Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Best Scary Stories of 2021 | MEGA COMPILATION, Skinwalker, Forest, Park Ranger, Missing 411, Wendigo

Episode Date: December 23, 2021

These are 14 Best Scary Stories of 2021 | MEGA COMPILATION, Skinwalker, Forest, Park Ranger, Missing 411 Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy ***All stories have been approved by the authors to allow narration on my channel. I can provide proof If necessary. *** Story Credits:  ►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/j6m8xo/my_skinwalker_story/  ►https://tinyurl.com/42xm68yx  ►https://tinyurl.com/2vpbxetd  ►https://tinyurl.com/2kdhz473 ►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/mpq9xm/theres_something_that_lives_in_the_forest_outside/ ►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/mnzavk/i_used_to_live_in_the_appalachian_mountains_this/ ►https://tinyurl.com/ysrev7x4 ►https://tinyurl.com/zt6bcw ►https://tinyurl.com/368wh5kz ►https://tinyurl.com/x9ptmmy ►https://tinyurl.com/ffyyz9dh ►https://tinyurl.com/wv893du8 ►https://tinyurl.com/2t5649nf ►https://tinyurl.com/tfbbbjdv Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Business inquiries:  ►[e-mail] 💀As always thanks for watching!💀

Spring just slid into your DMs. Grab that boho look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling. Ross, work your magic. I went camping a few months back in New Mexico with a friend of mine, David, who has family there.

If you like rustic desert scenery, there are a few places in this country more beautiful than the Sandia Mountains, northeast of Albuquerque. We spent a good part of our first day, just hoofing it through the Simbolia National Forest as we made our way towards the mountain range. We had plenty more ground to cover before we got to the foot of the mountains, and not much daylight left. So we camped down for the night when we found a place suitably less rocky than the majority of the trail had been. In the interest of traveling light, and for the simple fact that we'd be in a pretty dry climate, we didn't bring a tent with us. So, our tiny camp was, essentially, two sleeping bags next to a fire pit, where we cooked our dinner.

Not long after sundown, we decided to call it a night so we could wake up before dawn and get on the move before the day got too hot. A couple hours or so later, I managed to drift off to sleep. I woke up to the sound of my friend David's voice calling out to me. Hey, over here, come take a look at this. I heard his voice off the trail into the woods near the edge of the clearing. I looked around the camp to make sure I wasn't imagining things and saw David's sleeping bag was open and just empty. I called back to him, sleepily asking what he'd found.

But he'd just repeated himself, Over here, come take a look at this. In my bleary state, I didn't notice how strange the voice sounded at the time. Maybe I was still just half asleep, but looking back, it was. pretty out of the ordinary, almost as if there were two voices layered on top of each other. One was clearly the voice of my friend, but the other was lower and significantly distorted. Grogly, I made my way out of my sleeping bag and slipped on my boots before walking into the

darkness. I was nearly into the tree line when the voice called out to me again. Over here, come take a look at this. It was almost mechanical in its repetition, no shifting in tone or urgency, just the same flat bleat. As I started to shout back at him that I was coming, something grabbed my wrist from behind, then a second hand clasped over my mouth, stifling a short yelp of surprise. The grip on my wrist loosened as I spun to find David staring back at me, his eyes the size of dinner plates. He held one finger to his lips and shook his head as he motioned with his free hand for me to follow him. I was confused to say, the least. But the look on his face told me that whatever was happening, it wasn't good. So I followed

him towards our little campsite. Once we arrived, he pointed at my pack and sleeping bag before quietly beginning to roll his own sleeping bag into a tight bundle. What is going on, man? I asked him stupidly, as I stood in the middle of the clearing. He looked back at me with that same urgent expression and brought his finger back to his lips. He then pointed at my sleeping bag again, and made a rolling gesture. I'm pretty thick sometimes, but I understood his body language well enough to know that something had obviously spooked him,

enough to make him decide to pull up the stakes and find a new spot to sleep in the middle of the night. So, I collected my things and followed him into the woods back the way we came earlier that day. David didn't stop until we were clear of the trees back in the open almost an hour after we started walking. He told me that the voice in the woods I heard was probably a skinwalker, trying to lure me out into the forest. He explained that the Cibola was a

sacred place to the Navajo, and the skinwalkers who hunted there did so to defile its purity with death and dark magic. I was not buying it. I heard stories about skinwalkers, but I was pretty sure David was just trying to mess with me. He was always a bit of a prankster, and I had fallen for a good number of his russes, thick as I am. I was about to call him on his crap when I heard my voice, clear as day, repeat the question I had asked him just before we left the camp earlier that night. What is going on, man? I spun around to see two glowing eyes peering back at me from the tree line, about 20 paces behind us. David let out running, and I followed him. We didn't stop running until we were back at the truck in the parking lot near the entrance of the National Park. We jumped into

the cab and after the engine putter to life and turned over, and we peeled out of that parking lot to the screeching of rubber on asphalt. We didn't talk as we flew down the highway, but David's eyes kept creeping up to check the rearview mirror, so frequently, in fact, that when an enormous black, lumbering figure plotted into the headlights, he had to swerve at the last second to avoid it. Holy crap, was that a bear? I asked, knowing it was far too big to be a black bear. He just shook his head and kept glancing nervously up to the rearview mirror as he redlined the old Ford's throttle. I watched his skin go pale as milk as his eyes locked on something in the rear view. He turned to look through the back window and nearly sent us careening into a ditch, but I grabbed the

wheel and straightened it out. What the hell, man? Was all I could manage as I white-knuckled the steering wheel. It's chasing us, he said flatly. Get your hands on the wheel, I screamed, as he returned his full attention to the task of driving again. I didn't want to look back, but I had to see it. Some part of me still didn't want to believe what was happening. Once I was sure David was focused on the road again, I glanced in the rearview mirror on the passenger's side. I saw those same glowing yellow orbs

beaming from the pitch silhouette of the thing that was way too big to be a bear. It was no less than 20 yards behind us. I watched it rise from running on four legs to a standing position as it threw its head back and let out the most unearthly sound I had ever heard. It was like the drone of a siren mixed with the buzzing and chattering of forest full of insects. The old Ford's radio crackled to life, and the speakers in the car coughed out that same noise. The cacophony lasted for five-year-splitting seconds.

Then it was over, and only the roar of the engine pervaded the silence of the night around us. We drove back to his family's place in Albuquerque, and never spoke about what had. happened that night. Even now, as I write this, it still feels like some kind of horrible dream. When I was in my 20s, I took a job as a park ranger at a state park. It was the perfect job for me at the time. I loved working outdoors. Every day presented new challenges, and I got to work alone. On days when I'd get my work done early, I would find a beautiful spot somewhere in the park and just read or listen to music. It was therapeutic. I had just gone through a tough year. School wiped me out, and I had just broken up with my long-term girlfriend. I needed an escape, and the park provided it.

While working during the day was amazing. The night shift at the park wasn't as relaxing. Do you know how uncomfortable the night can make even the most comfortable spaces in your house feel? Well, the pitch black of Mother Nature is like that feeling on steroids. The absolute worst place to sit during the night shift was the North End Watch Tower. Everyone who worked there called it the Centennial, because it was massive and looked out across the whole forest that made up the park. It was tall, just over 100 feet above the ground, and made of old pine that seemed to retain the scent as if it had been cut the day before. It was basically like a little cabin on top of really tall stilts. However, in the same

Inside wasn't exactly a luxury box. The wall that faced the forest was one large window that gave pretty breathtaking views, but was also really good at giving you feelings of vertigo. Inside, there was relatively meager furniture. There were just two chairs, one for sitting in good weather, and one insulated for bad weather, an old desk, and a single bare light bulb overhead, and a small fan to help keep you cool. I always brought something to read or right because the night watch in the tower is dull as hell. It was quite a hike, too. It took about 10 minutes or so to walk the 10 stories. When you had to do it in the dark at night, it tended to take a little longer. Each story you climbed disappeared into the darkness below you. It could be a bit

unsettling. Once you're on top of the tower, your job for the shift is to basically look for fires or anything else out of the ordinary. When there was a full moon, you could see so much of the woods, but when there was a new moon or cloudy, you couldn't see a damn thing. If it wasn't for the bare light bulb in the cabin, you couldn't see anything. Typically, you would keep in touch with the people in the walkie, and just idle away the hours. I'm not going to sit here and tell you I never dozed off for a while,

but if you had come to visit me on some nights, I might have had sleep creases on my face. Most nights, when I was in the centennial, I brought a book in read or a journal to write in, basically occupy my mind for the shift and ignore the dark. Rangers, especially older ones, love to tell stories about the weird stuff they've seen over the years. People tend to think of parks as safe zones,

where the most deadly thing that can happen is an animal attack. And yes, while animal attacks do occur, Most of the violence comes from people. Campers, drunk, will get into fights or fall into fire pits or get lost on their way to the bathroom. Drifters will sneak into the park and stay in unoccupied cabins or buildings. I cannot tell you the number of times I've walked into squatters chilling in a distant ranger cabin and have had to evict them. But one thing no one outside of the world of park rangers likes to talk about is the parks,

especially at night, tend to be a haven for criminals. I know it sounds crazy at the outset, but it happens. Criminal activity, you name it, it happens. I was lucky to never deal with any of the more heavy stuff. A few times, we found drugs to be sold, or a small patch of weed growing in the woods, but nothing horrifying. But if you've put your time in at a park,

eventually you'll run into something that will haunt your dreams. Not too far off where the park was, there was a correctional facility. It wasn't Alcatraz or anything that high security, but the people there were serious criminals. It was a distance away. On clear nights, you could barely make out the lights from the yard along the horizon, but it loomed large in your imagination. Your rational brain knew that any criminal could have to brave the dangerous forest in pitch black before they ran into you, but a tiny flicker of light

kept a corner of your brain illuminated. It could happen. It won't, but it could. It was near the end of summer, and some of the staff had already split for the year. I was on for a few more weeks, but I was going to get night duty for most of those days since I was on the lowest of the totem pole.

Worse, I would be on sentinel duty for those nights. I know having the least amount of seniority was the main reason, but I know that my boss and a few older rangers play poker those nights as well. Since I had no money or skills, I was sent up to the tower. As the sun was starting to set,

I walked into the central station at the park entrance. A few of the rangers were milling about, messing around. The day shift was relaying night shift things that they could be aware of, that kind of stuff. It was mainly nothing, not a ton of campers in the park this time a year,

just a few sightings of bears nearby. Someone also swearing, as they saw a bobcat, but wasn't sure. But someone walked into the station, and the tenor of the night shifted. Excuse me, a woman about 40 said in an overwhelming polite way, she dressed in leggings, and my guess was she was here to walk the trails. My boss and wannabe Casanova, Jonesy noticed the outfit and lack of a wedding ring,

and shot her his 10-cent smile. Welcome to the state park. How can I help you today? He said, his words dripping with saccharine. Uh, hi, she said, taken back a little bit. I want to report something. Well, maybe report is a bit extreme, but just make sure you're aware of something I saw out on the trails. Sure, what did you see?

She shifted her weight, a little uneasy it seemed. I clocked in and thought it was a little unusual. Sometimes when people see a bear or a bobcat, two things that had been. been spotted recently. They might have their adrenaline pumping and be a bit jittery, but that wasn't it. Um, this sounds crazy, but I think I saw something stalking me out in the woods. I'm sorry to hear that. Probably gave you a bit of a spook, Jonesy said. We've had a few bear and bobcat sightings lately. No, she said definitively. It wasn't a bear or a bobcat. I think it was a person. What trail? Sandalwood, Loop B, I think it's called. That's not that far off from a few campgrounds and fishing cabins.

They didn't look like a camper. Everyone in the cabin had stopped talking and turned their attention to the woman. She noticed, and you could see the red rushed to her cheeks. What did they look like? Um, they looked shadowy, she said, like they were afraid of the sun or something. And they were followed. following you? I caught something in the corner of my eye around the last turn of the loop. I just stopped and pretended to stretch, and I saw something in the woods just off the trail. They were hiding behind a tree, eyeballing me. Jesus, Jonesy said, I'm sorry that happened to you. Thank you, she said, her voice going soft. They followed me until I got to the end of the loop. I started running and lost sight of

them. Jonesy turned back to the two older rangers and told them to hop in a gator cart and go check out the woods for anything. He told them to keep their walkies on and their sidearm just in case. They left in a flash and Jonesy turned his attention to the woman. Can you tell me anything that might help? Did they have any kind of identifiable clothes? Did they speak to you? They, she interrupted. They made noises. Noises, Jonesy asked. slightly confused. Yes, a few. They made kind of a chittering noise.

A faint, um, yelling kind of sound. Possibly cicadas. Another ranger said. A group of them can scare the fur off a cat. Maybe, I don't know. They also whistled, but not like they were whistling at me. It's like they were trying to blend in with nature. Can you describe the noise?

She whistled something that I knew right away. That sounds like a wood thrush. How do you know that? Jonesy said, not being able to help himself. My grandpa was an avid birder. He turned his attention back to the woman. Do you want to file a police report or? No, no, no, she said quickly. I don't even have that much information.

I was just scared and wanted to let you know just in case. Are you sure? Yes, she said. I don't think anyone else was on the trail after me, but I didn't feel right, not telling you. I'm so sorry that happened to you here. The park is supposed to be a place to relax. She laughed nervously. Jonesy shot her a calming smile.

Here's my card, he said, handing her one. If you change your mind, please call me. She pocketed it and nodded. She turned to leave and then stopped. She turned back, and after a brief pause, said, something else that's weird. I saw this thing on both sides of the trail. He crossed behind you? I didn't notice him doing that, but he must have, because I saw him on both sides. Unless there was more than one of them, I said, instantly regretting it. Jonesy turned and gave me a

Jesus, dude. Look, and I clammed up. Do you need someone to escort you to your car, ma'am? No, I'm right out there. Thanks, though. She said as she walked out the door. We heard her motor away a few moments later. Sorry, I said before Jonesy could say anything. He sighed. No worries. Just don't go freaking out guests. We need people like her to come back. People like her to come back. Right. Was I too obvious? Jonesy said with a smile. What do you think she saw? I asked. A Wendigo, one of the other rangers said, and everyone laughed. Having read about Wendigows and Skinwalkers in a mythology class, I didn't find it so amusing. Might have been her eyes playing tricks on her.

If someone is out there, those two will find them. They're good at tracking, and whatever is out there couldn't have gotten too far. Great night to be up in the tower, I said with a smirk. It's probably the safest place to be, Jonesy said. no one climbs 10 stories if they don't have to. I hung around for about another half hour or so to see what came of the trackers. They came back and said there wasn't anything around the sandalwood loop, no footprints of anything they saw.

Granted, the leaves had started to fall, so it was hard to see anything on the ground, but I trusted their tracking skills. Not going to lie, even with those guys coming back empty-handed, I was still a bit nervous about the shift. Jonesy was right, though. No one climbed stairs unless they have to. This was still America, after all. Laziness always wins.

Also, there was nothing in the cabin above the trees except me. A book and a journal. Nothing worth making the journey. As the sun slid behind the horizon, I started a trek to the centennial. When I got to the platform at the bottom, something caught my eye. The tower base is lousy, with stickers tagged. and names carved into pine. Usually, it's Joe plus Jane forever,

or something along those lines. But what had been freshly cut was a bit different. It was a pair of eyes. Had the earlier events not happened, I probably wouldn't have even noticed the eyes. I chalked it up to my mind, already being primed to see some spooky stuff. I assumed it had been some kids earlier

or some older rangers looking to give me a scare. Whatever it was, I did a quick glance around me before I started up the stairs. From the vantage point high above the trees, you can see storms rolling in. Tonight was no exception. It was a waning crescent moon tonight, so it would be a bit dark, but those rain clouds made it pitch black. The only natural light I would see would be the occasional burst of lighting inside the clouds.

The wind had picked up too. You could tell because there is a slight shift in the tower when the wind gusts. Not a lot, but just enough to notice. You get used to it, but when it first hits, it can be a bit jarring. There are a few wind gusts, but I settled in for the evening and stopped noticing. About an hour later, my walkie crackled to life. How's the view? It was Jonesy. Great, I said. We're about to do a pass around the park, wanted to give you a heads up. I leaned towards my chair and glanced through the window towards the base. I saw Jonesy and a few other rangers getting into their gator carts to head out.

Their headlights were bright, but only because there was literally no other light down there. The beams themselves only saw a few feet in front of you. Thanks. You guys need me to scout anything for you? No, we'll be fine. But hey, if you see any Wendigows, let me know, huh? Funny, I said. If you hear any thrushy, is singing again, run, those boys should be all in bed by now. I'll keep that in mind,

be back in a half hour, 40 minutes tops. Over and out, I said, and I placed my walkie and watch those tiny ants drive off into the woods and out of sight. I kicked back in my chair and started reading again. That's when I heard a bored, a creak. At first, my mind assumed it was probably just the wind pushing the tower. It can cause a creaking sound in the tower, but my brain pushed away the fog of rationality, and a more terrible thought became clear. What if someone was outside the door? I would have heard them walking up the stairs, right? I looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. Outside of smashing my walkie or flashlight into the potential person's head, there wasn't much. If I did need to escape, light and communication would probably be a good thing to have,

didn't want to go and break essential equipment. I grabbed my walkie and press the button. Jonesy? I said, trying to sound confident. Jonesy, you there? I knew there was a chance he might be out of range. Sometimes these walkies can be wonky in the forest, and I was praying he would respond.

But the longer I heard the static, The less hope I had he could hear me. Jonesy. Just curious if you guys had circled back this way. Finally. Yeah, Ned forgot his light and we came back, but we're heading out now. Okay, I said, Hey, odd question, but did anyone come up to the centennial by chance?

Just you, he said and then added, why? I thought I heard a board creak. It's breezy tonight, storms coming in. Probably just the wind, or the Wendigo, he said, chuckling to himself. Have fun, I said, ending the conversation. I pulled my walkie back down and stared at the door that leads to the stairs. The odds that someone would have walked up here to put a scare in me was remote. Like Jonesy said earlier, no one walks ten stories unless they have to,

but what if the woman from earlier had seen someone or a group, and they were looking for a place to hide out. Would the Centennial be a good choice? Maybe. I don't know how the criminal mind works. Regardless, for my own sanity, I would have to swing open that door and see if anything was there. It was probably nothing, but I needed to be sure.

If not, the rest of my shift was going to be miserable. I quietly walked across the cabin to the door and grabbed the handle. I counted down from three in my head and swung the door open, There was nothing there. In the distance, a flash of light crashed, and thunder rolled. But no person was standing there. I sighed and then stepped on to the landing. You really feel the breeze up here now.

The storm was moving in quickly. You could smell the rain coming. The earthy scent that the raindrops stir up was all around me. Even though I was sure there was no one outside the cabin, I wanted to check out the stairs just in case. I walked over the stairs and stared down. In the darkness, the stories below me just merged with the night. I couldn't see anything.

I pulled out my flashlight and shone the beam down the stairs next to the landing. The flashlights we had were decent, but not ideal. Cops got a thousand lumen flashlights to shine in your eyes when they pull you over, and we were lucky to get half of that. It's not like we'd need adequate lights working in pitch black or anything. I walked down to the first landing and glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place. I flashed my light down the next landing, and something caught my eye.

The light reflected off of something on the stairs. Not unlike a toddler, I made my way to a shiny object. I was a little surprised to find a small piece of reflective strip on the stairs. I didn't remember seeing it on my way up. I would have picked it up and thrown it away. It looked like it had been ripped off a jacket or a uniform or something. But how did it get up here? The wind might have blown this up from the campsite, but that felt wrong. It was. I turned to climb back into the cabin when I froze. On the

railing, something had carved another set of eyes. I didn't move. I stood there as my brain tried to piece together an excuse that made sense, but it was failing. Even when I started to feel the patter of rain on my face, I didn't move. What the hell was going on? fearing that something might be looking at me. I clicked off my flashlight. I know I said earlier I didn't want to waste essential tools, but at this point I was ready to brain someone until the damn thing broke. The rain started to come down a bit harder,

which helped to break me from my fugue state. I was about to start back up towards the cabin when I heard the floorboards above me, squeak. There was a crash of thunder nearby, and it barely registered in my mind. I was so tuned into the symphony of pine stairs that a bomb could have blown off near me, and I'd miss it. After what felt like 17 hours, I hadn't heard anything else.

I relaxed a little bit. It was probably nothing. My mind was overreactive, and I was red, stringing together desperate events into a cohesive narrative to scare myself. I was sure that was it. Then I heard something drag across the pine above me. It sounded like someone was gouging out the wood. I didn't know what to do.

My legs felt like jello. I wanted to go streaming down the stairs, but I was afraid I would make too much noise. Plus the idea of running down eight stories of now wet steps didn't sound ideal. I slowly started making my way toward the stairs heading down when the gouging noises above me stopped. After a slight pause,

I heard footsteps head towards the door of the cabin. Someone was up there. I was sure of it. but what they wanted to do, well, I didn't want to think about that. I slowly started down the stairs, careful to not let any of them squeak underneath me. I kept my flashlight off and descended into the darkness. I reached for where my walkie should be and curse to myself when I realized I had left it up there. As if on cue, I heard the cabin door swing back open and heard an object crashing through the trees towards the ground.

As it passed me, I heard the familiar. static of the walkie. Whatever was in the cabin had just tossed my only lifeline to the outside world. Well, that wasn't good. I hastened my trip down the stairs as I rounded the landing for the sixth story. I suddenly heard the familiar call of a wood thrush three landings below me. Only the thrushes were gone at this time of night. This, this was a person. He made the noise again, and it clicked as to why they would give their position up. He was signaling to the person above me. He was letting him know where I was,

one above, one below. I was trapped. Above me, I heard someone start down the steps. They move slow and steady, deliberate. Whoever was up there was coming down to me, and I had nowhere to go. I thought about jumping down and tried to grab a branch on the way,

but I knew that would end poorly for me in the best of scenarios, and deadly and worse. They rounded down the second story. I was running out of time for a plan. I could rush down the stairs and tried to bull rush whatever was down there, but the rain was coming down harder now, and we could slip and fall off the tower.

The only thing I had going for me was the darkness. I had the only light and the outside of the occasional lightning flash. It was dark as hell. It would cloak me if I had a spot to hide. As I rounded the landing above me, I made a decision that, looking back, was one of the wildest things I ever done in my life. I wake up some nights gasping for breath because I dreamed about doing this. The instinct to survive is so deeply ingrained into our animal brain

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I clawed into the wood with my hands, hoping my nails digging into the pine would counteract my wet palms. I closed my eyes, partially to shut out the pain of my arms and partially because I was afraid of the whites of my eyes would get noticed. I heard the footsteps turn the corner and start coming down the stairs right next to me. I held my breath.

My arms were burning, and I was so afraid I would lose my grip. The person took the steps one at a time, slow as possible. They were looking for me on the landing, but didn't see me. Suddenly, whatever it was, started chittering in the darkness. A few seconds later, the woodthrush called back. The footsteps stopped coming down the stairs and started going back up. No, no.

In a flash, a solution came to me. I used my right foot to kick off my left boot. Suddenly, I was glad I didn't take Jonesy's advice to keep the laces as tight as a drum. I kicked my boot off onto the landing below me, and they landed with a heavy crash. The footsteps stopped going up the stairs. I freed my other boot, and it crashed down next to their partner on the landing. It sounded like I was down there. The footsteps walked right past me, heading down quickly to surprise me on the landing below.

As soon as they rounded the corner, I called upon my... strength and my body to quickly pull myself back over the railing. I landed with a thud, which gave away the ghost. I popped up and dashed up the stairs to the top of the cabin. I knew they'd be right behind me, so I didn't hesitate. In seconds, I was at the top of the stairs and outside of the cabin door. I was met with another pair of eyes carved into the wood. They stared back at me, watching and waiting to see what I was going to do next. I dashed into the cabin and leaned against the door to brace against anyone trying to burst in. I knew two people. At least I hoped they were people, were coming, and they were not going to stop until they got into the cabin.

Another bolt of lightning flashed nearby, and the ensuing thunder shook the tower. Things were close. I glanced up and noticed that someone had carved yet another set of eyes staring at me above the window. Only this time, they left a message with the picture. You watch us. but who's watching you? I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I swallowed hard as two sets of footprints reached the top of the landing. Sure enough, they charged onto the door, pushing it open slightly. I braced hard against the door and started yelling.

Just the most primal screaming I've ever done. They kept thumping the door. Each time pushed the door open a bit more and a bit more. I was struggling to hold out against them. I was tired and my socks were something. slipping on the wood. It was only a matter of time until they burst through. I thought about my life. I thought about my parents, my friends, all of the things I'd never get to do. Then the hair on my arm started to stand on end. Then my leg hair. Then my hair started to rise. Only, it wasn't fear

that was causing this. It was something much more primal, much more natural, much more powerful. I dashed across the room and sat on the insulated stool, a beat-up wooden seat with glass legs, and held my feet up. The door burst open and I saw two sets of eyes staring at me. The two faces grinned, and the cabin light reflected off of the blade of a knife. I screamed as everything went white, and what sounded like the sky splitting into two erupted around us. Lightning had struck the tower. I was safe, glass and wood are crappy conductors, but the two men who were standing in a puddle weren't so lucky. The blast had shocked them and sent them tumbling down the side of the tower.

When I opened my eyes, I could see the burn marks across the pine and the smell of fire that had been started. Without giving a second thought, I dashed out the door, careful not to catch myself on fire, and ran down the stairs of the centennial. It may take about ten minutes to climb up, but it took me about two minutes to get down. As soon as I hit the bottom of the landing, I saw the light of the gator carts pull up. I collapsed on the ground as Jonesy and the other rangers rushed over me. I glanced up and saw his face, and I started to sob.

Above him, the flames licked and ate away the tower floor by floor. It would burn for over an hour. Later I learned that the two men taken by the lightning were escaped convicts from the jail. Both of them had beat up a guard, grabbed their clothes, and headed out into the night. the woods three days earlier. The escape had been kept quiet because they didn't want to spook anyone and thought they'd track them down in the woods sooner rather than later. Why scare people if they didn't have to? Also, that's so ridiculous. They both have been convicted of murder, and I swear this is what the police told me. The criminals had ill intent

for me. I told the officers I had gathered that. Thinking back, they probably watched me climb up the tower later and saw an easy target. When I had first heard the floorboard squeak outside the door, the criminal that had followed me up made a quick decision to climb up onto the roof of the cabin to prevent me from seeing him until he was ready. I probably didn't hear anything on the roof because of the fan and the rain. I think about what he could have done to me if he had caught me by surprise, jumping down from the roof and shudder. At best, I'd be stabbed by a madman. At worst, I tumble ten stories to the end. Either way, not a great thing to linger on during idle hours. That was my last day as a ranger. I was due back to school in a few weeks, and I needed to calm my nerves. Everyone understood, they even

paid me out for a week, which was nice. I also took a small part of the sentinel as a momental of the ordeal. Every time I look at that piece of wood I took from the tower, I wasn't reminded of what could have happened to me, but instead of what I did to survive. Someone was watching me that night, but it wasn't just the criminals. It was nature herself. This incident was the most terrifying experience of my life. This happened in the fall of 1982 in Baxter State Park, Maine. I lived in Manchester, New Hampshire at the time, and desperately wanted to get one last camping trip in before the weather changed and the region would become buried in snow and tourists from out of state for the skiing season. It was early November, and it was still warm during the day and nice

and chilly at night, perfect for sitting around the fire and relaxing. I loved the outdoors, I still do, but the events of that night in Maine would leave a mark on me for the rest of my life, My husband worked all weekend at the hospital downtown, and both the kids were at Grandma and Grandpa's for the weekend. I called in sick to work, loaded at my Bronco, strapped the canoe on the roof, and hit the interstate. I was on the water late in the afternoon. I loved this area because of how remote it was. I was a few miles from my launch site where the truck was parked, when I spotted a perfect place to camp. I paddled toward the shore.

This is a great spot, I thought to myself. I set up my little tent, built a fire, and unfolded my packed chair to relax. The day turned into night, and I crashed out in the tent. The following day I awoke to the sounds of birds chirping. It was a little cooler, but still great weather. I took my camera out into the forest to take some pictures. I did some fishing and just enjoyed the peaceful stillness of this remote wilderness. The day was uneventful, and soon after dinner I lay in my tent with my flashlight reading,

I must have dozed off because I awoke startled by something moving outside my tent. I laid still, but instinct told me that there was something outside. I could hear the carefully placed steps of something, There are moose and black bear up here. Moose can be very dangerous if you walk upon them by surprise. The bears generally smell you before you see them and keep away. I lay still and listened. Whatever it was had stopped at the entrance flap of the tent.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out a faint, shadowy shape. I was wide awake now and on full alert. Whatever it was, I could hear it sniffing around and panting out of breath. I slowly began to unzip the tent when it ran off. I opened the flap of my tent and looked out just in time to see the branch of swaying, and hear the sound of something moving through the brush and into the deep woods. The sound of its steps told me one important thing.

It was on two legs. That couldn't be right. I hadn't seen any other people since entering the park and leaving my truck at the trailhead. The tourist season for leaf peepers had passed, and even so, someone could only reach this location by the waterway. I suppose someone could be out here, someone I hadn't seen or heard until they came sniffing and snorting around my campsite in the middle of the night. I guess it was possible. As the sun rose, I ate at the sun rose, I ate at. my breakfast but remained on guard. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I felt a presence

in the forest, someone or something, just out of sight. I kept a 45 revolver when I camped out here in the North Woods. I wasn't concerned about the wildlife so much as the weirdos you might run across. In my experience, the scariest thing you can come across when you're alone in the deep woods is another human. I couldn't be sure if someone were out there, but the paranoia had began to take hold. It was dark now, and I was inside my tent. I kept the revolver close and my boots on.

I was done playing games. I sure didn't plan on shooting anyone, but I was sure to show them I was no easy target. I sat up quickly. I must have fallen on. asleep again because I was startled awake by movement all around the tent. The shadows everywhere, on all sides in all directions. I could hear sniffing and snorting, low growls and raspy breathing. What is happening? I thought in a panic. It didn't sound like people, but the height of the shadows

cast against the flaps of the tent in the moonlight revealed prominent, upright figures. There must have been five or maybe six on all sides. Fear shook me as I made the realization. I was surrounded. The low growling started. It was answered back on the other side and all around me. Low, deliberate growling. Were these coyotes?

were the massive shadows just the light playing tricks on me. The growling increased in pitch and intensified, and I knew an attack was imminent. I pulled my revolver and fired straight up into the air. The next moments were a complete blur. I charged through the tent with just the clothes on my back, my 45, and the truck keys in my pocket. I bolted straight for the canoe and muscle.

it into the water. I jumped in and began paddling. I never looked back until I got far enough from the shore. I should have never looked back. They were standing completely still on the riverbank. Their bodies crouched down with heads low, eyes reflecting in the moonlight. They looked like giant coyotes, or maybe even wolves, six in total. I was transfixed by what I was transfixed by I was seeing. I had never seen a coyote this large. As I sat in the safety of my little canoe, studying these creatures, they did something that I will never forget. They began to stand up on their hind legs. Each one would slowly raise up on two legs. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. They all stood like men, these things, these creatures that had almost an,

ambushed me. I turned and furiously paddled as the howling rang out behind me. I haven't been in the forest since. This happened a year ago and I can't stop thinking about it. No matter how hard I try in quiet times, my mind goes back to that night. The night I found out you really should be frightened of the dark. My sister lives in a backwater town, a bit of a drive away. I had gone to see her in such a long while, I decided to use my week vacation to drop by. I was bringing over gifts and clothing I had grown out of for her. She's a fantastic cook. Spending a week, having some good home-cooked meals, and no reliable internet was just what I needed. I packed up and got on the road pretty excited for my week away, but I had been so busy tying up loose ends for my trip. I got going

very late in the day. The sun was already setting by the time I got on the highway. She knew I was going to get in late. I might arrive by 11 a.m. and I would call her when I was getting close and she could greet me by the door. I found myself on a dark highway surrounded by farmland for miles. When it wasn't farmland, the highway was cut through dense trees. While I was driving, I saw something I never thought I would, something that made me pull over. Speeding along, I saw a figure walking along the side of the road. My headlights reflecting off the white sweater they were wearing. It was a small figure, so I felt safe stopping, and at least looking to see if they needed help.

My entire life, I had never seen someone just walking along the side of the highway. I hadn't seen a house for a long time, or a car that had been pulled over. I had no idea where the person came from or where they were trying to go. I stopped my car and got out to get a good look at the person in the dark. They had also stopped when I pulled out in front of them. I lifted my hand and gave a weak wave and got one back. Do you need help? I called out and waited. When I didn't hear anything, I started to walk towards them.

It wasn't a good idea for a short woman like myself to approach. a stranger on the side of the road. It could be an ambush, but my brain wasn't thinking about that. I was concerned because the figure was clearly a child. When I got close enough to see, I could tell that he couldn't be older than 13. I was guessing it was a boy, but it was hard to tell with the baggy clothing and shoulder length wavy hair, white wavy hair. I had my cell phone out and using the flashlight function on it to see if the boy was. hurt. I stopped a few steps away from him, and he looked up at me. One side of his face was covered by his hair. One red eye looked back at me. I frozen fear for a half second, but mentally

berated myself for such a reaction. The boy's hair now made sense. He was albino. I never personally met someone with this condition, but I had seen photos. Would it be possible to get a lift to the next town over? The boy asked in such a low, soft voice, even standing as close as I was, I could barely hear him. Of course. Why are you on the side of the road, sweetie? Come on, get in the car. I have some water. He followed behind me silently. He wasn't crying or anything. And the odd thing was, he wasn't wearing any shoes either. It was just so strange. I had to call the police. I knew that, but I wanted to.

to make sure he was all right first. He climbed into the passenger seat so I could see him more clearly. He was so pale, his skin almost looked silver. He looked so small and frail, he would have no chance with someone with bad intentions. I gave him a bottle of water and let him drink it before asking more questions. What's your name? I asked. I'm Nikki. I added my name in, thinking that he would be more comfortable if he knew it. Ellie. Again, he spoke so softly I could barely hear him. I at least got a name out of him.

I needed some more answers, though. What were you doing on the side of the road? Do you have someone I could call? I asked as nicely as I could, hoping it would make him speak some more. I'm heading to the next town to meet an acquaintance. He's an officer. I have no one you can contact. If it's possible, it would be not.

nice to get a ride to the police station. But please do not go out of your way for myself. At least the kid was polite. I debated on what I should do. He wasn't injured and he wanted to be taken to the police. If that was the case, I could just drive him and not bother calling someone to pick him up. It really wouldn't be any trouble to myself. And he wasn't a threat to me either. He was so small, even if he pulled a weapon, I could swat it away. I decided to take him where he needed to go. All right, I'll take you. Are you sure there isn't anyone I can call?

I asked once more. He only shook his head. Either the poor kid really didn't have any family, or he was running from them. At least he was on the way to some help, so I decided to not press the matter. I started up the car and put the directions on my phone to the police station he wanted,

and we were on our way. The whole thing was a bit weird, but not supernatural weird. That came after. Ellie didn't talk while we drove. The poor kid must have been so exhausted from the walking. He nodded off. I was glad he trusted me enough to nap right beside me. I would send a message to my sister telling her I would be late.

We drove in silence for a little while when I saw yet another thing that I never expected to see. A car just sitting in the middle of the middle of. the road. I saw it soon enough that I slowed down and stopped a few feet from it, just staring at the odd sight. We were on the highway, but it was the dead of night, and I saw no cars. Plus, any cars coming from behind us would see both cars stop soon enough to break safely. The car had the driver's side and passenger doors open. I sat on a strange angle, idling. When I reached to undo my seatbelt and get out to see what was going on. I felt a small hand on my arm, and it made me jump.

Keep driving. Ellie's voice was so stern it froze me in place. It was no longer the voice of the soft-spoken child I had heard before. But someone could be hurt. I stammered, not knowing how to react. They're already gone. My mind couldn't process those words. I suddenly started to question who I let in my car,

and if I was safe. But my rational mind said that the car in the middle of the road was a trap. Once I got out, I could be dragged into the middle of the woods by whoever put the car there to start with. Movement made me pull my gaze away from Ellie and to the road. Out from the front of the car, a large dog came trotting out, staring at us. At first, I thought it was a breed of husky, but it took a few moments to realize my mistake. This wasn't a dog. But a wolf.

I had never seen a wolf in person before. They were much bigger than I had ever thought. Its yellow eyes stared us down, waiting for us to react. Then another came from the trees. This whole thing was crazy. My mind couldn't put it together the two facts of the car in the middle of the highway and the wolves wandering around it. Wolves weren't native to the area.

Coyotes may be, but not wolves. If the car was placed to ambush people, then why were the wolves in the area? I don't understand any of it. I understood less when the wolf by the car started to stand up. My throat closed up and my body tensed as I saw the creature seamlessly turned from a wolf just standing on its back legs to a hulking monstrous form that towered into the darkness before us. Drive. Ellie ordered, and his hands gripped onto my arm, hurting enough just to bring myself back.

I don't understand. I said still, but a bit dumbfounded. Silver King, oh Silver King, a pleasure it is running into you here. Come out to greet us. The figure standing in the road roared at us in a booming voice and outstretched its clawed arms in greeting. It was covered with dark rough fur, with a body similar to a man. Its head was large, but looked like the wolf that had been looking at us seconds before. Its legs were the same of a wolf also, and I wondered how it was even standing. Behind it, a tail nearly half the size of its body, moved back and forth. Is that a werewolf? I asked, the idea sounding completely insane. Monsters weren't real. They just weren't. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but it was in front of me, standing there, beckoning us out.

I looked over to Ellie expecting him to disagree or even call me crazy, but I only saw a look on his face saying not to ask him to say the ridiculous truth out loud. Before I could ask again, the creature outside spoke. Come out, we have such treats tonight. On its odd legs, it walked over to the idling parked car and easily ripped off the back door so it could reach in and bring something out. I froze when I saw he was holding a stuffed rabbit. A person had been inside of that car.

My head started to swim and I felt sick. Again, my hand went to my seatbelt, even though I had no idea how I could help in any way. I told you, they were already gone. Do not leave this car. I cannot protect you. Ellie warned in his gravely stern voice, Didn't he just call you the silver king?

What's that about? I demanded in a low hiss. That is my title. I am the king of them, the king of everything born in the moonlight or the dark, and as I could easily take them. I cannot do so in order to protect a human. I am their king, not yours. So stay in the car. I couldn't help, but stare silently at this helpless boy. He no longer looked like the weak, frail child I had picked up on the side of the road. He looked more frightening than the monster outside. But I couldn't help but trust him. His hand gripped into my arm one last time, then slowly pulled back.

He was done warning me. If I got out, I would be taken. I may have already been taken if he hadn't picked me up. Those monsters, those werewolves could rip car doors off. I was idling and nothing was stopping them from dragging me out of the car to rip me apart. Nothing aside from who was sitting next to me, but I still felt like I couldn't just leave. I turned my attention to the dark beast still in the road, teeth gleaming in the moonlight,

a cruel smile over what him and his pack had already done. Without a second thought, I got the car out of the park and slammed down on the gas. Ellie was jerked forward in his seat as my car sped forward, directly towards the monster in front of us. The thing could have jumped out of the way, but I think he wasn't expecting it and his reaction had been delayed. The car slammed into the werewolf, knocking him. back. I expected more damage to both him and the car, but we got off pretty all right. That was until the car was in reverse and ran directly over the creature's legs, it howling in pain. It was not good for my junker of a car, but it was worse off for the wolf. I could only risk running it over

once. I saw more of the wolves in the woods glaring at us. Slamming on the gas once more, we sped off leaving the monster in the road. Even as I drove, I could see his legs were healing and snapping back into place. I doubted I did any lasting damage, but I was sure I heard its pride. The others in the woods could have caught us before we got away, but my passenger must have scared them enough to stay away. We were silent for a long time as I drove along the empty road, listening to my car making grinding noises from time to time.

Was that stupid? I asked finally. Yes, but justified. I wanted to laugh. The whole night had just been so out there, I didn't know what else to do. But I held it in, thinking it would be in poor taste. Once my racing heart slowed down,

I noticed I was going well over the speed limit. I thought to slow down, but would rather a ticket instead of those creatures catching up. Ellie didn't talk to me again until we arrived to the police station. Are those things going to find? me? I asked slowly. No, I doubt it. They're unaware of your relationship with me. If you had some future use and they got you, I would be very upset with them. And the creatures of the night do not

wish to upset me. I sighed in relief, but it came too soon. However, since you have encountered something like them, you are more likely to encounter something else you humans would call supernatural. You're almost guaranteed to be taken by a supernatural threat after surviving the first one. I am unsure when that shall happen. It could be when you're a hundred or a week from now. Going by your luck, seeing as you came across myself and a pack of wolves in the same night, I think you don't have a long life. I should have been worried about my bleak outlook, but I couldn't help but want to laugh again by Ellie, apparently being a little bit of a little bit. embarrassed calling them werewolves. I wonder why he disliked them so much. Is there anything I can do

about that? I asked, hoping for a good answer. Enjoy the life you have left. You humans could be gone at any second. You just so happen to know the most likely reason why you are to perish. I would suggest not to fear it. Just live the way you like. It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but I would take it. my face fell trying to figure out what my life would be like from now on how I would be able to live knowing that there was some things in the dark just waiting for me Ellie noticed my face and let out a small sigh he looked from me and the police station we were parked in front of you did do me a favor so I will grant you one in return

if you come across something of the night and if you have time to do so tell them you are useful to the silver king However, you may only use my name once, and I do not promise that thing shall spare you. It only gives you a better chance of survival. I didn't know much about his world, but even I could tell that this was a huge favor he was giving me. I was thankful for it. Just dropping his name may give me a few more years to my life. He saved me twice that night, and all because I gave him a ride.

Thank you. I gave him a smile and watched as he got out of his life. the car. I waited until he was on the steps of the police station, out of habit. He could handle himself, but I still wanted to make sure he got inside safely. I sent my sister a message saying I was going to be a bit late. I then drove off, leaving the odd person behind. Since then, I hadn't seen anything strange. I sold my car while I stayed at my sister's place and got a new one, just in case a certain wolf remembered what hit him while I drove back home. I didn't tell my sister what happened,

aside from finding a kid on the side of the road and turning him in. There was a report of a car found on the highway, but I didn't want to know any more information about it. I don't want to know who was lost that night and how I couldn't do anything to help it. I still can't help but wonder how Ellie is doing and who he was meeting that night. but it's best if I never see him again and never find these answers.

I live in a small town in central Alabama, and on nearly all sides, my town is surrounded by a forest. Growing up, I never thought anything of the forest. Many kids would play in it. We'd get our hands on BB guns and play war games. Some of my friends and I would build forts out there. Nothing about it ever scared me. That was until someone went missing. I was in ninth grade when it happened. The kid that went missing was in sixth grade. My town has a population of around 1,200, so there weren't many suspects that the police could go off of.

The days of searching turned up nothing. After the fifth day, the search was called off, and the boy was declared missing. It was our little town's tragedy. For the next couple of years, no one allowed their kids into the forest for obvious reasons. Every year there'd be a ceremony to remember the kid and all of the schools would let out early that day. Once again, however, more people went missing during a hunting trip.

I was the only survivor. It was the end of my senior year, and to celebrate my dad wanted to take me on a hunting trip. I was never really into hunting like he was, but I decided to tag along, since I didn't spend too much time with my dad. He brought along two of his buddies, Randy, who was around 5'10 and had shaggy brown hair, and Hector, who was 6'1, slightly chubby, and had balding blonde hair. I hadn't really interacted with them before the trip, so it was a little awkward at first. My dad said we'd be in the woods for a good long time. He had planned for us to go early in the morning and come back late at night.

He told me to pack whatever drinks and snacks I wanted. I only brought waters for my drinks because I didn't want to get dehydrated. As for snacks, I brought the classics, Little Debbie's, chips, etc. I was given a 300 Winchester Magnum for my rifle. I'd shot guns before, so I wasn't worried about misfiring or missing my target. The day we were going, I was woken up at like 4 a.m. by Hector. He told me that my dad and Randy were just about ready. I got up and put the clothes that I had picked out for the day on.

When I went out to the kitchen to grab my iced coffee out of the fridge, I saw my dad and his two friends outside smoking. I could hear them loudly laughing and talking about old times. I got my things ready, and after a couple of minutes of being awake, I stepped outside with my bag over one arm and rifle over the other. Hey there, buddy, ready to go? My dad asked, tossing his sig on the side. the walkway and grinding it with his shoe. Sure am. I got everything I need. At the time I was excited

just to hang out with the grownups and see what my dad got up to. We made our way to my dad's truck where Randy and Hector decided to ride in the bed instead of using their own cars. I sat up front next to my dad who was starting the truck when I climbed in. It was just barely starting to get to dawn. The sky still that deep early morning blue. The temperature was around 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The high that day would be around 87. Not too bad. As we drove to the hunting grounds, Hector and Randy got tossed around in the back, because the roads in town were not very well maintained. So how do you feel about going on this trip with your old man and my fellow idiots back there? He gave a hearty chuckle. I'm pretty excited.

I'm glad you brought them along. They seem nice enough. Yeah, I figured it would have been boring just the two of us. And hey, you hadn't really talked to them up to this point. So why not, you know? The drive was about ten minutes. Along the way, my dad and I had a nice chat about life and everything that had been going on in each other's lives.

Meanwhile, Randy and Hector were arguing about who missed shots more often. It got kind of heated, and my dad slammed on the bird. brakes, which tossed them into the cab. My dad busted out laughing when he did this, and the way he laughed made it seem like it was the funniest thing in the world. Randy and Hector did not share the same amusement. We made it to the hunting grounds, and another truck was already there. It had a thin layer of dirt over it, which anything around my town got if you didn't clean it regularly. We got out and grabbed our things before making our way down to the trail. My dad commented, about some good spots to start with before we went deeper into the woods.

We set up a spot about half a mile down the trail. Hector immediately upon sitting down, pulled a drink out of his bag. He tossed one to me and to Randy. I instinctively caught it, but then I realized I shouldn't have and tried to hand it back. Come on now, you can drink that. You're an adult now, Hector said. I just don't really like it, but thank you for the offer. He shrugged and took it back. Randy accepted the offer for free booze and began to drink his rapidly.

My dad got my attention quietly and pointed out towards the hill in the distance. It was hard to make out exactly what he was pointing at in the early morning light, but I'm sure it was a deer. Ready to see the first one of the day, guys? He got everyone's attention to try to show off how good a shot he was. However, right when he was about to pull the trigger, Randy slapped him in the back of the the head, this caused him to miss aim and completely missed the deer, which ran away. Randy cackled like a madman afterwards, exclaiming about how it was payback for earlier.

I'll admit it got a chuckle out of me as well. We waited at that spot a couple more minutes before moving on. When we got to the next spot, I thought I saw someone off in the woods, away from any trail. I pointed it out to my dad, who thought the person must be an idiot. Going off on the trails is a good way to get shot. Whoever it was seemed just slightly taller than the average person, but this wasn't really enough to make me nervous or anything like that. As everyone was setting up,

the person vanished into a thicker area of trees and was gone from sight. I didn't think much of it. By this point in the trip, enough time had passed that the sun was now above the horizon and the lighting was much better. I managed to hit a deer, getting it. Everybody seemed happy that I was able to do it on my first try. But like I said, I wasn't that big into hunting, so I wasn't terribly excited. The morning passed peacefully.

Every now and again I could catch glimpses of the dude moving throughout the trees. I never could get a good look at him because of how far away he was. It never crossed my mind that he might be following us. Another thing that never crossed my mind is that we never heard anyone else. shooting, despite the fact that someone's truck was in the parking area. The day was fairly uneventful. We did the usual hunting things, like getting deer, comparing accuracy, and what have you. By around evening, I'd say we were about six or seven miles into the hunting trail, and I was starting to get tired. I carried on, however, because I was having fun. We made it to the next spot, and when we got set up, we smelled rot.

Now this didn't really catch our attention because it's a hunting trail. Hector decided to look for the source of the rot. He said he wanted to move it away because it was foul. He wandered off where he believed it was coming from, and we paid little attention to where he was actually going. He never came back. After about 30 minutes of his absence, Randy noticed that he still hadn't returned,

and the rot smell was still present. When we were alerted to this fact, we started to look for him, calling his name and leaving the trail. After a while of searching and walking around, we were lost. We couldn't remember which direction the trail was in. This resulted in an argument, which I was forced to break up, because it was the least productive thing we could be doing in that moment. When they stopped, my dad had the idea to try and listen for footsteps and follow whatever direction they were coming from. We all sat silent and a realization made my stomach sink. There was no noise at all.

No wind, no rustling leaves, no birds singing, nothing. It was still and silent. I looked to the sky to see if there was an oncoming storm, but it was clear. We did hear footsteps after a couple of silent seconds. They were coming from a thicker part of the forest. By this point, it was becoming increasingly dark. So Randy pulled out his flashlight and turned it on. We made our way into the thicker part of the forest.

We walked together so no one else would get lost. While looking around, I bumped into something wet. I was stunned, thinking that it must be tree sap. But when I heard Randy scream, I was plunged into fear. I slowly turned to look at what I had bumped into. When I laid eyes upon it, I proceeded to throw up the cheap snacks I had eaten earlier. It was skin strung up between two trees. Based on the face, I could tell it was Hector.

My mind was flooded with thoughts. My dad told us that we needed to get out of the forest now. My dad reasoned where to go based on the direction the sun had set. Randy and I followed him out of desperation, not having any better ideas ourselves. We were swiftly moving through the trees, trying to get out as fast as possible. Occasionally a branch would snag my clothes or hit me in the face. I heard Randy scream from behind me, and when I turned around, something that was around 8 feet tall had picked him up and was taking him away.

My dad pulled out his rifle and opened fire. The noise that thing made still haunts my dreams. It was a mixture between several different animals screaming. When it turned around, I was able to get a good look at it. It had one eye in its head, and that was the only thing it had on its face. As far as proportions, its arms seemed long as long as the eyes. than its body, although it was slouched over. The texture of its skin was oily, and it was dark gray in color. It rushed towards my dad at a blinding speed and grabbed him in front of me.

It had dropped Randy, who was unconscious. I turned out my flashlight, and I stood as still, and as quietly as I possibly could. I heard it walk over to where it had dropped Randy. It picked him up again, and stomped its way off deeper into the forest. After what felt like an eternity standing there, I slowly moved over to my dad, and I grabbed the truck keys off of his belt. I went in the direction he had suggested, slowly and carefully. He was right. I came out of the forest a couple of feet away from my dad's truck. I sprinted over to it and fumbled the keys until I could unlock it. I left the town. A couple of towns over, the police caught up to me, because I was the primary suspect. However, after discovering the body, you know, and I was the body,

in the shape they were in, I was let go. They were under the impression that no human could do that. I left Alabama altogether and live in Illinois now. To this day, I still wonder if that thing is still out there, praying on hunters unfortunate enough to get lost into the forest. For the sake of everyone there, I desperately hope not. When I was four years old, my parents moved to a secluded town in the West Virginia Outback. This was because Charleston was too noisy and too expensive for them. They wanted the quiet and privacy of the wooden town. I'm not going to say the name of the town here,

so you don't go there and bother the people who live there. Our new house was two stories with four bedrooms. Two of the bedrooms were going to be converted into an office and a playroom. My parents both worked at home, so an office space for them was going to be very useful. and the playroom was for me to have all my toys and not to bother to clean them up when I was done. I loved our house. There was nothing wrong with it.

And in fact, it was the only place where I ever felt safe in that town. I started going to school at the normal age, and there weren't many other people, so making friends was easy. And by the time I was in sixth grade, I was friends with everybody at school. I started to dislike the town around age 12. Anytime I would walk to the bus stop in the morning, something always felt off. Sometimes the air was unnaturally still, despite the lack of an approaching storm. Sometimes the unusual bird songs would be present. Nothing ever felt quite right.

I usually woke up for school around 6 a.m. Just to take a shower and then play on my DS before I had to go to school. My bus would arrive around 8.15, so I liked the extra time to myself. One day, however, I lost track of time, and I realized I missed the bus. School started at 9 a.m., so no big deal. It wouldn't take too long for me to walk there. It was only a mile away. When I left the house that day, I once again felt the unease that I usually would whenever

waiting for the bus in the morning. I brushed it off and began to walk. I distinctly remember it being silent and still that day. Although the town was tiny, you'd usually see people driving at this time in the morning, but the roads were empty, not even any kids walking to school. The walk felt like it took an eternity. It felt like something had been watching me that day. Even when I was in school, I decided to sit away from the windows that day.

That didn't help shake the feeling, though. After class was over, I was waiting outside the school for my bus to arrive. I knew that something was watching me. It wasn't just a feeling anymore. It's like my mind was screaming at me to run, that whatever it was, was getting closer. Just then, I saw it. As one of the buses passed,

I saw something that definitely wasn't human on the bus. Its skin was pitch black. It had white dots as eyes, and it watched me through the back window as the bus drove off. I was frozen with fear. I was snapped back into reality when the bus driver hollered at me to get on. That night, I couldn't sleep. I could only think about what I saw on that bus.

In the morning, I decided to tell my parents that I felt sick and I didn't want to go to school. They gave me a look like they knew I was lying, but they let me stay home anyways, since I had all A's. All day, all I could think about was that thing. However, I didn't see it again until a few years later. It was late December and the last day of school before Christmas break, and in all of my classes we just watch movies. I sat near a window and looked out at the falling snow and saw it, about ten feet away from the window staring at me. All of the sudden I remember what I had seen a couple years ago.

I don't know how long I stared, but after what seemed like an eternity, it turned and walked away into the snow. I got a better look this time. Its arms were nearly to the ground, its legs were always bent. It had a very noticeable slouch. And it was, I guess, seven or eight feet tall. I was terrified when I got home that day. My mind raced with questions. What was it?

Why was it following me? When I walked through the doors that day, my mom immediately hugged me and made sure I was okay. I was extremely confused, and when I asked what was going on, They showed me what had been talked about on the local news. A 13-year-old kid had been found on a small road in the town. He had been mauled by something, although they didn't show any pictures for obvious reasons. Police say it was most likely a bear. When I heard this, my stomach sank.

I immediately jumped to the thought it was whatever had been watching me that day. My mom must have seen my pale face because she reassured me that everything was fine and the police would deal with it properly. I wanted to believe her, but I just couldn't. How were the police going to catch that monster? And if I even went as far as to tell police what I saw, would they believe me? I went up to my room and turned on Cartoon Network to try to calm myself down, but it didn't work.

I eventually panicked myself to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night, and Adult Swim was playing American Dad reruns. I decided to go to the kitchen. to get some water. As I descended the stairs, I looked out the back porch window at the bottom of the stairs, and right there, staring in the window, was the monster. I instinctively ducked back up the stairs, and I peeked out to see if it had noticed me. It didn't seem like it did, because it was scanning back and forth as if looking for me. My dad had a gun in his room, so being the stupid kid I was, I thought the best idea was to get it with said gun.

I snuck into my parents' room and found the hiding spot for it. I made sure it was loaded, which it was, and I crept back down the stairs. I peeked out towards the back door again, and it was gone. I slowly made my way into the kitchen, and I hid under the table, looking through all the windows to see if I could see it. Just then, I heard the front door open. I saw it slowly shamble as the door. door swung open. It walked around. I assumed it was looking for me. It walked up the stairs and I heard

my parents' door opening. My hands trembling as I slowly got out from under the table. I made my way over to the stairs. My parents' door was wide open. I saw the shadow against the dark blue in there. I knew that was it. I pointed the gun at the top of the stairs and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened because the safety was on. All that accommodated. was that it noticed me. I saw it turn towards me. The white dots pierced into me. I fumbled the gun trying to turn the safety off. When I got it off, I looked back up and the door was closed. It took me in eternity to work up the courage to go up the stairs and open the door. When I did, it was gone. I nearly collapsed when I saw what it had done to my parents. I'll spare the

details here, because they still haunt me to this day. In short, it looked like a bear attack. I was only 16 at the time and had no job. I didn't want to be put in foster care and then become homeless, but I had no other choice other than to call the police. When they arrived, they asked me questions because they found me clinching a gun in my parents' room. They ruled me out as a suspect, and, like I guessed, sent me to the foster care system. Luckily, I was adopted by people who only wanted older kids so they could give them a nice home. That was only four years ago, so the memories are still fresh in my head. I live in South Carolina now because my new family wanted to move me away from the place

that was giving me so many bad memories. I can't ever thank them enough for taking me in. I haven't seen that thing since that day. I hope that by this point, someone was able to get it. If not, well, we all know the answer to that. Every night they were closer than the night before. Every time they grew in number, they became easier to make out. I could feel them watching me.

I don't know where they came from, but I knew they wanted to hurt me. I could feel it. I saw the first one three nights ago. My house is the last one in the neighborhood. I live alone at the end of the street, so beyond my space, small yard is tons of acres of undeveloped land which consists of mostly tall pines and lots of undergrowth. The street just ends a few yards from my house, the grass and tree roots growing through the black top. All we got was an almost useless street lamp I had petitioned for because the darkness of the woods creeped me out.

The dull light from the street lamp illuminates a good portion of my yard, but because of the angle, some of the tree cast shadows across it. The light spans from a few feet into the woods to the wall of my house and almost completely covers the front yard, one of the last benefits of the light. Honestly, the orange glow and low hum of the street lamp used to comfort me. Now, it just fills me with dread. Dread for the day it goes out and I can't see them anymore. I was on my screened-in side porch relaxing before going to bed. In the middle of my routine, scrolling through social media, something at the edge of the woods caught my attention. I wouldn't say I saw it at first. It was more like I felt it. I put my phone away and strain my eyes to try and make out what was

making me feel so uneasy. It was just at the edge of the light, as if I had caught it trying to sneak out of the darkness beyond. A shadow in the shape of a person. I didn't believe it at first. Why would I? It was just standing there, not moving, but I knew it was looking at me. It had no defining features, no eyes, no mouth, no hair. It was a perfect shadow, just standing at the edge of my yard like a person. I stared for what seemed like an eternity, not sure that I was really seeing, this shadow person in my yard. Finally, I called out to it, asking what it was doing. I got no response. It didn't even move. I convinced myself it was a trick of the light and went back to scrolling. The unease continued and occasionally I would sneak a peek back at the shadow. It never moved, never made a sound.

I finished my sig and put it out before looking out to the shadow again. It was a little. It was was then, the wind began to blow, and all of the shadows from the tree limbs began moving. I watched, waiting for it to move as well. It didn't. That was the moment I began to panic. I called out to it again and again. I got no response. My stomach dropped, and I began to get angry. I stood and walked off of the porch. I took maybe three or four steps towards it, when I was overwhelmed with fear. I began to sweat. my mouth dried up. Every hair on my body was standing. I tried to take another step, but my body refused to move. Every primal instinct I had was telling me to run. I backed away, never taking my eyes off of it.

After I got inside the house, I ran to the pantry to find my strongest flashlight. The side door of the house led to the kitchen, so it wasn't too much of a stretch. Before going back outside, I looked out the window to make sure it was still there. Of course, it hadn't moved. I walked back onto the porch, turned on the flashlight, and aimed it at the shadow. My skin crawled as the light washed over the shadow and didn't go away. The shadow was opaque. I could almost see through it when the light was directly on it. The thing was pure darkness given shape.

Not knowing what to do, I backed inside. Who could I call about this? They'd never believe me. I pulled a chair to the window in my living room and watched the shadow. I don't know when I fell asleep, but it was some time before sunrise. The next morning, I woke up to the sun, hitting me in the face. I jumped up, check the time. 7.36 a.m.

The feeling of uneasiness was gone, but I had to be sure. I looked out the window and almost collapsed from relief. The shadow was gone. I ran through the previous night's events over and over in my head. Maybe I had dreamed the whole thing. That had to be it. Either that, or I was going insane. Maybe both.

It took almost an hour to build up the courage and walk outside to inspect the spot where the shadow stood. What I saw made me run cold. There were two imprints in the grass. as if something had been standing in the same spot for hours. I felt sick to my stomach. There really was something in my yard last night. I backed away from the spot, never taking my eyes off the footprints. It might have been there still, but was invisible, waiting to get me.

But if that were true, why didn't I feel the uneasiness I felt from last night? Did that even have anything to do with the shadow? I prayed it wouldn't be back to answer these questions. The rest of the day went by normally. It was my day off, so I just lounged around watching TV. I went grocery shopping and paid some bills. I don't really remember much of the day other than that. I just remember being anxious about nightfall, hoping it wouldn't come back.

Man, what I would give to be able to go back to that feeling instead of the absolute dread I feel now. Nightfall came and I did my best to keep. keep my mind occupied. I cooked dinner, turned on one of my favorite comedies. The night wore on and I began to feel a little bit better. It was already past the time the shadow appeared the night before, when I went outside for a sig.

I lit it and pulled out my phone to check the time when the feeling came back, stronger than before. I looked up and there it was, a few feet closer and more defined. I didn't have to strain so hard this time to see. it. A whimper forced its way out of my mouth, and I scanned the rest of the tree line. That's when I spotted the other one. I was standing just outside one of the shadows made by the tree limb closer to the road. It was standing in the same pose at first, arms just hanging to its side, but it was facing my direction. I screamed and jumped back, falling over a chair. Before I realized

it, I was yelling at them, asking them what they want. My fear had been replaced by anger again, and I walked out onto the stoop. I looked on the ground for something to throw and spotted a small rock by my step. Without thinking, I grabbed it and flung it at the first shadow. The rock hit the shadow right in the chest and fell to the ground. But there was no sound when it connected. It was if it hit nothing. The shadow didn't move.

I called out again, asking them why they were here. There was no reply, of course. course. I don't know what I expected. That's when I realized there were no sounds, no crickets, no birds, no natural sounds at all, just the humming of the street lamp. I looked from the first shadow to the second, the unease, rising the more I look at them. I wanted them to do something, say something, anything, but they just stood there watching me. I retreated to the porch and continued watching them until it was done. They still didn't move. What were these things? Why did they fill me with so much dread? I thought again about who I could tell about them that wouldn't

send me to an asylum. I don't really have any friends and my family lives hours away. I had never felt so alone as I did in that five minutes. After finishing my sick, I went back inside and posted up beside the window again, I could barely see the second shadow from my position, but as long as it didn't move, it would be fine. Hours went by, and they never moved, but the uneasiness stayed. Once again, sleep crept up on me, and before I knew it, I was waking up. It was 8.42 a.m. I was late for work. I called my manager and apologized, told her I wasn't feeling well. She said it was fine and they were overstaffed anyway, to not worry about it. I asked her if she could find people to cover my shifts for the rest of the week as I wasn't

feeling well. After a small back and forth, she agreed. I needed time to either get this thing sorted out or get out of Dodge. I spent the day trying to come up with a plan for the night. I needed to get footage of them to show people. Why hadn't I done that already? So stupid. But what was the plan after that? I couldn't even get near them because of the feeling they gave me. I thought maybe I could shoot them, but I didn't have the money or time. I just reserved myself to reconnaissance for the night, and after that I'd see where things went.

Waiting for nightfall was awful. I couldn't eat. I tried to take a nap because I was exhausted from barely sleeping the previous two nights, but every time I started to drift off, I would think about the shadows consumed and jump awake. I couldn't do anything but sit and wait until it got dark. The hours dragged on. That day seemed like an eternity of waiting. Finally night came and I walked onto the porch and waited with my phone in hand,

periodically checking the time. The usual sounds of nature were there. Crickets, cicadas, the odd bird. I held out some tiny bit of hope that maybe the shadows wouldn't show. Then, at 9.07 p.m., the sound stopped, and all I could hear was the hum of the street lamp. My stomach dropped so bad I felt physically sick. I already knew what that meant, but I looked up anyway. The first shadow had moved a few feet closer to my house.

The second one halved its distance. I scanned the yard and spotted two more. one on the opposite side of the yard as the second shadow and the other in the middle of the street. Again, they were easier to make out than the previous two nights. They were more corporeal, darker than before. They didn't even blend in with the shadows near them anymore. If anything, they stood out. I walked to the door and stuck out my torso.

The air felt heavy, like it was made of pure malice. I began sweating and felt faint, shaking it off. I opened the camera on my phone and aimed it at the first shadow, who was the closest one, at probably only 12 feet from my door. I struggled to keep my hands steady enough for the camera to focus in the low light. After what seemed like forever, it focused, and I snapped a few pictures. Once I got those, I backed into the porch and took a moment to catch my breath. I looked back at the foreshadows, looking for any type of change.

Nothing. simultaneously relieved and frustrated. I opened the pictures I had taken, and of course they weren't clear enough to even make anything out. I had to try again, but every fiber in me was screaming for me not to. It took me a few minutes to heighten myself up enough to even open the door again.

Same as before. I just stuck out my torso and aimed my phone at the closest shadow. It took a moment, but the camera finally focused. The picture was going to be clear. Thank God. I would have definitive proof that I was being haunted by shadow people. As I pressed the button to take the picture, the street lamp flickered. It was only for half a second, but it ruined the picture.

All I got was darkness. I cursed my luck, and the lamp flickered two more times as I was trying to get back to the camera. I looked up and what I saw caused me to scream, drop my phone, and fall onto the porch in one of the door. motion. The shadows had moved. Very slightly, but they had moved. The first looked as if it had just finished taking a step forward. The second and third were in the middle of taking a step. The fourth seemed to be slightly hunched over like it was getting ready to sprint. I got off the floor with tears in my eyes and realized my phone was outside. I bolted to the door without thinking,

burst out onto the stoop. The phone was lying on the ground at the base of the bottom of the step. I reached for it and the lamp flickered again. A wave of fear hit me, and I threw up before looking towards the shadows. The first had lifted its foot. The second and third had finished their step, and the fourth was hunched further. My body seemed to move on its own after that. I left my phone, ran inside my house, and locked the door. I tried to figure out why the lamp was flickering. Were the shadows doing it? No, if they could do that. They would have done it in the first place. Most likely the bulb was going out.

I needed to call the electric company. I reached in my pocket for my phone and screamed in frustration when I realized it wasn't there. The lamp flickered two more times. I began feeling lightheaded. My vision blurred. I leaned against the refrigerator to steady myself. But it wasn't enough.

My last memory from that night was falling to the floor. When I woke up, I was still on the floor. Sunlight poured through the windows. I struggled to get up. I felt weak. I didn't eat the day before, and I had barely slept in days. I finally got up and looked at my stove for the time. 11.48 a.m.

Wow, it was almost noon. I stumbled out onto the porch and winced as the full brightness of the sun hit me. I walked out of the door to the stoop and picked up my front. phone. It was busted. I sat on the step and cried. These things were going to get me. I knew it. I ran through my options. I could just up and move. I could maybe stay at my parents for a night or two, but eventually I'd have to come back home. How many shadows would be here then? I decided I was going to fight them. This was my home. As long as there was light touching them, they wouldn't move. I could just buy a bow and take them out from the porch. I hadn't used one since I was a kid, but I was pretty decent back

then, so I had a good feeling. First thing I needed to do was get that light replaced, though. I drove downtown to the electric company and told them the light was out, and it needed to be fixed as soon as possible. They told me it would be later that afternoon, but it would be fixed before dark. I thanked them and drove immediately to the nearest boarding's good store. Once they, There, I asked an employee to show me the bows. I was a little hurt at some of the prices of these things. I finally settled on one in my price range and stocked up on some arrows. On the way home, I stopped by a drive-thru.

I didn't eat much. When I got home, I began putting the arrows together and practicing drawing the bow. I felt pretty confident in my abilities, even though it made me sore. At about four in the afternoon, the repair truck finally came, and I walked out to the guy in the street. He told me I looked sick, which I laughed off as having a week off of partying a little too hard. We had a laugh, and he went to work. Once he was done, we had made some more small talk, and he asked me if I was ready for the big storm that was coming through later. My heart dropped, and I told him I didn't even know what was coming.

He pointed up, and the sky was extremely overcast, and I cursed myself as I realized that it had been all day. I thanked him, and he left. I hauled back to the Sporting's Good Store. I ran to the hunting section and bought the brightest battery-operated spotlight and headlamp they had. Between the bow and these, I had almost wiped out my account, but I wasn't going to take the chance of these things getting me. I could always make my money back. As I walked out of the store, the first few rain drops began falling. By the time I got home, the storm was in full swing.

The wind was terrible, whipping the rain sideways so hard it stung. In the short distance from my car to my house, I was completely soaked. Once inside, I grabbed my flashlight facing the middle of the kitchen floor. If things got bad and they got into my house, I could turn it on and slow the down. If not, stop them outright. I set up the spotlight in the living room just in case the flashlight didn't stop them. All I could do after that was wait. So there I sat on the porch, waiting for them to show. I was wearing the headlamp. I couldn't take any chances. It was 10.52 p.m. and they had yet to make an appearance. Maybe they didn't like the rain either, I thought.

There had been a few lightning strikes in the last hour, and they seemed to be getting closer. They finally showed up. I could feel them. The pressure, the dread, it was worse than ever. I looked out under the yard and spotted them. The first was only 10 feet away now, with four not far from it. Approaching from the side, two and three were 20 feet away, as if they were in no hurry. I scanned the rest of the yard and spotted form. more. Two were at the edge of the tree line. One was directly below the street lamp, and the last was standing where the number four originally stood. There were eight of them. I didn't expect this many, but there was nothing I could do about it. I grabbed the bow and walked to the door of the porch. It took everything to convince me to open it. Lightning struck, and that got me moving. In one swift

motion, I kicked open the door and drew my bow. I aimed it for the first shot. I aimed it for the first shadow and shot the arrow. I missed. Of course I missed. I hadn't shot one of these things in almost 20 years. I was an idiot for thinking I could just go full rambo on these things. The thunder finally hit and rumbled my bones. It was deafening. I shook it off and drew another arrow. I took a deep breath and aimed, trying to compose myself. I shot the arrow and it hit the shadow in the hip area. It doesn't even react. The pressure grew. My head started hurting and I felt nauseous.

Lightning struck again and my worst fear happened. The street lamp goes out. I fell back a few steps in the darkness and reached to turn on the headlamp, but didn't manage to before the light came back on. The light was only out for two, maybe three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. It came back on as the thunder clapped so hard, the windows. of my house rattled. I quickly assessed the situation. Shadow 1 had pulled out the arrow and was holding it to its side. Two and three were now facing one. Four looked like it was in a mad

sprint to the door, only about eight feet away now. Five and six were now hunched over like they were about to start running. Seven hadn't moved, and eight had only taken a step or two. I steeled myself and decided four was the most imminent threat. I knocked an arrow, open the door, and aimed for its torso. I shot the arrow and got it right in the neck. The shadow didn't react, but pressure grew. I felt something on my lip and reached up to feel it. I pulled my hand back and my fingertips were covered in a red substance. I had a nose bleed. The pressure was so great it caused my nose to bleed. Wow. There was no time to worry about that. I knocked another arrow and took aim at four again. Lightning flashed and I shot the arrow, causing me to miss horribly. The street

lamp went out again, but only for a second. Four was already reaching for the arrow in its neck. Thunder clapped and the lamp went out again, as did every light in my house. I immediately turned on my headlamp and looked at four. It was in the process of removing the arrow. I looked around to see the others as fast as I could. They were all in various phases of movement. I had to be fast. I didn't know when the street lamp was coming on again, if at all.

I knocked another arrow and aimed at four when the thunder clapped, startling me and causing me to drop the arrow. I heard a ripping sound to my right. I looked and caught seven frozen in time, tearing through my screen. I looked back at four and my heart sunk. He was four feet away, reaching for me. I jumped back, slamming the flimsy door. I hooked the latch and backed up to the kitchen door.

More ripping to my right. I swung around and saw seven halfway inside, with eight standing right beside it. Then something slammed into the door. I could only assume it was four. I turned to see it, pressed against the glass, like a kid looking in a candy store, window. Even though there was no facial features, I swear it was smiling at me. Lightning flashed

and I saw the rest of them were crowded around not too far behind it. I fell back into the kitchen and turned on the flashlight. Thunder boomed, shaking the house again. The light illuminated the entire kitchen in a soft LED glow. I heard the hook latch ripped from the frame of the doorway outside. They were on the porch now. For some reason I expected to hear footsteps. but there were none. They started banging on the kitchen door and windows next to it. The door handle started turning slowly. My heart stopped.

I was in such a hurry to turn on the flashlight. I didn't lock the door. I ran over and was reaching for the lock when the window beside the door exploded, knocking me back for a moment. That's all they needed. The kitchen door flew open and I could see at least five of them gathered behind four.

They weren't coming. coming in or moving, which was promising. The flashlight was doing its job. I relaxed a bit, but only for a moment. The doorway was only about five feet away, easy targets. I knocked an arrow, drew the bow, and shot the arrow right at four. I missed, but hit one of the shadows behind it. I'll take it, I thought. I was reaching for another arrow when something flew through the broken window and knocked the flashlight over. The light was now pointed down the hallway, away from the door, causing darkness behind it. I looked to see what happened and saw one of my arrows lying next to the flashlight.

I looked up in terror and caught four in the process of crossing the threshold of my door. Instinctively, I turned and ran to the living room. I should be okay in there, I thought. They had to get past the flashlight blasting down the hallway to get to me. I walked to the couch where I left the bulk of my arrows. I grabbed them and shove them into the quiver as the lightning struck again. I stopped what I was doing because something outside caught my eye. Thunder clapped and I looked toward the window.

I didn't have time to look out because I heard the distinctive click of a button and the light in the hallway went out. I whipped around and saw one of their hands on the threshold of the doorway in the living room Without shifting my gaze, I walked the spotlight, crouched down, and pressed the button to turn it on. Nothing happened. In a panic, I looked down at it. I quickly looked back and one of their heads was peering around the corner. It felt like it was mocking me.

I reached down to pick up the light and immediately realized my mistake. I didn't buy batteries. Fear set in. True fear. I was going to be taken because I didn't buy batteries for a bad. battery-operated spotlight. Honestly, I probably deserved it for that. No, I was getting out of here, I thought. I drew the bow and fired an arrow at the same shadow's head. I missed, but the arrow lodged itself in the hand and stuck into the wood of the doorframe. That would help me by a little

time. I shot another arrow, and back to the front door of the house. I fumbled to find the lock with my free hand, and without thinking, I looked down quickly. When I looked back up, two more heads were peering around the corner at me. I finally got the door unlocked and opened it, never taking my eyes off the shadows in the hallway. I got the door open a little bit, and managed to squeeze through without turning around. I took a deep breath and turned to run, closing the door behind me. I was about to run down the steps when the lightning flashed, and I stopped cold. In my front yard stood 13 shadows. I couldn't get a good count initially,

but I started scanning the yard with my headlamp and I counted them all quickly. Thirteen. Have they been there the entire time? I never thought of the possibility that there would be more than what was on my side of the yard. I didn't have time to think of a plan. The door behind me started opening.

I dropped the bow and turned around to grab the doorknob to keep it closed while turning my head. to try to keep some light on the shadows behind me. They were strong. It took everything I had to keep them from ripping the door from my hands. The shadows in my yard were steadily creeping closer because I couldn't keep the light off of them for more than a second or two. I could feel my nosebleed getting worse.

My head was bothering me. I felt nauseous and I was losing strength. The door suddenly ripped from my hands and I stumbled back. My balance thrown off. I fell down the steps and landed hard on my back. I couldn't breathe for a moment. I looked around and screamed. They were all closing in.

If I had ran as soon as I got outside, I probably could have found an exit and made it. Stupid. I turned back to the house, and there was a shadow halfway down the steps. I looked around again, but they were closer. I looked back to the steps, and the shadow was reaching for me.

I closed my eyes. This was it. No matter what I did, one of them would get me. The attack never came. I was too scared to open my eyes and I just laid on the ground for what seemed like forever. Then I heard it. A low hum. I opened my eyes and started to cry. The street lamp was back on. My house lights were on. I had power again. Even the rain was beginning to slack off. The shadow directly over me froze. Its hand only was. inches from my face. I scooted back and stood. I could feel the hatred coming from this thing. I looked in my house and there were six in my living room. The 13 in my front yard were standing in a loose circle around where I fell. It's like they were just going to watch this one get me. I felt slightly relieved, even though the pressure and the dread was still weighing on me. I decided I was going to stay somewhere else tonight, anywhere else. I reached in my pocket for my keys, and of course they weren't there.

I'm pretty sure I left them in my bedroom. Awesome. I managed to squeeze past the circle of shadows and walk around the house since I wasn't making it through the front door. I looked at the number they did to my screen and around the porch and a shiver ran down my spine.

What would have happened if they had caught me? Walking back to my bedroom, I felt good. I won. I'm definitely moving out of here tomorrow, I thought, but it's a small price to pay. Walking past the doorway in the living room, I looked at them, frozen, trying to get out the door to get to me. In my rush, I clipped the doorframe of the living room with the headlamp,

knocking it off my head. I didn't stop to pick it up. I didn't have time. I had to get out of there. As I walked into the bedroom, I reached to turn on the light and immediately realized something was wrong. The light switch was off. That wasn't right.

I had intentionally left every light on in the house earlier. Before I could even react, something ice-cold grabbed my waist, and I was flung to the darkness on the other side of the room. I tried to stand, but I was pushed onto the floor. My wrists started to burn. It was so cold. Screaming, I turned around to swing at my assailant. I connected with nothing, and a pain shot up my arm.

My throat went cold, and I was lifted off. of the ground and slammed into the wall. I couldn't breathe. I kicked my legs trying to force the shadow to loosen its grip, but had no luck. I began to lash out, trying to get it. I only succeeded in hurting myself. It felt like I was hitting a solid wall. Finally, a last-ditch effort, I reached in my pocket and pulled out a lighter. I tried to light it, but I was losing consciousness. It finally catches, and the small flame illuminated the darkness around me, and the shadow. It stops, and surprisingly, loosens its grip around me a little. I tried to move as slowly as possible, so as to not put out the flame.

I reached up with my left hand to grab the shadow's forearm. Slowly, I started to try and pull its hand off of me. The flame flickered as I exhaled, and tried not to panic. It stayed lit. I was good. The hand started to come off me as I pulled at the forearm. I felt its fingertips on the back of my neck lift ever so slightly, and the hand came off suddenly. The motion caused my entire weight to shift and the flame to go out.

My head slammed into the wall before I had a chance to try and relight the lighter. The right hand closed around me again. It felt like it was piercing. It was so cold. The shadow slammed me into the wall again, and I dropped the lighter, and my head went through the sheet, rock. My vision was fading. I struggled against it, but it was really like a small person, fighting off a grown man. My head hit the wall again, on a stud this time. I could feel the pain from the back of my head. I get hit again and I knew one more will be it, but I was okay with

it. Going didn't seem so bad anymore. The shadow pulled back, and it feels like it knows this would be the last hit as well. It paused and seemed to be savoring the moment. I smiled, and a small chuckle escaped me, using every last bit of energy I had. Who would have thought I'd be taken by a shadow? That chuckle must have pissed it off. It slammed my head into the wall harder than all the other times. I heard a crack. I assumed it was me, but it didn't matter.

I let myself be consumed by the dark oblivion. It felt comforting. All this time, I had been avoiding the dark. If I had known it'd feel this peaceful, I would have run toward it. This isn't a Skinwalker story. In those kinds of stories, the Skinwalker follows the rules. If you don't fall for its tricks, if you don't walk off into the bushes with your friends who vanished for two hours

and then came back acting strange, then you'll be fine. For some reason, the Skinwalker can't touch you. It can peek at you from behind a tree. or talk to you, but if you leave quickly and make sure to stick close to your friends, it'll leave you alone. So like I said, this isn't a Skinwalker story. This happened in late July, in a forest in Montana. Although this was the same forest my dad and I hunted in every year, that didn't mean much. It was wild and huge, stretched for miles and miles across rolling hills, until it finally merged with the backs of the Rockies.

We had one small patch of forest whose trails he and I knew well, and which my dad didn't like to go far from. He used to joke that we'd take the wrong turn on the path one day and come out from the woods to find ten years had passed, and we were in California. But that year, I had been impatient and bored with our usual trails. I was supposed to go to college that fall, and I was anxious to shake off the parts of my life I saw as childish and start fresh as a man.

I was the one who picked out the new set of trails that were further into the woods and argued with my dad until he wore down and agreed to try them out. Right from the start, the trip was a disaster. It was an unusually hot summer that year, and by the time we unloaded our gear from my dad's truck and started on the trail, I had already sweat through my deodorant. About 30 minutes into the first day, I realized there was something off about the woods.

They were totally silent, not even birds were singing. The only sounds were the wind blowing through the trees and our own footsteps. I've never before or since seen the woods that quiet. We didn't come across any animals that day. To tell the truth, I tried to hide it from my dad, But it was creepy. We camped in a clearing by the trail that I had marked on our map. By this point, I was honestly ready to call it quits.

Between the heat and the strange silence in the woods, I didn't want to be out there anymore. But this trip had been my idea, and I wanted my dad to be the one to call it off. He didn't, and after a supper of ham and beans, we spent a sleepless night in the hot tent. It was around noon of the second.

In the second day, we noticed the smell. We were making our way up the trail when it seemed like somebody flipped a switch and turned the forest on its head. We were both hit with a wave of stench like rotting animal, which by the strength of the smell seemed very close by. At the same time, the silent woods were filled with sounds. All around us, birds were shouting warnings like an alarm. We stopped in our tracks and heard something crashing quickly.

through the underbrush to our right. Turning, I saw a herd of deer running at top speed through the thick bushes. My rifle was slung over my back, but even if I had it in my hands, I wouldn't have been able to react in time. After a pause, my dad spoke. We need to turn back, he said. Something's frightening the animals, could be a bear. I nodded. Bears, although not common in our area were not unheard of. I remember two hunting seasons ago, a couple of hikers had been attacked on the other side of the state by what some people were saying was a huge grizzly. Even with our rifles, we wouldn't necessarily be safe against a big bear. We made our way back up the trail, but even as the sounds of the animals quieted down all around us, the smell didn't go away.

On the contrary, it seemed to get stronger and stronger all the time, until we were both covering our noses with our shirts and taking gasping breaths through our mouths. There was a change in the atmosphere, too. Everything felt heavy and slow and somehow charged. Once, when I was a boy, lightning struck a tree not 200 feet away from me. This felt like that did, like something was about to happen. We were about a day and a half's walk from our car, and even though we both wanted to get out of there as fast as possible,

when night fell, we knew better than to try to follow a strange trail in the dark. We made a camp by the trail. We didn't light a fire. My dad didn't say anything, but there was a tension in his shoulders, and his head swiveled quickly at every sound. We were hunched on a log, eating cold beans out of a tin, and wondering how we were going to get to sleep when we heard it. Down the path, further than I could see in the dark, there came a low groan.

Immediately, Dad and I had our hands on our guns. This stench somehow grew again. It was overwhelming now, and I swear I could feel it in the air around us, sitting thick and oily on my skin. Another low grown, like a man sighing. And as I peered up the path, I saw a dark shape. It was low to the ground and big. It was waddling on all four, but something about its movements seemed unnatural.

It looked the way a big man does when he crawls on his hands and knees, like every movement is forced and stiff. My dad stepped between me and the path. Bill, he said, go into the woods and hide. Don't come out. I'll take care of the bear. I'd like to say I told my dad I would never abandon him. I would at least like to say I tried to argue.

Sometimes, very late at night when I can't sleep, I lie awake and think about what could have been if I hadn't been a coward. But those thoughts belong to the night. They are only dreams. I was about a thousand feet away from our campsite when I heard the shots. One, two, in the night, practiced and controlled. I didn't stop. I was crying then, and I couldn't stop until I ran through.

the clearing on a small hill and tripped, rolling down into the underbrush. I stayed still down there, sobbing uncontrollably. I don't know how many shots my dad fired. I don't remember when the screaming started, or how long it lasted, only that it seemed to go on forever, and that it didn't sound like my dad, more like a woman in a scary movie. I didn't know how long after the screaming stopped that I heard it, running through the underbrush, moving faster than that awkward, unnatural thing on the trail should have been able to move. But I do remember what it looked like when it burst out of the woods and crested the hill. White patches of flesh gleaming out from the holes in its skin it was wearing. I remember seeing its yellow eyes, peering through the

holes in what looked like a hairy burlap bag on its head. It reached the crest of the hill and stopped for a moment, stretching its body in the moonlight. I remember what it sounded like when it yelled, its voice like my dad's when he was hoarse and tired. Bill, yelled the thing on the hill, That's not a bear. My father was a determined man who worked his hands to the bone nearly every single day of his 72-year life. Even after we basically forced him to retire and relax for once, he was always busying himself with some project around the house. Mom used to joke that she swears he was born wearing a hard hat, and growing up, we believed it.

I didn't see a lot of him during childhood, as most of his time was devoted to his career. He was a rare earth elements minor, and often took part in risky but lucrative ventures all around the world. He would sometimes be gone for months at a time, but when he'd return, he had no shortage of stories to tell. His work took him everywhere, from the smoldering deserts of the Sahara to the wind-swept tundra of Siberia. This was back in the 60s, when many countries around the world were first discovering rich deposits of valuable minerals due to advancements in technology.

My father was already a veteran of the trade, having worked in the mine since he was 14 and grinding his way up. the latter. He eventually became a roaming prospector, regularly offering his services to countries that were looking for experts to help them develop a mining infrastructure. He told stories of him traveling halfway around the world into places he never imagined himself going. He once was caught in between rival warlords back when the diamond industry began to boom. Another time, he was imprisoned in Moscow for two months after being accused by the former Soviet Union of being an American spy. He caught malaria in Argentina, was almost taken by a landslide in China, and stared death in the face on a few other occasions. My mom hated his stories and how dangerous he made them out to be,

but Dad just laughed it off. It's hard to know how many of those incidents were flavored by a bit of hyperbole, as my father clearly had a passion for storytelling. Regardless, the man undoubtedly led quite a colorful life, but there's one story he told me, which I know he didn't exaggerate on, the story of why he decided to leave the mining industry forever. Did I ever tell you the real reason I quit? He asked me that one day, as he and I sipped on some drinks in his back porch, My kids were out playing in the backyard, with the two of us serving as impromptu babysitters, while my wife and mother were out on a shopping date. I took a swig of my drink and thought for a moment.

Wasn't it because you tried fighting a camel or something? I asked, referencing another one of his infamous stories where my father got mule kicked in the gut by a rather unhappy camel in Western Asia. Dad broke into a raspy laugh and shook his head as the smoke from his head. his sig wafed in the air. Hey, that camel started it. And boy, was it mad that day. I would have taken it down, but I don't believe in hurting animals like that. He laughed again, taking another drag off his smoldering sig. No, this was a very different situation, in a very different place. I asked him where this mysterious story he was referencing had happened, but he shook his head. Can't tell you that. His

expression had suddenly gone stoic, and it made me curious. Why, Camel jumble your memory? I joked. My dad smiled, but averted his gaze to the ground, as if contemplating whether or not he actually wanted to say any more. Son, let's just say some places are better off forgotten. That was all it took to get me interested. Whenever my dad told one of his many stories, there was a certain a luring gleam in his eye. He definitely enjoyed the attention and wide-eyed looks of wander he got as he told his stories. But this time, he looked quite different. It's like what he was pondering was something that truly troubled him. He started off telling me that towards the end of his career, he had an old friend reach out with an incredibly lucrative offer.

Dad used air quotes around the words as he said them, as though he was skeptical of the claim from the beginning. The friend went on to explain that a certain place discovered a pot of copper and needed assistance getting a proper excavation site up and running. Dad spent some time corresponding with his friend and learning the details of the operation. He said he honestly wasn't very interested in taking on the project, but after a friend revealed the hefty sum of money being offered, he just couldn't turn it down. So, Dad accepts and a few weeks later he's on a plane bound for his new office in this undisclosed location. He said the journey to get there alone took him over 24 hours to reach the spot, so wherever it was, it had to be outside of North America.

Dad was very careful when he told this story to not give me any clues about where this place was, and I didn't really understand why at first. So Dad finally steps off the plane, and his friend, who I'll just call Carl, from here on out, picks him up. The two of them discussed details of the operation while they drive another three hours to reach the spot, partway through the trip, and Carl drops a bit of a nuke on the conversation. So, we've encountered a bit of an issue. Dad stared at him, and he said he was dreading where the conversation was headed. What do you mean, Dad replied, causing Carl to almost immediately backtrack.

Well, okay, not even necessarily an issue. more like a curiosity really. Carl then explained to him that he and his team were inspecting the site. They found some things they didn't expect. The location they were headed was a small cavern nestled near the base of a mountain in a small gully. It was a spot that was known to locals for generations, but none of them really paid much attention

until someone ventured a little deeper inside. Apparently, the cavern stretched on a lot further than anyone expected and not far inside, they made an interesting discovery. One of the prospectors found a large circular stone slab. It was just lying there on the ground at the end of one of the corridors, but the shape made it clear that someone had cut it intentionally. This meant that there was a possible conflict of interest brewing. If it was discovered that the site contained evidence of ancient remains,

then it would be turned over to archaeologists instead. The district that the site was located had a mandate to always, prioritize archaeological ventures over industrial ones. If evidence of human presence was proven conclusive, then my father and the team would have no choice but to abandon it and lose out on their payday. It may have been immoral, but Carl wanted to begin their operation before archaeologists had a chance to interrupt things. My dad says he was a bit conflicted on what to do, but figured at least he could do was see the site for himself before making a decision. So they finally get there and Carl introduces my dad to the team. They waste little time in formalities and

quickly decide to venture into the cavern system. Dad says the entrance was tight with a twisting pattern hidden behind thick foliage. The air was incredibly hot and humid, causing him to sweat like a pig in a bacon factory, as he put it. Once inside, he had to squeeze around three bends before the cavern began to open up. Carl led my dad deeper through the cave, showing several promising areas where they planned to begin excavating. The walls were lined with thick green veins,

indicating the likely presence of copper-rich oars. That initial chamber was designed as alpha, and it branched off into two separate directions from there, one of which contained a circular stone slab. He led my father right to it, and paused as my father saw it for himself, My dad described it to me as a massive stone slab cut in a near-perfect circle. He said it had to have been at least ten feet wide.

He said it looked like it was built to block something and compared it to a manhole covers on the roads. He felt like there was something underneath and said he got a really weird feeling when they were there, but couldn't really describe it beyond that. So he and Carl hold a meeting with the rest of the team and find an area to begin their dig. Days go by, and soon enough, they've got the operation up and running with the logistics being formulated behind the scenes. The team begins mining, leaving the room with the slab alone and focusing on the other portions of the cavern. In just a few weeks, they had a full-fledged operation running 24 hours a day. Part of the team focused on expanding the second path from the Alpha Chamber,

while the others were dedicated to extracting exposed veins. initial returns were very promising, and they knew they were on to something. So the process continued, growing larger and more refined each passing day. By all accounts, things were going according to plan. But of course, I wouldn't be here writing this story if it stayed that way. It's almost like things were going too well for their own good. My dad laughed as he said that, and doused his sig on his boot. He then sighed, and his face took on a grave.

an expression. Dad was always making jokes, and to see him suddenly so stoic sent a small shiver down my spine. I still don't know how to explain what happened down there. Dad went on to explain that he was in the mind working one day, helping a few other men who were working on expanding the tunnels. They were hacking away with pickaxes and stopped for a breather after a few minutes of work. One of the men made a joke and made my dad laugh, but was suddenly shushed by the other. The man who silenced him held up his hands to his lips. His eyes traced around the room. Dad says he was about to ask the man what was wrong when he heard it for himself. He said he heard a dull, droning noise echoing throughout the corridor. Dad said it sounded almost like someone humming a tune. It was early in the

morning at the time, and my dad and the two men were supposed to be the only ones in the mine, at the time. The humming continued for about a minute before just fading away. My dad left the tunnel and checked the rest of the cavern, but found no one else inside. He didn't really know how to explain it, but he said he didn't honestly pay it much mind. He said he didn't even know if that event is even relevant, but he mentioned it nonetheless as something odd. A few days go by, and things once again are operating as normal. Dad was outside having a meeting with Carl, and the shift leaders. When suddenly, frantic screams emerged from the cavern.

The group turned and waited for a few seconds as a man appeared from inside the cavern. His eyes were frantic and hands trembling. Dad says there was an absolute terror in his eyes like he had never seen before. The man was yelling and rambling away as he dashed away from the cavern. One of the shift leaders asked him to slow down,

but the man refused. Dad says the guy literally ran to the camp, grabbed his lunch and took off into the surrounding jungles, still muttering and whimpering. That man never came back, and no one could figure out what exactly happened to him. He was alone in a semi-isolated section of the mine at the time. Workers that were inside at the time said he had heard him scream and run out. They searched the area he was working, but found nothing out of the ordinary. One of the other workers later translated what the man was screaming when he ran out.

Apparently, he said something to the effect of, This place is evil. We should not have come. The crew was on edge after that, but Carl and the other foreman managed to calm down the crew. My dad says he didn't really say anything, but wished he did. He said he wished he would have listened to that man and had gotten everyone out of there while he had the chance.

Dad sighed and sat back after he said that, as clearly the memories weighing heavy on his mind. I haven't seen him look so crested. fallen since his brother, my uncle, passed away. He said the crew just went back to work, but before that day was even out, one of the other workers made a curious discovery. Remember that massive circular stone slab laying in the tunnel off the alpha chamber? Someone had moved it. All of the crew swore they didn't touch it. Dad said the massive slab had to have weighed near a ton at least, and he didn't think they could have moved it, even if they wanted to. Underneath

that slab was a hole, a very deep hole that stretched down farther than they could see. Someone dropped a pebble down the hole, but no one heard it hit the bottom. They wanted to drop a flare down, but my dad refused to let them, as he was worried about the possibility of igniting flammable gas shimmering deep below. He said he felt a wave of dread roll over him as he stared down into that black pit, and described it as a feeling like someone was staring back up at him. Despite the worrying circumstances, the men continued operations. Things went smoothly after that, but no one went near that hole.

Dad said a few times he could have sworn he heard whispers in his ear. The rest of the men seemed to be on edge as well, with the normal, jovial conversations, all but suddenly absent. Everyone just wanted to get through the day. Dad said over the next few days he felt like something was very wrong. He said a few times he could have sworn he heard whispers in the mind. They were always faint, and he couldn't be sure he actually heard them. He also said he'd see weird shadows that seemed to move in unnatural ways.

They were always distance, always just out of sight to where he could never get a good clear look at them. He said he had to have had at least five instances of thinking he saw something. He also had trouble sleeping as horrific nightmares plagued him each night. He said he could never remember the details of them, but vividly run. remembers waking up in a frantic sweat. At the time, he just chalked it all up to being stress and lack of proper sleep. He said minors are known to have their minds play tricks on them as a condition they knew as minor fever. Being underground in the dark for a while can do strange

things to a man's mind. His expression was serious when he said that, and I knew he wasn't exaggerating. He emphasized that that was probably his single greatest regret. Everything in mind was screaming for him to leave, but fear of ridicule and loss of income compelled him onward. It's not an excuse, I know. It's just a fool's attempt to rationalize the impossible. Then, about a week after the slab moved, it happened. My dad was in the cavern with Carl and a few others, when there was a sudden, loud crack. The men fell silent and waited a moment as the sounds of faint rumbling began. They knew all too well what this meant. Without a sudden, wasting another second, they all scrambled for the exit, but it was too late. My dad says the next thing

he remembers was the deafening, crash of boulders, dirt and debris as the cavern collapsed around them. Dad says the next thing he remembers was awakening in a confused haze, swallowed by darkness with the hard rock all around him. His legs were pinned down by rubble, leaving only his upper torso exposed to a small nook in the rubble. He tried pulling, but he couldn't get his legs to budge. I can't honestly imagine a more terrifying prospect than being buried like that. Dad says he tried not to panic, but he could only do so much. He managed to retrieve a zippo from his pocket, but as the flame ignited, he almost wished he'd remained in the darkness. The crimson hue lit up the small area, and my dad says the enclosed space was barely larger than a

cupboard. The light also revealed a much more gruesome scene. To his right, only a few feet away, He spotted a glove hand poking out from the rubble. He followed the arm with his eye and saw what used to be a man beneath a boulder. Dad gagged and looked away as the sickening scene caused him to vomit. He said he'd never been able to get that image out of his head. The man was obviously gone. But all around him, Dad began to hear faint moans of pain-stricken cries of others who had not yet succumb. He couldn't see any of them, but one voice seemed nearby.

A man who was calling for help, and Dad recognized the voice as belonging to a local worker he referred to as Rico. Dad called back, and Rico responded. Mr. Johnson? My father. Is that you? Yeah, it's me, Rico. Are you okay? Dad replied. Not really, Mr. Johnson. My arm is stuck.

I think it's broken. It hurts real bad. I can't feel my legs either. Dad knew that was a bad sign and tried his best. to keep Rico and himself calm. How much room do you have in there? Can you see a way out? Dad asked. No, sir, it's all dark. I can't see anything. I can move my left arm around, so I have a bit of space, but I'm pinned down. Dad cursed under his breath and tried to reassure the man to remain calm. He knew things weren't looking good for either of them, but he couldn't reach the man,

let alone free himself. RICO and my father continued talking for hours. and after some time, Dad said he heard the sounds of hacking in the distance as a rescue team began to try to liberate the trapped miners. Rico told my dad about his family, his wife, and two sons. Rico feared he was never going to see them again. My dad tried to keep his spirits up, but admitted to me that he shared the same fears.

The two of them could do nothing, but wait and pray that the rescue team would arrive before the Reaper did. Guillermo was right. RICO said words suddenly. referring to the same minor that my dad previously mentioned, who had seemingly went crazy and fled the sight a few days earlier. What do you mean? My dad asked. Rico panted hard and replied,

This place is evil. Dad didn't know how to respond to that. Obviously, the cave-in was a cruel act by mother nature, or perhaps one triggered by human error, but Rico seemed to think it was more than that. We shouldn't have come here, Mr. Johnson. We woke it up. up. Dad then thought the man started suffering from delusions brought on by his injuries, but Rico was adamant. I heard the voices. I saw it. It warned me to go. I should have listened.

Dad thought the man was losing his sanity and continued to try to reassure him. It didn't seem to do much, and not long after, Rico stopped responding at all. Dad said he could hear him whispering desperate prayers and weeping quietly. He didn't know at the time how long they had been down there, but the situation began to wear heavily on my father as well. His stomach growled from hunger. His lips were dry and head hurting from dehydration. His legs had since gone numb, and the situation seemed helpless. He began to wonder whether he'd ever see the light of day again. Rico had continued praying, but in between his whispers my dad said he began to hear something much more worrying. He said it sounded like laughter, like the laughter of someone who was slightly

amused by a decent joke. Sometimes it seemed like it was coming from Rico, but other times it did not. He heard it from up ahead, back behind, and even down below him. RICO suddenly stopped his prayer sometime later, and Dad says he didn't even notice at first until Rico spoke again. It's in here. Dad tried getting Rico to respond, but he seemed to just ignore his calls. RICO then began to hyperventilate and suddenly screamed. Dad said he'd never heard a more gut-runching scream of terror in all of his life. He tried to calm Rico down with words, but Rico's fear was beyond that. He kept screaming for maybe 30 seconds until his voice went hoarse.

Then, as suddenly as it started, Rico's screaming stopped. Dad doesn't think Rico stopped screaming of his own volition, though. Dad was on the brink of complete panic at this point, and says he could barely contain his own mind. He tried to remain calm and listen, but he could. couldn't hear anything else. Things had suddenly gone eerily silent and RICO never spoke another word. Sometime later, Dad heard something else. He said there was rustling behind him, like the pitter-patter of someone carelessly kicking dirt. He called out, but no one answered. He felt like someone was there, but couldn't see them. He heard the sounds of pebbles

skittering about and rocks creaking, but no more voices. Dad heard the rescuers continuing to hack away in the distance, and at a certain point he said the sounds became almost melodic and led him to sleep. In reality, it was probably his weakened state causing him to lose consciousness. He said the nightmares returned to him, and when he finally woke up, all he saw was searing light. He thought he was dead and had entered the gates of heaven until his vision refocused around him. Slowly, the blurred images of the screens and rhythmic beeping of monitors became clearer. several figures rushed in as he stirred, urging him to be still. The figures then appeared to physically restrain him, causing my dad to panic and thrash out.

He only stopped once he recognized the voice of Carl. Rob, Rob, it's me, Carl. Easy, you're okay. Dad ceased his struggle as the face of his old colleague emerged. He took a deep breath and tried to remember what had happened. Carl then told him everything about the cave in. and the ensuing rescue attempts to free the men. Dad had been trapped underground for almost six days.

He was starving, dehydrated, malnourished and had two broken legs when they finally dragged him out of that hellhole, but he was one of the lucky ones. Carl told my dad he'd been unconscious for two days, and doctors were not sure if he'd ever wake up again. My dad's memory of all of this was fuzzy, and he clung to the hope that what he saw were just fragments of some fever dream, but Carl seemed to confirm the contrary.

He then explained that the rescue team had pretty much cleared the whole cave-in by that point, but my dad was the last one they found. How many were taken? My dad asked. Carl sighed and sat in the chair besides the bed as he shooed the nurses out of the room. Seven unaccounted for.

That response confused my dad. What do you mean? Unaccounted for. There was someone right beside me, and I heard Rico. Dad trailed off and Carl just shook his head. Not when we found you. What? Rob? They didn't find any bodies? Dad didn't know how to respond to that and it seemed Carl didn't either. It doesn't make any sense. The rescue team has cleared all of the debris out by now, but there's no remains. There's no trace of any of them. Silence then fell between them both, as both seemed at a loss for how that could be true.

Maybe they found another way out. Maybe they're still down there. My dad argued. But Carl didn't seem convinced of that logic. My dad said that truth be told, he wasn't either, but he refused to give up on them. Carl cleared his throat. Rob, they've searched the entire system. There's nothing.

Carl lowered his head, and my dad was still reeling. How is that possible? Dad asked. Carl just shook his head. I don't know. But you remember that big slab, right? Yeah? Carl crossed his arms and scoffed, as if what he was about to say seemed unbelievable.

Well, it's back on top of the hole now, just like it was when we found it. Dad just looked at Carl, telling me he was at a complete loss for words. Carl scoffed again. Yeah, I don't understand either. Maybe the cave-in moved it, although I don't see how that would happen, or maybe something else did. Dad said Shivers shot down his spine when Carl said that. He remembered Rico's words, but said when he heard them, he thought they were just ramblings of the fatally wounded, starving man.

He was forced to confront the thoughts again in that moment. But even as he was retelling his tragic story to me, some 19 years after it happened, he still didn't know what to think. Carl then sighed and stood from the chair. He gave my father a look and put his hands in his pockets. We may never know what really happened down there, but I think enough damage has been done. I'm shutting down the project. It's the only thing to do. Get some rest and give me a call when you're ready to go home so I can get you a flight. Carl began to walk away, but my father posed him one

final question. Did they find out what caused the collapse? Carl looked back at him and sighed once more. Nothing conclusive yet. Seismic readings in the nearby town came back normal. We could have struck a root of the system, but I doubt it. Carl then lowered his head. I think there are just some places that are better off left alone. Carl then left, and my dad was alone with his thoughts once more. He signed himself out of the hospital later that day, and 24 hours later he was on a plane back home. I remember this time well. I was maybe 16 when my dad came to me. back home in a wheelchair. My mom was furious and distraught at the sight of her temporarily crippled husband. We were all concerned for our father, but he calmed our worries. He told us he was

in a car accident and apologized for worrying everyone, but he would make a full recovery. He did, just after a few months of physical therapy, but clearly the mental wounds never really healed. I'm sorry I lied to you, son, but I just didn't want to worry you. I didn't even know how to explain it all. Your mother probably would have broken my arms too if she knew what really happened. He laughed as he said it, but I did not. I was still trying to absorb the crazy story he had just told me. You really went through all of that, didn't you? I asked, demanding confirmation one way or another. He was well known for his wild stories after all, and part of me expected him to admit he was pulling my leg. He just sighed and looked me dead in the eye. It's the truth, son.

and it's the reason why I left the industry forever. The way I see it, God gave me a second chance that day and showed me that there are things in this world that we're not meant to find, dark things, that we have no power over. I talked with him for a while after that, after asking more questions about the story,

which I've pretty much described already. I tried to get him to reveal where this story took place, but he refused. Throughout every word he spoke, he maintained that the story was the truth. I eventually asked him permission to share the story with others, and he agreed. And so here I am, sharing the story for all who read it. My father would be pleased to know that another one of his tales has entertained people

even so long after he's gone. I wish everyone could have known him like I did, and seen the desperate fervor in his eyes as he told me this story, regardless of whether you believe this story or were just entertained by some words on a screen for a couple minutes, I think we all can agree that some things are just better off, left buried. There are things that we as a species are just not prepared to encounter, and God help us all if anyone ever digs them up again.

This is my first time really talking about this, so please excuse any weird phrasing. I've also changed my name and my associate's names for privacy, as I'm sure they wouldn't want to be connected to something like this. I used to work in a coffee shop. It was a rundown place nestled on the line between Florida and Alabama. It's situated right beside a highway and blocked off by Linky Pines.

The owners, I won't say their names due to privacy reasons, built it after they got married 15 years ago, but grew too old to take care of it. They ended up giving it to their snobby millennial son-in-law, who flunked out of business school four years ago. He took all of the walls down and got rid of the stained brown carpet and yellow walls, made all four walls completely glass and the floors white. It looks good, better than it used to be,

but completely wasted when you remember that it's a crappy coffee place with three employees in the middle of nowhere across from an Exxon gas station. The manager, the snobby son-in-law, will call him Robert, Rarely came around after he realized how slow business really was. It was kind of sad, actually. He poured all this effort into it, only to turn out 25 or so customers a day. Now, Robert only comes in to deliver my check, where a dozen pastries to the sheriff's office a few miles down the way.

If it sounds bad, it's because it is. I work with two other people, but they can't afford to put us all on one shift like they did before. So now I work the night shift coming in around 3 p.m. and leaving it around 9 p.m. or so. We close for an hour in between each shift so we can brew more coffee and bake pastries. My co-worker, Molly, would almost always come in late for a graveyard shift at basically 11 p.m. But it didn't matter. Robert couldn't care less as long as he didn't have to be there. Molly was really sweet. So today, I got in around 3.15. and entertained a few guests who came in for black coffee before a football game.

That brought in a bit of a rush, since football was the only notable thing this crummy town does on weekdays. I had a few families come in for hot chocolate and warm vanilla lattes. Those were fun to make, since I have all of the time in the world to practice my little art. I made a tiny lily pad and flour on a little girl's hot chocolate. She didn't seem impressed, and I wish I drew a middle finger instead. The rush ended at 7.30 with an older gentleman with tan skin who ordered hot water in a to-go cup.

Just the water? I always ask, just in case I don't have to reopen the tab. Too many indecisive people who changed their mind with their card in the slot already. He looked at me for a moment and nodded. Yeah, that's it for me. Do you need anything? I stopped for a second and met his eyes. They were dark and round, big dark bags under his eyelash. He had wrinkles around his eyes and brows, heavy beard under his lips. I felt my face grow hot.

No, sir, I'm good. Thank you, though. I tried to avert my eyes to his check, which I then realized was free since he only ordered water. You're all set. Stay warm out there. I smiled politely and turned back towards my barista bar, cleaning off my stir spoon with a rag. After a few seconds of silence, I turned and he was still standing, watching me clean.

Is there anything else I can get you? My stomach was turning. I hate this. Being in the middle of nowhere by myself, no one around if someone like this strolled in. I glanced up at the Exxon across the road. The lights were beginning to switch off with the sunset. The clerk must be closing up. I had a can of waspary under the register, and I eyed it quickly.

He shimmied from shoe to shoe, big eyes looking into my soul. What time do you get off tonight? He talked like he knew me personally, like we were supposed to catch a movie afterwards. I flinched, not wanting to tell him the truth. I work a double tonight, so I get off at 2 a.m. late hours. I nodded respectfully and tried to leave the situation by heading towards the back. Why'd you guys put all this glass in here? He called me after I entered the back.

kitchen. I pulled my phone out and set it to call 911, if need be. I set my phone on the counter and faced him, finger hovering over the green call button. You could never be too safe. More natural light. Thought it would bring more people in, I said. He smiled a bit back at me, looking around the empty restaurant. Did it? I laughed humorlessly and shook my head. He finally nodded and started toward the glass door in the front. He finally nodded and started toward the glass door in the front. He took a glance up and down the door, and then slid outside with a wave. I breathed out the air that I had been holding in for his stay. I cleared the numbers off my phone and brought it over with me to the coffee bar. Robert said when I was hired, they have a zero-tolerance policy on phone usage while on the

clock. But Robert plays bitlife in the corner when it's slow, so I stopped caring real fast. I scrolled through Facebook aimlessly and ended up watching a few videos on YouTube. The time ticked on with no one passing through. I thought I saw a car passing by, but it was the Exxon employee going home. I waved widely good night, knowing he would see me through the glass. He offered a half-wave back and turned down the road into darkness. Something stirred behind him in the trees. My eyes darted up the pine tree behind his car, and I noticed it swaying slightly.

Then it stopped. I felt a cold chill race up my back. When I say we're in the middle of nowhere, it's not an exaggeration. The gas station and I were directly across from each other on the county road. On all sides of us were thick woods until about 10 miles when you finally hit a dollar general. Then another 15 or so to the only school in the county. I live about 40 minutes away, so the drive isn't too bad out here. It's just so isolated.

especially when the gas station guy leaves. If there were bears around here, they would probably be here, for sure. The only light in the woods for miles would draw them in with the promise of food. There had been a few animal problems in the past few weeks. The sheriff's office would come in after their shift, talking about farmers having their chickens killed in the night. There wasn't much they could do, but show up to the farmer's houses after the fact with guns drawn. They hadn't caught anything yet, but the townspeople talk all the time about huge footprints in their soil.

I hate the thought of a bear finding me out here. Wasp spray probably wouldn't do too well against one of those beasts. I tried to push the thought out of my mind. I drew on a napkin and listened to Frank Ocean for another hour. Finally, 9 p.m. rolled around. I stood up and started cleaning off the counters and tables, cranking up the music louder. it was finally time to close everything down. I was jamming out,

scraping crumbs off the pillows of the lounge seating when my phone dinged. I slid over the coffee bar, already knowing it would be Molly explaining why she was running late this time. Probably her mom forgot to take out the garbage, or her boyfriend needed a ride to Walmart. I flipped my phone over, and my stomach dropped.

The text was from Molly and stated, Hey girl, I hate to do this, but my brother is sick and gave me the stomach bug, so I can't come in tonight. Can you cover my shift? I'll bring you food next shift. Dang it. I slammed my phone down and closed my eyes. Cover her shift. An hour before I'm supposed to get off? That means I really won't get off until 3 a.m. I called Robert, who didn't answer for the first five rings. The conversation went as follows. Robert. This is Rob. Me. Hey, uh, Molly called out last minute and wants me to cover her shift. Robert. Okay. Me. So can you come in so that I can go home? Robert. Can't tonight. Have you tried Scott?

Me. Heavy size. Yes, I've called Scott and he's only available for mornings. Robert. Well, hey, extra hours, right? Good luck. I fought every urge not to scream into the phone as he disconnected. I decided to sit down and reevaluate every decision that led me here. Yes, I do need more hours. Hospital bills won't pay themselves, but I wish I didn't live here. I spent the next few hours grinding more coffee beans and fantasizing about having a cute apartment in a busy city somewhere.

This and two vanilla chai lattes accompanied my time for the next few hours. It was finally midnight, and I decided, Robert wouldn't know if I closed early, and even if he did, I didn't care. Good luck, jerk. I began switching the lights off and packing away the stale pastries in the glass cabinet below the coffee bar. Finally, I headed toward the glass doors. The locks were these long metal bars that go into a hole in the wood floors, meaning the lock mechanism was all the way at the bottom of the glass. I slid the glass door completely shut and kneeled down. This one was such a pain, It's the only way to keep the glass doors locked without looking trashy, Robert says.

Like the blue neon coffee sign by the highway wasn't already trashy. I sat up on my knees and fiddled with the lock, hovering over the lock a few times to line it up properly. Finally, the lock fell into place and slid in with a faint click. I shimmied the door a bit to ensure it was locked properly. Satisfied and numb-legged, I finally stood up. I was met with the stare of something on the opposite side of the glass. I yelped instinctively, clapping my hand over my mouth.

It had two huge and vividly orange irises that met mine instantly. Almost like it had been staring already, and then I came into view. Its face was pressed against the glass forcefully, pale skin flat against it. I slowly realized it was an animal, a deer. It was a doe with huge orange eyes. At least that's what my instinct told me, since it looked more like a dough than anything else. I stared at it for a few moments more, not knowing what to do. At first, I thought it was not alive, since it was so still.

But then I remembered it was still standing, and its body was moving fluidly, with breaths in and out, calmly. I finally broke my stare and stepped backwards, glancing at its body. It was big for a dough, at least I think so. I'm not too keen on animals like her, but it felt way too big to be normal. Finally, after nature's longest staring contest, I decided it probably wouldn't come up to a man-made structure like this unless it needed help. Animals have a strange way of knowing when humans can help them or not, and this one decided I could give it some help. I turned back to my coffee bar, grabbing my phone to call the sheriff's office. They have an animal control unit that

adored animals. They would be able to help it, I thought. I picked up the phone and dialed the number. Ring, ring. I was still watching the dough. Who was watching me too? Face still plastered uncomfortably against the glass. Big eyes, not blinking. Thank you for calling County Sheriff's Office. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call 911. We are currently out of the office or dealing with a previous issue. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you short. Thank you. I turned towards the kitchen, glancing at the wall clock. Since it's such a small town, they didn't often stay open late at this hour.

I sighed and figured leaving a voicemail would help either way. Maybe someone would come in after whatever accident was holding them up, and would come for help. Hey guys, it's Jenny from the coffee shop down by the state line. Um, I have something weird for you guys. I'm looking for animal control to come help me with something. A dough came up to the shop and it looks like it's in trouble. Its eyes are like super orange. I turned again toward the glass to check on the animal again.

It was sliding sideways, shuffling its legs and keeping its face pressed against the glass, eyes staying on me. It was shimmying sideways to the right slowly. It caught me off guard and I stopped talking. What the? Its eyes are orange and it's acting really, really weird. It might be sick or something. The dough was catching speed, legs wobbly, as it smeared spit across the glass, and slid to the entire other side of the store, never breaking eye contact.

At this point, its lips were pulling back on the glass, revealing its mouth, which were full of red teeth, perfectly square teeth. They looked, well, they looked like human teeth. What the? I took a breath. forgetting I was leaving a message on the phones of a very religious conservative police officers. Sorry, um, something is wrong with it. Like, I think it's really sick and you guys should, um, probably come see and check it out. I don't want to mess with it just in case.

Please hurry. I finally snapped out of it and hung up the phone. I missed the counter with the phone since I was watching the dough and my phone fell on the floor with a crack. The dough stopped. It froze quite literally like a deer in the headlights. It was halfway to the middle door on the right hand of the store. I watched her as she watched me. It felt like years that we stared at each other in stillness and silence.

Then it began again, sliding itself across the glass, but with an unknown speed and purpose. I don't know why, but I grew terrified of this dough for some reason and wanted the doors to be locked. I slid across the floor on my knees, shaking my hands. hands trying to lock the door into place before it was there. She slid across the ground, still hovering a few feet above my crouched figure in height. As I tried to lock the door, I couldn't help but look at it. Something felt so wrong. It was moving so quickly, and its legs couldn't keep up well. Speaking of her legs, they didn't quite look right. They were very long, and the fur around them had been what seems like singed off, leaving dark red and brown skin

underneath. I was about to lock the door with her about six feet away when I finally realized why its legs looked so unusual. Instead of hooves in the dirt, this dough had ankles, joints that connected its skinny legs to its flat pale feet. Feet. What the? I finally yelled out. My skin going freezing. My surprise was short-lived and I didn't have time to think. The door began opening. I clamped my fingers around the lock in the other side of the door, forcing it closed. I looked above me, where the dough had lodged its hand, yes, hand, into the crack between the two doors. It stared at me intently, not moving. I didn't know what to do. I used all of my strength to force the two panes of glass shut over its fingers. I don't know how, but somehow I had the power to force them out of the crack in the door and slammed it shut.

I slid the lock in with tears streaming down my face. I fell back, watching it. It looked unfazed as its fingers dripped with wet liquid. It just watched me unravel. What are you? I couldn't help but ask in fear. It didn't respond. Just sat in the dirt, letting its damaged hands slide across the glass.

Then it smiled. Its human teeth visible beneath its lips. I almost lost my latte over the floor I just, mopped. It started sliding again, but with a new intensity towards the complete other side of glass to the other unlocked door. Luckily, I was faster and scrambled over, locking it quickly before it even reached the halfway mark. We sat on opposite sides of the glass and watched each other intently. I have no idea how. I think it's because of all of my adrenaline had been spent up crying, but somehow I ended up drifting off. I only woke up when my head smacked the side of the mark,

coffee bar. That's when my eyes flew open and the dough was not in front of me. I flew to my feet, adrenaline rushing to my head. How am I so stupid? How did I fall asleep like that? I scanned the surrounding area, shaking like a leaf. The only remnants of the dough was the spit and red trail across the glass doors around me. I felt my heart start to slow down. That's the worst thing to ever happened to me. I took a deep breath and decided morning shift could deal with cleaning the glass, and my time here was done. I waited about 15 more minutes just scanning the night around me. The trees and highway were covered in neon blue light, illuminating my lonely ford in the parking lot, but still no sign of the dough. It was now or never in my mind. I started formulating a plan.

I would have my keys in between my fingers, Walmart parking lot style, and made a mad dash towards my car, then I would lock it immediately and drive like a bad out of hell until I reached home. Yeah, good plan. I never park very far from the staff entrance out back, probably only a hundred feet or so away. I sighed heavily and picked up my phone. The entire front was cracked all the way down, blurring the LED lines into the jagged pink and blue lines. I managed to activate Siri and dialed the sheriff's number again.

It rang and rang. I hung up. I guess I'm on my own. I finally picked myself up, checking my surroundings one more time, all clear. I took this as my sign and started toward the staff door behind the kitchen. I didn't hesitate and swung the door open, keys in hand. The air outside was freezing and completely still. My car sat across the parking lot,

facing the trees. Only a hundred more feet and I would be safe and warm, headed home to deal with whatever trauma I'll have after this. I was running when I saw it. The tree right above my car was swinging back and forth heavily. The only thing moving in the woods. No, no, no, no. I stopped in my tracks, realizing what was happening. Finally, the familiar red fingers began shimmying down the tree, leading itself downwards toward the ground. I saw the time. I saw the time. top of its head, illuminated with blue light. It looked like stitches trailing all the way down its back, gross and raw. It was moving at an incredible speed, climbing face first down the tree. It took me a few seconds to react, and in that time it had landed on all fours on the grass right beside the driver's side

of my car. It paused, its orange eyes meeting mine once again, except it didn't look like a dough anymore. Besides the pelt of speckled white and brown around its body, it looked like a person, or maybe something in between a dough and a person. If that was a real thing, its skin was half fur, half charred flesh. Its teeth were bare now, no lips holding them back, just skin around its face, like it had been cut open. I couldn't help it and screamed. It came out of me before I even knew it was there, and I started running back to the store. I could hear its heavy footsteps behind me, extremely fluid and only a few inches away from my steps. I flung myself inside, holding the door handle closed. It was obviously messing with the door on the other side, trying to hungrily open it.

Even though it was struggling, it made no noise, no panting, no grunting. It was soundless, like a hunter. It was hunting me. Then I heard it. So clear, I could almost let go of the handle entirely. Hey, Jenny, sorry I'm late. I had to stop and get gas. It's Molly. Molly?

Right outside the door? What? Is all I could say, tears on my eyelashes again. Yeah, I'm sorry again. I already talked to Robert, so you're good to leave. Relief. Sweet relief that I wasn't alone. Then panic.

Molly, you have to leave. There's something outside. Can you let me in? It's freezing out here. My body ran cold. Yes, of course I have to let her in. I wanted to, so badly in that moment, to open the door and let Molly in on this nightmare. My grip on the door loosened. Then it hit me. Molly is sick. She wasn't coming in at all tonight. Why is she suddenly here? Can you let me in now? Please? Her voice was strained and wrong. It was pitched so much lower than her normal bubbly voice. That wasn't Molly. My grip was too loose with confusion. The door was flung open. I scrambled backwards on my back again. I stood up on two legs and finally got a good image of it. It was huge. Had to be six feet tall and skinny as the pine trees behind it. It had something under its head. well, under its doe head, something that resembled the jaw of a human, except it was unhinged and swinging from side to side with its motion. Red liquid dripped onto the floor, its body was wiry, and I could see through its papery skin. And that's all I saw before my fear made me uncapped the wasp spray behind me, and shoot it

right in its direction. It stumbled backwards for a second, and I took my chance to get back off and run like no one's business. I leaped over the coffee bar and started unlocking the glass door. It started sliding across the slick door with its inhuman speed and the lock was not unlocking. I screamed, trembling so hard the lock slipped out of my fingers. Somehow, don't ask because I have no clue. I managed to slip it upwards and the glass slid to the side. I got on my feet and yanked the door shut behind me. I didn't turn, but felt the glass shatter into pieces only a few feet from my back. Shards of glass embedded themselves into my back of my flannel as I propelled myself forward toward the Exxon Station. They have an outdoor bathroom that was always locked that I used every now and

again, and I've never wanted to be in that tiny smelly bathroom more in my entire life. Before my feet hit the asphalt on the road, I felt it, hands on my back, on my collar, strong forceful hands on my shirt, yanking me backwards. No, I cried, snatching my arms forward, desperately, raking my feet towards the highway. I felt my limbs cry out in pain as its nails dug into me. No, I thought it came from me. Then I realized I hadn't spoke. It wasn't me. This thing has said it, and it sounded just like me. It was copying me. This is what broke me, and I finally launched myself over the threshold into the road. I lost its grip and I twisted around to face it, crawling backwards out of the road. My elbows hit the soft dirt and I fell backwards, pulling myself

into a ball. It geared up its body to leap. I shut my eyes, then it was gone. A huge wave of air zoomed between us, followed by squealing brakes. The dough was launched yards and yards away into the woods. I heard a sickening crack as its back hit the bark of a pine tree. I watched it stumble into the brush below. How the truck missed me is completely beyond me. Did it hit a person? Was that a person? The guy driving was yelling, eyes huge.

I warily stood up, grabbing the rolled-down window to look at my savior. No, I shook my head and leaped into the back of the truck. I asked the guy to drive me to the sheriff's office, which he finally did after I convinced him that I was not going to turn him in for vehicular manslaughter. He had been high as a kite, speeding up to 70 in a 35 road with his lights off. That's why I didn't see him until he hit the dough. I really didn't turn him in, not that he gave me the chance. I got out of the back of his truck, and he sped off, turning the lights on and getting the hell out.

Luckily, two of the officers were there, awake and overwhelmingly worried when I showed up. They went over with their full unit and animal control, but I did not go with it. them. Apparently, they followed the red trails from the shop into the woods, and it stopped completely, out of nowhere, right at the woods line. They saw where my shirt had ripped by the highway and collected it for me. They ran samples on the DNA found. It didn't match anyone. They had to close down the coffee shop since I told Molly what happened, and we both quit. Scott and Robert were the only one's working, but it didn't take long for the horror story to reached Scott, who then quit mid-shift. The town talked for sure. People came to my house asking about it.

The police chalked it up to being a bear or a wolf or some large animal that had rabies and was chasing me around. This was the story they went with, writing it in the papers, telling my family. I told my family what I saw, and they decided I was too terrified and traumatized to be seeing things correctly. Though there was a glint in the sheriff's eye when I told him what it looked like. Something inside of him believed me. I moved to Seattle a week later, taking out a loan and renting a studio right in the heart of the city, surrounded by people. I didn't work anything but day shifts anymore, and I haven't had a chai latte since. I keep the red-stained scrap of my flannel in my wallet as a constant reminder that somehow I'm alive. I've told no one except my girlfriend who moved in with me, and now you guys.

We keep the lights on in the apartment constantly, even when we sleep, and I haven't passed a bottle of wasp spray without having a panic attack since. Truly, I don't know what happened, or what that dough really was. I don't understand anything that happened, except that now I have crippling anxiety when nighttime rolls around, and that I nearly scare myself every time I see a deer of any sort. My girlfriend found a therapist for me, and I go every now and then,

but I don't really talk about what happened, just how alone I feel since it happened, that no one can relate to me, and no one else would ever believe me. Every now and then I get a call from the sheriff who is genuinely concerned with my well-being after seeing me in that state that night. The most recent time he called, I didn't pick up,

as I finally fell asleep that night, which was incredibly rare for me to fall asleep without sleeping pills. I woke up the next morning and grogly checked my phone. He called once. He left a message, though. Hey, Jenny, it's me again. Just wanted to check up on you. I haven't seen you in a while.

I didn't realize you left so quickly. I didn't have time to say goodbye. You should come visit again soon. We miss you here. Take care. I listened to it probably 12 times. I played it from my girlfriend, and we both listened to it for a few more times after comparing it to the other messages he had left. But she confirmed exactly what I thought too. Something was off about this one. It was lower pitched and strained. Not quite his voice. It was midsummer when I got the message from my friend, Sam. I was lying in the January sun, in my back garden with my dog, Brutus, at my side. When I decided to open up Instagram and saw I had a message, it read,

Hey Cassie, Kyle, Olive, Thea, and I are getting together to go camping in a week, and I was really hoping you could come. I sat straight up, causing a sigh from Brutus, who had been leaning his head on my head, shoulder. I wrote back. Yeah, of course. Can I bring Brutus? Immediately my phone pinged with their response. Good idea. Scare away the cryptids you're always talking about, L.O. They were right. I was obsessed with the paranormal, especially cryptids. So come Monday when it was time to leave, I was sure to bring my notebook, Polaroid camera, and of course, my knife. Although realistically, the last one was mostly for self-defense against any weirdos we meet out there.

My family always says I'm paranoid, but it's better safe than sorry, you know. We decided to take my off-roader so we could head deeper into the woods without having to carry our stuff, so after chucking my backpack in the trunk, I drove toward my closest friend, Kyle's house. When I stopped outside his house, he was already waiting in the driveway. He jumped into the middle set of seats, wanting to sit next to Brutus. The huge black dog was stretched across the back seat, sluggish from the heat. But he offered Kyle a tail wag of acknowledgement as my friend began to pet him. Hey dude, I said, greeting my friend.

Hey, he responded. There was a pause before he leaned forward. So, Olive's coming on the trip, huh? Shut up, I said. It's not like I have a chance with her anyways. He leaned back, smiling. Just be yourself, you'll be fine. You should really just ask her.

I hit the play button on my phone's Spotify playlist and turned it up way too loud to drown him out. We proceeded to pick up Olive from her house, a quaint cottage nearby, and then Sam and Thea from their apartment in the city. By the time we reached the highway, it was nearing 5 p.m. I turned down the music and we were sitting and talking to pass the time.

After an hour or so, I turned off onto a smaller road and started heading for the campsite. Hey, Cassie, how long until we get there, Kyle asked, who was still patting Brutus. I shrugged, not taking my eyes off the road. Sounds like a question for the navigator was my response. He turned to Olive, who was in the seat next to me with her phone linked up to the GPS. Should be about a half an hour until he reached the brush,

then another hour or so down the track to the campsite. He slumped back with a resigned sigh. His arms crossed over his stomach. Can we stop for a break soon? We stopped just before we got onto the highway. You'll live. He returned to Padding Brutus. After a moment, Sam spoke up.

Cassie, why don't you tell what you'll think we'll see tonight? The others perked up, watching me. Well, Waka's, a type of bird, are pretty common in this area. The occasional deer, possibly. If we're lucky, we'll hear the bird's calling. This far out we might even see one, if we're quiet. That would be excellent, but I more meant the creepy stuff. You know, your area.

It was my turn to perk up. Although I'm far from an expert on cryptids or the paranormal, I know my fair share of information, certainly more than the others. It's highly unlikely we'll see anything unnatural, you know. I never see anything at this campsite, and even if there were, it's a million to one we'd run into it. We're more likely to run into a druggie.

Speaking of which, do we all have our phones? And we remember the buddy system? Okay, Mom, replied Kyle, rolling his eyes. I just want to keep everyone safe. I responded evenly, suppressing a smile. There was another pause until Thea leaned forward to continue the questions. Seriously, though, even if it's unlikely we'd see anything, what do you think's out there? I decided I'd refrain from scaring my friends for long enough.

Well, it's the woods, so you never know. My best guess could be some kind of crawler, a stick man, or something like that. Of course, normally my first thought would be a skinwalker or when to go, but I believe those are only in America. Some kind of dogmen might be possible, actually. Dior, perhaps. Hold up, back up the bus, said Kyle. You're acting like I know all of these words. Yeah, said Sam.

What on earth is a Dior? I settled back in my chair, easing up on the accelerator as I turned down a dirt road heading towards the approaching tree line. Well, it's basically a deer, but something's not right, you know. too many joints in the legs, or even the legs bent totally backwards, sharp teeth with a mouth that hangs open like a dog's. I've even heard of some that can bend their necks with a joint. Kyle shivered.

I think the creepiest thing about them, though, is their eyes. Set forward on their face instead of on the side like a deer's should be. Like a predator? said Olive. Exactly, I replied, pleased. Most reports say they're pretty harmless, though. Just because they say they could rip you into pieces might not mean they want to. Like Brutus, I suppose. I reach into the back seat and pet Brutus, who responded by licking my hand.

Regardless, best to keep a distance. As soon as I finished, Thia had a question. You mentioned crawlers. Fleshgates? What are those? The sunlight was slowly starting. to fade, so I flipped on the headlights before answering. Humanoids, you know. Crawlers is a pretty broad term. Pretty much covers anything that's more or less human-shaped, but not quite. Too tall, too thin,

often less facial features than you'd expect. Fleshgates are shapeshifters. Think Skinwalker, but without the ties to Native American culture. And those things are real? And they're out there? said Kyle. concern on his face as he leaned a little closer to Brutus. I shrugged. I reckon all of those sightings can't come from nowhere. As for in this place specifically, no idea. But don't worry about it too much. As I said, it's highly unlikely we'll see one. Kyle nodded, still looking a bit worried. Olive spoke from next to me, placing her hand briefly on my shoulder as she did. My heart skipped a beat as she did, and I had to force my eyes on the road, so I didn't go red. I barely heard her question over my own minor panic, but after a second, I registered her words.

Is there anything paranormal that actually scares you? I took a deep breath before responding, remembering what Kyle said, Just be yourself. Well, obviously, I'd be terrified if I ever actually came across one of these freaky things, but in terms of just chatting. Not really. It was pretty quiet after that. Soon enough, I reached the woods

and we started down the old trail, my car's wheels easily carrying us over the rocks, roots, and even the occasional stream. Not long after the sun had fully set, Kyle sat straight up. Do you hear that? I slammed on the brakes and looked out the window at where he was pointing.

Sure enough, the bushes were wrestling. We stayed quiet. Olive leaning over to me, looking out my window, her closeness pulled me out of my focus for a moment before I returned my eyes on the wrestling, which was quickly coming closer. The tension in the car was palpable, and I could see Kyle looking scared in my peripheral. Maybe I shouldn't have taught them about cryptids after all. But before I could ponder much longer, a deer sprung from the bushes and leaped in front of the car across from us. As it passed, I noticed one of its antlers seemed to have been snapped to clean off. Weird. Everyone jumped backwards in shock at the sudden appearance of the deer. But once we all saw what it was, we all started laughing. Wow, Kyle, that was scary. A deer.

Ooh. Sam continued to make ghost noises, and Thea and I joined in. Kyle rolled his eyes. Whatever, guys, you were just as scared as I was. It could have been a monster. Nope, all its eyes and legs were in the right places, said Thea. The only crypted around here is Sam, and I think they're with us. I laughed and started up the car, continuing on.

Motion in the rearview mirror caught my attention, and, as the others laughed, I watched something leap across the road. Something about the way it moved made me nervous, but when I tried to look closer, it was gone. I shook it off as a trick of my mind. mind, which makes me sound like just another stupid horror story protagonist. I know. But to be fair, it's not uncommon for my mind to play tricks on me. Something to do with my anxiety, I've been told. I easily put it out of my mind as I had trained myself to do so and kept driving, chatting with my friends until we reached the campsite. I pulled the tent out of the trunk and marked where we

were going to set it up. You four should set up the tent. Why don't you have to help? asked Kyle. I just drove four hours, Kyle. I think I can allocate the chores. I'm useless at setting that thing up anyway. I turned to head into the tree line at the edge of the clearing, but was stopped again. Where are you going? asked Sam.

Their look followed my path. I'll go get some wood and start up a fire. I set off into the trees, flicking on my flashlight as I did. I started picking up sticks. carefully inspecting each one for any small animals I didn't want to accidentally set ablaze. As I turned one over, a small vagrant spider crawled out onto my hand. I smiled, crouched down, and gently deposited him on the soft ground.

There you go, sir. When I stood up, I noticed something strange. The night sounded quieter somehow. The cicadas still chirped, but something seemed almost mechanical. about their sounds. I listened for the nighttime birds or possums, but nothing reached my ears. Weird, I murmured to myself. I hastily inspected a few more sticks and carried my bundle back to the campsite. By the time I returned, the sound had returned to normal. The familiar call of the nearby birds reassured me, and I dumped the sticks in the center of the clearing. Between the four of them,

my friends had managed to wrestle my family's giant tent into shape. Brutus was already snoring inside, seemingly exhausted, despite having done nothing all day. I pulled a matchbox from my backpack, lit it, and started the fire. You guys, start bringing over some logs for us to sit on. I instructed my friends as I gently encouraged the fire to grow. Once it had grown to an acceptable size, I stood up, walked over to the car. I grabbed Brutus' bed in a bag of marshmallows from the back and dropped it next to the logs, calling him to join us.

He stiffly rose his paws and lumbered over to it, accepting a pat on the head before flopping down on his bed with an audible flumph. I sat down on the log's end, spearing a marshmallow before chucking the bag to Thea, who had sat next to me. We sat for a while, laughing and chatting. Eventually, I reached down to check the time before we were. remembering that I thought I'd left my phone in the tent. Hey, does anyone have the time? I asked. Kyle put his hands in his pocket before freezing, and slowly turning to me with a sheepish look. Uh, Cassie, what have you done? Normally, he'd rolled his eyes at my instant assumption,

but this time he just continued talking slowly, as if trying not to get in trouble. I think I left my phone when we stopped to use the bathroom. We had to stop for a bathroom, break after the deer encounter, about ten minutes before we arrived to the campsite, because Brutus started whining, and I didn't want to risk him doing his business on the seat. We'll get it first thing tomorrow, I said, shaking my head in mild annoyance. But Cassie, it might rain, and you know I don't have the money to replace the thing. Can't you just go back and have a quick check? Fine, but if I get there and I don't see it, I'm coming straight back.

I briefly considered taking Brutus, but I knew he'd be reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire to follow me down a less than well-maintained path. Just as I stood up, Kyle motioned for me to stop. You can't go alone. It's not safe. Maybe Olive could go with you. Jerk, I thought to myself. Even deep in the forest, in the middle of the night, he still has to try to set me up. If anyone should go, it's you. You're the one who dropped the thing. He shook his head quickly. Nuh, I've got little legs, remember? I'll slow you down, especially this late at night.

You know I'm right. I'm glad you're finally admitting it, I said with another sigh. Olive, do you mind? She smiled and stood up. Course not. Maybe we'll even see a bird like you said. Maybe, I replied with a grin. Then you wish you had gone, I said to Kyle as we will.

walked out of the clearing. He ignored me. As we walked down the track, I kept my guard up, constantly scanning the trees on each side for a sign of any unsavory people hiding in the night. Was I worried about confrontation? Not really. Not only am I around 6'3, I'm pretty heavy built, especially for a 17-year-old. And if I had to punch someone, then let's just say it wouldn't be my first rodeo. Nonetheless, I didn't want them getting the element of surprise. Maybe I'm a little paranoid after all. The track was muddy and uneven, and I had to slow my pace a little so Olive could negotiate through the dips and puddles. As we chatted, I found myself starting to relax a little. I still kept my eyes and ears open, but something about her smile

an infectious laugh made me feel a little less nervous in the darkness. A few minutes before we reached the spot, we came across a small stream about a meter wide. Not wanting to get my shoes wet, I leaned over and turned around to where Olive was about to jump. I held my hand out to her, and she took it without hesitation. I helped her cross the gap, and she smiled that gorgeous smile. Thanks, Cassie, she said. My heart leaped as she did, and I saw. smiled back. No problem, ma'am, I responded, jokingly, adding a little bow. She laughed and

continued down the track, knowing I'd catch up in a second. Once we arrived, I started to look around for Kyle's lost phone. I cast my flashlight beam around, hoping to catch a reflection of either the phone's screen or the obnoxious pink case he kept it in. Olive was looking around on the other side of the road, her own beam bouncing around my peripheral. When it stopped sharply, I turned around. Found it? I asked. Following the beam of her torch into the trees. She slowly shook her head. No, I, I thought I saw something in the trees. I raised my flashlight scanning the forest. No sign of movement. Let's go back, I said, starting to head back up the path. I don't think the phone's here anyways. She didn't argue, just nodded, and followed my lead. Sensing her uneasiness, I gave her

a reassuring smile and flipped my torch in the air, catching it, holding it like a weapon. Don't worry, I'll protect you from anyone out here. She giggled, or anything. I nodded with a chuckle, but as soon as I had, I felt a cold chill. She had brought my mind back to cryptids, and I noticed for the first time that the forest was silent. The birds hadn't made a noise since we had left the campsite. I couldn't hear rustling of the small animals in the brush, and the only thing my ears could pick up on was the same mechanical cicada chirps from before.

The more I listened, the more unnaturally sounded, as if someone was playing a recording on loop. I picked up my pace a little, ushering Olive forward. She looked at me in confusion. as if to ask why. Bit cold, I said, as quietly as I could without alarming her. We rounded a corner

before Olive suddenly stopped us in our tracks. She inhaled a sharp breath of air as if she'd seen something shocking. A sense of dread washed over me as I followed her look to the damaged body that blocked the path. Is that a deer? She asked, eyes wide with disgust and fear.

I grimaced looking at, over. I think it used to be. I replied grimly. It was torn almost beyond recognition, broken and stuff jutting from its back. I felt sick to my stomach, unable to tear my look from its eyes. The broken antler on its head confirmed what I had feared. This was the same deer as before. I had seen something chasing it in my rearview mirror. Whatever this thing was, it had been stalking us since we had entered the woods, waiting for someone. to leave the safety in light of the campsite. I cursed under my breath and realized we might be in serious trouble. Just as I thought I couldn't get any more scared, I heard a voice from behind me.

There you go, sir. The voice, coming from a few meters behind us, was my own, distorted and strained, but unrecognizably mine. I felt the color drained from my face as it repeated what I had said to that little spider only hours before. I felt Olive start to turn beside me, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. Don't look at it. Don't respond to it. Don't even acknowledge it. Look down if you can. Just follow my lead, okay? I whispered, waiting for her nod of agreement before taking a slow step forward. As I slowly stepped over the deer, my shoes instantly became splashed with its crimson fluids. Olive grabbed my hand, and I squeezed it reassuringly.

careful not to look at the path behind us as I did. She stepped over the deer, her breath shaking, and we slowly continued up the path. Every step we took we heard the crunching of leaves behind us. My heart raced and my mind reeled with pure terror as I forced myself not to sprint into the trees. I knew full well that whatever this thing was, we couldn't outrun it. After a couple of minutes, it spoke again.

Thank you, Cassie. I winced as it said my name, the voice I loved, now striking terror into my heart. I heard olive whimper a little as she heard her own voice coming from this thing. I squeezed her hand again, making sure she knew I was right there. We walked in tense silence, other than the occasional word from the creature. When we were only a couple of minutes from the camp, disaster struck. I tripped over a route, landing hard on the ground and wincing as I felt a rock get my skin. The sudden movement seemed to excite the creature as I suddenly heard it pick up its pace considerably.

I leaped back to my feet and once again grabbed Olive's arm before sprinting down the path. Run! I yelled, but she was already caught up to me. My breath was quick and heavy with fear. My leg screaming in pain as I was forced to bear it with my weight. run, run, run. It repeated my yells over and over, as if taunting us. It probably was. I felt panic rise as I heard the calls coming closer.

Even if we're nearly at the campsite, we'll never beat it. I veered off the path, pulling olive with me. We ducked down behind a bush a few feet from the path, trying to quiet our heavy breathing. I heard it skid to a stop a few feet ahead and turn around, sniffing to try to try to catch our scent. I silently prayed to any and all gods I could think of that it didn't find us. To my horror, the disgusting sniffing grew closer until it finally stopped, inches from our hiding spot. Found it? The annotation was just the same as when I had asked Olive if she had found the phone, but I knew that the connotations had changed. It was telling us it had found us. For a few moments

there was a complete silence in the forest, aside from my heart hammering in my chest, and olives muffled sobs as she buried her face into my shoulder, there was nothing. No indication it had moved closer or any further away. It didn't even bother to fill the silence with the fake cicadas sounds it had tried to trick us with earlier. Suddenly, it leaped over the bush where we hid and stood before us. As much as I didn't want to, we finally saw it in all of its repulsive glory. Its arms and legs were ridiculously long and thin. Its legs bent backwards at the knees like it was some kind of insect. Even on all fours, it was a solid five feet tall. I saw its ribs slide under its skin as it took a breath. Its bulbous veins bulging with every beat of its unnatural

heart, it tilted its head to the side, bones cracking under the skin as its neck bent like the joints of a finger. The severed antler of the deer hung from its jaws, caught between two of its needle-like teeth. Teeth seemed to sprout at random from its gums, creating a jagged minefield of spikes and stumps. What I initially thought was just ingrown teeth and chunks of flesh quickly made me sick to my stomach as I realized they were, in fact, human teeth amongst the fangs. its tongue hung from its mouth, slick and unnatural. I avoided eye contact for as long as I could, but eventually it grabbed my gaze like a fisherman hooking in his catch.

Its eyes were completely human, so out of place on its pale, expressionless face that they were scarier than any of the blackened holes you hear about could ever be. In that moment, I knew it was the end. I wrapped my arms around Olive for a moment before moving to a state, stand. She tried to pull me back, but I was stronger, forcing my shaking legs to hold me upright, as a tear rolled down my cheek. I pulled my knife from my belt and held it just out of view at my side. Run, I said quietly to Olive. She hesitated, not wanting to leave me, but after a moment she did as

instructed. The creature jolted to the side as if to go after her, but I held its look and it slowly returned to how it was standing before. It crept towards me, sniffling at me through the holes in its face, I assumed was its nostrils. The deer antler dislodged from its teeth and landed on the ground with a sickening thud. The unholy amalgamation of human and animal continued to sneak towards me, and the moment it was within reach, I stuck my knife into its pale, moldy skin. It shrieked in pain, its horrific screech making my ears ring. It flung me into a nearby tree, knocking the wind out of me. It scuttled towards me, and I closed my eyes in preparation for the worst.

Just as I felt its breath on me, I heard a loud barking from a few feet behind the creature. It spun around, and as it did, it moved just enough to love. let me see what was happening. Brutus, my gentle giant, who had never so much as growled at a passing cat, was snarling and snapping its teeth like some kind of mad dog. Before I'd fully registered what was happening, there was a disgusting squelch and the creature once again shrieked in agony. The antler from before protruded from its left eye.

Black liquid sprayed from the wound as the olive stood over its body. Good thinking, I said, before leaping over it and maybe, a bee-line for the campsite. When we got back, the others had already packed everything into their car and were waiting for us. Thea, who was in the driver's seat, honk the horn in recognition, and Kyle flung the door open and leapt into the back row. Olive, Brutus, and I piled into the middle seat, slamming the door, and Olive yelled at Thea to step on it. The car roared into motion as we raced down the trail as fast as we could go without running the risk of crashing. With no warning, A figure sprung from the bushes and landed on the hood of the car with a thunk as it dented the metal.

Thea screamed and swerved the car side to side, trying to dislodge the thing. It dug its long, claw-like fingers into the hood and shrieked, raising one more hand and scratching the windshield. Thea floored the gas and the sudden boost of speed, sent it flying into the glass, cracking it as it did. And then it fell under the wheels of the car. We mowed it down and didn't stop. desperate to get out of there as fast as we could. I looked back in the rearview mirror and watched as it popped its slime back into place

and scurried into the bushes. Disturbing as it was, I didn't care. I was safe. Soon enough, we were free from the forest and heading back down the dirt road. As soon as we returned to the highway, Thea changed her route, and within the hour we had arrived to the nearest hospital.

Olive and the others waited with me as the doctors disinfected the wound and stitched me up. Despite us being shaken up to our very cores, we chatted and even cracked a few jokes about the thing because, hey, what else can you do? My parents arrived a couple hours later, armed with snacks and a few blankets from my friends and I. If it weren't for the traumatic event only a few hours before and the fact I was lying in the hospital bed, suffering from blood loss, it probably would have been nice. That was a few weeks ago now. In case you're wondering, yeah, me and Olive got together.

I wish it hadn't taken a horrific cryptid to get us there. But hey, that's life. The car was a pain to get fixed, but other than that, I'm doing okay. Judging by the group therapy sessions, I think we all are. One thing's for sure, though. I'm never going into those woods again. I had heard of Skinwalkers before, but always just assumed they were Native American versions of werewolves, so I never gave them much thought.

Until last week when one of my coworkers, at my new job, told me that they were the most feared folklore creature. He's originally from Utah, so that makes sense. He suggested some YouTube videos to watch on the subject, and after work that night, I binged about four or five of the videos. I totally understand his stance on them now. I live in rural South Carolina, so completely honest, I wasn't too worried about the possibility of running into one. My co-worker told me that they're basically a Midwestern thing. I'd be more worried about Wendigows if I were you. He joked the day after I watched the videos.

We had a good chat about Skinwalkers and Wendigows during our shift and just reveled in the creepiness of them. I mention how one of the tales said that the more you talk about Skinwalkers, the more they're drawn to you, and he made a sarcastic ghost noise to keep the mood light. That night, I showed the videos to my fiancé. She was way more creeped out than I was. I became kind of obsessed. I love scary things and couldn't help watch every video I came across. I discussed Skinwalkers with my other horror enthusiast friends, looked up Skinwalker art,

read True Skinwalker's stories on Reddit, just dove head first into all things, Skinwalker. This went on for a few days until I started feeling a bit burned out on the subject. I live in a fairly nice neighborhood where all of the houses are on one side of the street. On the other side is the property that used to belong to the local elementary school. The building is on the next street over, so basically it was like the school's backyard or whatever. The school shut down about 30 or 40 years ago, and the county just let nature reclaim it. So directly across from my house is an old chain-link fence and just overgrown woods. About two nights ago while I was outside, I heard leaves rustling across the street.

I didn't bother looking up from my phone. I live across from woods. It was probably a deer. The rustling stopped. Then it started again, and it sounded like whatever was a little. out there was running back and forth along the fence line, panting like a dog. This caught my attention. There had been a few rabies cases in the town two months back, so a strange dog running around in the middle of the night was definitely something I'd want to keep an eye on. I look up

from my phone in the direction of the sounds, and they just stop. It was like they knew I noticed it. I strained my eyes to see what it was, but it was obscured by the overgrowth. I didn't look. I didn't look away, must have stared at that spot for at least a minute. I didn't make another sound, didn't move again, so I knew it was still there. A chill ran down my spine, and I began to think of every Skinwalker video I had watched over the last week, and I felt sick to my stomach. I quickly went inside. The next morning, I took my dog out for a short walk. She's a pug zoo named Honey and is like my child. My fiancé and I taught her that pee-pip-poo means time to go outside to go potty. It's the cutest thing. Anyway, this particular morning I had to take her outside to the front yard to do her business.

She does her business and then walks around sniffing for about five minutes before walking to the side of the street and sitting down. She's never done this before, so I was a little annoyed. I tugged on her leash lightly and tried to coax her back inside the house. Come on, honey. Gotta go poopoo? She didn't budge. This dog could be stubborn sometimes, but this was something else. She tugged back against the leash and just stared across the street, sniffing the air occasionally. It was then I realized she was staring at the exact spot that I heard the thing the night before. I got goosebumps, and I quickly picked her up and began walking back to the house. As I got closer, I noticed something on the ground on my front steps. It was one of the Halloween decorations my fiancé had hung up on our house, plastic black

roses with plastic eyeballs and spiders on them. The stems were wire so they can be wrapped around things to keep them secured. This flower was torn apart. Something had come on my porch, taken down the flower, and torn it apart, leaving it laying on my front step. I picked up the flower and threw it away. I didn't tell my fiancé. I didn't want to freak her out. The rest of the day went by uneventfully. That night I told my co-worker about what happened,

and he looked a little concerned, but brushed it off. He said what I heard was most likely just a dog, and the flower was probably knocked down by the wind. I had my doubts. As I was walking to my door, after getting home from work last night, I heard the same panting as the night before, and the clicking of claws against asphalt. I turned quickly to see a dog that looked like a brown mangy bull terrier hauling down my street.

The street is probably 40 feet away from my porch, so I couldn't get a great look at it, but I could tell it was only running on three legs, because one looked mangled. It turned quickly and darted into the tree line across the street, threw a part of the fence that had been pulled back. The fence wasn't like that earlier in the day. That's when I noticed the dog didn't have a tail. I almost threw up. Skinwalker legends say that when they take the form of an animal,

they never have tails. I tried to rationalize it to myself. Maybe it just had a stub tail and I missed it because I was running. I immediately went inside. My fiancé was sitting on the porch, petting honey. She could see I was upset. and asked me what was wrong. I told her nothing.

Just almost got clipped by a car before I pulled into the driveway. She got up, hugged me, and cursed that person that almost hit me. She asked me if I could take Honey out because she had been creeped out by all the spooky videos we've been watching and didn't feel comfortable going outside at night by herself. Honey perked up. She ran to the door and looked between me and the door, whining excitedly. I stared down at her for a moment before agreeing to it.

I'll just keep her close to the porch, I thought. We walked off the porch and she immediately tried to walk to the street. I tugged on the leash and she tugged back. Eventually mozied her way to the edge of the porch and did her business. After she began walking around sniffing, I told her the usual line. Come on, honey. Gotta go poo poo? She huffled at me, sniffed around some more, and eventually started.

I was on edge the entire time we were outside, but being around her helped calm me down a little. I then heard it from across the street. Come on, honey. My voice, in the exact same tone and inflection as I had just said it, it sounded static-y, like an old radio broadcast. But it was definitely my voice. Honey stopped what she was doing and stood alert. She looked over at me with a confused look. Honey. Again, my voice filled across the street. Honey began whining, looking from me to the woods

across the street. I picked her up and began walking back up the steps, not taking my eyes off the part of the fence that had once been pulled back. Honey, come. The voice sounded firm now, like it was getting aggravated. Honey squirmed in my arms, whining. I didn't know if she was trying to get out to go run to the voice or to run inside, but I wasn't taking any chances. I turned and bolted up the steps into the door. As I walked inside, I turned one last time to look across the street. There, standing in the part of the fence that was pulled back, was the dog. Its eyes were glowing a dull orange, and it had its teeth bared.

The fence was all wrong, like someone had taken a distortion tool and just dragged it around random features. Once again, I didn't tell my fiancé. Stupid horror movie cliche crap, I know. But I really don't want her losing her mind. I just told her there's a strange dog running around in the neighborhood, so to not take honey out at night. Later that night, after we had gone to bed, I woke up again with the sounds of footsteps pacing back and forth outside my window.

Against my better judgment, I rolled over to try to see it. I don't, but the pacing's still. stops. Come on, honey. My voice called out, cutting through the quiet of the night. I prayed my fiancé didn't hear. It called out two more times before I heard it walking away. I didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night.

Today, when I get to work, I'm going to ask my co-worker what I can do to get rid of this thing. I'm scared. I don't think there's a way. If anyone knows anything. Please let me know. I don't usually write things like this, but I find it necessary. You see, a few nights ago, my friends and I went hiking deep in the woods. We live in a small town in Norway.

The summers are short there, so we try to profit as much as we can from them. In our town, there is an old legend that if you go too deep in the woods, you might find the monster of many skins. Growing up, our parents used it as a way to scare us from going too far into the woods. The legend says that the monster of many skins eats the people who go too far into the woods. As we got older, though, we started to realize it was just a fable. We grew out of it, like most kids do. Monsters don't exist, do they? My small group of friends never stopped believing in that, though.

Instead of staying out of the forest, we wanted to go deeper and eventually find that monster. That's why we held parties in the woods to test our luck. That particular day, we heard that some kids in our school had found the beast, but were lucky enough to get away. I was always the skeptical one, so I didn't quite believe their story, but my friends wanted to know the truth. That night, we traveled deep into the woods. We packed a case of drinks and a notepad to log our encounter and headed off. Leaving at sundown, we trekked into the woods. We were quite deep in the woods when we found a small, run-down hunting cabin, and broke the door open.

Moss was littering the outside, and I can say more than a few animals had made their home inside. We opened the door, an intense rush of dust hit our face and made us wheeze even after we had left. Everything inside had been turned around and pushed to all corners of the room. The cabin itself was around 10 feet by 12 feet and covered in a thick layer of dust. The roof of the cabin was caving in. In the corner of the room was a journal on a small round table. The cover was made of a thick leather and it was bound with string. The paper inside of it was thick and darkened with age.

We gathered around the journal and opened it, reading it. Reading it, it seemed like a normal diary written by an old huntsman from the late 1700s. Most of the pages contained a log of what he had caught and where he had been. There was nothing specifically unusual about it, except for where it was placed. As I'd said before, the rest of the room's furniture was pushed to the corners of the room, but the book was placed on the top of a small table in the middle of the cabin. To me, it looked almost antler-like. Nothing was out of the ordinary, aside from the few last pages.

We presumed either the hunter had died or had completely forgotten about the journal, as if he had left in a rush. I will write for you the last few pages of the journal. December 28, 1792. Today, I caught but one hair. Although it's the midst of winter, and there is not much wildlife around, I find it rather weird that there is not more animals out. It is abnormally cold out, and I sense a big storm coming.

The sun has just set, but is not dark yet. I set up camp in a small overgrown area, where the cedar leaves create a little shelter. I am quite afraid it will grow too cold for me to stay here. My beard is covered in frost, and my face is going numb. I have started a fire to keep warm. I've been sitting around this fire for a while now, and it's starting to get dark. The storm is coming. I feel the wind picking up.

The snow is light for now. But at this rate, the storm will get worse, quickly. It's starting to feel like daggers against my exposed skin. I have decided to scout the area for better shelter. I heard of an old hunting shack not too far from here. I will grab my things and head out. Haza! I had made it to the small log cabin. The visibility was very low, and by the time I got to the shack,

the last bit of day had creeped below the horizon, leaving me in the dark and cold of the foreign forest. That's wrong. It's not foreign. I have passed through here numerous times and had never actually stopped and camped out here, because I've never caught anything except for a few small rodents in this region. It's just here. It's hard to explain. The aura is different. The snow had already piled high against the cabin, making me have to dig to get into the darn thing. When I entered, the cold entered my lungs. The stillness of the cabin was eerie, as if it had not been touched in years.

Outside, the wind howled like a madman banging against the outer walls of the cabin, but on the inside, it was complete and utter silence. The interior of this cabin has a small wooden cot pushed in the corner in the fireplace. In the middle of the room was a tiny table and two chairs, Everything in the room had a thick layer of dust, leaving me to believe the old tenants had left a few years,

maybe a decade ago. I unpacked my bags, made my bed, and started a fire to warm up the place. Surprisingly, there was unused wood in the fireplace, as if the cabin was expecting me. I skinned and gutted the hair, putting the remains outside to potentially attract larger, more expensive prey.

I placed the skin of the hair outside under the skin of the hair outside under the snow to freeze, marking it with a cedar branch so that it would be easier to carry out when I depart from this cabin. I place the meat of the animal on the fire to cook while I rest. I sit here writing this, waiting for my hair to cook. It's very late, or at least I'm getting very tired. In this moment, I have nothing else to do, but get a bit of shut-eye. I will retire to bed for now and will continue riding at dawn. It is in the middle of the night. I awoke with a great shock in my lungs. The fireplace had gone out for what seemed like hours because the cabin was glacial. I could see my own breath and my skin stung to the touch. I got up, relit the fire,

and continued to cook the hair on the fireplace. I checked outside and it was still dark from what I could see. The only noise in that cabin was my own labored breath and the drone included. crackle of the fire. I sit here writing this as the cabin warms up. I don't even know who would be reading this. If you are, do you find this amusing? I have not much to say for right now. I'll sit here, staring at the blank pages. If I were not a hunter, I suppose I could have worked my penmanship and become a writer. That would be the life, wouldn't it? The cabin is warm now and my eyelids are getting heavy. I will get some shut-eye for now,

since it is still black out, and my bait has not been taken yet. December 29th, 1792. I awoke again, this time at dawn. The storm has subsided, although not completely. The snow has piled high against the sides of the cottage, but it seems as though the door is sheltered enough for me to get out. The windows are frosted over,

Lucky for me, the wind isn't as strong as it was last night, and as I write this, the snow is calming down. Outside is perfect hunting conditions. I hope I catch something more this afternoon. I glanced outside and saw the bait was gone, and whatever took it, left large tracks leading into the forest. I have decided I shall grab my gun and head out. I hope I can catch whatever animal that was

before it travels a length too great for me to follow. I am desperately hoping that the storm, which chase me here, will not return. I hope to return to this cabin. If I do not, then one of three things happened. The storm returned, and this time I was not so lucky and could not evade the howling winds and the needle-like snow. I found the animal I'm about to track, but was not successful in conquering the beast. Or, when out in the forest, I was not able to find my way back to the cabin. In all but one scenario, I am gone.

So let's hope none of those options have happened. For now, I say goodbye, Reader, whomever you are, and I hope to write again. Oh, dear God, oh, what my eyes have seen in this terrible forest are enough to cripple even the strongest of men's sanity. Let me start from the beginning, in as much agonizing detail as I can bring myself to write.

After my last entry, I grabbed my gun and went outside to check the scene. The snow was packed and easy to walk on, which was to my advantage. I was shocked that not only the remains of the hair were gone, but also the skin I had placed strategically in the snow, had been dug up. I found this rather weird since I had placed it, so it was rather hard to reach. The beast, or beasts, had left deep gashes in the snow, and the tracks in the snow were by far the oddest thing about it,

It seemed as though ten or more animals passed by this very area. I could identify deer, bear, and wolf tracks for sure. The prince never overlapped. They all followed the exact same route as the others. It was not odd having animals pass by at night and check out the scene, especially since I had left out animal entrails, but having this many of them was incredibly abnormal, especially in this region.

I followed the tracks into the fours, I contemplated turning around and headed back to the cabin, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I proceeded further into the forest. In that part of the forest, it was very different. I cannot quite describe it. The trees seem longer in a sense, more foreboding. The dark green spruce trees were spindly and twisted, looming over my head with a sense of indescribable evil. The air in that region was dense, making it hard to breathe, as though I was breathing in water. Before, I used to hear winter birds like crows and ravens, but here, there was nothing, nothing at all but the light howl of the wind as it passed through the tree branches. The whole scene was ghastly. Here, the sky was

darker, or the snow was reflecting light in a different way. I noticed large gashes in the surrounding trees and small droplets of blood on freshly fallen snow. About 30 minutes away, in a small snowed in grotto, under the open sky was a large creature making seismic movements with its arms. The creature was hunched over, its back facing me, and most likely concentrating on what it was doing with its hands. I creeped forward to get a better look at what this creature was and what it was doing. The thing was unnaturally gaunt. As I got closer, I made a noise. I cannot quite recall what it was now.

It might have been a twig snapping. The horrible creature snapped its head around violently, creating the snap and pop of bones, but didn't seem to care. It saw me. What I witnessed there still makes my stomach churn. The creature was about ten feet, maybe more since it was hunched over.

It had multiple animal parts sewn into it. There was Wolverine and rabbit limbs protruding out of its side. with dry blood kicking to it. The hide of the limbs of many animals had been sewn into it with a black thread. It was sacking off the ancient beast's bones. The monster had limbs of varying sizes under the fake flesh which I presume to be organs.

The beast was wearing the appendages as if it were a shell, like a hermit crab. As I reread through my notes, I realized I cannot begin to describe the sheer horror of the thing. It had animal heads, rotting and blacken, with frost. The head of the creature was the head of a young buck. The face of an old wolf was sewn on the left side and the face of a bear on the right. The eyes of the buck were sunken in and glazed over. The eyes of the thing were milky white with disease. On the head of the buck,

the antlers of a moose and deer were butched together with thread and dried blood. There was an opening where I could see that it was in the process of sewing the hair that I had caught onto its body. The creature's anatomy was something I had never seen before, a torso way too long with too many limbs, arms long and shoulders sagging, touching the snow. I could not see the lower portion of its legs, but from what I could make out, it was the legs of that poor buck. The creature let out a guttural shriek, striking me with the most foul stench of decay. I could see inside of the gaping mouth and saw nothing. Its mouth was empty. but I knew that behind the hollow emptiness there was something horrifying, something I didn't want to see.

It stood up, even from a distance, I could see it towering over me. Spit, mixed with small droplets of blood, poured out of its mouth, hitting the snow and staining it yellow with rot. As it lifted its body out of the snow, I could see the horrible claws that made those marks in the snow and trees. They were bony, darkened hands of a humanoid being. No, not humanoid, not even that. It was a parody of a human, as if it tried to replicate a human figure but failed horribly. Its fingers were too long, maybe four times longer than mine, and you could see every bone from afar. The skin on its hands was dark from the frost of years of existence.

Its torso was long, too long. It made up most of the beast's figure. I was stuck in fear and had no control over my body. As soon as I regained control, though, I shot my gun at it, stumbling around because of the recoil of the old rifle. The beast fell with such a violent force. As it got up, and I saw crimson leaking out of it onto the snow, it had the internals of various different shapes and sizes in it. Most were of that of small rodents. It howled.

I couldn't tell if it was from pain or anger, but it howled louder than anything I had ever heard from anything before. It put its vile hand over the open wound to hold back the gore. It bent over and started to pick itself together with handfuls. As it was distracted, I sprinted away for the cabin. When I reached it, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and daylight was limited. My lungs were burning, and my lakes could barely hold their own weight. I got into the cabin, and here I am now. It has gotten too dark for me to leave the cabin, so I will stay here for one more night.

I can only hope it doesn't come for me tonight. I have not started a fire and fear that it will make it easier for the beast to track me down. I am riding this by the light of a very small lantern that admits a fair amount of heat. I pray to the Lord that it does not find me. I will keep this lantern on tonight to keep me warm. Good night. It's currently the middle of the night. I have awoken with a strange sense in my gut,

almost like having butterflies, but instead of a nervous fluttering, it's more like wasps stinging my stomach and buzzing violently inside me. I cannot tell if it's purely anxiety mixed with sleep deprivation, or if I truly am ill. My eyes are playing tricks on me. I have seen tens, no, hundreds of rodents race across the floor of the cabin. I hear movement outside. The feeling in my stomach has grown into disoriented nausea, and I feel as though I will faint. Beads of cold sweat have gathered on my forehead, keeping me awake. The room is different. I cannot tell how, but it just is, almost as if everything in the room was moved by half an inch. If anyone is reading this and believes I am but a madman, I am not. I know what I am seeing, and I know it is true,

The rodents are now crawling all over the walls The flame of the lantern is dying out But I have no clue what to do I feel a pounding in the back of my head As though the rodents are crawling and gnawing at my brain Through the white noise that the scurrying is producing I can hear no feel something pulling me outside A force stronger than man itself can conceive

Almost like a serene song pulling a young sailor out to sea I will go check. I feel the only thing keeping me sane and focused is this journal. I'm back and I must describe what has happened to me. I lifted myself off the bed and stood up, nearly vomiting. My leg shook under the weight of my own feeble body. I directed myself to the door, my head pulsing with the sound of the rodents. They scurried under my feet, forcing me to hold onto the wall.

I staggered to the cabin door. and opened it. I was suddenly sobered with what I saw. Hundreds of eyes staring at me, and in the middle of them all, I saw the grotesque silhouette of the beast illuminated by the light of the full moon. The animals were just staring at me with such a fury I had never seen in my life. I have never been much of a religious man at all, but in that moment, I wondered if there was a god above. If this was a way of repayment for killing his creatures, his children, The beast was silent, all of the animals were. I retreated slowly and tripped over the mice and rats that were racing toward the beast.

What I saw will forever haunt my nightmares. The moon shone down on a part of the beast that I had never seen before. A human head was sewn under the side of the beast. The man's face forever frozen in expression of dread. I made the realization then, the hands of the beast, ancient human that had been mummified by the frost and wrapped around its own skeletal hands. My body trembled with a hollow ache. I was so disoriented, so scared, yet I felt something, a quiet sense of calm.

It started at the back of my head and grew as I got closer to the beast. Then the beast opened its mouth and howled, but instead of making me recoil in fear and disgust, it was enchanting. The whole scene was so beautiful. No words in the human language can begin to describe the beauty. Blood dripped from its mouth as it chanted its song. I ran inside tripping over the rodents that now poured out of the cabin like a raging river, shutting the door behind me and dropping to my knees with tears streaming down my cheeks.

The creature continued its chant. Blood started to drip from my ears, pooling around my fingertips, for I was not crying because of the amount of pain I was in. It was because of the beauty I had just witnessed. I gathered my composure and crawled to the table. I sit here now, writing what I think will be the last thing I ever write. My fate is sealed, and I know that. I do not fret the end of my life.

In fact, I desire it. I will repent from my sins. The beast is my lord. And I know it is here to make me join its army. I regret the loss of life I have caused in my complete and utter character. I will follow its voice and become one with it. It will save me. It will forgive me. The air of the cabin feels like acid in my lungs, and it's getting harder to breathe. The rodents are starting to break down the cabin door and have already broken through the window.

It's waiting for me, the creature of many skins. God, I will repent. Goodbye. As you can see, after reading that, we all got free to see. we all got freaked out. Of course, being a skeptic I am, I first thought it could be some stupid guys that had decided to play a sick prank on whoever read the journal. But that's just impossible. The book itself was too old, too brittle. It looks so genuine. And I guess that's what made it even more unnerving. There was no name anywhere on the journal. Believe me, we triple-checked, so we could not identify the man in this journal. This journal was all All the proof my friends needed to be convinced it was real. All of it. I wanted to leave, but my friends kept pushing to look through the cabin, and I didn't feel like trekking through the woods alone.

Pushed to the side of the cabin was a cot with blankets on it. Moths had gotten to the blankets and chewed them up. In the cot was a rat's nest that had long since been vacant. Under the bed was a bag made from unidentifiable material because of age. thrown violently at the wall was the smashed and rusted remains of a lantern. This was no doubt where the hunter had stayed during the harsh winter of 1792. Of course, everything in the cabin was distorted with age, but that was expected. Finally, I convinced my friends that we had seen enough and that it was getting dark out.

We left the cabin, Astrid cradling the lantern remains, Eric carrying the notebook, Daniel carrying the drinks and chips, and me holding the hunter's journal. The sky was getting dark and the temperature was dropping quickly. I was falling behind my group as they chattered ahead of me. I turned around to face the cabin one last time and saw, hunched over, the large figure of a creature with large antlers and many faces, its hands dragging against the ground. I turned as white as a ghost and ran to my friends, screaming at them to run.

In retrospect, that was the worst thing I could have done, but the fear mixed with adrenaline made me act upon my stupid impulses. We all bolted for home. Luckily, we got there. It's now the wee hours of the morning. I have stayed up all night. I keep glancing over the hunter's journal. My head is pounding and my heart is racing because, outside,

at the forest's edge facing the window of my room, is the silhouette of the thing I had glanced at once in the forest. Writing this is keeping me distracted for the meantime, but I've already seen a few rats scurry out from under my bed. It's calling me. It's calling me to be one with it. I don't know if I'll be able to make it so. If you're reading this, I want you to know

there is something in the woods. I am writing this as a complete and total recount of the events I experienced on Sillian Mountain almost three months ago, so I can have my facts straight if the police decide to listen to me. No, when they decide to listen to me. They have to, because I'm terrified of what will happen if they don't. I know I already lost my friend Ethan, and I'm afraid that whatever that thing was may get more people. I've already tried to contact the local authorities, the news, hell, even. the local wildlife conservation group to see if they know anything,

but I've either been laughed away or thrown out for wasting their time. So this document is a way for me to gather my thoughts, but also as a warning. At this point, I think I have to be the one to do something about this, and in case I don't make it back and things get worse, I want someone to be brought up to speed. My name is Ned Harris. I have dark hair.

brown eyes, missing the tip of my pinky on my right hand, and a small scar on my left cheek. If you read this and later see me casually walking on the streets of Jericho, West Virginia, it means I failed. Get out while you can, and please, do not go into the woods. This nightmare came to be when my friend Ethan Lancaster and I decided to camp out on Scyllian Mountain for a week, In celebration of his recent promotion, this was going to be a first for us, but one we were more than excited for. Sillian Mountain was a notoriously difficult mountain to hike, and even more difficult to survive on. Only a handful of people ever made it to the peak and returned. More than a handful were never seen again.

This would turn most people away, but Ethan and I were avid hikers and campers. We met on a camping forum five years earlier and became close friends almost immediately due to our mutual love of the outdoors. We had been on numerous hikes through the years, varying in difficulty. But when Ethan became a general manager for the firm he worked at, we decided it was time to finally tackle the big one. After a month of planning and saving up for new gear, we found ourselves in Jericho, West Virginia. Jericho was a small, Gatlinburg-esque town that sat squarely at the bottom of Sillian. Consisting of only two roads and a population of a few hundred, it was hardly the Gatlinburg competitor that the ads lead you to believe.

It had a few attractions like bars, restaurants, museums, and most famously Sweettooth, the concerningly obese grizzly that spent her days roaming in her barren enclosure. Tourists were beginning to trickle in now that the seemingly eternal snow was beginning to melt. But for the most part, Jericho wasn't meant for tourists. It was the place where all hikers began their journey, obsidian, after purchasing all the overpriced gear at the local shops, of course. Ethan and I found a motel for the night, and we were up the next morning before sunrise so we could get a jumpstart on the three-day hike to our chosen camp spot,

which we had marked on our map. Aside from a twisted ankle and Ethan being charged by a particularly aggressive raccoon, the hike itself was uneventful. The steep, yet relatively short slopes of Sillian scared most of the ill-fit hikers away quickly, but we trekked up the 45-degree slopes with ease, having trained for this journey for months. By the second day, we only occasionally ran into other experienced hikers,

in which we would return their friendly wave and continue on our separate paths. By dusk of the second day, we arrived at our chosen camp spot. It was a small clearing that provided some legroom from the suffocating pines that speckled the landscape, and we had a small creek babbling away nearby thanks to the melting snow. We had camp set up in under an hour and began the rituals we had become accustomed to after many years of camping together. I began preparing tonight's dinner, a lovely pack of dehydrated mac and cheese, while Ethan went out to find firewood. Once I had all the cooking utensils out of their cases and set up how I liked them,

I grabbed a large pot and headed over to the creek so that we could undo the pesky, dehydrated part of our meal. The area surrounding the creek was picturesque, like something you'd see on a water bottle wrapper. The crystal clear water trickled softly down the slope, with evidence of local wildlife regularly stopping by for a quick drink. I took a moment to appreciate the scenery, taking a deep breath of cold mountain air and feeling the high that made me fall in love with hiking so many years before. I knelt by the creek bed and began to fill up the pot,

whistling softly to myself, when something made me stop. I glanced around at my surroundings, scanning the tree line behind me and the steep, rocky slope ahead of me. me. My ears strained for a sound that I hadn't heard, but my brain still warned me of. The hair in the back of my neck shot up as I quickly looked to my right, at the slopes above me. I saw nothing in the cragget peaks above, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. The once softly babbling creek now sounded like a roaring river as I stared into the rocks above, frozen to the spot with a confusing terror that seemed to come from nothing. I slowly rose my

and faced the peaks to my right. It's hard to explain, but it felt as if they were watching me, not a creature that resided in them, but the mountain itself. The skin of my scalp tightened, and my stomach churned as the chirping birds around me fell silent, as if some kind of predator had just came into view. I backed away from the creek, continuously scanning the cliffs above me. It felt as if I was staring into the eyes of an old god, asleep for millennia, that had just decided to wake up and stare directly into my soul, a force so old and eternal that my existence was a mere blip in comparison. My life, a blink and you miss it moment. I was suddenly overcome with an enormous wave of terror that would have caused me to drop the pot and sprint back home,

had it not subsided as quickly as it came. The birds began to chirp once more, and the creek's deafening roar returned to a trickle. I stood for nearly 20 minutes, unmoving. and staring at the cliff above, before eventually gaining the courage to step away from the creek and return to the camp, never taking my eyes away from what felt like an unseen assailant. A half hour later, I was back at camp, running the water through the purifier and staring off into nothing. My rapidly beating heart finally began to slow, and I began to feel silly. Look at you, Harris, jumping at mountain ghosts, I muttered to myself, chuckling at the the absurdity of my experience, but unable to shake it completely. It was like a small rat was

inside of my skull, gnawing away at my brain, no matter how hard I tried to shake it loose. I glanced at my watch and frowned. It was almost nine. Ethan had been gone for almost an hour, and it was nearly dark. It wasn't uncommon for him to take long collecting firewood, but we both agreed to be back at camp before sunset. I looked east, the drive. The drive he had gone and grabbed my flashlight, I knew he would give me crap for worrying about him, but if he had gotten lost or hurt, it would be near impossible to find him in total darkness. I clicked the button, and a beam of light illuminated the woods ahead of me, casting the trees and rocks with a harsh white light and everything outside the circle to be shrouded in darkness.

I took a deep breath and ventured into the woods. Ethan? I called out. Following the tracks, he left in the miller. melting snow. It's almost dark. You should head back. The only response I got was that of crickets beginning to chirp. I swallowed, gripped the flashlight tighter, and pushed on. Come on, man, seriously, let's get back to camp. I passed the beam from tree to tree. My nerves causing me to jump as I expected to see some twisted face peering from behind the trunks, but never seeing anything.

I eventually lost his trail as he seemed to turn and ascend upwards. I turned and pointed my flashlight past the trees, and my heart jumped. The same peaks as before loomed over me, staring down with a smug stoicism that seemed to say, welcome back. My hand trembled, causing the light to dance across the rocks above me. That feeling of existential terror washed over me once more, crashing into my mind with such a force that I immediately turned and ran, not as a man who made a decision, but a as a mindless animal relying on instinct to save it from imminent danger. I crashed through the woods, crying out as sharp stick seemed to clawed my face and arms. I felt the distinct presence of something

behind me, an immense invisible force that was bearing down on me like a thundering avalanche, closing the distance between us faster than I was closing the distance between me and the camp. I picked up the speed, pumping my legs as fast as I could, and ignoring the stinging pain as the branches raked against me. I half panted and half sobbed as I exploded through the brush and fell into the clearing, going into the fetal position and waiting for an attack that never came. After a moment, I peered through my fingers, watching the gently rustling branches in front of me, as everything beyond them was now cast in total darkness from the setting sun. I took a deep breath and rose to my hands and knees, desperately trying to slow my heart rate before I either collapsed or vomited.

Once I felt like I wasn't going to pass out anymore, I rose to my feet, backed away from the woods I had just escaped from, and turned back to camp. Ethan was standing in the center of the clearing, his arms held firmly at his sides and his head lulling around lazily, as if he were drunk. Ethan, what the heck man? I panted, glancing around behind me, and, glancing around behind me, into the woods again before making my way over to him. Are you okay? I was looking for you. Ethan, what the heck man? Ethan responded, still facing away from me, I froze. His voice sounded rough, as if he suddenly aged 30 years and smoked a pack every day at the same time. Even more strange was that the inflection of his voice, how he said, was identical to how I did, almost likely

listening to a playback recording. Uh, yeah, listen, I... What is that? He suddenly screamed out, making me jump. Oh, God, please, I... He cut himself off, each word sounding more like Ethan's normal voice before mimicking a strange snapping noise,

like a broken twig or... Ethan, I said, slowly approaching him from behind. This isn't funny, man, you're scaring. me. Scaring you? He responded, swaying slightly as I approached. He sounded totally normal now, which didn't make me feel all that better. I stretched my hand towards him as he made a sound that still haunts me to this day, a noise that sounded like a mix between a click and a short

shriek and seemed almost impossible for a person to be able to make. Before I was able to touch his shoulder, he whirled around and faced me, causing me to be. to jump back and yell out in terror. He bared his teeth at me, a horrific and failed mimicry of a smile. His blonde hair was filthy and shrung over his face and eyes. My God, his eyes

were pointing in opposite directions before sliding together focusing on me. My stomach churned and my hair stood on end as those eyes seemed to stare straight through me in a gaze that I had only ever felt before, never seen. Come on, Ned.

of something I want to show you. It stammered, like it was still trying to figure out how to work its tongue. Get away from me, I squeaked out, backing away from whatever this thing was. Every animal instinct in me was screaming at once to run, to get away from this foul mimicry of life, of my friend. It isn't far, just a few hundred yards. It stammered, lurching towards me in unnatural movements as if controlled by unseen strings. I turned a run and tripped over my hiking bag, landing hard, crying out in pain as my previously twisted ankle became a sprained ankle. It is beautiful. It cried out as it descended upon me. We are beautiful. It grabbed onto my face as I grasped out in horror. The skin on its hands were rubbery, like frog skin, and it caused my own skin to crawl in an attempt to avoid

contact with this crazy thing of nature. You are not beautiful. I struggled against the Ethan thing, eventually landing a hit to its face with my elbow. It stumbled. That horrific face still froze into a false smile as it rose back to its feet and turns towards me. I jumped to my feet and ran, screaming in agony as my sprained ankle became a broken ankle. The trees around me rustled violently. The branches clawed at my face as if they were trying to slow me down. I cast a glance behind me and screamed in terror.

The Ethan thing was behind me. That false human expression unmoving as it followed me at a full sprint. Its arms plastered stiffly to its side. I ducked and dodged the branches as best as I could. Breathing so loudly that I didn't even notice that thing behind me wasn't breathing at all.

I could feel it closing in. those yellow eyes staring hungrily at the back of my head. I was done for. I couldn't outrun it, even if I didn't have a broken ankle. My legs weren't even bending. How in the... It continued gaining on me. The branches almost seemed to part for it.

Tears streamed down my face as I gasped for air, pumping my good leg as fast as I could. Closer. My head pounded from the cold mountain air. Closer. I could feel its presence right. behind me now. It emanated a scent that smelled old. Closer. Very old. Closer. Older than everything. I stumbled and began to pitch and spin down the mountain slopes, crying out as I slammed into the tree

trunks and rocks. I felt my ribs splinter and my vision went white as my head collided with a large root. I rolled off an overhang and free fell for two or three seconds before slamming into something below, causing whatever it was to scream out in surprise and anger. I swam in and out of consciousness as people crawled their way out of the tent I fell upon. Their voices sounded distant and echoed in the void I was quickly sinking into. I felt hands pat me down and assess my condition and heard the distant beeping and worried voices of someone on the phone. The last thing I saw before blacking out were the trees on the ledge I had fallen from, looming above me like ancient giants. That was almost three months ago now. I spent a few days in a hospital outside of

Jericho before being released with my injuries tended to. I immediately went to the Jericho police department and told them my story, in which I was reminded that it was strictly forbidden to have drugs of any kind on Cillian. I spent the next month trying to find someone, anyone who would believe me. I pushed my friends and family away with hysteria and was put on leave at work until I could figure my crap out. The strangest thing, no one seemed to remember Ethan. Whenever I'd bring him up, I would just get weird looks, with people saying that I had done all my camping trips solo. Even Ethan's family looked extremely concerned as they hugged their daughter and only child, afraid of the man in their living room, screaming about a son they never had.

I felt like I was losing my mind, so I decided to return to Jericho and try to set up. this once and for all. I walked the streets of the small mountain town, jumping at every noise and recoiling from anyone who walked too close. I took a swig from the bottle of Jameson I carried in a brown paper bag, the closest thing I had to a friend these days. I passed the hotel Ethan and I had stayed at, which of course didn't have him on record, and continued down Main Street toward the path that led to the mountain. I fidgeted with my hands, brushing my unkempt, unwashed hair in my face as I approached the trail, passing by a group of tourists who were listening to a trail guide. I froze. That voice. I slowly turned towards the group of middle-aged tourists, taking pictures

and listening to the tour guide standing on a large log. The man wore the ta-tale brown and green khaki outfit of a forest guide, pointing toward a map and telling corny jokes to a group as he pushed the blonde hair out of his eyes. Ethan, I rushed towards the group, shoving tourists, away from me as I pushed a path towards Ethan. Hey! I screamed, startling people around me. Ethan turned and locked eyes with me. The briefest flash of recognition in his eyes before he smiled. Hello, sir. If you'd like to join the group, you can sign up in the hut over the... I tackled him, ripping him off the stump and slamming him into the ground. The crowd gasped as I slammed my fists into his face over and over again. What are you? What did you do to my friend? I wrote.

trying to pull his hands away from his face so I could get him again. I felt a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and pull me off of Ethan roughly, sending me sprawling onto the grass. Two cops pounce on me, forcing my hands into a pair of cuffs. No, no, you don't understand. I screamed, struggling against their grip. Ethan rose to his feet and wiped his nose, smiling down at me. Go easy on him, fellas, he said, flashing a warm smile to the cops.

No harm done. Just needs to work out whatever he's on, I'm sure. I wrenched against the cops and tried to lunge at him, but they held me tight and began to drag me away. No, you don't understand what you're doing, I cried, fighting against the men. I whipped back towards Ethan, who only smiled at me. I noticed his assistant was watching me too, with an awkward-looking smile that looks like she hadn't quite mastered it yet. No, please! I yelled as I was thrown at me. into the back of a cop car, hearing Ethan's voice carry over the lot as the door slammed close. Sorry about that, folks. Some crazy people, huh? Anyway, let's get on with the hike, shall we?

I have something very beautiful I'd love to show you all.