiced kickboxing. Max turned around and I winced upon seeing his eyes rolled all the way back, now displaying nothing but white. I tried running back upstairs, but he charged me, sweeping my legs.

What the hell are you doing? Boris yelled at him. But his words didn't register. Max rushed at him as well, before delivering a devastating kick to the ribs. Oh, crap, Jason stammered out as he squared himself up. That turned out to be a bad move as he was dropped in a single punch. I look over at the hole, which now had an eyeball stock coming out of it. The side of that put my fight-or-flight response into overdrive.

While he was distracted, I kicked Max's legs, causing him to stumble. I lifted myself up before be-lining up the stairs. I could hear Jason and Boris following close behind. Once the three of us got up, we blocked the door with a couch. As Max began trying to tear it down moments later, we decided that enough was enough. Let's get out of this place, I said. Nobody argued with the proposition, so we packed up what we could and ran for the door. But, things wouldn't be that simple. As I was about to begin sprinting, I noticed the painting from earlier, the one with the shadowy figure stalking a window.

Oh, please don't, I thought. My eyes began moving towards the only window in the living room. Sure enough, the shadow man was right there, staring at me. A dark body with two bright white eyes. What are you doing, man? Let's go, Jason said, holding his nose, which was gushing. I gestured toward the window in response. Moments later, Max's arm burst through the door. Well, I'll take my chances anyway, Boris said, pushing past me, heading right out the door.

About a second and a half later, he let out a curdling scream that abruptly cut short. A deep chuckling followed. I bounded over to the door and locked it again, only to turn back to see Max's head bursting through the door, like Jack Torrance from the Shining. He said something along the lines of, There will be nothing when the old ones descend upon this cursed earth. However, since it was Max, I found it hard to take seriously.

In any case, Jason and I realized that we were pretty much screwed if we didn't act fast. We both tried weighing our options. While Max was slowly breaking through, It still looked like he had a while to go before he was out completely. Max had left his phone, and it was being bombarded from texts from Aaron, most of them saying something along the lines of, If you don't come to us, then we'll come to you. For that reason, we were hesitant about escaping upstairs,

but that hesitation changed once Jason pointed out something horrifying. Dude, the doors open. The door that he was referring to was the one that had been locked the first few times we tried opening it. I also noticed what was now the TV. It was us, Jason and I, both looking scared, seemingly being filmed behind a door that had been cracked open just slightly. We looked back towards the door in question, seeing a hand wrapped in barbed wire now, slithering its way out. In the meantime, Max's full upper body was through. We didn't want to go upstairs, but that choice evidently wasn't up to us.

We sprinted towards and up the stairs, locking and pushing a bed up against the door. our logic operated off of the idea that if the couch couldn't hold Max back, then a bed would, right? Luckily for us, there wasn't some additional demon waiting for us. However, we did happen to be in the room that contained the phone in the locked box. And that's where we've been ever since. I think we got a bit lucky, though. It sounded like Max and whatever had been hiding in the locked room came out at the same time and became preoccupied with each other. I called the cops just before getting out my phone and typing this out. It's been quiet for a while, now, but there's no way in hell that I'm going downstairs. Doesn't look like Jason wants to either. Looks like we'll just stay here for now. Update. The shadow figure is now outside our window, and we could hear stomping and laughing coming from the floor above us, even though I'm pretty

sure that there is no floor above us. This is going to be a long night. I used to love going for night drives, but I never want to do it again. My friend and I would go for night drives all of the time. Sometimes Jamie and I would find a spot where we could see the stars really well and just lie back on the hood of his car. Driving around at night, we've had some incredible conversations, and occasionally we see some really cool things. Driving is Jamie's thing. He loves it. Last night, Jamie was in an awful mood. He called me saying he needed to go for a ride and didn't want to be alone. But when he picked me up, he could barely talk to me.

He was speeding, but he's a good driver, so I wasn't concerned. We got pretty deep into the countryside, and I didn't recognize the area at all. We've been driving for a long time, though. At this point, it was just dirt roads and no street lights. I suggested we go back, but Jamie says he couldn't go home right now, so we kept going. A while later, we were driving through the wooded area, and Jamie pulled over to announce he had to go to the bathroom. Don't go too far, I told him. him. Jamie and I had explored enough forests at night, and I wasn't even slightly worried,

and I thought he'd be back right away. I was looking down at my phone, scrolling through Reddit for what felt like a really long time. I looked up to see if I could see Jamie heading back, and I thought I saw a person standing straight ahead, about 20 feet in front of me. I flashed the car lights just to make sure, and sure enough, a man was standing there staring at me. Once I flashed the lights, he started groaning, very loudly, and just kept staring. I immediately locked the car doors. We were in the middle of nowhere, and I hadn't seen another person or passing cars and ages. I called Jamie, but I could hear his phone ringing. He had left it in the car. My stomach dropped. There was no way it could take this long for him to go to the bathroom.

He should have been back by now. I started looking out the passenger window, looking for him. Making a silent deal with myself if he wasn't back in three minutes, I was going to call the police and drive away to somewhere safe. When I looked back straight ahead, I saw the man was only 10 feet away now, and instead of groaning, he was weeping, still staring very intensely at me. I decided to screw waiting three minutes and just take off, when Jamie reappeared. The man stopped weeping. I unlocked the door for Jamie and let him into the car.

Jamie looked super pale and very stone face. I started freaking out and screaming at him that we had to go, but he just sat there. Suddenly, a bunch of people covered in body paint emerged from the trees. I started crying and pleading with Jamie to start driving, but it was as if he couldn't hear me. The people set the man on fire. The man didn't make a noise, and the people started chanting. Jamie started howling with laughter. He then proceeded to turn the car around, and we drove away.

He was speeding faster than he had ever done before. I started to dial the police, but Jamie grabbed my phone. Don't call the police, or you'll be next. He then gave the phone back to me. After that, Jamie returned to being emotionless and refused to talk to me, but he was muttering a ton under his breath. I couldn't understand any of it, though. It didn't even sound English.

I was too petrified to say or do anything, and Jamie dropped me off. Since then, Jamie texted me every hour on the hour, saying, Do you want the fire to spread? I haven't responded to any of his texts yet. Something happened to Jamie in the woods. I'm sure of it. He sent me a new text a few minutes ago saying, Let's go for a drive.

I want to show you something. I don't know what to do. To start off, I'm not a believer in anything paranormal, magical, or voodoo, none of that. The extent of my creepy ghost-like or urban legend experiences, until now, had been through my friends. and most of them chalked it up to the usual.

It was a cougar fox scream, not a woman's. The wind did that. It was just a messed up homeless guy stalking me, and then left it at that. But I cannot logically explain to myself what I just witnessed in any terms other than saying it was unnatural at best, or terrifyingly unworldly at worst.

So this all happened just a few hours ago when I decided to do something different after work and take a hike by this little park my shop is by. I'm a mechanic. It's something my wife loves to do, and I decided to take some trails she likes to go on. Now, the thing about this park is it's basically just an oval,

some roads to look at the scenery, and a place to fish and dock boats in the lake nearby. But after that, it's mostly trails. The trails go out into the woods about 10 miles, and after that, it's about 1,000 acres of no man's land woods, and blind cliffs owned by the state. People get lost, go missing, all of the time because idiots think they can rough it. And my wife had her own stories of going off the trail for a second and getting instantly turned around.

In my college days, I used to do the same thing, but not anymore since I've had my fair share of getting scared after getting lost in places like that. It's by the grace of God I could always find my way back, but it's never a wise thing to do, even if you are confident in your navigation skills. I think you're getting the picture of the place that I would. was in. When I get there, I'm parked and I decided to take one of the relatively shorter routes, a two-mile trail, since it had been a while since I hiked the trails, and I didn't have any gear on me. Plus, it would be dark soon. I grabbed a map from my office right by the start of all the trails, on the off-chance I got lost, or something, and thank God I did. I was pretty confident that getting lost wouldn't be that big of a deal, since one of the longer trails, also a round trail,

about 10 miles made for camping on, went all the way around the parking lot, and my trail and my car being in the center of the whole thing. When in doubt, I could walk in any one direction and find it and get back home. So, starting off the hike, I wasn't worried, just ready to get some walking in, and then brag to my wife how I finally went out to see her favorite place. I'd say I was even excited. The weather was amazing. The wind was just the right speed, and I would have something to talk about. I'd say I got about a quarter mile in before things got a little weird. It wasn't that there was anything visibly off or anything, just that I started to feel uncomfortable, kind of like a nagging feeling in the back of my mind saying, you should probably leave.

I had already started and didn't really feel like turning around, so I kept going, looking at wildlife, enjoying the view when I could, and generally taking it slow. But that feeling never did go away. It was at the halfway point, at what my map said, was. the crest of the trail. That feeling got overwhelming. It was suffocating. Like my whole body wanted to just up and run out of that perfectly fine-looking trail, but I had already come so far, and there was no use in turning around since I was at the halfway point. I thought maybe I was just getting freaked out since I hadn't done it in a while, or maybe I was just having a

panic attack from all the stress I'd been under for the last few days. So I decided to sit down and take a breather to calm myself down. It didn't. Around five minutes into me flipping through my phone and reading some random Reddit stories, I noticed how quiet the woods had gotten. The air was completely silent. There was literally nothing. You ever hear the phrase, silence can be deafening? Well, in that moment it was so quiet I could hear my ears ring.

It hurt it was so silent, and it unnerved me to no end. So I did what any husband does. I called my wife for guidance. The conversation went something like this. at full speaker volume since I was so desperate to clear the air. David, what's going on? She knew something was up because I rarely ever called, even for emergencies. Hey, don't worry, I'm going to be a bit late since I decided I was going to hike that two-mile loop today.

But I had a question for you. What does it mean when the woods get like, suddenly quiet? She went silent for a bit, freaking me out more. Where are you on the trail? Like, how far in? About a mile. Why? I want you to get up and grab a big rock or a sharp, long stick, or something, and finish the trail as quickly as possible.

But don't run. It's quiet because there's a predator around, maybe a bear or a cougar, something big at least. I don't want to freak you out, but I want you to know that it probably already knows you're there. And if it's a cougar, it's probably been following you. Make it know you're there, and don't run. I'll drive up to the trail and meet you when you get out. She hung up before I could properly freak out. Rather than puking up my anxiety or running as fast as I could,

I got a stick, broke some of it off so it would be sharp and send a quick I love you thanks, text to my wife. Our house is close, so I knew she'd be there in about 15 minutes or so, but it didn't calm me down, not at all. For the next half hour, I'd slowed down to about a crawl as I looked around for whatever could be near me. All the while, the woods were still quiet. At this point, I was so angry,

I wanted to barf, and I might have, if I wasn't so paranoid that closing my eyes just for a second would alert whatever was making the wood so quiet attack. So I just went on, looking over my shoulder every few seconds and stopping to strain my ears to hear if there was anything walking around me. For a long stretch of time, there wasn't. Still no sound. Still no wildlife. Still nothing. Just my heart racing. But as I went on to the trail into some thicker parts of the wood, I began to notice how my footsteps seemed to echo ever so slightly. It was hardly noticeable, and had I not been so on alert, I wouldn't have even registered it, but once I heard it, it was deafening.

When I stopped to check behind me, though, there was nothing. At first, I thought I had just gotten so worked up that I was hearing things, that the quiet was messing with my head and my brain got bored, so I tried to ignore it, but after a while, I just couldn't. It was so unnerving that I started to play. with it. I'd quicken my pace ever so slightly, stop, go, go nearly into a full sprint, and every time, an almost perfectly in-time replica would follow. I hated every second of it. It felt so unreal that I could feel my body begging me to just book it, but I couldn't. If it really was a cougar, it'd get me.

So I tried one last effort to see if it was really in my head or not. I took a few normal steps and then acted like I was about to put my foot down before I stopped. just above the leaves, crunch. I had never gone so still in my life. I couldn't breathe as the sound of an extra footsteps echoed in my brain, and somehow I knew, just knew deep down despite never being involved in this type of stuff, that whatever was behind me was unnatural. For the longest time, I couldn't move,

and sure as hell didn't want to look behind me. I'm 5'3, and wouldn't last a second. After what must have only been a few seconds, Now that I think about it, I started walking again, faster this time. The echo admittedly didn't return, but I still had a suffocating sense of dread and terror pumping through my veins. I only had a quarter mile left to go, and I was sure ready to get out of that place. I wasn't any less scared than I was, but at least I had the solace of still being in one piece and getting one step closer to my wife. I thought it was all over at this point, and that it was just going to be a moment of me having a freak out moment and laugh about it tomorrow.

And, after being a few minutes of footstep free, and hearing my wife call my name a little ways up the trail, their relief washed over me had me thinking just that. I had been walking slow, slower than usual, so I wasn't even shocked that she had to come meet me on the trail. From the exit, it would only be about a 15-minute walk from her quick pace. She was the type of person to meet you if you were freaked out, even in the middle of nowhere. What else was I supposed to suspect? So, I keep walking, and hear her call me. me again. I reply with some, I'm coming, I'm here, I'm safe, keep on following the trail. There was

nothing that threw me off, not a single thing, so I just kept going. The only thing that I had even detected was off was that no matter how much further I got, her voice didn't get any louder. It was odd, but I thought maybe she was trying to lead me to the exit, or thought I went off the trail or something. And when I heard her voice subtly switched from in front of me to my left, Those suspicions were answered. At least they were for a split second. I was bleary from all that fear. I knew that. And when I remembered who was calling for me, I knew for a fact that that woman had learned her lesson on getting lost in the woods. The last time had nearly been over a year ago, and she was lost for a whole night. She didn't go hiking for a few months after that and was so shaken up and had to go to therapy for weeks because of it. She loved me, but she wouldn't go into the woods for me, not again. But what else could it be? So, for a second, I just listened, as her voice subtly got closer, still calling my name. The more I listened, the otter I noticed it was. It was the same. Every single time she said it, it sounded exactly the same. Same intonation, same speed, everything. No other words but my name,

none. And it kept getting closer. Hun, is that you? Answer me, yes or no. I don't know why I asked that. I honestly don't, but I'm sure as hell glad I did. For about a second, it had stopped. Back to the silence, and I thought my heart was going to implode from the anticipation. It nearly did when I heard the most curdling scream I had ever heard from a woman. It just kept going and going. There was only a stop, like for a gasp of air, but the sound never weakened or broke, like anyone in pain would. It was just an ongoing sound that would pause for a second and then just keep going. And in my panic, I booked it as fast as I possibly could, because all of the things I knew, and I didn't, that thing wasn't my wife. Running at the speed, I was in a hurry. I didn't even notice

I went off the trail, since they weren't well cleared this time of year, and I didn't know I was lost until I knew I shouldn't have been out in the woods, but I couldn't stop. I didn't want to turn around and run back because that thing was still screeching, and it still wasn't getting any closer to me. I could hardly see from the tears in my eyes as I just kept running, bolting until my legs were nearly about to collapse, and until my lungs felt like they were being pierced. I hadn't even gone a full five minutes before I had to stop, with that screeching still behind me. There was nothing I could do. I was in the middle of a gigantic forest. I had dropped my stick, and something that wasn't a cougar, a bear, or a fox was following me.

That 10-mile loop was at least a mile or two away from where I ran, and if that was my only bet, it would be dark by the time I found it. It didn't even matter, since I was so out of bruce. all I could do was hide. Since the trails themselves were getting pretty messy when they weren't all forest, I raced to find myself some rocks and ended up squeezing myself between them. Thinking back now, this was the stupidest thing I could have chosen to do, but in that moment, it was the best I had. I sat between those rocks, holding my breath, sweating up an anxious, smelly storm, as my bug eyes looked around to see what I could see from my hiding spot. The screaming never did stop, but the footsteps returned.

It was a very quiet, very subtle crunch, so predatory in nature. But I think the worst part of it all, the part that may never leave my mind, is that this thing's footsteps moved right behind me to the back end of the rock and totally covered me. That screaming never got any louder. Even when it was right behind me, the scream stayed the exact same volume, until, out of nowhere, it just stopped on a dime. I heard the footsteps explore around for a long, long time,

but eventually they two went far away and I couldn't hear them. I didn't dare leave my hiding spot for what I determined was about an hour, trembling and the light-headed as it got darker. When I finally pried myself out of the rock cheeks that saved me, for that moment, I walked as quickly as I could towards the 10-mile loop, hoping to find it and some campers before dark. I made it to the trail just after dark, exploring for two hours, and found a ranger cabin just a little ways from where I started on.

She had just been getting the missing person's call from my wife when I knocked on her door, pale as a ghost, scared. Before she took me back, which was thankfully a short drive on her four-wheeler, I asked if I could use her toilet and threw up more violently than I had ever had in my whole life. She didn't ask me what happened, just took me back, and on the whole way from the cabin to the parking lot, holding on to her a lot more tightly than someone with dignity should. I had a distinct feeling of being watched. My wife nearly sobbed when she saw me. Five hours later to the parking lot that I was meant to be,

the cops and the ranger checked over me and determined that though shaken up, I was fine. My wife and I left, and she pulled over into a nearby gas station to calm herself down. As she looked me over, utterly silent. I thought you had gotten attacked by a cougar or something, David. All I could say was, it wasn't a cougar. The silence that she gave me then,

the look on her face as she just stared at me will never leave my mind. Before she said freakier stuff that I could manage to describe what I had just been through, I know. I just got home about an hour ago, and I haven't spoken to my wife about it any further. We've just been quiet. I still have sticks in my hair, but I'm terrified to be alone. What did I just witness? This story takes place around a few years ago, when my dad left town for a business trip.

I've never told anyone this story, but I guess I now have. I used to live in a fairly wooded area, with about a two-story house in a small town in the United States. This house was kind of creepy, though. I don't know how to exactly describe it, but it's always just settling, after being there for maybe decades. If you really shut up and have no source of sound, you can hear a noise, like a muffled crack, with a drag that lingers a small amount too long for comfort. But the story's not about that house. It's about something even scarier. About five meters behind the house, it's nothing but forest for approximately three miles.

I'm one of those people who is just absolutely fascinated by the wilderness, but never likes going out. Knowing that my dad was out for a business trip, and he thought I was adult enough to stay out of trouble whilst he was gone. I tried changing my ways and decided to go into those woods. Little did I know, that would be the biggest mistake of my life. It was approaching the late evening when I embarked on my journey. I had a little caution in my step since I was deathly scared of mountain lions, snakes, coyotes, and the like. But as I went along some trails, I felt better and got more of a pep in my step.

I even got confident enough to hike a bit away from the trail. Thing is, I kind of ended up getting lost. I started to panic. I tried to find my way back to the trails. Being a coward and the sensitive teen child I was, Shaking in my sneakers was my first instinct. Mind you, I was only 15 at the time. I started to walk around, growing increasingly anxious.

The walking turned to running. The running turned to sprinting, and eventually the sprinting turned to sitting and crying. I was huddled up against a rock, knees to my chest, sobbing silently. This was it. These are going to be my last moments out here. I don't have the guts to get an animal,

and I wouldn't know how to light a fire. If it wasn't starvation, I'd definitely be taken by a vicious predator with malicious intent. It wouldn't be by natural causes, or in the military, or saving someone. No, I'd be gone because of my stupid decision to go off of the path. I started to think about what it would be like. Would I be reincarnated? Would I be in an empty void for nothing for all eternity?

Would I be with God in heaven until the end of time? And even if I went to heaven, would it be for the better? I was raised in a Christian household and raised to know heaven as a paradise. but there was something scratching at the back of my head. Maybe heaven wasn't a great place as it was chalked up to be. Stuck in my own thoughts, I slowly slipped into a deep sleep, scared and waiting for the inevitable. Maybe I would go in my sleep.

Hopefully it would be painless, except I woke up. It was late at night, but the worst part was, the ear-splitting screech that seemed to be a few feet away from me. The screech was just something incomparably terrifying. It sounded like a shriek. When you would hear from a woman that saw something scared, scary in a horror movie. But something was off. It sounded like a wounded animal at the exact same time. I don't know if whatever it was got the animal, or if that was the noise it just

made. I didn't want to stick around to find out. Fighter flight was activated. I jolted up and ran as fast as I could in whichever direction was opposite of the noise. Due to my panic state, I ended up running so fast I didn't look where I was going and tripped over a log. I face planted into the dirt. I didn't know what happened, other than I could taste the dirt and leaves in my mouth. I spat out what I could, and when I looked up, I was in shock. I was always a skeptic, but I always loved hearing about folklore and mythical beasts. I looked at the creature. Its eyes were sunking into its head. Its body withered to the point of amaciation, to where you could see the bones under its skin. Its body color was ash gray, lips tattered, its body emitting the

scent that which I could only describe as the fresh scent of decay. I just stared, and based on this thing's appearance, it was the face of a Wendigo. My body froze as I looked into its eyes. It had no eyes. That's what made me panic, staring into a horrifying creature that was just itching to tear me to shreds. I thought of my family. I never really liked them, but I wanted to see them. As I was thinking, I noticed that the Wendigo was already leaping towards me, and that's when I saw my short life flashed before my eyes. My elementary years, my family, middle school years. My family. My family. My My family was still all I could think of. I wasn't even supposed to be out there, and by some miracle, I was able to move.

I scrambled onto my feet, but I felt a sharp sting on my back. I didn't care. Adrenaline pumped through me. I ran faster than I thought humanly possible, and by some miracle, I guess it lost interest or something. Because after a while of running, I came across a trail with a few people trying to investigate the screech I heard a while back. Before I started running, they saw me, and they watched as I collapsed.

A wound in my shoulder and my shirt ripped. They asked if I was okay, as one of them patched my shoulder up with the bandages in their first aid kit. I explained what happened. Their original plan was to call an ambulance, but I'd hold them not to. It would be stupid. My family would scold me. No one would believe me, and I had a phobia of hospitals. And thinking about the creature, the Wendigo, made me think about death,

and knowing that there would be a lot of that in a hospital, I wouldn't be able to bear going. I'm not sure if they believe me, but they helped me to my house. I didn't feel safe there, though. I asked if they could escort me to my neighbors, which was maybe a few hundred meters away. It took me a bit to realize that this thing I felt, it may have been a claw, a claw from a wendigo. I didn't care.

I made it out alive. I made it to my neighbors safe, and I haven't had an incident yet. I'm still waiting. I feel like it will come back. It felt weird how it just left me alone. Knowing that, I didn't get too much sleep that night. It scares me to even think about the incident. And even now and then, I can hear the same screech, yet it's usually so quiet, so quiet to the point I can barely hear it, and it almost sounds like the cracks in my old house.

At the end of the street stands a house that is older than most of the houses in our town. It's worn down and weathered, and no one has resided there in over a decade. To the locals, it's known as the widow's house, because the old lady that lived there, years ago, lived there alone. Her husband died at a young age. He was a fisherman, lost at sea. Growing up, we were told to stay away from that house because it was a death trap. Inside, the walls were falling down due to rot, and the ceiling was water-stained and full of mold. So it was understandable why our parents didn't want their children playing around inside. If you ask some of the elders in the town, you would get a different story. You would be told

the story about the missing children and how they're disappearing. appearance was somehow linked to that house. The elders would say that the widow lured the children into her home because she was lonely and wanted company, and when the children would try to leave, she would kill them. I asked my parents about this story, and they ensured me that the wise tales that the elders made up were to scare the children to stay away from that house. Even if the stories about the missing children aren't true, I still get chills whenever I walk by that house. There's something unnatural about that house, something dark, and I think if the walls of that house could talk, they'd have some real

nightmares to tell. When I was 12, my friends and I were up late playing spotlight on a Saturday night. We were playing in the backyard, and it was just about midnight, and we were starting to get bored. Just as we were about to call it a night and go home, one of my friends came up with a brilliant idea that we break into the widow's house and explore inside. One of the guys in the group tried to convince us that this was a bad idea and our parents would find out and get mad if they caught us being there. Being young and stupid though, we chose to go against our better judgment. We walked up the street, and as we got closer, the moon was illuminating down perfectly on the house. From a distance, you could easily distinguish the worn-down place, and there was no denying that it was abandoned.

As we got closer, I started to feel this uneasy feeling go down my spine. I was convinced that the rest of the group did too, but we were all too afraid to admit it because we didn't want to risk being made fun of. We were now standing in front of the house, waiting for one of us to work up enough courage to open the garden gate. The gate was once iron, but you wouldn't be able to tell now with all of the rust and corrosion. I put one hand forward to try to seem brave enough to impress my friends. I slowly pushed the gate open with my left hand, and as I did, the gate let out a creaking noise that made us all jump. We all look at each. other and burst out into laughter. I have to admit, that very moment I was petrified

with fear, but I couldn't let it show. Maybe it was because it was the dead of night, but then again, the place scared the crap out of me in broad daylight too. We started to walk into the front garden, huddled close to one another. We were now at the front door, and all I could think about was the stories that the elders used to tell us. The door was stiff and hard to open. The hinges were old and needed to be oiled, but we managed to push it open far enough for all of us to squeeze in through and into the entrance. We were standing now inside the house foyer for the first time. Once inside, I thought to myself it wasn't as bad as I imagined, and that it was like any other house, minus the rotten walls and damp smell. One of my

friends turned on the flashlight that we had been previously using for our game of spotlight. With the push of a button, the room was now full of light. We started to explore the house, and we noticed everything was left in place. When the widow died, no one packed up her belongings because she didn't have any living relatives to do so. Thinking of this made me sad for the widow, because one thing the elders got right was that she must have been lonely.

Even at 12 years old, the thought of living alone for years on end made me depressed. Deep in my stomach, I felt sympathy for the widow. She lived inside these walls and would never go outside, mostly because our town and their rumors forced her into a life of isolation. When we reached the upstairs, my friends made their way into one of the many bedrooms,

and at this point, I was feeling more comfortable being in the house, and got bold and headed into one of the other rooms. When I walked into the room, I knew instantly it must have been the master bedroom, her bedroom. It was big for an older home. The moonlight shined through the window, giving me enough light to see around the room. Near the entry of the room, there was a large walk-in closet, and there, still hanging on the racks, was some of the widow's close. Most of her items were still on hangers, while the rest now were on the floor, covered in dust, forgotten in time.

I continued poking around the room, trying to find something that would give me a better indication about her life. I wanted to find something that gave me a better understanding of the life she lived, alone. Then I saw it, there, on the edge of the window ledge, a candle, or what was left of it. The elders used to say that the widow would light up a candle in her upstairs bedroom window every night, in hopes that it would guide her husband, who was lost at sea home. My own grandmother told me that there wasn't a night that went by, that there wasn't a candle burning in the window. This was a tradition that most fishermen wives would do

when their husbands were out at sea fishing. As I stood there taking in this scene, I felt a cold shiver go down my spine, and for a moment I felt like all the air in the room was sucked away. I gasped for breath and found myself unable to catch it. Then the cold dissipated and I was able to breathe again. I convinced myself that anxiety and panic got the best of me, and it wasn't until I was older that I realized what it could have actually been.

The sound of a squeaky floorboard in the stairs pierced through the silence of the house. It was one of the sounds you would hear when someone was walking up or down the stairs. Panic started to set in again because I thought that my friends were sneaking off without me as part of some stupid prank. I rushed out of the bedroom and made my way to the stairs landing. Only there wasn't anyone there. I listened for a moment, and everything was deafening silent again. I yelled out, real funny guys, in which one of my friends replied, What's funny?

From the bedroom at the end of the hall. The hairs on the back of my neck started to stand. I realized that none of my friends had gone downstairs, but then re-insured myself that the house is old, and probably just did that. I made my way down to the bedroom that they were all hanging out in. I could hear them laughing. When I got to the room I asked them what's so funny, but before anyone could answer, I saw one of my friends was wearing an old-fashioned bonnet. I told them to knock it off and put the bonnet back where they found it.

I then told them that it wasn't funny, rather disrespectful to touch stuff that isn't theirs, especially when the person is gone. As my friend was putting the bonnet back, I heard it again, the sound of someone on the stairs, only this time we all heard it. A lump started to form in my mouth and I tried to speak up, but my voice was. Then one of my friends bawled out. Who's there? All of us waited for someone to reply. I think we were all hoping it was one of our parents coming to scold us for staying out too late,

and for coming to the house when they all told us not to. We waited for what seemed like hours for a reply that never came. One of my friends said that it was getting late and that they should go home before the sun came up. We all nodded in agreement and started to walk towards the stairs, although it was a little faster than a walk. As we got to the stairs, we all froze. in place. The door at the opposite end of the hallway started to slowly creak open. None of us

wanted to hang around to see who or what opened the door, so we started to rush down over the stairs. We were all almost at the bottom when there was a crashing noise behind us. When I turned around, one of my friends had fallen through the rotten stairs. Half his body still above, the other half in the hole. The group of us rushed to his aid and quickly hauled him out of the hole he had fallen through. We then quickly started running towards the front door, Before we left the house, I took one last look behind me, and I swear I saw her there, standing at the top of the stairs, looking at us. I didn't stop to take a second look. I just squeezed my way through the door and back to the front yard, pushing the door close as I got out.

We started to run away from the house as quickly as possible, but my friend that had fallen through the stairs was limping. Myself and one of my other friends ran back, and between the both of us, we managed to help him move quickly. We ran through the gate that was once iron and started to head down the street to the safety of my house. One of my friends stopped and turned around to face the house and slowly lifted his left hand and extended his index finger to point back toward the widow's house. As he did this, we all saw why, rather what he was pointing at. There, in the upstairs window, in the room that I was standing in ten minutes prior to this, the candle's flame was flickering in the window. The next day was the first day in my life that I was grounded. My parents had found out that my friends and I had gone to the house that they told us to stay away from.

They wouldn't have found out, only my friend who went through the stairs had to explain to his mother how he broke his ankle. Thinking back on that night, however, we were thankful that was the worst thing to happen in that house, when it could have gone entirely different. Flash forward 15 years later, that house still stands at the end of my street, Despite multiple storms and weathering, the house refuses to fall. I personally believe that evil keeps it together. The elders who once told us stories about the widow have all passed, leaving behind another generation to tell the stories in their place.

I felt like my parents, every time I tell my own kids to stay away from the house, only I don't tell them about the mold and the falling down walls. I'm honest with them, and I tell them about the night I saw the widow. I guess I should start somewhere at the beginning. You see, this house is also the house my father grew up in with his parents, and my grandfather grew up in with his parents. I'm not sure how many generations this house has belonged to my paternal family, but this house is old.

It's a three-story house, stood alone, and across the road from an even older church in a small village about three or four miles from the nearest big town. I did not grow up in this house. My father despised this place. Out of the very long list of things he detested, this house was up there in the top five. That's why I'm so surprised he moved into it after he and my mom divorced.

He always said that he would rather live on the streets than return there. When both his mother and father died, the house was naturally left to him. The only child of an only child. My dad wasn't just an only child, but a very lonely one. His father was, quite frankly, disinterested in him, and his mother was nothing short of vile to him. So, when they died, and all that was left was the house, I expected my dad to either demolish it or sell it.

He said that it would cost too much to renovate the place to make it suitable to live in, and too much to turn into rubble. Now, my dad had a lot of demons trapped in his head. He would drink himself into oblivion, in a vain hope to forget his childhood, to no avail. He was really very sad to witness. He had a good, well-paying job at a manufacturer, company as head of the engineering department, and my mom worked out of a doctor's practice,

often working nights. They were two passing ships in the night, and unfortunately, it was me that had to take care of dad when he was too drunk to take care of himself. My mom knew nothing of his drinking problem, and to this day she still doesn't know the full extent of it all. They divorced when I was I never stayed overnight with my dad. He wouldn't allow it. He would always tell my mom that he would take me out for the day, but he couldn't let me into the house. So naturally, our relationship thinned. By the time I was 23, our relationship consisted of drunken phone calls at ridiculous hours, and me, talking him off the edge of whatever rim he was close to throwing himself off of. I'd had enough. I was pregnant with my oldest child, single, in a two-bedroom house. The last thing I needed

was to be a parent to my parent, on top of the tiny human totally dependent on me. So, I told him, everything he put me through, I didn't deserve it. I hated him for it, hated him more than he hated that house, and to not contact me again unless he got sober. He had progressively gotten worse over the years, you see. He went from a binge drinker, to a high-functioning alcoholic, to a regular alcoholic, and drinking away his redundancy in life savings. That was the last time I spoke to him.

He died a little over six months ago by his own hands. I cannot express how awful I feel now. I wish I had reached out to him when my son was born, and again when my daughter was born three years later, and the last year when I got married to the love of my life. I wish he could have shared in my happiness and been a grandfather. He was found after one of his many girlfriends couldn't get a response from him. He had only been dead three days and was found,

empty whiskey bottles strewn all over the house, stained with vomit, and God knows what else. He had a small funeral with only three guests, including the priest. He had his grave next to his parents in the graveyard at the church at the end of the street. The first I knew about it was when I got a phone call from a solicitor. I was the only beneficiary in his will, and I got the house. He had nothing else to leave me. What money he had left paid off his debts and funeral. I really, really didn't want to move here. It was my husband who convinced me. We were living in my small, two-bedroom house that I had been living in since I

felt pregnant the first time around. We had been saving as hard as possible to buy a house instead of renting, but it was proving to be difficult. We have two kids together who share a room and had no backyard at all. The house would be perfect for us. It took a while, but eventually I had to agree. The village wasn't too far from the town for school for the kids. We both drove, no mortgage or rent. far out for us to still get to work with minimal hassle. And I thought, maybe a way of making some kind of peace with my dad. We first came there to see the house. It was bare. Everything had been removed, by who I couldn't tell you. A raging alcoholic he may have been, but the old man was still an engineer at heart. Maybe he hadn't drank all of his savings. It looked

like a show home when we first stepped foot inside. Although cold and dusty, and in need of a good cleanup. The floor was hardwood throughout the downstairs with a large open-plan living room, with beautiful patio doors that opened up into a large, though unkept garden, with high walls for privacy. The second floor has three ample-sized bedrooms and a modern bathroom, and on the third floor there was a master bedroom and an in-sweet bathroom. It truly does look beautiful and the perfect family home, even before we cleaned it up. We've been here officially two weeks. We spent a month cleaning and moving things in. The money we had saved ourselves we used to decorate and lay carpets. The carpets I insisted for the living room. Thankfully,

the kids didn't notice in their excitement. But there, in the middle of the living space, was a strikingly big, brownish-red stain set against the dark wooden floor. You'd be forgiven for thinking that it was just a watermark on the wood, but I knew immediately what it was. That is where my dad was found, where he spent his final moments. I didn't want a constant reminder of that staring me in the face. Even placing a decent-sized rug wouldn't cover it. You think that it would be enough for me to hightail it straight out of there. But by this point, we had nowhere left to go.

My mom couldn't take us all in. She simply just didn't have the space. We had already signed off on the house that we had been living in, waiting to move in at the end of the month. I can't believe I've been this stupid. Everything has told me not to come here. Every instinct, every sign. and yet here I sit on my patio, phone in one hand, and gin in the other, letting it all out onto

the ether of the internet. To make matters worse, my husband had offered a new job, one that requires him to be away for up to six weeks at a time. The money is too good to pass up, but I don't want to be here alone. He's packing his bags to fly out tomorrow afternoon. In the two weeks since I've been in this house, so much yet so little has happened. The first day we arrived, ready to get comfortable and spend our first night. No less than six birds flew straight into our patio doors and broke their necks. We put it down as us not having anything up in the doors to inform the birds that there was an invisible barrier there. Now I'm taking this as warning sign number one. The same night, I woke up because a faceless someone was screaming

in my ear. I put it down as a nightmare at the time. Now I'm thinking it as warning sign number two. Three days passed without much incident. Maybe the odd bump in the night, or the sound of a door creaking shut upstairs, but nothing that couldn't be explained anyway. On day four, I had a long soak in the bath. I went to put my wedding ring back on afterwards to find that they weren't where I had left him at the sink. I found them on day six under my dresser. Every day something happens. My wedding photo has gone missing. My favorite perfume has vanished too. I constantly feel like I'm being watched. All the time, the hairs on the back of my neck tingle and radiate down my back. I keep seeing black shadows in the dark corners of the house. I blink and they're gone.

Doors are left open when I know I shut them and vice versa. Specifically, the built-in wardrobe in our bedroom is always ajar. Even when I know, as a fact, I close it until it clicks several times every day. Today has been the worst. I'm not sleeping well at all. I always feel on edge and uneasy. I'm snapping at the kids and my husband. The final straw came after putting the two little ones to bed. I came out of my daughter's bedroom when something caught my eye. I don't know what it was. I can't explain it. It looked like a person, but not. All I remember is two electric blue eyes and then falling. It almost felt like I was floating on top of invisible water. If it wasn't for the tightening in my stomach, it would have been a pleasant feeling. There was a white flash in my eyes and a searing pain

shot through my entire head. I felt the blood rushed into my face and heard a ringing in my ears just before the very breath was forced from my lungs as the back of my rib cage landed with force against the cast iron banister at the bottom of the staircase with a nice goose egg forming at the back of my school and bruised back. I rubbed the bright spots from my eyes and looked back up to the top of the staircase and there was nothing there, nothing at all, and I still had the sense that I was being stared at. Apparently I screamed and my husband came running to find me in a heap, clutching the back of my head. The kid started crying because they heard their mom screaming so loud. They're asleep now after my reassurance that I'm fine.

I haven't told my husband about the eyes. He found a bright red, very unmissable toy car at the bottom of the stairs and told me to be more careful after handing me a water and some ibuprofen. The toy car was not there. I know it wasn't. But I can't disprove it, can I? And how would I sound to him if I told him everything I've felt and seen. Most, if not all, can be explained by using logic and science. I misplaced my rings. I may not have unpacked the wedding photo. My perfume is probably just hidden amongst our daughter's little treasures.

And I tripped over the toy car, obviously. But those eyes. Those eyes that I feel are the eyes that are always watching. I can't get them out of my head. My mom is visiting tomorrow and taking both the children away for holiday, as the school is broken up for Easter break. then I will be alone. As of 4 p.m. tomorrow, I will be truly alone in this heap of wood and stone and glass.

At least I think I'll be alone. No, I will be. I will be. I just need to document everything, so I know I can read it back to make sense of it all. What am I going to do? This story recollects what happened during the Navajo Nation fair season of 2015. My roommate and her boyfriend decided to head back to the reservation to take part in the festivities, rodeo, parade, and carnival. My roommate was the offspring of divorced parents

and spent her teenage years half on the reservation in Window Rock, Arizona, with her mother, and half with her father in Phoenix. She was raised as a devout Catholic, even attending Catholic school. Nothing paranormal had ever occurred in her life up until this point. Her boyfriend was an urban Navajo,

who was a Christian, having been born and raised off the reservation in Phoenix, Arizona. I am to clarify their religious ideologies and affiliations because neither of them believed in Navajo traditionalism or ghost stories. Late one evening, after both of them got off work, they decided to head out to make the most of their three-day weekend. My roommate made prior accommodations with a good friend from high school. When my roommate was a young adult, her mother decided to move away from the res.

If her mother still lived in Window Rock, she would have simply stayed there. The accommodations were as follows. Her good friend opted to stay close to relatives and offered her a two-bedroom two-bath manufacturer at home at her disposal. The trailer was located off the road between St. Michael's and the first four-way intersection when you are heading towards Window Rock from Summit. Many have called it the back road to St. Michael's,

the old original township of St. Michael's, that is. As you can imagine, they arrived to their Navajo Fair B&B pretty late. The trailer was off to the right of the main highway and was situated at the foot of a large rolling hill. There was no street lights. First order of business, my roommate calls her friend to let her know they arrive safely. They walk up to the trailer and unlock the door and give themselves a tour of their accommodations. They turned on all the lights in every room they toured. My roommate had driven the entirety of the journey home, so she was a bit more fatigued than her partner.

She asked him to get the luggage from the car. It was a hatchback. The car was parked about 40 feet away. She explained to me that it had rained some weeks before, and the dirt road leading up to the house was wrecked. To avoid bottoming out, she parked on level ground. She walks into the guest room and her boyfriend is already laid out on the bed. She pleads with him to go get the luggage, and most importantly, her makeup bag,

so she can remove her makeup before bed. She compromises with them that she'll go out with him if he does the heavy lifting. She doesn't want to put her heels back on, so she decides to watch him from the porch. Yes, heels. She worked at a bank and always had to dress professionally, in a pantsuit and heels. So she is standing on the top stair of the small three-stair porch,

with the front door slightly ajar, her hand on the doorknob. Her boyfriend walks off into the pitch black. The light from his phone serves as the only beacon of light, signaling his location. As she watches as light grow dimmer and smaller in the distance, She hears what seems to be a pack of dogs howling and barking. She said it sounded like a rumble, a pack of feral dogs or coyotes fighting.

The pack of dogs come barreling down the large hill behind the trailer. She hears a loud thud against the back wall of the trailer. The thud was so loud that she heard the rattling of picture frames that were hanging. At this point, fear begins to creep in her mind. She calls out to her boyfriend and hears no response. She shouts for him once again. That's when she realizes the dogs have all gone. silent all at once in a fluid succession of motions. She said that something from

inside her trailer slams the front door so fast that it creates a gust of wind. She said that if she had been holding onto the doorknob it would have knocked her off the landing off the front steps. The porch light flickers and then goes dead. She is standing there barefoot in the darkness. She tries to open the door and retreat back into the trailer. She was able to turn the doorknob until it clicked. The door wasn't locked. Something heavy. was pressed up against the flimsy manufactured hollow cord door from inside. At this point, she said she didn't realize she was crying at the brink of an anxiety attack. Adrenaline took over

her and she began throwing herself and all of her weight against the door. She saw it inch open, and the light from inside flooded the doorway for a split second before it slammed shut in retaliation. Fight or flight. She decides to run barefoot into the darkness to find her boyfriend. His account. He leaves his girlfriend at the top of his time. He leaves his girlfriend at the top of the front door steps as he walks off into the dark with only his phone serving as a flashlight. He's being very careful where he steps because the earth is turned up and twisted and gnarled. Deep ruts and grooves from a vehicle driving in the mud before it hardens into crust. He is afraid he might twist his ankle.

He too hears the frenzied howls and barks of the dogs. He turns around to look at where the sounds are coming from. In the distance, he sees the faint light of the porch go off. He rationalizes to himself that the barking dogs frightened his girlfriend and in fear she ran inside and unintentionally turned off the porch light. He continues walking in the direction of the car. He hears a thud of a heavy footsteps behind him, mimicking his own stride, not exactly in tune with his, following a split second after his own thud, almost echoing intentionally. Figuring it might be his frightened girlfriend running out to him, he calls out to her to no avail. He sees a dim flicker in the distance,

The light from his phone bouncing off the reflectors of the taillights of the car. His body floods with relief. The relief quickly drains to despair. His phone erratically stops working and won't turn on. His heartbeat almost beats out of his chest. How could this be? He wasn't on his phone the entire drive back. It was fully charged.

He takes a few urgent paces towards where the car was before the lights turned off. His palms are sweaty and he swears he could feel his heart pounding through his hands. He desperately reaches into his pockets for his car keys. He begins frantically pressing all of the buttons, the lock, unlock, panic, and open hatchback buttons. Nothing. He even stretches out his hands in the dark as pressing the buttons thinking that he is on the cusp of the electronic radius of the vehicle to respond. Still nothing.

The footsteps behind him hastened and almost sounded like he was going to be charged from the back. He is too terrified to look back. At this point he realizes the dread that he feels in the pit of the, his stomach means it's something unnatural. His shoulders drop as he instinctively braces for some sort of impact. The sound of heavy footsteps would indicate that he would have been hit by now. Nothing. The footsteps loudly led directly up to him, to his heels, and nothing. He opens his eyes and hears something like a coin drop and hit the top of his car. He turns around to the patter of bare feet on the dirt road.

His girlfriend charges into him, full embrace, hugging him. Mind you, his feet stayed planted. He doesn't take one step forward or back. The car keys are still in his hands. His thumb presses down. A loud click. The familiar sound of the hatchback opening and the lights from inside the car quickly floods their immediate surroundings. They grab their luggage and a pair of flip-flops from the car and slowly make their way back to the trailer. Oddly, the front porch light was on now. My roommate makes her boyfriend go inside and check all of the rooms before she goes back in. He opens the door with ease. He checks each room meticulously, there is no one inside. All of the windows still locked from the inside.

I have never retold this account to anyone, but thought I would finally share it before time and life erases the details from my memory. Once in the safety of their trailer, her boyfriend pulled out his cell phone and turned it on to the exact same battery percentage. They corroborate their experiences to recount what happened to each other. Both of them are dumbfounded at the fact that they were shouting at the top of their lungs for each other at one time or another, but neither of them said they heard the others yelling. Growing up on the res, you hear your fair share of Skinwalker and Ghost Stories, but this was the first time I heard one where the perpetrator manipulated electronics,

to a great extent, or even at all. It was also the first case where the perpetrator manipulated sound waves. Both of them swore that they were easily an earshot of each other, but weren't allowed to hear each other's cries. There were no structures or trees between them. obstructing the sound waves. He had heard the pack of dogs, but wasn't allowed to hear her screaming out for him. What also spurred me is that this massive amount of questioning from some Reddit users, if they exist, why haven't they been filmed or caught on camera? Skin

Walkers are just as modern as you and me. Wicked as much as they may be. They are not stupid to deal with smartphones and technological advances as much as anyone. They walk the world as normal people during the day. This is an experience my mom and dad had that happened in December of 2018. They were coming back from dining out and pulled over in the driveway and parked. The area where they live is moderately wooded in a large plot of land, about 20 acres. They got out of their car and started walking up to the door when they heard a blood-curdling scream coming from only 10 feet away from them. Not only was the scream terrifying, but it was extremely loud. My dad is a state trooper and served in the U.S. Marine Corps, so not much actually scares him. He's the guy to watch

a horror movie at 3 a.m. with all the lights off and the curtains open. However, that night, he said he was genuinely terrified. They snapped out of their trance and ran inside. He came back out with his gun and his patrol car and started checking around the area. He shined his spotlight down into the pasture and around the property, but couldn't find anything. The fact that he did this was alarming because he would never pull out a gun if he was joking. I've only ever actually seen him pull out a gun two other times in my life. Only about a week after I came home from college for winter break, I sat on the porch late one evening drinking coffee. It was pretty cold, and I was reading a book when I heard something eerie coming from the pasture to the east of my

house. It sounded like creaking, but there was no wind blowing, and I know the area clearly, and there wasn't a hanging branch or anything for that matter that would just have. the sound. Even though it creeped me out, I refused to think anything of it and brushed it off as strange, but explainable. Thoroughly chilled, I stopped reading my book because of bad lighting and went inside. After a while, I found I forgot my book outside and went out to grab it. This time, I heard a low, poor howl. The only canine creatures that live in this place are coyotes. And when you hear them, it's a mixture of yips and short, pitchy howls. Hearing it and having my fears proved, that it was some other worldly being.

I grabbed my book and ran inside. About 20 minutes later, my brother comes home from a friend's house. He walks in and doesn't say anything other than, hey. I tell him about what I experienced. To my surprise, he said he heard the exact same thing just a couple minutes earlier when he was walking inside. The sound had moved from its previous location southwest of my position and was now to the northwest corner of the property.

He said the sound was long, deep, but poor or weak. Kind of like the one I heard. My brother seemed more spooked with his encounter than I did with mine. He said that the duration was so long, and then just sounded very fake, like a poor imitation. After that, there wasn't any more sightings the entire time I was home. It's since been ruled out as a deer, since we have a lot of them, and they don't make strange noises like that. But after reading through Reddit, I feel like this may be a skin walker issue, or something of the sort. We do live near a spot where Native Americans,

hold their rituals, and there is a house in our neighborhood that was built on a Native American burial ground, so it wouldn't be a surprise to me that this may be the case. I have experienced other strange sounds and being whistled at in the dark, but no sightings so far. Back when I was 15, I picked my younger brother up from elementary school every day, and we would bus home together. We had to transfer two times, and this happened at the second transfer. One day, I saw an old Caucasian man, get onto the bus after us. He looked around 60 years old with white hair, and he was really

big. Since there was no seats available, I stood up to offer my seat for him, and he gave me a smile and thanked me, and I thought nothing of it. After a few minutes, I noticed he was still staring at me with a smile, and at the time, I thought he just appreciated

the fact that I gave up the seat for him. After another while, I started to get uncomfortable, because I was noticing how intently he was looking at me. Once again, I tried to reason that maybe he had a mental illness, or was just slow because of his age. I took my brother by the hand, and we moved toward the back of the bus. By the time our stop arrived, the bus was pretty empty. My brother and I exited, and we started to walk in the direction of our apartment. It was only a few feet away from the bus stop. I was pretty paranoid from earlier,

so I turned around to check if anyone had followed us off the bus. I saw the old man walking in our direction, and I internally panicked. I reasoned with myself that maybe he lived in that area too, and it was just a coincidence that he was walking in this direction, so I kept walking towards the gate of our apartment. My brother and I got to the gate, and I was digging in my backpack for my keys. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked up to see the old man smiling at me. I didn't know how to react, so I just said hi, and kept looking for my keys while I had my eyes on him. By that time I was really creeped out because his stare was really intense. He said thanks for giving your seat to me and he asked me if I wanted to go for lunch so he could thank me. In my head,

all I could think was that it was around 4 p.m. so why would he want to go to lunch? I quickly declined, shoved my brother past the gate and slammed it behind me. The old man just kept smiling and staring as I looked back and I was glad that I was able to escape from him. A few days passed and I thought nothing more of the incident. Then one day, I saw him again at the bus stop. I tried to stand as far away as possible and tried not to look in that direction. The bus stop was a busy one, so there was always a line of people. I could feel him staring at me, and I remember just wishing that the bus would come faster, so I could get away. We got onto the bus, and I could still see him smiling, as he stared at me out of the corner of my eye. I tried to keep my attention on the book I was reading,

and not let it bother me. When our stop came, my brother and I quickly got off the bus and spedwalk to the gate. I turned around to check if the old man had followed us off the bus and was immensely relieved that he didn't. I looked at the bus as it drove past

and I remember seeing him by the window seat, just staring at me. Then, for the next few weeks, he just kept showing up at the same bus stop. Sometimes I see him sitting by the ledge when he sees us. He gets in line for the bus. Sometimes he tries to go up to me

and initiate conversation. I always ignore him the best I could and kept my brother on the opposite side of him with me in between. I was also immensely glad that I lived in an apartment so he didn't know exactly where we lived. I never told my parents about it, and although I contemplated telling someone that was in line,

or me calling the police, I never did. I thought that staring wasn't really a crime, and he didn't really do anything besides try to initiate conversations. Plus, there wouldn't be any evidence I also thought that because he was an old man, he couldn't do much to harm me, and maybe he was just lonely. I tried to put up with it the best I could and stayed as far away from him as possible.

I also couldn't take another bus because the bus didn't come often, and we had to go to extracurricular activities afterward. One day, he initiated conversation again and started telling me that he was a rich man. He showed me the gold chains around his neck and the gold rings around his finger. I was mildly offended that he thought that this would make me want to talk to him. So my brother and I went to a nearby supermarket to try to avoid him and take the next bus. I thought that he would just give up and take the bus so I didn't see him when I got back. Except he followed us into the supermarket. I walked through a few aisles and tried to lose him.

After I couldn't see him anymore, I decided to buy my brother a treat to calm him down. We headed up to the cashier's area and lined up. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder and saw the old man with a $20 bill in his hand. He offered to pay, and I said no thank you. I think he just said okay and just walked out. I didn't see him afterwards at the bus stop and thought maybe he took the hint that I wasn't interested in doing anything with him. Luckily, this happened a month or two before summer break,

so I didn't have to take the bus route anymore. I also didn't have to go to extracurricular activities, so my brother and I took a different bus this time. Fast forward a year, I was walking my brother to summer school every day during the summer. On that route, we walked past a subway stop. One day we saw the old man at the subway. We quickly walked away hoping he didn't see us, but he must have saw us, because every day after that, he was sitting outside that subway stop.

He didn't try to initiate conversation, but he was always staring intensely at me from afar. I started getting nightmares of him kidnapping me or taking a knife to me and threatening me. After a week or so, my brother and I took a different route to school. I didn't see him again until last year, so around six years from the initial time I met him, I saw him at the bus stop on my way to university, and my heart automatically started beating faster, and my hands became clammy. He must have saw me because he smiled and stared at me without blinking again. Luckily, since my classes aren't a set schedule, he wasn't able to lurk at the bus stop again waiting for me. I still see him on rare occasion at the bus stops around where I live, but for the sake of my sanity,

old man, let's not meet again. It was supposed to be a nice break from the real world, a getaway to my cabin in the mountains for a few days to collect myself after the awful past few months. I bought my property from some old miners who had run the mountain dry. The cabin they had built only needed some minor improvements, and the remains of their fruitless mines made for some cool features to show friends. The big mine near the cabin couldn't even be called a mine, as they had essentially blown open the entrance to a cave wide enough to get tools inside. The night before I was going to head back, the largest rainstorm in a century hit. All roads leading back to civilization were flooded, and there was no chance my crappy car could hope to make it through. I wasn't too upset about

it, just thankful I still had enough food to last me another few days. The truly awful part was that the shoddy power system I made had gone out, and my phone had died long ago. I needed to wait a while for the solar panels to charge, so I decided to make the best out of a bad situation. The rain had made the woods truly beautiful, and I still had around a dozen Polaroids to use in my camera. The walk was truly amazing. The rain had made the green in the forest even more vibrant, and the canopy had provided enough cover that I wasn't soaking wet. The only problem I ran into was the insane amount of broken branches on the trail. I knew the storm had been bad, but in my years of owning this cabin, I had never seen this amount of clutter pile up in such a short time.

I had no idea how so many branches below the canopy had broken. I had been walking for a few hours before it started to get dark, and I decided to head back. I suddenly came up with the bright idea to take a photo of myself to commemorate the time I got rained out in the mountains. I turned on the flash and timer, setting my camera down on a nearby rock, and backed up a few feet. The only thing I heard before hitting the ground was the crack of wood splitting. Something had hit me in the head. Hard. Still dazed, I tried to figure out what had just happened, but whatever hit me didn't give me the chance. It grabbed my ankle, rolling me onto my stomach and raising my leg into the air.

There was a sudden blinding light, and everything stopped. I heard the Polaroid eject from the camera and softly land on the ground. I laid there for a minute, praying for the ringing in my head to subside. It took me a while to wrench my ankle free from the thing's hand and sit up. The person, monster, whatever it was, was just standing there, frozen. After the ringing in my head started to go away, I finally started to comprehend what I was looking at. It looked like a human, but the proportions were all. wrong. It was too skinny, to the point where I could see every rib, bone, and tendon. The skin

was taut, gray, and wet. One hand was open, palm facing towards the camera as if it was trying, pointlessly to hide its face, if you could call it a face. Its head looked mangled, dented, and bumpy, as if a child had tried to mold a human skull out of clay. The eyes were the only part that resembled a human, although they looked empty somehow. The monstrile had a piece of my calf between its pointed teeth. I had no idea what this thing was, but I figured that the flash from the camera had somehow stunned it. I got up to grab the camera, but the pain from my leg shot through me. I had to grab a stick off the ground to balance on as I stumbled to the rock. I saw out of the corner of my eye that it was moving. It was so

slow that I could barely tell, but its outstretched hand was definitely moving towards the camera. I wasn't about to let it destroy the only way I could defend myself. Pushing myself through the pain, I grabbed the camera and started back along the trail towards my cabin. If I could only make it back there, I had some old hunting gear that could maybe kill it. I don't know how long I had been walking. My bad leg and the cluttered trail made it painfully slow to traverse, and I tripped any time I tried to speed up. I counted four remaining Polaroids, but I was more concerned about the flash.

I needed to make sure nothing damaged it, or I would be as good as dead. I noticed some landmarks saying I was about halfway back to my cabin when I heard the branches breaking behind me. I ducked off to the side of the trail and looked up at the trees. I saw a dark shape swing past me, moving faster than I could comprehend. It only made it a couple yards past me before it stopped, crouched up on a branch, searching, for me. I readied my camera, pointing it at the creature in case it leapt at me.

We stayed like that for some time, so long that it got dark enough I could barely see it. The rain clouds had covered up the moon, drowning the woods in oppressive darkness. I would have had no idea it was there, had it not been for the faint glow from its eyes, replacing the emptiness I had seen in them before. I nearly jumped out of my skin when it finally left, clambering onto other branches. I waited for a minute, making sure it was gone before stepping back onto the trail. I had taken a few steps when I heard something dropped behind me. I turned as fast as I could, Polaroid ready, and took another photo.

It was just a stray branch, broken by the storm. I breathed a sigh of relief before realizing how grievous this mistake was. I had just told the creature exactly where I was. I tried to run down the path, but I could already hear the approach of cracking wood. I backed up against a tree, aiming my Polaroid up in preparation. It landed on a branch above me, crawling down the opposite side of the tree to stay out of sight. I crawled away, but it was too fast, grabbing me by the shoulder. I managed to turn and point the camera, barely getting a photo off.

I heard the Polaroid shoot from the camera and fall to the ground. I had to use all of my strength to pry its gangly fingers open. I turned to see the creature staring me in the eye. Its bloody mouth open in a scream. I could already see it starting to move again. It wouldn't stay frozen for as long as it did last time. Not wasting any time, I started back on the trail. I was freezing cold and drenched to the bone.

The remaining energy I had was fading fast. I made out enough landmarks to know I was close to my cabin. A little less than a quarter of the trail was left before I made it. I hadn't heard any signs of the monster, but I figured it was freed from whatever shock the flash had put it in. It wasn't long until I could reach my cabin, but if I kept pushing like this, I would trip and roll down the side of the mountain. I decided to sit underneath a short tree a few feet off the trail,

making sure to hide myself underneath the leaves as best I could. I rested my head against the bark, catching my breath. Using my break, I checked on my leg only to find it a bloody mess. I put my camera in my coat pocket as I tore apart my pants, to make a makeshift bandage. When I lifted my head, I saw the faint glow of a pair of eyes staring at me. It was following me, silently this time, just watching. As quickly as I could, I reached for the Polaroid and took a photo.

I saw the blinding light and heard the gears push the Polaroid to the ground, but when my eyes adjusted, I saw nothing but trees. It had moved out of the way. The creature leapt at me from behind, not about to give me the chance to get away again. to get away again. It pinned me down, holding me with a force I had no idea it was capable of. I stared at it, waiting for it to bite into my neck and tear out what remaining life I had left. Before I could come up with a way out, it grabbed my face and forced my head down onto the ground.

Everything went black. I woke up to the rough coldness of stone. I slowly sat up, feeling the back of my badly bruised and bleeding head. It was pitch black. I couldn't see my hands in front of my eyes. I stretched out my hands, feeling the coarse rock that surrounded me, until my hand drifted to a warm puddle. Following the liquid to its source, I felt coarse hair. It was a dead deer. I felt next to it, finding another dead animal,

slowly discovering an ever-growing pile of animal corpses, all with their skulls caved in. That creature had brought me back to its den. Did it think I was dead? think I was dead? I reached into my coat pocket and let out a sigh of relief when I felt the familiar plastic of my camera. That relief suddenly turned into terror as I heard scratching coming from somewhere to my right. It must have heard me. I only saw one way out of this. I climbed into the pile of bodies, covering myself with organs and small animals.

I heard the creature turn a corner, pacing around the room as it searched for me. The cover I made must have been good, as I heard it walk past me. The sounds of it walking slowly dwindled, until I heard nothing. Moving as quietly as possible, I slid out from under the pile of corpses I made, walking towards where I heard the monster enter. My progress was slow, but I kept quiet and hoped I had picked the right way to go. Just when I was about to give up and turn around, I felt hope, a breeze. I followed the breeze out, crawling through tunnels and shimmying through corridors until I could see the faint outline of an entrance. I leapt out of the cave, allowing myself to fully breathe for the first time in forever. Collecting myself, I searched around the outside

of the cave for some kind of landmark to tell me where I was. I then saw a faint light to my right. It was my cabin. Whatever this monster was, it had brought me to the old cave. near my cabin. It was pitch black out now, the rain still coming down hard. Thinking of the best course of action, I heard an ear-splitting scream come from somewhere deep in the cave. It already knew I had made it out. I limped towards my cabin as fast as I could, throwing open the door and locking it behind me. The power had come back on while I was out being chased, and I wasted no time making sure every door and window was locked or covered. I was lucky the old miners only built one tiny window at the front of the cabin. I scrambled to find where I had left my phone,

only to remember it was out of battery. I plugged it in, realizing I needed to wait until it was charged before I could leave. I wasn't getting through the storm in my car, so all I could hope for was to get far enough to reach a signal and call for help. Remembering my hunting equipment, I got out my rifle and some rusty foothold traps. I set the traps up at every door and a few spots in the cabin. The only thing to do now was wait for it. I lit a fire in the meantime, letting the warmth soak into my bones and harden my resolve to survive. It didn't take too long to hear scuttling along the outside of my house, going up towards the roof. I had never been gladder for a fire, knowing it couldn't go through the chimney without getting burned.

The scuttling increased in speed and sound, as if the creature was getting frustrated it couldn't find a way in. It then started pounding on the doors, running between them, testing which one would give in first. I shot at the doors until my ears were ringing and my shoulder was numb, but the thing never stopped. I heard a crash as the window at the front broke, the monster's elongated arm reaching through and flailing around in an attempt to grab me. A few shots from my gun dissuaded it, but then it decided to make its own entrance, using what I could only imagine to be a large rock, the thing relentlessly beat on a wall until the woods started to split. No matter how many shots I put through that wall, it wouldn't stop breaking it down. I was frozen there,

trying to think of a way out of fighting something I couldn't kill or trap, but it was already too late. The monster crashed through the wall, immediately rushing me and hitting me across the room. I sat there, the wind knocked out of me, watching as it approached. It knew it had me. No matter how many foot-hold traps it stepped in, it never slowed its approach. I wanted to save it in case I had to make a run for my car, but I had to use it now. I pulled out the camera, aiming it at the monster, and took a photo as it started to run, trying to stop me before I could press the shutter. I heard the gears grind, and the Polaroid dropped to the ground, but I closed my eyes when I realized it, the flash didn't go off. I was about to die.

I don't know when it happened, but my camera must have been damaged. It's probably toying with me now, waiting for me to open my eyes so it could make me watch as it devours me. But there was only silence. I finally opened my eyes. Its hand was only a foot away, reaching for the camera. It was frozen. I looked into its eyes, but something was wrong. That haunting glow was gone.

All I saw was that familiar emptiness I had seen when it first attacked me. Confused, I dropped my camera and scrambled around it, going for the door. Something stopped me, and I looked back at the creature, seeing its hand slowly starting to move. I thought it was reaching for the camera, but it was going for the Polaroid. I cautiously approached, grabbing the Polaroid before the creature could. I expected the photo to look normal, but I instead saw a gray haze in the rough shape of the monstrosity standing before me. The haze in the photo looked as if it was moving, writhing around as if trying to escape. Taking the photo had ripped it out of the monster, and it wanted to go back.

I knew what I had to do. I limped to the fireplace and tossed the photo in. The creature immediately started to scream. I imagine it would have deafened me if shooting the gun hadn't already. It dropped to its knees, its pale skin bubbling and bursting. It crawled towards the fireplace, using the last of its gun. fleeting strength to fight against the burning agony it was in. In the end, it was too slow. By the time the Polaroid was ashes, the creature was only a pile of misshapen bones.

I grabbed my phone and car keys. I drove it as far as I could, but the shitty thing got stuck in the mud a few miles out from the nearest town. I managed to limp the rest of the way, pushing myself with energy I didn't know I had. I'm writing this in the home of a kind stranger as they they try to call the police, but they can't get out here due to the storm. I should be able to upload this account with the little signal I can get. I'm realizing now that I should have stayed in my cabin, as all I've done is sentence another poor person to die. I see their eyes out in the tree line, dozens of glimmers as they stare at me, curious,

waiting, watching. I don't know if taking photos with my phone will work. Even if it does, there's no way I can stop them all. I'm posting this as a warning. Stay out of the mountains.