Just Creepy: Scary Stories - BEST SCARY STORIES OF 2022 | MEGA COMPILATION, Skinwalker, Forest, Park Ranger, 22 Scary Stories!

Episode Date: December 29, 2022

These are the BEST SCARY STORIES OF 2022 | MEGA COMPILATION, Skinwalker, Forest, Park Ranger, 22 Scary Stories! Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ► shorturl.at/vX157 ► shorturl.at/pFKLV ► shorturl.at/glnpR ► https://tinyurl.com/yckscmzk► https://tinyurl.com/34xydsnb► https://www.youtube.com/@dark_night_tales/featured► https://bit.ly/3uVyAQD►https://www.reddit.com/user/thedreadfiles/►https://www.reddit.com/user/TedDalton/►https://www.reddit.com/user/salami6669/►Anonymous ►https://www.reddit.com/user/FreneticCenotaph/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Trash_Panda-1/►https://www.reddit.com/user/thegeneralg/►https://www.reddit.com/user/OldConstruct/►https://www.reddit.com/user/ReturnoftheOld/ Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Free HD Stock-Footage and Motion Graphics by CyberWebFX ►https://www.youtube.com/c/CyberWebFX Business inquiries:  ►[e-mail]  #scarystories #skinwalker #justcreepy

You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your ocean front room. Just steps from the water.

The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. What they did to your family, you're lucky to make it out alive. Streaming on Peacock.

These men are going to come after me. Taking them out. It's my only chance. Put a bullet in her head. From the co-creator of Ozark. Looks like a family was running drugs. Execution style killing it's rare for the keys. And it leads on who they might have been running for.

The cartel killed my family. I'm going to kill them. All of them. MIA. Streaming now. Only on Peacock. The following journal. excerpt was discovered by a surveyor for the U.S. Forest Service. If you have any information that may

identify or locate the missing person in the case, please contact local or federal authorities. March 17, 2022. I started hiking and backpacking with my father when I was around 12 years old. My mom passed away giving birth to me, so my dad was the only parent I ever knew. He did his best to try to keep me interested in things that typical little girls enjoy, but I never took to them. During the day, he worked as a store manager for an agricultural supply company, but on the nights and weekends, he worked on our small farm. He raised livestock to make additional income, as well as planted a few acres of corn. While this took up the majority of his day, he was careful to include me to make father-daughter time, feeding cattle, mending fences, harvesting corn,

and running the tractors became our evening routines. Over the years, our little farm prospered and grew. Dad was able to hire some additional hands which freed him up for more leisure activity. I can still remember our first hiking trip. Dad surprised me with a new hiking pack and pair of boots. My eyes sparkled as he told me we'd be spending the entire weekend hiking and camping on a local trail. With how hard he worked, we had never had the time to take a trip of any kind that I could remember. A few scattered visits to family members in other states, but nothing like this.

This was an adventure. He made me wear the boots while we worked on the farm that week to break them in. My mind raced with the possibilities. We had slept in the tent in the backyard dozens of times, but never in the woods. Thoughts of spotting wildlife, setting up camp, and the smell of eggs frying over an open fire filled every vacant moment of my day. And that's exactly how it went. It was magical.

We spent three days hiking beside a rushing stream, sleeping under the stars, and cooking delicious meals on a beat-up iron skillet. Over the years, my tomboyish ways softened a bit, but my love for the outdoors never faded. Dad and I went hiking or camping at least once a month until he passed away three years ago. I still go as often as I can.

It makes me feel close to him. Occasionally, I find myself talking to the memory him as I sit around the embers of my burning fire. Last year I started to develop an interest in ultra-light backpacking. If you're not familiar, it's essentially long-distance hiking with the least amount of gear and weight possible. If you give me something to sleep in, something to sleep under, and something to cook with, I can live in the woods for weeks at a time. I still carry dehydrated food and water ration with me, but otherwise it's bare essentials. Three meals a day, and enough water for two will get me started.

The planning process always involves finding trails with available water sources. Boiling and bottling keep down on the amount of weight that I have to carry. My foraging skills are improving, but they aren't up to self-sustaining level quite yet. My work as a freelance writer lets me stay out on the trails longer than a traditional job,

which has been a blessing. So, as long as I make it back to the old farmhouse five or six days a month, I can do enough work to keep the bills paid. Otherwise, you'll find me in the forest. I've been on the trail for four days now. This time, I'm planning to stay out a bit longer than usual. Typically, I aim for five days, but ten is my target for this trip. I'm on a trail in the Appalachian Mountain Range and heading toward a waterfall that some backpacking blogs recommended. It should only take another day to reach, so I'll enjoy two days there before heading back. Time to set up camp for the evening. Lorry. March 18th, 2022. So, I still haven't

found the waterfall. I followed the maps I printed off before heading out. The first few days, everything looked exactly as it was described. But this afternoon, the directions didn't seem to match up. I was supposed to cross a wooden footbridge earlier this afternoon, but when I reached the stream, there was no bridge to be seen. I thought about trying to wade through, but I still can't tell how deep the water is and the stream is wider than I had anticipated. Seems like a bad plan, being out here by myself. If I get swept off or bogged down, I'm in trouble. Cell service hasn't been much of a help.

After a few attempts to look at my whereabouts on Google Maps, I've given up. There is a bar of service, but the loading wheel spins like a tire going down the hill and the map never loads. I wasted a lot of time by hiking back and forth on the side of the stream looking for the bridge. Maybe it washed away. Some of those posts were from two or three years ago. The trail itself doesn't seem to receive much maintenance either. I'll give it another day of looking, but I'll need to head back soon. Food will start running low, and there hasn't been much to forage or gather.

I'm bummed out, but it happens. If I don't find the falls this time, I'll go. give it another try in a month or two. I'm feeling a little bit winded from all of the searching today, and it's getting dark. Better set up camp. Better days ahead. Lorry. P.S. Setting up camp was quicker than usual tonight. I ended up stumbling into an abandoned camping spot. At first, I thought someone was still there. After a closer inspection, it's obvious someone left a lot of gear behind. Two dry rotting shirts hanging from a tree branch. A sleeping bag filled with dead leaves and animal droppings

still sits by the stone fire ring. The fire ring came in handy. I usually have to set up one myself, but someone took care of that for me. There are even enough dried logs piled up to keep me from having to gather my own. But I'm still a little irritated that someone dumped their gear and bailed.

Stuff like that was getting more common these days. It's a great way to mess up natural habitat. like the world isn't full of enough garbage. March 19th, 2002. I didn't sleep well last night. It started to rain around 12 a.m. And I had only set up the sleeping hammock for the evening. The weather report before I sat out showed clear skies and no precipitation.

So I hadn't tied a tarp overhead. Dad wouldn't have been that lazy. I should have listened to him. There was a lot of noise in the woods as well. A few breaking tree branches and rustling leaves. The wind didn't seem that bad, but I guess it was enough to cause some of the old tree bows to give way and rattle on the forest floor. Some of the noises sounded almost rhythmic, though. There was a handful of times I thought I heard a distinct rustling of footsteps in the leaves, but my mind must have been playing tricks on me.

I even pulled out my night vision trail cam and scanned the area surrounding my camp. I didn't see a thing though, other than trees, of course. Most of the animals in this forest bed down during the rain anyway. Not to say something couldn't have snuck away from its den for a midnight snack, but it wasn't a good night to be out and about. I should know it took me nearly half an hour to secure a tarp over my hammock before I could get back to my waterlogged sleeping bag. My sleeping bag is still soaked.

Hope it dries out before bed tonight. I'm not hopeful. On a high note, I found the bridge today. Looks like I decided to walk in the wrong direction. I walked about a half a mile past the point where I had originally run into the stream, and there it was, in all of its wobbly, splinter-filled glory. It wasn't much more than some crudely nailed plank

supported by some logs settled into the stream bed, but it held up for me to cross it. I still can't decide if I'm going to try to make it to the falls this trip or not. It's a long way to go, and I already lost lots of time. If I don't hit the falls by afternoon tomorrow, I'll turn back. Don't want to get stuck out here without any food. Hoping for a dry night of sleep. Lori

March 22nd, 2022. What the hell is going on? Two days ago, I turned on my phone to look through some pictures from the hike so far, and it was filled with photos I had never taken. I spent another day trying to hide. I'd just a hike toward the waterfall before I saw them. There were more than 40 pictures of me sleeping from various angles. I always sleep with the netting of the hammock zipped,

but some of the pictures are of me with the zipper open. The dates on the pictures start on March 16th. Someone had been following me almost the entire time. A video on my phone from last night even shows someone taking dehydrated food from my pack and dumping them on the ground, brown work boots grinding the food into the ground. You can hear them breathing like a marathon runner the entire time. The last pitcher was the worst. Whoever took the pitcher was holding a hunting knife inches from me.

I've been traveling for a day and a half with no sleep. When I found the pictures, I grabbed my pack and left my hammock and sleeping bag. I know I should have grabbed it, but I panicked and didn't want to stick around for another minute. Some nutcase in the woods is following me, and I'm at least three days from making it back to my car on the trailhead. That is, if I don't stop to rest. I told myself at first I would just walk non-stop until I got back, but I'm already exhausted.

I've got to get some rest. Maybe I've lost them. To make matters worse, that crappy little wooden bridge was gone when I got back to the stream. I know I was in the right place because the log pilings in the stream are still poking out of the water. I'm going to have to swim or wait across. I hope I make it. What other option do I have? God help me.

Lorry March 23rd, 2022. Crossing the stream didn't go well. I tried to toss my pack to the other side, but it landed two feet shy and splashed into the moving water. I couldn't afford to lose the last bit of food I had, so I dove in and swam after it. The effort was more energy than I should have expended,

but my options are running out. It's getting dark and I'm still at least a day away from my car All of my clothes are wet and there is only enough food left in my pack for one more meal I'm going to make it tonight and try to get a little bit of sleep My phone is still out of service and I haven't been able to reach anyone for help I'm afraid I'm going to die here I'm scared I just want to go home I want my dad

I think I just saw a camera flash go off in the woodline If anyone finds this, please tell. The author of this journal is still unidentified. Have you ever heard of the Black Hill Forest? If you didn't, I can't really blame you. The aforementioned forest is rather obscure, but we're getting off subject. My background isn't of importance, nor is my name.

However, what I can tell you is what I know about the Black Hill Forest. What it truly is, It's been 20 years since I found my way into the Black Hill Forest, 20 years since I saw things a person wasn't supposed to lay their eyes on, beheld beings best left unknown, and witnessed events even now I can barely comprehend and understand. This is the story of a 10-year-old boy who ventured into the Black Hill Forest. Not much is known about the forest, as many of the maps simply mark the forest as forbidden,

and the grown-ups refused to tell me why none of a of us. could go there, citing, I'll tell you when you get older. The whole town seemed to be wary and fearful of the forest. In the winter, when the first snow starts to fall, and the trees have completely lost their leaves, the forest would resemble spikes, warning us to stay away. It didn't help that the closer you got to the forest, the more blackened and charred the ground seemed to become. It was a cloudy day as far as I can recall, and it had been snowing. The day started out as it always did when I was younger. I ate breakfast and got ready for another day of school. The school bus route was strange, to say the least. At one point, on its journey, it would get

really close to the Black Hill Forest. I'm not even sure why it moved along this path, but it always did without fail. And we would be within spitting distance to the forest every time we went to and from school, and I could glance into the areas between the spiked trees. That fateful day, as our bus moved along its unchanging path near the Black Hill Forest. As I stared out the window, pointed toward the forest, the bus suddenly collided with something. I barely caught a glimpse of the thing when it let out a shriek. The thing was alive, and it was angry.

I can still hear the sounds of the metal buckling and bending and the frightened screams of my peers as the dark thing began to smash the bus in anger. I could only get a few glimpses of the thing. its yellow eyes and deer-like appendages before something impacted my head knocking me out. I woke up after who knows how long, inside what remained of the bus. The front half of it had been smashed. The remaining half was badly damaged. There was no one else in the wreckage,

but I visibly saw what I can only assume to have been blood on the floor. I was unharmed, no injuries, no cuts, no broken limbs. I was just fine. I don't know how I survived whatever it was, but I got up and grabbed what I could and slowly exited the bus. The first thing I noticed when I left the wreckage was the ground. I could see beneath the thin layer of snow, the blackened ground. And then I saw the trees, those familiar spike-like trees. That thing, whatever it was, dragged part of the bus into the forest.

If that thing wrecked the bus with such ease, what else could be hidden amongst the spike-like trees? trees. My mind raced, thinking of the countless possibilities of what might lie within the forest. I knew I had to leave, so I started to try to get my bearings. In one direction, the bus wreckage, in another, a clearing among the trees. And in a third one, I saw what looked like a creek. I walked, the gentle snow sloshing and slurring underneath my feet. With each step, the snow piled on, the air grew colder. Nature did. Nature did it. not seem to care much for my situation, and the snow continued to fall. But I continued, wandering forward in a single direction, hoping that perhaps I could leave

the forest, but no matter how much I walked, I could not see the edge at the forest. Its stillness was baffling, the emptiness, the lack of any life, the isolation and nothing aside from the spike-like trees. As I walked through the forest, I realized what the forest was, unnervingly quiet. Not a single noise emanated from anywhere. The silence only broken by my own breath and steps on the powdered snow. The spell of simply wandering through the cold was broken when I discovered a cave. Cold and exhausted, I moved into the entrance. As I walked through the rocky formation, the damp, warm air of the cave welcomed me. The darkness compared to the starch white landscape

of snow outside was strangely welcoming. I sat down. I sat down. down on the rocky stones below me and rest my head against the wall, exhausted. As my eyelids adjusted to the darkness, I saw something on the cave walls, a wall painting. The painting looked a lot like cave paintings from ages past, but it seemed, well, different. Instead of the red and orange and black color that most cave paintings had, these had only black. This one depicted not Hunts or some long-forgotten tribe, but instead the forest itself. The spike trees, the blackened ground, things that the longer I stared at, the more I got lost in their seemingly incomprehensible form. In the center of all of the paintings, nothing, just a sheer indescribable mass of darkness,

and from it all manner of beasts seem to emerge. The painting seemed to ramble on, as if ancient artists were trying to put disjointed memories together and paint them down. The beasts being peaceful in the next section, rage. Humanoid beings emerged to seal away the darkness, or gods arising to reconcile with the darkness, and then nothing. The painting abruptly cut off on a final image of darkness and thousands of yellow eyes. As my mind was lost in the painting's majesty,

I heard a rumble emanating from deeper in the cave. Then, yellow eyes peered out of the darkness. I couldn't make out its form, but it was big as the cave itself. I saw dark red, fluid-like liquid starting to form on the cave floor. It smelled of decay. I looked around. The thing's eyes fixed on to me as I was struck with fear. It let out an inhuman roar,

almost identical to the roar I heard when the school bus crashed into that thing. Then I heard screams, but it sounded distorted, almost like it was mimicking dozens of the screams from the bus crash. The shadows started to almost dance as the thing started to move towards me. Without a second thought, I ran out of the cave, my tired legs nearly tripping on the uneven floor. As the snow sloshed under me, I turned back to the opening of the cave. I saw the thing, dragging itself out of the cave, before letting out another great roar that shook the forest. In the sunlight, I could make out its form, and it didn't make any sense. Its body was decaying, portions of its skeletal structure visible, its skin as dark as the ground, its bones misshapen and

twisted and limbs. It was very deer-like, standing on its hind legs, all being completely worn out and beyond functionality. It was almost human. It was massive, its form casting a long shadow, It dripped a dark liquid substance that appeared as soon as it hit the ground. It shouldn't have been alive, let alone moving in such a state. No, how was that, how was it alive? I didn't wish to see any more and started running. With no sense of direction, no care for finding my way out, just getting away from that thing. I heard a deep, blaring roar loud enough to shatter glass.

I recoiled in pain. my hands instinctively reaching for my ears. I turned behind me to see that thing dragging itself towards me. I heard trees falling down and crashing under the ground as I heard thundering steps of the beast. It's deafening, lonely roars as it chased after me. What was that? I cried at the top of my lungs as I ran between the mighty spiked trees.

The beast knocked down the trees like they were nothing. Their grand tall structures crashing under the ground with a great force, and thundering crashes. It cut through the trees like a warm knife through butter. It didn't want to give up the chase, the hunt for me. It wanted me. The trees seemed to narrow in and blend in as if trying to slow me down, as the beast kept its pace behind me, no matter how fast I ran. The quiet, constantly broken by the beasts, roars, and my ever-tired gasps for air as it followed me. As I ran through the endless forest, I noticed that there was a little. less and less snow on the ground and more of the blackened ground revealed itself to me,

until any trace of snow was gone, and all that was beneath me was black soil. The thing still followed. As I ran, I saw others like me. Some look to be lumberjacks, others looked to be cartographers, people who got thrown into the forest, they just had their pale white bones lying perfectly on the ground, resting against trees. As I looked back, the beast again slashed its great limbs and another several trees were fallen. Its yellow eyes forever fixed on me. Its decaying form carrying nothing more than to take me. It dripped that same black liquid and produced the ever-familiar blaring roar. My leg started to give, and I felt as if I needed to collapse. I now began to see ornaments made of spiked tree branches, dangling from the trees.

They displayed images that I could not put into words. And on the ground, effigies of creatures, beings, and charred remains of what I could only assume was a ritual. I kept running. Emerging from the blackened ground, I saw something I never expected to grow in such an empty wasteland. A pale, white rose, a sign of innocence in such a barren black wasteland. Up ahead, I saw countless more roses. their pale white glow in the stark contrast to the blackened ground and spiked trees, densely collected around a massive frozen lake.

Hesitant, I looked behind me, only to see the beast a couple hundred yards from me, and without a second thought, I ran onto the ice. I was lucky the ice was capable of holding my weight as I ran across, almost slipping on the ice several times. I then noticed that the beast wasn't following me. its thundering steps went silent and i turned around expecting it to be in spitting distance but it was standing by the frozen lake it stared at me its yellow eyes staring at me never taking its gaze off of me it didn't even try to step on the ice its limbs refused to move forward i took this as an opportunity to take a breather and i collapsed my hands resting on my knees then i noticed something in the center of the lake, standing on a small island. On it, a single tree. Not like the others in the forest rested on black charred soil. The tree was crooked, bent, twisted beyond recognition. Its branches

bent and molded in such abstract shapes. It was as if you were trying to describe a tree to a man who had never seen one. With no other place to go, I decided to cross the ice and move towards the island. As I was a few feet from the tree, the beast let out a great roar, turning back. It swung its arms wildly, as if it were trying to reach me, but it didn't dare step onto the ice and simply grabbed the cold air. As I stepped closer and closer to the island, its roars grew louder, louder and louder. But once I stepped foot on the soil of the island, it immediately went silent. It was then I noticed the stone tablet resting by the tree, reading it aloud, I uttered the words into the cold air.

In the beginning, God created heavens, the earth, the great empty. God disregarded the great empty and left it as empty as the world was before creation, before God. God has long left, but his mistake of creation still lingers. The hatred creation seeps itself into the heavens and the earth, corrupting the works of God, blackening the soil and destroying man's mind. The gateway to the great empty is here, beneath the soil, beyond the veil of reality, at the center and edge of everything, and at times end and beginning. As I read the last word off the tablet, I heard crackling above me,

and the tree that stood above me was no longer a tree. Instead of its wooden bark, it now was rotten. Its branches were now a series of small bone-like structures, and along its trunk, human eyes stared unto me. I leapt back in fear as the thing screeched with rage, and its pupils contracted. It let out another screech as it contorted its branches, and swung its rotten-like branches as if it was trying to grab me. What the?

I backed away from the tree, and then I tripped on a rock protruding from the ground, and I stumbled backwards and broke the ice I was standing on. I fell down into not freezing cold water, but pure nothing. I simply fell, fell, fell and fell as the world faded far from my view, as I fell not onto something, but into nothing. Pure nothing. Not black, nor white, just the sheer absence of either. Do you know those sensory deprivation chambers, the ones that dull your senses significantly. If you were to enter them, I've been in a couple in the past year or so,

just for curiosity's sake. They don't even compare to what the void was like. There was utter nothingness in the void, time, space. The real world seemed to just blur as my ears picked up nothing, my body unable to feel anything, and my eyes unable to detect a single photon of light. That empty, it's enough to drive a man insane. I screamed, yelled, and cried under the darkness, but no sound emanated from my mouth.

I tried to move, but my limbs wouldn't obey me, so I simply stared into the void, into the vast darkness, and I felt something had now fixed its attention unto me. Its countless eyes, its formless form, its sheer darkness, it stared at me from the the timeless, ceaseless void. I could feel it was ancient, far older than the earth, the sun, and every star, perhaps even older than the universe itself. My mind started to buckle as my fickle mind tried to cope with the sensory deprivation, and I could feel things slipping their way into my mind. I could feel them. I could feel things dancing in the void, things far greater than any star, things that snuck into the real world through cracks and reality, and things that

plagued our dreams. All their eyes, oh God, their eyes, why do they stare? Why do they not do anything and why do they hate you? Why do they stare, oh God, their yellow orbs, their ever-changing forms, the void, no sense feeling beyond eternity, beyond the heavens, beyond earth, there was nothing but me. I could hear them talking, screaming, roaring corruption. It spread across all worlds. It corrupts all. It takes all. It took the forest. It took the soil. I will be embraced by darkness, expanse. I shall be taken by the great void. I awoke outside the forest beside the bus wreckage. I stood up as my eyes adjusted to the light. I started to hear the sirens, the police, the ambulances and crying parents.

The paramedics picked me up and examined me. While I stood in shock, the eyes of the beast and the void's sheer emptiness was still echoing in my mind. It has been ten years now, and nobody knows what happened to the others who were on board that bus, and why I was the only survivor. They asked me what had happened, but I didn't think they would believe me if I told them, so they simply listed it as a mad accident. They assumed the bus crashed and the others were taken away by wolves, and I somehow spared, the only survivor.

That is what they seem to want to believe anyway. It's been ten years now since the incident. Nobody wants to talk about it, let alone what happened. I occasionally go to the site where the crash occurred, where I constantly debate to myself whether I should go back in and see what else the forest held. maybe answer some lingering questions on what had happened on that day. Like, who were the people who came into the forest before me? What the forest was?

Or hell, jump into that lake again, to feel the absence of sense and meaning. Now, at this point, you might be wondering why I'm even telling this story at all, why I would even indulge you in something like this. It's because on my most recent visit, I noticed something odd about the charred black ground of the forest. It grew further out. Tape 1. The Road Alright, so my name is Grayson and I'm recording this for anyone that either wants to hear it, or anyone stupid enough to go into the Hagwood Forest.

Go there at your own risk. You don't want to know what's waiting for you in there. Unless you do, then listen on. I'll tell you everything that happened to me. You can choose to believe me or just brush it off, just saying. It was about two months ago. Three of my friends and I wanted to go lodging in the woods for at least a week, for a bit of downtime. Life had hit us hard the last few weeks, and we just wanted a break.

So, I decided that we should go to the Hagwood Forest and stay in one of the cabins for a while. They loved the idea, and said that they would start getting ready the same day. After about two days, we were ready for the trip. Now if you're listening to this, then that means you either know how to get there, and how weird the drive here is, or you just found this on the internet. Just outside Johnsonville, Tennessee, down week drive for about 10 miles, then take five rights, two lefts, and you're there. I recorded the whole experience, so you'll hear some of the videos in the back while I'm talking.

I'll stop now and let the video play out. We recorded it because it was one of the few times we ever got together and wanted to remember it. But now, we just want to forget it, but we never will. It started out like normal. We pulled our stuff in the back, got in the car. I start the engine and started to drive. A little after we started, I turned on the camera. Okay, it's on.

Here we go. I said, under a heavy breath, It's good to hang out with you guys again. It feels like it's been ages. James said with lots of excitement in his voice. Yeah, it's good to be back. James said shyly. James has never been one for talking.

He's always been a bit of an introvert, but he opens up more around us, so that's good at least. I just hope we'll get to see some cool stuff while we're there, said June. June and I have been dating for about two years, and she was excited about the trip. I'm glad that she was, and it made the trip even more enjoyable. About 15 minutes later, we made it to the light outside of the weak drive and stopped. there were no cars out at this time. It was about 7.25 in the morning. I stopped the car at the light,

then I turned to tell everyone in the car. All right, are we ready? I said with much excitement. You bet we are, said Matt, laughing. Only because I was doing this for a bit of fun before we started the longish drive into the forest. After a little banter, we started our drive. Now, if you are driving to the forest from the town,

the speed limit is 45 down week drive. It would usually take about 13 minutes to travel 10 miles at 45 miles an hour. But it takes about three hours to get to the first turn. That's 10 miles away. That's the first thing that we noticed on our trip. Hey, you said the first turn was only 10 miles, right? James mentioned. Yeah, I did, I said back.

Well, it's been two hours since we left town. James responded. Everyone looked at their five. phones for the time. Holy crap, June exclaimed, recoiling backwards. Okay, I've been down this road plenty of times. It only takes about a half hour to get to the highway. I mean, how many miles away are we from the turn? Matt said with concern and confusion. 3.5 miles away. 3.5 miles away? I said, still confused all to hell. That's the thing about weak drive. It only does this when you have the intention of going to the forest. An hour later,

we made the first turn. Finally, Matt said with much relief. Okay, okay, so five rights and two lefts, right, Grayson? James said. Yes, James, five rights and two lefts, I said back. Wait, that doesn't seem possible, June said in response. How can you do that without getting back to the same road? And that's the thing about the journey. It may not make sense, but you'll get there anyway. I can't tell you how or why it happens, but it does. Now, the road that we traveled on after our first turn is 15 miles an hour. It gives you a great view outside the car windows as you drive along. Hey guys, it's five o'clock. James said with a hint of anxiety in his voice. Okay, so I guess we'll get there a lot later than anticipated. I said in a similar tone. We kept driving down the road

taking every turn that we needed and made it to the entrance of the forest. We turned into the small parking area and there was no one else in the lot. Nice, we have the whole place to ourselves. I said with more enthusiasm than I thought I had in me. We then started unloading our items from the car, clothes, bathroom stuff, and all the other things that you would need. Hey guys, I said. Yeah, James responded. Do you see that in between the trees over there? I questioned. The camera focused in on the spot. What I saw was a large dark figure in between the trees. It was about the size of half the tree it was standing next to. It was staring directly at me.

As it did, it slowly wrapped one of its arms around the tree and opened its hand to expose seven long, sharp fingers. The rest of its body was perfectly blending in with the dark shadows of the forest. Its eyes were yellow, almost glowing slightly. But I had a feeling that they were not lights of hope. But something more sinister. That's when Matt walked up next to me. No, nothing but the shadows of the trees and the trees.

the trees themselves, he said. I looked back and it was gone. I kept a footnote on the thing I saw and went back to unloading, with the now apparent feeling that we were being watched. Tape 2. A mystery stirs. It was James who first saw my unease on our walk, the leaves on the path crunching underneath our steps. The cold breeze moved through the trees. I had been looking around randomly a bit more quickly than the others, and also allowing the camera to follow my eyes so I could capture everything. Hey man, you okay over here? He asked. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little on edge, that's all. But he could tell that I was more than that. I knew that James was very observant. He notes most things around him. As we walk down to the cabin, we take in the forest air and smell pine

an oak. Then June, who was in the front, stopped. Soon, everyone else. I walked up next to her to see what she was looking at. It was a small deer standing in the path, eating some grass, but she looked frightened. So I looked past the deer and saw what she saw. The same figure from before, everyone else saw it too. So now I know I wasn't crazy. In a small whisper I said, I told you I saw something back there. All of us were frozen, not making a single sound or movement as we watched the deer eat grass, and the thing stood a good 30 feet from the deer. We waited about a minute.

My camera pointed at the deer and the thing, in plain sight, past it. We all were about to move when the creature ran to the deer, snatched it, and ran off in the blink of an eye. It almost made no sound. all of now with looks and shock on our faces. We exhaled almost at the same time. Then we heard the scream of the deer very far off in the forest to our left. We all looked at each other. What just happened?

Matt exclaimed. Well, a dark creature from the forest took a deer deep in the woods and had a meal. June said sarcastically, with a shaky voice. Let's just get to the cabin before anything else happens, James said. Yeah, I replied. We walked down the path with no other incident. We got to the cabin and opened the door. It was a large building with four bedrooms, four bathrooms,

a good-sized kitchen with a small bar next to it. There was also a large living room in the middle with a large window making up one side of the room. Wow, this is better than I thought, said Matt. Well, I wanted us to have a good time, so I got the best, I said, a little nervous. You did well, James. said with a calming hand on the shoulder. All right, let's get unpacked. Then meet in here,

I said, trying to lighten up the mood. We all went into our separate rooms and did as I said. We all went and sat on the couches and turned on the TV for some background noise. I say we stay in the cabin for the first day and relax, Matt said. All in favor raise your hand, I said playfully. Everyone raised their hands. All right, so it's decided then. We'll stay. We'll stay. here for tomorrow. I said, I'll get us drinks, James offered as he stood. As we all talked, James walked over to the small bar and went to grab us some drinks. When all of the sudden, there was a crash of glass hitting the floor. All of us looked in James's direction to see what he had dropped, an empty shock glass on the floor, and was looking straight in the mirror. I started to stand when James says

trembling in fear. Don't. It's here. The thing that we saw, it's hiding in the room opposite the mirror. The room he is describing was the closet with some general cleaning supplies in it. We then just stayed as still as we could. It's moving. And as he said that, I saw a hand slowly come out of the closet, then the rest of its body. The thing was about 12 feet tall and towered over us. It had long legs that were about five feet tall with the body of about six feet. The neck and head made up the last foot. Its arms went so far down, the tips of its fingers were only just a few centimeters off the floor.

The thing's sharp, pointy fingers were about... The thing's sharp, pointy fingers were about a foot long. Its feet looked normal enough if it wasn't for the fact that the thing's body was darker than the night sky. I saw them the first time I saw it, but now I was sure. Its eyes were glowing yellow. It walked slowly around the room. It appeared to be examining us. None of us looked into the glowing orbs that were its eyes, but we did follow its movements.

It walked over to all of us. I wouldn't say that it was sizing us up, but more or less examining what we were. After its examination, it slowly walked back to the closet, went inside, and closed the door. After a minute, June walked over to the door and opened it. It was gone. At the same time, we all let out a breath. Okay, so what happened? Matt asked, shaking with every word. Well, I think that it was examining us, I said.

What? How can you say that? We could have been hurt, June exclaimed. If it wanted to get us, it would have done that. But it made no move to touch one of us. I merely think it was just, interested, James commented. I mean, Grayson, you said that no one had stayed in the cabin in years, right? Yeah, the only time there is someone up here is when someone comes to clean the place,

I replied. So, it's safe to assume that it was interested in the fact that there were someone here for longer than it was used to. You know, that makes sense, Matt said under breath with exhaustion. Okay, I say we all try to go to bed, then we'll talk about it in the morning. I suggested. Okay, that's fine, said June. To bed then, I replied. Tape 3, Day 1, the first move. I woke up around 8.30 to a nice bright sun and clear skies overlooking the small valley

outside the window. I didn't remember there being a valley outside the back windows, but I shook it off as nothing and went into the main area of the cabin. The main cabin area was coated in sunlight from the big window, that made the back wall. I looked over and saw that the big TV was on quietly playing the morning news. In the kitchen, June made us four cups of coffee and handed one to me. Good morning, she said with a yawn. Good morning, I said back. Didn't think we got the news out here, I said. She just shrugged and sat on one of the couches, and I sat on the countertop facing the TV.

So, have the other two come out yet? I said. They're taking showers. so they'll be out soon, she replied. After a few minutes of casual talk, James and Matt came out of their rooms. Good morning, Matt said, drying his head with a towel. Good morning, replied June, handing them cups of coffee. We all went to the couches where food was laid out. How did everyone sleep? James asked. The room was quiet for a few seconds.

Everyone looked at each other. Yeah, I actually did, Matt said, in almost a whisper. Let's not dwell on it. All we need to do today is try and relax while we're here at the cabin, and tomorrow we can go out and see some places in the forest, I said in response. They all nodded their heads, and they went to do their things around the cabin. I went and got the camera.

I walked out of the main area and turned the camera on. I looked around the room with it, and walked around the area showing off everything the cabin had to offer. A few minutes of showing off the place later, I grabbed a ladder out of the closet. I did my best to forget what happened last night, but I can't. I don't think anyone could forget that.

Why do you have a ladder? Matt asked from behind me. I was going to place a camera up here, pointed it toward one of the low-hanging beams at the far end of the cabin. I want to keep it there so it can document while we go about the day. I replied,

sounds cool. He sat back and walked off. I placed the camera on the beach. beam, climbed down, and put back the ladder. Everyone was in different parts of the house, so there was a good amount of silence. I went over to one of the couches, drink in hand, and sat down to watch some TV. I turned it on and there was static. Damn, no signal, I said, annoyed. Everyone else walked into the room right after. Damn, that sucks. No TV? James said, sitting down. That's when I noticed the sound of rushing water, almost like,

we were by a waterfall, and there were no waterfalls within a miles hike from the cabin, so it was definitely out of the ordinary. Hey, what's that noise? June questioned. Sounds like water, Matt said. I went to look outside and there was a view of a valley, but in a different spot. Hey, I remember seeing the waterfall on the other end of the valley yesterday, I said. So, James replied, I'm saying that because the same waterfall is next to the cabin now. Everyone went to look where I was looking. They all had some of the most questioning faces I'd ever seen. So, did the house move?

Or did some rocks fall? Matt questioned. That's way too large for some rocks, I replied with a bit of a chuckle. So you're saying that the forest is moving? James replied. Yes. For the rest of the day, we decided to forget about it and have a good time for today. Let's just say drinking started at about lunchtime.

For the rest of the day, we went without incident, and about nine o'clock we all went to bed. Tape 4. Day 2 and 3. The Lake After I woke up, I got the camera and turned it on. After that, I placed the camera on the bed and got my hiking bag packed, and went to meet the others in the main room. All right, is everyone ready? I said. They all in confirmation nodded their heads. Okay, let's go, I replied.

walking out the door, so where are we going, James asked, behind me. Over to that large lake in the valley, then we'll spend the night camping and returning the next morning, I said with a bit of enthusiasm. After that, we went outside and started on the path to the lake. As we walked, we took some time just to listen to the world around us, the crunch of leaves under our feet, the moving of leaves in the wind, the occasional chirp of a bird, and the rushing river nearer. It was peaceful. Around an hour of hiking later, we took a break.

We placed our bags down and sat on the edge of a calmer part of the river by a log that stretched across it. It's beautiful here, James commented. Yeah, only about another 45 minutes and we should be there, I replied. We all got up, put our backpacks on, and started walking again. The hike in total was about three miles long. It had been about five miles since our river stop when we finally know. noticed something. Some of the trees were different. As we moved, we started to notice that the trees would be in the same spot of our vision, the path going in abnormal directions, and at times

sudden dizziness, like when going fast on a roller coaster. Man, what is going on this forest? Matt complained, throwing his hands up in the air. What do you mean? asked June. Don't play it off. We have all noticed. This damn forest is changing. No, moving. What do you think of all this, James? I exclaimed. Well, the lake's right over there, he said, pointing over to the shoreline that wasn't there before. We all walked over there to the water, and sure enough, the lake was right there. At this point, we all just accepted it and unloaded our bags to set up tents in a small clearing by the water. We'd gathered sticks since it was getting dark and made a fire.

Well, tents are all set. Fire's burning and we have drinks, Matt said, holding a drink up in the air. It was fun to finally not be on edge for part of the trip. The four of us just sat there by the fire, looking at the lake, a small radio playing music quietly in the background, taking in the cool air of the night. It was peaceful. About 11 p.m. we all called it a night and went to our tents. I laid there, closing my eyes, taking in all the sounds of the forest and the lake water moving

in the wind. Then there was a snap of a branch, a loud one. Then loud, heavy footsteps started walking in the same sand near our tents. Whatever it was, it was big. I heard it walking around until it got to my tent. I heard the crunch of dirt under its feet and even the movement of its limbs. For a second I saw a glimpse of its shadow in the tent. It was the creature from before.

The only difference this time was its mouth was open. through a small clear piece of plastic in the tent, I could see it. I saw its ungodly big mouth. Four long arm-like appendages were coming out of its back, lifting it about a foot and a half off the ground. It moved slowly, observing everything. I then moved, only a little, and I guess it heard that because I was now looking right into its eyes.

The two yellow glowing eyes eclips the silhouette of the creature. As we were facing off, there was a crack of a branch in the woods. I looked over in the direction of the noise, and so did it. It crept toward the noise, then stopped. It turned back to me. I don't know why this thing had such an obsession with me over the others, but I don't want to find out. I saw it take one step and sped over my tent. At this point, I could feel its cold breath on my face. Its teeth looked sharper when up close. It had an awful stench that came from it, and just standing around it made the air feel as if it was in the negatives.

We stared at each other for what felt like forever. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Matt, June, James, and I all got out of our tents and slowly gathered by the fire and started a new one. We all sat in silence for five minutes before we finally decided to go to bed, just sitting there under the blanket of stars listening to the sounds of the nighttime forest.

It was calm enough to put anyone to sleep. We woke up around eight in the morning, to the sun rising over the mountains and birds chirping in the trees. I stood out of my tent and took in the scenery. Thankfully, I woke up in the same place this time. I thought as I walked out of the tent. I took the camera out and placed it on the spot that looked over the camp. I looked over to the shore of the lake and saw James sitting there, toes in the sand.

I walked over and sat next to him. Good morning, I said, trying to start a conversation. He stayed still. looking out over the water. You okay? Yeah, I'm fine, James replied, still looking toward the water. Why did it take interest in you? He said, turning his head to look at me.

I recoiled at the question. It took me by complete surprise. I didn't even consider that, I replied. So what was it like? I mean, being so close to it, June asked, walking up behind us. I'm interested too, Madam. exclaimed, also walking up. Well, the first thing I can think of is its eyes. They felt hollow, almost empty, but the glowing yellow of its eyes filled that. Its breath was also cold. I could

almost see frost on the tip of my nose. Now that I think of it, the air was really cold too. I said in almost a calm voice, wait, it felt cold? Matt questioned to my right. It also had teeth, sharp teeth that could possibly cut without even touching skin, but its breath also smelled like death, or as close as you could get to death. It moves fast, too. I saw it move across 50 feet in a matter of seconds, I said. Looking into the water,

damn, that's, that's, I've got nothing, James said. Well, that's in the past. We are here now, and let's enjoy the now. While we still can, Matt said, standing up. Looking back, I feel that I should have been more affected by what happened, but at the same time, I think that I was so traumatized that I didn't even process it correctly. Anyways, enough focusing on that. After our conversation, we decided to have fun and forget about what happened. All day, we took time to focus on relaxing and being one with nature, as some would say.

After our day of fun, I grabbed the camera, forgot to turn it off, and we did. We went to the tents to fall asleep with no incident for the whole day. Tape 5. Day 4. The Bunker I don't know what time I woke up, but very little light and a slight echoing noise all around me took me by surprise. The ground that the tent was on was hard and cold.

I picked the camera up and saw what was on it. Crap, need to replace the battery, only just then realizing the echo in the room. I replaced the battery and turned on the camera. I unzipped the tent and looked out. On the other side of the tent was a good-sized concrete room, with only three yellow lights shining enough light to see. The other tents were in the other room, too. Hey, wake up, I exclaimed.

I heard the tent shuffle, and everyone got out and assessed the room. Why are we in a room? Why are we in a concrete room? James said, freaking out. Hey, calm down. Let's huddle up. near the burnt wood over there. Is that a fire? June said. Yep, Matt replied. Let's sit down for a minute and gather ourselves, I said, calmingly. We all walked over to what used to be the fire and sat down.

Do you have to bring the camera? Matt said, annoyed. If we didn't have it, anyone that would come and find us would know nothing and find nothing, idiot. June said. It's the only proof we have. She was right. We had no other proof of what happened and what will happen. It was the last thing we had. We all sat around for a few minutes until James said what we all were thinking. Should we look for a door? We all nodded and went to explore what seemed to be an infinitely sized room. The fire was in the center. That's what the conclusion we made when starting. From the fire, we walked in four separate directions and counted how many steps from the fire to the wall it was. On three, we started counting.

I guess that room just stopped past where the light passed. From the fire to the edge of the light was 40 steps, and I guess the walls were about 48 steps. If only I knew. June was finished before the rest of us. 43 steps, she said with a raised voice. 47 steps, I said in the same tone. 56 steps, James said.

We waited three minutes for Matt. 530 steps, Matt exclaimed. We seemed only to hear the echo of his voice. James June and I ran back to the fire and looked toward the direction that Matt went. We looked at each other, then ran back to the black void. A minute later, we heard steps as he came into view. What's with the box? June asked. I almost fell on it.

I haven't opened it yet, but it. it's worth a look, he said, placing the box on the ground and opening it. In the box were some MREs, flashlights, and other survival gear. Well, this is expected, Matt said. I also felt a metal rectangle on the wall with a door handle. He found a door. A door, I thought. I thought about what could be on the other side.

A staircase, the outside, or a room? As I finished the thoughts, we were all packed and nodded at each other. We turned on the flashlights and started to walk. For the first minute of walking, it was just black. Then we saw the door. We stopped just before the thing. It was rusted all over and had an old dirty metal sort of smell and shook only a little now and then.

A breeze. There was wind on the other side of the door. Matt reached for the door and opened it. It groaned loudly and was hard to open due to the large amount of rust on the hinges that were now flaking off. When the door opened, we aimed our flashlights down the new dark hallway that was pressed before us. Crap, James explained. I was hoping for some stairs that let outside.

Let's go, I said, taking the lead down the hallway. We stayed silent while walking down the long dark hallway, keeping quiet out of fear to see if we could hear anything. There were doors on either side. We tried them all, and none of them would budge, not even any sign that they would move. About ten minutes later the hallway widened into a large room. We aimed our flashlights around to reveal more of the room. A light dripping sound of water hitting a puddle on the ground echoing through the room. It was longer than what our flashlights could light.

We could see two pillars holding the ceilings up and two more at the edge of the light. Hey, two of you, go to the other side of the room and shine your lights back at us, I said. Why? Matt asked. So we can see the room, duh, June set back. She and James went to the other side and placed their lights to the floor, pointing up. Matt and I did the same. The lights reflected off the walls, illuminating the room with a faint glow. We all took a minute to take in the surroundings.

Four pillars kept the ceiling from falling. Small coffee tables and chairs lined the room. Old vintage machines were placed on one of the walls. A sign above the door set bathroom. Next to the other door was another hallway. On the last wall there was a large window that looked into a room that we couldn't see, but there seemed to be a faint red glow far into the distance.

What kind of place is this? James questioned. It looks like some sort of break room, I said. And how might have you guessed that, Matt said, annoyed. The counter with a coffee machine and microwave on it and the fridge next to that, I said, pointing toward the wall with the vending machines. Oh, I guess that would make sense, he said in response. We then got some chairs and sat them in a circle in a random spot in the room and sat down.

All right, first question. What the hell is this place that we're in? Matt said. Well, I would say that we're in a bunker of some sort, James said, shivering over how cold it was. And why do you say that, Matt returned? The shapes of the rooms are too simple, and the fact that everything is made of concrete? The better question is, how did we get here? I think I might know, I replied. Remember how in the cabin when we woke up, the building was in a completely different spot? Yes, June replied. And on the walk to the lake, it took a surprisingly short time to get there, I returned. I think that

whatever happened there happened last night, or if it's still night. Have any of you tried your phones? James asked. Everyone pulled out their phone. None were turning on. Damn, out of battery, June said. We all just sat around for a while and looked at all the different things throughout the room. Everything looked normal, and everything looked pretty up to date

up until the wrapper of the candy bar sitting in one of the vending machines. The wrapper showed that it expired in 1985. 1985, older than I expected, I thought, Hey, guys, this place is older than you may think, I shouted. Why? James asked. Because the candy and the vending machine expired back in 85. What? Matt said.

Coming out of the bathroom, I then turned my attention back to the wall with the big window and walked over to it. Hey guys, so if this place existed back in 85, and if back then the U.S. was looking for ways to get the upper hand on the Soviets, and this was a bunker, could this be an observation room on the other side of this window? I said. With a hint of curiosity, everyone then looked at me. What? Matt questioned. It only makes sense, James said. But if that's the case, then we might want to get out of here because I don't want to find out what's down here. So, down the next hallway we go? June asked.

Onward, I replied. We quickly grabbed our gear and started down the hallway. This hallway felt unnatural. There was something off about it. We all could feel it. The deeper we got, the more strange things happened. After about four minutes of walking down the hallway, a strange particle started floating about. It was almost snow-like, but far colder.

On each side of the hallway, the doors started appearing. We took our time to investigate and show as much as we could on camera. Some rooms just had an operating table, a light, and a set of tools on a small table. Interrogation rooms? About seven minutes into our watch. deep fog started to set in. The air started to get hard to breathe in. What the hell happened here? June asked. I don't know, but I think our government bunker theory has been proven. James replied. We walked some more until we came to a four-way intersection of hallways. Well, isn't this perfect?

Four directions? Four people, Matt said. No, we're not splitting up, I said. That's the last thing that we need to do. We stick together. I said sternly. They recoiled back with surprise on their faces. I'm sorry, I just wanted to have a nice vacation. Hey, we'll make it through this, and afterward we'll have an interesting story to tell, James said, placing his hand on my shoulder. Now let's get out of here. The wall with the window was on the right side when facing the hallway from the room, so we went right. Down this hallway, there were larger doors that led to full-on operation rooms, cold storage rooms, and decontamination rooms. The place was a maze, a labyrinth of hallways and rooms of the same stuff.

It was more of the same until we found a stairwell, a stairwell that went down farther than we could see. We looked up and saw a sign that said, Lower Levels, Officers and Higher Ups Only. Tape 6. The Lower Levels Even they keep secrets from them, themselves, James said, looking up at the sign. What do you mean? I asked. What I mean is that even if you're allowed to work in this place, you don't really know what's going on here. We all took a

second to look around what might be down here. I shivered at the thought of going down there, but we all had been exploring for hours and there didn't seem to be any way up, so this was our only option. We looked at each other for reassurance that we all agreed and started down the stairs. The walk down was unstable. They were rusted all to hell, and some of the steps fell completely off. Most of them just fell on the stairs below, but one fell down the middle shaft and we decided to listen. We waited and waited to hear it hit the floor below, but we heard nothing. It must be so far down, the echo didn't reach us, I thought. After that, we moved more carefully. It was only after 35 minutes did we make it to the bottom. At the bottom, we found the step that fell and a door, a door with a faint red light shining

through the fog. So, there is power here, June said, anxiety filling her body. The light kept blinking on and off. An alarm, I thought. With me still taking the lead, we walked forward. More particles floating in the air started appearing, open doors on either side of the wide hallway. All of the rooms made for different experiments. What the hell were they doing down here? Matt said. Hey, I found an office over here, I exclaimed. They ran over and we entered the room. It's clean, I questioned.

I can't breathe in here, June said. Well, at least the light works, Matt said, flicking on the light. With the light on, the room revealed to be a conference room. A large table sat in the middle with 11 chairs surrounding the table. There was also a projector on the far end that faced toward a large white surface on the other wall. Stacks of paper were all over the room. Large filing cabinets lined the wall, filled with folders.

I took in a deep breath of clean air in the room and walked over to the table. The others joined me and we all sat down to rest. James reached for the folder that was laying in front of him on the table. Dark creature, James read aloud. What? Matt asked. What this folder says, James replied. He proceeded to open the file and start taking out papers, research documents, analysis papers,

official reports, and pictures. Most of the pictures and papers described what we had seen above ground. A tall, dark creature with glowing yellow eyes. We all got to James' side of the table, and he gave us each some papers. Origin unknown appears an old cave writing in native carvings. The natives referred to it as a dark creature that is not part of our natural order and does not belong here. I read aloud. From what I've read, it seems to have the abilities that we have seen, but is suspected to have more, James said.

Mine says that its blood is an extremely good energy source, and that one gallon could power New York for almost 15 years, June read. We looked over to Matt to hear what his paper said, but he seemed to be covered in fear. His eyes wide and muscles tensed up, but breathing almost calmly. Mine says that they found where it came from by looking at ancient writings in the area and found a door to another world, he said. I'll explain the rest to you. What they found behind the door was a world that was dark and cold. Dark clouds covered the sky.

A purple hue covered everything and vibrant red lightning would trace the sky at random points. dense forest and old vacant cities that had been destroyed. Large mountains surrounded the valley that the door opens to. There are more of the creatures in that place, and something else. In the reports and the pictures, it described a large towering monster that was almost as large as Everest. It had appendages that stretched outward for miles, and was as dark, maybe even darker than the creature we saw.

There wasn't much information on the creature beyond that. I grabbed the camera and I placed it at the end of the table and made sure to capture everything for proof. We decided to take as much information as possible with us. After talking, we decided that we needed to go there as soon as possible. We got our stuff and headed toward the door. That's when a loud thump came from the other side of the door. My hand stopped on the doorknob. Frozen in place, I felt small vibrations reach my hand when the creature stomped.

I slowly put my ear to the door trying not to make a sound. Through the door, I heard steps get louder and the door get colder. Within a few seconds, the doorknob felt ice cold, and frost started forming on the metal. The air became dry and we could see our breath more clearly, and the steps got louder. A muffled growl from the creature could be heard on the other side. It huffed as it took a breath. I quickly looked around the room at everyone, and as I did, the creature stomped on the ground outside, causing a vibration in the floor and the table where a pen said.

sat. It's as if time slowed down at that moment. The pen bounced up a little off the table and started rolling off until it hit the ground with a loud thud. We locked eyes and ran under the table behind anything that we could find. I went to dive under the table and slammed myself against one of the sides. At the same time, the door was thrown open and a loud thud, the creature stepped into the room. A thin layer of frost now started to cover the room. The room fell silent, so silent I could hear my heart beating. I moved as slow as I could to get the camera where I could see at least where the creature was.

Through a small sliver at the bottom of the table, I could see the ever-absorbing black legs standing in the doorway. I could hear the deep, gargling growls of the creature scanning the room. A crackling, fleshy sound filled the room, then five more limbs touched the ground and lifted the two original legs.

The new limbs slowly take steps around the room. The steps sounded more like needles being stuck into the ground, Its joints sounded like they were breaking with every joint. I go to look over to my left and see James' eye through a gap. Behind some of the cabinets, his eyes were wide with fear looking back at me. His mouth covered by his hands to not make any noise.

One of its legs stepped down onto the ground, startling both of us. James kept his eye on me. Another lake stepped down in front of us, and the creature started to bend down. The crunching sounds of it moving almost made me nauseous. Before the creature's head got down to our level, I mouthed to James. Play dead. I quickly set the camera down and made myself look limp.

I held my breath in, closed my eyes, and waited. Only from the camera do I know what happened in that moment. For me, all I could do was listen. Its head was now down at our level, its glowing eyes scanning for any movement. It first looked over in the direction of James, looking over every detail for any sign of life. It must not have seen anything because now it had its eyes on me. It slowly moves forward as if it's being cautious so as not to provoke a dangerous animal. Its eyes scanned every inch of me.

I could feel its cold breath on my face and smelled the god-awful stench coming out of the creature. It slowly started to move away, keeping its eyes locked on me. I did my very best not to move. I could feel my joints starting to hurt just by trying to stay still. Its head eventually left the underside of the table and lifted. Once I heard the cracking of its bones as it was starting its way back up, I opened my eyes and let out a long, silent breath, almost coughing due to the particles in the air.

I looked over at James, who I could see past the thing's bony legs. He looked back at me and let out a sigh of relief, then immediately breathed back in when one of the legs moved and stomped on the ground. The creature made sort of a hellish chirping noise as it explored the room, The stomps of its feet vibrated the room, shaking everything. A pencil or pen dropped on the floor. The creature stomped over to it, making a growl of disappointment once it found the item. It lost interest in the item and walked to another area of the room.

As it did, I slowly took off my bag and tried to find something, something heavy. I landed on a heavy metal water bottle. I took it out of the bag and crawled over to the edge of the table. I looked out and saw the door. The lightning peering into the room, fog filling the space. I arched my arm and tossed the bottle into the hallway. The bottle hit the wall and under the floor of the hallway, with banging the metal to concrete. The bottle made a few loud banging sounds that echoed down the hallway.

The creature snapped to look at the door and sprinted toward the table, vaulted over, and ran out of the room down the hallway with lightning speed. Its body snapping and crackling with every movement. The room shaking and a guttural, horrified. roar erupted from its mouth. The further it was, the warmer everything got. Once I knew that it was gone, I got up and closed the door slowly. Hey, it's clear, I spoke, looking around the room. James walked out first, looking around. That was smart, James said, walking up to me. Matt and June walked out from where they were hiding. Dang, that was something, Matt said, walking to me and James.

June walked up and hugged me. I patted her on the back and she let go. So what now? She asked. Now we get out of here, I said. We all fixed our packs and I placed my hand on the cold metal door handle. Here we go, I said, opening the door. When the door opened, there was silence.

Total, absolute silence. I poked my head out and looked both ways, shining my flashlight with it. The only thing that I saw were objects. floating in the air, the fog and lights blinking slowly in rhythm. I took a few steps into the hallway and signaled the others to follow. Once everyone was in the hallway, we started to walk back in the direction we were going, in the same direction as the creature. Tape 7. The Creature in the Tree We walked for who knows how long, down never-ending hallways and large rooms meant for various purposes. The dust was almost an inch thick on every surface. We found a large, and a large

barracks a few hours into the walk. I turned on the camera and started recording. There were bunk beds on either side of the room, all of them very messy. Waving the flashlight around, I went to each bed, looking at all the things that each person had. Each one had a life. Looks like they left in a hurry, June said. Well, most of them, Matt said, pointing his flashlight toward a dark stained blanket. There was also dark stains on the ground below the sheets, and a trail had left. left leading to the door on the other side of the room. The door led to the kitchen where the room had a shiny red color to it. There were dent marks in some of the cabinets and some of the utensils were missing. All of the sudden the intercombeeped on. Eerie white noise sounded faintly from the

intercom on the ceiling. I felt my stomach drop and my body turned cold. I looked toward the others and they were just as shocked as I was. I slowly walked out into the room with the beds. The slow, faint red glow of the lights outside of the room, only just making their presence known. Then, loud bellowing of hellish screams could be heard from the intercom. The horrifying sound filled the room. I fell to the floor of shock and felt fear overwhelmed me. The screams were distorted, some almost sounding reversed or gargled. The sound continued for another minute, then slowly faded back down to the white noise.

I opened my eyes slowly and sat up. I was shaking, barely able to keep the flashlight in my hand. The camera tipped over after dropping it. Facing me, I looked toward the kitchen. Matt, June, and James all looked at each other and looked at me. What the hell was that, James said, shaking out of fear. I don't know, but I think we need to get out of this room. Something tells me that we just heard where the screams of the people were in this room.

I said, trembling still. Yeah, good idea, Grayson. Let's keep moving. Matt said, standing, almost falling. I got up and walked towards the doorway. I moved my hand onto the doorknob and turned it slowly. I poked my head out to make sure everything was clear. I looked right, just fog. It was clear. I looked left, also fog, red-tinted fog, but it was clear. The intercom noise stopped when I looked like, left and everything went silent. Not a single noise or vibration. I motioned them to come along and June handed me the camera. I turned left out the door and waited for them to come out. We walked for a few minutes down the same looking hallway before a faint noise could be heard. It was muffled and

echoed past us in the other direction. It sounded almost like yelling or moaning of a whale. I still can't place it. I felt the sinking feeling return and looked toward them. Matt looked almost as pale as snow, and James' eyes were almost as wide as golf balls. I then looked at June. She had the same expression and kept going, flashlight and camera in hand. As we walked down the hallway, the noise only filled the area more and more. We walked a little more and found a turn at the end. I turned the corner and the flashlight went out, but the other flashlights were still on.

I walked back around the corner and the flashlight was turned back on. Oh crap, I said, under my breath. I look back at the others. Why did this have to be us? Matt said. What do you mean, Matt? asked June. We were just trying to have a good time and now, now we're going to be lost in this bunker concrete that we can't find an exit to. Matt said, pushing his hands to his face.

Hey, listen, we're not going to stay lost down here, I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. Let's go and get out of here, okay? I said. Okay, Matt responded, standing up. I looked toward everyone and walked back around the corner and the flashlight turned off again. All I could see in front of me was black and the occasional fading in and out of red light,

the sound coming from down the dark hall. I stayed still for a good, well, felt like an eternity until I took my first step. Then the next, and the next. The others still followed behind, all of us doing long breaths to keep as calm as we could get. All there was now was a faint red glow of a red light through the fog, the sounds of our footsteps and breaths, and the faint louder noise down the hall. We could have turned back, but there would be no point in doing so.

We don't even know where the creature is, so we continued. The more we walked, the louder the noise got. After a while, the sounds of our foot. footsteps changed. It sounded like we were stepping in some squishy material. The ground was slippery and my shoes were wet. The air got stuffy, but still, it felt cold. I went to feel the wall, and it felt like touching uncooked chicken. A substance was dripping from the walls and ceiling, and I swear it felt like there was a pulse moving through it. We moved along until, Ow, I said.

What, Matt asked in a sudden panic? I ran into a wall. I felt around to my left and found a wall. I looked over to my right and saw a large red light coming from the fog. The sound that we have been hearing was almost deafening now. It filled the room and made the walls vibrate. We walked toward the light and entered some large room. The light in the fog lit up some of what was surrounding us.

We looked back into the hallway. and saw that the hallway's floor was covered in remains. The wall of the room that connected the hallway was dark gray concrete and had symbols carved into them. As we looked, a shadow appeared on the wall, and we turned around. There was something in front of the light, the creature. It was looking in our direction. We quickly ducked down and walked out of the light.

From the dark, we saw the silhouette move in search, making those familiar noises it makes. We stayed absolutely still. We watched it scan its surroundings. It totally focused, not bothered by anything, not even the deafening hellish yelling. I heard Matt go to move and a rock slide under his shoe. It felt like time had slowed down.

I looked over at the creature, who was already looking in our direction and starting to move. I turned my body to move, dropping the camera on the floor. I kicked off and tossed myself towards Matt. The creature moving fast. than what I could see, and before I knew it, I hit the floor where Matt was. June and James were in shock, still frozen, not moving, not breathing. They looked over to me and I to them.

Tears slowly fell down their eyes and mine. We knew what just happened, but we couldn't let it stop us from getting out. We couldn't. The horrific noise stopped and we looked over to the light. Nothing. Total silence. We couldn't even hear if the creature was in the room. We didn't even know how big the room was. I grabbed the camera and made sure it was still recording.

I looked over to them. They did the same. We looked back over to the light and heard the intercom system turned back on. The same white noise playing through and the red light starting to flicker. I stood up and the others did the same. I took one step at a time, walking towards the light. June and James following just right behind. All of us making sure not to make a noise.

After about 45 steps we reached the light. It was just a light. We looked down at it for a second, only for it to turn off. The intercom turned off as well. Pitch black surrounded us, and the only thing that you could hear was our breathing. We made no moves. The only thing that provided light was the camera. I slowly held it up to my face and pressed the night vision button.

The camera went dark for a second, then switched to night vision. With the camera, I could see the edge of the room, the only thing being that edge almost a quarter mile away, the other wall too. I looked up at the wall to the left of the door and saw a window. The window from the room we stopped in. Then I looked over to the wall opposite the hall. There was a large tree thing in the center of the room, larger than I think any known tree. I quickly threw over my backpack and grabbed my flashlight. I pointed it at the direction of the tree and turned it on.

The fog helped illuminate the room. The tree's shadow made it seem bigger somehow. It was dark, almost perfect black. It had thin lines of purple substance coming from a large door-looking opening at its base. We started walking toward it. The ground turned from concrete of the room to an almost soil-like substance. Once we were a good 500 feet from the tree, the muffled yelling came back. Only this time we knew where it was coming from.

the hole in the tree. We walked closer and began to see purple flashes of light coming from the upper area. Through it, there was a forest clearing that led out to a large grouping of destroyed buildings in the background. Above us in one of the branches of the tree, we heard a growl, then smaller branches snapping as the creature was charging toward us. It then jumped and landed on the ground between us and the door. Its tall lanky body and glowing eyes now walking toward us,

The muffled yelling still coming from the door was still unknown, but it was still walking towards us. It stopped four feet from me and leaned forward. I was now staring directly into its eyes and in them. I saw only death, pain, and suffering. It raises its left hand and touched my forehead with its cold finger, and everything started to fade. I feel myself hit the floor. I hear two muffled screams and two others hit the floor. Then everything fades to black.

Tape 8. Home. The next thing I know, I'm laying in the cabin. Both June and James are there too. I hear the muffled noise of a door being kicked in, and I see blurry figures looking at June and James, and one comes to me. They try to say something to me, but it's just muffled. I try to get up, but I can't. Then everything fades to black. I awake to the sounds of a heart monitor to my left. I open my my eyes to see if one of them works. I look over to the window on my left. It's sunny. I see clouds moving across the sky outside. I see the sign too. Knoxville Hospital. I take a look around the room and see my camera on the desk to my right. I pick it up and open the screen. I look in the files and see everything is still there. I go back to the camera and press record. I place it on the table and look

back and see June and James waking up on the couch. Hey, how do you feel? June asked, placing her hand on mine. It felt cold, almost metal. Well received, I responded. How long have we been here? I asked. Looking out the window, about a week and a half, James responded, walking over. A doctor walked through the door, sat down and rolled over to the side of the bed. Well, look who's awake, he said. As far as we can tell, you aren't really damaged anywhere. Well, except your left eye. I'm sorry to say that you won't be getting that eyesight back. But your eye is now a deep purple, he stated, waving a pen around.

Anyway, you'll be able to get out of here by the end of the day and go back home. You'll also be prescribed medication. You'll need to take them when needed and not take them with alcohol, he said. I looked over to him. What do you mean my eye is purple? I asked. He picked up the mirror and held it to my face. There were scars all over my left side. My eye was slightly faded, but definitely purple. So the end of the day, right? I asked, still looking at my face. Yeah, we'll come release you in a few hours. Rest up, he said, walking out of the door.

A few hours later, the doctor came in and discharged me from the hospital, and we walked to the entrance. The doors of the hospital opened and I stepped outside and I don't think I could put into words what I felt to feel the cool autumn breeze on my face, to feel the sun warming the area around us just for a moment. I forgot all about what happened and just took in the fact that I was alive with my friends. We found my car, got in, and drove to our small town, a good few miles north of Knoxville. I dropped James off at his place and just hugged him. We both cried tears of happiness because we were just able to have this moment. After that, June and I drove back to our place across town. It's been about two months since that day.

We have lived happily since all that happened. I've found that James is now more open to people, and that after all, June and I have experienced together, she wants to get married. But I don't sleep well anymore. I get nightmares of that place, of Matt. I've had his parents ask where he's been, but I can't say anything, only that I haven't seen him for a while. I started recording these tapes a few days ago.

I guess to try to comprehend everything that happened. It's something that I haven't put much thought into lately. Now that I've said everything I needed to, I finally put this whole thing behind me. But sometimes I look outside, only to see two yellow circles looking back at me. I hated campfire stories growing up. My parents made me go to summer camps where people who couldn't stand their kids ditched them. Why bother having kids if you couldn't stand to be around them during the summer? My parents told me it was for enrichment, whatever that meant.

Make friends, get to know people, have a good time. Well, nothing is good about being forced to sit by wood smoke while getting poked by mosquitoes. All while some idiot named Councillor Todd told a cheesy campfire story. Worse was when, cool, counselor Chadley accompanied on his guitar. Anyway, as I said, I hated these stories growing up. I always had really vivid dreams, along with an overactive imagination. Those stories that blurred the lines between reality and fiction made both go haywire, and my mind became trapped in a spiral of what-if scenarios.

Always watching the shadows of the cabin walls as the moonlight made the branches stretch like fingers. Feeling breath on my ear when it was just the AC. The groan of my bunkmaid's bedsprings was some horrible criminal dragging his sickle along the floor. I think the worst story that Todd ever told was about the dear woman. It was nothing like the Native American tales of

shape-shifting women where men are lured away to be stomped by their hooves or stories of transformation. No, Todd's deer woman was something much more scary. It was something like this woman was driving down a road close to camp and hit a deer. Upon impact, she went through the windshield and collided with the deer. When the police and ambulance arrived, they found the deer, the crushed car, and a set of red footprints leading off into the woods. They never found the woman. Legend says she still haunts the forest around the camp to this day.

Todd said this to his terrified masses. The shadows playing over his face made him look demonic. After enduring three weeks of Todd's dramatics, I was over the spooky firelight trick. But the story freaked me out. I already detested the idea of driving, the very thought of driving,

alone some dark winding road only to slam into a deer was terrifying. Then mix that in with having my broken remains smashed with the deer? F that noise. The other stuff about the woman walking away to haunt the forest was obviously BS, though my fear of anything Servine in nature wasn't so sure. Don't judge me. Deer are freaky looking. And have you ever heard an elk bugle? Haunting. So, The story itself was playing on my imagination a little. Anything vaguely horn-like had my skin crawling, which my fellow campers thought was super hilarious. Then the night only got worse.

It was already late. Being in the middle of June, the sun was still lighting up the sky around 9 p.m. So the scary stories hadn't commenced until about 10 o'clock. Now the horrible hour of midnight was slowly approaching, and tonight was supposed to be a camp-wide hide-and-seek spotlight tag event. The whole thing sounded horrible. Why allow campers armed with only a flashlight and wits to hide anywhere on the campgrounds?

There were restrictions like no one was allowed to hide in the woods. Still, the situation sounded dubious at best. Nevertheless, campers who saw the flawed logic of such a game were not permitted to stay on the bench. So I played against my will. At first, I tried to hide somewhere obvious, so I would be found and made to sit out early. That plan was foiled when counselor Chad came up and looked at me with that expression you'd give to an obnoxious toddler. Come on, dude, he said in his Chadliest tone. I know you don't like these games, but you got to at least try, man. I'm going to turn around and count again. And then,

This time, you better find a good place to hide, okay? One, two, three. He was really going to make me do this. Fine. If I had to play, I'd play to win and give them a scare for once. I ran from my spot under the picnic tables down the road toward the best hiding place I knew. About half a mile from the actual campgrounds sat a collection of abandoned buildings that had been part of the camp at one point.

All of the buildings had fallen into despair. Some had boarded windows and doors. The areas were littered with broken glass. Many of them stuffed with old furniture and hardware, like ovens, fridges, and those serving tables you'd see at buffets, plenty of broken bunk beds, mattresses, dressers. In other words, things to hide under. Was I afraid of the potential spider

or tetanus hazard? Sure. But the drive to stick it to those annoying camp jockeys spurred me. I'm still not sure about what happened after that, after I found a place to hide. Tucked away, under a collection of discarded bunk beds, I watched the windows for signs of the flashlights. I felt pretty proud of myself, not going to lie. They would probably be searching for me for hours. Would I get in trouble for this later? Probably. Would I get sent home? Oh God, I hope so. I remember being in that abandoned cabin for a long time,

far longer than I thought I would be. I didn't have a watch or phone with me, so I couldn't tell what time it was. Boredom started to take its toll after a while. The longer time went without any of the counselors coming to find me, the more I considered crawling out of my hiding place and walking back to my cabin. A horrible stench reached my nose just as I decided that enough was enough.

It was probably the worst thing I had ever smelled, and someone exploded a can of fart spray in my high school wood shop class last year. So that was saying something. Whatever it was, it was clear that something was rotting nearby. I hoped it wasn't anywhere close to my hiding place. You think I would have noticed sooner. But then I heard a sound of something. walking. I say something and not someone because the rhythm was off. There was this kind of

lopping, dragging noise. There were too many legs for a person, but it wasn't enough for an animal. Step, step, step, drag. Step, step, step, drag. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up, a knot formed in my gut, and a little voice of self-preservation screamed that something wasn't right. The sound drew closer, the scent of rot growing more intense with each step, then my ears caught the inhale and exhale of ragged breaths, as if whatever it was was attempting to breathe through a wet towel. Something fell in heavy drops onto the ground, like someone was carrying a bucket of water, and some of it was sloshing out. Then there was the buzzing of flies.

As I stared out the window nearest my hiding place, I could see a black cloud swirling in the moonlight. Not long after, a shadowy figure stumbled into view. My mind whirled to place the jumble of shapes and forms into some kind of order. The thing appeared to be humanoid in the way it moved, but I saw a set of massive, deer-like antlers, and a slender animal face sitting on top a long, twisted, neck. Smore-flavored bile rose in my throat as my eyes picked out strips of hanging meat through

the dirt-covered windows. As the thing lumbered to the cabin door, I forced myself to be still, forced my breathing to be silent, forced my bladder to not go in terror. The creature pushed the door open. It's dreadful, dull creek filled the air like the last groan of a wounded animal. Step, step, step, drag. Step, step, step, drag. It lurched and lumbered across the floor, carried by two broken humanoid legs and one deer leg trailing behind. The stench from earlier hit my nose with a force that nearly made my stomach revolt.

Red bile dripping from the dislocated jaw onto the floor. Shadows enveloped the creature's face, but I knew it was looking for me. This couldn't be real. Monsters and things that searched for kids in the woods didn't exist in real life. This had to be some kind of a sick prank Todd and the others were playing. Someone, one of them, had to see me running off to the abandoned camp area. They got all dressed up and covered themselves in whatever foul-smelling spray this was to scare me. They knew how overreactive my imagination was and were messing with me.

The thing grew closer. If this was a prank, it wasn't fun. I wanted to scream for whatever it was to stop it. Go back to camp and tell the others that they had found me. However, something in the back of my mind clamped down on my voice, a primal sense that screamed that this thing was not a person. Step. Step.

Step. Drag. The creature stopped in front of my hiding place. My stomach rolled with the stench of decay. What little light shined through the grimy windows illuminated to the room. illuminated pale, misshapen purple blue legs. Bones crackled as it bent and half to peer into my den. Red and maggie bile dripped from its broken, dear jaw,

and one of the empty sockets. Warm, putrid breath hit my face, and I could feel myself filled with nausea on the edge of release. We stared at each other for a mind-numbing amount of time. Silence stretched on and weighed heavy and cold. Not knowing what else to do, I pointed one trembling, finger toward the door, with a voice filled with tears and terror, I said,

The hospital, the hospital is that way. The dear woman continued her silent stare for a few more minutes. I thought my racing heart would get to me before she decided to, as I stared into her one dull black eye. Then, like a rubber toy, her body slumped in half before rolling back up. Each of her vertebrae popped and cracked as she stood. Finally, she turned and made her slow, shambling way out of the building and away in the direction I pointed. Step, step, step, drag.

I'm sure I passed out after she disappeared, or maybe I went into some kind of blackened out state of panic. I can't really remember. I know I had returned to the camp at some point with everyone in a frenzy looking for me. Even the police and an ambulance had been called. Everyone was ready to give me a stern talking to until one of the EMTs noticed the shock on my face. In a way, I got my wish because I was taken to the hospital

and later picked up by my parents to go home. And before you ask, no, no one believed me. Why would they? The story sounded impossible. I wanted to believe it was impossible because things like that aren't real. They only exist in stories told around dumb campfire,

to susceptible imaginations like mine. So, now that you've heard my story, Who Wants to Play, Hide and Seek? Bobby leaned his head against the cool glass counter. The gas station was empty. No one ever came down this way, and he doubted tonight would be any different. He often wondered why the hell he was here

if only one customer showed up every third week. He did not wonder tonight. It was too damn hot. I should have called out sick, he muttered. Rotating his head, making sure the skin never left the cold safety of the glass. The room spun around him. It was a dramatic and frankly goofy way of moving, but Bobby prided himself in finding little things to keep himself entertained.

The thought of exposing himself to anything other than the cold counter was not entertaining. The security camera TV flashed by in one corner, the rows of cigarettes on the wall behind him, until finally at the back wall of refrigerator doors, even its cramped icy corridor would offer little relief in that hot muggy air. Bobby slid off the counter and scanned the room. The shelves all sat with their products neatly organized. The coffee maker across the room blinked plainly,

ready to brew for any would-be customer. There probably wouldn't be any. He stood and stretched, leaned over the couch, counter to scan the parking lot. The gas station sat in the middle of acres of unplanted fields with a single winding road separating the fields from a thick forest of pine. Bobby thought the fields were dried up and had never been told otherwise. He hadn't seen any farmers in all the years that he had worked here. It didn't bother him any. Most of the people who stopped in the gas station were locals

who just happened to be at this end of town. Rarely did they ever come here by choice. He sighed and checked his watch. He needed to pass the time, and the only thing that would help was to work. He wandered to the tiny storage closet to the left of the fridge doors and fished out a mop in a bucket. Cleaning the bathroom was rarely something he would ever volunteer for, but it would pass the time, and more importantly, it was cold in there. Bobby hooked his fingers around the out on break sign under the front counter and sauntered over to the front doors with it. A loud ringing echoed through the empty store when he pressed his foot on the door mat. The same bell would ring if someone stepped on the rug on the other side of the door too.

Bobby rarely heard that bell. Should have called out today. He sighed to himself. Bobby hung up the sign and stared out into the quiet night. He wondered if there were any animals out there looking back at him from the woods. He pressed his forehead to the door and thought about all the things that he would rather be doing. It did nothing to help his current situation, but it was refreshing to think about all the things he could be doing when he eventually did have off. He rose, wiping the sweat from his forehead and peered at the door glass. A wet, blurry smudge mark where he had leaned, another job to make the time pass by. Bobby nodded to himself, grabbed the mop, and began wheeling the bucket towards the bathroom. As he sauntered towards the bathroom door, he missed the

alone car speeding past into the dark distance like a bat out of hell. As Bobby propped the door open, he could not see the car wildly swerving across the center lane, over the trees. Lights had suddenly began to dot in the night sky, bigger than stars. No, closer than stars. They descended ever so gently, large groups of them converging toward the retreating vehicle. They were like paper lanterns. Lanterns dotting at the night sky. Lights began appearing in the forest in clumps. More lanterns. The car banked hard into the open field to avoid a cluster of lanterns that had exited the dense tree line. The car kicked up dirt and rocks and struck something incredibly hard. The front end bucked, bounced into the air and dipped, sending the car flipping end

over end. Its taillights swirled and danced through the night. It came to a complete stop. It tilted forward in the dirt as if it had been sent from a cannon some miles away. Because Bobby was wiping down the bathroom mirror, he did not see the man crawl from the wreckage, screaming, waving frantically at the gas station. The lanterns began to convene above him, slowly descending from every direction. The man noticed them and began sprinting, yelling louder. Bobby could not hear him over the mop going back and forth across the cool bathroom tile. The lanterns froze in place. They surrounded the man now. Then, one by one, they broke the huddle in a mad dive.

One got the man in the back, sending him rolling through the dirt. He flailed. The lanterns converged. One dove for his head, attaching itself, the light inside pulsing. The pulse slowed, dimmed, then gently warmed to its original brightness. Gently it rose into the air, and the man with it. His weight seemed to make it difficult for the lantern, but his feet were no longer touching the ground. He jerked and spasmed. His arms rose then fell weakly. His feet kicked, then dangled, levitating from it fully now.

The man and the lantern began floating towards the gas station. As Bobby wiped off the sink and discarded the crumpled paper towels, the floor was still wet and would need an hour or so to dry. He pumped the paper towel to spend for a final wipe down. It was empty. More work. He muttered. He found the key dangling from his belt and fished out the one for the supply cabinet in the bathroom. He fished out a roll of paper towels and put them in the dispenser. He pumped out one piece of paper for himself and left the other dangling for the next time someone used the bathroom. It would probably be himself. As he walked out of the bathroom, a loud thud echoed on the ceiling above him. He jumped. Something was on the roof.

A group of somethings, by the sound of it. They were moving over the freezer section at the back of the store. Raccoons. It happened last year too. A group of raccoons had come out from the forest and tried climbing in through the vents to get away from the heat. One had succeeded and needed to be fished out with a net by the local PD. Bobby leaned the mop against the wall between the closet and the refrigerator doors. Inside the closet, he retrieved a broom and walked over to where he had heard the thud.

He scraped the handle across the ceiling and banged the vent a few times. He had done this ever since the raccoon had gotten stuck whenever he heard rustling above the freezers. It must have worked too because no raccoon had ever gotten stuck again. After a few bangs, he had stopped and listened. The rustling continued. I really should have called out today. Bobby sighed. A raccoon had probably made its way into the vent, and he would have to go up onto the roof to confirm. He didn't so much mind the roof.

Oftentimes, he would go up there when he knew for sure no one would be coming in to gaze at the stars, which was always. The latter was in the outdoor storage closet near the ice machine. He turned and let out a startling yelp. In front of him was the magazine stand. The gaudy, colorful covers all plastered with faces looking in different directions. It sat against the front windows, and there behind him was the man staring off into the sky. The man stood there, slack-jawed, wearing the most ridiculous hat Bobby had ever seen. His sudden materialization had surprised him.

There was something clearly wrong with the man, other than the fact that he was staring off into space outside a gas station, people rarely visited. Bobby had a run-in with a junkie two years prior. The guy had wandered up to the gas station, probably after hitchhiking, and just stood around the pumps. Bobby asked him if he needed anything, and the junkie just laughed hysterically before falling into a fugue state beneath the lights. Pete, the local PD officer working whenever Bobby did, was usually asleep in the station or watching TV turned up way too loud. Bobby had to call four times to get a hold of him. Bobby took two steps forward and froze. there was definitely something wrong with the man.

Now that he was closer, Bobby could see his jaw twitching up and down, as if he was trying to make words. He was twitching and his eyes were almost rolled back into his head. Not to mention he had a nosebleed, the ear facing the window and a small trickle from the corner of his mouth. Before darting for the phone, something in the distance caught Bobby's eye, the smoldering wreck of a car. Wonderful, Bobby thought.

and dashed for the phone behind the counter. As he rounded it, he scowled. The scratching had gotten louder above the refrigerators. The raccoons would have to wait. He ducked under the front counter to retrieve his phone from its charger and dialed the station. This is Pete, Bobby's phone. Hey Pete, it's Bobby down at the gas station.

Hey, Bobby, what can I do for you? Pete mused. Bobby could hear the TV on in the background. Pete, I'm going to need some help. over here. Looks like a real bad car accident off England way in front of the station. Driver is here wandering around. Looks pretty beat up. He might be on something too. Ah, really? Pete muttered. Bobby could hear the seat he was in, Creek, as he sat up. Yeah, you may want to get on the phone with the Myers in case anything in the field catches, and definitely

Zach for the toe. Plus, I think there's a raccoon in the vent again, so bring a net. And the kitchen sink? Pete asked and hung up without another word. Bobby plugged his phone back into the charger. He grabbed the first aid kit nestled in the corner near his charger's outlet and shuffled over to the front door. The man was where Bobby had left him, still staring absently at the sky. He was facing the opposite direction, and Bobby couldn't help but stare at his hat. It was more like a plastic bag, really, but it had the most fantastic light display coming from inside, like a warm, glow. Come to think of it, it looked an awful like a lantern you'd release over a lake with a candle inside. Bobby had done that once as a class project in grade school. Bobby wanted to help the man,

but didn't want to get any closer if he was on something, so he wrapped his knuckles on the door's glass pane. Hey, he shouted. Hey, do you need help? The man turned towards him, but Bobby shuddered. There was something off about the way he turned. Not like a problem. person turning around, but more of a rotation, like a cake on display down at the bakery. It reminded him of his aunt Carol's, Lazy Susan, that let her turn the TV to face wherever she was in her living room. Do you need help? The man didn't move. He had clearly heard Bobby since he had turned so strangely, but he was making no real indication of responding to, or even understanding what Bobby was asking. Come on, man, Bobby whispered.

Then it caught his eye. The car was still tilted forward, like a weird fence post in the distance, but there were lights dancing around it. Not like the ones you saw if you rubbed your eyes too hard, but more like those lanterns. He squinted. There was at least a dozen around the car floating aimlessly. He spotted one in the corner of the parking lot, then two more at the pumps. He tilted his head and could make another floating past the corner of the building.

He turned to see if there were any on the other side. and screamed, dropping the first aid box and scattering its contents all over the welcome mat and making the bell chime in the store. The man was nose to nose with Bobby on the other side of the door. Something was definitely wrong with him. Even though they were nose to nose, the man's eyes were still looking upwards, his mouth hanging slack. Damn man, you want something? Bobby shouted through the glass. The man gave no reply. Bobby knelt down to collect the first aid kit. It was one thing to deal with the car accident, another to deal with a bunch of trash floating around the station. But a junkie too? Maybe he had been driving a car filled with Chinese lanterns.

I am definitely calling out tomorrow, Bobby muttered. He put the last band-aid in the box and closed it with a snap. Look, man, the local PD will be here any minute, so if you could just wait by your car, that would be... He stopped himself mid-sentence. He ran cold in shock. Bobby was still kneeling, but had raised his hand and saw that the man wore only one shoe. The other may be having flown off in the wreck. He wondered in that instant how the man had been able to sneak up on him in the front of the door. The welcome Matt Bell never rang. The man was floating.

Floating was the wrong word. His feet had barely lift off the ground and were dangling, twitching every so often. Bobby forced himself to look up. He could see now that the man was floating mid-air. His arms turned slightly red. He wasn't floating. He was being lifted. The hat, it looked exactly like the lanterns he had seen floating around the property.

But this one was on the guy's head, and it was pulsing. Not too much, but this close, Bobby could see it ripple and waver every so often. What he originally had thought, streamers hanging from a goofy hat seemed to grip the man's skin and pull it up. Some reaching nonchalantly in random directions. The man was being lifted by the lantern. Bobby noticed the man's neck muscles stretch from the weight of himself. Bobby took a careful step backwards away from the door. The man's hand went upwards, slamming into the glass.

It stayed in place for a moment, then streaked downwards, creating a long vertical smudge. The man began whimpering. His face muscles began to twitch. His nose danced like he had a sneeze on the way, and his eyelids danced up and down. The corners of his mouth lifted and snagged, his jaw flipping open and closed like a fish. Open, he croaked. Bobby took another step backwards. The man's hand slapped against the glass again, dragging down to his side.

His face twitched again, softer this time. The words came easier, open. Then. Bobby wondered when Pete would get here. Pete had a weapon, but so did Bobby in case of emergencies. It was in a holster bolted under the front counter. He had never needed it and had been explicitly told to never use it on anything. He questioned whether he would need it now. A crash behind him snapped his attention away from the floating man. The raccoon had come through the vent into the freezer, but the hair on Bobby's arm stood up and his heart jumped into his throat. there were no raccoons in the vents.

It was the lantern. It drifted aimlessly behind the rows of drinks. Bobby followed the floating light. The vent crash had knocked over one of the freezer shelves, scattering milk and butter across the floor. The door was still shut. But there was nothing between the lantern and him, other than glass now.

He walked away from the floating man. Open. There was a plastic hard case above a sunglass display, to his right, filled with several knives of different color and size. It had never needed a lock, and Bobby was thankful for that now. Still staring at the lantern, Bobby fished a knife out of the display box and held it between him and the empty glass freezer door. It was a comical hot pink with flames. Bobby didn't care. Whatever these lanterns had done to the man seemed painful. Bobby wasn't going to let it happen to himself. Bobby stepped closer to the glass and watched. The land, and the land. The

lanterns grace the floor, its tendrils, if that's what they were, gently swept around in every direction. Some of them would rise in the air and gently come to rest. Some touched the spilled milk and recoiled. The lantern bobbed and glided over to the door between Bobby and it. It was filled with light, like a shopping bag that they'd gave you at a local five and dime, covering a lone light bulb. Bobby's hands began to shake, but he held the knife in front of himself. Bending at the elbow, he got close enough to the glass. It happened very fast, so fast that Bobby fell backwards after the fact. Without warning, the lanterns reared backwards and lunged at the glass.

The feelers spayed out in every direction. It had lunged at Bobby, but the glass held. He could see the underside of the lantern now, and it began shivering. It was filled with teeth and tendrils. The tendrils pulled at the glass. The teeth were all facing a nondescriptive. directions. There were mouths in there. They had no lips and were lined with more of those horrible, jagged teeth. They bobbed open and closed independently of each other. Bobby needed the weapon now.

The lantern pulled away from the freezer door. Bobby shakily drew himself up to a crouch. The lantern slammed forward and Bobby nearly fell backwards again, jutting the weapon forward in front of him. The lantern repeated the motion. The freezer door popped open, then closed. The mop still leaned against the wall two refrigerator doors away. As the lantern reared back, Bobby lunged towards it. He grabbed it with one hand and rammed it towards the refrigerator door handle. The lantern was faster, smashing forward and opening the door again. Bobby swung his hand out hard and caught it.

The lantern was strong, strong enough to open the door from inside at least, but it had used momentum. There was no strength keeping it open now, and Bobby was able to close it quickly with relative ease. He fumbled for a moment and then jabbed the broom handle between the three door handles, bearing the lantern inside. Bobby was lucky. Three more had just come through the broken ceiling.

Damn, Bobby gasped weakly. He spun on his heels as he heard more banging from behind him. It had joined the floating man's slapping hand in a horrible chorus. The floating man had now started punching the window. The lanterns didn't seem to have much control over his bodily functions yet, as he couldn't truly form a fist. It had mastered the slapping motion, however, and now the man's half-formed fist smashed repeatedly into the glass. It left small patches of red, which spattered more and more with each hit. Bobby could see the man's hand becoming bent and his fingers in the wrong ways.

The floating man kept going. There was, however, a bigger problem. multiple lanterns had now latched themselves onto the front windows of the store and were attempting to open them in the same way the lantern in the refrigerator had opened the door. Their teeth filled maws bared at the store, opening and closing in a maddening rhythm. Bobby wanted to look away. They drew themselves backwards and thrust it forwards, each at different times. Thudding into the windows, the glass would not hold for long.

Bobby dashed for the front counter, just as the floating man's fist broke through the front doors, glass, and a spray of shards. He attempted to move through the opening, bumping into the rest of the door several times. Bobby fumbled trying to unholster the weapon, afraid to take his eyes off the floating man. He had started to wildly swing both arms at the glass in an attempt to wipe away the obstruction, ruining the welcome mat on the floor. He was making progress. So were the other lanterns. The front window panes now bulged horribly inwards in numerous places. Bobby risked it. He bent his head down under the counter, found the weapon, and retrieved it from its holster. He heard what sounded like an explosion of glass. One of the windows had finally broken in.

He ducked instinctively, ran out the side of the other corner, aimed his weapon. Nothing happened. Damn it, Bobby screamed. His hands were shaking terribly now. He eyed the eyeed, the weapon frantically searching for the safety. He remembered all the cop shows that always had the stupid criminals forget to take the safety off. Right now, he wished it was the latter. The lanterns which had shattered the window were thankfully still stuck on it, but three more were slowly floating through the wide gap. The floating man had successfully cleared the way of the glass of the front door too, and was now gliding through. Bobby found the safety, flipped it, re-aimed and fired. The first one went wide and threw a bag of chips near the front door. It exploded, sending snacks into

the air. It kicked harder than Bobby had imagined it would. He replanted his feet, took aim again, and fired off three more. The first got the floating man. He stopped, rocking back and forth softly from it, then began to slowly advance forward again, his feet grazing the shattered glass shards on the floor with a sound like twinkling stars. The second one had also missed its mark, sending magazines tumbling off the shelf. The third got one of the lanterns still stuck to the glass center mass. It popped like a bubble, sending neon blue liquid across the overturned window. Bobby's hair stood on end. Taking out the lantern had caused a strange electricity to fill the room, like a soft buzzing. More lanterns had grouped outside and were moving towards the store,

The three lanterns nearest the window had now began wafting inside. Bobby started moving towards the bathroom. He could use the back door, but there was no telling how many were out there. A quick glance toward the refrigerator showed a total of six lanterns that had come through the front roof. They were having trouble reaching the glass and still had product in them, but their tendrils were reaching between the bottles and attempting to find purchase. Bobby moved faster. He turned back towards the front windows and ducked just.

in time to see the lantern whizz over his head. He aimed quickly and fired several more blind shots toward the lanterns while reaching for the bathroom door. He heard two of the lanterns explode in a sickening pop. The buzzing filled the air again. Bobby thrust his hand out, gripping the bathroom door handle, threw it open. In one motion, he spun into the bathroom, aimed and fired one more shot. The floating man was making his way down the row of the bathroom supplies directly toward him. The shot was missed, striking a small travel pillow sending feathers through the air. The floating man went through them, a few sticking to his shirt and some to the lantern on his head. Bobby's eyes went wild.

The store was filled with lanterns now, and more were filling the front windows, front door, and refrigerator. He was surrounded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see several lanterns rearing back for a charge. He dropped the weapon sending it across the floor and slamming it. the door shut. He reached out to hammer in the sliding lock when the door pushed him backwards. He slid to his feet. The lanterns had charged, hitting the door before he could close, slamming it inwards and nearly off its hinges. Bobby leaned back and rammed his shoulder forward, slamming into the door. He was thankful the lanterns didn't seem to have strength outside of

their initial lunge. The lanterns on the other side of the heavy door reached their tentacles around. Bobby was too quick. He jabbed the door into its frame. The tentacles flailed wildly, then came to rest. It looked as though streamers had gotten caught in the door. Bobby turned both the deadbolt and sliding lock and took a step backwards. He took in a ragged, slow breath. Three more lantern slammed into the door. Bobby stumbled backwards, slipping onto the still-wet tile and hit his head on the sink with a wet thunk. He fell to the floor, landing on his back. The door had shattered, but the locks held. The door slammed two more times. For how long? Bobby's head hurt. He reached his hand back, running it through his hair. His hand was hard to focus on

when he put it in front of his face. Three more lanterns hit the door. A screw from the top lock flew out, bouncing next to Bobby. Bobby looked down up. the weapon in his hand, took some time, and he found the eject button for the magazine and checked it. Only two left. The door shuddered again. Another screw popped loose. Bobby rested his head against the cool sink. Something was wrong, but he wasn't quite sure what. He heard sirens. They were getting closer. Bobby tried to stand, but still slick, he was unable to find the footing. A steady pounding had jolted the chorus of rammings against the back. bathroom door. The floating man was out there. Bobby slid further under the desk. The door was

starting to bend inwards. First one. Then two tendrils began sneaking into the crack between the door and its frame. Three more slams. The steady pounding was getting louder, both on the door and in Bobby's head. The sirens were blaring. Were they outside? Bobby thought he could hear voices. He heard a shot, a scream. He could hear Officer Pete yelling out someone else's name. Was it Zach's? There was shots now, steady and controlled. Another scream. The fire continued, but somehow it seemed less now. Bobby kept his eye locked on the bathroom door. It was still hard for him to focus. He could see the floating man. The door had started to bend inwards on the top right corner. The floating man seemed to be staring towards him. His arm shot forward through the gap,

slapping wildly at the door. Was he looking for the lock? Open, he rasped. Bobby raised the weapon. His arm was heavy. He closed one eye and tried to aim at the lantern on the floating man's head. Bobby smiled weakly. It really did look like a ridiculous hat. He pulled the trigger. For a moment, Bobby thought nothing happened. It had missed its mark, but not entirely. The floating man's hand had been hit, but to Bobby, it made no sound. The arm hung there, now dangling bent over the opening. Had he stopped? The door continued to shudder as other lanterns pounded against it. Bobby heard Pete enter the store. The door had chimed. He had heard him scream something. Was it at something, or because of something? Bobby couldn't tell.

Was that his name? He heard more shots. One of them dented the bathroom door. Bobby could see the protrusion like a small pimple. Three more than a muffled scream. Silence. Bobby looked down at his weapon and back towards the door. The floating man's arm had began to move again.

His forearms wiped helplessly at the door's locks. It left streaks of crimson. Bobby squinted. Something was moving behind the floating. man. Another floating man. Did it look like Zach? Bobby couldn't tell. He looked down at the weapon again. The door continued shaking on its frame. The steady pounding had doubled now. The thunderous slams of individual lanterns peppered the air in the chaotic chorus of noise. The top lock shot out with the last screw. The deadbolt was holding, but the door had began to bend inwards at a faster

rate, both above and below the bolt now. He had no way out. The lanterns outside had doubled before he had gotten into the bathroom. How many were there now? His help had come. It had gone. Bobby did not want to be a lantern's puppet like the floating man, probably like Zach now. Also Pete. He could see the additional floating men behind the one missing his hand. It was like they were in line waiting for the bathroom. They were in line, waiting for him. I should have called out of work, Bobby chuckled. I've been a fire watch lookout for about a year now.

I spend most of my life alone in a small window lined one-room shack atop a steel and wood-frame tower in the middle of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. My only companions are my collection of cheap novels, a laptop computer with infrequent and unreliable internet service, and the two-way radio I use to communicate with the the few other nearby towers and ranger stations. Nearby is a bit of a misnomer, though. Using my high-power binoculars, I can just barely make out Tower 12 on a clear day, situated several miles to my west. Tower 15, the next nearest to my location, only appears as a glint of sunlight to my east, when the sun catches it just right. I've been told the Parks Department

intends to put up some additional towers in this area as soon as it gets the necessary funding, which is probably no time soon. That's fine with me, though. I like the solitude. It helps quiet my mind, keeps the memories at bay. I occupy most of my days either with simple maintenance in and around the tower, or else scanning the dense sea of trees all around me for any signs of trouble. It's been a dry year, so the threat of fire is a constant one. This particular afternoon, I was clearing some brush from around the base of the tower that had begun to encroach on the fire road that led from my tower back to the main ranger station, 20 miles away. Even with the heavy suspension of the government-issued Jeep Park nearby, that was a harsh ride in the best

of times. I had just finished dragging some brush cuttings off into the tree line when the radio clipped on my belt squawked. Tower 9. This is Tower 12. How copy. It was Billy Johnson, my supervisor. Nice enough guy, I suppose. Tended to leave me alone most of the time. I straightened up and stretched my back, wiping the sweat out of my eyes with my forearm, and keyed the microphone attached at my shoulder. Go for Tower 9. I replied as I replaced the shears and bow saw to the small storage shed near the base of the stairs. John, do you have eyes on a bit of smoke north of your position? Stand by, Billy. I said, snatching up my water bottle and jogging up the metal staircase that wrapped its way around my tower, I didn't bother locking the eight-feet-chain link fence that surrounded my little compound.

Chances were that I'd be back down here soon enough. Reaching the top, I stepped through the trap door and onto the walkway that surrounded the cabin, closing it behind me. It was habit at this point. The last thing I needed was to take a misstep and tumble down through the open trap door. I'd probably end up breaking my neck. As I passed by, I reached into the open door of the shack and grabbed the binoculars hanging on a nearby hook, rounding the railed corner of the walkway and turning my attention to the dark green blanket of trees

stretching out before me. I saw the smoke almost immediately. A thin trickle of wispy white haze rose lazily above the canopy some distance off, probably just some campers, I figured. Though there weren't any approved campsites in that area, we always had more than a few folks every season who decided that camping off trail and the deep bush sounded like a hoot. Most of them come back just fine, oblivious to the danger that this wilderness shows to anyone not adequately prepared for its risks. Some of them have to be brought out by search and rescue. Some of them just don't come back. A member of the Rangers, or maybe even a random hiker,

will occasionally trip across the deserted remains of a campsite, and report it in. Those are the spooky ones, the ones where the people have just vanished and left behind a perfectly set up campsite. No explanation, no clues, just a deserted clearing, often with perfectly intact tents and personal effects. But there are bears and mountain lines,

along with a handful of lesser predators that roam these forests, and sometimes they get hungry enough to stalk and even get humans. And that doesn't even take into consideration the much more likely probability that folks step out of their tents at night to take a leak in the woods and very quickly get lost and can't find their way back to their camp. Most humans aren't suited to survival in the wilderness, unfortunately. My radio squawked again. Tower nine, what's the word?

Yeah, I see it man. Looks to be a couple miles due north of my tower. What's your plan? He asked, and I knew what he was asking. Keep an eye on it and hope for the best, or take a trip over and investigate. After a brief moment's pause, I sighed with resignation. It's probably just a campfire,

but I guess I'd better head on over and take a look, just to be sure. I didn't relish the thought of a trek into that area of wilderness, to be honest. It was the only area I hadn't explored during my time here. There weren't many trails headed in that direction, and the ones that did were badly overgrown and too narrow for the Jeep. A couple miles hike might not seem like a lot, but when you're out here, alone, the dense trees seem to stretch on forever. Two miles can seem like a hundred. Roger that, John, Billy replied, take your pack and your rifle and check in periodically. Well do. Tower nine out, I said.

Replacing the binoculars to their hook and shouldering the red canvas back to the, pack waiting dutifully in the corner chair. I grabbed the rifle from its rack over the door frame, checked to make sure it was loaded, and headed out. As I locked the gate behind me, I threw my pack into the back of the Jeep and set the rifle beside it. The Jeep wouldn't get me too far before the brush made the trail impassable, but if it saved me even a half mile of hiking, it was well worth it. The sun was still high in the sky. I had plenty of time to get there and back before dusk as long as I didn't dawdle. I started the engine and put the Jeep into gear, turning the wheels towards the unmaintained trail to my right. After only a few moments, the trees and canopy obscured any

trace of the watch tower behind me. I was actually able to push the Jeep farther than I had expected, a pleasant surprise. I was probably a mile along the trail before it crept the bed and a massive pine lay across the path, much too large to go over. The dense underbrush around me precluded the possibility of going around, and I immediately lamented not bringing the chainsaw with me. Cutting it up and winching the pieces out of the way wouldn't have been too difficult and would have saved me a ton of trouble. With a quiet curse, I stepped out of the Jeep and grabbed my gear from the back seat. I smiled to myself as a quote from a certain fictional adventure seeking archaeologists suddenly came to mind. We walk from here, making sure to mark the location of the Jeep on my handheld

GPS so I could find it again. I stepped over the thigh high tree trunk and continued along the path. According to the estimate I had made before leaving, the trail I was walking seemed to head in the direction of the smoke, which was a blessing in my book. The less time I had to spend bushwhacking, the better. The trail continued to narrow as I expected, and before too long I was brushing branches and leaves with my shoulders as I walked. The trees which had been alive with the chitterings and chirpings of animal life back at the tower now seemed muted. The forest around me was growing denser, feeling oddly claustrophobic at times. I checked in with Billy a couple of times, advising him of my progress and promising to maintain

periodic checks. He advised me that a weather relay had come in from the Ranger Station indicating an approaching storm that would likely reach us before nightfall. A quick check of my watch made me wince. I had already spent more time than I had predicted it would take to reach the suspect campsite. Maybe it was best to turn around and head back. The last thing I wanted was to get caught out here overnight with minimal supplies and in a rainstorm. I wasn't worried, but it sure wouldn't make for a comfortable overnight. If I had been farther from my destination, I probably would

have turned back right then. I wish I had. Within another 20 minutes, however, I smelled the faint scent of a wood fire, not strong, but it was there. I was even more certain of what I would find when I reached them. When I stepped out of the now almost non-existent trail and found myself in a sparsely-treat area amidst a dozen or so wooden shacks, I halted in surprise. I had reached the base of a hilly rise, covered in heavy forestry, and these old, forgotten cabins looked like they had been some sort of small settlement. Perhaps an old logging camp, I thought to myself, I didn't know this place even existed and made a mental note to research it when I got back to my tower. I keyed the microphone. Tower 12, this is John. Do you copy? When Billy replied,

his voice was staticy and distant. Hey John, Tower 12, what's your status? I frowned and looked around at the towering trees all around me. I suppose I was asking more out of the portable radio than was reasonable. I was lucky I still had any signal at all, to be honest. I found what looks like an old logging or trapping camp. I said, meandering among the decaying and derelict cabins. Most of them had decayed to the point of collapse, and there weren't any with intact roofs. The campfire has to be nearby. I'm going to take a look around a bit more. There was an odd pause before Billy spoke again. What's your current location, John? I glanced at my handheld GPS and relayed my position to him. Another pause. John, I think you should

probably just turn around and come back. You don't have too many more hours of daylight left and that storm looks to be getting worse. Something in his voice sounded off, but I couldn't quite place it. Nervous, maybe. I don't think I can blame him, though. My safety was his responsibility and the prospect of one of his lookouts being caught out in the storm overnight probably didn't sit well with him. Coincidentally, it didn't sit well with me either, I thought with a smile.

You may be right, Billy. I replied, turning around and letting my eyes take in the entirety of the area. I think I'll just go. I stopped as my eyes caught sight of the bright yellow nylon tent just beyond the last of the structures. Repeat your last, said Billy. I didn't get that. Stand by, Tower 12. I said absently, making my way to what I now realized was a small cluster of three modern tents situated around a central fire ring.

The fire had been extinguished, but the embers still smoldered lowly, the source of the smoke. I looked around for the campers but didn't see or hear any. anyone. Sleeping bags and electric lanterns were still in the tents, though I couldn't find any backpacks or supplies. Hello. I called out, turning in a circle and trying to pick out any signs or sounds of human life. I'm with the Forest Service. Is anyone there? Nothing but the muted echo of my own voice. I was about to just dump some dirt on the remaining embers of the campfire and call it a day when I noticed the narrow footpath heading towards the slope. I could see clearly the recent footprints in the soft dirt, heading away from the camp. I keyed the microphone at my

shoulder again. Tower 12, this is John. I found the source of the smoke. It's a campfire all right, nothing to be concerned about. Billy answered almost immediately. Roger that, John. Head back home. I paused a moment, curiosity pulling me towards the footpath. I'll be heading back shortly, Billy. I just want to check something out first. I wouldn't screw around. out there, John. Billy replied, an edge to his voice. Better head back now so you can beat the storm. His last sentence didn't exactly sound like a suggestion. Something had him rattled. I hesitated before I answered. Acknowledged. Knowing full well that I was going to check out the path a bit before heading back. Still, I didn't feel like arguing with my supervisor about something so silly.

Just a quick walk up that path and then I'd be on my way. This path was even less established than the one I'd been on when I discovered the camp, but I could clearly see the prints of the campers in the soft dirt. Before long, I emerged into a small clearing, eyes widening with yet another unexpected discovery. The rough hewn timber that framed the entryway was set into the near vertical slope of the hill face before me. It created a dark tunnel entrance that had been sealed off with a heavy iron gate many years before, likely by the park's service to keep inquisitive hikers from falling to their ends in an old, abandoned mine shaft. So, it had been a mining camp, not a logging camp.

I didn't know there were any mines anywhere near here. Hell, I'm not sure what they would have been mining for. Coal, maybe. Did they even have gold mines in Tennessee? Who knows? Certainly not me, clearly. Regardless, now that gate stood wide open on its hinges, the remains of a rusted chain and antique padlock laying in the dirt nearby.

Hell, now I couldn't just turn around. around and leave. Not if these idiot campers had decided it would be fun to explore a closed and restricted mine entrance. Tower 12, this is John. Do you copy? Billy probably wouldn't be happy that I had continued my exploration after he told me to head back. But there was nothing to do about it now. I wasn't equipped or trained for any sort of cave exploration or rescue. The Rangers had very specialized teams for that sort of thing. But I could at least poke my head inside and see if I could hear the campers or at least confirm that they actually went inside. No answer from the radio. I tried again with the same results. Nothing. I tried a different approach.

Tower 15. This is John from Tower 12. Do you copy? I said into the radio. I figured I might be able to at least get Nathan's attention if I was out of range of Tower 12. There was a burst of static that sounded like it might have contained the hint of a human voice, but it was too distorted and distant to make anything out. There was only a moment of indecision before I made up my mind. I knew it was reckless to go into the mine, especially when my supervisor was under the belief that I was currently on my way back to my tower. But I just had this nagging intuition that something might be wrong with this whole situation. Maybe someone was hurt and in need of help. I couldn't just leave them there, knowing that I might be their only chance of rescue.

In retrospect, I should have turned back and called it into the Ranger Station. They could have mobilized the search and rescue teams that specialized in cave rescues. I should have, but I didn't. I pulled my flashlight from my pack, turned it on, and headed into the pitch black darkness of the mine entrance. The walls and floor had been smoothly carved many years ago, which made my footing uneventful, and the tunnel itself was mostly a straight shot. Several times during the first few minutes, I turned back to watch the bright square of daylight at the entrance gradually shrink to a pinpoint of light. By the time I had taken the first dog-leg turn of the tunnel, I was in complete darkness.

It was a very strange feeling, oppressive, almost. At one point, I turned off my flashlight experimentally, but after only a few seconds, I quickly flicked it back on. In that time, my heart had been pounding in my chest and some primal fear had begun growing inside of it. me, I took a moment to calm myself. The darkness was absolute. It was almost as if you could feel it pressing in on you. My footsteps seemed much louder than they should have on the dirt floor and the air was beginning to grow cold and damp the farther I went. After another hundred feet or so, the smoothly carved tunnel ended abruptly in a wall of rubble. I couldn't tell if it was a caven at some point or if this was simply where the miners stopped digging and hadn't bothered to remove

the debris. But either way, it's sort of. certainly appeared to be the end of the line, and then I saw it. I almost missed it because of the way the light and shadows played over the head-sized rock-strewn before me, but when I looked closer, I realized I was looking at a ragged hole in the wall. It was only five feet across or so, and definitely didn't look like the deliberate formation of the tunnel I was standing in now. It almost looked like the miners had broken into a natural void of some sort. Interesting, but there was no way in hell I was going in there.

I was definitely not trained or outfitted for any sort of spell-unking trip, and it didn't seem the sort of thing suited to the learn as you go method. Just as I was turning back to make my way out of the mine, I heard the distant sound of voices echoing from the opening in the stone wall. The sound was faint and may have just been my imagination, but I didn't think so. Hello, I called, pressing my face into the black abyss of the hole. Can you hear me? I'm with the park's service. I'm here to help you. Nothing.

The air from beyond the breach was cold and smelled stale, old. Rogn. I felt as if I didn't belong here. None of us did. There was a long moment of unbroken silence and then I heard a voice again closer this time. Did you hear that? It said, presumably to a companion. It sounded like a young woman, nervous, uncertain.

Hello, is someone in there? That settled it for me. I carefully crawled through the opening and into the space beyond, shining my light around. I found myself in a small natural chamber, maybe 30 feet across and with an uneven ceiling of jagged rock that barely cleared my head. The first thing that caught my attention was the cracked lantern laying on the ground. It looked old, very old, maybe a hundred years or more. A thick layer of grime and age covered its soot-blackened tin surface, and the glass was thick and uneven. Beside the askew lantern was a small, leather-bound book, partially buried in the dirt and dust,

with a moldering leather strap securing it closed. It looked like a journal, and without a thought I tucked it into my backpack, raising my light back up to scan around the room. Hello, I called again. I couldn't hear the voices anymore, but the narrow beam of my flashlight illuminated another tunnel in the far corner of this room, mired in darkness. Can you hear me? Once again, I got that feeling that something wasn't right.

Then the voice came again. Closer this time. Did you hear that? Hello. Is someone in there? She asked. Her voice trembling with apprehension. I hesitated, frowning.

Something didn't seem right about the voice, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Before I could summon my words to respond, another voice called out. This time it was clearly the voice of a young man. We can hear you moving around in there. Please help us. We're lost and our friend is hurt. I was shouting to them. I sure as hell wasn't trying to hide. Can they not hear me for some reason?

I stepped forward to the secondary tunnel and raised my voice again. I'm with the Forest Service. Can you follow my voice? It was then, when I reached out to steady myself against the wall of the tunnel entrance that my hand met something wet, and I recoiled in disgust, thinking I had just grabbed a handful of some subterranean slime. When I put my light on it, however, it became very clear the reality was far worse. Blood, I stepped back, trying to keep the panic that was fighting to take control of my rationality at bay.

I needed to keep a level head now, panning my light around. I saw an astonishing amount of red liquid painting the wall and floor in front of me. Somebody had definitely been hurt and badly. With loss like this, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stabilize them long enough to get rescue in here. What the hell happened here? And why did the hikers continue into the cave after one of them was injured this badly? Unless they'd lost their light and gotten turned around, there was no way for them to get lost. There hadn't been any branches to this tunnel since I first entered.

All they had to do was turn around and walk until they saw daylight. The man's voice called again, colored with the unmistakable tinge of fear. What is that? Hurry up. Becky, take my hand. He seemed to be getting closer, at least. If I could guide them to my voice, maybe I could get them out of here, get to higher ground and radio for a rescue evacuation. They had a helicopter permanently stationed at the main ranger station. It could be here in 20 minutes if I was able to reach them.

The woman's voice came again, and this time I froze. Did you hear that? Hello, is someone in there? All at once had hit me, and the indescribable unease I had been mostly successful. and repressing now fought back with renewed vigor. I realized at that moment what I had missed previously. The woman had repeated herself twice more now. No change in her inflection, no variation in emotion or urgency. It was exactly the same, down to the syllable. It was like I was listening to a recording. What is that? repeated the male voice, now even closer. Hurry up, Becky, take my hand.

below the words, I thought I could hear the stealthy sliding of something soft over rocks. It seemed like it wasn't too far beyond the tunnel entrance now, but I wasn't going to wait for it. I didn't think that what I'd see emerge from the darkness would be a couple of college kids who'd had a rough time of it during a weekend camping trip. Now allowing my panic to run free, I turned and threw myself through the cave breach and landed roughly on the flat stone floor of the mine shaft beyond, skinning my hands to hell and banging my knee on a rock, scrambling to my feet with a hiss of pain. I ran as fast as I could, not realizing until I finally burst into the waning light of the late afternoon light that I had

lost my rifle somewhere in that cave. It was darker than it was when I first entered the mine, and a quick glance to the sky showed the angry black thunderheads that had moved in as promised, much faster than I had expected. I quickly swung the iron gate closed on screeching hinges and looped the chain between the bars as tightly as I could, securing it rather lamely with the hasp of the broken padlock. I stood there a long moment, bent over and hands on knees as I tried to catch my breath outside of the mine entrance. When I felt the first drops of the coming storm on the back of my neck,

I straightened and looked through the bars of the gate into the ominous darkness beyond, realizing how ridiculous my barricade really was. It wouldn't do much good if something tried to get out, but at least it made me feel a little better. until I heard the voice echoing from the mind shaft, getting closer. It was unmistakable, uncanny. Hello, can you hear me? I'm with the park's service.

I'm here to help you. By the time dawn arrived the next morning, I had climbed down from my temporary shelter in the low boughs of a red cedar and tried to work out all the painful kinks from my stiff shoulders and neck. The night had not been kind to me, but I was alive, which is more than my fear-stressed mind expected after yesterday. The night had been harrowing, there was no better word to describe it. The rain hissed among the trees and stunned-exposed skin angrily,

driven by the banchy whale of the wind rushing through the forest, and was accentuated by the chaotic flashing of lightning and heart-stopping crack of thunder. Because of this relentless chaos, it's difficult to say with any certainty. But throughout the night, I thought I heard something large trying to move stealthily in the forest near my shelter. I say, trying, because it felt like whatever stalked through the end. underbrush was more at home in the unnatural Stygian gloom of the cave than under the watchful eyes of nature. Of course, it could just as easily have been my imagination. When the first dim light of dawn started to illuminate the sodden and dripping forest,

I spent the better part of 20 minutes straining my eyes with every ounce of concentration as I scanned the gray woodlands around me. I was only 10 feet or so above the ground, but there was no way I was going to step foot from my height until I was absolutely certain I was alone. Once I was satisfied that I was alone for the moment, I climbed down to the muddy ground. I tried the radio several times through the night and into the morning, but wasn't able to get even a burst of static that might indicate someone was trying to respond. A combination of the storm and the interference from the trees worked against me.

My first thought was to get back to my Jeep as quickly as possible and run every drop of gas out of its tank trying to get as far away from this place as I could. When I checked the GPS to see how close I was to its marked position, however, I found the unit unresponsive and with a disastrous crack across the screen that seemed to mock my dismay, probably caused by my less than graceful scramble from that damned cave. No rifle, no radio, no GPS. Perfect. I still had a compass and the rising sun to guide me, though, and that was something. I was only a couple miles from my tower, which should have been somewhere due south of where I stood. I knew that once I got close, I should be able to either find the service road or the tower itself, so there wasn't much danger of getting myself lost, at least. It was a small comfort, but one I gladly took. I moved through the trees and undergrowth with more speed and recklessness than I probably should have.

An ankle broken by an errant misstep would have been bad news. Still, even though I hadn't heard or seen anything of my late-night visitor, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched. You know that creeping sense of dread you feel when you've just turned the lights off in a basement and now have to climb the stairs back to the light of the doorway, or when you're making your way from your car in a darkened and lonely parking lot. It's the feeling that something is there, something much more suited to the dark than you are. It's that same feeling that pushed my footsteps almost to a jog as I traverse the uneven ground

and storm felled detritus that tried to hinder my passage. For the next hour I moved at this pace, aware with every rasping lung. full of breath that I should pause and rest for a few minutes, knowing that pushing myself to fatigue would only increase my chances of falling or hurting myself. I imagine myself lying and blinding pain next to an unseen chuck hole, clutching at a broken leg and watching as the sunlight began to dim with the onset of dusk, waiting for whatever haunted my trail to find me. What would happen then? Would I even have time to look on its visage before it struck? Did those campers in the cave? A misstep and stumble that nearly made this night,

A self-fulfilled prophecy jarred me back to the present. Against all instinct, I forced my pace to slow, first to a trot, then to a walk. Then, reluctantly, I stopped completely, trying to catch my breath while I scanned the dense woodland around me. Nothing. No, not nothing. As my heart began to slow and my breathing returned to a more manageable cadence, I turned my gaze back in the direction I had been headed, and an unconscious smile found its way to my lips. The sun had risen high in the morning sky during my flight, and now I caught the flash of its reflection on the windows of my tower, not 200 yards directly ahead of me. I laughed aloud with relief, fully aware that the fear-tinted eruption was closer to the manic cackle of lunacy than anything else.

I didn't care, though, and my feet started forward again on their own, quickly reaching a brisk pace. A few minutes later I burst out of the trees into the maintained clearing surrounding my tower, feeling the full sunlight on my face for the first time since yesterday morning. Had it only been a day, it seemed like longer. I was so filled with relief that I didn't even register the fact that a forestry department jeep sat parked near my fence-enclosed tower until I started entering the combination into the gate lock. The faded white 12 emblazoned on the corner of the windshield told me that it was Billy's Jeep,

which wasn't much of a surprise, I realized after a moment. After not hearing back from me, I was more sorry. surprised I hadn't returned to find an entire S and our team making preparations to search for their lost puppy. I punched the four-digit code into the mechanical combination lock on the gate and step through, making sure to close and lock it behind me. I stood there a moment, staring through the tall chain link fence at the dense tree line, wondering if something waited just out of sight in the shadows, staring back at me with hungry anticipation. I shook myself of the sudden chill as best I could and made my way quickly to the staircase,

taking the steps two at a time. Billy was going to be mad at me, I was sure, but the thought was a fleeting one that didn't take purchase. His displeasure was the least of my concerns right now. When I reached the top, I threw open the trapdoor and suddenly found myself looking down the muzzle of a very large rifle. Even in that brief moment of abrupt shock, I could register how the barrel trembled in the hands of its agitated master,

and I wonder how close I came to having my life ended in a bright flash of light. The moment only lasted a second or two, and then Billy hastily swung the rifle away in a safe direction. Damn it, John. He exclaimed, his tone an incongruous mixture of relief and fear. I almost shot you. I stepped fully through the trapdoor and let it drop closed behind me. Jesus, Billy, I breathed, leaning back against the railing. I suddenly felt weary and realized it was likely the adrenaline now rushing from my system that had kept me moving at such a hurried pace throughout the morning. Where the hell have you been?

He demanded, stepping back inside my shack and taking a chair at the small table in the center of the room. I noted with mild interest that he kept the rifle leaning against the table beside him instead of stowing it in the rack over the door but decided not to comment on it. Billy Johnson was in his middle years, maybe 45 or so, with a bit of a gut and grayish-brown hair trimmed close. He wore an impressive mustache that reminded me of something an old West gunslinger might groom. He was dressed in typical attire, khaki forestry service shirt and brown cargo pants. In addition to the rifle, I'd had the unfortunate opportunity to closely examine a moment earlier. I noticed that he wore his point five zero-zero magnum in a holster at his side. That wasn't too unusual when out in the bush.

Bears and mountain lions can sneak up on you unaware. Having a hand cannon within easy reach goes a long way towards taking the fight out of them if necessary. It was a little unusual for a drive over to another tower, I supposed, but not exceptionally so, given the circumstances. I took the opposite chair, dropping my pack to the floor next to me. I realized my legs were still shaking anxiously, and I placed my hands on my knees to try to calm them. He was trying to deflect, but he was horrendously bad at it. He knew something, I was sure of it. You know where I've been, I replied, gambling on instinct.

I watched his face closely for a reaction and wasn't. I wasn't disappointed when he winced and turned his focus out the window, and over the forest to the north. I told you to aboard and head back to your tower. He stated brusquely, but you just had to feed that curiosity of yours, didn't you? You're lucky to be alive, you know that. From my chair, I reached under the shelf to my right and pulled a half-empty bottle of Jameson and a couple of mostly clean glasses.

Dillie turned his head and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Alcohol was a no-no up here. I poured and handed him one of the glasses, however, he accepted it without a word. I took a pull from the other. It's my own damn fault, I suppose. He continued, turning back fully to me. It's been so long since anyone's even thought of Camp Leclair that it didn't even click for me when you told me where you saw the campfire.

I took another drink and then poured a bit more of the whiskey. Camp Leclair, that old mining camp, I asked. Logging Camp, actually, he corrected me. The mine was there long before the East Atlantic locking company set up out here. Nobody knows who dug it. Hell, nobody even knows when it was dug. A long time before the 19th century, at least. Camp Leclair was established in 1872, and the mine was old even before that.

He looked at me in earnest for the first time since I'd returned and frowned. You look like hell, John. Dot caught in the storm, I'm guessing. Hell of a storm. I only raised my eyebrows as if to say what an understanding. statement that was. Billy nodded knowingly and took another swallow. Did you find the campers at least? I shook my head and turned to look out the window to the north where I could almost envision the black void of that mine entrance staring back at me. No, I tracked them to the mine, but lost them in the

cave. I jumped when Billy's glass hit the floor and was out of my chair before I even realized it. Billy hadn't moved from his seat, but now both hands were splayed on the table before him, as if to steady himself. His pale blue eyes were wide and fixed on me. He went into the cave, he said, a sudden and horrifying realization dawning on him. It was then I realized my mistake. He hadn't known. He thought I had just discovered the camp and the mine and then got caught in the storm overnight.

A close call, but nothing that couldn't be undone. Yeah, I replied, nodding slowly, deliberately. Yeah, I went into that cave looking for the campers. The gate had been cracked open already, not sure when or by who. I leaned forward in my chair and stared hard at him. Billy, there's something in there. I think it got those campers, and I think it followed me out. Billy Johnson's face had gone white then, and I thought for a moment he might pass out.

He scooped his glass up from the floor with numb fingers and poured himself another splash of whiskey, downing it in a gulp. When he spoke again, it seemed far away, distant. Kuatami. That's what the Chickasaw called it, and they were here long before we ever were. Angler is what the white man called it, among other names. Kewatami. He nodded. False brother, lying man, or something like that. Hell, I don't know, what do I look like, a translator. It means bad, no matter what language you speak. It means something is out there that isn't supposed to be, something that was locked away a long time ago and forgotten. It was then that he stood and grabbed up his rifle as if suddenly remembering something. I need to get back to my tower and make a call. Now, I gestured to the radio base station sitting patiently on the table near the door.

Why not he's mine? Billy shook his head. Sorry, John, but it doesn't work that way. Special phone, special number. I just hope I'm not too late. I started to stand. I'll go with you, I said. He pointed a stern finger at me and narrowed his eyes.

No, you stay here, strap on your handgun and make sure it's loaded. His voice was calm, almost cold, and didn't leave much room for debate. Still, I had no desire to stay here alone with whatever this angler thing was roaming around out there. Dillie, I can go with you. I can help. I started to argue, but was quickly cut off when he took a menacing step towards me, and I realized quickly how much I'd underestimated him because of his normally easy manner.

He will stay in your damn tower and you will follow your orders. He roared, and I unconsciously took a step back and reclaimed my seat, only managing a shaken nod and acknowledgement. He took a trembling breath, pointed at the radio, and said in a slightly less terrifying tone, and keep that thing on. As soon as I'm back at my tower, I'll radio you with updates. A later, he was gone, and the trapdoor slammed shut behind him.

I stood and retrieved the pelican case from under my cot. inside was the same model of magnum revolver that Billy had been wearing, heavy and cold in my hands. I loaded it and belted on the leather holster, feeling the reassuring weight tugging at my waist. John, I heard Billy call from below and went outside to the walkway, leaning over the railing. He was standing beside his Jeep 50 feet below, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight as he looked up at me. Make sure to keep everything locked. I'll come back for you, he shouted. I raised a hand to him and slid the latch shut on the trapdoor with my toe.

I turned back into my shack as I heard Billy's Jeep fire up and a moment later drive off down the rough service road towards his tower. I glanced back to the north, to the place where I had first seen the campfire smoke rising the day before and suppressed a shutter. I was alone again, safe in my tower and armed, but alone. Abruptly, like an unexpected wave of nausea, the feeling that I was being watched washed over me with a chill, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I looked back over my shoulder to where Billy had been only a minute before but saw only the rough service road and dense impenetrable tree line beyond that. Probably just my imagination, but the feeling didn't diminish and with every passing breath.

I was more and more certain that there was something nearby, just out of sight, standing stone still in the gray-green foliage, waiting. I stood there a long moment, eye straining for any hint of movement or alien shape among the shadows, but if it was there, my human eyes weren't sharp enough to pick it out. I stepped back through the open doorway of my shack and dropped down into the chair again. My eyes catching the bottle of whiskey before me, I was tempted to pour another drink to help settle my nerves, but I could already feel the tickle of a buzz at the edges of my mind from what I had already drank and quickly decided that the last thing I needed was for my reflexes and awareness to be

dulled right now. I'd made more than one poor decision in the last 24 hours. I'd made more than one poor decision in the last 24 hours, I didn't think adding another to the pile was such a great idea. Grabbing the bottle, I screwed the cap back on and reached to return it to the sparse shelf to my right. As I did so, my boot caught my pack, knocking it over. Without a thought, I reached down to move it out of the way and then remembered the old, weathered journal tucked inside the front pocket, the one I'd found in the cave. I reached into the unzipped front pocket. For a frustratingly alarming moment, my searching hand couldn't feel anything in the compartment, and I feared that I had lost it in my chaotic escape, but then my fingers brushed

the familiar shape, and I withdrew it, setting it in front of me on the table. I could see the book much more clearly now in the daylight. It wasn't overly large, a little larger than my hand, and maybe the thickness of my thumb. There were no markings on the front, except for a simple grimy brass loop that secured the leather strap holding it closed. I wasn't sure I wanted to see what was inside, but I needed some answers. A stray sound from the trees below rose to my ears and I froze, listening intently for more, but none came. The forest around me was silent again and I turned my attention back to the journal, pulling the strap free from the cover and turning to the first page. From the pocket of Andrew Robinson,

it said. The writing was neat and compact and distinctly male. The ink was a rich black scrawled upon brittle yellow pages, and though faded with the years, was still mostly legible. I turned to the next page where the entries began. I felt as though I had dropped into his account midway, as though this was just the latest in a series of journals that this Andrew Robinson had been keeping. The 23rd of July 1891. After nearly a week of hard overland trekking, we reached the abandoned camp late this afternoon, exactly where the old trapper said we would. Sequoia, our Pawnee tracker, has once again astonished me with his overland navigation skills. I must admit, I was skeptical at the yarn the old trapper had spun in the crowded confines of the common house in Dunn Creek,

especially after I smelled the drinks on his breath. But the professor never doubted a moment. The man's instincts for reading human character are absolutely singular. The camp looks to have been abandoned, and I have to admit to a certain unease as we inspected the rough cabins. There isn't a soul to be found, and it looks years abandoned. Yet everything stands as if awaiting the loggers return at any moment. Strange. The 24th of July 1891. Our small troop of intrepid adventures made camp in the center of Leclair last night. Though the cabins likely would have been more comfortable,

I doubt any of us would have felt at ease intruding upon them. Richards laughed it off when someone mentioned how peculiar it was that the loggers had departed in such a hurry that they abandoned their personal possessions. But I could see in his eyes that he felt it odd as well. Sequo'i, our ever-courous and stolid guide, seemed ill at ease and unusually withdrawn, refusing all conversation and only responding to queries with quiet grunts. Something of concern hides behind his eyes, though, and I wonder at what it is. Only the professor seems unmoved by the unusually still atmosphere of this place, and his typically infectious positivity keeps working at our unease,

keeping it from expanding beyond its current state. Today we spent much of the day exploring the air, surrounding Camp Leclair, and the sunlight was nearly spent when Dobson burst back into camp with news of his discovery. We, all of us, raced at a moment's notice behind him as he led us along and ill-used a nigh-invisible footpath that led ever ascending upon the side of the northern rocky slope. When the path terminated, we were deposited before a truly curious sight, a barricaded tunnel entrance had been bored into the rock face by some unknown hands. I suspect some sort of exploration tunnel or at it dug in search of precious oars, especially given the nation's more recent history with gold fever. The wooden barrier that had been roughly assembled from a hodgepodge of heavy timber beams was curious,

and several of our group commented on it, but the professor dismissed it as a triviality, so the matter was dropped. It is far too late in the day to proceed further, but we plan to penetrate the barricade and enter the tunnel in the morning. The excitement among the men is palpable. The 25th of July 1891. Sequahy is gone. He took his supplies in his prized Winchester rifle and fled sometime during the night like a phantom. This is a shocking blow to us all, but none more so than to the professor,

with whom the Pawnee Tracker had partnered for a number of years across much of the eastern states. We have no explanation for his sudden desertion, and it sits on well with the entirety of the group. The overall mood has darkened, I fear, still, we must push onward. The 25th of July 1891. Addendum It took more than two hours of hard labor, but we were finally able to gain entrance to the mine shortly before noon today. Richards managed to get his boot caught between two heavy timbers as he stumbled forward, straining his ankle with a terrible cry.

We feared it broken, but Dr. Franklin assured us that the bones seem intact. Regardless, Richards was taken back to the camp where he will convales while the rest of us make our entry. His part in our exploration has come to an end for now. We made our way in a single file through the added tunnel for some way before reaching its carved end, the light from our oil lanterns providing regrettably inadequate illumination over the rocky surroundings. When we reached the terminus of the mine tunnel, our heart sank for a moment before the professor gave a exclamation of discovery, and suddenly disappeared through a nearly hidden rift in the wall, surrounded by jagged rocks. We eagerly followed him through, careful of our footing as we went,

and found ourselves in what I can only assume to be an accidental breach by the miners into a natural cave system. The air was chill and moving, but our excitement at this discovery allayed any concerns or discomfort this might have caused. The professor directed us to set a secondary camp in this new chamber, which will be used as a staging point for further exploration. So we spent the rest of the day bringing supplies from our main camp and constructing a smaller version in this moderately sized chamber. By the time we completed this endeavor, the efforts of the day precluded a start to the exploration until the group has had the opportunity to rest and replenish their energy. I feel I will sleep well tonight, despite the anxious excitement buzzing around my mind. The 26th of July 1891

Another shock when we awoke this morning. O'Connor is gone, the Irishman, who has ever been reliable and constant as the North Star, was assigned first watch last night. There is no trace of him, and no indication that he took any provisions or even his personal rucksack with him. I fear his natural inquisitiveness may have gotten the best of him and led him to explore the deeper caverns beyond our ad hoc base camp, for his lantern is the sole item that has gone missing with his person.

The professor immediately rallied the rest of our small group, 7,000. and all, now, and mounted a search for our lost companion. I tried to caution him against rushing into action, but he was not to be deterred. To my dismay, I was the sole man ordered to remain here at camp whilst my companions took up their supplies and launched deeper into the cave system. In the event young O'Connor returned in their absence, I was understandably disappointed but grasped the logic of it well enough. I would loathe to think of O'Connor returning only to find us all gone and then losing himself again trying to find us, I shall endeavor to rest a bit. With luck, my companions will return before long with our lost compatriot.

The 27th of July 1891 I am at my wits end and am unsure how to proceed. It has been more than a day since the professor led the rest of the men in search of poor O'Connor, and I have felt their absence as keenly as I am aware of my own solitude in this cave. I have seen nothing of our missing companion or of the party that delved deeper into the system yesterday morning, and I know their lanterns did not have sufficient fuel to carry them this long. Without other means of illumination to guide their return, I fear they are hopelessly lost. I, myself, had to return to Leclair for more lantern oil for my own waning light. I must admit with no little embarrassment some

reluctance to my return to this dark place, which no longer carries any of its form or adventurous excitement or fascination. It is now nothing more than a doorway into the deep places below the earth where men were never intended to tread, but the growing apprehension is not the worst of it. The sounds. By heaven's grace, the sounds. I first became aware of them last night as I dimmed my lantern and tried to set myself to sleep. At first it was only an indistinct and muted echo that may have been interpreted as nothing more than the distant whistle of wind or other natural sound, distorted by the unique acoustics of this place. But then I heard the distinct tonal qualities that could only be a man's voice. I instantly rose and took up my lantern, raising the flame and

rushing to the entrance of the cave that had swallowed my companions. There I stood, listening with such keen focus that I felt beads of sweat upon my brow. I would swear upon a holy book that it was the distant calls of the professor himself, and I eagerly called back with as much fervor as I could summon, hoping desperately to guide them back to me. However, the instant I called out, the voices vanished, and I was met only with the suffocating silence of an open tomb. There I stood, straight as a sentinel, praying for a response from my friends. After several minutes of absolute silence, my thoughts began turning to dark things. I became painfully aware that anything beyond the weak cast of my lantern would be utterly invisible to me, but I, on the other hand, would be lighted as a beacon to it.

I pushed these thoughts from my mind as forcefully as I could, inwardly chastising myself at seeing ghouls where none existed, and was about to call out again to my lost companions when I heard it. The voice came again, echoing from the claustrophobic abyss that lay before me, mired in the blackest darkness one could imagine. It was still some distance away, but I was certain it seemed closer now. When the third time I heard it, I was just barely able to make out the words, but it was enough to be sure. My own words echoed back to me from the depths of that cave and in my own voice.

I staggered and nearly dropped the lantern at that moment. Could the legends be true? The professor always seemed to believe them, though I must admit I attributed his faith to the unwavering certainty he held in those things lost to antiquity. He had always maintained that a legend, especially one whispered by so many indigenous peoples without mutual contact, must have some rude in truth, but that line of reasoning is antithetical to modern civility, and I must reject it and focus on the more probable explanation that my already stressed nerves were turning my fears against me. The voices must be those of my companions lost in the dark, but near enough to hear their calls. They must be. I am not certain what lies next, but I know that I cannot abandon

my companions, my friends, to wander the darkness until they fall from exhaustion or dehydration, while I might yet help them, I will leave this written account at the entrance to the cave. This lantern is nearly spent, but I have another with a full vessel that I will take in its stead. If I do not return, at least someone may know of our passing here. May God be with us all. I closed the journal with a trembling hand, momentarily lost in what I had just read. How is it possible? The journal was more than 130 years old. No animal alive then could be what pursued me now. What if it's not an animal? The sudden burst of static from Billy's call that simultaneously erupted from my radio-based station, and the portable handset clipped at my shoulder

made me jump and drop the journal on the floor. Heart pounding, I cursed under my breath and keyed the microphone. Belford Tower 9. I answered, my voice tight. As I spoke, my eyes drifted out across the sky to the east, where darkened thunderheads had been unknowingly gathering and marching slowly in my direction. I shook my head. I sing on the cake, I thought. John, what's your position? asked Billy, the self-assured authority that had filled his tone before was strangely absent now, replaced with something else. Fear. I frowned a moment at the question before answering. Where do you think, Billy? I'm in my tower, just like you told me. A strange pause before he spoke again. John, this isn't some sort of joke, right? You're

You're not outside of my tower. I was growing more agitated by the moment. What sort of question was that? I had no jeep. There was no way I could have made it to his tower in such a short amount of time, even if I'd wanted to. No, Billy. I answered with more force than I'd intended. I'm not outside of your tower.

I stopped mid-sentence, a horrified realization sweeping over me in that moment. I tried to speak, but my mouth had gone dry. Dully was all I could muster. The radio was silent as my eyes slowly drifted to the west, where I could just make out the small, lonely shape of Tower 12, barely visible over the darkening blanket of green. Was that a gunshot? Another damn night stuck in this window lined prison.

At least I have a good view, so I guess that's something. The storm raged all night again last night and only let up just before dawn. At one point, the winds were gusting hard enough to rock, the tower, which was a bit disconcerting, to say the least. As I stand out on the wet catwalk around my shack, I see that the clouds haven't let us go just yet, and look every bit as ticked off as they did yesterday afternoon. It seems like the dry season has come to an end, which is good, since I've been slacking a bit on my fire watching duties over the last couple days. Dallow's humor, right, it's either that, or sitting in the corner in a fetal position,

crying, and I've been told by my ex-fiancee that I'm not an attractive crier. I haven't heard a peep from Billy since his last terrifying broadcast to me yesterday. I've tried to reach him several times since then, but no dice. I've also tried reaching Nathan and the Ranger Station, but all I get is static, even from my base radio set. When I first started here, I remember Billy telling me during my brief orientation that the radio should be able to reach out 50 miles or more, so I'm not sure what's going on with it. Update, I just took a quick look at the base station and found that the cable leading up to the antenna on the roof of the shack is now just a dangly thing swaying in the breeze. The storm must have decided it needed the antenna more than I did, because it's gone.

I can see where the screws were torn out of the wooden mast, and before you say anything about whatever this thing is that's been stalking around deciding to sabotage my rarer. I should probably tell you that the wood and antennae mass looks like it's been around for a long time. The wood was probably dry rotted to begin with, and now that it's soaked, it crumbled away in little wet brown bits as soon as I probed at it with my fingers. Speaking of whatever this Kuatami or angler thing is, I'm just going to call it a mimic, I think. I haven't heard or sensed anything weird since yesterday. I'm assuming it's still out there somewhere, but I don't think it's nearby. If it's still anywhere around here, it's probably somewhere over near Tower 12, or at least that's what makes the most sense to me, anyway, which brings me to my shiny new lunatic idea.

My Jeep, it can't be more than a mile down the northern track, still sitting there in front of that fallen pine. I could probably get to it in less than an hour, even with the wet and muddy ground. It had almost a full tank of gas, and I'm pretty sure I could outrun this mimic thing in it if I can get onto a straight shot of service road. I definitely don't relish the idea, mind you. Every instinct is screaming at me to sit my butt right where I am in this tower. I know that the Ranger Station will start getting a little antsy when Billy doesn't check in after a few days. But I'm also thinking they may extend it out a day or two in light of the foul weather. Maybe five days at the outside, and then I'll have a Ranger truck parked outside my tower.

The question is what they'll find when they get here. See, I've been thinking about it. Billy definitely knew more about this thing than I do. Certainly, enough to not open the door for it when he heard it outside pretending to be a Girl Scout selling cookies. That makes me think that maybe the fence and the trapdoor might not be enough to stop it if it really wants in. As terrifying as the prospect of leaving the tower and making for the jeep is sitting here cornered in my window lined shack, just waiting for it to show up in the middle of the night, is even worse. At least I have chance out there.

I still have the magnum. it's been holstered on my belt since yesterday. They don't issue pea shooters for bear protection out here. This thing is the most powerful handgun in mass production. It'll put down anything in North America as long as you can hit it right. Any normal animal, anyway. Who knows what this thing is capable of? Still, it does provide a level of comfort and gives me some confidence that my plan may work,

if luck's on my side. For now, I'm going to try to eat a granola bar to put something in my churning stomach and try to build a little energy. I don't think I've eaten anything since early yesterday. After that, I'm grabbing my pack and heading out. Wish me luck. I left my tower shortly after 10 a.m. and let me tell you,

those were some of the most difficult first steps I've ever taken in my life. Stepping out through the chain link gate into the open space beyond my small compound felt like I was stepping off the roof of a skyscraper. When I closed the gate behind me, I just stood there motionless for what must have been five minutes.

frozen in place with my hand, clenching the grip of the revolver still holstered at my belt. Even with all the stress and anxiety swirling around in my head, I was amazed at exactly how keen my senses seemed in that moment. It felt like I could hear every rustle of leaves and smell every damp patch of moss in the thousands of acres of wilderness surrounding me. In that moment, I felt very small, very insignificant, trivial. When my chest began to ache, I realized that I had been holding a breath in, subconsciously afraid to make even the slightest sound.

I let it out slowly and forced myself to breathe normally again. Scanning the trees, I turned slowly in a circle, eyes searching for anything that seemed out of place like it didn't belong, but there was nothing there. Everything seemed normal, at least to me. Casting one last look over my shoulder at the refuge of my tower, I started off along the seldom used service road to the north, careful of my footing on the muddy and uneven ground.

I allowed myself to move at a slow jog, fast enough to make good progress, but not so fast that I was announcing my presence to the world. Not so fast that I couldn't hear the forest around me over my own breathing. I stopped a couple times during my trek to catch my breath and take a drink of water and thankfully still seemed alone and unpursued for now. I wondered if it was out there somewhere among the dense trees, hiding in the muted gray shadows of the forest. Maybe it was looking for me at that moment. Perhaps it had returned to my tower in my absence, found it empty, and was even now tracking my flight along this trail. If I paused long enough, would I see it suddenly rounding the gentle curve behind me as it caught up? Or did it prefer to move more stealthily among the trees and underbrush, laying in weight alongside the path ahead, ready for my approach?

I had to forcibly shake myself of that line of thought. It wasn't doing me any good now. I was committed to my plan. The thought of retracing my steps and returning to my lonely watch tower held just as much terror, because now it sat there unmanned, unwatched, abandoned. For all I know, the mimic could be there at this very moment, ransacking my shack. I definitely didn't want to walk back in on that little scene. I can promise you that much.

I ended up making surprisingly good time on that northern path. It was only about 30 minutes before I saw the dim shape of my Jeep, waiting dutifully in the middle of the path ahead. The matte tan paint job and black cloth roof stood out remarkably well against the muted greens and browns of the surrounding forest. Urging my pace to quicken, I covered the last hundred yards before I even realized it and found myself standing at the door, hand on handle. I paused, a chill ran down my spine, inciting an unbidden shiver.

I realized then how quiet the forest around me was and wasn't sure how long it had been this way. I felt that something was out of place and so did the native fauna. On any given day, the trees were alive with the sounds of wildlife. Squirrels and chipmunks chittered, insects buzzed, and a thousand varieties of birds called and sang from the treetops. Not now, though. It was as if they had all left, and I felt very alone in that moment. Only, not quite alone, somewhere out there in that sea of trees, something stalked.

Something that didn't belong in the light of day. something that didn't belong under the watchful eyes of Mother Nature. I was pretty sure she wouldn't have let something like the mimic evolve, had it not been hidden in its underground realm. The door of the Jeep was thankfully quiet as I depressed the latch and swung it open. If this had been a horror movie, I'm sure an ear-splitting screech would have erupted from its hinges, but in real life we tend to take care of these vehicles pretty well.

In the best of times, they are the only convenient way to travel for 20 miles or more. In times like this, though, it was likely the only thing that would save me. I jumped in and pulled the door shut behind me with a dull thunk, subconsciously locking it. I almost laughed aloud when I did that. The entire top of the Jeep was nothing more than canvas and plastic windows. A feisty hamster could probably have penetrated my little haven. I doubt the mimic would even think twice about it. The Jeep fired up immediately when I turned the key in the ignition,

and I threw it in reverse for the most ungraceful 14-point turn to. you've ever seen on the narrow and muddy service road. Once I got turned around, I didn't waste any time directing it back the way I went. The service road was really little more than an uneven and ill-maintained dirt trail and was only ever used infrequently by the rangers and lookouts. As I'd previously mentioned, it was a rough ride, even for the heavy suspension of my trusty steed, so I had to keep it at a reasonable speed. The very last thing I needed was to snap an axle or bounce myself right off the road and into the trees. Compound the condition of the trail with the fact that it constantly curved as it progressed, and it meant that even my best

speed wasn't too much faster than I could run on foot. That's okay. Once I got past my tower, the service road was generally better maintained and followed a more or less straight path. I'd be able to build some decent speed there, and I'd be out of the wilderness and standing at the ranger station in an hour or so. The abrupt appearance of my tower caused me to feather off the gas as I rounded the last curve from the northern track. I slowed to a crawl and squinted through the now dirty windshield. From here, everything looked exactly like I had left it. The gate still stood closed and, looking up, I could see the trap door also appeared shut. Maybe this thing hadn't returned. Hell, maybe this thing wasn't ever going to return. For all I knew, it was headed in the opposite direction.

It's not like it had a GPS or anything. It was at that moment that I nearly scared myself when the radio still clipped to my belt squawked and I heard probably the last thing I had expected to hear. Billy, John, are you there? The signal was pretty clear, but his voice sounded weak. I almost didn't respond. I was frozen, indecision clouding my mind. I didn't know what I could trust to be true,

but I doubted that this mimic had read the radio manual and learned to operate the handset. I snatched the handset from my shoulder and keyed the mic. Dully, holy crap, is that you? He answered me right away and I thought I could hear relief in his tone, buried under his pained words. John, thank God, I was afraid you were gone. My eyes drifted to the trail leading past my tower, toward the Ranger Station, toward safety,

another five minutes and I would have been over. I've got my Jeep and I was just about to haul it for the Ranger Station, I replied. What's your status? There was a moment of silence and I wondered briefly if he'd even heard me, but then he answered, I'm not doing too good, John. I'm in my tower, but that thing hurt me. I've been drifting in and out. I've patched myself up as best I could, but I can't stop the cut on my leg. I frowned and closed my eyes a moment, asking a question that I was pretty sure I knew the answer to. Are you able to get to your Jeep?

I thought I heard a coughing bark of laughter before he answered. I don't think so. I'm pretty banged up. What happened? The thing got into my tower. I managed to get off a shot at it, but not before it got the jump on me, he explained. It took off before it did me in, so I think I hit it. I don't know where it is now, though. My tower is wide open, and it hasn't come back, so maybe it's gone. I doubted that. Things never work out that simple. Are you stable? Can you be moved? Another silence.

And then. I know what you're thinking, and haul it to the Ranger Station. That's an order. I dropped my forehead to the steering wheel, closing my eyes and cursing. It would have been easier if Billy hadn't radioed me. I know it's selfish. I know I'm a jerk for even thinking it, but I could have been blissfully out of range if he had only waited another ten minutes.

I could still put the throttle down and get out of here. I could still race for the Ranger Station and have them mobilize a chopper. to come back for Billy, but they were at least an hour away. Factor in the spin-up and travel time for the helicopter, and you're talking more like an hour and a half before anyone gets to him. He didn't sound good. Something told me it was unlikely he would last that amount of time. I could still turn left.

I'd likely survive, but could I live with myself, knowing that I left Billy to pass alone in his tower? What if our situations had been reversed? Sure, I might be saying the same words he was saying now, But in my heart, I'd be pleading for that voice on the radio to help me. I couldn't imagine being in his position, lying there, hurt and running out of time, knowing that his safe haven was wide open and that thing was out there somewhere. Look, I know what you're going to say.

I know what you're probably already saying. Don't be stupid. This is exactly why everyone dies in a horror movie. I get it. Believe me, I get it. But this isn't a movie, and my friend was lying there in his shack. If I could get to him and get him into the Jeep, we could both be out of here, leaving all this twisted nightmare behind us. Dillie, I'm headed your way. Get ready, because we're going to wrestle you down the stairs and into my Jeep as quickly as we can.

I said, cranking the wheels to the right and taking the western trail with more speed than I should have. John, I gave you an order. Get out of here now. Despite the situation, I managed a sardonic grin as my rig bucked and bounced over the uneven trail. Billy, I'd like to take this opportunity to officially tender my resignation from the fire watch. Now shut your mouth and conserve your strength. I'll be there in 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes turned out to be a pretty good guess and before long I skid it to a halt outside Tower 12. Next to Billy's ride. I opened the door and stepped out into the quiet air, my handgun coming out of its holster and held before me like some sort of shield.

I took a quick moment to let my eyes roam over the surrounding woodlands for any sign of moving. before quickly jogging around my jeep and towards the compound's entrance. I passed through the open doorway, taking note of the heavy chain-link gate that was laying twisted 15 feet inside of the fence. Another dozen paces and I was at the base of the stairs, craning my neck to make sure nothing was awaiting me above. I keyed the mic at my shoulder and said in a low voice, Billy, I'm outside of your tower right now, heading up. Don't shoot me. I turned the volume on the speaker down just in time for his response. Damn it, John, I told you to leave.

But despite his words, the gratitude and relief were clear in his tone. I started up the stairs, revolver still held at the ready as my other hand ran mightily along the railing. My eyes were drawn to the red-black spot staining the gray paint of the steel steps. I found even more of the viscous fluid on the railing as I continued my ascent. blood, but not billy's. Good, I hope that idiot is laying in the woods, breathing its last breath. He definitely hid it, but I had no way of telling how seriously it was hurt. In a human, bright red indicated an arterial bleed,

which was typically a fairly significant injury. With this thing, who knew what black red meant, I climbed the rest of the staircase as it ran around the tower and stopped just below the open trap door. Billy, I called out cautiously. A pause, then came his reply, shaky and with a wheezing sound that I didn't like at all. How do I know it's you, say something that this idiot couldn't have heard you say before? I've always admired and respected you.

I answered without hesitation. Jerk. He said under his breath, come on up. I took another couple steps, cautiously poking my head through the trap door. Billy was sitting upright, more or less, resting his back against the doorframe of his shack and aiming his own handgun generally in my direction. As soon as he saw my face, he dropped his hand to his side, the stainless steel barrel falling against the metal walkway.

As I stepped fully through the trapdoor, I noted two things immediately. Firstly, there was a significant amount of that black-red-oze splattered around. Secondly, I realized how badly injured Billy was. His face had gone gray with a sickly paleness, and his breaths came in ragged hitches. Soaked bandages wrapped both forearms in the side of his head. his face was covered with a crimson rag, taped-tap-hazardly down. His entire khaki Park's shirt was painted in a hellish tie-dye of shades of red, but it was his leg that worried me most.

A tourniquet had been tied around his thigh, but the pants' leg was a cherry red below that and was glistening in the late morning light. Jesus, Billy, I exclaimed, holstering my gun and rushing to his side. He waved me off as I knelt beside him. I know, it looks bad, save it for later. Let's get out of here before that thing decides to come back for another round. I nodded and stood again, taking a quick glance past him and into his shack. A twin to my own tower normally, Billy's looked like a war zone now. His table and desk had both been overturned and smashed, along with his base set radio. On the floor nearby was a satellite phone, its antenna and display obviously smashed during the attack. Lifting his arm over my head, I helped him to his feet. He grimaced in

pain, but through his remaining strengthened with mine, and we began the precarious descent through his trapdoor. Did you at least get to make your phone call? I asked him as we took the steps carefully and agonizingly slow. He shook his head. It got here just as I was getting ready to. It was using your voice, telling me that you were from the park's service and that you were here to help. He looked at me with a shaken astonishment. It sounded just like you, John, but when I looked over the catwalk railing down at it. He winced again as we half stumbled on a step. Almost there. He continued, holy hell. I've never seen anything like it. I shook my head as we reached the bottom step and moved onto the rain-soaked ground and grunted with exertion.

Save it, Billy. We have a long ride ahead of us, plenty of time for that later. He just nodded as I maneuvered him around the passenger side of my Jeep and helped him climb in. Once he was in, I hurried back around to the driver's door and got in, starting the engine as I pulled the door closed behind me. Throwing it into reverse, I felt the wheels break loose as I stepped on the gas with a bit too much enthusiasm. I swung the four by four around and put it into drive, pointing it back towards my tower and beyond. Safety. I only had a heartbeat's warning from Billy before I saw it, barreling from the underbrush at us. It threw itself, a great mass, crashing into the side of the Jeep and Billy Scramm,

to get away from it, dang near climbing over the center console in the process and knocking my hands off the wheel in his panic. The jeep swung wildly left and I stomped down on the brakes to avoid careening off into the trees. One of the front wheels dipped off the road and the steel bumper crashed through a small cluster of oak saplings, halting us abruptly and stalling the engine. Everything went silent in that moment as we froze. My breath hitched in my lungs and my eyes widened in shock as I laid eyes upon this abominent for the first time. My first impression was that it was much larger than I had thought,

but the nightmare visage before me eclipsed such a pedestrian observation. The thing stood in the middle of the trail still, shaking its head as if trying to recover its senses after the collision with the two-ton vehicle. It looked vaguely humanoid in a sense, but it walked on four limbs clearly proportioned to such a task. It was hairless and with mottled pink gray skin stretched tight over muscles, bones, and odd, unidentifiable growths. The limbs seemed to have joints that bent in all the wrong directions and ended in what should have been claws. But instead of the distinctive keratin composed sharp nails that seemed so familiar in the natural world, these seem to be extensions of the creature's skeletal structure protruding painfully through

its vainy translucent hide. But worst of all was the bulbous and disproportionately large head that topped an oddly gaunt appearing neck. It was oblong and reminded me of the shape of a feline skull in general appearance. Its ma seemed a jagged tear across its face, with ill-fitting and chaotically positioned teeth that didn't seem to allow the mouth to close properly. I couldn't see any eyes, but where they should have been were instead too bulbous and cysts like organs, seeming to bulge and flatten in a slow rhythm, as if bladders filling with air or liquid. I reeled back in revulsion as it turned its sightless head in our direction,

searchingly. Flaps of skin on either side of its malformed snout opened slowly like some obscene blossom composed of milky gray bat wings, and I had the sense that it was using them to try to somehow locate us. It was then I saw where Billy's shot had struck the creature in the face. One of the snout flaps was nearly completely cut, hanging in contrast to its sibling, and a gouge furrowed by the shot's travel creased along the right side of the thing's head. When it turned its head farther in our direction, I could see clearly where it had bled significantly from the shot, but was horrified to see that the wound had already sealed itself and a shiny silver scar was left to mark the incident. I knew I hit you. Billy whispered.

The mimic stopped its motion. A moment later, the twisted sound of a human voice assaulted our ears. I know you're out there. The voice was unmistakably billy's but was distorted and wrong. I thought that the injury from his shot probably had something to do with that. The thing raised its head again, turning a bit more in our direction, and took a few experimental steps forward. Again, it paused and lowered its head.

This time we heard what sounded like the pained roar of the bear, almost perfectly replicated, except for that same distortion that we had heard previously. Had this thing got a bear? I held my breath as we watched it again raise its head and take a few more contemplative steps in our direction, slowly swinging its grotesque snout back and forth. I could see how the flaps of skin that were flared open where its nose should have been twitched minutely back and forth, and I felt like it was using them to listen for us. It knows we're here somewhere, but it can't see us, whispered Billy, leaning close.

But if it gets close enough, I'm thinking we're done for her. I looked over at Billy and realized that there was no way he'd be able to make a run for it in his condition. From the look of the thing growing ever closer to where we cowered in the Jeep, I thought it was likely we didn't have much time before it got close enough to hear our breathing, our heartbeats, or whatever, even inside the four by four. When that happened, I knew what would come next. Billy closed his eyes a moment and turned to me. There was something in his eyes then, some sort of acceptance that I didn't like one bit. Get ready with that cannon, he whispered,

You're only going to get one chance at this. What are you talking about? I asked. A moment later, I had my answer. Billy took a deep breath and mustered every bit of his strength, flinging the door open and staggering out of the Jeep. I'm right here. He shouted at the thing, limping weakly across the road away from the Jeep. The mimic whipped its head in his direction instantly, but tilted its head to the side, seemingly momentarily puzzled at this unexpected turn of events. Billy held his own magnum in his hand, but he was too weak to raise it towards the beast. Still, he pulled the trigger and a resounding boom-seeked. seemed to shake the air. The mimic flinched at the deafening sound of the shot, the membrane at its snout snapping shut protectively, but its stunned hesitation didn't last very long. In an instant,

faster than I would have thought possible, it launched itself on powerful limbs at Billy, knocking him to the ground and going at him with teeth and claws. I heard my friend start screaming then, a horrible, soul-rending sound that I'll never forget as long as I live, but now was my chance and I took it. I swung the door and stepped out of the jeep, my gun coming free of its holster and the same movement. The creature was preoccupied with what was left of Billy, but as soon as I brought the gun up and thumbed back the hammer, its head whipped around at me. It crouched like a compressed spring as it prepared to launch, but I was quicker. The report of the shot was incredible, and the recoil of the powerful round rocked my wrist back painfully. The beast staggered and I saw a burst of

red explode from near where its shoulder met its neck. It howled out an otherworldly cry, sounding like a bedlam mixture of man and beast, but though the wound seemed terrible, it tried once again to throw itself at me. I was set in my course, though, and took step after step towards the creature, pulling the trigger again and again until the gun ran dry, and all I was left with was the clicking of the hammer, and the high-pitched ringing in my ears. The acrid smell of gunpowder stunned my nose, and by the time I finally stopped, I found myself within only a few feet of the terrible thing. Six blackened holes stippled the neck and torso of the creature where the shots had entered,

and I knew that the destruction of their exits on the opposite side would be far worse. The mimic lay across Billy Johnson, its weight crushing what whatever had been left of my friend. Black red fluid spread out from beneath the thing, like an oil spill across a smooth floor. I noted with some muted surprise that the creature still twitched and slowly flexed its powerful muscles, and a wheezing sound was quietly emanating from the top of its head. I holstered my empty handgun and scanned around the sodden ground for what I knew was there. A moment later I spotted it. Billy's own magnum, laying half buried in the muck where it had been torn from his grip under the weight of the monster.

I snatched it up and shook it clear of most of the mud and grass. Opening the cylinder, I saw that only one unfired round remained. That was enough. I approached the thing before me without apprehension or pause. my eyes focused on this thing that had caused such pain and terror. I thumbed the hammer back and placed the muzzle against the mimic, which still moved with some small remaining life. I didn't know if it would be able to heal from the wounds I had already inflicted.

Logic told me it was unlikely, but the silvery scar I had seen from Billy's previous encounter caused me to question everything I thought was possible. I felt the tremors from the creature vibrate through the gun as the barrel rested against its head, right between where its eyes should have been. I tense my finger on the cool steel of the trigger and the crack of the shot echoed through the forest. It was done.

But even as I walked back numbly to the Jeep and restarted the engine, I wondered if that was true. I thought back to the journal I had read, written more than 130 years before, and how it had alluded to tales of this creature going back long before then. As I drove the Jeep along the rough and winding service road, I wondered at the possibility that what we had, encountered was the only one of its kind, that this same beast had somehow terrorized cultures

separated from each other by great time and distance, spawning the legends that the author of the journal and his companions had pursued. It didn't seem likely, and now the door was open. For as long as I can remember, Christmas has been a big deal in my family. I suppose that's not all that's surprising. It is with most families after all. You'd have to be pretty cynical to not think of Christmas as a big deal. Unless, of course, it's for religious reasons, but that goes without saying. My point is, Christmas is a time to share love, give gifts, help your fellow human beings, and just be generally cheerful for no real reason. It's the most wonderful time of the year after all, right? That's why it's been hard for me over the years to explain why I hate Christmas.

Now before you assume that I'm just some miserable scrooge, let me explain. I'm all about the lights, Christmas carols, gift-giving, hell, I even have a few ugly sweaters in my closet. My reason for loathing this time of year is a little more complicated than that. You see, ever since I was a little kid I've always seen something every night on Christmas Eve. No, it's not Santa Claus or an elf or something stupid like that. What I see is kind of. I can't really explain it. It is the only word I can use to explain what this thing is. The first time I saw it, I couldn't have been older than seven or eight years.

old. I was standing in the kitchen with my mom as she was finishing making some warm cinnamon buns before we opened a present on the night of Christmas Eve. It was a particularly dark night with not a single star in the sky. I was looking out our kitchen window into the forest behind our house, taking in the sweet smell of the cinnamon buns as my mom took them into the living room. I was about to turn and walk into the living room when I saw something. There was a figure in the darkness just outside of the woods, not a figure, but rather a mass, a dark mess. At first, I thought it was an animal, but the way it moved, it was as if it simply glided over the ground, while its dark mass rolled over itself. My young brain was an overdrive, trying to make

sense of what I was seeing. This was not an animal. It definitely wasn't human. What the hell was it? The more I stared, the more a creeping feeling of dread entered my heart. I began whimpering. I was so afraid and broken at that moment, then, suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was my mom. She turned me around and hugged me asking what was wrong. I couldn't speak. Words could not convey the pure unfiltered feeling of despair and terror that gripped my young heart. She brought me into the living room and sat me between my father and her, handing me my cinnamon bunce. After what felt like hours of being in their warm presence, I started to feel like myself again. The next morning I tried to tell my parents what I had seen, but they were skeptical.

They assured me it must have been an animal, maybe a deer. My dad took me outside to look for tracks, thinking he'd turn this into an educational moment. But much to his surprise, there were no tracks, even though it hadn't snowed the night before or that morning. He shrugged it off to my eyes playing tricks on me, and we went inside. After a few days, I had forgotten all about it. That was until, the following Christmas Eve. Now, let me just say I never believed in any of the hokey stuff, from a young age my parents were always honest with me about Santa, life, and all that.

I lost a grandparent when I was quite young, so death was a concept I understood in the feelings that came along with it. They also introduced me to the concept of fear pretty early on in the form of horror movies. They taught me that it was all fake. That these monsters or ghosts were just make-believe. I believe them too, which is what made this so much harder. The following Christmas Eve, I was sitting in the kitchen again, this time I was finishing a drawing I had worked on to give to my mother for Christmas. She was a sap for that sort of thing.

When I had finished, I stood up and stretched while casually glancing outside, and there it was. The dark mass, just outside of the trees, only this time it wasn't moving, it stayed perfectly still, aside from the dark mass that seemed to continue to flow and crawl all over itself. I couldn't look away, I was terrified, and yet I could. couldn't take my eyes off the damn thing. Slowly, that feeling of dread returned. I began to whimper as terror, pain, and despair entered my heart yet again. I started to shake. My whole body was beginning to feel numb. My legs gave out and I fell to the floor with a crash. My dad came running and as he was just in the other room and tried to figure out what had happened. I had no words to share with him. I just sobbed in his arms for a while. It took even longer this time for

the feeling of dread and my heart to leave. It wasn't until the the next afternoon and after a very long sleep that I felt like myself again. My parents were concerned, but they couldn't get a straight answer out of me. I didn't want them to think there was something wrong with me, so I didn't tell them about it. So every year, it's a similar story. The following year I decided to stay away from the kitchen, but I saw it outside of the living room window this time, just sitting there while its darkness seemed to crawl and ooze over itself. A couple of years after that, I just stayed in bed Christmas Eve night, but that was the worst because I saw it in my dreams, and when I woke up, I saw its shadow on the ceiling of my bedroom. No matter what I

did, I couldn't escape it, and the feeling that it would give me got worse every year. This thing haunts me every Christmas Eve, like a bad memory that I want to forget. Just when I think I was going to go a year without seeing it, there it was. After so many years, I guess you could say I got used to it. I would have that feeling of dread for days after, but it also left me. I'm on my own now, trying to make my way into the world. I have a modest first-floor apartment in a duplex, nothing special but it's mine. I stopped decorating for Christmas when I went away to college. I just didn't feel the need to celebrate anymore. No matter how hard I tried, once I saw it, my Christmas was ruined. That thing sucked all the joy right out of me, replacing it with a dark dread. Last year, however,

the feeling never left. All year round, I've been living with this constant despair in my heart and numbness in my body that I just can't explain. Food doesn't taste as good. Being around my family and friends doesn't give me the same joy it once did, and physical affection leaves me feeling worse than ever before. I simply feel a deep numbing despair. I know that it did this to me. I've had a lot of time to think and figure this out as I've been stuck up in my room waiting for Christmas Eve. The thing that has visited me every year on Christmas, Eve ever since I was a little boy. It is a hateful mirror of the world, a writhing massive people's darkness, fears, despair, and sadness. Yes, Christmas time is one of the happiest times for most people,

but for some, there's no worse time to be alive. It feeds off this, and it sucks the joy from you like a parasite. That's what it is, as to why it's doing it to me. I don't know, but I suspect all these years it's been feeding on me, and now I'm left with no joy of my own. Dodd, I miss being able to feel genuine joy. It's back now. Only this time it's right at my window, looking at me. It's a hideous writhing mass of darkness pressing against my window. It's hungry, I can feel it.

It wants to finish off what's left of me, of my joy, my good memories. I have so little left, I won't let it take them away from me. I will let it starve. My only hope is that after reading this, others will know that if it visits you on Christmas Eve, look away, fight it, and maybe there will be hope for you. Don't let it take your joy away. Don't let it numb you to the goodness in life. Don't let it turn you into me. Let it starve. To my parents, you were the best mom and dad I could ever ask for. I love you with all my heart. Please know nothing you could have ever done would have changed this and it's

not your fault. I won't let it take what little I have left. This is the only move I have left to fight it. So long. The snow first started falling at 9.30 p.m. on Christmas Eve. It was the first time I'd seen Mom smile in so long, and I mean really smile, not that fake smile that she puts on to try and tell me that everything is okay. This smile reached her eyes and would have kept on going all the way up to her Auburn hair if it was possible. She always put me first, no matter what. I'll never be able to repay her for that, shielding me from my demons and her own, which is why that smile on her face was better than any gift I'd find under the tree on Christmas morning. The white powder was just a little bit of

starting to gather on the ground as we headed off to bed an hour later. It was a pretty sound sleep that night. I'd long since outgrown the tossing and turning that Christmas brings. A few empty trees will do that to you. I know now that mom couldn't actually afford to spoil me the way that she wanted to, so anything was good enough for me. We woke up at 8 a.m., well, I got up at 8, and like any other self-respecting 17-year-old woman, I got into mom's bed. The furnace is on the fritz, okay. It's not like I want to share a bed with my mom, but the frost on the inside of my window was less than inviting. Eventually we headed down for breakfast and to swap presents. I had gotten mom some face masks and a relaxing candle. God knows she needed some relaxing in her life. She gave me an

eye shadow palette, which I was pretty happy with. Her stale old eye shadow was not ideal for practicing smoky eye with, but that's another story for another time. The snow had come down thick in the night, it must have been a foot deep at least. I'd never seen anything like it. Mom said it snowed this heavily maybe once or twice when she was a kid, so she was super excited too. We put breakfast on hold, well, sort of. Mom made me have my multivitamin and orange juice.

She said it's good for your immune system in the cold. Typical mom. The warm gear went on top of our PJs. Getting out into that snow was way more important than dressing ourselves. We made a snowman each. I went for the traditional stack. of big snow rounds with stick arms and a carrot nose. Mom, however, decided to get a bit maverick and tried to build a muscle man snowman.

What he lacked in definition he definitely made up for in mass, I'll give him that. Once the snowmen were built, the snow angels were made, and after that, the snowballs were thrown. We'd been out there for a good few hours when Mom had decided that my lips were a shade of blue she was no longer comfortable with, so we went in and tried our best to get warm. The rest of Christmas was pretty uneventful. We gorged ourselves on turkey and ice cream. We watched a few movies and played a few rounds of Uno.

Mom can get very, very intense with Uno, so I usually try to stop it after three rounds. Before we knew it, it was bedtime. Christmas was over for another year. At least we still had the snow to prolong the magic though. Warning came again. My sleep was fitful this time, tossing and turning, feeling unsettled, anxious, but unable to pinpoint why. Waking up feeling extra rough, stuffy nose and a scratchy throat, I looked at my window.

Surprise, frozen again. Only this frost was much harsher, angry even. Slowly getting out of bed, I walked over and tried to draw a smile with my finger on the glass. The ice was barely moved or melted to my touch, but before I could dwell on it too much my eyes wandered out to the lawn. The snow were still there, but with another foot of snow surrounding them and covering the tops of their heads. It was going to be a long day. Breakfast was on the more depressing side.

Mom couldn't get the stove to work, so instead of having a balanced meal of scrambled eggs, orange juice and a vitamin, it was slightly stale corn flakes with orange juice and a vitamin. Thank God for orange juice. We better hope the snow eases off a little tomorrow, kiddo. We need supplies, and these are running low. She said to me while shaking the bottle of vitamins,

I'm not sure what use they are if I still catch a cold, but it's important to her that I take them. So whatever, fights not worth it. We thought about building another snowman each to keep us entertained, but the door wouldn't budge. I don't know if the door itself was frozen or if the snow outside had frozen like concrete and was blocking us in. Whatever it was, neither of us were strong enough to brute force it, so we turned to the comforts of the grate in doors. By lunchtime I couldn't comprehend how bored I actually was. The TV was cutting out and I had no attention span for reading.

I ended up napping most of the day just to pass the time. After an indiscernible amount of time mom shook me awake, which I am slightly embarrassed to admit, I didn't take it too well. The stereotypical wide-eyed big gasp inward panic and then trying to brush it off. I don't think she bought it. Off upstairs we went for another fitful night of sleep.

There were no actual nightmares, but the snow kept on in my dreams. It was unending, surrounding me. Every direction I turned all I could see was a thick white sheet. I couldn't tell if I could make out any figures, but the anxiety I felt in the dream was so real. When I finally did wake up, I'd managed to carry that anxiety with me into consciousness, which was perfect. The window frost was as angry as yesterday. I thought about taking a hairdryer to it later on.

It couldn't be good for me living in a fridge. Blancing through the frosty panes, the snow looked thicker again. It didn't look like another foot, but it definitely looked solid. Mom was stood in the kitchen, orange juice invited, on the counter next to her. She was vacant. Her eyes were staring out the window, but I knew her mind was further away. Concerned. That's the best way I could describe it. I pulled the chair from under the table a little more loudly than I normally would. The noise roused her and she looked at me with a smile. A smile with painful eyes. She was definitely concerned.

It's not like the snow is that bad, and we have plenty of food stores. Enough for a week or so I'd say, Sure, we'd get sick of canned peaches, but we wouldn't starve by any means. She walked over to me, put a plate of toast down with the old faithful orange juice and half a vitamin. Keff, that was weird. I looked up at her. She could clearly see the confusion on my face. I'm sorry, sweetie. Looks like I won't be able to get more until the new year, so we'll have to ration them out. Okay, Mom, as long as you make sure you're taking some too, I don't want you getting sick in the cold. Funny, I don't remember actually ever seen Mom take her vitamins, but I also don't watch her every move. She probably took hers before I got up or something.

The power gave up completely that day until the late evening, so it was another day of snacking on Christmas chocolate and napping on the sofa. It was at this point where the day started to blur. Wake up, check the snow, breakfast routine, kill time until bed, sleep, or try to anyway, and then wake up and do it all again. After another night of interrupted sleep and dreams of the snow closing in on me, I woke up with my heart racing. But when I sat up, my head still felt weightless, like I was still dreaming. I decided that all I needed was a nice strong coffee to perk me up. Again, following my new routine, I looked out at the snow, same as it had been for days now. Turning away to head downstairs, I caught something out of the corner of my eye.

It was a snowman. Not our snowman. Another one. But this one was unsettling. It was tall and thin. It didn't have any features on its perfectly round head. Yet somehow it felt as though it was looking directly up into my window. It took some effort to tear my eyes away, definitely needed that strong coffee. The troubled sleep was catching up with me clearly. O'tmeal for breakfast today, supplies are definitely starting to dwindle. O.J. downed, vitamin swallowed, and oatmeal unenthusiastically eaten. It was time for coffee, pouring myself a nice big mug, I asked Mom why she made another snowman without waiting for me. She gave me such a

weird look and said the door was still frozen closed. At this I looked past her and out into the yard. One snowman, two snowmen, only two stood out there. Absolutely no sign of a third. No eerily perfect spherical head, no frozen sentinel staring up at me. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. I could feel Mom staring at me while I was looking out the window, no idea what her problem is. Regardless, I needed a good night's sleep. I tried to avoid napping from then on. I'd lost track of the days. I could quite easily look at a calendar or check a phone to find out, but I was starting to feel

a little disconnected from the world, with no inclination to actually seek the date or time. All I knew was breakfast time and when the snow dreams began. I took to drawing to fill the time, trying to draw the snowman from the morning, but I could never get the head right. It was never good enough, so I would scribble it out. and try again, getting more irritated every time I messed up. I stopped paying attention to Mom. She would ask me questions, but I could never make out the words.

I didn't want to. I needed to make the snowman. He deserved my full concentration. He deserved to be flawless. I snapped out of it when Mom snatched the pencil out of my hand. It was dark, time to rest. I was excited to rest. If I went to sleep, I might catch a glimpse of him again in the morning.

I went up to bed without saying a word to mom, didn't change my clothes or brush my teeth. I walked up the stairs and into my room, looked out the window, no snowman. Turning, I got into bed, shut my eyes, and drifted off within minutes. The dreams seemed to continue from where they left off, in a wide open space, or was it confined? It was so snowy, it was hard to tell. I couldn't see a foot in front of my face, but I could feel the presence of something. multiple things. There were faint outlines, tall figures, perfectly round heads. Moving yet unmoving, far away but claustrophobic at the same time. My heart was racing the whole time, only it wasn't

anxiety anymore. It was something different. The dream ended with no event. I was awake. It was morning. I didn't feel rested, but I wasn't tired either. I simply was awake. The routine started once more. I went to the window. There he was. No. There they were, several, tall and great with their perfect heads, staring up at me, worshipping me, adoring me. I needed to be with them. Walking silently down the stairs, I made my way to the back door. It pushed open with some effort. When I looked up through the open door, they were gone. Tears welled in my eyes. How could they? They invited me down to them and they vanish. I stooped down and grabbed a handful of snow and started to compact it together. If I couldn't draw them perhaps I could make one. I must have been out there for quite a while before mom came down. She sprinted over to me. Her words sounded muffled, like she was underwater. I was pulled inside and wrapped up. She was crying. I don't know why. I wasn't upset. I wasn't hurt. I just wanted to make them. I wanted to see them up close. She was babbling about sickness and apologizing, but I had never

felt better. I might not have felt much at all, but I had a purpose. She tried to feed them, me breakfast. Only a quarter of a vitamin today. She said there's only two more quarters left. When did she stop giving me halves? I didn't say anything. I didn't look at her. I swallowed the quarter and sat, staring out of the window until the sun sank into the sky. When the light had faded, I shuffled back up to my room, straight past the bathroom. I'd not been in there for days I thought to myself, but as quickly as the thought entered my mind it left again. There wasn't much room left for anything other than the perfect roundheads and their tranquil blank expressions. The dreams were much the same, yet every night it felt as though the figures were creeping closer. No, not creeping,

approaching. They wouldn't creep if they meant me no harm, surely. They offered me something, but what, I didn't know. There was no memory of waking the next morning. Licity found me standing at my window. They weren't there. I felt hollow, sick, alone. My imitations from the day previous, were still there, but it looked as if somebody had tried to tear them all down. Why would anyone do that? No, not anyone. Mom, she was the only one who could have done that. I felt the anger rise in my chest and the loss and pity for my broken snowmen strewn across the yard. I marched down to the back door. Mom was stood by it, putting something in her pocket. The door was locked. We never locked the door. There's no one around for miles. There was no need to lock the door. Why was she keeping me away

from them and them away from me. The anger was boiling to a point. I couldn't get out there to mourn for what I'd lost. She didn't get it, and she was keeping me from them. How could she? Another lapse in consciousness. I don't think I passed out. I think maybe the fog got too thick so that I couldn't see through it, but I was aware, or as much as I could be. I didn't know where mom was, or the key, but I stood in the bathroom. I must have been going to bed and took a wrong turn while in my haze. staring back at me was not my own. My face was blank. If it wasn't for the pain deep in my eyes, I would have looked tranquil. I turned and walked to my room. I couldn't hear any signs of mom, but then again, I don't think I was listening. I wasn't in control anymore. I only had thoughts

for one thing, and I was hoping to see them in my dreams. The dream was cold, colder than before. The snow wasn't as heavy. I could make out where I was. My garden. There was one tall snowman right in front of me. The head, perfect, not as tall as I thought it would be, but still taller than me. It was so cold. The dream felt so real. I felt so connected to the snowman. Enamored by its perfection, I wish mom could see how amazing it was. I wish she would just accept the beauty and its blank face. The dream was starting to wane. I felt grief. I didn't want it to end, but I was moving back towards the house and I couldn't stop. I was receding back inside my mind. The autopilot taking over. Vision was dark, black. I couldn't see anything. Was I sleeping? No. I could still hear in

frequent sounds. A loud bang. A clatter of objects. Something being dragged, the crunch of snow underfoot, but I felt nothing. I saw nothing. It was bright outside. I was lying on my bed, freezing. My socks were wet, feet freezing. I felt a bit more like me. Once the dreams had ended, I must have gotten real sleep. For the first time I was. maybe a week. It was hard to keep track of time. I sat up, changed into dry clothes. Why were my PJs so dirty? Leaving the room I glanced out of the window. One of them was out there, standing next to our snowmen, my stack of rounds and mom's muscle man. Mother, I couldn't remember speaking to her the day before, calling out to her with my eyes still glued to the snowman. Silence. No answer at all.

She was probably in the kitchen. It took everything I had within me to tear my eyes from the snowy figure. It didn't look right. The head wasn't perfect. It was barely taller than me. It filled me with unease. The staircase was littered with scraps of paper, circles at the top of tall bodies, no single circle being close to right. Making my way to the kitchen, the trail of paper continued. The kitchen was empty. No sign of mom. No orange juice. No vitamins. I couldn't truly. remember my last vitamin dosage, hoping I wouldn't get sick my eyes drifted to the back door. The curtain was torn down. The key in the lock but the door ajar, dirty tracks leading in and out. I walked to the door and pushed it open fully. The tracks lead over to the snowmen. The tall one was still there, stood proud, although its shoulders seemed to stoop. It wasn't standing straight and proud like the ones in my dreams. It was leaning slightly forward with the not perfect head bowed over. Transfixed on the snowman, I start to feel the fog come over me again. Only this time I'm filled with dread. Heart racing. Hands sweating. Throat is dry. Eyes wide open, approaching the figure,

stopping a few feet away, staring. It stared back at me. The blank face is not perfect, nor is it tranquil. It does not match what was in my dreams, but I can't look away. Eyes locked on a feature that figure had in my dreams or visions, not captured in any drawing, on the top of the not perfect head. A lock of Man's Auburn hair. I wanted to share my story with you, since it was really creepy and it happened to me a couple days ago. I'm not the type of person who gets scared easily, but this incident really freaked me out. So a little backstory about me. I'm a 19-year-old female, and I live by myself.

I'm pretty much a home person, and I like spending time by my life. myself. I usually spend my time hanging with my two cats, writing, reading, and listening to music. But that night I was really bored and wanted to do something so I decided to go out and hang out at the city center of my city. I lived 10 kilometers away from the center so I decided to take a bus because the day had been really cold and it has snowed so I couldn't really use my bike. I left my house around 5 p.m. and arrived to the center at about 6.30 p.m. I headed to the mall and checked out a couple new shops that had opened and looked for inspiration for Christmas presents. I also wanted to go check out another smaller mall nearby, so I started making my way in there.

It was really cold when I got out again and it had started snowing, so I decided to take a shortcut through another smaller mall, which had pretty much been empty for quite a while and had only one grocery shop. The place was empty, so I started to make my way through. After five meters, I noticed someone standing in front of me. From my first glance, it looked like a middle-aged man just standing there, looking blankly ahead. I didn't really think anything of it, because maybe he was cold also and wanted to warm up, so I just continued to walk. After walking for a little bit, I think the man heard me coming because he turned around

and started looking at me. Again, I didn't really think anything about it. But when I got closer, I saw the man's face and kind of got spooked. He had a really dirty face, with little scars on. all over and really big eyes. He was really tall and skinny and his stance was a little crooked. However, I decided to ignore it and just wanted to quickly pass him since I already saw the exit door, but when I passed him and accidentally made eye contact, I was scared. He started humming what sounded like a lullaby and had the most sinister smile across his face from year to ear.

I quickly looked away and almost sprinted to the exit door. I didn't look back until I was at the other mall. I was creeped out but thought to myself that it was just some drug user or a drunk guy since they were really common in that part of town. I spent some time at the other mall, soon forgetting this incident. Time went by really fast and at around 8.30 p.m. I decided to go buy some food and head home. I went to the mall's grocery store and bought supplies for a salad and made my way to the checkout. The lines were long and since there was only one checkout open, I had to wait for a little for my turn. When it was my turn, I started paying,

and while waiting for the cashier to count and hand me my change, I glanced to the exit door at the mall. That's when my heart sank. That same man was standing there watching me and smiling. I felt my heartbeat fasten and quickly packed my stuff up and walked past him out the doors without looking at him. I went to my bus stop to wait, since it was supposed to be there in like five minutes.

The stop was really packed to my surprise since it was kind of late and usually the bus was really empty. However, I put my headphones on and started to listen to music not really paying attention to my surroundings until the bus came. I was pretty much the last person to step in the bus because I waited a little further away

from everyone else, and by the time I got in, all the seats were taken, so I had to stand at the middle of the bus. The trip went by real fast since I was listening to my jams and kind of zoning out. When my stop came, I stepped out and started walking towards home. From the stop to my house is like 20 meters, so not that bad.

Some other person also jumped off at the same stop after me and walked like 10 meters away from me. When I got to the house complex door, I glanced back to see if the other person was my neighbor so I could hold the door open for them, because it was not uncommon for me to be on the same bus with my neighbors for some reason. However, I didn't see anyone and decided to enter to the hall and make my way to my door. I heard a loud noise coming from the main doors. Like someone with force tried to yank the door open. I almost went there to check it out, but something didn't feel right.

I entered my house and double checked that the door was locked. My apartment windows are facing the road you need to walk to get to the apartments, so I checked the road if I saw someone, maybe my neighbor at the door or something. I didn't see anyone at the door anymore, so I started to unpack my stuff. After unpacking, I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and glanced to the road, only to see a shadowy figure standing there. I got this uneasy feeling in my stomach and decided to close my blinds since I live in the first floor and you can see inside my apartment from the street. After having a drink, I went to the living room to watch TV and passed out since I was really tired. I woke up at 11.30 p.m. to this weird noise coming from my balcony.

I thought it was some teenagers once again throwing snowballs to the balcony window because it wouldn't be the first time. I got up and went to the kitchen where my balcony door was and peeked through the blinds and what I saw made my skin turn cold and turn my stomach upside down. It was the same man from the mall, knocking at my balcony window and smiling. I stepped away and reached to my phone in my pocket to call the police. I think the man saw me peeking because I could faintly hear him humming his lullaby and saying I saw, saw you already. There's no point to hiding. Come on out. I just want to ask you something. I was so scared I felt like I was going to throw up. I called the police and still could hear the man knocking. I didn't move. I didn't make a sound. I stood there, holding back tears and waiting for the police

for what felt like hours. After 10 minutes, he stopped knocking and let out a scream. Then it all just stopped. No noise. No knocking. Nothing. I heard a car turn up to the parking space and peaked again. It was the cops, and I made my way out to the front of the house to give a description about the man and told them what happened. The police said that they would check out the area, but it was possible that the man had ran to the forest nearby to get away. They left, but said they would come back if they found something. After it all, the police found nothing. There was nothing they could do at that point. They told me to call again if he appeared. The fact that none of my neighbors were around or none of them heard or saw anything made it more difficult.

It was probably just some junkie stalker, and only God knows what would have happened if the glass window on my balcony was open, and my balcony door unlocked. Needless to say, this really creeped me out and makes me think twice before leaving my house, alone after dark. It was a dark and stormy night when I set out on my hiking trip through the dense and remote woods of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. I had been planning this trip for weeks, and despite the ominous weather, I was determined to see it through. As I trudged through the muddy trails, the rain pounding down on my hooded jacket, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I tried to reassure myself that it was just my imagination, but the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and a shiver ran down my spine. As I hiked deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to close in around me, blocking out what little light the stormy sky provided. The trail had become nearly unrecognizable, and I found myself relying on my compass and the faint glow of my headlamp to navigate through the dense foliage.

It was then that I heard the first howl. It was a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. I froze in my tracks, trying to listen for any other signs of movement. The howling grew louder and more frenzied, and I knew I had to keep moving. I picked up my pace, barely able to see more than a few feet in front of me. My heart was pounding in my chest as I stumbled through the underbrush, trying to put as much distance as possible between myself, and whatever was making that terrifying sound.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me. I spun around, my headlamp swinging wildly, but all I could see were the trees and the driving rain. I took off running, my feet pounding the muddy ground as I tried to outrun whatever was chasing me. I couldn't see where I was going, but I knew I had to keep moving. As I stumbled through the darkness, the howling grew louder and more frenzied. It seemed to be coming from all around me, and I knew that whatever was making that sound was getting closer. I was panting and gasping for breath when I finally saw a glimmer of light in the distance. I redoubled my efforts,

pushing myself to the limit as I sprinted towards the light. As I burst through the trees and into the clearing, I skidded to a halt, my heart racing. I was face to face with a pack of skin walkers. They were tall and lean, with long, sharp claws and glowing yellow eyes. Their fur was matted and covered in mud, and their snarling mounds were filled with sharp teeth. I stood there, frozen in fear, as the skin walkers closed in around me. I knew I was no match for their strength and speed, and I braced myself for the attack. But then, just as they were about to strike, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. The skinwalkers howled in pain and scattered, disappearing into the darkness. I stood there, shaking and panting, as the storm raged on around me. I knew I had to get out of

there, but I was too terrified to move. It was only when the rain began to ease and the howling stopped that I summoned the courage to turn and flee. I ran as fast as my trembling legs would carry me, not stopping until I reached the safety of my car. As I drove away from the dark and stormy woods, I knew I would never forget the terrifying encounter with the skin walkers, and I vowed never to venture into those woods again. I have a small scar directly above my right eyebrow. It's not noticeable anymore, but when I was younger people always asked me about it. I was inspired to write this when I told the story to my girlfriend, and she pointed out something strange with how I remember it. As a kid, I had a series of dreams and experiences from when I was six to

about eight years old. I would get in bed and sometime after midnight I would wake up. I remember it being strange because I didn't wake up for a specific reason. I was just awake. After a few minutes, a bright white light would appear outside. It wasn't like daylight or artificial light. It was a brighter pure white light. It didn't hurt my eyes and I could look right into it. I think this was one of the reasons I always assumed it was a dream. I never moved in these experiences either. I would just sit under my covers and watch. After the light came a shadow, moving towards my window, it would stand there for a moment completely motionless, casting a strange silhouette on my wall.

After this, it would push its hands against my window. The glass would seem to vanish as the being slipped into my room. It would always stand in the corner next to my bookshelf. It had a tall, thin body having to crane its neck forward as it stood in my corner watching me. Its body had no discernible joints making it move and appear like it was made of wire. Its movements were slow and deliberate almost stiff. After a while I would just fall back asleep. I remember I was never really scared of them.

They didn't do anything scary and they almost felt familiar. I think as a kid I just assumed this was a normal thing and since I was never hurt or startled in any way, it came off as mundane or uninteresting. The same as if my dad were to open my door and check on me while I was. playing. The last time I was ever visited, everything happened like normal, not that any of this could be considered normal, but I remember feeling scared as the being approached he looked more sinister than usual. Looming over me, the face of this being, they had very large round eyes that almost protruded from their head. The eyes were a pure glowing white dotted

with tiny black specks, almost like a cube bow. The rest of the face was all mouth, In lieu of teeth they had a large forest of Baline, appearing as a gaping maw with millions of hair teeth. The general shape and layout of the face was similar to an owl. I should point out that no noise was ever made during these experiences. It made no sounds as it walked and the room was silent in general. Tonight was different. Have you ever heard that bugle sound that elks make?

We see them up here during rut and it's a very interesting sound. Imagine that but slightly smoother, shifting between all different tones and a very different tones in a rhythmic pattern. This was the sound the creature made. But it wasn't loud, it was as if the sound were fake or played from a speaker right next to my head. I couldn't feel the sound if that makes sense, like I imagined it or something. Without coming closer the being extended a large branch like arm. The arm made it three quarters across the room and the rest of that distance was covered when it unfurled the long fingers of its previously clenched fist. The index finger, the longest of what was possibly 10 to 12 fingers slowly went closer to my face.

On the tip I could see balanced what looked like a small iridescent piece of glass, rainbow light shimmering across its surface. I remember it reminding me of my mother's engagement ring. I couldn't move out of fear as the rest of the fingers gently gripped my face. They felt light in air as if they were barely there. It felt more like a force than a physical touch. The finger with the glass pressed onto my forehead softly and I remember a burning pain.

I can't recall if I had Winston pain at the time, but remembering it now I cringe thinking about it. There was no blight. I remember touching the spot after and it feeling hot and tender like a burn. The bugle still droned on through this process and I began to almost understand it. Suddenly, I could hear the words and the tones

but they didn't make sense. There were hundreds of words and as a small child I couldn't understand any of them. Azoic. Supuration. Iker, irrevocable, derelict, verse where, wevery, are a few I remember. There was no series just single words, hundreds of them.

Then like nothing had happened the being left, my parents didn't believe my story about the small scar. They told me it was a dream and I was hesitant to believe them. It became a fear of mind to see them again. Over time, however, I dismissed it as a dream and mostly forgot about this incident. until I was about 14 and I learned about sleep paralysis and the strange visions people have. That was it for me. I had my explanation and it satisfied me for years. I recently told this story to my girlfriend and she pointed out that in these sleep paralysis

dreams the figures never usually do anything. They'd usually stay still or hold you down but they don't touch you like that. I found this information alarming and decided to post my story here while I search for answers and related experiences. I grew up in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, surrounded by the rolling hills and dense forests of the Appalachian Mountains. My parents were farmers, and I spent my days working the land and exploring the woods around our farm. I knew these woods like the back of my hand, and I never felt afraid while wandering among the trees. But on this particular night, something felt different.

The air was heavy with a sense of foreboating, and the animals were silent, as if they were hiding from some unseen danger. I had been searching for a missing goat all day, following its tracks through the woods as I called out its name. The goats were invaluable to our small farm, and I knew my parents would be devastated if anything happened to it. As the sun began to set, I reluctantly decided to head back home and continue the search in the morning. The moon was full and high in the sky as I made my way through the dense and quiet woods, its pale light casting shadows among the trees. But as I made my way through the woods, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I had heard reports of coyotes in the area, and their eerie howls echoed through the trees at night.

I quickened my pace, my heart racing as I imagined the sharp teeth and glowing eyes of the predators stalking me through the darkness. At first, I told myself it was just my imagination, but then I heard a rustling in the underbrush, and I knew I was no longer alone. I turned to face the source of the noise, and that's when I saw it. A creature with the body of a wolf and the face of a demon, its skin stretched tight over bones and sinew. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and its lips were pulled back in a snarl that revealed sharp, needle-like teeth. I froze in place, my heart racing with fear as the creature stalked closer and closer. I could smell its putrid breath as it filled my nostrils, and I could smell the rank stench of its wet, hairless flesh. And then, with a primal scream of terror, I turned and ran.

I could hear the creature behind me, its claws scratching at the ground as it closed the distance between us. I could feel its breath behind me, could hear its guttural growls as it drew closer and closer. I don't know where it came from or what it wanted with me. All I knew was that I had to get away, had to find safety before it was too late, so I ran, my feet pounding the ground as I fled from the terror that lurked in the shadows. And eventually, I emerged from the woods, my heart racing and my breath going in gasps. Even now, as I sit safely at home and look out at the peaceful moonlit landscape, I can't shake the feeling that something is out there, waiting for me in the darkness.

The memory of that night will stay with me forever, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurk in the shadows. I was out on a routine job patrolling a remote area of the park when I saw it. The small but unmistakable opening of a cave. Since it wasn't on any of the maps and it was my job to check things like that out, I wasted no time in taking out my flashlight, and heading towards the smaller but manageable cave opening that was wide enough for me to step through without having to crouch down. The cave was situated in a clearing close to a pond. The opening was located right in the middle of a wall of sandstone and was fairly unremarkable looking.

No sign that it was dangerous or out of the ordinary. Since the opening was barely wide enough for several people to step through, that meant the cave had never been turned into a mine. There was also no garbage lying around or any other traces of recent human activity, so for all I knew, I was the first human being to set foot in this cave in who knows how long. The feeling came with a sense of exhilaration I'd never felt before. So I took a deep breath, switched on my extra strength flashlight, and steadily started walking inside.

My first few steps in the cave were beyond cautious. Aside from the fact I'd never been here before, the terrain was very steep. You could feel it slowly descending further. into the earth. Since I didn't want to lose my footing and go tumbling down, I kept casting the flashlight beam around. Because despite the intense glaring light it provided, the darkness in the cave was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I'd been in the forest at night many times, but this far exceeded that. This darkness was dense. After enough careful steps, the descent became smoother and the floor leveled out. The cave floor itself was rough in some spots and smooth in others. You could tell where the

elements had weathered away parts of the land and made a smoother path to walk. The temperature had also dropped significantly down here and I could now see the many impressive stalactites and stalid mites dotting the cave. The rough descent had been replaced by a fairly even path straight forward, but there wasn't a ton of space to walk around here. A small group of people could squeeze through, but no more than that. My boots occasionally crunched on gravel, but apart from that, the cave floor was empty, almost completely clean.

Seeing how untouched the cave was, it can't help but make you feel like an insignificant speck in the vast scheme of the universe. The cave was not only far older than I was, it would be here long after I was gone, especially because the cave seemed endless. The more I explored, the more I got the sense that I was making no progress at all. A look at my watch told me I'd been down there for about an hour when the narrow path opened into a massive chamber, and the sight made me gasp. The entire space was filled with water and the walkway served as a makeshift bridge to the other side.

The walls were rough-hewn and jagged virtually everywhere you looked. There had been plenty of impressive stalactites in the cave, but the ones dangling from the ceiling here were massive. So precise and sharp looking it seemed impossible that they had occurred naturally. Some of them were practically touching the water that filled the space. I had no idea how deep the water was, but in the thick darkness it looked unnervingly deep. the walkway that went from one side of the cavern to the other got rougher here, but it still looked as steady and weathered as before. So, being more careful of where I stepped than ever, I slowly began to cross the cavern.

I was almost halfway across when I heard the sound of a rock-hitted cavern wall and splash into the water. The sound in the empty space seemed so incredibly loud, I almost jumped. Once I was sure of my footing, I carefully shined the flashlight around to check. There was nothing. signs that anything at all had happened. But on this job, you learn that just because everything looks fine doesn't mean nothing is going on.

The hair standing up on the back of my neck told me everything I needed to know. I didn't dare take another step forward. If anything, I was slowly adjusting my footing to turn back around. I was just about to go back the way I came when I heard it. The sound of whispered voices. At first, I had no idea what it was. I hadn't heard a single sound before now, aside from my sound. own footsteps. Ignoring the chill slowly washing over me, I slowly began to walk back across

the cavern. I'm not sure if it was just my imagination, but as I did, the whispering got louder. The creepiest part was how the voice seemed faintly familiar. Not enough so I recognized it, but enough that it was unsettling. The worst part was that I had absolutely no idea where the voice was coming from. The acoustics of the cave made it seem like the voice was both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I was almost completely across the cavern when I cast my flashlight around and saw it. There, on the left side of the cavern in the middle of the dark water was a shadow. With my heart pounding in my chest and the grip on my flashlight slick from sweat, I carefully turned and aimed the beam directly at it. The water illuminated was a murky gray,

but the shape was as dark as it had been without the flashlight. I had no idea what the shape was. It was completely solid, but it wasn't any sort of animal, and it didn't look remotely human. It just hung there, floating just below the surface. If there had been the slightest suggestion of human activity here, I'd say it was garbage, a blanket, or some clothing that fell in the water. But I knew that wasn't the case. The sight made my stomach clench. But then, with my flashlight still aimed right at it, it disappeared.

There was no movement or any disturbance in the water. It just vanished. That was my cue to leave. Once I was safely across the cavern and on solid ground, I ran out of there as fast as I could. Due to the numerous rock formations I had to maneuver around, it seemed to take an eternity. I periodically checked behind me to make sure there was nothing there, and while there never was, I could never shake the feeling that something was watching me. After what seemed like a painfully long time, I finally arrived back at the cave opening. Then came the difficult task of maneuvering what was essential.

an uphill climb. By now I was drenched in sweat and the climb did nothing to help that, but taking care with where I stepped, I eventually was standing at the mouth of the cave with daylight shining through. I gratefully walked out into the sunshine and looked down into the cave. As I did, I swear I saw a figure walk past on the cave floor below, but when I looked back, it was gone. Once I caught my breath, I radioed the cave discovery into the station and some other rangers came out to check it out. One of them was my supervisor, Jack. I told them I didn't see anything, but one look at me and my demeanor told them something was up. Jack was no stranger to the unusual things park rangers can encounter on the job, so with him and the other two rangers listening,

I told them what I saw and experienced down in the cave. When I was done, Jack sat there quietly for a moment. Doesn't matter if it's 2022 or 1822, things still go bump in the night. He in his deep, steady voice. I don't disagree. I muttered. I'm sure you don't, Wade. I won't pretend I saw what you saw, but I believe you saw what you saw. Nature can be, and often is, a very scary place. No kidding. One of the other rangers agreed. There's a reason this cave looked so untouched by people. No sign of animals either. None. Jack shook his head at that. That's the sign something is off. Animals don't go near something. That means people shouldn't either. So we'll mark this cave as dangerous, go back to base, and lob the find. Now let's get out of here.

I went camping out at Trinity Lakes this October in Idaho. My brother and his mom's family told me how great it was out there. I figured if we went on a weekday that late into this year, we could be alone. Truly be out on a nature experience after doing nothing but stay in the city for the past few years. What I was not told was that the road out there was a two-hour crawl through dirt roads. The final 10 miles of which are practically animals trails on the edge of mountains. It is a very rough trip in a big F-250. Red flag number one in hindsight. But by the time the roads got that bad, we were so far and I was committed.

We would do this, and it would be a unique experience for both of us. I eat those words. When we finally made it to the first camp ground area on the smallest lake, we just wanted to get out of the truck and couldn't take much more bone-shaking rock crawling. So we did that, meaning we were in a different spot than were him and that side of the family had camped farther up at the big lake. Everything with the setup was standard, and we had gotten what we wanted. We were completely alone, only the fire watch tower two miles back, and over a mountain if anything went wrong. This should have been red flag number two, but we figured we had enough gear and knowledge if a bear or cougar came along.

Another important thing was the rules of that area saying no guns. So we didn't bring one, not even as a last resort kind of tool. Red-Flyde number three. Not one hour after setting up camp all the way, I hear a snap off on the other side of the empty campground while me and him are talking. He doesn't notice, but I look back and see two giant antlers. I knew what it was immediately. I rushed him quietly into the truck, and a big bull moose sprints into view behind the truck. We did not know there were moose out there, and they had not seen any when camped at the main lake grounds earlier in the year.

We were not that scared because he ran off immediately after we got some good footage of him by the lake. We just thought it was a rare chance encounter and were kind of in awe at the experience. I knew how crazy dangerous moose are but never bothered researching the details on their behavior or anything like that. Dig mistake not immediately packing everything and getting out while we would still have enough daylight too. We hop out of the truck, make sure he's long gone, and continue our now much cooler nature trip relaxing and taking photos. Almost three hours later, I hear that same kind of cracking, but a lot more of it and it's approaching our campsite quickly. We are not close enough to the truck with how fast it's coming, so I pull my brother into the tent and just stay perfectly still. I didn't even want to breathe as five or more moose with two bulls that seemed to be chasing each other around sprinted past our campsite on both sides.

We could only see out the front flap of the tent and determine whereabouts outside of that from the footsteps and what I assume were mating calls. This time, we were not so excited about it. Nearly crapping bricks and just praying when we got out of the tent that there wouldn't be a lurking moose that hadn't gone with the rest of them. There wasn't, but now there was not enough light left to pack everything and get out safely. We no longer felt safe and were constantly on edge knowing at any moment. We may need to get to the truck and have to be aware. The plan was now to pack up as soon as morning broke and we just had to make it till then.

When night came, we actually relaxed again. again. Thinking that with a fire up and it being night, surely we were done with any possible moose in the area. We just wanted to eat and smoke our cigars around the campfire. We had our fire going strong, ate our food, and had our cigars ready. However, we needed a bit more firewood to last for our smoke before bed, so we made a small trip. It was pitch black in that forest even with our eyes adjusted. The second we got away from camp to the area we had been gathering from, me and him were both on edge again. We just got that feeling like something was watching us, just on the edge of the light from my phone. So we hurried up, scurried back to the campsite

like you just turned off the stairs light, and breathed a sigh of relief. The fire was safe, nothing was out there, everything, was fine. Then, the bone-chilling crunch of one of the thick branches we had dropped in our hurry, just on the edge of the firelight, directly behind us. Every single instinct and reactionary fiber in my being activated right then. The only word I plainly and coarsely told my brother was, PUR. I had already made two strides to the truck, my brother told me after the fact. The way that word left your mouth took me out of freeze mode. It was the most direct, fear-induced command I've ever received. To both our horror, the truck had auto-locked, the one or two seconds it took for me to fumble the keys out of my tight wrangler pockets and

hit that button felt like hell. We jumped into the truck and I scrambled over him as he slammed the door to fling the headlights on. Right there, right in front of the fire we had just been standing at Ebo, staring the truck down, but the part that makes this all so much more messed up. He didn't look like a normal moose. The fur was all patchy and it looked discolored, like he was rotting on the outside, but still easily taller than the lifted truck. I watched him slowly walk out of the headlights back into the darkness while staring at us. I turned off the lights immediately so our eyes could adjust, and we could see around the truck at least. We were freaking out and filled with adrenaline still but doing so quietly. Neither him nor I can agree on if these next occurrences were just a shared

paranoia or not. For nearly an hour at 10 p.m. in the night, we heard heavy footsteps just slowly moving big circles around the truck. Eventually, we stopped hearing anything at all, and the forest was completely silent. We cracked the windows to make sure. deafening silence. No bugs, no frogs, no owls, nothing. We sat there in additional 30 minutes listening for anything at all but still silence.

Neither of us wanted to do it, but all our warm gear was in the tent and it was dropping to 28 that night. We would not fare well in just our normal clothes. So slowly we opened the doors and started to sneak to the tent. The moment we did, footsteps on my side of the forest coming towards us.

Both of us fly back in the truck, clicking the lock button like maniacs. I couldn't take it anymore. I nearly lost my cool, but knew I had to keep it for my brother's sake too. It was stalking us. Is it even a moose? Moose don't do this.

It's almost midnight what is happening. We kept throwing these statements around to each other, trying to rationalize what we were experiencing and how our nice escape from the city had turned into a horror movie, with the unnatural look of the moose that we thought had been keeping us trapped in the truck for an hour and a half. We started talking about it being a skin walker even. Some might think this would freak us out more, but starting to make things a supernatural event and joking in our dark sense of humor is what helped us calm down. We were still shaken to our

core though, and the fear was stronger than the bite of the cold that was setting in. No way in hell were we leaving that truck again until it was morning, and we could see. He managed to fall asleep at around 12.30, but the forest was still dead silent, and it put dread in me. It wasn't until nearly two that all of a sudden, crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. The normal forest sounds came back, and I had stayed up until the temperature reached its bottom for the night. I turned the heater on full blast for a few minutes to stop the unbearable chill so I could sleep, waking up and repeating that every 45 minutes to keep us warm until morning.

Then I opened my eyes to light and shook him awake. We packed in 15 minutes and left. I'm not a story writer, so I'm sorry if this is a sloppy read, if anyone reads this long post at all. But nothing has striked such a primal fear in me ever. I've had guns pointed at me, other dangerous encounters with animals. None of those compared to the terror this incident caused. I fear going into the woods at all or going camping again.

The world is filled with tales of strange creatures that share this world with us. Myths, legends, tall tales, and urban legends. Stories told around a campfire at night to a disbelieving audience. Despite all the stories, most people seem to dismiss them. Occasionally something turns out to be true, like the giant squids. But in a time of cameras and phones everywhere, it seems hard to believe any of the bazaar could be out there unrecorded. Maybe in the depths of the ocean or the most isolated spots in the Amazon.

But not around civilization. Not in the places humans call home. I used to believe the same. I used to be a skeptic who didn't believe in anything that didn't have a scientific article behind it. I wish that were still true, because ever since I found out about what really exists out there, I haven't had a night of good sleep. Let me explain. I'm not putting my name out there, but you can call me Robin for convenience,

and I was born in a small town 22 years ago. I won't say what it's called or where it is. It's not my place to give away the information of others. Suffice to say it was an ordinary town surrounded by thick forests, endless meadows, and giant farms hosting God knows how many cows. My childhood was dull and uneventful. I got a normal family with my two siblings and a small neighborhood with just enough kids to have play dates with.

I didn't have many friends and my relationships with my siblings. were strained, but I wasn't lonely much. After high school I went to a big city university, got a degree in something I'll probably never use, and made my parents proud. My parents had messaged me less and less over my four years at college, and the last two years they got me an apartment that I stayed in over the summers as well. Any time we got together those last two years they came to me. I didn't think much of it. I was never the most observant when it came to people. It was when I decided to go home the summer after my degree that they panicked. They didn't ban me from coming home, but they hinted I should stay away. I came anyway.

It hurt that it seemed they didn't want me at home. Now I know they were protecting me. That's when it all started. The first thing I noticed was the emptiness. My hometown was never the liveliest place and it had its fair share of poverty, but the people there were happy for the most part. Kids chilled out, adults went to the bar and people enjoyed their honest work. It was dull to me, but to those who liked the quiet life, it was a lovely place. You could always see people walking around downtown, and the hot spots for getting together usually had people there. None of that was the case now.

Everywhere was all but deserted, employees that used to wave hello stayed inside. The hangouts were empty, and even the bar only had a small handful of drunks. From the moment I crossed the county line to when I pulled into the driveway, the number of people I saw not working could be counted on one hand, even though it was a weekend afternoon. I found it a bit odd, but I was focused on getting home. As I parked in my driveway, I noticed the second odd thing. Most of the neighborhood had overgrown grass. The once-neet lawns were filled with weeds, and some of the dry grass was reaching the height of my knees. That got me suspicious, it being a sacred American tradition to keep your front lawns as neat and green as possible.

I looked past it in my excitement to get home. I knocked on my door. I heard footsteps and then I saw my mother look through the bedroom window next to the entrance hallway, peaking at me. That was the third odd thing. For as long as I've lived at home, my parents have never checked who was at the door before opening it. Around here, only a few paranoid people did. That did get my nervous attention. Had something happened, a burglary, perhaps.

Whatever the reason, she gave a look. of what almost seemed like fear before closing the blinds and walking to the front hallway. The door unlocked and opened, my parents were both standing there and for a moment I saw sadness on their faces. Then they both hugged me and my problems were forgotten. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice to say the next few hours were what you'd expect from a family reunion. Lots of catching up and tearful hugs and a happy dinner when we weren't busy getting my things in order. The whole time my parents seemed somewhat subject. dude, but when I asked them what was wrong, they insisted everything was fine. I didn't believe

them, but I didn't push it. Nothing interesting happened until after dark when my parents and siblings went to sleep, and I stayed up in my room for a couple of hours reading a book. It started with a light. A bright white speck appeared in my window, casting a glare through that disturbed me while reading with only my nightstand light on. After a couple of minutes of the irritation, I got up to close the blinds in my room. That's when I saw the light outside the window. It was in the distance just above my backyard, and I couldn't make out what it was. All I could tell was that it was all but blinding when I looked directly at it. I made to close the blinds, but before I fully closed then, I saw the light get bigger. No, not bigger. Closer.

It must have been in the neighbor's large cattle farm to the back of our neighborhood, and it was slowly approaching. As it did, the light began to the light. began to change color, flickering from white to blue to yellow and then back again. And it became to dance, the ball twisting from side to side and floating in circles. I should have closed the blinds and been done with it. But I couldn't. I was mesmerized. I lost all thought as I spaced out, seeing double as the light danced differently in

each eye. I started to hear a whispered chanting, too soft to make out the words. There were at least two voices, maybe three. voices were harsh, growling like the wind. As the light got bigger, the voices got louder, until their chant was also being screamed in my ears. But they never changed from a whisper, and no matter how close it got I couldn't understand anything they said. The lights blinded my entire field of sight, the chant thundered into my ears. I saw nothing else, heard nothing else. It became everything. Then I blacked out and remembered nothing. The next moment I was conscious,

I was alone in a meadow with flowers and grass up to my waist. I felt rather than saw that, because it was near midnight in the middle of nowhere with only the moon and stars to illuminate the earth. I don't know if you've ever been far from civilization at night, but if you have you know it's all but impossible to see anything. So I had no way to see more than the nearby field and didn't hear anything except for distant crickets.

And I was utterly alone, with nothing on me but my clothes. I tried to stay calm. My breath heightened and I felt dizzy, but I forced myself to focus. It wasn't too cold out and I wasn't going to freeze. And in the darkness I'd have no idea where I was going, whether I was getting closer or farther to people. If I stayed where I was until morning, I could use the daylight to navigate back to some place I knew, or at least a road I could follow. So I sat down and did my best to avoid panicking.

Somewhere to the far front of me I heard rustling through the grass. I figured it was the wind, although I was. I felt no breeze. Then I heard footsteps. Loud, slow footsteps. Each one was a few seconds apart, and as they got louder, closer, the ground began to tremble. I panicked. I got up and ran to my back, not caring where I might arrive, but only concerned with escaping whatever was causing those footsteps. I stumbled and tripped in a few places, earning me scratches around my ankles. I didn't care. All I needed was to run, but no matter how fast I ran the footstuffs. I was to run. But no matter how fast I ran the footsteps just got louder. They never stepped up their cadence, yet they shrunk the distance to me.

I admit, at this point, I was crying. I had only faced situations like this in my nightmares. Suddenly the field brightened, and behind me I saw a white light. It didn't move or change colors, but somehow I could tell it was the same light from my bedroom window. The whispers returned, this time not in tune with each other, but each shrieking. Each scream sent a white bolt of pain through my head. I turned around again and the light was a little closer. I started to yell for help. Oh God, someone helped me, not original, but it was hardly the time for originality. From behind I heard what sounded like laughter, but in a deep, inhuman voice. I looked back and the light couldn't have been more than 30 feet away. The next time I looked 25. Then 20, I wailed into the night for help.

ahead of me I heard new noises and I saw a second light from close by. I stopped running for a second before sprinting to my left in the now-head high grass. Almost as soon as I switched I ran right into a third light. It was a flashlight. Behind it was a man I recognized. I'll call him Jin and he was the owner of a farm inside the county but a few miles outside town. He leaned down and offered a hand. Run now, he yelled.

I got up and followed him. The second light was the flashlight of his wife, who had brought a large cow by a rope around the neck. She threw the rope down and together the three of us ran. I heard a loud crack not even ten feet behind me and I looked back. I wish I hadn't. Some thing more than ten feet tall was standing right behind me. In front of it was a light attached to a long antenna hanging in front of its face. Its face was made of what looked like meat and bones mashed together.

It had no eyes, no nose, no ears. It had only a massive mouth hanging open and a mocking grin. Shattered bones served as teeth, going back into the darkness at the back of its mouth, and its body was the same, like raw meat and crunched bones all mashed together and packed tightly enough to allow for support. With one hand it grabbed the cow and lifted it up. Its head leaned forward and ripped the head right off. The cow gave a loud grunt of fear before its head was shattered, and the only sound was the

flesh and bones being ripped apart. With both hands it lifted the cow up above its head and tore it in half. Then it brought the cow parts in its left hand forward and began eating again. Come on, we have to go, Jim shouted. I realized I had been standing there in shock. I stumbled forward, turning slowly away from the thing and began running as fast as I could. After a while the footsteps started up again in the distance, but we had gained ground. The head I saw the porch light of what I assumed to be Jin's house. The three of us ran in before his wife slammed the door. I stopped to catch my breath and noticed all of the windows were shut in their house. Not only that, but every light was on and the TV was blaring noise. I could hear the footsteps no more. Are we safe? I asked, as safe as we can be

now, Jim replied, for some reason most of these things don't come in homes. They'll snatch you right up if you look outside, though. How do you get there in the middle of our field anyways? I explained to them everything I could. They seemed unsurprised by any of it, although they did look understandingly as I described my panic. While I did this gym made me a cup of hot coffee, which I thanked him for, after I was done explaining it was their turn. Dark things had begun to haunt the night a few years ago, they said. At first it was all rumors and tall tales few believed. Stories of being stranded in the dark, sleepwalking they thought, were seeing things creep along the farm to steal their cattle, coyotes, or other predators they thought. Then a couple of years ago

the first death occurred. Some man named Darren I had only heard of was found ripped into five pieces outside his home along the sidewalk. The concrete was cracked next to him. People thought a serial killer was on the loose, but over the next few weeks' disappearances and corpses appeared all over the county. More people reported seeing things outside in the night, and slowly but surely, people realized the night was haunted. Now nobody went outside when it seemed dark. People rarely went out in the day other than for necessities either, after a couple of children disappeared in broad daylight. People tried to get the word out, but nothing worked. No cameras or phones worked near anything odd, and any online mentions were quickly deleted or lost to the depths of the internet. The people of my home

county were isolated, scared, and dying. And now I was living with them. That morning, Jim drove me to my parents' house who had already called the police. Everything got under control, and I calmed down once I reached family in the daytime, but it hasn't stopped the nightmares. Ever since I got back, these past months things have been horrifying. I even tried to move back to my apartment first before finding out my landlord was evicting me. I'm searching for a new home, but who knows when that will work out.

In the meantime, I've done odd jobs around town and asked more questions. whatever was out there, and I heard a lot of ideas. Terrified me, but it also intrigued me. God forbid I'd be interested in something normal. I think I know what these things are. They are the creatures of legends, of myths and urban legends and spiritual traditions long since lost. The things that make us feel weak and alone.

The things that remind us we are not in control. I think they are coming back. Or maybe they never left and were just hiding or living elsewhere. But they were back in my home now, and everyone I loved was in danger. I don't know if anything is happening where you live. Maybe we're alone in this, maybe we aren't. But if you're luckier than us, just remember this the next you go somewhere alone in the dark. We are not alone anymore.

It was a dark and rainy day, the kind of one where you just want to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea. But I wasn't at home. I was out in the woods, hiking with a group of friends. We had planned this trip for weeks. and we were all excited to spend a few days exploring the beautiful wilderness. We had set up camp near a small stream, and we spent the afternoon fishing and swimming in the cool, clear water.

As the sun began to set, we gathered around the campfire to roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories. One of my friends, a Native American woman named Sarah, told us a story about skinwalkers. According to legend, skinwalkers are evil beings that can transform into any animal they choose. They are said to be able to control the minds of their victims, and they are feared by many Native American tribes. Sarah told us that Skinwalkers are often seen in the woods at night, and that if you see one, it's best to run and never look back. She said that they can sense fear, and that they are attracted to people who are alone and vulnerable. As the fire began to die down, I started to feel a sense of unease.

The woods seemed to be getting darker and more ominous by the minute. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching. us and I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder. As we got ready for bed, I made sure to stay close to the others. I didn't want to be alone in the woods, not with a skin walker potentially lurking in the shadows. I finally fell asleep, but my sleep was fitful and disturbed. I kept waking up, feeling like something was in the tent with me.

I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. In the middle of the night, I was awoken by a loud, guttural growl. It was so close I could feel the vibrations in the ground. I got up, heart racing, and peered into the darkness. That's when I saw it, a pair of glowing eyes staring at me from the shadows. They seemed to be getting closer and closer until I could make out the shape of a large, wolf-like creature. I screamed, and the Skinwalker let out a deafening howl. I could feel its warm breath on my face, and I knew I had to do something. I fumbled from my

flashlight and when I found it, I flashed it directly into the Skinwalker's eyes. It let out a high-pitched wine and retreated into the darkness. I woke up the others and we huddled together, shaking and terrified. We knew we had to get out of there as fast as possible. We packed up our belongings and started to run. We ran for what felt like hours, not stopping until we saw the faint glow of dawn on the horizon. When we finally reached civilization, we collapsed in exhaustion. I don't think I'll ever forget that night in the woods. The memory of the Skinwalker's glowing eyes will haunt me forever, but I'm grateful to be alive, and I know that I'll never take the safety of civilization for granted again. It was a crisp autumn evening, when our group of six set out on our camping trip in the

remote mountains of Utah, we had planned this trip for weeks, excited to escape the city and spend a few days exploring the rugged wilderness. As we drove deeper into the mountains, the trees grew taller and the air grew colder. We eventually reached our campsite, a clearing nestled among the pine trees. We set up our tents and built a fire settling in for the night. At first, everything seemed normal. We chatted and laughed around the campfire, roasting marshmallows and telling stories. But as the night wore on, we began to sense a strange presence in the woods around us. The animals had gone silent and the air was heavy with an unsettling energy. We tried to brush it off as our imaginations running wild, but the feeling only grew stronger as the hours passed. It was as if

something was watching us from the darkness just beyond the light of the fire. As we huddled around the fire, trying to shake off the creeping dread, we heard a faint rustling in the brush. At first, we assumed it was just a small animal, but as the rustling grew louder, it became clear that whatever was out there was much larger. Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the trees. It was a hulking, humanoid figure, its eyes glowing in the darkness. We froze, paralyzed with fear as it approached us. As it drew closer, we could see that it was covered in matted fur, its face twisted into a grotesque snarl. It was like nothing we had ever seen before, and we knew we were in grave danger.

We scrambled to our feet, ready to run, but it was too late. The creature lunged at us, its claws outstretched. We scattered in every direction, desperate to escape. I raced through the woods, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear the creature's growls and snarls behind me, getting closer and closer. I knew I had to find a way to escape or it would be the end for all of us. I burst out of the trees into a clearing, panting, and gasping for air. I turned to see if the creature was still following me, and that's when I saw it.

There, in the center of the clearing, stood a strange, ancient-looking stone monument. It was covered in strange symbols and markings, and it seemed. to radiate a faint, eerie light. I didn't know what it was or what it meant, but I knew one thing for sure. It was my only chance at survival. I ran towards the monument, my eyes fixed on its glowing surface. As I reached it, I felt a surge of energy coursing through my body. The creature's growls grew louder, but I was no longer afraid. I turned to face the creature, my fists clenched at my sides. It lunged at me, its claws extended, but I was ready for it. With a fierce cry, I swan my arm, striking the creature with all my might. To my surprise, it crumpled to the ground,

its snarls turning to whimpers as it retreated back into the woods. I stood there, panting and trembling, my heart racing with adrenaline. I had no idea what had just happened, but I knew that the stone monument had somehow given me the strength and courage to defeat the creature. We returned to civilization the next day, shaken but grateful to be alive. We never spoke of what happened in the woods that night. I had always been an avid hiker, and when I heard about the new national park that had just opened up in the mountains, I knew I had to go check it out. The park was said to be filled with beautiful trails and breathtaking views, and I couldn't wait to explore it. I planned my trip for a weekend in the fall, when the leaves were turning and the weather was just starting to get chilly.

I packed my backpack with all the essentials, water, snacks, a map, and my trusty camera, and set off early in the morning. The drive to the park was long, but the views were worth it. The mountains rose up around me, their peaks covered in a dusting of snow. As I drove, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and adventure welling up inside me. I arrived at the park around noon, and after paying the entrance fee, I set off on the trail. It was a clear, sunny day, and the air was crisp and clean. The trees were starting to turn orange and gold, and the leaves rustled softly under my feet

as I walked. As I hiked deeper into the park, I felt myself becoming more and more immersed in the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, leading me through dense forests and over rocky cliffs. I took in deep breaths of the fresh mountain air, feeling my worries melting away. But as the day wore on, the sun began to dip lower in the sky and a sense of unease started to creep over me. I checked my map and realized that I had been walking for much longer than I had planned. I was starting to worry that I might not make it back to my car before nightfall. I picked up my pace, trying to make it back to the trailhead as quickly as possible. But as I hurried along, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I kept turning around, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was following me, but I never saw

anything. Just when I thought I couldn't take the tension any longer, I spotted the trailhead up ahead. I let out a sigh of relief and quicken my pace even more, eager to get back to the safety of my car. But as I approached the trailhead, I noticed something strange. The parking lot was empty except for my car. There wasn't a single person in sight. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should go back and try to find another way out of the park. But the thought of being out there in the dark, alone and lost, was too much to bear. So I gathered my courage and headed towards my car.

As I approached, I saw that the driver's side door was slightly ajar. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Had someone broken into my car while I was out on the trail. I slowly approached the car, my hand shaking as I reached for the door. As I touched it, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I spun around, my heart racing, but I saw nothing. I stood there for a moment trying to calm my nerves. I told myself that it was just the wind, or maybe a squirrel or something.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me. I gathered my courage and peered inside the car. was empty, just as I had left it. I let out a sigh of relief and climbed inside, locking the doors behind me. As I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, I couldn't help but feel like I was being followed. I kept looking in my rearview mirror, expecting to see someone or something lurking behind me, but the road was empty. I drove as quickly as I could, trying to put as much distance between myself and the park as possible. But as I reached the highway, I suddenly heard a loud thud against the back of my car. I yelped and swerved, trying to regain control. When I finally

came to a stop on the side of the road, I frantically checked for damage. There was a large dent in the back bumper, but thankfully it didn't seem to have affected the car's performance. I sat there for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I had never been in an accident before, and the thought of being out here, alone and vulnerable, was terrifying. As I sat there, trying to compose myself, I suddenly heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned around, expecting to see an animal or something, but instead I saw a figure standing just a few feet away. It was a tall, thin man, with long, straggly hair and a wild, maniacal look in his eyes. He was covered in dirt and grime, and he looked like he hadn't slept or

bathed in days. I tried to scream, but my voice was stuck in my throat. I scrambled to start the car, but my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't even get the key in the ignition. The man approached me slowly, a sinister smile spreading across his face. I closed my eyes, expecting the worst, but instead I heard the sound of footsteps receding into the distance. When I opened my eyes, the man was gone. I sat there for a moment, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. Had I really just seen a ghost or something? I finally managed to start the car and get back on the road, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still following me.

Every time I looked in the rearview mirror, I half expected to see the man standing behind me. I drove for what felt like an eternity, my heart racing the whole way. When I finally reached the safety of my own home, I collapsed on the couch, too terrified to even move. I never went back to that national park again. The thought of encountering that creepy man again was too much to bear, and every time I went hiking, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me, waiting to strike. It was a cold, dark November evening in Minnesota when my hunting party and I set out into the woods.

The air was crisp and the leaves crunched beneath our feet as we trudged through the forest, our rifles slung over our shoulders and our senses on high alert. We were searching for deer, of course. It was hunting season, after we were. after all. But as the sun began to set and the shadows grew longer, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this particular trip. At first, it was just a faint sense of unease that prickled at the back of my neck. But as the hours ticked by and we failed to spot a single deer, the feeling only grew stronger. My companions seemed to sense it too. They were quieter than usual and kept casting nervous glances at the trees around us. Just as the last slivers of daylight were fading from the sky. We finally caught sight of a deer. It was a big one,

with a sleek, muscular body and a rack of antlers that gleamed in the moonlight. We readied our rifles and took aim, our hearts pounding with excitement, but just as we were about to pull the trigger, something strange happened. The deer suddenly turned and looked straight at us, its eyes glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light. And then, with a flick of its tail, it bounded off into the darkness. We followed it, of course, it was a rare opportunity to back such a trophy deer. But as we crept through the underbrush, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. Every rustle in the leaves, every snap of a twig sent shivers down my spine. And then, just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, we heard a faint,

high-pitched shrieking sound. It seemed to be coming from all around us, echoing through the trees and sending a chill down my spine. We froze in our tracks, unsure of what to do. And then, out of the darkness, a pair of glowing eyes appeared. They seemed to be floating in mid-air, staring at us with a malevolent intensity that sent a wave of fear coursing through my body. I wanted to run to get as far away from that cursed place as I could. But my feet were rooted to the spot as if some unseen force was holding me there.

And then, with a sudden burst of movement, the eyes darted towards us. We scattered, trying to escape the creature that seemed to be pursuing us, but no matter how fast we ran, it seemed to be right behind us. It shrieks echoing in our ears and its glowing eyes fixed on our backs. We ran for what felt like hours, our breath coming in short gasps and our hearts pounding in our chests. But eventually we stumbled upon a clearing, a small, grassy patch surrounded by a circle of trees. We collapsed onto the ground, panting and gasping for air.

And as we lay there, trying to catch our breath, we heard a rustling in the underbrush. Slowly we turned to see a deer standing at the edge of the clearing. But this was no ordinary deer. Its eyes were glowing with that same eerie light, and its antlers seemed to shimmer in the darkness. We scrambled to our feet, our rifles at the ready, but the deer just stood there, gazing at us with an almost curious expression. And then, with a flick of its tail, it turned and vanished into the woods.

We looked at each other, confused. We didn't see that thing again, and we went back to our trucks and went home. We all agreed to never go back to those woods. We never spoke of that night again. It was a dark and stormy night when I arrived at the gas station where I worked. I had been working the late shift at the station for a few months now and had never really experienced anything out of the ordinary. It was a quiet town in the middle of nowhere,

and the only thing that really made it scary was the fact that it was so isolated. I pulled into the parking lot and saw that the lights were on inside the store. I assumed that the previous employee had left them on by accident, which wasn't uncommon. I grabbed my umbrella and made my way to the door, trying to avoid the puddles of water that had formed on the ground. As I entered the store, I was greeted by the sound of the rain pounding against the roof. It was a comforting sound, but also a bit eerie given the circumstances. I made my way to the back of the store to clock in and start my shift. The first few hours went by smoothly. I stocked shelves, cleaned up the store, and even managed to get a few hours of

homework done. It wasn't until around midnight that thing started to get strange. I was sitting behind the counter, scrolling through my phone when I heard a knock at the door. I assumed it was just someone looking to use the restroom or maybe buy a snack, so I didn't think much of it. I walked to the door and unlocked it, but when I opened it, there was nobody there. I looked around the parking lot, but all I saw was the rain and a few cars driving by on the road. I shrugged it off and went back to my seat behind the counter, but then it happened again. Another knock at the door, followed by the sound of footsteps running away.

At this point, I was starting to get a bit creeped out. I locked the door and went back to my seat, trying to reassure myself that it was just some kids playing a prank. But then, the phone rang. I answered it and was met with silence on the other end. I assumed it was just a little bit of a prank. wrong number so I hung up and went back to my phone. But then, the phone rang again, and again. Each time, there was nothing but silence on the other end. I started to feel like I was being

watched. I could feel eyes on me, even though I was alone in the store. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. I tried to ignore it, but it was becoming impossible. Finally, after what felt like hours of this strange activity, I heard a knock at the door again. But this time, it was different. It was louder, more persistent. I couldn't ignore it. I slowly made my way to the door, my heart racing in my chest. I unlocked the door and slowly opened it, peering out into the darkness. And that's when I saw it. A figure standing in the rain, soaked to the bone and covered in mud. It was a man, but there was something off about him. His eyes were wild and his hair was matted to his face. He was staring at me with an intensity that made me feel like I was being dissected.

Can I help you? I asked, my voice shaking. The man didn't say anything. He just stared at me, a strange smile spreading across his face. I could feel the fear coursing through my veins, and I knew I needed to get out of there. I started to back away, but the man reached out and grabbed my arm. Please let me go. I begged, trying to pull my arm free from his grasp, but he didn't let go. But he didn't let go. Instead, he leaned in, his face close from mine. I've been looking for you. He whispered, his voice low and raspy. I couldn't move. I was frozen with fear, not knowing what to do. The man seemed to sense my fear and he started to laugh, a maniacal sound that sent chills down my spine. Don't worry, he said, his grip on my arm tightening. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need your

help. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could this man think that I would help him after everything he had put me through? I tried to pull away again, but he was too strong. Please let me go. I begged again. The man finally released his grip on my arm, but he didn't move away. He just stood there, staring at me with those wild eyes. I knew I had to get out of there, but I couldn't just leave him in the rain. Come inside, I said, my voice barely above a whisper. You can wait out the storm in the store. The man nodded and followed me inside, his footsteps heavy on the floor. I locked the door behind us and led him to a chair in the corner of the store.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a huge mistake, but I couldn't just leave him out in the storm. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rain pounding against the windows. I couldn't bring myself to look at the man, so I just stared at the floor, trying to come up with a plan. Finally, the man spoke. Thank you, he said, his voice still raspy.

I didn't know where else to go. I turned to look at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. He seemed genuine, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere? I asked. The man hesitated for a moment before answering. I'm running from something, he said, his eyes downcast. Something that's been chasing me for a long time. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

This man was running from something. What could be so terrifying that he would end up out here in the middle of nowhere? What are you running from? I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The man looked up at me, his eyes filled with fear. I don't know, he said. I just know that I have to keep moving. It's the only way to stay safe.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This man was clearly in trouble and I had no idea how to help him. but I couldn't just turn him away, not in the middle of a storm. You can stay here as long as you need, I said, trying to sound reassuring. But you have to tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help. The man hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. I don't know if anyone can help, he said.

But I'll tell you what I can. And so, the man told me his story. He had been running from something for months ever since it had first appeared in his dreams. He had no idea what it was, but he knew that it was after him. It had chased him from town to town, always one step behind. He had lost everything in his pursuit to stay alive, including his home and his job. And now he had ended up here in this gas station in the middle of nowhere, hoping to outrun whatever it was that was after him.

I listened to his story with growing horror. It was clear that this man was terrified, and I couldn't blame him. But I had no idea how to help him. What can I do? I asked, my voice shaking. The man looked at me with desperation in his eyes. I don't know, he said. But I can't keep running forever. I need to find a way to stop it.

I nodded, trying to think of a solution. But before I could come up with anything, the man suddenly stood up, his eyes wild with fear. It's here, he whispered. It's found me. I looked around the store, trying to see what he was talking about, but there was nothing there, just the rain and the same. the darkness. What do you mean? I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. The man didn't answer. He just stood there, shaking with fear. And then, I heard it. The sound of footsteps approaching the door.

I froze, not knowing what to do. The man grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the back of the store. We have to hide, he whispered. I followed him, my heart pounding in my chest. We hid behind a shelf of chips, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer, and I knew that whatever was out there was getting closer to. Finally, the footsteps stopped. I could hear the sound of someone trying to open the door, but it was locked. And then, silence. We waited there for what felt like hours, not daring to move. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the presence was gone. The man and I emerged from our hiding spot, shaking with fear. It's gone, I said, trying to reassure myself as much as him.

But the man didn't look relieved. He just looked more scared than ever. It's not gone, he said, his voice barely above a whisper. It's never gone. It's always watching, waiting for the moment when it can strike again. I didn't know what to say. I knew that this man was terrified and I couldn't blame him, but I had no idea how to help him. All I could do was offer him a place to rest until the storm passed.

The man stayed with me for the rest of my shift, sitting in the corner of the store and staring into space. I tried to talk to him to get him to open up about what was going on, but he just sat there, lost in his own thoughts. When my shift was over, I left the man in the store and made my way home, my mind racing with everything that had happened. I knew that I couldn't just leave him there, but I had no idea what to do. I spent the rest of the night lying in bed, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. And as the rain pounded against my window, I knew that I would never be able to forget the night that I met the man running from something in the middle of nowhere. It was a cold, dark night in the woods of Utah, and I was all alone in my tent, huddled under my blankets trying to stay warm. I had been camping by myself for the past week, exploring the remote wilderness and enjoying the peace and solitude.

But as the hours ticked by, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me. The rustling of the leaves outside my tent seemed louder than usual, and every now and then I thought I heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, but the longer I lay there, the more uneasy I became. I kept telling myself to go to sleep, but my mind was racing and my heart was pounding in my chest. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I fell into a restless slumber, but my sleep was short-lived, as I was soon awoken by a low. loud, guttural growl that seemed to be coming from just outside my tent. I sat up with a start, my heart racing as I listened intently for any other sounds. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. And then, I heard it again, the growling, this time accompanied by the sound of something

scratching at the fabric of my tent. I froze, not daring to move a muscle as the scratching continued, growing louder and more frenzied with each passing moment. And then, with a sudden burst of strength, the tent was torn open and a shadowy figure loomed over me. I screamed, scrambling to get away as the figure reached out towards me with long, clawed fingers. But it was too late, I was trapped, with nowhere to go as the creature closed in on me. As I looked up at it, I saw that it was a skinwalker, a creature from Native American folklore said to be able to transform into any animal it desired. And as it leaned down towards me, its face contorted into a grotesque snarl. I knew that I was doomed.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the end. But to my surprise, the Skinwalker didn't attack. Instead, it spoke to me in a voice that was both guttural and eerily human. Why are you here? It growled. This is my territory. You have no business being here. I stared at the creature in shock, unable to believe what was happening.

But as it continued to stare at me with its cold, glowing eyes, I knew that I had to answer. I'm just camping. I stammered, my voice trembling with fear. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave right away, I promise. The Skinwalker seemed to consider this for a moment, and then it nodded. Very well, it said, but if you value your life, you will leave and never return. Do you understand?

I nodded fervently, tears streaming down my face as I begged for mercy. And with a final growl, the Skinwalker turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone and shaking in my torn up tent. I packed up my things as quickly as I could, not daring to look back as I fled the woods. And as I stumbled through the darkness, I couldn't help but wonder what other horrors lay hidden in the shadows, waiting to claim their next victim.

I ran through the woods as fast as my legs could carry me, not stopping until I reached the safety of my car. I threw my belongings into the trunk and jumped into the driver's seat, hands shaking as I tried to start the engine. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the car roared to life and I tore out of the campsite, leaving the woods and the Skinwalker far behind. But as I drove through the dark, empty roads, every time I looked in the rearview mirror,

I half expected to see the glowing eyes of the Skinwalker staring back at me. I tried to push the thought out of my mind, focusing instead on getting as far away from the woods as possible. But no matter how fast I drove, the memories of my encounter with the Skinwalker stayed with me. haunting me every step of the way. I drove for hours, not stopping until I reached the nearest town. And as I stumbled into the first hotel I saw,

I knew that I would never go camping again. The memory of the Skinwalker stayed with me for years, always lurking in the back of my mind. I never told anyone about what had happened, not even my closest friends and family. But every now and then, when the moon was full and the stars were bright, I would find myself thinking back to that terrifying night in the woods of Utah, and I knew that I was lucky to have escaped with my life.

It all started on a stormy night when Park Ranger, John, decided to venture into the deep woods of the park to check on a reported disturbance. As he made his way through the thick brush, the wind howled and the trees swayed violently. John tried to shake off the feeling of unease that was creeping up on him, but he couldn't shake the sense that something was watching him. As he approached the area of the disturbance, he heard a faint rustling coming from a nearby cave. Without hesitation, he drew his flashlight and made his way towards the opening. The cave was dark and narrow, and John could feel the cool air emanating from within. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. As he made his way deeper into the cave, he could feel the temperature

dropped significantly. The walls were slick with moisture and the floor was uneven and rocky. John's flashlight flickered and he stopped to replace the batteries. As he searched through his pack, he heard a faint scratching sound coming from ahead. He froze, listening intently. The scratching grew louder and more urgent, and John could feel his heart racing in his chest. He grabbed his flashlight and continued forward, trying to ignore the creeping sense of dread that was overtaking him. As he rounded a bend in the cave, he saw something that made his blood run cold. A pair of glowing eyes stared back at him from the darkness. John put his flashlight on the creature, revealing it twisted, fur-covered monster with sharp teeth and claws.

It was a skinwalker, a creature of legend that could take on the form of any animal it desired, and it was hungry. John turned and ran, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the Skinwalker right on his heels, its claws scraping against the rocky floor. He knew he couldn't outrun it forever, so he turned and faced it, brandishing his flashlight as a weapon. The Skinwalker snarled and lunged at him, its teeth bared. John swung the flashlight with all his might, connecting with the creature's head. It yelped and retreated, giving John the opportunity to make a break for it. He ran as fast as he could, his heart racing.

He could feel the Skinwalker gaining on him. Just as he thought he was going to be caught, he stumbled upon a small opening in the cave wall. Without hesitation, he squeezed through the opening and into the darkness beyond. As he stumbled through the darkness, he heard the skin walkers' cries fade away. He collapsed against the wall, panting and shaking with fear. He knew he couldn't stay there forever, so he gathered his strength and continued on, determined to find a way out of the cave. After what seemed like hours, he finally saw a faint light in the distance.

He stumbled towards it, his legs shaking with exhaustion. As he emerged from the cave, he collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his face. He had survived the encounter with the Skinwalker, but he knew he would never forget the terror he had experienced in that underground cave. From now on, he vowed to always be cautious when venturing into the unknown. The park was a beautiful and dangerous place, and he knew he would always have to be on guard for whatever dangers lurked within. John's mind was racing as he tried to process what had just happened. He had always heard the stories about Skinwalkers, but he had never actually believed they were real. and yet he had just come face to face with one of the deadliest creatures in Native American folklore.

He knew he had to report this encounter to his superiors. He pulled out his radio and called for backup, his voice shaking with fear. He knew it was unlikely anyone would believe him, but he had to try. As he waited for backup to arrive, he decided to try and find his way back to the entrance of the cave. He knew it would be a long and difficult journey, but he had to try. He couldn't just sit and wait for the Skinwalker to come back. As he made his way back through the cave, something was looking at him in the darkness. He looked with his flashlight into every corner and crevice, but he saw nothing.

He knew the Skinwalker could take on any form it wanted, and it could be anywhere. After what felt like forever, he finally made it back to the entrance of the cave. He emerged into the daylight, his eyes squinting against the bright light. As he stepped out of the cave, he was greeted by a group of armed park rangers. We received a distress call from you, one of the rangers said, What's going on? John took a deep breath and told them everything that had happened. He told them about the disturbance he had gone to investigate and about the skinwalker he had encountered in the cave. The Rangers looked skeptical, but they knew John was a reliable

ranger. They knew he wouldn't make up a story like this. After debriefing John, the rangers decided to send a team back into the cave to investigate. They wanted to see if there was any evidence of the Skinwalker's presence. John knew he couldn't go back in there, so he stayed behind as the team ventured into the cave. The hours ticked by, John had the feeling that something was wrong. He knew the Skinwalker was still out there, and he was terrified it would come after him. He tried to stay calm, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling of dread that had settled in. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the team emerged from the cave.

They looked pale and shaken, and they had found. evidence of the Skinwalker's presence. They had found tracks and claw marks, and they had heard strange noises coming from deep within the cave. John knew he had to get out of there. He couldn't stay in the park anymore. He knew the Skinwalker would never stop going after him. He gathered his things and left, never looking back. As he drove away from the park, he knew he would never forget the terrifying encounter he had had with the Skinwalker. He knew he would always be haunted by the memory of those glowing eyes staring back at him from the darkness. He vowed to never venture into the unknown again,

and to always be cautious of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Despite his fear, John knew he had a duty to protect the park and its visitors. He knew he couldn't just leave and forget about the Skinwalker. He had to do something to stop it. He decided to seek the help of a local Native American tribe. He knew they had a deep understanding of the creatures that inhabited the land, and he hoped they could help him defeat the Skinwalker. The tribal elder listened to John's story and nodded gravely.

I believe you, he said. The Skinwalker is a powerful and dangerous creature, but we have ways of defeating it. The elder led John to a sacred ground and performed a ritual to banish the Skinwalker from the park. As the ritual concluded, the elder looked at John and said, The Skinwalker will no longer be a threat to you or anyone else. It has been banished from this place. John felt a sense of relief wash over him. He knew the Skinwalker was gone for good, and he could finally rest easy.

He thanked the elder and left the park, feeling grateful for the help and guidance he had received. From that day on, John never forgot the encounter he had with the Skinwalker. He knew there were always dangers lurking in the shadows, but he was prepared to face them head on. He knew he had the strength and courage to protect the park and its visitors, no matter what threats may come his way.