Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 40+ Best Scary Stories for Halloween | Skinwalker, Wendigo, Camping, Forest Ranger

Episode Date: October 28, 2021

These are 42 of the Best Scary Stories for Halloween | Skinwalker, Wendigo, Camping Forest, (Scary Stories) Almost 8 Hours of Scary Stories https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Check out the latest JUST CREEPY gear:  https://just-creepy-merchandise.creator-spring.com/  You can submit your own story to my Website, email, or subreddit:  ►https://www.justcreepy.net/ ►[e-mail]  ►https://www.reddit.com/r/justcreepystories/  Paypal Donation: Any amount is appreciated :) ►https://www.paypal.me/justcreepy  ***All stories have been approved by the authors to allow narration on my channel. I can provide proof If necessary.***   Business inquiries:  ►[e-mail]     💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

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 username. I don't have it on any of my social media, and it's a variation of my full name with a little. 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 a 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 it. I was

on 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 and 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 house? 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 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 gripped my closet rod 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 threw 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 open, 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 rosy. 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 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 froze. 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 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 nooks,

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. It reminded, She 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 ten 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, 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, 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 presence 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 used. He used to be a little, 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 be. to interact with him. 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 singeing 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, yeah? What is it, Uncle Chris? I answered,

trying my best to sound polite. I brought a little something for you at 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, 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 IP, to see what had changed. And when I did, I couldn't stop a 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 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. 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 and abrooting, 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 conversing 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 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 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 run-down 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 for 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 work. 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 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 interests 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. Paperworks 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? Carr, now. Chris seemed a 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, harrowed 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 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 and 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 see. 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 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, ushering 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 were 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 recognize 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 hands stuffed 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 life. 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 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 and 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. 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 fat. 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 under 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-stop to 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 into your inferior 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 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 it's 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, 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 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, 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.

so I was ecstatic 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 100 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 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 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 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. 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. 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 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. I used 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 you 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, so 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 post 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 boy's 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 cult 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 hid 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. her 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 to be. 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 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 20s. I'm a 4'10, 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 shot 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 makeup 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 wet. 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 lines 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 Lodagh, 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, an 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 river. the area, so I kept my bearspray 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 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 raccoons 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. 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, 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 onto 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 on the ground on its back or something. Since I didn't notice 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-made snow angel. If you don't know what a snow angel is, it's when kids. 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 lightpost. 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 see me through the window. so they must have waited for me to head downstairs to make the 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 flee in 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 they probably could see me, but I couldn't see them at all. Since other than the streetlight 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 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 didn't 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 work 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 in 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 and 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. 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 stopped 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 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 and 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 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, reflective 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 a light. 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 seem 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 do that. 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 was. 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 locked 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 Woods 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 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 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, but the 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 house 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 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 shapeshift 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 the 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 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 air, 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 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 that 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. 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 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 for 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 slid. I 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 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 Wilmont. 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 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 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 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, When 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 coyote 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 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, 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 Fe. 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 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 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 love. aside from the empty pizza boxes left outside of the other apartments, and the occasional muffled, yet still loud arguing of the couple that live 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-clothed 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, clod 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 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 the 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. It's glowing yellow eyes, and a wide, fanged smile faded away, swallowed by the blackness surrounding the edge of 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 back. I don't mind. They 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 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 swooped 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 and, investigation and told me to contact them if I find 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 refill. 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 are 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 accept. 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 braking 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 of all. 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. to 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 bug.

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. Atmospherically 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 horrific 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 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 live 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 pursuit 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 ten 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 had 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 Snapchats 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 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 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 They can't walk for very long, and sure as hell no, 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 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 covered. 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.

And 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 mountains,

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. 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 mention Skinwalkers and Wendikos. Very briefly, 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 skin walker. 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 realized 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 due 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 and national forests, which just seems strange. I don't think I'll be doing more solo traveling,

unless it's around civilization. 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 wasn't 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 streetlights. 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. 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 in 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 stay. 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-faced. 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 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 anxious I wanted to barth, and I might have, if I wasn't so paranoid, that closing my eyes just for a second would alert whatever was making the woods 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 woods, 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 five three 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 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 trailer 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 how 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 breath. 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 move 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 have 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 cucker. 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 do, 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 chocked 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 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 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 pump 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 the sting I felt, it may have been a claw, a claw from a windigo. I didn't care. I made it out alive. I made it to my neighbor's 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. 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 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 streetlights. 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 adjoined. 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 his 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,

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 here's 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 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 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

The dark 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? Skinwalkers 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 justify 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 skinwalker 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. My aunt told me this story. We are related by marriage, so she has a whole new set of Skinwalker stories that I would like to share with you. This story took place when she was a child. My aunt's family lived in a community

about 20 miles south of Gallup, New Mexico. The area is far different from where I live. My house is surrounded by desert, and you don't really see trees until you move into the canyon. Bread Springs is a forested area, and where our story takes place. Like many people on the reservation, my aunt's family didn't have running water or electricity,

so in order to have water, they would have to drive into town and haul water back in large containers. The containers are huge and easily fit in the bed of the truck. Her family would place two containers on a long flatbed trailer to make the best of each trip. Her family went into Gallup, filled up the containers, and went into town to do other types of business. Back then, seatbelt laws weren't so strict, and so my aunt and her siblings sat in the bed of the trucks as they went around town. It began to get dark, and so the family started to go back home.

Most roads weren't paved, so they had to drive carefully because of the attached trailer. The lights of the town faded away in the distance, and soon the vehicle was surrounded. rounded in darkness. They drove and the kids sat in the back and talked amongst themselves. That was until my aunt noticed something. A figure was crouched by the farthest water container on the flatbed. The truck wasn't barreling down the road, but it was going at a speed that it would be impossible for someone to run and jump on. My aunt nudged her siblings, and they all paused to look at the dark figure. They sat silently and squinted their eyes to look. It was too dark to really make anything out, and so they ignored her and continued to talk. My aunt kept her eye on the figure

and pulled hard on the sleeve of her brother when the figure began to crawl over to one of the water containers. The kids all stopped and watched in horror as the figure began to move carefully over the second container. My aunt said the figure looked like a person, however the limbs were abnormally long. These long limbs pulled its body closer to the kids. At this point, they began to scream and cry. They banged on the window of the truck. At this time, the creature was reaching for the tailgate of the truck. Due to the huge commotion that was now going on in the bed of the truck, the driver slammed on the brakes. The creature hit the tailgate and fell down between the truck and the trailer.

The driver rolled down the window and asked what was going on. The kids screamed at the driver to go. They weren't sure they were safe until they saw the trailer move up and down, as if it ran over something large. When my aunt told me this story, I sat in disbelief. She told me that she was uncomfortable when this thing was crawling on the trailer, but true fear rang through her body when she saw its eyes. I asked her what she meant. She said they were like teddy bear eyes.

I didn't quite understand what that meant until I pressed further. She said the eyes were shiny. When you shine the light in the eyes of an animal, they reflect back. The brake lights were shining, and whatever they saw that night had eyes that glowed back. I'm going to be honest. I already wrote this out one time and deleted it because I'm honestly unnerved about posting it. On one hand, it's been 16 years since it all went down

and the primary Skinwalker in question is locally dead as she was very old when it occurred. On the other hand, I was also silenced a long time ago for talking too much. So, here's try too. The area that we lived in initially was slightly out of town, a neighborhood near a park that was a sacred site, to the tribe. Because of its location, it was a bit isolated and the homes were all company owned.

Most of them had stood empty for who knows how long, but the company my S.O. worked for at the time had just started opening them up for their employees. There were maybe 15 homes in this little pocket neighborhood with lots of space between them, and only three of them had anyone living in them, including ours. On our street, there was a single empty house across from us, some bass, basketball courts next door and up the street. An empty house next door and an occupied home at the top of the road with its back to the park. Streets out on the res are pretty dark, even in neighborhoods. For this one long road, there was just two street lights, one at the bottom of the road and one at the top. Being in the middle, it was quite dark and pretty awesome for stargazing. Our house was nestled at the

bottom of a steep slope, so the road in front of it was up on about a six foot ridge. I'd been out there for less than a year when it all started. I was a smoker, and so in the evening I'd go outside and sit on my bench, smoke a cigarette, and bounce between looking at the stars and checking around my feet for scorpions. The first thing that I ever noticed was hearing a kind of mad, chaotic flute song. It sounded like somebody had handed a recorder to a toddler, and that's how I rationalized it. Some poor parents in this practically empty neighborhood had given their kid a recorder, and were being tortured with it.

I kind of laughed at their imagined misery and didn't think much of it. The next night, around 9.30, again, the same thing happened. I heard the flute. Laughed at the poor parents and didn't think much else of it. And the same night after that.

On the fourth night, though, I was up later than usual, much later, and went outside to have a cigarette. I heard a strange sound come from where the basketball courts were, next door. but I couldn't figure out if it came from a small pocket of trees between me and the court or the court itself. It sounded very human, so I decided to call it a night and go to bed.

The following night, I went outside for a cigarette and was sitting there when I saw something small and distinct moving through the trees. But on the road, I sat there smoking and watching it, trying to figure out what it was. I wasn't too worried because my S.O. was awake, and in the front room with this door open, So if anything was going to make sounds at me, he would be there in a second. Whatever it was, didn't look human. It was far too small and low to the ground, so I just watched it, curious to see what it was. Its fur was very light-colored, and when it cleared the trees,

it started to casually continue up the road in front of my house. I figured it had to be a cat because of its size and color of its fur. There was no way it could be anything else, and on top of it, its fur was so clean. To me, it looked like somebody's cat had gotten out of their house. I was still pretty new to the res and didn't realize that most Navajos

don't have cats in the house. I got worried about that as I watched it walk up the road because the house of the family on the top of the road had some big dogs. So I got up, put my cigarette out, and decided an intervention was in order. I made my way up the driveway and slowly tried to catch up with the cat

because I didn't want to scare it off and send it running straight into the dogs. There didn't seem to be much of a rush, though, as the cat had taken to meandering on the road ahead of me, so I started calling it softly, trying to coax it over to me so I could rescue the poor thing. I got within ten feet of it, however, I realized that there was some serious problems with this cat. It had no tail, and its body was lumpy and odd. It looked like it was floating above the ground instead of walking. and its legs swung back and forth rhythmically instead of stepping. The head didn't even appear to have ears.

I felt absolute terror, as I had no idea what I was looking at, because this thing was so not right. I ran back down the road, down my driveway, and had my hand on the screen door to go inside. When I stopped myself and turned back to look at it one more time, the Skinwalker had stopped where we had just been

and was just sitting there, with the ridge and the chain-link fence between us. dumb me, and the screen door right there to run inside. I figured it was safe to keep watching it and tried to figure out what it was. I let the screen door go and turned to watch. After a few seconds, the Skinwalker started to walk its way up the road again, towards the house at the top. Just before it got to where the light from the streetlight shone down though,

it stopped at the dim light and started to roll around furiously in the clay alongside the road. All I could see was fur and dust, but then it stopped and rose up, this time appearing much larger than the cat before, with its fur all dusty from the dirt. It moved into the light, and that's when I saw it was an elderly woman, under a skin that covered up the top of her head and ran down her back. She slowly walked on all fours until she positioned directly under the street light, and then, crouched down to stare at me. I don't know how long we stared at each other, but at that point, My SO spotted me outside the door, totally frozen, and came out to investigate. I didn't say a word, and he looked over to where I was staring, uttered some scared obscenities, grabbed me and dragged me into my house, bolting the door behind us.

He was Navajo, and he was pretty upset that I was gawking at a skinwalker, instead of running inside and locking the door behind me, like a sensible person. He was even more livid when he found out that I had actually thought it was a cat and tried to capture it. Nice moves on my part. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night and had to deal with my friends and even my own mother who knew I've never done drugs or drinking

implying that I somehow either got high or drunk to experience this. Thanks, Mom. The rules totally changed after that night. I wasn't allowed to go outside at night anymore without my SO, and never, after he went to bed. On our next visit, shortly after this, We were eating dinner in the kitchen when my cat, very uncharacteristically, jumped at me,

climbed on top of my shoulder and started hissing and growling at something behind me. The only thing behind me was the laundry room with a small window. When my S.O. and eldest saw a pasty, globy white face of a skinwalker peering through it, watching us eat dinner. All we could really do is just shut the door to the laundry room and not go outside that night at all. Out on the res where we were at, the garbage cans were kept in these elevated cages to keep animals, especially wild dogs,

from knocking them over. The next morning we came to find out our garbage cans had completely lifted out of the cages, and our garbage was all over the road. When we put them back, we spotted dusty mountain lion tracks on top of one of the lids. To me, this was really interesting

because it wasn't like a random collection of paws like you'd imagine. They were neatly lined up. They were definitely not legitimate animal tracks, but more like something stomped on top of it with a mountain lion paw. It was at this point my S.O. decided that we needed to contact a medicine man. What we didn't know at the time was that, during all of this, my eldest had woken up in the middle of the night, and thought he heard me up, so he turned on his light to come see me. It took him at least 15 years to tell me about this, but apparently, when he came out of his room,

he realized our door was shut and the lights were all off in the house. He looked down the hall and saw two yellow, glowing eyes. He did what any six-year-old would do in that situation. He went back to his room, shut the door, and hid under his covers. Anyways, my S.O. called his uncle, whose father was a medicine man, and told him that we were getting visited by Skinwalkers. Our medicine man was a crystal gazer and singer, and that was really interesting. We didn't tell him anything about what.

we had seen at all, but somehow he knew everything. He knew that I had seen a very unusual colored fur, and told us that the skinwalker that I had seen was actually head of the local skinwalkers. She was very old, and the only one that had the right to wear that fur. Her purpose out there that night was to teach two young skinwalkers, the art of skin walking, and there was a fourth skinwalker there to guard the children who was a mountain lion. Unfortunately for us, because I reacted the way I did, this elderly Skinwalker decided that I must have some sort of power that she had not seen before. And so there was nothing that we could do because she was now interested in me. She wanted to find out what my power was, and if I posed any threat to her, and if I didn't, then she wouldn't kill me.

Lucky for me, I didn't have a power other than equal measures of object stupidity and curiosity. Unlucky for us, because of this, she never figured out what my power was. and maybe she was resentful of the fact that I didn't get completely duped or rush inside the house after that. It didn't matter what house we lived in on the reservation. The flute would start up and Skinwalkers would show up after. Note, this story happened to a very close friend of mine. I found it so interesting and I wanted to share it. It's written in his perspective.

This incident occurred sometime in the fall of 2006. I grew up in a secluded part of Ohio. my house had fairly dense woods located directly behind it. As a child, I had a passion for exploring. I especially loved exploring those woods. It was my favorite place to be. Prior to the incident, I had wandered through those woods many times, always with my mother's permission.

There was one tree in particular that I frequently enjoyed to climb, usually about to the halfway mark, so I could perch myself on one of the heavier branches and just relax as I listened to the peaceful sounds of nature. Climbing that tree for the first time was quite an accomplishment. From that position, I could partially see the back of my house. On that day, after a fair amount of exploring, I carefully scaled my favorite tree. I seated myself on a sturdy branch and took in the view.

Naturally, being in late October, the sun inevitably began to set within a few minutes. I always felt a little sadden to see the darkness approaching. The woods were more like my sanctuary. I could entertain myself out there for hours. When the darkness began to fall, however, my mother would stand at the edge of the woods and call my name until I obediently returned home, so not to be stranded out there after dark. After watching the sun until I could no longer see it, I began my descent down the tree. I was nearly at the bottom when I heard my mother's familiar voice, calling my name. I thought nothing of it at first, as this routine had occurred. plenty of times before. Then I realized something strange as my mother's feet touched the ground.

My mother's voice was coming from behind me, deeper in the woods, rather than towards the entrance where she always stood when she was calling me home. My mom had never entered those woods before. I was eager to find her and show her all of my favorite spots before it grew too dark. That's when I realized something was off. How could she have gone into the woods ahead of me? certainly I could have missed her, but as I said, she never entered those woods. She continued calling my name, but there was something strange about it. She sounded absolutely frantic, almost angry, fearing that I was in trouble for reasons currently unknown. I froze in place. As her voice drew closer, I squinted my eyes to see if I could locate her

and determine exactly how angry or upset she appeared to be. However, I didn't see anyone or anything unusual. Suddenly, I heard her voice calling my name from the direction of my house, sounding much calmer. Seconds later, from somewhere within the woods yet again, it wasn't an echo. I wasn't imagining things. I was literally hearing her beckoning me from the edge of our backyard, as well as ahead of me. My leg suddenly turned to jelly. I couldn't quite comprehend what was going on. Come here, right now!

The voice that I originally believed to be her screamed just ahead. I realized that whoever, or whatever was mimicking my mother, was drawing closer. I didn't question which voice was actually my mother's, as there was something about the way it sounded that unnerved me, terrified of what I would see if I stood there much longer. I turned around and ran towards the exit of the woods, as quickly as my lakes could possibly carry me. It was amazing that I didn't trip over anything in my hustle. Even though my house wasn't very far away from where I had been standing, those woods have never seemed larger to me than they did in that moment.

From behind me, my mother's voice continued to call my name, now sounding desperate. Panic set in as my actual mother finally came into view, waiting patiently as she usually did until I returned home. In my frightened state, I absolutely refused to look back. As soon as I was out of the woods and in the backyard next to my mother, the other voice was suddenly gone. Rather than fading away, it seemed to stop the very moment I stepped foot

to my backyard. I must have looked as frightened as I felt because my mother asked me what was wrong. Slowly but surely, my panic subsided. I didn't say anything until we were safely inside of the house, with our doors locked. I asked my mother if she had entered the woods. Appearing confused by my question, she told me that of course she hadn't. With that confirmation, I hesitantly asked her if she had heard anyone else calling my name and yelling. The answer to that question was also no. Although I was still very much shaken up. I managed to explain everything that happened as clearly and rationally as possible. My mother was surprisingly nonchalant about the whole situation, explaining that I must have imagined it, that I was spending too much time out there by myself. The incident in those

woods have stayed with me to this day. I can still hear that voice as clear as bell. Whoever, or whatever was calling my name, sounded exactly like my mother, but I know it wasn't her. Not only was she waiting for me outside, but the voice also sounded strange in a way that I still can't fully explain. I didn't go back into the woods until I was 17 years old, and even then, I never hung around for long. I have carefully gone over every possible explanation, but none of them seem entirely plausible. It certainly wasn't my mother playing a prank. There was no way that she could have pulled it off, not to mention the fact that she'd never been one to play pranks. I also highly doubt it was anyone else because, as I stated before, we lived in a secluded area. The closest neighbor was at least

a mile away, and I wasn't personally acquainted with any of them. How could they have known my name and where to find me? We've since moved out of that house, but my mother and I occasionally discussed the incident. She still claims she had never heard or saw anything unusual out there. I know it probably shouldn't, but what happened in those woods continues to bother me. I spent many hours out there prior to that day and never had anything out of the ordinary occur. The best explanation I have at this point is a doppelganger or possibly a skin walker, but I'm unsure. If anyone has any possible explanation as to what might have happened, I'd love to hear it. Thank you for listening.

Let me start by saying that I've never been much of an outdoorsy person. I grew up in a city in the States, so there weren't a lot of opportunities for me to bask in the wonders of nature. Even if there were, I still wouldn't budge from the couch and Nintendo just to get a glimpse of some plants and a ray of sunlight. No, I'd rather stay inside and waste my youth away in front of the television, just like other teenagers my age. On the few occasions I would venture outside. It would just be a quick walk to the local park to meet up with some of my friends, you know, the usual teenage behavior. Naturally, my mother grew worried.

She thought I wasn't getting the natural benefits a kid my age ought to have, but she was seldom vocal about it. She was a single mother and sole provider for me and my younger brother, as our father passed some time ago, so she had to work most of the time to provide for us all. Therefore, she wasn't around very often to dictate what we were or weren't supposed to do, which suited me just fine. During the summer before my first year of high school, however,

she arranged for me and my brother to visit some family in Oslo, Norway, because she thought this was the perfect time for us to get out for a bit. My mother's sister, Aunt Lucy, had lived there with her Norwegian husband and their son for the past two decades or so, so our mother thought it would be a good opportunity for me and my brother to get, as she called it, some quality time outside with family. Like all the opportunities I had gotten before, I was quick to decline this one as well, as I had no interest in going to Scandinavia to meet a family I barely called twice a year.

However, my mother stomped her foot down against my refusal and was adamant that my brother and I went along with it. Despite my initial rejection of her idea, as well as my general lack of interest, I agreed after some amount of persuasion from my mother's side. She said that if I agreed, then she would buy me a new game console to waste time on. My Nintendo had grown rather old and didn't work like it used to before, so I eventually accepted her terms, albeit reluctantly. My brother and I left the following week. it took us a couple of flights to get to Oslo. When we finally arrived, my first impression of Norway was already established.

Very cold. Even in the middle of summer, it felt like an ice house there in comparison to my home city. As we waited at the airport for our relatives to arrive and pick us up, I felt like an alien standing amongst humans. The people were talking in a language that I had little prior knowledge about, and while my brother and I were standing there in our thick layered clothes and scarves, the locals were dressed rather casually. I guess they were more accustomed to the temperature than we were,

and even found it comfy enough if they dressed in thinly as they were, whereas we were chilled to the bone. When our aunt and her family finally arrived to the airport, they greeted us with open arms, and I admit the hospitality was welcoming. I didn't stand too close to my aunt and her family, not as much as I would have wanted to, and we seldom never saw each other. At most, we would exchange a few letters or phone calls over the year, but we rarely, if ever, met face-to-face.

To spend a couple of weeks with them was a huge step, but even though I was hesitant, I tried my best to welcome the change. Besides, it wasn't like I could do anything about it. Our cousin's name was Jonas. He wasn't much older than me, and since we shared a couple of hobbies such as gaming, it helped to break the ice knowing that there was someone I could relate to. All of us spent the first couple of days getting to know each other better than we had before. The family lived in a privileged two-story house on the outskirts of the city, which had been renovated only a few months prior.

It was a good place to stay, and I found myself enjoying it there farther than I was. had initially anticipated. Our aunt and uncle were treating my brother and I as though we had known each other for far longer than we really had. But since my uncle was Norwegian, he occasionally struggled with a few English terms. Nonetheless, I appreciated the efforts. Our uncle was a wildlife biologist and was often absent from his family because of his work. During our stay there, however, we would all be going along with him out to the dense Norwegian forest a bit further from the city while he worked on some projects with his colleagues, which involved observing some animals there. We would be staying in the cabin that the family owned but seldom used, and he promised us that we

would have the time of our life there. At first, I wasn't sure about this idea. After all, I wasn't too keen on the prospect of going into the wilderness, as I would rather stay in the house, and play games with my cousin. However, after Jonas II insisted that we would have a great time, and after my little brother became thrilled about it as well, I knew that I had lost against their argument. We left for the cabin a couple of days later. The drive there took us a few hours, and the view of the vast city gradually vanished into the distance. I was quick to take note of the Norwegian landscape. I had very rarely seen so many trees, plants, and fauna. where I came from, and I had to admit it, it was rather beautiful to look at.

The sound of the birds singing in the distance and the wind blowing the branches of the trees brought out a sense of serenity in me that I didn't know I had needed, nor yearned for, and the majority of my discomfort vanished like dust in the wind. By the time we arrived at the cabin, it was already dark outside. To my dismay, the place wasn't as renovated as the house back in Oslo, It was a one-story cabin with one of those dry toilets outside that you couldn't flush with water. The cabin itself seemed old-fashioned and ancient like it had been built several centuries earlier in a time period far less advanced than this one.

Fortunately, it had electricity, but only to manage the lights, and there wasn't any signal there either, so having our phones there was essentially useless. We were practically stranded in the middle of the forest with only trees, stretching for miles. And had it not been for the car, it would have taken us days to reach civilization on foot. Despite its lack of modernity, the cabin was accommodating enough. It had a kitchen, a storage room, and what seemed to be a living room. They had ordinary commodities like a couch and a table, not to mention a fireplace that was used to regulate the temperature in the place. However, since the cabin had two bedrooms, the three of us boys had to share one of them,

whereas our aunt and uncle shared the other. The room we slept in was barely large enough to house one person, much less three. And to make matters worse, Jonas was the only one with a bed. My brother and I had to lie in sleeping bags on the floor, and the lack of spaciousness, as well as the sound of my brother nightly sleep-talking,

didn't make it easy to doze off, so I spent the majority of my evenings lying awake in my bag next to my loud brother. We spent the first days making ourselves at home in the cabin. While it took some effort on my part, I eventually found some sense of appreciation for the solitude. While I wouldn't call it an immense fondness per se, I would still much prefer my Nintendo and warm bed

over what I visibly had at my disposal, but given the circumstances, I was in no place or shape to make demands. We ate warm food on the stove, drank fresh water from the well close to the, the cabin and spent the evenings playing cards or board games with one another before we called it a night. Our uncle would occasionally take us deeper into the forest to get a look at the animals there, and we would be lucky if we caught a glimpse of a moose or a fox. All in all, things could have

been considerably worse, but one thing I never grew accustomed to was the toilet. It reeked with a hideous stench, and going there was always an ordeal, especially in the middle of the night when it was pitch black outside. One night, after having failed to fall asleep once again because of my brother's consistent sleep-talking, I felt the need to use the toilet. At first, I tried to hold it, but to no lasting success. I got up from my sleeping bag and headed out of the house with a flashlight. It was very quiet outside, and the darkness shrouded the deep and dense forest in a way that only added to the eerie atmosphere. I was not used to that kind of silence,

and quite frankly, it was unnerving to listen to. I felt watched in a way I couldn't describe, and I would occasionally hear a twig being snapped or branches brushing against each other. That alone made me feel separated from the rest of the world, and the longer I stared into the dark abyss, the more it seemed like the dark was staring back at me. Without wasting time, I quickly went to the dry toilet and shut the door behind me.

The smell was ever so revolting, but I went ahead and did my business. When I was done, I was about to head back outside the cabin when I discovered my brother standing on the porch, looking out into the distance with this vague glimpse in his eyes, initially thinking he was simply sleepwalking again. I was about to nudge him back inside when I realized that he was fully awake. What are you doing out here? I asked him. I was just listening to music, he answered, not sounding like he was entirely there. The music, I asked, and looked back at the forest. I didn't hear anything but the unusual noises that the trees produced. So naturally, I thought he was just hearing

things because he was still half asleep. However, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being watched through the tree line and would rather not stick around to find out. My brother pointed at the forest and into the nothingness between the trees. She's playing her tune and she wants me to follow her. I wanted to ask him what it was he meant, but I knew I wouldn't get any reliable answers from him. So I took him by the shoulder and let him back inside the cabin. Surprisingly, he let me do so without fighting back and simply faltered through the cabin door like a zombie, taking this as a sign that he had simply heard things. I was about to shut the door behind us when I heard what sounded like a violin playing in the distance of the trees. It was a beautiful tune, like something straight out

of a musical. I glanced back at the darkness and thought I saw a pair of reflective orbs looking back at me, like those of a cat's eyes in the night. I wanted to follow them and figure out where they led to, but since I had to see my brother back to the room, I hesitantly shut the door and guided him in. Jonas was sleeping sound in his bed, and after putting my brother into his sleeping bag, I finally succeeded to fall asleep as well. The dream I had that night was strange and intoxicating. I was standing near a pond at what appeared to be an open clearing in the middle of the forest, yet everything around me seemed, distorted. The water in front of me was dark, and murky, seemingly bottomless. Then a figure emerged from the depths of the pool, and I

froze as I laid my eyes on it. It was a beautiful woman in the middle of the pond, untouched by the cruelties of the world in a way that I couldn't even comprehend. Her skin looked pale and smooth, and she had unearthly long, dark hair that reached down to the black waters below, making it seem like her hair was one with it. Her eyes were equally as dark as though the night had swallowed them whole, and yet they looked at me in a way that could make even a mother's loving gaze pale in comparison. She reached one of her arms from the water, and beckoned for me to come with her with a flick of a finger. She smiled in a way that was ambiguous, and yet I still found myself complying with her silent demands, without any will to withstand her orders. I made my way

into the water to join her. The pond felt cold against my skin, but I didn't as much fidget as I began to swim where she was. It was all I wanted, it seemed. The closer I got, however, the more her facial features began to contort themselves into a monstrous creature. Her once beautiful neck developed gills that ooze some kind of tar-like substance.

Her smooth skin became covered in fish-like scales, and her face, her beautiful face, shifted into that of an inhuman creation with razor-sharp, red-drenched teeth. She smiled at me so sinisterly that nothing can compare to it. Before I could turn back, she grabbed me and pulled me down beneath the dark waters. I kept thrashing and struggling in her grip, but her nails dug deep into my flesh like a pair of knives

and kept me under until everything faded to complete darkness that matched the pond. I woke up with a startle, gasping for air and feeling as though I had just spent all of my energy and breath on running a marathon. my clothes were soaked thoroughly with sweat as though I had really been diving in cold water the night before. My neck ached painfully from where I had been grabbed in the dream. Needless to say, the sensation wasn't welcoming in the slightest. I spent a couple of minutes catching my breath there on the bedroom floor. Even though it was so early that the sun was barely up, I decided to get ready for the day. I was already awake and doubted that I would be able to fall back asleep again. So what was the point of lying about? As I got to my feet and onto the cold floor,

I felt like I stepped on something wet. Looking down, I discovered a trail of wet footsteps that led from the foot of my sleeping bag out the front door of the cabin, which had been left wide open by whoever had entered. Being the logical individual I was, I initially assumed that I had just been sleepwalking, or maybe my brother again. Maybe it had been Jonas, or our aunt, or uncle, either of those assumptions was plausible, but something in the back of my brain told me that none of those alternatives were correct. Besides, why would it be wet? When everyone gathered around in the kitchen table for breakfast that morning, I asked if anyone had left the front door wide open, or if they had gone to our room in the middle of the night, I knew that it was a stupid question,

and just the way my aunt looked at me indicated that none of them knew what I was talking about, so I ignored the subject altogether and tried to turn to a more logical explanations for compensation. It was probably just my brother after all, and he had gone walking in and out of the house and his sleep again. Nothing more than that, and nothing less. The ache in my neck, however, didn't lessen that morning, nor did the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

That day, our uncle would be occupied with some colleagues in the area, so he suggested that the three of us boys went fishing in a pond that was located a little further up in the forest. The word pond was enough to send shivers down my spine, but I tried to ignore it and went along with the idea for the sake of getting my mind on something else for a change. After packing our equipment, me, my brother, and Jonas headed into the woods on our own while our Aunt Lucy stayed behind to prepare food for later. Being on our own made us feel like a grown-up. And soon enough, that horrible nightmare was washed off my mind like a stain of ketchup on my shirt.

Though the pain of my neck served as a constant reminder of what I had dreamt of, the walk didn't take too long, maybe half an hour or so. As we went, I couldn't help but notice my brother was acting a little bit different. He was usually chirpy and always had something to say, but he was quiet and didn't as much as utter a sound as he walked. It was unnervingly uncharacteristic of him, and being the caring, I'll be it occasionally pushing brother I was. I was quick to put a question mark on it. What's up? I asked him as we neared our destination. Are you okay? He looked at me with those

same empty eyes he had the night before. Then he broke into a smile. I'm just focusing on the music, he said, and I was reminded of what he had told me the night before. The same music, I asked. and stopped for a moment to listen, but didn't hear anything. The music she plays, she's good with the violin. Who's she? The lady by the pond, the same one that visited us last night. I halted in my steps as I heard this. Visited us?

What are you talking about? She left you a kiss. He innocently poked at my neck. Don't you remember? I touched my neck as he said this. While there was no mark of any kind on my skin, I could still feel the ache there as vividly as I could in that dream. I wouldn't exactly call that a kiss, and I most certainly wouldn't go as far as to say that I fully believed a woman had given it to me in my sleep. No, I don't remember it, I said.

My brother looked at me in a way that I didn't find comforting. His eyes remained hollow as the night, almost bottomless, like the pond from my dreams. He didn't say a single word, but that alone was enough to send shivers down my spine. After a few seconds, he resumed with walking, and I promptly followed behind. When we finally arrived, I noticed that the pond in front of us looked eerily familiar to the dream. The clearing of the forest seemed the same. The water was a little less murky, but still haunting to look at. And the feeling of isolation struck me like a slap to my face.

I expected the creature from the depths to emerge and drown us all, but there was nothing there. Still, as much as I wanted to leave, I knew that I would put the brakes on Jonas's fun. After all, he seemed to be the most excited about going to the lake. At first, I thought this was because he wanted to fish, but then he started stripping down. I knew his intentions were to dive straight into the water instead. Isn't it cold? I asked as I tried to dissuade him from going in. Are you sure it's safe? Jonas laughed as he threw his clothes next to his bag.

It's fine. There's nothing there, I promise. Come on, it'll be fun. I don't think you should go. I persisted and put my bag down on the grass. There could be something in the water. It's fresh, so I doubt it, Jonas added dismissively. If you're not going to do it, then I'm not going to force you.

I ain't got those same reservations. And with that said, he jumped right into the water with a loud splash and disappeared beneath the murkiness until no trace of him could be seen from the surface. I wanted to go after him, but just as I was about to pull off my shoes, he re-emerged from the water with a grin on his face. Told you it was fine. He said as he began to swim further away on his back until the distance between us grew quite prominent. As I watched my cousin relax on the water, a wave of relief washed over me. Maybe I had just been overthinking things. Of course, it was just a nightmare, and everything would just turn out

fine. I continued to try to put the image of the disfigured woman behind me, but as I turned to my brother and discovered that he too had stripped down, my alertness came back like a switch had been flicked. You're not going in there, I said and grabbed him by the arm. but he shook my hand off with ease. The lady is waiting for us. He said faintly and pointed to where Jonas was swimming in the water. There is no lady in the water, I insisted. It was just a dream.

But she's waiting for us. No, she's not. I reached to grab him again, but before I could, he jumped into the water and made his way over to where Jonas was. My stomach plummeted to the bottom of my abdomen, like a ten-pound brick, as I watched him go. and a million thoughts rushed through my head. I didn't know why, though.

I mean, it was just a bad dream. As far as I could tell, the woman wasn't anywhere to be seen. She was just that, part of a dream, and I had nothing to worry about. I started to feel relaxed enough to take off my shoes and the rest of my stuff until I stood there. Just as I was done, I started to hear what sounded like a violin playing close by.

The same beautiful tune I had heard from last night, night echoed through my eardrums, and I was starting to debate whether or not I had truly lost my mind. I listened closer and realized that it was coming from the pond, as though whoever was playing the instrument was trembling with it from beneath the depths of the water. Then I heard Jonas let out an ear-defeigning scream from where he was, and upon snapping my attention to him, I saw her. The deformed woman from my dreams stood there in the water, with her bony, scale-covered. arms stretched toward Jonas in an effort to grab him. He quickly swam away out of her reach, but just as it seemed like he was out of immediate harm's way from the creature, my brother suddenly

emerged from the water right next to him and proceeded to pull him under. Despite my brother being roughly 90 pounds or so, and rather skinny for his age, he managed to pull our older cousin underneath with seemingly no difficulty. I watched in paralyzed horror as Jonas fell beneath the murky water, waltzed his arms waved above the surface in a futile effort to regain his breath. The woman, or whatever it was, watched the spectacle in front of her with evident bemusement. Even though the waters were deep, she stood there completely still, like she didn't need to move in order to stay afloat. Her black eyes were aimed at the view, and then she tilted her head to look at me. I was completely frozen. Even as I watched my brother sink my cousin, I couldn't move a single muscle

for the duration of it. The woman's lips parted, and her razor-like teeth shone like diamonds in the sun, and she smiled a malevolent, vicious smile that not even the devil's grin can compare to. Jonas's arm stopped moving and gradually descended to the water. My brother still held him down and didn't seem moved by his act in the slightest. His face was void of any kind of remorse or emotion. And for a moment, I even doubted it was my brother. My brother couldn't as much as her to fly without bursting into tears. So this was something entirely otherworldly. He then looked at me, and I saw his eyes had turned completely dark like the pond he was in, just like the woman's eyes. He began to make his way over to her, and embraced her like she was our

mother. The creature enveloped her arms around him in return, and they both turned to look at me with those equally dark eyes. Then each of them stretched an arm towards me without letting go of one another, and they called out to me. Come to us, they said in perfect unison, and I can only describe the sound of their voices as hollow and inhuman. While my Norwegian skills were questionable at best, I knew they were saying, come to us. At that moment, it felt like my body had gotten a mind of its own, because I no longer felt like I was the one in control. Like a puppet with strings, I began to walk towards the edge of the pond with the intent of jumping in. I wanted to go with them. It was like being a child again and being called to your mother for a hug. It was all I could focus on. I didn't seem to

care about the fact that my cousin had just sunk in front of my very eyes, and the image of him floating around somewhere down in the water was erased from my mind like markings on a piece of paper. I can't describe how or why, but the second my toes made contact with the cold water, I snapped out of my trance and sprinted as far away from there as I could manage. I didn't even bother to get dressed or to bring my stuff with me. I just ran as fast as I could without stopping for a moment. My bare feet ached as I stepped over rocks and branches on the path back to the cabin, where I found my aunt preparing lunch on the porch. When she saw me, she instantly knew something was wrong. I tried to tell her what happened, but my lungs were completely empty of oxygen, and my body

possessed barely enough energy to stand. In fact, I fainted right there on the porch, and I don't remember much of what happened after that. However, I recall seeing that hideous woman in the pond. I remember seeing my brother still there with her, and I remember hearing that beautiful, but nightmare-inducing violin music ringing in my ears. Years have gone by, and nothing ever came out of the investigation that was launched. They never found my brother, or my cousin, or that deformed woman for that matter. No matter how many divers they sent into the pond, there was absolutely nothing there.

My family had tried to have me mentally evaluated since what I told them had made no sense. In a way, I couldn't really blame them, but after I was deemed perfectly sane, my answer still couldn't provide them with any clues. They simply thought I was in shock, and because they didn't find them, my brother and cousin were simply reported as missing.

My mom hasn't been the same since. Her once lively and energetic self was gone the moment she heard about what happened to my brother. I no longer see her smiling like she used to, and whenever I bring the subject up, she will shun me like a plague and lock herself inside of her room, or simply pretend like she didn't hear anything at all. I don't hear much from my aunt or uncle anymore either. I'm not going to go as far as to say they blame me for what happened to their son, but I can tell that simply talking to me over the phone brings them in measurable pain. I'm also saddened by the loss of two valued members of my family,

but what weighs me down, even more, is the fact that I'm the only one who's aware of what really happened to them, and I can't tell anyone. I guess that's why I'm posting this here. I'm trying to get some kind of closure, but I can't seem to get any closure, to putting what happened to me behind me as much as I've tried. It doesn't really help that I still hear that grotesque melody in the back of my mind wherever I go, and I still see those pitch black, inhuman eyes in my sleep. I have nightmares about that event to this day,

and when I wake up, I find my clothes are soaked with sweat, and my floorboards are covered in puddles of water. The creature is still out there. I know it. It's someplace back in Norway, taking people just like it had with my little brother and my cousin, and it still yearns for me, the one who got away. One day, I might go back there to bring this all to an end, but something tells me that I won't return.

I hope I do, I sincerely do, but that thing wasn't, isn't human. It has some kind of effect on people that makes them bend to its will. If I return, I doubt I'll be as lucky as I was, but I don't. back when I was a teenager. Hello everybody. My name is Denver Dark. I'm 19 years old, fresh out of high school, working as a park ranger at the Caledin Steak Park in Virginia.

My job is pretty easy. I don't usually patrol the park. My job is to sit in the radio room and wait for people to call in if they need assistance. This can range from somebody needing the bathroom door unlocked to a drunken fight. A couple of months ago, I thought I had an encounter with a type of creature, or maybe even an alien.

I'm not sure at this point. This forever scarred me, and I will always be paranoid of the forest. It was a normal evening at the park. I looked over at the clock on my desk as it clicked over to 6 p.m. Well, there goes another night by myself. I said aloud as all of the other park rangers packing up to leave. Another hour passed, and I was eating my dinner. Static started coming through the radio.

After a couple seconds of just the static, a girl's voice started to come through. Hello, hello, is anyone there? I paused for a second after chewing another bite of my food. I have never heard anything like that over the radio before, so I picked it up. Hello, this is Officer Dark here. Yes, she yelled before continuing her sentence. Please help me. Something is chasing me.

I was dumbfounded. The creepy part was she didn't say someone. She said something. I quickly calmed myself before responding. Calm down, miss. Tell me where you are and I can send out help immediately. I'm at the old watchtower on the northeast side of the park. I ran here after it chased me out of my cabin.

Please help. I think it's close. It's all right, miss. I'll send out help. I was cut off. by her, sh. I stopped talking,

listening to the radio. Then I heard a very soft but aggressive growl come from the speaker. Oh no, it's here. As she finished her sentence, I heard a crash of a window and a large thud on the wood floor. The radio cut out.

I was in complete shock. What did I hear? After about a minute of me being absolutely glued to my seat with terror, I started to gather a plan in my head. I spun around in my chair and grabbed the old park map off the desk next to me. I unfolded it frantically, scanning it to look for an old watch tower. It was on the northeast side of the park, just like she said.

To the looks of it, it would take me about an hour to walk there. I got up from my chair and walked over to the gun cabinet, unlocking it with the keys I had in my pocket. I grabbed the first gun I saw, a 12-gauge, shotgun, along with some extra shells. I also saw a flare gun on the top shelf and decided to take that too. Before leaving the station, I made sure I had everything I needed. Shotgun, flare gun, radio, flashlight, pocket knife, and map. I'm not going to lie, I was scared to go out into the woods after that whole event. I hated the idea of being alone, but I knew I couldn't just sit there and do nothing. As I exited the station, I was greeted by a cool breeze and a beautiful sunset of a summer

evening. All of the night bugs and animals started to come out. I could hear the calling of the cicadas and the trees, while the crickets buzzed below them on the ground. It's weird, because you wouldn't think such a breathtaking scene could hold such a horror that the lady experienced. Since it was a long walk, I started moving at a faster pace than I normally would. As I was about a bit, I was about 10 minutes away from the tower, everything changed. Once an amazing sunset, now turned the forest into a pitch black that no person can see into, along with the deafening sound of silence as the cicadas and crickets stops chatting. This was extremely odd. I had been in the forest many times at night, and nothing like this ever happened. A few more minutes of walking later,

and I saw the old watchtower. It was about 70 feet tall or so. with a hut on top of it. The watchtower had seen better days. The wood looked very old, with it being damp and cracked in many spots. At this point, I was at the base of the tower. Right before I was about to go up on my first step, I got the worst feeling I've ever felt.

My head started to spin. I was very nauseous and started to see stars. As this continued, I thought I was going to pass out. As the darkness around my eyeballs started to grow, everything stopped. I was normal again, except for one feeling. It felt like someone was staring at me. I swear I could feel its eyes glaring to the back of my head. Its glare almost felt sharp.

I spun around quickly as I could, holding the shotgun in front of me. Nothing. There's nothing, I thought. Until I scanned the tree line in front of me, about 50 or so feet out. Oh my gosh. I let out as I see deep in the forest, a pair of two vibrant yellow eyes staring at me. I was struck with fear, my eyes not being able to leave the sight, my feet almost cemented in the ground. After a minute of me staring at it, it winked at me.

After this, the eyes disappeared and went back into the brush. I didn't know what to think. The only thing that I knew was to not stay in that spot. I ran up the old wooden stairs as fast as I could, but then I remembered the radio call I had gotten earlier. I prepared myself for a bad scene, but when I reached the top of the steps, the hut was empty. Nobody, no lady. The most disturbing thing of all, though, was it looked like this place hadn't been touched in years. The floors in the desk and the room were both completely covered in cobwebs and dust.

A large radio sat on the desk. It must have been the one that came through to mine, but that was too engulfed by the webs. Something very strange is happening. I just couldn't figure it out. On the edge of a desk was a stack of very old newspapers. My curiosity took over and I picked one up. Date, 1978. Headline. Woman attacked and taken by the Wampus Cat, locals say.

This didn't make any sense. This couldn't be the same lady. I just contacted. I needed to find out more, so I kept on reading. The next thing I read sent shivers down my spine. The Wampus cat resembles a very large black panther, most known for their very bright eyes. My skin ran cold. I needed to get out of this place right now. Right as I shoved the newspaper into my pocket and was ready to run, it was too late. Before I could turn around, I heard a sound. That same chilling growl I heard over the radio. I turned around as fast as I could, raising my shotgun. There it was, the beast itself, the wampus cat. This cat was massive,

quite possibly the biggest mammal I had ever seen. It stood on all fours at a staggering height of at least eight feet tall. It had deep old scars all over its body, probably from people like me. Its paws were the size of small dinner plates. The lips were completely bared back, showing its fangs, and the most important thing of all. Those eyes staring into my soul. I didn't waste any time and pulled the trigger, sending a slug at my target.

I landed the shot, but it barely did anything. The cat staggered back when the slug hit him, but that's about it. How is this thing still going? The round had left a hole in its torso about the size of a dollar coin, but alas, the creature was pretty much unfazed. I decided to run for it, booking it to the exit, only to be stopped by the huge feline pouncing on my back and pinning me to the wood floor. The beast raked its claws across my back, leaving a painful wound. It felt like a hot iron.

I could feel my shirt already being soaked. I managed to flip around on my back and face the beast, holding it away from my face. Although I was able to keep its head at bay, I wasn't with the pause. It started swiping at my face, leaving those claw marks on me again. I tried to reach for a shotgun on the ground next to me, but I wasn't able to.

Liquid from the gashes started to seep into my eyes, stinging them, not allowing me to see. With nothing working and all of the strength I was losing, I started to give up. There was no point. I couldn't overpower this thing. And right then I was about to give in, thinking about all of my friends and family. An idea sparked into my head.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the knife I had forgotten about. I flipped it open and immediately got the cat in the neck. The beast reared back in pain, leaping off of me. This was my only chance to escape. I quickly got up and snatched the shotgun before sprinting down the stairs. I had a head start, but the cat was catching up. As I reached the bottom, it was already halfway down. I didn't have any time to spare.

I ran immediately to the trails not looking behind me. I could hear the big, heavy footsteps of the beast on my tail end. I knew eventually it was going to catch up, so I turned around pumping two more slugs in it, staggering it again. I could tell it was hurt because it was moving a lot slower. I fired again in its direction, landing another shot with a splat. Then the cat stopped running, turning around and slowly jogging the other direction. I finally gave up.

This didn't stop me from sprinting back to the station. I used every bit of strength and willpower to make it back. As I busted through the door of the building, the biggest wave of relief came over me. I had won. I had beaten that thing. After attending to my wounds and grabbing a glass of water, I sat down in my desk chair, thankful to be alive. While reaching into my pocket to take out my phone, I felt paper. Ah, the newspaper. I pulled it out, scanned the article once again, realizing that I missed something before. The woman was found in the

watchtower of the Caledin State Park. Even though she was taken, many of the people in the park say they can still hear her calling for help, just like that same night she disappeared. I was completely in shock. I didn't know what to think. Was it a ghost, or maybe a spirit? And right as I put the newspaper down, the radio buzzed, playing the same voice that started this all. Hello. It's been three days since I discovered the truth, three days of isolation, paranoia, and hopelessness. Three days since I met it. I'm not sure how much time I have left. Anyone could be its puppet. lurking outside of this decrepit cabin. So please, if you're reading this, take my warning seriously. There is something out there. Like I said before, it all started three days ago. I recently found a new

hobby exploring the world. So far, I've been to around 40 states and 15 countries. Each place offered a variety of wonderful locations and people. I learned about different cultures, languages, and historical events. I would send pictures and videos to my family back home. I could tell by their messages that they were as intrigued as I was. Unfortunately, during my travels, I also witnessed a couple of battles occur. Those are the days I wish to forget, but nothing was as disturbing as what I just encountered. I was traveling through the forest in the northwestern United States. I was alone with my car and my back seat full of supplies. Eventually, I left my car in the parking lot and started walking down a trail. Every few minutes I would stop and admire the beauty of nature, the plants, the

animals, the nice, cool air. All of it was refreshing and calming. I thought I was going to have a pretty good day, but then the sun began to set. That's when I first saw him. First, I just heard the rustling of leaves and the crackling of sticks. I thought it was some large animal, so I tried my best not to spook it. I was proven wrong when a humanoid figure stepped out of the forest. He was motioning for me to come closer,

but I refused. He shook his head, and before I could react, he charged at me. But instead of attacking me, he just looked at me once he got close. Now that I had a better view of him, I could see that he was an older man with a long, gray beard, and wrist.

dirt-stained clothes. His eyes stood out to me the most. The look in his eyes was that of a deranged, yet horrified person. I stared back up, but the old man shouted, wait, I was growing more concerned as I asked, what do you want? Do you need help? The man smirked and he said, No, I'm fine. It's you who needs help, friend. Friend, I don't even know you, I thought. He continued. I saw something deep in that forest. A coffin. A flying one.

Oh no. He's actually crazy, I said to myself. The man looked me straight in the eye and said, The coffin is home to the demon known as the... Before he could finish, I took off running, leaving him behind. Soon it was night. Only the stars in my flashlight illuminated my path. I was thinking about.

the strange old man. Why did he attack me? What was this demon that he was talking about? Whatever, I thought. I just hope I don't encounter any other insane people. Oh, I didn't. What I stumbled upon was far, far worse. I eventually exited the forest and found myself in an open field. The night breeze was especially soothing after that strange encounter. I took out my blanket and sat on the vast plain of grass. Looking at the stars always helped me sleep, and that night there were quite a few of them. As I felt myself falling asleep,

I heard a particular noise. It was like a deep, reverberating hum coming from every direction. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't believe what I saw. It was a light brown coffin, covered with moss and dirt, and it was flying. Was that old man actually right?

No. this is a dream, I said to the coffin in front of me. In response, an otherworldly voice boomed across the land. Oh, this is no dream, Jerry. In fact, I've been expecting you. I utterly refused to believe this was real. I did everything I could to convince myself that this was a dream. Come on, just wake up. I slapped myself several times. but the coffin was still there. Like I said, this is real. Now, I would like to show you something fascinating. I gave up.

Whether this was a dream or not, it was clear that this thing would not let me leave. Who are you? I asked timidly. It answered, I have so many names. My true name would destroy your sentience, turning you into a mindless husk

so you can just call me the void lurker. Cruel laughter echoed through the field as it saw me get paler and paler every second. The longer I stood before it, the stronger its presence felt. I could tell that whatever this thing was, it was far from benevolent. I found the courage to ask it a second question. What do you want from me? It chuckled again as it said. Good question.

Well, since you stumbled upon my prison, I would like to show you a vision that I find a muse, Before I could even blink, a flash of light seemed to engulf me. The vision it sent me was of a planet, one that clearly hadn't been discovered by humanity. I noticed the barren landscape full of green rocks and a bizarre purple sky. However, that's not what caught my attention. What I was focused on was the life. Yes, this planet had fully sentient organisms.

A vaguely bird-like creature was seven beady eyes and be able. running down its back devoured a swarm of flying insects. What looked like a hybrid between a mutant crab and a rodent scampered into its burrow. I was so fascinated that I forgot about the monster that sent me this vision. At least I did until I heard its horrible laughter echoing through my head. The void lurker chuckled. Why don't you stop looking at this pathetic patch of dirt?

Look behind you. I hesitantly turned around, and that's when I sighed. It was an entire city with buildings that didn't look too odd. Suddenly, I was thrown into the center of the city, and I saw its inhabitants. They were humanoid beings with turquoise skin and yellow eyes. They were clearly interacting with each other, but they spoke a language I could not understand. The entity spoke again. Oh, here comes my favorite part, it exclaimed.

Before I could question what it meant, the entire planet, seemed to vibrate. The panicked and confused citizens looked up at the sky as what looked like a huge portal opened up. No, it wasn't a portal. It was like a tear in the very fabric of reality itself, a gaping hole of nothingness. The entire sky seemed to warp around it as it emitted a dreadful humming noise. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was what the void lurker said. So, do you like my true appearance? because here it is. At least that's as close as you can get to comprehending it. I was mortified. The being who was taunting me, sending me these visions. I barely managed to mutter.

What did you do? It replied with, what did I do to the planet? You're about to find out. The humming grew louder as a horde of abominations descended. Disgusting masses snaked through the city, consuming the terrified citizens. Draconic beast raised countless villages. The depraved creature forced me to watch. Their faces will haunt me forever. The Lurker's minions marched across the entire planet, destroying everything in their path, and then it was over. I was back on Earth, looking at the same floating coffin that housed the eldrich monstrosity that goes by the name of the Void Lurker. I was trying to register what I just saw, what those demons did to that poor world. I've seen wars break out, but I have never seen anything that scared me as much as this.

And that makes sense. That level of devastation hasn't been seen by anyone on this planet. Right when I thought it couldn't get any worse, that sadistic entity just had to tell me one more thing. This stuck with me even more than that vision. You know, it said. I didn't just destroy that one planet. I wiped out every last world in the universe, except for your precious Earth.

That's why you fools were never contacted by extraterrestrial life forms. They're all gone. I just stared at this thing in utter shock. I just felt like collapsing, like giving up and having that thing get me. But I found the strength to ask one last question. Well, why didn't you destroy Earth? The void lurker cackled again before saying,

I was going to, of course, but unfortunately, I'm not the only cosmic force in existence. The others found my actions to be terrible. They didn't understand the beauty of the complete destruction, so they teamed up against me, and after a battle that lasted for eons, they imprisoned me on this coffin on the very planet I intended to annihilate in order to completely wipe out the universe. The funny thing is, I was just in prison just a few days ago, which is why very few humans who came to this field ever met me.

Anyway, I may never escape, but my influence will still spread. Oh no, I thought. Don't tell me. I knew what it meant. It was going to try to possess someone, maybe even a whole population. It wasn't going to stop until it saw the world burn. I've been thinking, The Lurker continued.

Since you know all about me now, why don't I make things a little more interesting? My body froze as I continued to stare at the coffin, dreading what it would do or say next. A tendril of smoke made its way out of the coffin and started wrapping around my body. Its icy form made its way to my face and to my eye. There was no pain, only the loss of hope. It was in there for what felt like hours, though it was probably, only a few minutes. The unnerving tentacle flew out from me and back into the coffin. Ah, the void lurker said, now I know about everyone you have ever interacted with, your family, your friends, your enemies,

even people you've talked to once. I know them all, and now I'm going to influence one, or two, or twenty, who knows. And once they finish you off, I'll have them begin a new range, of chaos. The age of humanity has ended. And with that, the coffin seemed to vanish. I left the field and walked out of the forest without a word. None of the sounds of night calmed me, nor did they frighten me. I was almost numb to my surroundings. Those images of aliens and agony continued to flash in my head. The void lurker's words never left my mind either. At this point, I didn't know what to do. If I didn't tell my family, that demon would easily corrupt them. But then, if I did tell them, they would think I was insane, and the void lurker would still be able to possess them. As I walked to

my car, I saw the same old man standing there. I completely forgot about him. The man flashed a creepy smile before asking, did you meet it, friend? I didn't answer him. I just walked past him with a blank look on my face as I opened the door. He said, so you did. Without another word, I drove off. As soon as I drove, I thought about my plan. I knew I had to warn someone, anyone. I couldn't return home.

For all I knew, my family was already possessed and waiting for me. I eventually stopped at an abandoned cabin, and that's where I remain until now. With nothing but food, water, this people. piece of paper and my thoughts. So please, if you find this, warn someone. They may not believe you, but just have them read my message so they can somewhat be prepared for whatever this thing was planning. Maybe we'll have the chance to prevent the largest disaster this planet has ever seen. I fear I'm running out of time. I hear high-pitch giggling, scratching on the windows,

and I swear I see a few familiar faces. is staring at me from the darkness. It was almost 15 years ago now that I first met one of the most interesting people I know. True to that nature, I also met him in one of the most interesting and unexpected ways. I was out hiking on a trail in Washington State. It was a remote area, but one which I was fairly familiar with. On that particular day, I decided to venture far beyond the hiking trail I normally took, just for the sake of exploration. After some time, I entered a sunlit gully which led up to a local mountain, rife with blooming conifers and serene, glistening pines. I was also alone that day, and felt my soul

rejuvenate a bit with every breath of fresh mountain air. After probably 20 minutes, I was well off the beaten trail, and I found something worrying. I was about to take another step when I paused mid-stride, seeing a circular, jagged, metal ring laying just behind a small shrub. It was a good thing I didn't put my foot down, as the ring proved to be an improvised bear trap. What are you doing out here? A gruff male voice suddenly shouted from somewhere unseen. I looked around, trying to find the person who had spoken, when he chose to step forward

and reveal himself, an older man sporting a long gray beard. then emerged from the brush. He had amber skin, long grayish black dreadlocks, and a scar on his right cheek. He wore a raggedy brown coat that looked hand-woven and old jeans patched in multiple spots by mismatched fabric. His eyes burned like campfires, and his hands clutched a bolt-action rifle

while his lip cradled a sizable wad of chew. I asked you a question, son. What are you doing here? After fumbling on my words for a moment, I was finally able to piece together a response. I was just hiking. Sorry. I didn't know anyone lived out here. The man seemed to silently inspect me for a moment. I felt my pulse sore in my chest, as I wondered what he was intending on doing. We were, after all, completely alone out there. You see that bear trap, son? He pointed to the same trap that I had narrowly avoided. stepping on a minute earlier. I nodded. He tilted to the side and spewed a mouthful of

tobacco spit into the dirt. Guess that means I gotta hide him better. He stared at me completely emotionless, and I felt my heart plunge into the depths of my stomach. I thought he was some maniac hillbilly cannibal, hellbent on having me for lunch. But then he burst into a fit of raspy laughter. I was left there confused and partially horrified as the man continued to cackle for several seconds. Oh, I'm just kidding, son. He wiped a tear from his eye and recomposed himself as I continued silently debating whether or not I should run. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and smiled at me. Apologies, buddy. My wife always says my sense of humor was a bit dark.

I eyed the man over and he suddenly saw. seem less sinister than he had a moment to go. There was this sense of jubilance in his gaze, like he was genuinely happy to see me. It's hard to explain, but it kept me from running. I forced a laugh myself. Good thing for the both of us, I guess. This hiking has given me a major case of swamp sweat. I can't imagine I'd taste too good. The man burst into laughter once more, and this time I joined in. In that moment, I was a moment. I knew I had found a new friend. The man formally introduced himself not long after as Mark Hastings.

After conversing for a while, he told me that he had lived in that particular area for a couple of years at least, though admitted he didn't know exactly how long he'd been there. He said he left City Life behind in 96, and seemed quite surprised when I told him the current year was 2020. Mark's accent was something which struck. me as quite interesting. As it was one, I couldn't quite pin down. He had a significant southern draw, and yet at times also sounded as though he may have had a bit of British influence as well. He pronounced words like again as, again, and had a strange vocal inflection. The best way I can

really describe it as, the way someone speaks in an old black and white movies, proper, and yet somehow country. We got to talking and he told me more about himself. He said he used to do construction back in the day, but when his wife got sick with cancer, it really changed things for him. He said she battled for almost three years, but eventually lost the fight. Afterwards, he was left alone with a mountain of medical bills to account for. Rather than pay them off and attempt to move forward, Mark chose a different path. It's funny, you know. You work your tail off for years.

Begin building the life you want with the woman of your dreams. And then it all just falls apart for no good reason. Then when you, at your lowest, good old Uncle Sam comes in and slaps you with a bill, you ain't ever going to pay back. So I say to hell with them. To hell with their taxes and debt. Out here, I'm truly free. There ain't nothing.

than left for me in the real world anyways. There was a distinct glimmer of pain behind his gray eyes as he said it, and I felt myself feeling sorry for him. He wasn't all what I expected when we first met, just a normal guy whose life fell apart through no fault of his own. In a way, I found it sort of admirable. The system beat him down, and rather than just accept it and be a good little wage slave. He left it all behind with a big middle finger. I visited Mark pretty regularly after that, and tried to make the trek to see him at least once a month. He always seemed to have a smile on his face when I came to visit. Soon enough, he even invited me back to his cabin for a fresh meal and some drinks. I was a bit hesitant at first, but decided to accept. Part of me expected him to prepare a meal

of squirrels and tree bark when he first offered, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Mark made us a fresh rabbit stew with some homegrown potatoes and bread that he had made from scratch. On top of that, he even had his own home-brewed ale to wash it all down. It was surprisingly delicious, and really made me admire Mark more for his resourcefulness. He wasn't just some wannabe camper. He was truly a man of the land. his cabin was reminiscent of one that would have been used by the early 18th century trappers. A hand-crafted stone chimney was his only source of heat, while animal peltz covered the walls and stripes of meat were lying on his jerky rack. There were two couches in the main room, constructed of whittled wood and bearing hand-woven pillows stuffed with feathers.

He had no electronics of any kind, claiming he didn't need those technological doohickeys. anyways. Mark had two hounds, Rowley and Daisy, that lived there with him and were his only real companions. I eventually asked if he ever missed civilization or got lonely out there, but he immediately refuted the question. For a while, yeah, but not anymore. It's easy to forget about society when society already forgot about you. I really grew to admire Mark and even cherish our friendship. Over our many meetings, he would tell me stories about his life, told me all about his business and wife before she passed. The way he spoke about her in particular truly broke my heart. He was a man who met his soulmate and built a life he loved with her, only to have it all ripped

away by the cruel hands of fate. More than anything, though, Mark was always ready to tell me how much he'd hated the government. I think that's what made me like him the most. One night, he and I were drinking some of his home-brewed honey ale and chilling around his campfire. He had just got done telling a story about a five-point buck that he had narrowly missed a few weeks earlier. He finished with admitting that he heard some weird, loud noise from the woods that scared it off before he could fire. That detail got me thinking, and since I've always been a fan of the paranormal and whatnot, I figured I'd go ahead and ask him. You ever see anything really creepy out here?

Mark's eyes open wide, and he immediately lowered his mug from his lips. He wiped the suds from his bushy beard and stared down at the campfire for a couple seconds. I could tell he knew exactly what I meant. He then chuckled and rocked back in his chair with a smug grin. Zach, I tell you, you don't know creepy until you've spent some time out here. He then began to tell me a story. of when he at first began living out there. He said it took him close to a year to finally assemble his cabin, at least partially.

During that time, he and his dogs were living in a simple tent. Mark said that a couple weeks after living there, he started noticing something odd. Every once in a while, he'd awake to find deceased animals just outside the perimeter of his camp. Usually, it was just small creatures like rabbits, birds, and squirrels. But it didn't stay that way. Over time, Mark began finding more and more things left at his camp. He thought it was the work of a Puma at first, despite the fact that the corpses seemed to retain most of the meat. He quickly rethought that through when he found an actual Puma corpse one morning.

He said most of the animals had marks along their sides and necks. and many had been turned inside out. He began thinking it was the work of some deranged person, but even that didn't last long. One night, as he was preparing to turn in for the evening, he heard a rustling sound coming from within the forest. He ducked down underneath some timber in hopes of catching a glimpse of the culprit.

Both of his dogs were already chained up for the night, so he knew it couldn't have been one of them. A figure emerged deeper into the woods, Mark said he didn't see the entire thing, but he could tell that this thing was bipedal and scrawny. I asked if it could have been a bear with mange, but Mark claimed it was too skinny for that. He said he's seen sick bears before, and they looked and moved nothing like that thing. Mark initially planned on trying to shoot it, but after seeing that, he admitted that he didn't think that would have been a good idea.

The creature dropped something on the perimeter. which Mark discovered the following morning was a raccoon. The thing's head then tilted and appeared to stare directly towards Mark. They just stared there in silence for several seconds. Until the dogs began snarling voraciously from inside the tent, they must have caught its scent, and the thing suddenly crouched on all fours and dashed back off into the woods as the dogs went ballistic.

Mark didn't know what he had seen that night, and apparently never saw it again. To me, it sounded like a Wendigo or a Skinwalker based on his description. I told him that, but he had no idea what those things were. He seemed to think that the thing was actually leaving him gifts, but I wasn't so sure about that. I asked him about the typical creatures seen in creepypastas and television lore. I mentioned the Wendigo, Skinwalkers, Slender Man, the Rake,

Sirenhead, and some of the well-known others, but Mark didn't seem to know anything about any of them. He did, however, know about something he called the whistler. Apparently, ever since he had been out there, he had heard an odd whistling sound on occasion. It would start off as a little more than a dull, barely audible noise in the distance. He said at times it would come closer, and at others it seemed like it was further away. Mark thought it was a bird for the longest time, but one night he found the truth. He was chopping wood when suddenly the whistling noise emerged. This time it was different, and it was closer than ever before.

Suddenly, there was a rustling noise from behind him. Mark spun back, but only saw a few branches bristling back and forth. He then heard the whistle again louder than ever before. He looked up, and there it was. About 20 feet up in a large oak tree was some kind of figure. Mark described it as kind of human with a head that looked like some messed up eel. He said he saw the thing stared down at him with beady black eyes. He just froze, and before he could do anything, the thing suddenly leapt from the tree.

It crashed into another further away and continued whistling and crashing as a blended into the depths of the woods. I didn't know what to say to that. I have heard legends about the whistlers out in the woods, but I've never heard about anyone actually having seen one of them. The way he described it sounded quite creative, and I wondered whether he was capable of an imagination so elaborate, or if he had actually seen what he claimed. I asked him whether he thought this whistler was the same creature that was leaving him items, but he just showed. He was just shook his head. Without being prompted, he told me another tale about hearing voices in the woods sometimes, sometimes that of a young girl, and sometimes it didn't sound human at all. I wondered

whether my new friend was perhaps schizophrenic or suffered some mental illness that caused him to hear these things. I obviously didn't tell him that, but his claims had to be met with some amount of skepticism. What do you think it was? Mark leaned back and his head swiveled on his shoulders. No clue, son, and part of me hopes I never find out. He went on to explain that he continued to hear voices on occasion, but never saw who or what was making them. He seemed to think all of the voices were coming from the same entity, though.

Without being prompted, he took the conversation an entirely new accusatory direction. It's the dang government said. messing with things they got no business messing with. He then delved into a conspiratorial rant about how the government, and specifically the guys in black trucks, that were up to some really shady antics. He said they knew about gates in the forest and had been actively trying to open them.

He didn't elaborate on exactly what he meant by that. You see them out here? You know, government, CIA, Mark looked confused. CIA, he asked. It was my turn to look confused then. Yeah, Central Intelligence Agency. You know, men in black?

Mark still appeared slightly puzzled. I didn't understand how a guy like him who hated the government to such an extreme degree had apparently never heard of the mother of all conspiracy agencies like the CIA. He then seemed to have an epiphany and his eyes lit up in recognition. Oh yeah, I forgot about them. He then laughed and shook his head as he downed another swig of ale. My memory ain't what it used to be, I'm afraid. Dang, how could I forget them?

Well, in my defense, they don't carry no badges out here, and their vehicles don't exactly advertise who they work for. He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. But you've seen them out here. Mark met my eyes and nodded, without a doubt. Mark told me that one time he had been tracking an elk through the woods in late autumn. He'd followed the trail for a few miles, when suddenly he heard a noise coming from a grove up ahead.

It sounded nothing like a bear, though, and more like several people arguing. Mark crept slowly forward, taking care not to disturb. the foliage and remained out of sight. After a couple seconds, he saw the outlines of several people emerge in the grove. One man was on his knees in the center, while four men in black suits surrounded him. The man on his knees had wounds and bruises, and his clothing was torn and tattered. He was asking the others for mercy, but they didn't appear to be the forgiving type. Two of the men were speaking quietly to one another, while the other two stood over to

to watch their apparent captive. The man on his knees was dressed in white, with Mark describing his clothes as looking like a surgeon's uniform, or maybe the attire of someone from an insane asylum. He listened, but couldn't make out what the two other men were talking about, but they were clearly arguing. The man on his knees appeared to be weeping softly. Mark said he didn't know what to do,

and before he could do anything, one of the two men who had previously been arguing stepped away. Without a word, the man stepped behind the captive, lifted the weapon, and pulled the trigger. Mark described seeing a splash of red, but said the weapon made a lot less noise than he thought it would of. The man in white fell down onto the dirt. Holy crap, I said, mouth falling agape as Mark concluded his story. I eyed him closely, but didn't. see any aura of boasting in his eyes. They didn't twinkle like that of a man who tried telling a

fabricated story to simply amaze or impress an audience. He didn't look at me at all as a matter of fact. He just clasped his hands in front of his mouth and stared at the campfire with a somber gaze. It was clear to me that he was either an accomplished actor or what he had witnessed truly haunted him. Poor boy, couldn't have been much older than you. I wish I would have done something, but I just ran. He shook his head and his eyes seemed to glaze over. I just stay quiet as there's nothing I could think to say.

After a couple moments of lingering silence, Mark finally spoke again. Zach, I gotta tell you a secret. He looked me in the eye. I don't particularly care for the government. I chuckled, and Mark let out a small laugh. I think you've mentioned that once or twice, I replied with a laugh. Yeah, I suppose I have. But it's not just because the IRS is after me.

It's because of things like what I saw that day. It's because government corrupts by its very nature. It takes what it wants and destroys those who oppose it. ain't no justice, no consideration, and nothing you can do about it. Now I don't know the details of what they were discussing on that night, but I guarantee you that boy didn't deserve what he got. I nodded, but wasn't entirely convinced that he witnessed what he thought he had. You sure it was government that did that?

Could have been drug dealers or mafia. Mark hunched his shoulders and gave me a side-churched, What's the difference? I chuckled, but didn't have a response. Well, I see why you think that, but that's because you ain't spent as much time out here as I have. But what you don't know, and what no one is supposed to know,

is about the tunnels. I peeked an eyebrow at that comment. Tunnels? Mark grinned and nodded back. There are a series of tunnels that run deep below the earth. gotta be a couple dozen of them within a few miles of us now. Government knows about him, maybe even built him, but, well, I doubt that. I think they're just interested by what's inside.

And that is, I asked, now on the edge of my seat. Mark scoffed and shook his head. I have no idea, but it's got to be something bad. I was a bit disappointed with that answer, but Mark immediately drew my curiosity. curiosity back. You want to see one of them? I nodded without really even thinking. Mark grinned. I figured you might. It's a bit late in the day to go now. So what do you say we head out of here first thing in the morning? I agreed without hesitance and I promised to return the next morning to

meet up with Mark. I walked back down the trail that day with my imagination running wild. As I mentioned, I liked Mark very much and enjoyed our conversations. To me, he was somewhat like a compassionate grandfather with a plethora of exuberant stories that may or may not have been slightly exaggerated. I thought about all he had told me, about the found animals and the whistling thing, the voices in the tunnels. I wanted to believe him, but urban legends abound in our day and age. I was still well aware that perhaps he had just concocted these stories after his decades of isolation. I needed to see some proof for myself. Duke glistened on the leaves illuminated by the crimson's sun rising over the hills as I set off the next morning.

It was a bit chilly as I walked, but thoughts of the unknown kept me warm as I went on. Before long, I arrived at Mark and I's usual meeting spot, and fast. found him already waiting there for me. He greeted me, and without hesitation, we began the trek out to his spot. We made small talk on the way, mostly about normal topics, like family and work. After maybe 15 minutes of walking, we rounded a small bend tucked behind a small grove of trees. Mark stepped out in front of a tree to face me. He then grinned and outstretched his right hand.

I followed his gesture and felt my jaw strike the floor. There was an opening in the side of the hill that was lined with smooth stone and bricks. It was quite enormous, with the perimeter having been at least 15 feet wide. The opening appeared collapsed and the entrance was filled with rubble and dirt, looking as though someone had intentionally, yet clumsily sealed it. Is that the tunnel? I asked. Mark nodded. one of many, but it wasn't sealed up like this last time I was here.

How long ago is that? Mark shrugged. Don't know, maybe a year or two. I looked back at the collapsed tunnel. It was clear that someone had gone through a great deal of effort to construct it, but the construction didn't look like a mining operation. I'm no expert in mining or anything, but I can't imagine they would spend the time lane.

brick and creating such a wide entrance. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but the more curious fact was why it had been sealed up. I thought maybe it was just vandals, but that explanation somehow didn't satisfy. What's inside? I asked. Mark paused for a moment and stared toward the wreckage. He then shook his head and spat into the dirt. Bad things. I hoped he'd elaborated. He'd elaborated. on that, but he didn't. I mean, it'd have to be for someone to seal it up like that, right? That's impressive. Would have taken a great deal of effort. He was right about that, but I still felt that there was information that he was withholding from me. You think this is the government's work? Mark nodded. Not a single doubt in my mind about it. Mark's head then

suddenly flick to the side, and he stared into the trees as if something had alerted him. I watched the color drain from his cheeks as his mouth pursed open. We shouldn't go. I don't like lingering here for too long. I didn't argue, as clearly something had spooked him. He and I trekked back to his cabin, checking his snares on the way back. Mark found a pair of rabbits in his traps, and after swiftly slung them over his shoulder. We got back to his cabin, and Mark set to work on harvesting the meat from the rabbits for his stew. I sat around petting Daisy and Rally, as they slobbered all over my knee and panted endlessly. I don't think I ever told you the scariest part about living out here, did I? Mark asked.

I looked up from the two dogs and stared at him, heart now beating with excitement. Mark sauntered over, carrying the meat of the rabbits along with the, with the clump of chopped vegetables. He dumped the plate into the simmering cauldron on the fire, then took a seed across the fire. I stayed silent as he stared down at the flickering flames deep in thought. There are things out there that people don't know about.

Creatures, places, and things that would seem to defy all explanation. The advancement of society and technology has led people to believe they're safe. And for the most part, and they're right. So as long as they stay out of the woods, those things can't get them. But there is something that can. Mark paused and looked me straight in the eye.

I call it the silence. He paused, as if to allow the words to immaculate the dread he felt they deserved. I had an inkling of an idea where the conversation was headed, but just waited for him to explain. There's been rumors about it for a very long time, and it's something that has just been affecting humanity for centuries, if not millennia. People have only just begun to realize it, but if they knew the true extent of what's going on, well, no one would ever go into the woods ever again. He paused and leaned in to stir the pot a bit before sitting back.

People disappear, Zach. No reason for it, no explanation, no bodies are ever found. The cases seem to defy all explanation, and it happens again and again. Mark then suddenly grunted and began rubbing his eye. Oh, dang smoke. Sorry, where was I? The disappearances, I replied. Mark seemed suddenly hesitant, as if he didn't know whether or not he should continue.

Yeah, the disappearances. I don't particularly like talking about this, if I'm being honest. It's not really my business, but you're a good kid, Zach, and I know you come out here a lot, and I'd be devastated if anything were to happen to you. Dred crept around me like dozens of little spiders scurrying on my skin. I couldn't help but raise my guard and wonder where exactly this conversation was headed. Mark went on to tell me about this silence he mentioned. He said that if I was ever walking through the woods and everything went completely silent, I was to drop to my knees and put my face to the dirt immediately. He said to stay that way until the sounds returned to normal. And what if sound doesn't come back? I asked. Spine tingling with anxiety, Mark looked me straight in the eye,

and his words offered nothing of comfort. then God help you He said no more about the subject and I didn't push him on it It was clear he wasn't really comfortable discussing it Beyond his initial warning If he had any theories about what was responsible He didn't voice them

The whole conversation had given me a strong Missing 4-1-1 vibes And I wondered whether he was referring to the same phenomenon Both of us just sort of lingered in silence for a while as the stew finished cooking. After a few minutes, Mark leaned in and scoop two servings into bowls, handing one of them to me. The stew was delicious, as usual, and I happily scarfed it down, as Mark provided his hounds with their dinner as well, although didn't so much as nibble on his own serving. What do you know about mimics? I don't know why exactly I asked, but the thought had suddenly

arisen in my mind. Mark seemed to perk up, but yet stared back with a look of confusion that seemed to contradict his reaction. I'm sorry, what? Mimics, I clarified. Some call them imposters, or liars, things that look and try to act human, but aren't. Mark stared back at me, and a small grin slithered onto his face. Now what would make you ask a question like that? Mark's grin evaporated as he stared back with something akin to contempt. Truth is, some of the things I'd seen from him made me question who he claimed he was. There was just a subtle wrongness to him. In a way, I've never felt the words to accurately describe.

Just curious, I replied, staring back. Mark chuckled, but without any humor in his tone. Your kind always is. ever since your brothers took up arms against one another in the war of gray and blue, your curiosity has been quite insatiable. You think this land belongs to you. Like this country is your own personal proving grounds to pillage and destroy as you please. His form seemed to shift as he spoke,

his eyes shrinking in their sockets, and his skin seemed to twitch. His teeth bared like fangs of a cougar, and his long black hair flowing like a clump of wild eels. He leaned forward in a look that no longer seemed entirely human. Zach, there are things out here that your world of science and logic will never understand, and these things are better left alone. He and I just stared at one another, and I felt my heart beating. I thought about his words, the war of gray and blue,

Could he have been referring to the American Civil War? Why reference that event specifically? What year did you say you moved out here? I asked. Mark grinned, now appearing more menacing than ever before. 96. 1896. I don't understand. I replied, shaking my head.

Your kind never does. His voice has suddenly changed, becoming much more high-pitched like that of a young girl. His head moved to the side, and his grin grew almost literally ear to ear as his mouth stretched impossibly wide. Your kind has conquered this world. Both beast and nature bow to your might. You live in comfort, convinced that there is nothing that can get you anymore. His voice began changing again. But you are wrong. Mark then stood and his form extended, making him tower over me and the campsite. Even Daisy and Raleigh started altering their form, like they were also simply hiding their true form.

I got up and backed away. No longer seeing Mark as the friendly hermit I had thought him to be. I thought that movement would be my end, and that the beast that hit itself in the form of Mark was prepared to devour me whole. Before he did, I had one final question I had to ask. What are you? Mark chuckled, his form continuing to grow grossly inhuman. He then shook his head. Wrong question.

His words bellowed forth, spoken in a chorus of a thousand voices all in unison. I took another step back, wondering what he could have meant by that. Then it struck me. What do you want? The thing I had once known as Mark stared down at me with an entirely human gaze. To watch and protect. We stared at one another, and I attempted to understand what was happening. After all, he had told me, and his time devoted to actually speaking with me,

part of me almost wanted to believe his words were meant to reassure me, like he was conveying that it was me, or more generally humanity as a whole he wished to pursue. protect. After ruminating on it for a while, though, I don't think that's the case anymore. Why are you telling me all this? The thing I had once known as Mark grinned, as if that was the question he was waiting to hear. So you can tell the world. And so, I have. I left Mark and that trail behind, and I have not been back since. That's why I'm here now, to tell the world. as that thing I once knew as Mark instructed me to.

I don't even know why, or what exactly I'm supposed to be telling. Maybe that Mark is not human, and that there are things in the woods that will never be fully understood, or maybe that he is watching, and something has given him a great deal of power for some reason. I wish I had more answers, but I had to share this, regardless of whether anyone will believe it, and needless to say. I don't think I'll be visiting Mark again anytime soon. When 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 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.

it. 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. 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 can't.

technically see the roofs of the houses from the road just off of the parking lot. It was close enough. He hesitantly 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-jee-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'd 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 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. road, even though it had 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, 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. Tap. There was a rhyme to it, 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 expose. I 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 in 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 woods, right? She was scared of the actual trail, let alone the wilderness beyond it.

Erin, you left. You went so far. Erin, where did you go? Erin, 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? Aaron. The voice was clearer now. When I squinted down onto the dark road, I saw the vagus hint of a 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 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 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 attorney, 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 woods, 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 Furness 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, Kala 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 when 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 the 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 nighttime. 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 just,

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, right? 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 dog, was acting odd, even though it was around 7 p.m., and I didn't want to go into the wood since it was still early fall, which meant big spiderwebs 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, excited 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 perked 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! 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 a 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 lock. 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 seemed to be able to see the curtain movements for what seemed like an eternity we were just staring at one another until it twisted its body slowly bones seemed 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 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 writing 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 fiancee 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. 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 10 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 figure the large crack we heard before must have scared him,

so I quickly get myself sordid 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 notices 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, 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 noticed 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 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. I put on my coat, scarf, hat, 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 of potato, but it's massive. 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-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 for 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 and 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 last, 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 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 arithmetic 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 streetlight 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 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 reached 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 vaguely human, 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 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 mind. 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 church, 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 blood. and uncomprehending. I was once afraid of her and for her. Emma, I managed to say, sh, 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 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 window sill. 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 was receding. 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 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 be able to be. 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 trailhead 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 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 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 gun, I shouted, trying to scare them into leaving me alone, looked over my shoulder to see where I was 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 I ran 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 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 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 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 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 seem 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 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, and 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 ten 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 cracking 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 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 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 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 loose. ludicrous to me. I learned later on that I was horribly mistaken. Needlepoint Creek is located deep in the

woods of Indiana. In fact, 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 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 blurt it 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. 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. 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. He 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 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 drag 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. into 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 bed 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 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. 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 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. In a split, at second I saw a large, black, mislike 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 manned. 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. 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 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.

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-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. It 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. 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 was. 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 muscle's 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, turn to the left, and a few feet away was the side of a house where my parents kept the trash, 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 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, 1203, screen door locked behind me, the trash cans to the side of the house, the driveway where during the day I'd shoot hockey pucks 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 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 look 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 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 story 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 just. But I just did. I just. I don't know if it was a coincidence. I don't know if it was a coincidence, 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 keys. 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. 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 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 it was.

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 rearview 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 and 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 50 miles an hour, speeding as I went around turns. I have never wanted out of the backwoods 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. 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. I was, and I was leaving 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 in 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 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 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, 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 Americans 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 and the five years I've ever.

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 Fleshgates 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 coyotes in the air, 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. 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 skinwalkers out. I don't know what will happen, but it's dark out, and I hear howling coming from the woods again.