Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Best Scary Stories of April 2023 | Scary REDDIT Stories For Sleep, Relaxing, or When You're Alone

Episode Date: April 28, 2023

Best Scary Stories of April 2023 | Scary REDDIT Stories For Sleep, Relaxing, or When You're Alone. Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Dr. Squatch -$10 OFF!https://tinyurl.com/2n5w57sr Story Credits:►https://www.reddit.com/user/thegeneralg/►https://www.reddit.com/user/thegeneralg/►https://www.reddit.com/user/philosophicalnonsens/►https://www.reddit.com/user/sabino_lopes/https://www.youtube.com/@whatscaresyou-/videos►Anonymous►Anonymous►https://www.reddit.com/user/Midnight_Realm/►https://www.reddit.com/user/ChardNo6398/ ►►https://www.reddit.com/user/theMethuselahian/►https://www.reddit.com/user/YuaxzqOnXbox/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Michael_Whitehouse/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/ksjeepfreak/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/JLGoodwin1990/ Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe #scarystories #redditstories #horrorstories Business inquiries: ►[e-mail]

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When the call about the missing campers and the abandoned campsite came in, I was sitting in front of the park ranger station watching a fire that crackled in the rusted old pit that's been here for decades. The flames were slowly eating the wood. The heat occasionally sputtered and spat as the pine logs were devoured. It's one of my favorite ways to pass the time out here. A fire, like watching fish in an aquarium or animals in a zoo, is endlessly captivating because it's a tiny bit of nature captured and put on display. The same reason people come here to the Spruce Ridge National Park, and just like a fire, the woods here can scorch you if you're not careful. I shuffled back inside, took the call, and headed out for the rendezvous point after

listening to the report for a few minutes. Another couple gone missing. Nothing too out of the ordinary, at least not yet. So I loaded my gun, hopped in my Jeep, and headed out as the sun began to receive past the trees. The searing summer sun peaked out from between dense fur limbs that surrounded the rocky terrain on all sides, sweeping over the horizon as far as I could see. I passed glimmering ponds filled with plant life and pavilions filled with brown picnic benches as the jeep bounced up and down on carefully maintained blacktop and rutted brown roads filled with rock. I could practically hear the croak of frogs, the chirping of crickets, and the hum of a few dragonflies as I sped past. No matter how long I was a park ranger, I never got used to the thrill of

the great outdoors. The surrounding. The trinity you could find in the fresh air was eternal, as was its sheer size. It reminds me of pioneer days when it was just a few families alone in the vastness of the frontier, and it was a very unforgiving frontier. Back then, there were no rangers or park security like me to make sure no families got lost. First aid didn't exist, and Mother Nature never suffered fools. Some people have forgotten that, but Mother Nature never hesitates to remind people about what she can do. lately she seems particularly active on that front in these parts.

I carefully maneuvered the jeep through hills, which were bigger the farther I got away from the base. The wind lashed through the cracked windows as I passed fallen cedar trees on the way to my destination. I love these woods, but I never forget how merciless they can be and how many people have met their end out here. How many bodies have been buried right here? How many people went out into these woods and simply never came out. There's no way of knowing for sure, but these woods have been around for centuries, and that's enough time for death to plant a seed for every tree out here. I was dispatched to find Libby and Dale Morrison, a well-to-do couple that had gone out on a camping vacation. Their empty campsite had been found by a group of hikers, and since no one had seen the couple for a few days, I was sent out to take a closer look.

Funny enough, while I've always loved the outdoors, I've never liked camping. If you fill out enough missing persons and death reports, you learn fast to treat the woods like a tiger or lion. They might be stunning to look at, but never forget what can happen when you encounter them. Although plenty of people have wised up and learned how to camp safely, camping certain places alone, is a bit like putting out a candy bowl on Halloween with a, please take one, sign with no one to watch. Not everyone who walks by has to ignore the rule, and do whatever they please. All it takes is one. It may have only taken one person to make my brother-in-law Jerry vanish a few weeks ago.

National Park seems so humdrum and tame, but anyone who works at one knows there's a lot of dark things that happen within those trees. Colts will meet here, drug deals go down and go wrong, and plenty of people vanish within these woods. People are dumped here and found days, weeks, or even months later, all torn to pieces from the animals and no coroner could figure out how they got that way. I've interviewed plenty of applicants who think this job is some kickwalk and an easy paycheck. They all get a nasty wake-up call sooner or later, and it either soberes them up or makes them run out of here like they've been chased out. And I've seen things that I don't blame them for wanting to run from. People have been afraid of monsters in the woods for centuries.

I don't expect that to change any time soon, no matter what modern technology exists. That's why the single best alarm system that ever existed is man's best friend. The minute a dog starts barking, you know someone, or something, is there. But when you're outside and your dog whimpers and runs away like the ground is on fire, that's your cue to get out. It's no coincidence that in all the time I've been on duty here, I've never had to deal with a situation where one or more person involved had a dog. Never. Back at the station that houses my office, there is an entire bulletin board with missing persons flyers. Most of them are couples or entire families. wholesome looking, happy, and smiling at the camera, like they don't have a care in the world,

which is usually how they end up on the wall in the first place. I was about to find out whether the Morrisons would join them. It's not a task I enjoy at all. In the five years I've had this job, I've taken off maybe ten of those flyers, and not because the people on them were found safe and sound either. Most people on it are the type of people who think just because they have GPS and cars with all the latest bells and whistles, there is nothing to worry about when you camp or venture into the woods.

A lot of people who venture out here have that attitude. If they're lucky, they realize the mistake can live to talk about it. Other times not so much, but maybe their fate can help teach others a lesson. I've certainly had to deal with my share of journalists, documentary filmmakers, law enforcement officers from various divisions, private investigators, and inquiring relatives and friends. The professionals I have no problem dealing with. They're just doing a job, same as me.

That's not to say they don't take what happened seriously, or feel bad for the parties involved. Not at all, but they're used to dealing with stuff like this for the most part, and it rarely touches them personally. Only rarely do I see the look in their eye that tells that what happened here will haunt them. On the other hand, dealing with family members in that situation, is by far the worst part of my job. I'd rather stumble upon a million bodies that have to deal with grieving family members. I've done it too many times, but it never gets any easier. Never. And it shouldn't.

It was dark by the time I arrived at the Morrison campsite, which was a long way from any main area. As expected, they had spared no expense and had gone camping with brand new gear that I was certain they had just bought. Brand new equipment, cooking gear, and a black SUV that was still gleaming. like it was fresh off the lot. I did have to concede that Mr. and Mrs. Morrison picked a terrific spot right on the lake. It was a clear night and the moon glistened off the calm surface, which looked like glass.

No matter what happened on the job, nighttime was always my favorite time to work or do anything else so long as I took proper precautions. I suppose it's the same reason people think about hitting up an old flame late at night. In the modern era, it's easy to look down upon more primitive times and their fears about what lay just out of sight in the darkness. But come out here at night, when it's pitch dark,

and those fears suddenly become far more relatable. Modern technology may be the 21st century, but where your flashlight ends, it's the 19th century. All it takes is for your flashlight to run out of batteries, your GPS to fail, or your car to not start, and you're no longer in modern times out here. You're right back where your ancestors were, but at least they knew how to survive in conditions like that.

As I looked around the campsite, the stars gleamed out of the sky and looked brighter than usual. I don't think people think about space, as in really think about it, and what it entails. It is a stunning concept to behold. The vastness of the galaxy and all the galaxies beyond it. When you think about it, Earth is nothing more than a tiny apartment in a massive skyscraper when you think of how massive space is. A phrase outer space invokes gargantuan size and a scale that is unfathomable. When pondering this, the two most terrifying concepts and their implication are that you are completely

alone in the universe, and you are not alone in the universe. Which one is more terrifying depends a lot on the person. The phrase in space, no one can hear you scream, is so much more than a movie tagline. It's a simple fact. Because not only can no one hear you scream, you might not even be able to scream, which is one of the most horrifying feelings a human can experience. It's like calling for an ambulance only to be told help isn't coming. The woods are the same way, as it's no coincidence they refer to space as the final frontier. It's also what makes someone going missing in a huge park like this such a nightmare for a search party. In a populated area you can rule areas out and narrow things down, but out here in the woods, someone could be literally anywhere.

The Morrison campsite wasn't torn to shreds like it had been attacked by a wild animal, nor did it resemble the scene of a horror movie-style bloodbath. It looked like countless campsites that had been abandoned without an afterthought. Had it not been for their car nearby, I would have thought they just left on a whim. Their car, a shiny black Cadillac SUV with a grill hood that gleamed in the light from my flashlight, was still here. So that meant they either left in someone else's car, they ran off somewhere outside the park, or they were still here. But it wouldn't be the first time I've seen couples ditch one vehicle out here to get in a So the question was, what caused the Morrisons to flee from where they'd set up shop?

It certainly wasn't because they needed to use a bathroom. In my experience, people almost always flee due to fear, but fear of what? I scanned the area slowly with my flashlight. The Morrison's certainly spared no expense. The RV was top of the line, certainly a step up from sleeping in a tent. You don't leave equipment like this for no reason, especially if you're someone with money. A quick check revealed that not. None of the car's tires had been slashed, and from all appearances it looked to be in good condition.

Since the RV's front door was halfway open, I wasted no time in climbing the metal steps and peering inside. As expected, everything inside was top of the line. Most of it looked like they had just bought it at the store a week ago. I carefully climbed inside and with one hand on my gun, I slowly checked the bathroom and bedroom. The bathroom was a jumbled mess of tubes and bottles and the bed was unmade, but everything was. was perfectly in order, nor did it look like anything was stolen. I stepped back outside and started to walk towards my Jeep to radio what I had seen. But when I was over halfway there, the skin on my arms prickled and I felt a chill run down

my back. Despite the billowing humidity, I was chilled to the core. I took a deep breath, carefully placed one hand back on my gun, and carefully walked the remaining distance, taking care to keep my back aligned with the RV as I had the sense I was being watched. I had felt this sensation before and you never get used to it, and just like dealing with grieving families, you shouldn't. Because if you do, the next grieving family may be yours. With paranoia and fear growing with each step, I mercifully made it to the Jeep okay and slammed the door shut. Before I radioed back to the base, I leaned back in the driver's seat and tried to relax.

As I took another deep breath and reminded myself to remain calm, I surveyed the terrain again. No car tracks aside from mine or the Morrisons, no evidence of a struggle, and no sign of any other life out here. But that did not mean nothing else was out here besides me. As if to answer me, a guttural roar burst out from the woods to my right, and I practically shot out of my seat. It was the ugliest sound I've ever heard, and there was no way a human was capable of making that noise. It was the kind of sound that seems to be a living, breathing, physical entity, like thunder. Without waiting another moment, I started the engine, floored the gas pedal, and the Jeep roared to life as I drove out of there as fast as I could. As I pulled away, I swear I could see the trees where the roar came from tremble slightly.

It wasn't until I had been driving for about ten minutes that I noticed some heavy breathing that sounded pained. When I realized it was mine, I tried to take a deep breath and calm down. Once I had done the former and was attempting the ladder, I picked up my radio with a clammy hand and called in what I, found and heard. I was surprised as my voice was far calmer than I felt. On the other line, my colleague sounded surprised but not skeptical. Maybe it was sincere. Or maybe when I had backup and we all headed back there together, we might find nothing and they might just declare me paranoid. I didn't really carry their way. I'd much rather be called paranoid than a crime statistic. I rolled along at a good pace until I rounded a corner and a figure standing in the middle of the

road made me slam on the brakes. In the harsh light from the vehicle's headlights, I could see the figure was slender, wearing badly tattered clothes, and was pretty beat up. But when the figure took a step forward, I couldn't believe it. It was my brother in law, Jerry. I rolled down my window in shock. What the hell is going on? Bobby, we got to go. Get in. I said before he ran unsteadily towards the passenger seat. The minute he sat down, I hit the gas and we roared out of there. He panted for a good 30 seconds before his breathing evened out. What happened, Jerry? I asked after he had a chance to rest. There's something out here, Bobby, some kind of creature, a monster, like something out of a TV

show. And there's this group of people that know about it and treat it like it's real important. They think it's so important they even kidnap people and offer it to the monster to eat. That's what happened to me. What kind of monster is it? It was the only thing I could think of to ask. I don't know. How did you get away? Remember that knife you got me for Christmas last year. The one you can store anywhere. That's right. I had it in my shoe at the time they grabbed me. Once I had a chance, I put it to good use. And here you are, saving my neck again. I'll never be able to repay you. His voice broke as he spoke. I always liked you. Jerry, not like Tyler, Marion's last boyfriend. The sentence was barely out of my mouth when the car went around a bend,

and I had to slam on the brakes again. But this time the site was far more chilling, as the road was filled with people wearing identical monochromatic black plastic masks, the kind you get in bulk at a party store. They also wore plain black hooded sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up. No one moved an inch as I stopped. They all just stood there, facing me, all 25 of them. Then, almost on command, they all started walking at once towards my vehicle. That was the only cue I needed to start the car and run right through them. Or that was my plan before out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of color and two of the masked people went flying and slammed into trees. When they landed, both of them were sporting deep scratches that were bleeding. This made the others stop immediately

before they started to flee in opposite directions. But that wasn't enough because more of them fell prey to whatever was out there, which I couldn't see. Either way, I hit the gas harder than I ever had in my life, and it wasn't long before the screaming and wailing was a faint background noise. What's the matter? Jerry gleefully called out from the cracked window. You can't handle what you tried to do to me. The two of us didn't say a word to each other until we reached the Park Ranger Station.

Dathered around the front were a few of my colleagues, but two of the people were dressed casually, and matched the description of the Morrisons, whose campsite I was sent to check out. My face must have showed my surprise because Mrs. Morrison walked over to me and shook my hand. Libby Morrison, paranormal investigator. My husband and I were investigating the rumors of strange occurrences out here, and we left the campsite abandoned in order to try to record what happened.

Well, congrats, you found something, was all I said before I briefly explained what happened and left it to the professionals. Altogether, the bodies of ten masked people were pulled from the park. The rest were rounded up by law enforcement and charged with various things. And while that was going on, I handed in my resignation while Jerry went home with my sister. I eventually got another job related to the outdoors, but this time it was a job related to outdoor retail. No more searching in the forest for me. Starting a business can seem like a daunting task, unless you have a partner like Shopify.

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it was just like huddling around a campfire while you told stories. Except we were indoors around a fireplace. It was the middle of spring, but it had been cold lately, so while the afternoons were pleasant, the nights had been chilly, which was why we were all inside gathered around a fire while on the clock. The ranger station was beyond comfortable with a fire, so I was contently sitting in one of the many leather couches facing it. We were all midway through a shift,

and like many nights on the job, it was quiet, so we got to talking about nothing in particular. There's nothing like the natural flow of an unplanned conversation. Outside, the evening had slowly given way to night, and the darkness had settled upon the woods with its usual silent thoroughness. The area may be a park during the day, but at night it was the woods. Parks inherently sound fun and brings to mind cookouts,

whereas the woods has an inherently spooky vibe. There were four of us sitting by the fire in the ranger station on the on that chilly night. Me, Harland, Anthony, and Craig. Craig had just finished talking about his cousin's wedding when Anthony asked Harland what his scariest story was from working here all these years. Usually, Harlan just chuckled and said he'd heard some crazy things over the years. But not this time. This time, he sat there quietly for a moment before he said, The Witch of Blackthorn Creek. That was when we all went completely still. If we were just like people huddled around a campfire,

Harland was the one in charge of building the fire. He was the ranger we always deferred to. He'd been on the job long enough to have earned that right. Harlan's family had also been in the area for generations, so if anyone had any stories to tell about what may have happened here, it was him. Plus he was a terrific guy, hardworking and beyond helpful when you needed something. So when someone like Harlan tells you he's heard of a story like that, you listen.

intently, especially with the tone of voice he used, serious and no nonsense without a trace of amusement. The Witch of Blackthorn Creek, Harlan began in a clear voice as we all gave him our full attention. The story was first told to me by my uncle George, who had been a lumberjack for years. According to him, people said there was a curse on the land which was placed there by a witch. It all started one year when the harvest went bad, since there had been nothing but plentiful harvest. every year and made people beyond suspicious. There was barely enough grain and stuff to get through winter. It didn't help matters that the town had generally been prosperous, but had recently started to go through some financial difficulties. Then, numerous bits of misfortune happened within the

community over the years. Houses burning down. People going missing and never being found again. Periodically, there would be something odd left lying around near where someone had vanished. creepy things like weird-looking dolls made from wood that never failed to rattle people. There wasn't anyone around who people thought was capable of anything like this, and since one of the families in town had experienced something like this before in a different town many years ago, they suspected there was some kind of curse put on them, especially after a few people who kept track of all the strange events realized every one of them took place on a full moon. Arlen took a sip of his coffee before he continued.

It all came to a head when there was a terrible accident at the town lumber mill, a fire that no one could figure out how it started. Several employees died and many others were badly injured, and the lumber mill, which was one of the biggest employers around, closed. That was when the paranoia that had been lingering under the surface boiled over, so when some people from town found an abandoned cottage in the woods near Blackthorn Creek with weird symbols written on the walls, and the floor they grabbed their torches, set the place on front,

fire and watched it burn. According to the crowd, the cabin took forever to burn, much longer than the people thought possible. But once it did finally burn down, they took the ashes and buried them deep in the woods and didn't mark the location, hoping that would be the end of it. And, for a while, that seemed to be the case. But every once in a while, something would happen that would make people in town look over their shoulders. Nothing major, a bit of bad luck in the form of an injury, or some suspicious noises outside the house after dark, and perhaps some scratch marks on the door or the wall. But ever since then, people would be very careful what they did,

especially if there was a full moon. Then he paused for a moment to look at the fire, which was crackling pleasantly in the fireplace. I couldn't tell you how old I was when I first heard the story, but I remember exactly how I felt. Confused. Because the story, although creepy and entertaining, didn't quite make sense to me,

and I said something to Uncle George about that, and he laughed. Then he said he agreed that the story was long on atmosphere and short on believability. That's when he got serious. Told me that although the story was a bit of fiction, he never doubted that it came from somewhere and there was indeed something going on out in the woods. Then he added that it didn't matter how old I was, where I was, who I was with, or what was going on. If I got a terrible feeling, I should listen to it. and I've listened to every feeling I've gotten since then.

It's never served me wrong. He looked around towards us, slowly taking us all in. I've never quite believed that story, but I will be the last person to deny that in all the years I've been out here, I've felt things on occasion, things that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and on even fewer occasions, I've seen things, fleeting glances at things that I wasn't sure I saw,

that there was one time when I not only felt something, I heard something. The air in the Ranger Station was completely still. I briefly glanced at my colleagues as Harlan said this, and they met my glance, and I could see they were just as gripped by the story as I was. It was about 30 years ago. Harland explained,

I was just starting out as a park ranger. This was back in the early 90s when technology and life in general was very different from today. I'd grown up out in nature, and I'd seen plenty of scary movies, and more importantly, I'd grown up hearing countless, spooky stories about what may or may not have been lurking outside, so I wasn't exactly sheltered. But there are some things you are never truly prepared to experience. The fire in the fireplace

popped in the grate, but we were so absorbed in Harlan's story we barely noticed. There was plenty of wood in the fire, so we didn't have to worry about that for a while. It was early November. Halloween had just ended, which made everyone sad because I remember that year was a particularly fun one. Darkness seemed to be arriving early. so I was barely halfway through my shift when the sun was going down. I remember it had been raining almost every day, so the days were all gray and cloudy, and the nights were damp with plenty of fog.

But that particular morning was dry. All the leaves that had clung to the trees had been scattered by the winds and rain, so they lay there on the grass, all damp and torn. My job on that particular day was to go around raking them up so they didn't completely cover the trails and paths people walked on. The chill in the air was that chill only late fall can bring. The dampness that seems to soak into your skin and never let go. I had just finished one section of the park and was walking back to my truck when the rain started up again,

and it did so with a fury. So I hustled it to the truck, got inside, and headed back to the Ranger Station where I planned to spend the rest of the evening. And since it was a quiet night at the Ranger Station, it looked like I would get what I wanted. I was used to working the late shift by myself as the night supervisor, so being alone didn't bother me. I'd always been a quiet type who liked to read a book, so it was an ideal situation for me, except for that night. Harlan took a deep breath before he continued. Because Halloween was over and the rain had been steady, the park hadn't received as many visitors as it usually had. But I was inside the ranger station, this ranger station in fact, which was just as cozy and warm as you see it now.

Plus, now that I was done with my task, I was free to read a book, so I wasted no time in curling up by the fire with a paperback. I'd spent many a shift this way, and it was fine by me. I'd happily read a book on a nice day, but on a rainy day. Nothing better. Eventually, I started to get hungry, since I'd just brought a light snack. But turned out to be craving something bigger, I decided to order pizza. There was a local place that was only a few minutes away that often delivered out here back

then, so I didn't hesitate to give them a call. I ordered a medium pizza with pepperoni, and as I hung up, the rain started to really pound heavily on the station roof. I knew from experience that the rain pounding on the station roof could truly be loud. It seemed to surround you from all sides. But by the time the headlights pulled into the driveway, the rain had faded to a slight drizzle. But I could see the grass leading up here was pretty well soaked, and there were numerous small puddles on both the grass and the road. The trees were swaying along with the winds, and the sky was getting darker by the minute as night was settling in. Thy now, the outdoor lights had started to switch on as the car from the pizza place pulled up

in front of the station, its windshield wipers going back and forth as it stopped in front of the entrance. I stood in front of it under the part of the roof that kept me out of the rain. The driver, a young guy named Derek in his early 20s, got out of the driver's seat and grabbed the pizza from the passenger's side. Derek had delivered here before, and he'd always done a great job. We chit-chatted as I handed him the cache with a generous tip. Then Derek handed me the pizza and was just about to go back to his car before he stopped and stared at something behind me. He paused and said that it would probably sound crazy, but it looked like there was a woman lurking in the woods near the Ranger Station. We all sat there silently for a moment before Harland continued. I remember just

standing there when he told me. The words sounded almost foreign as Derek said them out loud. My first reaction was that it was impossible, but there was only one way to find out, so I turned behind me to look at where he was pointing. He took another sip of coffee. The cluster of trees he was pointing out was a dense area of tall pine trees. They've been long gone by now. But back then, there wasn't much in the way of illumination out there, but even I could see there was nothing there. I stood there, the pizza still clutched in my hand as I waited for anything to happen. The nothing emerged from the woods. I was just about to turn back to Derek when I heard get out from beside me in a hushed voice, clear as could be. I turned around immediately to look at

Derek, and without saying a word, I knew he'd heard it too. But while it was creepy as could be, I didn't know for sure what it meant. It didn't come out as an ominous command. More like a warning. But I won't lie, standing there outside. I'd never felt fear like that before. I'd been afraid before, and I'd been afraid after, but not like that. That fear was less like a feeling, and more like a part of your body. Like it's always there, and only rarely are you truly aware of it. Sitting there watching Harland, it was clear that although we were sitting there in the present, he had been immediately transported back to that cold November night. I couldn't have told you how much time passed, may have only been a minute or two.

But despite the dwindling light, I thought I could see shapes moving far out in the woods. Very far out. After a moment, you couldn't see anything at all. Then Harlan's voice became quieter. To this day, I have no idea why that sight filled me with so much fear. Just like I also have no idea how I knew it was people. But I did. And I knew it was people, as in more than one.

Much more than one. But I had no idea exactly how many. Then, almost as if on cue, I heard that. the word now. And it was all the motivation I needed to tell Derek we had to go. He didn't need to be told twice, because we hopped in his car and got out of there as fast as we could. Didn't stop for about 20 miles and we were far away from the Ranger Station. By that point the fear had slowly faded and I was starving, so we split the pizza while debating what to tell my superiors. I eventually decided to say that I was feeling really sick and went to see a doctor I knew.

Harlan chuckled, but it didn't take long for me to realize my excuse for leaving would be completely forgotten. Because after I left, the Ranger Station had been broken in two by a group of people. The security camera we had at the time saw all six of them, dressed from head to toe in black, break right through the front door, just crashed right through it. Then, minutes later, they came back out without taking anything and vanished into the trees. The cops thoroughly searched the area, but found nothing. I found out when I called my superiors to tell them I had to leave because I was feeling horrible. From the time on the camera, they appeared to arrive within mere minutes after I left with Derek.

We all exchanged a look as the fact that he really was talking about this ranger station, dawned on us. Sitting across from us, Harlan didn't say anything, but I knew he could tell the three of us were seeing the ranger station like never before. The conclusion the cops reached, Harland eventually said, is that it was a gang of professional criminals who saw the ranger station and decided to see what they could find. Since there was apparently nothing they could make use of, they split. And every year on that day since that happened, I've taken a single flower and left it by where Derek says he saw someone that night. I've never seen or heard that voice since that night, but on occasion I have felt the presence of something or someone watching me and not in an unpleasant way.

But that's the thing about the woods. There's no telling what you may find in them. And if you're really paying attention, it's amazing what you can learn. Like I learned that November night, all those years ago, was a full moon. The clouds just happened to obscure it out here. I was probably 19 when it happened, maybe newly 20. My then-boyfriend, Christopher, who I called Kit, was visiting me from Seattle to celebrate my mom's birthday in our hometown, a city called Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. I was living in Alberta, attending a university there when Kit arrived.

We were planning on driving out to my mom's place together. I was very eager to introduce him to my family. They were eager to meet him. The two of us were excited and giggly while we were getting ready to leave. I was packing up the last of my schoolwork and clothes while rambling on about what snacks we should buy for the long drive. Meanwhile Kit, who hadn't unpacked from the flight, already had his bags in the car. He was going to drive for the first half of the drive, and I drive for the second half. After only a couple hours of driving, we had switched and I was driving.

The sun was setting by now. I remember Kit pointing out how pretty the pinkish-orange sky was, and before we knew it, it was dark. It had still been an uneventful drive. We were listening to a podcast, pointing out owls or raccoons in trash bins when we passed truck stops. Nothing of note, until a deer appeared in the street out of normal. I slammed on the brakes and we stopped maybe 20 feet from the deer, and it was just their standing, staring back at us.

Not unusual for a deer as I'm sure you all know, but it was staring for an uncomfortable amount of time, even for a deer in headlights, like three to four minutes at least. I honked the car horn a couple of times, no response. After another couple minutes a guy in a white Honda drove up behind us and stopped. He was honking too, and we both sat there honking at this time. deer. Or maybe he was honking at me honking at the deer. Anyways, eventually the deer walked off into the woods, his nose pointed in the air, and we carried on. The Honda guy was clearly in a rush because he passed us the second he got the chance, and then we were the ones following him. That's when

something really weird happened. We heard aloud, deep-voiced, help. From a direction I couldn't quite pinpoint. It was loud enough to be heard over the podcast, yet quiet enough to seem far away. We slowed down a little bit and glanced at each other. I suppose just wondering if we actually heard that. The Honda slowed down too. We decided it was just a background noise in the podcast, which was a true crime podcast so it made sense and carried on driving. When again, we heard a help.

Help me please. At this point the podcast had ended and we slowed down again, looking out the open window. The voice was the same as the one before and sounded just as far as the one before, but we We were going too fast for anyone to keep up with us. The guy driving the Honda stuck his hand out his window and gestured us to pull over. We stopped at a touristy photo area beside a lake with some factory across from it. I think it's a cement plant or something. The Honda driver and his wife both got out.

They were both in there, maybe late 50s, and asked us if we also heard the cry for help. We said yes, and the four of us chatted for a bit about it. then again from an undetermined direction. Help. Please help. The older man called out to the voice. Hello. Is someone there? Are you okay? The voice responded, help. Please help. And he responded where are you? Are you hurt? The voice sounded significantly closer this time and sounded almost contorted. Is someone there? The old man, after hearing the change in the voice, went pale white. He looked at his wife, then at us, then over at the forest, and said, yet much quieter,

hello. And the voice, once again, though this time much deeper, and even less human sounding, replied, help, is someone there? We were all kind of freaked out, so the older couple called the police, as did we, and then we went back to driving. As we continued down the road, Kit and I didn't talk. We were both wildly uncomfortable. We just watched the tree line, counting the deer we saw. quite a few of them for so late at night. Although I'm not a dear expert, maybe they graze at night or something. We eventually arrived at my mother's house,

and I told her and my sisters about the event, and they all got really anxious listening to it. My older sister scolded us, saying someone could have been in serious danger, and I suppose she was right. But I'm not sure. The voice it made didn't sound natural. The more it called the less human it sounded.

Every cry for help got more and more twisted. I'm not well educated on the matters of local folklore or mythology. I don't know if there's some cryptozoological monster out there who could explain it. Or maybe all of us were just sleep deprived and sharing some sort of mass hysteria. I'm not sure, but it was still the creepiest event of my life. I was going camping in the forest, as I used to do every year. I have always enjoyed spending time in nature away from the hustle and bustle of the city. This time, I decided to explore a different area of,

a little further from my usual campsite. That was when I saw that someone had made a trail as the vegetation was disturbed, and this strange path extended all the way to the entrance of a cave. I can't explain what caught my attention, maybe it was the sense of mystery emanating from that place. The cave seemed dark and scary,

but at the same time, it seemed to invite me to explore it. I found a notebook in an old and dusty backpack that was lying at the entrance. The backpack seemed to have been dragged and torn, There were bloodstains on the cover of the notebook and on some pages. As soon as I opened it, I noticed something strange. The handwriting started off normal, like someone who writes without hurry, sitting at a desk. It continued like that until the note, Day 2.

From the note, day 3 onwards, the handwriting became a little shaky. I thought it might be the cold, but the shaky handwriting was so intense that it seemed like the person who wrote it was trembling with fear, or in a hurry. The contents of the pages left me chilled and with an inexplicable fear. Day 1. I arrived at the forest this morning. I set up my tent near a stream and made a fire to keep warm. At night I heard some strange noises as if something was dragging on the ground. I thought it could be some animal, so I ignored it and tried to sleep. Day 2.

I woke up with the feeling that something was watching me. There was nothing nearby, but I still felt to chill down my spine. During the day, I walked through the forest and noticed that I was being followed. I couldn't see who or what it was, but I felt its presence. At night, I heard those strange noises again and started to get worried. Day three, a dark and mysterious thing has been following me in the forest, and getting closer and closer. It's almost like I can feel its breath on my neck and hear its heavy footsteps.

It seems to know every corner of the forest better than I do. This night, the creature approached even closer. and I could only see a dark shadow moving between the trees. Its glowing eyes were the only thing I could distinguish in the darkness. Day four. I'm starting to feel like I won't be able to escape. It's getting closer and closer. I know it's taunting me and enjoying seeing me suffer. I couldn't sleep tonight because the creature was outside, howling and scratching at my tent. Day five. I can't take this anymore. The creature was talking to me, whispering things in my mind.

It was telling me horrible things, things that I can't repeat here. I tried to run, but it always found me. Today, it revealed itself completely. When I looked at it, I couldn't believe what I saw. Its appearance was grotesque, and it seemed to have something sharp in its hands. It approached while insisting on whispering things in my mind. I felt a chill run through my entire body. Am I losing my sanity?

I started running, but I knew it was following me. I entered a cave and the journey through it seemed endless. I heard the creature getting closer and closer and started to panic. The cave has no way out, or maybe I got lost in its tunnels. I think this is the end. I'm surrounded and I can already see its glowing eyes coming in the distance. I'm leaving my notebook here in a hole I found in the cave wall, hoping that someone finds it and knows not to stay here.

If anyone finds this notebook, please don't come after me. I don't want anyone to suffer what I'm suffering. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. It was just a story, a work of fiction. There was nothing to be afraid of. The notebook ended there. The shaky and bloodstained handwriting left me with a feeling of fear and anguish. I knew I shouldn't investigate, but my curiosity got the best of me.

Slowly, I made my way towards the entrance of the cave. I looked around, but it was too dark to see anything. I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight. I took a few steps towards the darkness and tried to illuminate. Where the light could barely reach, I noticed that there was red liquid everywhere, and the walls were covered in scratches. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and quickly turned around. It was just a bat, but it still scared me.

I was about to leave when I heard a voice. I turned around, but there was no one there. The voice seemed to be coming from inside my head. I tried to run, but my legs wouldn't move. My body shuddered and I had to be. felt that someone or something was watching me. Fear froze me and I couldn't move. The forest was darker and colder. I hadn't noticed that night had already arrived. I tried to move my eyes, and that's when I noticed. Two shining eyes in the darkness. The air was crisp as my partner,

and I began our hike through the National Park. We had been planning this trip for months, and were excited to finally embark on our adventure. The trail was well marked, and the scenery was breathtaking, but something fell off. As we walked deeper into the forest, we started to hear strange noises that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. At first, it was just a rustling in the bushes or a twig snapping in the distance. But then the sounds grew more intense. We couldn't tell where the noises were coming from, and that only added to our unease. We quickened our pace, hoping to leave whatever was making those sounds behind.

But as we turned a corner, we came face to face with something that stopped us dead in our tracks, Standing before us was a creature unlike anything we had ever seen before. It had long, spindly limbs, and its eyes glowed in the darkness. My heart raced as I realized that we were in serious danger. I grabbed my partner's hand and we started to run, but the creature was faster. We could hear its footsteps behind us as we scrambled up a steep incline, hoping to escape its grasp. Just when we thought we were in the clear, the creature let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the forest. We knew we were still in danger and that there was no way we could outrun it forever.

As we pushed forward, we began to see other strange figures lurking in the shadows. Our heart sank as we realized that we were not alone in the woods. Whatever was out there with us was not of this world, and we were trapped in its domain. We had to find a way out, or else we would be at the mercy of these creatures until the end of our days. But as we ran deeper into the forest, we couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Our hearts were pounding, and our lungs were burning as we ran as fast as we could.

We didn't know where we were headed, but we knew we had to get away from those creatures. As we ran, the woods around us grew denser, and the path ahead became more treacherous. My partner stumbled over a route and fell to the ground, pulling me down with him. We scrambled to our feet, but it was too late. The creatures had caught up to us.

They were closing in on us from all sides, and we were trapped. Panic said and as we realized we had nowhere to go. We were surrounded by the creatures and they were closing in on us. I could hear their breath on the back of my neck and I could smell their foul, putrid scent. I was paralyzed with fear and I knew that our time was running out. Suddenly we heard a voice in the distance. It was faint, but it gave us hope. We knew we had to make a run for it and hope that whoever it was could help us. We darted towards the sound, hoping it would lead us to safety. As we ran, the creatures behind us howled in fury. They were closing in on us, but we could see a light in the distance. It was the Ranger Station, and we knew that if we could

just make it there, we would be safe. We sprinted towards the light, our hearts pounding in our chests. We burst through the door of the Ranger Station, gasping for air. The Ranger looked at us with concern and asked what had happened. We tried to explain, but our words came out in a jumbled mess. The ranger listened patiently, and when we had finished, he told us that we were lucky to be alive. He explained that the creatures we had encountered were an unknown rare species that lived deep in the woods. They were known to be aggressive and territorial, and they were not to be trifled with. We spent the rest of the night at the ranger station, safe and sound. But even as we slept, we could hear the creatures howling in the distance.

We knew that they were still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for their next victim. We had survived this time, but we knew that we could never let our guard down again. The woods were full of mysteries and dangers, and we had stumbled upon one of the darkest secrets they held. The next morning, we woke up with a renewed sense of urgency. We knew we had to get out of the woods as quickly as possible. We packed our bags, thanked the ranger, and set out on the trail. We hiked for hours, our eyes darting around the woods, searching for any signs of the creatures that had chased us the night before.

The sounds of the forest were eerily silent and we couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us. As we walked, we noticed that the trail had started to twist and turn in strange ways. It was almost as if the path was leading us in circles. We tried to stay focused, but the woods around us seemed to be shifting and changing, making it impossible to keep our bearings. Just as we were starting to feel lost, we saw a figure in the distance. It was a woman dressed in a ranger's uniform. She waved to us and we ran towards her, relieved to have finally found some help. The ranger introduced herself as Emily and offered to guide us out of the woods.

We followed her, trusting that she knew the way. As we walked, she told us about the strange occurrences that had been happening in the woods lately. People had been disappearing without a trace and there were reports of strange creatures roaming the woods at night. Emily had been investigating these reports and she had found evidence of something truly terrifying. As we walked, Emily suddenly stopped in her tracks. She looked at us, her face pale with fear. She pointed to a tree ahead of us and we could see what had frightened her. It was a symbol carved into the bark of the tree.

It was a circle with three lines intersecting it. It looked like nothing we had ever seen before. Emily told us that this symbol was a warning. It meant that we were in danger and that we should turn back. We tried to protest, but she was firm. She told us that we had to leave the woods immediately. leave the woods immediately and never come back. We turned back, following Emily's lead. As we walked, the woods seemed to close in around us, and the sounds grew louder and more ominous. We heard

footsteps behind us, and we knew that the creatures were following us once again. We ran, our hearts pounding in our chests. We could see the edge of the woods ahead of us, and we knew that we were almost there. Just as we were about to break free from the trees, we heard a deafening roar from behind us. We turned back to see the creatures, closing in on us. They were bigger and more ferocious than before, and we knew that we had no chance of outrunning them. As the creatures closed in on us, we braced for the worst. But then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished into thin air. We looked around, confused, and frightened. It was as if they had never been there at all. We stumbled out of the woods, our body shaking with fear. We never spoke

of our experience again, but the memory of those creatures stayed with us forever. We knew that we had come face to face with something truly otherworldly and that we had been lucky to escape with our lives. As I pulled up to the Ranger Station, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. This was my first day on the job as a Forest Ranger in this new area, and I was eager to get started. As I stepped out of my car and looked around, I was struck by the sheer beauty of the forest. Towering trees loomed overhead, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. As I made my way inside the Ranger Station, I was greeted by a few of my new colleagues.

They were a friendly bunch, but I couldn't help but notice that they seemed a bit on edge. When I asked them about the local wildlife, they grew quiet and exchanged nervous glances. As the day wore on, I tried to gather more information about the area, but everywhere I went, seemed hesitant to talk. It was as if there was some unspoken taboo about discussing the forest and its inhabitants. That night I settled into my new cabin, eager to get some rest before my first day on the job. But as I lay in bed, I heard a strange sound coming from outside. It was a low growling noise, like nothing I'd ever heard before. I got up and walked to the window, but I couldn't see anything in the darkness. Suddenly, the growling turned into a blood-curdling howl.

so loud that it made the walls of my cabin shake. I felt a sense of panic rising in my chest. What kind of creature could make such a terrifying noise? I tried to calm myself down, telling myself that it was probably just a wild animal. But as the night wore on, the sounds outside only grew more intense. I could hear scratching and clawing at the door and low growls that seemed to come from all around. I realized then that something was terribly wrong in this forest, something that was far beyond my understanding. And as the night stretched on, I began to fear that I might never make it out alive.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees, I realized that I had survived the night. The sounds that had kept me awake for hours had all of a sudden stopped, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. However, as I stepped outside my cabin, I saw that the ground was covered in strange footprints. They were too large to belong to any animal I knew of,

and they seemed to lead in every direction. The door of my cabin was covered in deep scratches as if something had been trying to claw its way inside. I tried to radio my supervisor, but my radio seemed to be malfunctioning. I decided that it was best to pack up my things and move to a nearby watchtower for a better view of the surrounding forest.

Once I reached the watchtower, I spent the day scanning the area with my binoculars, trying to spot anything unusual. But for the most part, everything seemed normal. There were no signs of any dangerous creatures, and the forest appeared to be as peaceful as ever. As the sun began to set, I prepared myself for another long night. I barricaded the door of the watchtower and set up my sleeping bag near the window so that I could keep an eye on the surrounding forest. Around midnight, I heard a piercing scream that seemed to echo through the forest.

It was like nothing I had ever heard before, and it made my blood run cold. I looked out of the window and my heart nearly stopped when I saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at me from behind a tree in the distance. I fumbled from my radio, hoping to call for backup, but all I heard was static. I knew then that I was completely alone, with no one to help me if something went wrong. The night stretched on, and the creature in the woods continued to scream and howl. I felt trapped and helpless, unsure of what to do. As the first light of dawn began to appear in the sky, the creature finally.

I finally disappeared back into the forest. I knew then that I had to find a way to protect myself. I spent the rest of the day gathering supplies and fortifying the watchtower as best as I could. But as the sun set once again, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me. I knew that the creature was out there and that it was only a matter of time before it came back for me. The heavy rain poured down relentlessly, pounding on the roof of the watchtower like a thousand angry fists. I knew that I was stuck there for another night, with no escape from the creature that roamed the forest. As the night wore on, the screaming started again, but this time, it was different.

It sounded like someone I knew, like one of my friends from back home. I couldn't believe it, was it possible that the creature was mimicking human voices. The screaming continued, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment. I felt a creeping sense of unease settle over me as if something terrible was about to happen. Then, all of a sudden, the radio crackled to life. It was my supervisor, urgently trying to reach me. Get out of there. He said, his voice trembling with fear.

You're in grave danger. We've had reports of strange creatures in that area, and we don't know what they're capable of. You need to get out now, while you still can. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as I realized the full extent of the danger I was in. The creature outside was not just some wild animal, but something much more sinister and malevolent. I knew then that I had to get out of the forest as soon as possible,

before it was too late. I quickly packed up my things, grabbed my flashlight, and prepared to leave the watchtower. But as I opened the door, I froze in terror. Standing right outside was the creature, its glowing yellow eyes fixed on me. For a moment, we stared at each other, locked in a deadly standoff.

Then, with a guttural roar, the creature lunged at me, its massive claws flashing in the dim light. I stumbled backwards, fumbling from my flashlight, as the creature closed in for the kill. But at the last moment, I managed to shine the light directly in its eyes, causing it to recoil in pain and confusion. Taking advantage of the creature's momentary disorientation, I bolted out of the tower and ran as fast as I could through the rain-soaked forest.

I could hear the creature howling and rage behind me, but I didn't dare look back. Finally, after what felt like ours, I stumbled out of the forest and onto the road where my supervisor and a team of other rangers were waiting for me. They whisked me away to safety, and I never looked back. To this day, I still don't know exactly what kind of creature it was that stalked me through the forest that night. But I know that I never want to experience anything like it again. Growing up where I did, there was always more to do in the woods than in town. We had one bowling alley and a few bars, but that was all.

Most kids played in the forest. Climbing trees, playing tag or even hide and seek, with the understanding of potential hunting, and wildlife dangers, and the bridge. The bridge stretched over a riverbank, but halfway through was a small gate with a sign telling us to not trespass. Me and the other kids always theorized

about what might have been on the other side. One kid said they were doing construction, another said it goes down a big hillside kids have been known to fall down. One night I decided to take a new camera I got, and told the gang I was going to sneak over the gate and see what was on the other side. And if I come back with a picture, they owe me $10 each.

They all agreed, and I took my small flashlight and camera and made out into the dark woods. The dark wasn't a problem, however, seeing as I knew the forest like the back of my hand. After about 10 minutes of walking, I make my way to the bridge. It was amazing as I felt like an explorer about to chart the uncharted and explore a whole new world. By the time I had got my courage together, I jumped over the gate and made my way to the other side of the bridge.

As soon as I got to the other side, it became darker. It had gone from being pitch black to downright abyssal. My flashlight didn't light up much around me, and when I looked up, I saw the sky had gone from stars and mooned to dark amethyst purple with crimson clouds. I was beginning to panic, I pulled out my camera and took a shot of the sky, a clear photo surprisingly. I then ventured further down the path knowing that the picture wasn't enough evidence to get my friends to part way with their allowance. My flashlight stayed on the path which was becoming less of a dirt road and more of an obscure pile of broken sticks and leaves. I shine my flashlight around me and what I saw paralyzed me in fear.

The trees had eyes. The base of the tree was as dark as the atmosphere and seemed to devour the light I shined on it. The eyes were the same as the sky, some amethyst, some crimson. I took lots of pictures, forget the bet. I was going to sell this to scientist and explorers. At least that's what my dumb kid brain thought. When I got to a clearing in the woods, I ducked down into the thicket immediately. I saw people, humanoid figures, and long robes with deep hoods.

I couldn't make out the color, because depending how the torches around them reflected the light, it was some variant of black, crimson, or purple. That's when I noticed the torch lights were green like emeralds. I raised my camera and silently took some photos, the flash was eaten by the darkness and the pictures came out blurry. They gathered around a monolith and began chanting as some light was pulled from the sky, and channeled into the rock. The monolith had patterns on it, but they were ineffable ruins and finally,

above the rock formation a terrible darkness began to stir. The being of shadow bared an ethereal shape with wings and horns of a rim. The only color that could be distinguished were the eyes, one violet and one crimson. I went to lift my camera, but upon seeing the thing I dropped it and ran as fast as I could. I ran for what felt like eight hours before I saw the bridge, and with the last of my strength, I jumped it and then collapsed. I woke up in a hospital with my mother and father at my side. They told me, my friends found me passed out from dehydration at the bridge. I was asleep for two days after my friends found me. I lost the camera, so my prize was forfeited. I honestly

couldn't care less about the prize, I tried to tell them about what I saw over the gate, but they tell me it was just a bad dream. So, what prompted me to tell this story now, so many years after the ordeal? Because to this day it has affected me negatively. I have a phobia of the forest, mirrors, and the dark. I also do not look out my window at night, because the last time I did I saw one of the hooded figures outside, waiting for me. I remember the day vividly. It was a beautiful summer evening, the kind that makes you want to sit outside and watch the sunset. I was staying with my friend, Kate, at her family's cabin in the woods. It was a remote location surrounded by tall trees and thick bushes.

As we sat on the porch, sipping iced tea and chatting, I had no idea what horrors were about to unfold. We decided to take a walk through the woods, as we often did in the evenings. It was quiet, except for the sound of the leaves rustling beneath our feet. The sun had almost set, and the shadows were growing longer. We walked for what felt like hours until we stumbled upon an old abandoned house. It was hidden behind a thick patch of bushes, and I could barely make out its silhouette through the leaves. The house was old, and it looked like it hadn't been lived in for years. Its roof was caved in, and the windows were boarded up.

Kate, being the adventurous type, was eager to explore it. I, on the other hand, was hesitant, but I followed her anyway, As we entered the house, we were met with a musty smell that made me cough. The walls were covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. It was dark except for the beams of sunlight that streamed in through the holes in the roof. We walked through the old living room and Kate noticed a staircase that led to the upper floor. She insisted we go up there, but I didn't want to. Something filled off about the house, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Reluctantly, I followed her up the stairs. as we climbed the creaky old steps, the feeling of unease intensified. We finally reached the top floor, and I noticed that there was only one room. The door was partially open, and I could see a faint light coming from inside. Kate pushed the door open, and we stepped inside. It was then that I saw her, a woman sitting in a rocking chair by the window, looking out at the woods. She didn't acknowledge us, and I couldn't see her face clearly, but I could tell she was old. Kate walked towards her, but I grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

Something's not right here, I whispered, feeling my heart racing in my chest. Just then, the woman turned around, and I gasped. Her face was twisted in anger, her eyes cold and unfeeling. I could feel the fear rising in me as she stood up, staring directly at us. Kate didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, and she walked towards her, her hand outstretched. But as soon as she got close, the woman lunged at her, revealing a long, sharp knife hidden behind her back. Kate screamed as the woman threw the knife and I was frozen in fear. I watched in terror as Kate fell to the ground, hurt. I tried to run, but the

woman blocked the door, trapping me inside. She advanced towards me, the knife glinting in the dim light. I was sure I was going to die, but then I woke up. It was all just a nightmare, or so I thought. I looked around and I saw the same abandoned house outside my window. The same woman sitting in the rocking chair by the window, and Kate, lying next to me, not alive. I don't know what happened that night, whether it was real or just a dream. But one thing is for sure, I'll never forget the terror that I felt that day, and I'll never forget the feeling of waking up to the same scene that had haunted me in my nightmares. It was like my mind had been projecting my fears into reality, or maybe I had stumbled upon something in those woods that I was not

supposed to see. I quickly called for help, but it was too late for Kate. The authorities came and investigated the area, but they never found any evidence of the woman or the abandoned house. It was as if they had vanished into thin air. The incident haunted me for a long time, and I struggled to come to terms with what had happened. Years went by, and I tried to forget about the incident, but it always lingered in the back of my mind. It wasn't until one day, when I was browsing through old photos that I found a picture of Kate and me in front of the abandoned house. I couldn't believe my eyes as I looked at the picture. The same woman was sitting in the rocking chair, looking out at the woods. It wasn't just a nightmare. It had really happened. That realization

left me with a sense of unease that I couldn't shake off. How had we missed seeing her in the picture? Was it a coincidence or something more sinister? It was a mystery that would never be solved. Since that day, I've never gone back to those woods, and I've warned anyone who would listen to stay away from that area. The incident changed me in ways I couldn't even explain. I don't know what the future holds, but I know one thing for sure. Some mysteries are better left unsolved, and some places are better left unexplored. Growing up, I always loved visiting my aunt and uncle in the Pacific Northwest. They had a secluded house out in one of the sprawling pine forests,

and owned a large portion of the surrounding untouched land. It was lonely, but not lonesome, far away, but not without a touch of civilization within driving distance. My uncle Vern built the place from the ground up. Together with my Aunt Ellie, they gradually renovated it from a small cabin into the kind of place they could have made a ridiculous amount of money had they converted it into a rental property.

They loved living there too much to even consider it. Every year, right at the end of summer, my folks and I always made the trek up to visit them. Twelve hours in the car both ways, but entirely worth it. Watching the sage-brush-infested desertscape slowly transform into the lush greenery of Washington State, honestly felt as if I was venturing into a fantastical place, lost wholly in another time. I grew real close to my aunt Ellie amongst those trips. She really was something else.

While Uncle Vern was a contractor, turned carpenter, turned master artisan, making a mint performing renovations for folks who did want to turn their rural slices of life into lucrative rentals. Ellie was this hermit survivalist that wasn't so much living out in nature, but living as a part of it. She knew everything there was to know about the surrounding woods. Literally, she had an encyclopedic knowledge about every plant and critter within a hundred miles. I memory alone, she could trace out paths into the forgotten depths of the woods, reaching beautiful retreats you typically find only on some travel. exploration blog. Most importantly of all, she loved to show me all of these neat things,

and I couldn't get enough of learning about everything she told me. It's largely why I kept up the tradition of going to visit her. Even after I grew up and started living on my own, Ellie would still call every year and ask if I would be making the trip. With how amazing she made every visit feel, it was impossible to say no, even more so after Uncle Vern passed. There was no exception when she called that particular year. We made the usual arrangements, and my departure couldn't come soon enough. The moment I was on the road, bound for the deep forests once more, I remember my heart soaring in a way I haven't experienced since,

and possibly never will again. It was early evening when I arrived. The sun was already dipping low as I pulled into the gravel driveway, its distant light not quite able to pierce the enveloping shroud of nature. That deep quiet took hold immediately after stepping out of my car, Even with only enough of a breeze to occasionally nip at my nose, I could hear it rustling through the pine needles. There was no one within a five-minute drive of this place. Curiously, the house was dark.

Excited as I was for the trip, I made sure to call Ellie that morning to confirm that she was expecting me. She sounded ecstatic when we spoke, so I quickly reasoned her being out at this hour, could be any number of things. Grocery shopping in town came to mind as I made it to the front porch. There also might have been some kind of emergency at the workshop she inherited alongside Uncle Vern's business. Or maybe, just maybe, she was out there in the woods as she typically was and had simply lost track of time. Didn't matter much, I had a key and the alarm code memorized. I let myself in without any issue and dropped my bags off near the door. There was time enough for those later as I was drawn further into the beautiful home both she and Uncle Vern had put so many years of their lives into.

The floor plan wasn't anything special. The front door opened into a short hallway that had Uncle Vern's now unused office just off to the left. At the other end of the hall was the living room. A lofty two-story arrangement with tall windows lining the far wall that looked out to the rear of the property. Every inch of those walls was polished wood, with the columns separating the windows being hand carved by Uncle Vern himself with an ornate woodland motif. Against the left wall, aside the stairs leading up to the second floor, an alcove housed a not especially modern entertainment center. It's wide, adorning archway in the carved mural above of two anglers fly fishing on a river

where more of my uncle's masterwork carpentry. I took it all in, swiftly retreating back to the simpler days of my youth. I was all but ready to sink into the sofa and turn my brain off, before I remembered my luggage was still in the cramped entryway. Hoisting my bags up the stairs to the second floor, the guest room I typically used during my stays was right there at the top. I glanced down the connecting hall to both the bathroom and Ellie's room, finding them just as dark as the rest of the house. By the time I finished unpacking, she still hadn't put in an appearance. Still not overly concerned, I headed back downstairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door onto the rear porch.

There was someone else here I could visit with, of sorts. In keeping with my aunt's nature concerning nature, the rear of the property was dedicated wholly to being as self-sufficient as possible. Near the large porch in the back, she kept a small herb garden that paled in comparison to the much larger acreage further out, dedicated to fruit and veggie cultivation. In front of the farmland, a small barn stood with a fenced-off pasture large enough to accommodate a single steer. Hank was his name, originally purchased when Uncle Vern wanted to try his hand at cattle raising. However, upon arrival, Ellie promptly deemed Hank was too damned cute to be eaten. Since then, the old boy had been living the good life as an entirely.

pampered pet. The big oaf was about as friendly as most dogs and just as lovable. However, just like Ellie, old Hank was nowhere to be seen. Both his pasture and the barn were empty. The massing of hay he slept and was there in the corner as expected, and not a single thing otherwise out of place. As I gawk dumbfounded at the empty barn, some things started to click. Hank might have been the reason Ellie wasn't here to greet me. This wouldn't have been the first time Hank had escaped and wandered off. He could be out there roaming the forests like the oversized, innocent goof he was, with Ellie hot on his trail, grabbing my phone from my pocket. I was about to try a call to my aunt when I noticed the no-service message featured prominently upon the screen.

That was rather strange, as I never had any issues with my phone up here. It was then that I remembered Ellie had mentioned that her own cell reception had been spotty recently. My conversation with her that morning had only been possible when I called her actual landline. With that realization, I made my way back into the house to try and reach her by calling from there. Along with the TV setup and the alarm, the cordless telephones were about the only hints of modern technology about the house. Sure, the kitchen had a full range of common large and small appliances, but were all dated by a minimum of 20 years. Dialing her number on the handheld, the call failed to ring even once before it went straight to voicemail. Seeing no immediate alternative, I left her a message that I had arrived safely.

and I was concerned about her and Hank. I tried to assure myself everything was probably fine and remember that she was beyond capable and about every situation that came calling around here. But I just couldn't. Wandering over to the TV, I flipped it on and parked myself on the couch with the requisite remotes in hand.

The silent shifting tides of static filled the screen, and I began hunting through the local channels for any sort of news program reporting local troubles. Problem was, the only thing I could get out of the TV, was that same shower of static on every channel. Concern mounting deeper, I tried the satellite box next. It powered on readily, but when I swapped to its input, only a reception error came up on the screen.

Even the guide failed to load properly. By the time I had given up on the TV in frustration, it was well into the evening. I stood facing the hall back out to the front door, keys in hand, trying to decide if it was worth a trip into town to ask around. I was still half convinced I was making a little. mountain out of a molehill at this point, and any moment Ellie would walk in with a story to tell. Though, honest, I believe what held me back at that moment was my lack of knowledge about the area beyond the woods. Sure, I'd been coming up here since I was a kid, but most of that time spent

was largely in the house, or the surrounding woods. Occasionally, we'd make a trip into the nearby town, but only over to the diner, Uncle Vern's Workshop, or the gas station. I could tell you plenty about the clearing a five-minute hike northwest through the pines, but when it came to the town itself, I was an absolute tourist. Eventually my apprehension won out, and I resigned myself to making dinner instead. I found the fridge stocked, likely in anticipation of my visit. I quickly threw together something for the both of us, hoping she would return sooner than later. After dinner, I tried the TV again with no luck.

Trying to find any alternative to simply fretting away, I snatched an old, old Earl Stanley Gardner novel from Uncle Vern's office. Not sure how far into I reached before I passed out there on the couch and the living room. Can't say I slept long as a house shaking crash of thunder woke me around midnight. Days from the abrupt awakening. Not even sure if it was actually thunder that I heard, I dragged myself over to the large windows. Sure enough, a storm had descended, with an absolute onslaught of staccato drops hammering against the house. It sounded bad out there.

like dirt roads washing away kind of bad. I immediately checked the house and found it no less empty then before I passed out. Ellie's dinner was still on the table, cold and uneaten, and all I could think about was her being stuck somewhere out there in the rain. Grabbing my phone again, no service was still displayed, meaning no messages had come in while I dozed. I went for the cordless and punched in Ellie's cell number once more. Momentary relief came when it didn't go directly to voicemail.

That faded shortly thereafter the room. ringing sound cut out as someone answered on the other end. They didn't say anything, not even after I said hello and asked after Ellie. The only thing I heard from the other end was a rough, ragged gasping. Unnerved as I was by the sound, I quickly blurted an apology, and something along the lines of wrong number before ending the call. Trying to settle my racing heart, I rationalized the whole thing as simply waking someone in the middle of the night with my untimely call. Calm somewhat returned, but didn't stay after confirmed. that it was Ellie's number that I had dialed.

Thumbing the redial anxiously, I put my ear back to the receiver anticipating the ringing once more at the other end. Only it never came. Instead, it was those same painful, staggered gasps. After shouting myself hoarse to no response at what I could only imagine was an injured Ellie on the other end of the line,

I hung up and went for the emergency numbers posted on the fridge. Finding the contact info for the sheriff, I punched in the numbers, checked all were correct, and fumbled for the talk button. I couldn't have been waiting for all that long before someone answered, but each droning pulse of the call ringing out heightened the panic. I wasn't sure what was going on with Helly, but if those calls were any indication, it definitely wasn't right.

I nearly leapt right off the couch when the call connected, and the voice at the other end announced I had successfully contacted the Stevens County Sheriff. After a stretch of rapid fire exposition, the deputy stopped me short and calmed me down. After a deep breath, I was able to explain who I was, and all about Aunt Ellie's disappearance. He asked me a few more questions to better establish my identity, and repeated a few bits back to ensure he had taken down everything correctly. Unfortunately, that was all that could be done at that point.

While the deputy promised to send someone out eventually, it was unlikely it would be any time soon. The storm had hit the area harder than anyone had anticipated, and the unpaved roads outside of town were far from safe. That was nothing unreasonable. As much as I wanted this all to be over, and my aunt home safe, there was only so much that could actually be done. Even if she was lost out there in the woods, it's not like a search could be safely conducted with how bad the storm was. Without anything else to do, I convinced myself to try and sleep instead of worrying. I checked the locks around the house and made sure the security alarm was properly armed. Not that I was entirely expecting trouble, just a healthy precaution.

precaution. I then hauled myself upstairs. I tried to focus on my bedtime routine to help steer my mind away from the dark thoughts that kept bubbling to the surface. I sure as hell couldn't get those raspy gasps. Out of my mind, even as I headed toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. Convinced it wasn't something my panic-stricken mind had trumped up in the heat of the moment, my imagination began running wild with the possibilities. Not a single one of them even remotely pleasant. Preoccupied as I was, I suffered an awful start as a flash of lightning came in through the window at the end of the hall. My attention focused just in time to catch sight of the storm's fury ripping through the darkened sky. And trance by its brilliance, I was drawn to the window in hopes of catching sight of an equally marvelous repetition.

Another glaring barrage erupted, branching through the sky brighter than the last. In that fleeting moment, it illuminated the whole of the property below. Maybe my memory was filling in the gaps, but I swear I could clearly. see all of Hank's pasture and the adjoining barn. That and what could have been a figure lurking there at the far fence. My skin rippled as I tried to make sense of the dark shadow. It stood out starkly against the blanched landscape burned in my eyes. Someone was out there and I had never felt sure of anything else in my entire life. Immediately my thoughts turned to a waterlocked Ellie, barely managing to drag herself out of the storm. Without realizing, I was already halfway back down

the stairs. It wasn't until I reached the living room floor that the possibility crossed my mind that it could be someone else out there, someone that might account for why my aunt and her pet's deer were now missing. I froze there, white-knuckling the banister, when I recalled the deputy's words about it being unlikely they would be able to send anyone out here. At that moment, I knew I should have gone back upstairs, barricaded myself in the guest room, called the sheriff, and start praying that I'd be alive to see morning. I couldn't do it, though. The eye would. The eye idea that it was Ellie in need of help simply wouldn't leave my mind. Instead, I made my way over to the fireplace, guided by the various nightlights placed in wall sockets around the house,

and grabbed the poker. I then passed through the darkened kitchen and into the adjoining mudroom. I was reaching for the switch that would turn on the rear porch's floodlights when I stopped suddenly. It took me a minute to figure why. As I was standing there, listening to my own frantic breathing, I realized that it was the only thing I could hear. Not a a particularly uncommon thing this deep in the woods where good insulation deafened the sounds of the forest at night. But why couldn't I hear the rain anymore? Before any reasonable answer took form, a bolt of thunderless lightning tore open the night. Shining through the large window on the door, it cast an impossible shadow through the mudroom. Someone, or something, lingered at

the threshold, towering well over the door's height. I couldn't move. The rain-choked night of the rural woodland had reduced everything to utter darkness. Even without the clouds and the rain, unless the exterior lights were on, you often couldn't see more than a couple feet in front of you after sunset around here. That said, I could feel something was out there, every hair on my body standing on end. Primal sensation had taken hold. Ancient fear, an unspoken reminder that there were reasons why we were once undeniably afraid of the dark. There wasn't even time to try and explain away the dread washing over me. As I stood there, shivering from a cold I couldn't feel, my in.

ears begin to itch. Faint at first, but growing louder over the silent emptiness, a simple repetition filled the void. Footsteps. As I realized it was coming from the door, another ill-fated flash of lightning arrived and the impossible shadow remained cast. In the brief moment as the light burned, I vaguely remember bloodless skin, pale near blue, pulled tightly over a frame far too elongated, a finger with too many knuckles extending towards the door. I choked on my scream. back through the house full pelt, merely sliding into the wall at the foot of the stairs, up and up and up, door slamming loudly. That was it.

It's all that I can remember amidst the blur separating scene, seeing what I saw, and the first gray light of dawn framed by the drapes. The pain in my hands came first thereafter, having been wrapped tightly around the fireplace poker all night. Shakily, I rose from where I had been kneeling opposite the bed from the door, trying to take careful stock of both surroundings and situation. Aside from a few cramped muscles and a racing heart, I was largely fine. The guest room door was still firmly shut.

I held my breath a good long while, remembering what sent me running up here, terrified that at any moment the tapping would resume upon the door. I heard the rain steadily pounding upon the roof long before my chest started to burn. Other than that, the house brooded in stony silence. I reminded myself that if someone had tried to force their way in, the alarm would have been screaming so loud. That set my mind at ease long enough to recall I had brought the cordless phone up here last night before all the commotion. Dialing up the sheriff's station from the phone's memory was easy enough.

I could only hope the threat of a prowler on the property would be enough incentive for them to send someone over sooner than later. I was anxious to the point of bouncing my knees as I sat on the edge of the bed. The moment someone answered, I fell straight into frenzy. Ranting close to gibberish, I hastily tried to recount the prior night's encounter. Managing to calm my madness in a kind and concise manner, it was clear I was not this deputy's first stark, raving lunatic. Once my composure returned, I told him all about the prowler, though I left out more of the incredulous details. At that point, I wasn't exactly sure if my mind was just playing tricks on me. After taking everything down, the deputy promised me that he would see what he could do about making this a top priority for the department.

Given a promise that someone would be by within the hour, pending hazard. driving conditions from the storm still in progress, I reluctantly hung up. For a good long while, I sat there listening to the stillness of the house. Nothing stirred within, and there was only the rain falling upon the roof and windows. The quiet gave me heart, or at least enough to go take a look around. Upon muffled footfalls, fireplace poker clenched firmly, I began roaming the house. I checked every room, opened every closet, and cupboard. I concluded I was assuredly alone after checking the mudroom with no small amount of apprehension. No one lurk therein, and the easily broken glass pain remained wholly intact. The door was locked, dead bolted, while the alarm interface nearby proudly

displayed armed. Feeling a bit more secure about things, and confidently attributing last night's scare to an overactive imagination, I settled on taking a shower while I waited for the deputy to arrive. I was in and out rather quickly. Though lessened, the lingering threat of a home invasion prompted swiftness more than missing the deputies. Untimely arrival. After showering, I headed into the living room to try the TV again. The satellite was still complaining about reception, and nothing local was coming through either. Fortunately, I didn't have to grouse over it too long, as the deputy arrived shortly thereafter. However, I wasn't about to let anyone inside without peeking out the window in Uncle Verne's office first. When I saw the clearly marked Stevens County Sheriff Insignia on the truck,

I opened the door without any further hesitation. The deputy himself was a trim man of no remarkable features aside from the uniform and badge. These days, I couldn't picture him even if I really tried. He asked me a lot of the same questions as we systematically move through the house. I rehashed both Ellie's disappearance as well as the story of the prowler. It didn't take much to convince him it was worth taking a look around the property exterior. He gladly did it twice over before we reconvened on the backboard. porch. Mostly a whole lot of nothing was what he came back with. If anyone had been here last night,

the persistent rainfall washed out any and all tracks. The only other thing that caught his eye was that the satellite dish up on the roof had been torn free of its perch. Something else he attributed to the weather. Aside from more reassurances that they would begin looking into Ellie's disappearance immediately and another promise to send someone by later that night to check in on things, nothing else could be done then and there. Before leaving, he mentioned that the department had their hands full with a number of accidents brought on by the sudden, an unrelenting storm. He stressed that I should exercise all due caution, and it might be a good idea to stay inside

until the storm let up. So there I was, alone yet again, and largely unable to do anything productive. Anxious and upset, I was stuck trying to stave off imaginings of all the worst-case scenarios. Before I could start screaming and sheer panicked front of the same. I resolved to head into town to see if anyone had seen Ellie recently. Hazardous road conditions be damned. Deciding Uncle Verne's workshop might be as good a place as any to start, I grabbed my keys and ventured out into the rain.

Once in my car, I wasted no time slotting the key in the ignition. The electrical system came to life, as expected, but the engine repeatedly failed to turn over. Blancing down to the fuel gauge, the display set empty in no uncertain terms. an impossibility to join all the others currently surrounding me. I had refilled the tank while driving through town yesterday. There was no way the 30-minute trip thereafter could have depleted the entirety of the tank. Getting out of the car again, I recalled a time before where my car

wouldn't start due to the gas cap not being fully tightened. While it was highly unlikely that was the case this time around, I still felt compelled to check it. As I reached the rear of my car, however, the faintest touch of gasoline hit my nose, faint but present in the same fashion that a gas station smells of the stuff. The scent drew me downward to beneath the car itself. It grew only stronger there, not particularly staggering,

but strong enough to confirm that it was gasoline I was smelling. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I turned on its flashlight. I nearly dropped it when I saw what was waiting for me. Just past the rear passenger door, the undercarriage was gouged deeply. A quartet of long, violent streaks had torn through it, more than likely, the gas tank beneath. I may have taken a hard bump about a mile or so down the road when I was coming in, but there was no way it caused the severity of the damage I was looking at.

No, something else did this. After pulling myself up in a day's state, my gaze unconsciously fell upon the woods opposite the road from the driveway. Darkened from the perpetual storm, the deep shade beneath the pine boughs turned sinister as that creeping sensation of being watched prickled my neck. I didn't actually see anything lurking there, or at least I don't think I did. I was gripped by the overwhelming sensation that someone, or something, just beyond the tree line, was watching me,

watching and daring me to try and leave. I sprinted hard back to the house, slamming the door and bolting it. When I mustered enough courage to peer out through the door's window, I genuinely expected to see that same haunting shadow bounding up the porch. Nothing was out there, but that didn't make me feel any better. Even after I triple-checked every lock in the house, I still hold myself up in the guest room, almost going so far as to slide the heavy dresser in front of the door. The day might have only been half over at that point, but I was already feeling exhausted.

Bargaining with myself to do at the moment the alarm should sound, I wearily grabbed the cordless phone to call the sheriff yet again. No use. I must have listened to ten straight minutes of different musak styling of 90s alternative music before I hung up. The deputy wasn't kidding when they said they were going to be busy that day. Dejected, but still far too antsy to simply sit on my hands. And wait, I decided doing anything would be better than stewing in my own anxieties. Well, almost anything, I still wasn't feeling brave enough to chance wandering around outside in the storm.

So I took to searching the house instead. Looking for something, anything, which might allude to Ellie's disappearance. I started in Uncle Verne's office and methodically tore through the house. for even the slightest inkling of foul play or some sort of intended destination. It wasn't until much later, nearly dark outside, that I finally made my way into my aunt's bedroom. Last place to look, at least inside. I still really wasn't up for checking out the barn, throwing through her actual personal stuff without her there felt bad. Hesidently, I opened the keepsake box on her dresser. I was actually shocked she still had the chintzy

plastic earrings in there that I gave her as a birthday present when I was a kid. Beneath those lay Uncle Vern's wedding ring. As I picked up the gold band to admire it closer, it slipped from my grasp and hit the hardwood floor with a bounce. It went scattering across the floor and beneath the nightstand next to Ellie's bed. Chasing after it, I found that the gap which it had slipped through was too narrow for my hand to fit. With no other choice but to move it, I displaced the lamp from atop it to the bed and easily

hefted it off to the side. Waiting beneath was not only Uncle Vern's ring. but what looked to be a photograph facing away as it leaned against the wall. Figuring it was nothing more than an old picture had slipped off the nightstand, I reached down for it. As my fingers brushed its edge, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise, a sudden tightness in my throat, something telling me that I really didn't want to see what this particular picture depicted. Retracting my grasp, I left it as it lie. A few glances over my shoulder to the deepening shadows from down the unlit hall-proofing,

insufficient, and I turned to give them my full attention. I must have stayed posed like that, staring at nothing, for a good few minutes before the ominous sensation that the dark was watching me finally faded. A bit more determined that my imagination was yet again running itself ragged, I turned back and carefully scooped up the picture. With a few steadying breaths, I flipped the glossy side up, bracing myself for the possibility that this was going to be Aunt Ellie's last few moments alive captured sinisterly upon film. It was almost funny how confused I was when I realized what I was actually looking at. Instead of something gruesome, it was a half-focused shot of a woodland scene. I recognized the same styled pines as those surrounding the property perched high above a

small hollow. Large boulders free of overgrowth formed a ring around whoever had captured the photograph. There, upon the one deepest within the hollow, for what I first mistook as a shadow gradually assumed its true form. The stone had been scarred heavily and charred black. Etched deeply upon it, numerous branching lines surged outward in all directions from a single, intensely cleft starburst. Drawn immediately to it, I stared hard as my mind tried to puzzle together where I had seen this before. I froze on the spot, my ears perking and straining. Flashes of light burned into memory, the long shadow cast. My eyes traced the wounded stone in the photograph once more.

And possibly tall was the silhouette these lines formed, with a large grouping surging together into a long, outstretched limb. Then and there, I could hear it, I swear I could hear it, echoing from somewhere in the house, loud footsteps. Fueled by pure horror alone, I bounded toward the door and threw it shut. Only after I had dragged the dressing over in front of the door did I realize I had instinctually sealed myself in the bedroom. Crouched as I was, the whole of my weight bracing against both dresser, and door, I

remained deathly still, listening to everything and anything in the house. The photograph remained as I left it, having landed face down when I dropped it. I could do nothing else, save stare intensely at its blank backside. My ears stretched to painful ends as I continued listening to the silence. My legs began to cramp as the low rumble of thunder overhead brought me back to reality. By the time my day's panic ended, the last streaks of sunlight were but a memory. Focusing intently, I could hear the rain hitting the roof once more, with erratic flashes of lightning coming through the window. Dragging myself back up, I was trying to get the blood moving back through my legs when the landline began ringing. Startled at first, but that was quickly dismantled when I realized it could be the sheriff station, someone from town in the know, or even Ellie herself calling.

I made my way over to the base on the untouched nightstand, frowning when its paired handset was nowhere to be found. Taking only a moment to check between the stand and the bed to see if it had fallen there, I then threw myself upon the dresser in hopes to move it before voicemail answered in my stead. With some furious tugging, the bedroom door came open, and I was halfway down the hall when ringing chimes ceased abruptly. That didn't stop me from entering the guest room where I knew at least one of the handsets was waiting for me. Sure enough, it was on the dresser where I had left it. Picking it up, I thumbed the button to display the caller ID and my heart practically punched straight through my chest.

It was the same number I'd become far too familiar with since arriving here. Ellie's cell number. Mashing the callback button, I held the receiver to my ear, nerves fraying as I waited for the tone to begin ringing out. A crackled click came through, and then nothing. Frantically turning my blurry gaze back upon the handsets display again, it showed the call was connected, but I still didn't hear anything coming through. I began shouting into the phone, desperately crying out from my aunt, asking if she was okay, if everything was all right.

Nothing came through. Only as I was about to hang up and try again, did I hear something from the other end. Those same slow and ragged gasps. I put the receiver back to my ear and had begun ranting anew when I was stopped short by a voice coming through the other end. It's too late.

Quiet, resigned, but definitely not. not Ellie. It's too late, came the whisper again, it's too late. A numbness began spreading through me as I slowly lowered the phone. The decisive click of disconnection told me whoever was on the other end had nothing else to say. Within, the last bastion of reason feverishly trying to decipher the cryptic message was soon overwhelmed by the stark emptiness of shock. I didn't stay that way for long as the clattering of the handset on the floor as it slipped my grasp brought me back to my senses. I was honestly startled by how loud it was crashing into the floor. Between its echoing impact and the pounding already thumping away in my ears,

it was hard to hear anything else. It was too late, I realized thereafter, as the frenetic pounding of my heart grew louder still. The rain, the thunder, all of it gone. I could see the lightning still flashing through the window, its glare displaying my shadow upon the wall opposite. Yet the air remained still. Gingerly, I crept toward the door, seeking to shut it aside, silently as I could. I hadn't even begun reaching for it when another eruption of light filled the

darkened heavens. It wasn't only my shadow on the wall this time. I whirled around, throat closing fast over a screen never heard. I was alone, facing a darkened window whereupon noiseless raindrops splattered incessantly. Nothing penetrated the awaiting gloom, the dark night of the forest besieged by the storm held complete. This time I didn't stop to confirm if my phantom stalker was lurking outside the window. I surged blindly through the door. I wasn't sure where my feet were carrying me, but I was willing so long as they carried me away from there. I didn't actually get far. As I mentioned, the guest room was near the top of the stairs leading down into the living room. Pure instinct held me firmly in place, teetering upon the edge of the topmost step.

From beyond the room below, muffled and heard as if through plugged ears, came the sound of the alarm wailing in desperate and muted tones. My panic only deepened as my thoughts blurred into one frothing mess that demanded sanctuary. I was going to retreat into the guestroom when a creeping chill paralyzed me once more, just as distant and suppressed as the alarms cries, so too were the familiar beeps of the disarm code being entered. The noise dropped off sharply, leaving me alone and shivering silence. My grip upon the banister tightened all but to the point of breakage as I watched a ponderous shadow drift between the now dimming bulbs of the scattered nightlights below. When it reached the foot of the stairs, I still couldn't see what was now lumbering up toward me.

No footsteps echoed as they always did with someone moving through the predominantly wooded living room. The third stair failed to creak as it did when any amount of weight was placed upon it. Instead, my ears were filled with the sound of ragged and raspy breathing. Bordering on absolute lunacy, I ran. Back down the hall into Ellie's room and the room. through the door shut. Between the swiftly closing gap, the shadow was seen rushing silently down the hall after me. Lock clicked easily into place, the dresser groaning across the floor. I didn't breathe again until both its weight and mine were firmly against the door. Collapsing, I sobbed as I leaned

against the dresser, driven to tears by a thick concoction of fear and frustration. As I pounded my fist against the floor in despair, I was answered by the dull buzz of the overhead light now intensely brightening. The droning noise of surging electricity came to a fever pitch, and before I could turn my gaze properly upon the sharpening glare, a loud pop preceded both shattering glass and immediate darkness. Forcing a hand over my mouth to suffocate the shrieks of surprise, a dreadful clarity within told me how pointless it was. Whatever was out there already knew I was in here. The way in which the doork rattled violently as the lock held it firmly in place told me as much. Then, all at once, it simply stopped. The knob was stilled, the groan of the doorframe,

as the hinges grated against them fell off into nothingness. Another flash of lightning through windows drew my gaze as I heaved my panicked gasps, against my hand still pressed to mouth. I waited for it to appear beyond the glass, as it had when it first chased me from the guest room. I waited for the next flash to cast that long, impossible shadow over me as it had the night before in the mudroom. I waited for the slow tapping, its rhythm already echoing in my ears until it sounded upon the door behind me. Footsteps. Gentle, unobtrusive, and yet harrowing enough to make my very soul burn with oppressive dread. Balling uncontrollably now, I pleaded for it to leave. Just leave, and let me be. Let me in, came a voice that struggled to form the words between ragged gasps. It sounded distant and distorted,

like listening to someone on the other end of a poorly connected phone call. Let me in. and then came the words that stick with me even to this day. Words I had heard so many times before that now leave me in frantic shivers. Something often heard even in that very house, echoing throughout my childhood. I want to show you something neat that I found. I have no idea what happened after that. It's all gone, still gone, nothing but a long stretch of repressed darkness remains. The next thing I can actually remember was gradually coming back into awareness in a hospital room,

being treated for shock, severe exposure, and a number of other smaller injuries. Apparently I had gone missing, and a couple of deputies found me roadside some 60 miles away from Ellie's house a few days after the encounter. I was conscious, but completely incoherent at the time. They had to fly me by helicopter to the next town over for treatment. After recovering, at least physically, I was released to go back home. The sheriff was still investigating Ellie's disappearance, but I couldn't add anything, more aside from what I could remember about the intruder. I left out the details that I couldn't, that no one could, properly explain. But that was the end of my involvement. For a good long while,

they kept looking for her. During that time, I was institutionalized for bouts of violent delirium. Whenever a thunderstorm descended, I eventually overcame the dangerous outbursts, but I still see a therapist now and again, and I need earplugs and a sleep mask to make it through a stormy night. A few days ago, just as I was getting a handle on my life again, I received a call from the sheriff of Stevenson County himself. Amidst my treatment and therapy, seven long years had already come and gone. With my folks passed on, I was Ellie's only surviving next of kin. As she still hasn't been found, he was calling to inform me that she was to be declared legally dead. Lawyers began calling thereafter. I alone stood to inherit her estate, including the house and the assets from Uncle Vern's now defeclure. funct business. They keep calling, and I keep postponing the meetings to go over the execution of the will. I know the moment I finally show up, all of this becomes real again. I'm afraid I'll have to go back to her house, even if only to sell the property. I can't do that. I can't go back. What if it's still waiting for me in those woods? I was 14 at the time. I was visiting my dad.

I would go back and forth from my parents. My dad stays on a farm. We have a pretty average, size farm with a barn, shed, a bunch of farming equipment in silos. Now we are literally in the middle of nowhere, like I mean in the middle of nowhere. The closest town to our house was around 60 miles. Believe it or not, we actually had two neighbors a couple miles down. I'm going to give you the way of the land. We have a long driveway connecting to the main road. When you pull in it takes around 30 seconds to go to the house driving at a comfortable 20 miles per hour. Once you pass the gate we have, immediate left we have the shed that holds our shop. Then going back to the gate if you look straight ahead from it, that is our barn,

and a bunch of garages for our farming equipment. Then lastly, we have four silos going across that. Then to your immediate right when you enter the gates as our house. Our house is actually not that big compared to other farm houses. It's a two-story house, but it's quite small. If you take a right from the gate, you will meet a screen door. If you enter that screen door, you will immediately be hit with a big table. If you look to your right from where you entered, that's the living room,

and then inside that living room in the back is a spare room, where I slept. If you take a left instead of taking a right, you will meet a section where there's a bunch of rooms. If you stand in the middle of that section, to your left will be the kitchen, and then to your right there's a bathroom, a computer room, and my dad's room. There is one door that leads up to the second floor, but it's basically just an, attic because we barely go up there as it's freezing cold. Once you enter the kitchen if you take a right in the corner, we have the basement and then the entrance way where you enter from the front door. But anyways, let's get with the story. So like I said, it's just me and my dad at that house.

It was any other average day, I woke up from the room and went to go eat breakfast. My dad, a hardworking man, woke up extremely early. He would never wake me up, but I liked eating breakfast with him. But that being said, as I woke up and went into the living room, I couldn't help but feel I was being watched. I know really ironic, but have you ever had that feeling where you feel really uneasy, or nervous? But usually when that happens, you just brush it off, and that's exactly what I did. I walked to the kitchen and grab some bacon and eggs, and ate and talked with my dad. Me and him laughed, but when we were done. He went outside to go work on his truck, and I stayed inside and watched TV for a bit.

Now even with me being 14 years old, I was pretty strong mentally. Honestly, I rarely got scared, but what happened next was something that I could have never prepared for. So I was sitting in my living room. When out of the blue I heard this absolutely massive bang right above me. I about soiled my pants, I jumped so bad I actually fell out of my chair and spilled all of my water. It sounded like somebody just got dropped off of a skyscraper. I looked up almost immediately thinking there would have been a hole in the ceiling, but there was nothing. At that point I knew there was absolutely no way something would have fallen

up there as there is nothing in that room. Remember how I told you we never went up there. Well, the only thing in that second floor was right next to the stairway. When you entered, it had nothing else. So essentially, either something was up there or the roof just fell on top of itself. And that house was completely silent after that. I muted the TV and sat in this frozen state wondering if I should even walk for a couple minutes. Luckily, I see my dad walking back into the house, but it wasn't over. As I didn't want to go investigate it, I just thought I should lock the door. But as I was walking over, I eerily heard some type of crying. It was literally right next to that door. Me being a 14-year-old, my head was rushing through horror movies. I locked the door in and

sprinted the hell out of that house. My dad was now halfway walking up. I immediately ran to him telling him what was going on. Now my dad was a jokester and usually messing around with me when I did something like this, but I'm just assuming he probably saw the fear in my face and went in there. Now this time we didn't go through the screen door and instead went through the front door. He opened the door and immediately took a left. For reference, when you open the front door and take a left, we have a hidden gun in case of an intruder. He grabbed his Glock 19, and we walked into the kitchen. I was a little behind because I was scared to walk in there, but then I realized something. The basement door sure as hell was not open, as I went to go check to make sure it was

shut, because the heat from the basement was immense. It's from our furnace. I didn't think much of it, though, maybe thinking my dad opened the door. My dad and I both went to his room right next to the door I locked, and this is where I connected two and two together. The door was literally swung wide open, and the lock was busted off. By the way, those locks were designed to hold shed doors shut in case of a storm. As a matter of fact, the door was literally leaning on the wall as the hinges were blown off. My dad just looked at me, and my entire life I've never seen him look so worried. My dad was a former police officer for one year, so he had some training. He taught me how to shoot a gun and I've hunted my whole life. So he handed me a gun also. This might sound like something

out of call of duty, but I actually cleared out the living room in my room. I went back to him whispering to him that the rooms were clear. Now at that point he was at the basement door. As I entered the kitchen, I saw him sitting in fear. I asked him what was wrong into my horror. He heard somebody whispering and crying down there. My dad took a quick look at me and said, we're going down there, and I agreed. Each step was horrifying enough. Let me tell you how the basement is set up. Once you reach the bottom step which is about ten steps, to your right we have a workout place. And then to your left you have the washing machine and an additional bathroom with a shower. Now in the left corner we have a boxed out room.

It's like one of those creepy trap doors you would see in movies. We've only been in there once. It's maybe eight feet tall and 15 feet wide. So as we reached halfway, we could hear some blatant shuffling. We checked the right and the left place, but didn't see anything. I already knew that whatever or whoever was in this house was in that place. My dad reluctantly posted up by it and signaled me to go to the other end. The basement is almost pitch black because we didn't turn any lights on.

The only light source was illumination from the sunrise, which wasn't enough. As my dad entered, I entered behind him reluctantly. We were maybe two steps into the room when my dad tried looking for the light switch. Then we heard this absolutely horrifying screech come from the corner. My dad pushed me and told me to go to one end while he went to the other end. We heard this screeching and crying away from the corner, and it got progressively closer and closer as time went on. To my dismay, I could see it.

That thing was tall. Its head had to lean under because it was hitting the ceiling. We're talking eight feet tall. What made it even worse was this thing was really strong. It straight up looked like a bodybuilder. Now since it was pitch black, I could only see it because of the illumination, not being able to see my dad. It walked out and started walking up the stairway when my dad appeared.

We stepped out and my dad was ready to yell. It completely booked it out of the basement. I heard a loud slam and then some more yelling. My dad and I walked up the stairway very reluctantly. Now on the fifth step before we entered the kitchen, my dad stopped again. He cursed under his breath. We went to the side of the stairway and saw that the door was blown 30 to 40 feet away from where it was supposed to be.

The whole doorway was completely ripped off, but oddly enough, it was still standing in the doorway. My dad was about ready to shoot the thing, when it sprinted away. My dad ran right up the stairway and tried chasing it. I was quickly following behind him when we saw it disappear in the cornfield. We immediately contacted the police, and it took them 45 minutes to get out here. They scanned and surveyed the area for hours, and found absolutely nothing. We even checked the security cameras, but oddly enough it wasn't. wasn't working at that time.

It's been a while since that happened, and I haven't seen that thing in a while. If anyone can tell me what that thing is, I would love to know. I have a hard time sleeping now. I just hope we never encounter that thing again. USAA knows dynamic duos can save the day, like superheroes and sidekicks or auto and home insurance. With USAA, you can bundle your auto and home and save up to 10%. Tap the banner to learn more and get a quote at usa.com slash bundle. Restrictions apply.

Choice Hotels get you more of what you value. Comfort in, it's calling your name. Save on the stay. Oh, and free waffles are yours to claim. Book direct at storeshotels.com. I've always tried to rationally think through how we got here. What happened to lead us down this path? Why did life turn out like this?

When I do, my mind always comes back to that summer's day in Scotland. Everything stems from that like a collapsed vein, a happier time cut off from us in the past, and nowhere else to go but this tainted present. Back in 1977, my wife, Jenna, and I saw something neither of us could comprehend. It changed us forever. We were staying in a small Scottish village called Aberfoyle for a week at the time.

It was a quaint place surrounded by pleasant rolling hills, woodland, and locks. From our hotel, we could explore the lush Scottish scenery, something Jenna had wanted to do since she was a kid. Her mother was Scottish, and although she had passed away when my wife was very young, Jenna always felt a deep connection to the country. It was a spiritual home of sorts. She was fascinated by it, the vast spaces of green and rock, clear blue waters, snow, rain, wind, and sun piercing through it, if you were lucky,

it was the natural world in its element. Most of all, Jenna cherished the few memories she had of her mother telling stories about Scotland. It was a mystical place for her and her family, and that Poltesee at first hand only grew over the years. I had spent my childhood in a small town in the Midwest. I'd had my fill of nature and preferred the streets of Boston as an adult, but when my wife turned 30, I knew that a trip across the Atlantic would make the perfect present. When I told her where we were going, she was so happy. Iberfoil Village was barely more than a main street at the time, with our hotel. Well, I say hotel, but it was more of a bed in breakfast, sitting on one of the

rare, empty back streets. At night the place shut down except for a solitary pub, leaving us to breathe in the relative silence and darkness of the surrounding hills and forests. The first night there we had dinner at a small restaurant. That night brought more than its fair share of surprises. The first was when I surprised Jenna with a silver bracelet engraved with a suitably soppy message on the underside. But that wasn't where the unexpected ceased. Jenna then dropped the biggest surprise of all. She was pregnant with our first child.

We had been trying for over a year, and we were beginning to worry that something was wrong, and so to hear that she was pregnant was overwhelming. We celebrated Jenna on the orange juice, me on the scotch. The next day, my head was pounding, and I asked that we stay closer to the hotel, rather than have our planned trip to Glasgow City. Jenna was a little tired, but by lunchtime, my headache had lifted a little and I suggested a walk through the countryside as a compromise.

The night before, one of the locals had told me about a scenic walk through Queen Elizabeth Forest. It sounded perfect and just a short drive away. If I had to hurl, at least I wouldn't be doing it in front of other people. Jenna was excited to get out and about, and so we drove for about 20 minutes from Aberfoyle, and parked in a small makeshift parking lot inside the fore. This was the place the trails started and they could only be explored on foot. When we got out, the scent of pines was sweet in the air and the fresh smell made me feel much better. Although I've been told the location is now more popular, on that day we saw no other cars on the road into the forest, and the parking lot itself was empty.

The sun was high in the sky, and as we headed on foot towards what was supposed to be a relaxing forest walk, I remember smiling at Jenna. She was so beautiful. A wooden information board showed us the route we were to take. Given her condition, I didn't want Jenna to overexert herself, so we took the path marked in green, which meant it should have been the easiest trail. And it was, for a while. The path moved through pockets of pine trees and had clearly been used many times before.

It was picturesque, and with each step, I started to understand why Jenna had been so happy to visit the place. There's undoubtedly something necessary about getting away from the world, to lose yourself in nature. It's like we still have an ancient part of ourselves that gets nourished by the deep greenery. As we strolled along the dirt path, we started talking about what we would call the baby

if it were a boy or a girl. It was then that we realized we were not alone. In front of us in the distance, a young boy walked out from the tree line and stood on the path ahead about 50 yards away, just staring at us. He looked to be about eight or nine years old. Being in an isolated area,

it would have been unnerving to begin with. nerving to begin with. The sun reflected off of his skin and his pale color was stark against the green of the forest. What do you do in a situation like that? This was in the 1970s and, although there were always whispers of terrible things happening behind closed doors, it was long before the public truly accepted that many children were being mistreated. Still, the unsettling sight was soon replaced with concern for the child. Jenna picked up the pace and shouted hello, but something immediately made me grab her hand and stop her from running up to the boy. I asked Jenna to stay put, not just for herself but for our unborn child's sake.

The last thing I wanted was for a stressful situation to affect the pregnancy. Reluctantly, she stayed where she was, and I stepped forward towards the boy. As I drew closer, I realized just how pale and emaciated he was, as though he had been kept somewhere, malnourished, and away from sunlight for some time. Are you okay? I asked. Where are your parents? He just looked at me, the skin beneath his eyes darker than the surrounding skin. Cautiously, I moved closer with my arms open so as not to scare him. Let us help you. Maybe we could take you to the police or help you find your parents. The closer I got, the more I felt the uncertainty of the situation. There was something very

wrong with the boy. I expected him to move back or show some sort of fear, but he didn't. In fact, I was sure that a subtle grin momentarily flickered across his face before returning to the same, somber expression as before. By this time, I was standing straight in front of him. I asked him, what's your name? Again, he said nothing, but now he was looking intently into my eyes, and that gaze carried with it nothing but menace. The boy then reached out his right hand.

I turned to look back at Jenna down the path to ask her what I should do. As I turned, I heard a rustling sound, and when I looked back towards the same, the boy, he was no longer there. I followed the rustling to the side of the path. The ground dipped down into a slight incline. There, the trees and bushes created thick clumps of leaves and branches. It looked difficult to traverse, and I thought that the boy must have been scraped and cut to pieces running about in there. It was so dimmed between the trees, a tangled green mess. Waiting for a moment, I listened. There was nothing other than the occasional creek of a branch swaying in the gentle breeze. Above, the sun shined down directly onto the path, but just a few

steps forward, and I would have been engulfed by the dark of the forest. The difference in light was stark in my mind, and although I wanted to help the kid, everything about the situation left me in a wary state of mind. Seeing no sign of the boy, I walked back to Jenna. She asked where he was. I said I didn't know and told her that he disappeared into the forest when my back was turned. Jenna looked pale and she gave me a look I knew only too well. I'd seen it a few times over the previous few years. Something was on her mind and she just had to get it out. Jenna looked me straight in the eyes and said,

I never saw the boy leave the path. She insisted that it was as if he had just vanished. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. I was caught in a difficult situation. This was before the common cell phone. One of us needed to alert the authorities that there was a young boy stranded in the woods, running around. Considering how deep and thick the section of forest around us was, he could easily

have fallen and hit his head on a rock or, later, passed of hypothermia when the night came. There was only one thing we could do. One of us would have to stay put in case the kid needed help, while the other would walk back to the car, drive into Aberfoyle, and raise the alarm. There was no question that I would stay in the forest, but I didn't feel right about letting Janet go back to the car by herself. Even if she hadn't been pregnant, I wouldn't have liked it. But Jenna was always stronger-willed than me, and although I would try to pull the usual strong husband routine common at the time, she was nearly always immune to it.

Jenna insisted that she would head back down the path, and that I should try and find the kid, but not stray too far. She would be back as soon as possible with help. I told her to haunt the horn when she was leaving the parking lot, that way I'd know she'd got back to the car okay. I got a smile and a roll of the eyes in return, but she promised to do it if it made me feel better. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and walked back the way we had went. I watched her until she disappeared from view.

Although I'd spent the last ten years living in Boston, I grew up in the Midwest, so hikes through the woods were not alien to me, but this was different. There was something off about that long stretch of path. It was flanked by pine trees so close together that the forest was as dark as twilight once you stepped off. the path and into it and that was something I had no intention of doing. The tree line was like an impenetrable wall to me. Nonetheless, I stared intently at it in search of the smallest sign of life. I was sure that since I hadn't heard anyone moving around in there, the boy must still have been near. He would have made too much noise moving through the uneven and cluttered terrain.

There was a sense of loneliness about that place. No, not loneliness, but isolation. like it was an arm cut from the body of the world. Such environments infect the mind with paranoia, and as I was entertaining the stark atmosphere of the place, I kept my eyes on the side of the path from where the boy had first appeared. My imagination took over. I began to think about the kid, lost in the woods.

I thought about how he'd gotten into such a situation, and those thoughts were too dark to dwell on. I turned my mind to a lighter explanation. Maybe there was a lock nearby, and he was swimming there with his friends. I thought. They pranked him and then he'd followed the path trying to get back to town. Yes, that made sense. It must have been something like that. But why did he not speak to me? And what of his skin? It was unusually pale and that flicker of a smile on his face. It caused me doubt just to think about it. Continuing my vigil, I wondered why Jenna hadn't honk the car horn

yet as she left the parking lot. I was sure she should have made it back there by then. That's when I thought I saw movement. I didn't know if she had. it was a deer or the missing boy himself. Slowly, I stepped forward to the edge of the path and peered in. The quiet of the place took over and I stared steadily for any hint of movement. I was so focused that I had no time to react to the real danger. Something walked out of the woods from behind me at speed. I barely had a moment to turn, and when I did, something large and white put its hands on me. It knocked me from the path, and as I fell down the incline into the trees and bushes in front, a searing pain cut across my vision.

A branch of pine needles scratched across my left eyeball, leaving me unable to see out of it. Instinct kicked in and I fled deeper between the trees, the branches cracking and prodding around me as I did so. Red tears fell from my injured left eye, and as I looked back momentarily with my right, I saw, standing on the sunlit path, two people. A man and a woman.

Both were tall, and their skin was as white as the boys I had seen, gleaming in the summer sun. Both figures stepped forward towards where I was, and I quickly attempted to hide within the cutting embrace of a large pine tree, but it was clear that they could see me somehow. It was at that moment that I heard the distant sound of a car horn. A sense of relief cut through my adrenaline. I could at least be happy that Jenna had made it back to the car without incident, hopefully out of the forest and away from my attackers. A man and woman stared at me through the trees, their gaze dark and malevolent, angry even. When he and the woman moved towards where I stood, I panicked and picked up a moss-covered rock on the ground at my feet.

It was the only way to protect myself. I watched, anticipating their movements, waiting for them to attack. The woman spoke to the man, and her words were unlike any I had heard before. It wasn't just the language that confused me, but I'm uncertain how any human could make such a sound. Beneath the words, there was an unusual noise. Each word lay on top of a breath, like a storm swelling and pushing through a cold. constricted space. The man answered with a lower, yet equally airy voice. There we were, waiting. I might not have understood the language, but I knew they meant to harm me, and for the first

time the thought that I might never leave that forest alive rose up in my mind. Just as the man finally lurched towards where I was, my heart began to race. If the sound of Jenna striking our car horn had made me feel more at ease, the second time it sounded put me on edge. When the horn sounded for a third, and then a final fourth time I knew something terrible had happened. Jenna needed help. There was no time for dialogue. These people, whoever they were, had undoubtedly hurt that boy we had encountered,

and now they were hell-bent on hurting me and my wife, who knew how many of them there were. I had to get back to Jenna to make sure she was okay. The man continued moving forward, the pine branches breaking against his skin. When he reached me, I leapt forward and swung the rock in my hand with all of my might. When it contacted his head, I was certain I had got him. Something cracked inside his head. I felt it. Prymson sprayed across me, and he staggered back onto the trail. I will never forget the piercing. Inhuman screamed the woman let out when she leaned over to help her companion.

The man's pale white face had come apart from the attack. The woman stood up to run at me, and shocked at what I had done, I ran back down the path. Looking back with my one good eye, I could see that she was still with the man's crumpled body, and so I focused purely on reaching Jenna. When I got to the parking lot, I wasn't sure what I saw at first. The car door was open, and Jenna was lying in the driver's seat. A small, pale white figure was near her, doing something. As I ran to the car, the figure, who I could now see was the boy we had first encountered, let out a screech, and held a red mess in his hands.

I was too late. The boy scampered off towards the surrounding forest, but as I was, As he reached the tall grass just before the tree line, he stopped. Crouching down, he turned and stared at me. His white skin bleached red. I didn't care if I was going to die. I took a deep breath and turned to look at what he had done to my wife. She was sitting in the driver's seat.

Her eyes glazed, but I didn't understand. She was looking at me in a daze, smiling. There was no blood, no visible wound that I could see. I dreamt about our child, she said. Then she lost consciousness. I pulled her, still breathing, out of the driver's seat, and put her gently in the back. She was talking to herself, mumbling something, as though she were in a deep, confusing dream. My only thought was to get her to a hospital.

Climbing into the car, I slammed the doors shut. All the while the boy covered in crimson, nestling something in his hands, stared at me from the tall grass. But he was no longer alone. A man and woman I had encountered on the path were with him, and the man, though he bore a scar down the side of his cheek, looked as though his entire face had been sewed back on. They watched silently as I drove out of the parking lot, and I was left with the uneasy feeling that they allowed me to leave. Jenna recovered in a local hospital, and to my complete surprise and joy, our baby was still alive and healthy inside of its mother. We spoke with the police. Of course, no one believed us, and why would they?

There wasn't a scratch on Jenna, and bizarrely, even the crimson which had sprayed across me during my fight on the forest path had vanished like disappearing ink. When I asked Jenna about what happened at the parking lot, she said all she remembered was a flash of white on the windscreen, as if something had jumped up on the hood of the car. Then nothing, but she did say she dreamed about a crying baby. Months later, when we were back in Boston, Jenna gave birth to our son. He was beautiful. We were happy for a few days. To our horror, just as short while after getting him home, his skin began to change color, like food going bad because of the air. His skin darkened as he cried for his life. I called 911, but it was too late. He stopped breathing in Jenna's arms. We were overcome with grief

I can't describe, looking down at our beautiful boy, his skin now the color of mold, his eyes frozen open looking up at us. We heard the paramedics come into our home downstairs, but before they reached us, the miraculous happened. Suddenly, our son began breathing again. His eyes rolled around, and then his skin began to change color back to its original healthy tone. But the change did not stop, it grew paler and paler, until there was no doubt that we were staring at one of the children of the forest. Before our very eyes, and I will swear this until my dying breath, our son then began to fade away, just as the crimson had evaporated on my clothes.

As the last outline of him vanished, he led out the laugh of a child far older than his few days. That laugh moved off into the air and out through the nearest window, fading to nothing. If it wasn't for the paramedics, who saw the last moment themselves, the police would have thought we disposed of our own child. We did not. He was never our child to begin with. He was of the forest, and I'm certain that's where he now lives, lost in a sea of green. And what of our own unborn child? Was he taken from Jenna's body at the forest? Is it possible he lives there too? That possibility haunts me, as do these memories I've finally put into words,

Jenna and I remain married, though we swore after that day never to have another child. Perhaps the effects of what we encountered in that forest still linger in her body. Who knows what we would have brought into this world? I got into cave exploring with my friends a few months ago. It was a blast until last weekend. I now wish I had never gotten into it at all. At first, we found some local easily findable ones that provided just enough of a challenge to look forward to going again. None of the ones that we visited at first seemed like there was any cause for concern, or even held a whiff of danger.

The first cave we went to is a relatively popular one, just about 30 minutes from our town. We took about four hours to complete the unguided tour of the cave system. All the chambers were well above eight feet in clearance, and nearly impossible to get lost in. There is also a ranger station nearby that checks the caves and most of the chambers at the end of the day, so that nobody could get left behind the closed and locked gate. It was a blast. We had so much fun we all agreed to do it again the next weekend, and every weekend that we all could go together,

barring any family or work commitments. It continued like this over the next couple of months. We went further and further away from home, once even spending the night camping, so we could make a weekend of it during the early summer. That cave was awesome, and while it was a bit on the more advanced side of things, we did all the exploring we wanted to with no injuries whatsoever,

if you don't count scrapes and minor cuts and bruises. Last week I was doing some research on bigger, more complex cave systems in the Northeast and came across a very helpful website plotting all the best ones to visit. I found that the website did, in fact, have a rating system that should have been followed. I didn't follow it. I'm single. The two buddies I usually go caving with are both married with like five kids between them. I wanted to head out to one system that was a few hours away from our town, but neither one of them could make it that weekend.

I told them that I would go up, check it out, and report back to them if it was worth taking a closer look. The weather was supposed to be spectacular and warm, perfect to camp out overnight. They both told me that it wasn't a good idea to go alone. I told them not to worry, I wasn't going to do anything stupid. I was barely even going to go in any of them, just poke my head in, take a look around. Jot some notes down, mark some coordinates for easier retracing of steps. Easy stuff. I drove up before sunrise on the weekend morning, getting to the area indicated on the map.

Park my jeep and began setting up a nice comfortable campsite. I finished around 10.30 in the morning. I didn't think that anyone would mess with my stuff while I was out exploring. I strapped my pack on. With my map in hand, I set off for the base of the small, but nevertheless impressive mountain range that I was currently at the base. of. I was walking down the trail for just over an hour, heading for the indicated entrance to one of the systems I wanted to check out. I noticed something at the base of a large rock that

looks like it had fallen down from somewhere up higher a millennia ago. It looked out of place to me, like it was deliberately placed at the foot of that giant rock. I walked over to the spot and began probing around with the handle of my climbing axe, stabbing the sharp spike into the center of the off-color patch of whatever it was. Thunk. What the head was? What the head was? I said out loud. I got down on my haunches and began, in earnest, to probe and lift the cover revealing an entrance descending down into nearly total darkness. Now you might be telling yourself as you listen to this, you deserve whatever you get for going down there. And you may be right, but nobody deserves what I saw down there.

I stood above the hole, hand on my backpack straps, staring down into the abyss. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, none of them were helpful in the slightest. The rational side said rather loudly, Do not go down there. The adventurous side said almost in a whisper, You only live once. I shrugged off my pack, did a quick but thorough inventory of its contents.

Satisfied, I tied a 50-foot length of climbing rope to the top, carrying the handle of it and slowly lowered it down into the darkness. I tied the rope with a sturdy clove hitch around a tree, cracked a chem light, and dropped it into the hole. It fell for about a second, bouncing off the stone, floor and skittering off into the darkness barely illuminating my swaying backpack in the air. I got on my belly pulling out my trusty 1,000-lum flashlight, pointing it into the darkness, and blasting everything in bright light. The chamber below me seemed like it was about 35 feet

below as my pack was barely swaying just above the floor. I could see that the chem light I dropped had bounced into what looked like a natural archway and came to a rest against the wall. I could see it glowing brightly from my current vantage point. Screw it. I said to myself, grabbing the rope and began lowering myself down. Once safely on the floor of the chamber, I unzipped my main compartment and pulled out my helmet equipped with a pencil 500-lumin headlamp. This thing had cost nearly a hundred bucks, but it could use both a rechargeable battery,

of which I had four fully charged spares tucked away in my left pocket of my adventure vest, but it also took two batteries, 24 of which I had stored in my pack. I also kept four of them in each front pocket, enough of juice to last for nearly three days of continuous running. I also kept a 1,000-lumin flashlight clipped to my vest, one that had plenty of battery to keep that thing on for hours at a time. I put my pack back on, snowed it tightly down, and began to creep around the chamber looking for any signs of animal life.

I found none and began to sketch a quick little map as I went along in my field notebook, complete with some rough dimensions of the chamber. I cracked another chem light placing it directly at the foot of my rope, and knowing these things last for a few hours before losing their light completely, I figured that would be a good enough signal beacon to guide me back to my rope just in case. I had about two dozen chem lights in my side pocket of my pack, easily accessible without having to remove the pack at all. I cracked one about every 50 or so feet, making sure that the last one could be seen before placing a new one on the floor, a trail of light breakcrumbs, if you will. I came into a large, spacious cavern.

Looking around with 500 lumens, it lit up the chamber quite well, just some dancing shadows lurking in the far reaches of the light's capabilities. I could hear water dripping or running off to my left, and a nice breeze was coming in from behind me just to my right side. That's when I heard a sound that chilled me to the core. The sound came from what it seemed like directly ahead of me. I froze in place barely breathing, straining my ears to hear. In chambers like the one I currently found myself in, the sounds bounce around like a super ball. Pinpointing a sound down here is nearly impossible. The sound sounded animal-like, but not quite. I keep a fixed blade knife clip to my belt in the scout carry position. I reached for it and pulled out the well-honed blade from its sheath,

gloved hand gripping the comfortable handle tightly. My head was on a swivel looking about in a near-dizzing display of shadows and light. I had to see the origin of that sound. Maybe it was a wounded animal that I would be able to help. I crept forward, nearly silent as a cat. I could begin to see another entrance into another tunnel pass. I slowly mad my way to the entrance of the passageway. I had cracked two more chemlights walking across the nearly 50 feet expanse of the chamber. I placed one at the entrance to the hallway. Pulling out my flashlight, I turned it onto the max brightness and moved on. The hallway wasn't as long as I had anticipated, maybe 25 feet or so. It spilled out into a much smaller chamber with several offshoot hallways, leading to God only knows where. What I saw in the center of that chamber

looked to be right out of a horror movie. Piles of bones, antlers, scraps of hide, and rotten flesh. I stood rooted to the stone floor, unable to move. I looked around in horror at the several hallways, realizing that they weren't passages, but more like smaller living chambers. You could see to the rear of each of them with my powerful beam of light. That is when I heard that sound again, this time much closer. It came from the far left sub-chamber, I'm sure if it.

My head snapped to the direction of that horrific sound, and I could see four glowing yellow eyes blinking back at me. Less intense light from my helmet was able to make out a rough shape of whatever stood about 20 or so feet directly in front of me. It was small about four feet in height and oddly shaped. It stood uprightish, not fully standing, but close enough. It didn't appear to have any fur. It was white like it has never been in the sun, white.

I snapped my more powerful light to the pair. I wish I hadn't. I got a good look at them this time. I nearly dropped my light from sheer revulsion. What I saw can't be explained. They were humanoid but clearly not human. They both had huge oval eyes that squinted and almost closed as my powerful beam focused on them. The bigger of the two, I can only assume, was the male, or whatever, screeched that awful sound and clawed at the air in front of its eyes.

A smaller one retreated back into the blackness of its chamber, whimpering as it did. At that point, I heard another sound coming from the right of me snapping my head in that direction. I saw three more of them hobble into the larger chamber. One big one, one, one smaller one, and a very small but equally terrifying child-sized one. This little one made a sound that could break glass when my 1,000 lumen light hit its more sensitive eyes. I don't know what these things were, maybe an offshoot of evolution, a freak of nature. I have no idea.

I began to back out of that smaller chamber forgetting about the pile of bones that was behind me. I tripped and stumbled over some of the loose bones. And that is when I saw it. A skull with a gold tooth in lay. No, I began yelling. Daining my solid footing again. I swept the light around, seeing only three of the five previously seen creatures. I had no idea where they had gone in the few seconds that my light wasn't trained on them.

I turned and ran towards the big chamber, hearing a shriek behind me as I gained speed. I blasted out of that hallway, only to find that all of the chem lights that I had placed along my short trail had been piled up in the center. of the bigger chamber. They were not just piled up, but they were placed in a way that could only show some kind of intelligence. Since there was only one way to go, I ran for it. I could hear slapping of flesh on the stone floor, behind me. I'm about six foot two and have a pretty good build. I take rather long strides while walking and much bigger ones while running. Those tiny creatures couldn't keep up with my much faster legs. I ran toward the small glimpse of light that I could see. It was about 75 feet in front of the small.

front of me, coming from the entrance from which I went in. Shrieking continued behind me, as well as slapping feet on stone. I sprinted towards the light and I entered the first chamber. The big male was waiting for me at the entrance, its back turned to the light. I dropped my shoulder and ran full force into its torso, leveling it in one savage blow, barely even slowing down. It got one good swipe in on me, furrowing my right forearm, most likely deep enough to require stitches. The body of the big male slammed into the stone wall, and you could hear an audible sound as its head connected with stone. I leapt up grabbing the rope with both hands, wrapping my feet around the rope and quickly as possible, climbed for my life. The other male entered the chamber as I was about

15 feet off the stone floor. It slashed at the rope with razor-like claws. I got high enough to grab the side of the rock and heave myself up into the bright sunny day. I rolled over to my side and quickly began pulling up my now shredded rope. I lay there for a few minutes hearing the angered screams and shrieks coming from below. I got back to my Jeep about 45 minutes later, nearly spent after running the entire way. I got in my Jeep after I quickly packed up my campsite. I called my buddies and told them what happened. Of course, they didn't believe me at first until I showed them the pictures of the wound that the big one gave me. Three fingers of claws raked across my forearm. I drove to the nearest hospital to get patched up, 75 stitches and all to

close the wounds. They took some DNA evidence from the wound as well. I spoke with the local sheriff's office about the incident. They took a statement and promised to follow up. It's been two months. I haven't heard anything from law enforcement, but I did hear back from the hospital earlier this morning. The DNA found in my wound has no known species associated with it. The closest relative would be a technology is your friend. That was the phrase I'd had almost ceremoniously drilled into my head from a rather young age. As someone who was born in the early 90s, I was alive to witness the world take the jump into the digital age following the turn of the millennium. I grew up watching the old technology of the 20th century, everything from analog television to copper phone lines get phased out and replaced,

all the while hearing that the new versions were better, more efficient, and safer. and for a while I actually believed it. I wasn't what you would call a stickler for old tech. I moved with the times, adopting new technology as it came along, everything from broadband internet to smartphones, to smart TVs and cars with self-driving capabilities. I was excited about it all as well. Hearing about a new leap in progress always excited me greatly, as it meant a step closer to the future I'd seen in cartoons as a kid, such as the Jetsons.

That all changed last year. It started small enough. I'd be standing or sitting somewhere, scrolling through social media on my phone, when it would glitch up and freeze on me. I hadn't done anything wrong, and I had good antivirus software installed on it, so the fact that a less than two-year-old phone was going on the fritz annoyed me to no end. Friggin' piece of crap. I hissed through gritted teeth as I sat at my desk during a particularly slow shift at work as my phone once again froze, then went black as it shut itself off, and rebooted.

My co-worker who sat in the cubicle across from me looked over with mild interest. Everything all right, Jared. She asked, I shook my head. This stupid thing did it again to me. I exclaimed, quietly, so my boss wouldn't hear I wasn't working. Even on slow shifts, he insisted we keep going to, as he put it, prevent paying you to just sit on your lazy butts like you're back in school. She shrugged.

Have you taken it to a repair shop to try and have the problem diagnosed? I sighed and rolled my eyes slightly. You know I have, Vivian. Three times, and each one said that my phone was running perfectly. I said, I saw her scrunch up her face and raise a hand to play with her blonde hair. Well, why not just toss it and get a new one? She asked. I scoffed.

Vivian, I've worked here for four years. You ought to know by now I'm not into that whole disposable. Throw something away as soon as it breaks or goes wonky culture. She shrugged again. suit yourself, she said, but it would be a hell of a lot easier for you to just get a new one. I shook my head and turned back to my computer, placing the now-rebooted phone screen down on the desk. I may have been someone who moved with the times in terms of tech, but I didn't like wasting money just to get rid of something after less than two or three years.

I already got annoyed when people just bought or leased a car for a year, which ran perfectly fine, before hawking it and getting a single model year newer iteration 12 months later. When I got home that night, I hooked my phone up to my laptop, running my own diagnostic software on it. Just like with the repair men, it reported that the phone was in tip-top shape, with no viruses or malware detected. Maybe Vivian is right, I thought as I climbed into bed. Maybe, just this once, I should take the owl and get a new phone. As I stared at my ceiling fan lazily spinning the abnormally warm spring air around, my room, I heard my phone let out a soft ding, indicating that I'd received a text message.

Rolling over, I picked it up off the table next to the bed and clicked the screen on. Where the hell is texting me this late? As the screen flashed to life, causing me to wince and close my eyes from the glare, it let out another little ding. I opened my eyes and let them slowly adjust to the light. As soon as the screen came into focus, I saw that I did indeed have two texts waiting for me. But I felt nothing but puzzlement wash over me like a wave. For one, there was no phone number shown above the message notifications themselves. It didn't even say it was an unknown number. The area was simply blank, something I'd never seen before. Stranger still was the fact that both text messages comprised of nothing more than single letters. The first was

the letter W and the second was E. I wondered. I waited to see if any more messages would come in, the phone screen eventually flicking to block from inactivity. I sighed and placed it back on the nightstand, then rolled over onto my side. Brate, now it's messing up so badly it's glitching single character text messages. I let out a long sigh, making a mental note to take the phone back to the repair guy at my local mall next week, when he got back from vacation. If anyone would know what was causing that, it would be him. I thought one final time about the glitch, then let out a soft, sleepy laugh in the dark,

room. We, I muttered as I finally drifted off into a restful sleep. The next day went by normally until lunchtime. I was sitting in my building's cafeteria, eating a cold turkey and cheese sandwich with Vivian, and my other office buddy, Davin, when my phone went off three times in a row this time. I picked it up, seeing that I'd received three text messages, all with the same send time of 1248. Again, they were only single letters. This time A, R, and E. Oh, what the flip? I groaned, dropping it back onto the table. What's up?

Davin asked through a large mouthful of potato salad. Vivian shot a glance at my phone. Again, she asked. I shook my head. No, it started doing something completely new last night. Single letter text messages from nobody. Two last night and three now. Davin looked over at the phone with mock fright,

swallowing his food. Spooky, it's the ghost and the machine. He let out in a poor imitation. of a creepy voice, raising his arms as though he were a stereotypical ghost with a sheet over his head. Very funny, jerk. I muttered, letting half of my mouth curl up in a smile at his stupid joke as I reached for my bottle of water. Hey, at least I don't have a big butt. He quipped back, and this time, the entire table laughed. Seriously, though, it continued. It's probably like Vivian said, just a defective phone. Just junk it and get a new one. I slowly nodded my head.

I've been beginning to lean towards it, but, I don't know, something just doesn't sit right with me. I motioned towards it. I've had that thing for a year in like seven months, and it's never done this to me before. Both my coworkers shrugged. That happened sometimes, Vivian offered. I couldn't help but nod. She was much more versed on technology than I was. Out of sheer curiosity, did the letter spell anything out?

She asked, it was my turn to shrug. Well, the first two letters were W and E. These were A, R, and E. So, I guess it spelled out, we are. The two of them shared a look. What? I asked. They didn't say anything, still looking at each other. What?

I demanded a little harder, feeling a small sense of worry come over me. Well, Vivian began. Well, what? I exclaimed. All at once, both of them shot each other grins and began singing in unison. We are, who we are. As they finished, I realized what they'd done as they fell into peals of laughter. Really, I said, letting out a scoff.

You start singing that crappy, annoying pop song from a few years ago. They looked at me and both nodded. Then began laughing again. I shook my head and smirked at the stupidity of it all, slipping my phone into my pocket and standing up from the table to dump my trash into the bin. Those two could find a way to joke about the beheading of Queen Anne. I felt my phone begin to buzz continuously in my pocket but chose to ignore it. I'd see whatever dumb letters were on it when I got home in a few hours.

For the moment, I put the whole thing out of my mind and walked back to the elevator to my cubicle. That evening, as I was driving home, I decided, instead of cooking something myself, to stop by someplace and grab something quick to eat. I felt massively tired from the workload that had been heaped on my shoulders and had no energy to make anything. I settled on the first place I came across, which happened to be a subway. As I stood in line watching the teenager

behind the counter make my sandwich, I decided to pass the time by quickly looking at the dumb messages I'd gotten earlier. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I clicked the screen on. Sir, would you like it toasted? The kid asked me, momentarily distracting me.

I looked up quickly. Yeah, please. I said, then looked down at my phone again. There had been a... messages in a row this time, too many to see on the lock screen. I flicked my thumb across the screen and tapped on the message icon, bringing up my texting app. Just like before, they'd all come from no number. I shook my head, tapping on the message to open it up, and then I froze. It felt like my feet had become rooted to the well-clean tile floor beneath me. The room suddenly felt as

though it were far too warm, and I felt my head begin to spin like I would faint. My heart began to pound in my chest as I read and re-read the eight messages. It spelled watching. What the actual hell? I felt my breath hitched in my throat as I scrolled back up to the previous messages, then slowly began to scroll down. As I did, the message that each individual letter spelled out sent to shiver up my spine. We are watching. I was suddenly overcome with the feeling I had eyes on me. I slowly turned, turned and looked behind me. There were three other people in the shop, what looked like a couple in their early twenties, and an overweight, balding middle-aged man alone at a corner booth. None of them had phones visible anywhere near them, and no one cast a glance my way. Still,

the feeling of being observed remained. Oh, sir, I heard a voice softly speak behind me. I turned, still feeling in a daze to see the kid staring at me, his eyes filled with concern, and a hint of annoyance. He held my toasted sandwich on the sliding railing in front of him, waiting for me to tell him what toppings to add. I shook my head, not wanting my expression to betray the unwilling feeling of paranoia, which had overtaken me. Oh, um, sorry about that. I stammered, then quickly telling him what I wanted. I paid for my sandwich, drink and chips, and stumbled to my car. Opening the door and dropping into the seat, I dropped the bag of food onto the passenger seat, then yanked the phone out of my pocket. I almost instinctively hurled it away from me into the

passenger footwell as though it were a venomous snake. What the hell is going on? I thought as I sat there, hearing the pitter-patter of rain begin to drum on the roof. That couldn't have been a glitch. Could it? I honestly didn't know. All I did know was that I suddenly felt beyond uncomfortable, not to mention thoroughly creeped out. I reached out and pushed the start button, feeling the Cadillac vibrate beneath me as the V8 rumbled to life. I began to debate what to do as I put the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. If I wanted to, I could take the phone to another repair shop, one that was still open and tell them about what had happened. But no, they likely wouldn't find anything wrong again. I could also try taking the phone to the police. Again, no, I thought

miserably as the realization came over me. They wouldn't be able to do anything since there's no number attached to the messages. I sighed as I came to a red light, staring out past the rapidly flicking windshield wipers. I could just go get a new phone in the morning. I've got all my contacts in a physical address book at home for backup. I could stop by Verizon tomorrow, tell them I need a new phone due to unforeseen circumstances. This one is still under warranty anyways. As I debated, I suddenly felt a chill slash through me as a familiar, now sinister seeming sound emanated from the passenger footwell. Ding.

Twisting my neck as though it were on a swivel, I saw the bright white light from the screen glowing up from the floor. The light turned green, and I stomped on the accelerator, the rear tires breaking loose for a moment, then shooting the car forward. As soon as I was through the intersection, I yanked the car over to the side of the road,

almost curbing the wheels. Jamming it into park, I tore my seatbelt loose and snatched the phone from its resting place. The first thing I noticed was that at the top of the screen, the Bluetooth symbol, something which I very rarely, if ever used, was now visible indicating it had been turned on. This brought back the paranoia which had begun to subside, but it wasn't what sent it into overdrive. That was due to the two notifications which appeared on the lock screen. The first was one which indicated that another device had been wirelessly with mine.

The area where it would show the device's name was filled with nothing but hashtags and starry. symbols. The second was what may begin to hyperventilate. The device asked for camera privileges. Almost on cue, the flashlight which also functioned as the camera's flash flicked on, almost blinding me with it. That decided it for me. I let out a strangled cry of panic, fumbling around in the cabin as my hand clawed for the driver's door handle. After a moment of sheer panic, my fingers found the metal godsend, and I yanked it back as hard as I could, kicking the door open and stumbling out into the pouring rain. I raised the phone as high over my head as I could and threw it towards the ground with all the strength I had. It crashed facing up at me, the impact letting out a huge

cracking sound as the plastic backing exploded. But I wasn't finished. Raising my right foot, I began to bring it down on the phone as hard as I could, stomping repeatedly as though it were an actual attacker I'd encountered in my house. I lost track of how many times I brought my foot down on the damn thing. I feel like I must have lost control of myself for a moment, because when I came to my senses, I was completely soaked to the bone, and the phone was nothing more than a broken pile of plastic, glass, and exposed wiring. Breathing heavily, I looked up to see a homeless man who'd taken shelter under the awning of a donut shop, staring quizzically at me. Realizing how I'd looked, I dropped back into my car, the seat letting out a squelch from my soaked clothes. I pulled the door

closed, allowing my breathing to slow to normal. I swallowed, then realizing my throat was dry, reached into the bag, and pulled out the bottle of coke I'd bought with my sandwich. I twisted the cap off and took a long swig, the cold, stinging soda quenching my thirst. I capped the bottle and placed it into the cup holder, resting my head back into the headrest. It's okay, Jared. You're okay. Whatever that was, the phone's broken now. It's over. I repeated the thoughts over and over to myself. When I began to feel a little better, I put the car back in drive and pulled away from the curb. As I drove away, I glanced in my rear view mirror for some odd reason. I don't know why I did, but something had told me to look.

I couldn't make out much in the dark and downpour, but I swear I thought I could see the faint outline of somebody standing on the curb near where I'd been parked. They stood absolutely still, and though I couldn't tell which way they were looking, I could almost swear they were staring after me. It made me drive home just a little bit faster. The next morning, I returned to the Verizon store, telling the woman behind the customer's service desk that I'd had an accident and had broken my phone. She was gracious enough, a smile adorning her face as she told me that I was eligible for a replacement phone under both my warranty and my contract, and gestured for me to pick out whichever one I wanted from the display section behind us. I didn't really pay much close

attention as I browsed, quickly selecting a random one from the lineup. After a few moments, she brought the phone and box out to me. Okay, sir, now there's just one final thing I need to check with you. She looked up at me. I assume you'd like to keep the same phone number we assigned to your old phone. At her words, I felt a surge of panic course through me. Though, I accidentally yelled out, causing her to jump. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell that out. I said, feeling embarrassed about the outburst. I just meant, if it'd be okay, if I could just have a new number, please. The woman gave me a sideways look, then plastered her working smile back on her face.

Of course, sir, we can absolutely do that for you. When I got back home after work that evening, I quickly entered in all my contacts into my new phone, then dropped it on my coffee table and walked to my entertainment center. A good movie will help take my mind off that, honestly, rather scary experience, I thought. Opening the doors, I reached in and pulled out one of my favorite movies, a British crime drama from 1956 called Yield to the Night. Placing the Blu-ray disc in the machine, I dropped onto the couch and let my mind drift away into the movie. For the next hour and 40 minutes, the world around me fell away and I immersed myself in the story of the main character who'd murdered the lover of her lover

and had been sentenced to death for it. When the film ended, I stood up and stretched my arms over my head, a yawn escaping my lips. I shut the TV off, then walked towards my bedroom. For a moment, I stopped and looked down at the new phone, wondering if I should bring it into the bedroom with me. But I shook my head and left it where it was, wandering into the bedroom and dropping onto it after pulling off my clothes. I tossed and turned, the movie now beginning to fall away from my mind, and the last few days returning. I tried to banish them away the same way a nightlight would chew away a child's imaginary monster, but no matter how hard I tried, the image of those messages spelling out the three words remained in my mind. And don't forget that figure you saw that night.

I groaned at myself from remembering that. More than likely, it had just been a passerby, someone interested in the odd-looking fellow stomping on his phone in the middle of a driving rainstorm like a madman. I tried to repeat that idea to myself. Soon, though, I drifted off into a rather uneasy sleep, one filled with terrifying dreams of the dark figure walking through the pouring rain towards my house. The next day, my office had a huge meeting with one of the members of the board to discuss a big merger we'd be dealing with over the next few weeks. I sat in my cubicle, waiting to be called into the huge conference room when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. The sensation made me jump, letting out a small gasp of air. Behind me, though, I heard Vivian laugh. I turned to

look at her, finding her smiling wide at me. I just sent you the funniest damn video I've ever seen before. She exclaimed, pointing at her own phone. I relaxed my shoulders, letting out a relieved sigh. Nice, I said, beginning to reach into my pocket for it. That's when the announcement went out over the speakers. Will all employees on the third floor offices, please report to the conference room. I slid my fingers through my hair and looked at Vivian. I guess that's us. I said, standing up, She nodded, then following me, we joined the throne of others walking down the hallway to the meeting. The room was massive, with the giant mahogany table taking up the majority of the space in the room. There was enough room for at least 30 or 40 people to sit at once, and we all dropped into whatever

seats we wanted. A moment later, the board member entered the room, greeting us and moving over to a slide projector. For the next 10 minutes, he spoke, droning on and on about our responsibilities. I was beginning to feel as though I would nod off when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I ignored it, knowing the head honcho behind us didn't like us looking away from his presentations. However, I felt it began to vibrate incessantly, the sensation almost feeling like a bee had become trapped in my pocket. Vivian, this better not be you, I thought exasperatedly as I tried as hard as I could to fish the phone out of my pocket without being noticed.

I had turned the brightness down earlier, so it wouldn't be easy to see. spot. Placing the phone under the edge of the table, I clicked open the phone screen and looked down. The sounds of the conference room and the words of the board member disappeared into the ether as I stared at the screen. My pulse began to quicken, and I felt my heart begin to thud hard and fast in my chest, almost to the point it was painful. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I thought I would simply pass out, right here and now. There were 21 text messages waiting for me according to the lock screen. All of them sent by, no number. Feeling a rising wave of panic enveloped me, I frantically flicked open the screen and clicked open the message app.

I already dreaded what I would see, but I still wasn't prepared for the amount of terror and dread I felt as I scrolled through each individual message, again containing only a single letter. This time, though, they spelled out a message, while similar to the first, was far worse. We are watching you, Jared. As I stared at the screen, two thoughts zapped through my mind. How did they get my new number? Oh God, they know my name. This second one was what made me feel like I wanted to throw up. Whoever was sending the texts, not only had gotten my new number, they knew my freaking name.

Fighting back the rising wave of bile in my throat, I stood to my feet. Something the matter, Wexler. The board member asked me, I felt the eyes of everyone turned to me. In the far corner, I saw Vivian giving me a weird, look. I forced a pathetic squeak of a voice out from my lips. I am, I'm sorry, I've got to go. And before anyone could stop me or say anything, I stumbled on shaky legs from the conference room. I didn't go to the bathroom, though. I went straight to my desk, grabbing the key fob

to my car and my jacket before taking the elevator down to the lobby. I practically dashed for the parking lot, crashing into a heap in the driver's seat after wrenching the door open. Fine, to hell with this, I'm going to the cops. I said to myself, starting the engine, I pulled out of the parking lot, and did just that. I went straight to the closest precinct, barging through the doors to the desk sergeant on duty. I sputtered out what I dealt with for the last few days, and after a few attempts to be understood, he guided me back to where a detective took my statement. After I'd finished, he leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. Well, as much as I admit that is both an odd and eerie thing to happen, Mr. Wexler, there's not really much I can do. Since you don't know who's

sending you these messages and don't have a number, I can't do much except tell you to contact us again if you receive them. I sighed dejectedly, my head drooping down to look at the floor. He spoke softly, more kindly. I wish there was more I could do. I looked up to see him lean forward. If I may, can I ask to see your phone? He asked, I fished it out of my pocket, handing it to him. Sure. Can I ask why? He glanced up as he pulled his own phone out of his pocket. I'd like to copy these messages to my phone for our records, just so if you get more of them, we know it's the same situation. I nodded, looking back down at the floor. After a few minutes, I heard the detective's voice speak. For some reason, it held a trace of irritation in it. Uh, Mr. Wexler, I glanced up to see him holding out my phone. Where are the messages you told me about? I felt my my jaw drop open as I stared at my own phone screen. The message app he'd opened, the only message app I had installed, was empty. There weren't even ones I'd sent back and forth with my friends and co-workers, let alone the creepy message. All it showed was a single line of texts.

Messages empty make a connection and send a friend a text. I blinked a couple of times, willing for my vision to be mistaken. But no messages reappeared. What? I let out, trying to force my mouth to form words. I don't understand. The detective dropped my phone on the desk, his irritation now apparent. I don't know what you're playing at, Mr. Wexler, but we have a lot of cases, real ones, to deal with. We don't have time for false reports to be made, which, may I remind you, is a crime in itself. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. Now, I'm not going to charge you with filing a false police report. He continued, but if you don't want to try my patience, I suggest you take your phone and leave. Unable to say anything else,

and feeling a wave of despair wash over me, I picked up my phone and left. As I walked outside, my phone vibrated and lit out a soft ding. Feeling equal amounts of fear and anger rushed into me, I flicked on the screen. This time it was a single message, two words. Nice try. I began to feel true rage well up in me when it went off again. We're watching you, Jared. And as if to emphasize the point, I saw the Bluetooth symbol flick on. I didn't know what else to do. I slammed the brand new phone onto the ground, then raised my foot and brought it down onto it. Screw you. I screamed out as I destroyed the second phone in two days. A moment later, I realized how I looked and glanced around. Everyone near me had stopped to watch the spectacle. The couple

teenagers had even pulled their own phones out of their pockets and were recording my, what I can only describe as a mental break. You look utterly insane right now, Jared, I thought. Looking around, I felt another wave of paranoia fly through me and felt the sensation of being intensely watched come over me. I didn't bother looking back, though. I didn't know where it was coming from, not with so many eyes and cameras on me.

I just strode away from the station, feeling equal parts terrified, angry, and paranoid. I made it to my car, dropping into the seat before pressing my hands into my eyes at the migraine which had fallen over me. I took deep breaths, fighting to stay in control of my emotions. Get a grip, man, I whispered out. After a moment, it seemed to work. Feeling calmer, I started the car and drove away.

Happily, and thank God for it, the next month or so seemed to pass by peacefully. I'd canceled my phone contract with Verizon, which resulted in a rather large early termination fee, but I willingly paid it. Instead, I used the money I would have on the monthly bill to instead purchase two different things. The first was a landline, something I hadn't had in almost 20 years. The lower tech style just somehow felt safer to me. The second was that I still needed some kind of mobile phone for work to be able to be reached when out of the house. So, I went off to Walmart and bought myself a burner phone, one of those you pay with a physical phone card.

I also didn't purchase a smartphone. I bought the most basic flip phone I possibly could, one that still ran off the old 4G phone systems instead of 5G, one which had no Bluetooth connectivity, barely any ability to access the internet, and most importantly, no camera on it at all. And for those next three weeks, my life began to get back to normal. That was, until one Friday afternoon. I had the day off, so I just lounged about the house, watching movies and playing video games. As I was attempting to get through a particularly difficult section of Horizon, Zero Dawn,

I heard my doorbell ring. Hitting pause, I got up and walked to the front door. On the other side through the glass mounted on the sides of the doorway, I could see the unmistakable shape of a delivery man. The FedEx logo was clearly visible on his hat and shirt. I unlocked the door and opened it. Yes, I asked. Jared Wexler, he asked, smiling at me.

I nodded. He held out. his portable computer terminal. Sign here, please. Taking the electronic pen, I quickly scratched out my signature, then took the thin sealed envelope from him as he turned and began walking back to his van. Shutting the door behind me, I stared at the envelope in confusion. I didn't order anything offline recently. Walking into the kitchen, I sat at the table and peeled open one side, shaking the envelope. Two items tumbled out of it onto the counter. The first I couldn't tell, as it had fallen face down. The second, however, hadn't. It had landed face up. As I stared at it,

my eyes widened, and I felt my breath began to come ragged and fast. My heartbeat sped up, thudding wildly in my chest. It was a single sheet of paper on which someone had typed out a single message. The letters had been typed in large font size, making each word crystal clear. We'll be seeing you soon, Jared. Fighting back a rising wave of panic, I reached for the upended sheet of paper with trembling fingers and after a moment's hesitation flipped it over. What I saw on the other side made my breath stop entirely. I felt a scream began to fight its way up from my chest as I stared at it, only turning to look back into the living room and back. It was a large, glossy color photograph. The detail was perfect and complete high definition. What had made me want to

scream was what the picture was of. The photograph was of me, me sitting on my living room couch, wearing the shirt and pants I'd worn two days ago. The shot was taken straight on as I'd relaxed, watching old horror movies. I could see the dopey half-smile plastered on my face as I'd laughed through deep rising. I knew instantly where the photo had been taken. The photo had been taken through the camera and my smart TV. Almost as soon as the note and photo tumbled out of that FedEx envelope, two things happened in rapid succession. The first was that I immediately dashed over to the wall mounted TV and clambered for the plug, yanking it out of the wall outlet hard enough to let out a small spark. For a moment, I stared at the small insect camera mounted at the top

of the frame, one I'd previously regarded with joy and intrigue, as I'd used it to video call friends and family who lived across the country. Now though, it reminded me more of something out of a dystopian horror novel. The second thing that happened was, I called the cops. Despite how my previous interaction with them, especially the detective, had gone, I dialed 911 anyways. This time, I had proof that couldn't be simply deleted out from under my nose. Still, I wasn't taking any chances. While I waited for them to arrive, I kept both the photo and note clutched tightly in my hand. I'd seen far too many films where physical proof had been left laying around,

only to have it swiped away when the authorities arrived. Like hell that's happening here. A few minutes later, I saw the two police cruisers pull up to the curb, and I opened the door. Just like with the detective, they treated my story with an understandable sense of skepticism. At first, their expressions changed when I held out the two items I'd received in the mail. After looking at them and sharing a look, they began to take me far more seriously. Many phone calls and radio transmissions were made, and half an hour later, the same detective I'd dealt with before, whose name I learned was Detective Monkhouse.

had shown up as well. This is very serious, he said, looking up from the now-bagged and tagged note and photo at me. Digital hacking and privacy invasion is a crime, but it's one which can be very hard to track back down to the suspect, Mr. Wexler.

I looked up at him from across my kitchen table, hearing the voices of other officers in my living room as members of the cybercrime forensics team examined the television. So, what are you telling me? I asked, a note of anxiety audible in my voice, that you're not going to be able to find whoever is doing this to me.

He shook his head. That's not what I'm saying, Mr. Wexler. Not entirely, at least. He held his hands out. There are many different types of cyber criminals. Everything from amateurs who leave behind a digital paper trail you can observe from the space station to some of the most knowledgeable black hats who rarely, if ever, get caught. We need to find out which category this individual or group of individuals are in.

We may be able to find them. He gave me a look of sympathy, but then again we may not. I felt my shoulders slump at his words and my head lowered down to look at the wooden table. However, I heard him say we are going to try our best to find them. If our own local cybercrime unit can't get any headway, since this seems to be beyond just a normal intrusion, we'll reach out to some of the bigger authorities for help. I looked back up and nodded.

A uniformed officer, one with a gray goatee, his head into the kitchen. Detective, the forensics team, have finished their overview. They weren't able to find any way the photo had been taken here. They're asking if they have permission to take it back to the lab for further study. Detective Monkhouse shot me a look. I waved my hand at him. Take the damn thing. As far as I'm concerned, keep it and lock it up in an evidence locker somewhere forever. I don't want it in my house anymore. He nodded at me, then nodded to the officer, who disappeared back into the living room. I saw him reach into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a card and placing it in the

middle of the table. This has my personal cell number, Mr. Wexler. If anything, and I do mean anything else shows up, be it physical or on your phone. I cut him off. I got rid of my smartphone, detective. I held up the flip phone which had been on the table beside me. He turned his head in surprise, then nodded. Well, regardless, get in touch with me if anything else happens, he said. I nodded. I nodded. I nodded. I nodded, then thought of something. What about in the meantime? I asked him as he stood up from the table. He scratched his head.

Well, for a few days, I'll have a squad car placed on the street in front of your house. It's unlikely these people will actually make a physical move on you, especially now that you've called us, but it'll be airing on the side of caution. I nodded, letting out a sigh of relief before thanking him. He waved me away and began to follow the other officers, to carrying my TV out to a forensic, van before turning back in the doorway. I'm sorry I didn't believe you at first, Mr. Wexler.

He admitted. I dismissed him with a wave of my own. You couldn't have known, I admitted. After giving me a final hard look, he nodded, then closed the front door behind him. I was left alone in the silence, which now seemed almost suffocating after the events of the evening. As I thought of something to do to help get my mind off of things, something flashed into my mind. I had two smart TVs, one which the police had taken, and a second up in my bedroom, which faced directly at my bed. Before the thought had even finished in my mind, I was dashing up the stairs and into my bedroom, crashing through the half-open door. It sat on top of my dresser, dark and silent. For a moment, I thought about letting it be. After all, the photo had come from

the downstairs TV, not this one. Nope, I'm not taking any chances here. I thought, as I crossed to it and pulled the power plug from the wall. I unhooked the cable and blue-ray connectors, then carried it downstairs and out the front door where I dumped it on the sidewalk next to the trash bins. The next day, as I had the weekend off of work, I drove to my local Goodwill and purchased two old TVs. Both were the old, boxy CRT sets, too old to have any way to have someone spy on me through them. I brought them back home and was setting them up when my landline rang. I answered, Daven's voice on the other end. Jared, what the heck happened at your place?

Molly was driving by last night, and she saw a couple cop cars out front. I began to open my mouth to tell him, but stopped. I'd known Davin for almost seven years now, as long as I'd worked for the company. I'd trusted him completely. Hell, the man had even invited me to his wedding. But, at the same time, I had no idea who was doing this to me. It could be someone many miles away, or it could be someone much. closer to home. The feeling that I couldn't trust anyone was one I'd never had before,

and I didn't like it. Still, I kept my cards close to the vest. Some homeless guy tried breaking into my house through the backyard, that's all. I lied, trying as hard as I could to sound casual. Wow, was all he said, a small moment of silence spreading out between us. For a moment, I thought he'd clicked off before he spoke again. Anyways, some of the office were talking, and we thought about having an afternoon lunch tomorrow at Chang's in the mall. You want to go? I debated on it for the moment, then nodded my head at no one. It'd be good for you to get out of here for a bit after this. Sure, why not? I said. Great, I'll let them know you'll be going. He said enthusiastically, before bidding me good night. I hung the phone up on its hook, then shook my head and went back

to setting up the new TVs. The next day, I walked out to my car at about half-past noon. I was I saw the squad car on the other side of the street and raised an arm to wave to them. They did the same, seeing I was leaving, and I saw one radio it in. Climbing into my car, I started the engine and backed out of my driveway. I decided I'd take a couple back roads instead of the main ones. Not only would it save me some time, it had also give me a chance to admire the beautiful trees and lakes on the way. I was happy to see very few cars also taking the road. As I passed an old farmhouse, the red barn and silos glinting in the light,

my car's dash let out a little ring. I looked at it, feeling a bit confused as I saw the notification. I had an incoming call displayed on the screen. What the hell? My flip phone has no Bluetooth, and I don't have anything else paired to it. Feeling a slight sense of uneasiness fall over me, I looked closer and saw Davin's name pop up on the caller ID. I reached out with my thumb and, after a moment's hesitation,

hit the green accept button on my steering wheel. Hello, Davin, I said. There was no answer from the speakers, though I could tell there was someone on the other end of the line. I could hear someone breathing, very softly. Davin, hello, I said. Still no answer. Okay, this is beyond weird, I thought,

and began to reach for the red disconnect button when someone spoke. But it wasn't Davin. Hello, Jared. I felt the color drain from my face and my hands gripped the word. wheel a bit more tightly. Whoever was speaking was using some sort of voice masking software, the same type you'd hear people use on crime programs when they wanted to remain anonymous. It continued, it's nice to finally speak directly to you. My voice had become lodged in my throat,

and for a moment I looked down at the flip phone in the cup holder. I'd program Detective Monkhouse's number into it, and I wondered if I could quietly flip it open, and speed dial him. I found my voice finally as I slowly took one hand off the steering wheel, watching a beautiful pond flash by on my left. Who the hell are you, and what the hell do you want? I said, attempting to sound intimidating, but knowing I failed miserably, the person on the other end laughed. Oh, come on now, Jared.

Where's the fun in spoiling the surprise on that? It laughed again. Maybe you'll find out. Then again, maybe you won't. My right hand had made it to the flip phone, and I slowly began to live. lifted out of the cup holder. That was when the brakes on my car locked up for no reason at all. I was shot forward. The only thing that kept me from smashing into the steering wheel being the seatbelt. The flip phone flew from my hand and landed somewhere I couldn't see as the car

began driving again. What the hell was that? I didn't hit the brakes. No, don't be like that, Jared. The voice through the speaker said, you ruined the fun for a while by going to the police and then tried to again when you called them last night. The person clucked their tongue. I'm not going to have us disturbed this time. It laughed again, and as I reached down, I heard my car let out a beep. Looking back up, I saw something which sent a chill through me.

My car is a 2020 Cadillac CT6V. I'd purchased it to treat myself when I'd gotten an extremely nice bonus two years ago, as I'd never owned a car as new before. One of the options I'd insisted on finding had been the true hands free driving system called Super Cruise. And now, as I stared in horror, and even though I knew it was a road it shouldn't have been able to work on,

the green glow from the top of the steering wheel indicated that it had been activated. At the same time, I felt the car begin to accelerate, even though my foot wasn't pressing hard down on the accelerator. The voice laughed again. You'd be amazed at how easy it is to hack into newer cars connected to the internet. It said, almost in a boastful tone, all it takes is a few keystrokes and, whoop. I stared at the speed as it passed 80 miles an hour

and kept climbing rapidly. Please stop the car. I begged. All I got was a laugh in return. Then the voice lost all humor in it. Enjoy the ride, Jared. It said, before the line went dead. The car kept accelerating, now reaching 100 and 10 miles an hour.

I reached out and frantically tried turning the steering wheel, but it wouldn't move an inch in my hands. All of a sudden, a new sound assaulted my ears. The radio had begun to play music all on its own. I stared at the screen and felt a sick, sinking sensation in my stomach as I recognized both the opening guitar riff and the name displayed on the screen. Don't Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult. In desperation, I began jamming my foot down on the brake pedal,

hoping something would happen. But even though it went all the way to the floor, the car only continued to pick up speed. trees, houses, and lakes went by in an almost indistinguishable blur as the car passed a hundred and thirty miles an hour, the speedometer almost on the far right side now. The lyrics to the song, one which for all my life I'd loved hearing, now held a sick, sadistic tone to them as the singer belted out the song's title over and over. What the hell do I do? I didn't know. There wasn't much I could do.

I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes as I was pressed back into the seat. That was when a sign whipped by on the side. the right. It was too quick to read, but I'd gone by it so many times that I knew what it had said by now. It was a sign advertising the biggest lake in our town up ahead, along with a parking and viewing space. As the car reached the bend in the road, I expected it to take the turn, but instead, and with a new feeling of terror, the car kept going straight, flying onto and down the narrow dirt and gravel road. I heard rocks and sticks slamming into the cars underside over the roar of the engine. That was when a fresh dose of horror crashed over me like

freezing wave. I knew what they were going to do to me. Directly at the end of the road was the parking lot, which sat behind a wooden fence, separating it from an almost 40 feet drop down to the lake. They're going to drive me right off the edge into the lake. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Screw that. I shouted out at no one. I knew if I tried bailing out of the car at these speeds, on this road, I would sustain serious, possibly even life-threatening injuries. But it was still better than possibly drowning. I made the decision and unbuckled my seatbelt, reaching for the driver's door handle. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the cool aluminum, I yanked hard.

Nothing happened. The door locks remained firmly down, the door unmoving. I tried again, getting the same thing. No, I screamed, then saw the narrow road open up. Beyond it, I saw a few cars parked on the edges and beyond the thin wooden fence, the shimmering blue waters of the lake. Oh, no. I breathed out my words barely audible over the still playing song, which had reached its guitar solo.

I scrambled over my shoulder, grabbing the seatbelt and frantically trying to hook it back into place. As it finally clicked, the car burst out of the road into the lot, having slowed down somewhat on the dirt, but still traveling over a hundred miles an hour. I saw the panicked faces of people turning to see me flying towards them, some yanking their children out of the way. I opened my mouth and screamed out as all I saw was the fence. And then, the car was airborne. It smashed through the fence as though it had been made of straw.

The front of the car lifted slightly, and all I saw were tree tops and the blue sky. At the speed I'd been going, the car made it halfway across the huge lake. And then everything slammed to a halt as it finally crashed into the water. I flew forward, my head slamming into the steering wheel hard enough that I almost lost consciousness. The airbag didn't deploy, no doubt due to something that loser had done to it. I pulled back, leaning into the seat as it sat in the water for a moment. I put my hand to my forehead, coming away and seeing bright red blood on the palm. Ugh, I groaned out in pain.

Thankfully, the music had stopped upon impact, along with the engine. But worse was that it had been replaced with a new sound. The sound of water filling up the engine compartment through the front grill. In a daze, I reached down and unbuckled the seatbelt, sliding forward slightly towards the wheel again as I was freed. The nose of the car began to sink into the water slowly, and as I regained my wits, panic returned en masse. Oh, hell, the car is sinking.

I knew I needed to get out now. I turned and grabbed for the door handle, hoping that now, whatever the voice who had hacked my car had done to it would be useless without power. But the doors remained locked, refusing to open. And without power, the windows wouldn't roll down either. I fought back the rising horror in my mind as I saw water slip over the top of the hood, reaching the bottom edge of the windshield.

Oh, crap, no, I mumbled out. Turning and gripping the back of my seat, I leaned forward and looked into the backseat. As my eyes swept over everything, a small glint of metal wedged under the passenger seat caught my eye. Yes, it was a tire on. iron when I'd used a few days prior to change a flat tire I'd gotten on the highway. I dropped it into the backseat when I'd finished and hadn't bothered to return it to the trunk. Reaching over, I fumbled for a moment, trying to dislodge it from where it had caught as I felt the car sink nose first further into the water. After a few frantic tugs, it finally came free and I turned around.

I let out a sharp cry as I saw the water had slipped over the entire windshield. All I could see out of it now was the blue, slightly murky shadows of underwater. At the same time, I felt something cold begin to splash against my legs and looked down to see water beginning to pour into the cabin. At that moment, a thought occurred to me. My phone. I frantically fumbled around in the passenger footwell, hoping the water hadn't risen over it yet. Thankfully, I found it just above the rising waterline. Snatching it up, I opened my center console and yanked out a waterproof baggie I'd put in there to hold some miscellaneous items of mine. I appended it, dumping the contents out,

then stuffed the phone into it and sealed it, tucking it into my inner jacket pocket. Then I picked up the tire iron and gauged how far I'd have to swing to shatter the driver's window, which, for the moment, still was above the water line. Information I'd learned when I was younger came to the front of my mind,

and I knew I only had a few seconds before the water covered it, making it almost impossible to break. Crying out, I swung as hard as I could, The first blow did nothing to it, I swung again. This time, to my relief, cracks began appearing in the glass. As I saw water begin to creep up the window, I let out a final scream and swung a third time. The window finally shattered into a thousand pieces of small glass.

Almost immediately, water began pouring into the now open window, and the car rapidly began to fill up with water and sink. I grabbed the roof of the car, struggling to pull myself out through the mountain of water pouring in. As the waterline finally reached me, I took one final gasp of air as I sank underwater. The pressure finally equalized, and I pulled myself out of the open window, pushing away from the car with my feet. I stared down for a moment as I watched it sink down, eventually too deep for me to see, then kicked as hard as I could for the surface. After a few agonizing moments, during which my lungs began to feel as though they were on fire, my head broke the surface. I sputtered, coughing out

bits of lake water which had made its way into my mouth. The shoes and clothes I had on way down, making me feel as though I'd sink again. That's when I felt someone grabbed me from behind. Get off me. I screamed, thrashing around. But the grip didn't loosen. Easy, I've got you. I heard a man's voice say, and I realized one of the people who'd seen me crash through the fence must have jumped into the water after me. I felt all strength leave me, and I lay back in the water as I was pulled back to shore where a crowd of 20 or so people had formed. They all had concerned or frightened looks on their faces, and after what they must have seen, I didn't blame them one bit. I heard one woman talking on the phone to the police, and the thought reminded me.

I reached into my soaked coat and pulled out the waterproof bag. The guy who had rescued me saw me pulling it out and crouched down next to me. I held it out to him. Husset, I muttered weakly. call Detective Monkhouse. Tell him. I wasn't able to finish my sentence as the steadily encroaching blackness which had crept around the edge of my vision finally overtook me and I passed out. I awoke sometime later, though how much I wasn't sure in a hospital. The first three things I saw, aside from the overhead lights, were the on-duty nurse, Detective Monkhouse and a uniformed officer. After checking my vitals, the nurse left me alone with the two officers and still feeling groggy, I told them what had happened. Both exchanged looks, especially when I told them the only

person who knew I was going out that day had been my co-worker, but I could tell now that they believed me, especially after our previous encounter the other day. The officer left for a moment to phone Daven. When he returned, they spoke quietly to one another, then turned and spoke to me. They told me that my car had already been retrieved from the lake. I'd been unconscious for two and a half days, and that even though it'd be almost impossible to get anything from the now waterlogged computers, they'd try anyways. Detective Monkhouse also told me that they'd managed to keep a lid on what had really happened, saying I'd just lost control of my car. I sat up in the bed. What, why? I stammered out. That was when they dropped the bomb on me. Daven was missing. He'd left his house about an hour

before I had, but had never shown up at the Chinese restaurant that afternoon. Molly, his wife had reported him missing the next day and as such they were notifying higher authorities due to the severity of the situation. I felt numb as they told me this. Daven, he's not involved in this. Right. I knew I'd felt wary of him yesterday when he'd called, but the idea he had anything to do with the hell I'd been dropped into, especially attempting to murder me with my own car, made me feel sick to my stomach. I trusted him. The officers told me they'd station an officer at my door and when I went home, they'd stationed two squad cars outside. As they stood up to leave, Detective Monkhouse turned to me. We're going to find these people, Jared. He said firmly,

for the first time using my first name. I nodded, and he turned and left. I stayed in the hospital for about three more days while the doctors and nurses checked to make sure I was okay. Aside from the gash in my forehead, which required stitches, I'd been lucky not to break any bones, getting away with many bruises and feeling as though I'd been run over by an elephant. When I was discharged, Vivian was there near the entrance to the hospital to greet me. I was slightly surprised to see her, but nevertheless happy as she flung her arms around me. Thank God you're okay. She exclaimed. I saw the accident on the local news the other day. When I realized it was your car they were pulling out, I thought. She trailed off, and not for the first time, I felt relieved I had someone

like her not only as a co-worker, but also a friend. A moment later, though, a feeling of doubt crept over me. Why would she show up now, of all times, just as I'm getting out? How would she have known I was getting out today? The feeling of paranoia returned in spades, and I quietly untangled myself from her. I'm fine. I lied, then motioned to the officers waiting to take me home. Look, I need time to myself right now. I'll try and be back at work. Whenever I can. I'll try. I'll try. I'll try. I'll turn to you. I'll talk to you about this then, okay? I saw her hesitate, but she nodded, touched my shoulder one more time, then walked back towards the parking lot. As she went, I looked around. I looked at all the people who stood in the hospital lobby at the ones walking through the parking lot. I saw them all

holding up their smartphones, scrolling through whatever, taking photos or talking on them. I saw the cameras for the surveillance system, both in the lobby and on the parking lot lights. I suddenly was overcome with a feeling of being unsafe and watched the same feeling I'd had twice before and quickly hurried to the officer's cruiser. For the next few weeks, nothing again happened. Everything seemed to mellow out. This time, though, I didn't feel relieved. It felt like whoever had set their eyes on me were just biting their time, waiting for it all to die down. The police and the upper investigatory team, nobody would tell me how high up they were, but I could guess hadn't made any headway into finding the culprit or culprits behind the car hacking

and text messages. Whoever it was, was good, never using one IP address too long to be tracked, and using encryption as well. That was all I was told, anyways. In the meantime, I'd been placed on paid leave by my job, and I mostly stayed home. I'd also purchased a new car with the money my insurance paid out for my Cadillac. This time, however, instead of buying a new car, I'd browse through Craigslist on my laptop. Covering the camera with tape, though, until I found an early 70s Ford Limited for sale, one which had no possible connection to the internet to it. I'd bought it immediately. Then, one Thursday, as I stood outside in the warm summer air, washing my new car in the driveway, I saw a van pull up to the curb in front of my house. I felt my heart sink as I saw it was a fed, and, and I saw it.

X-truck. A different man from the first time stepped out, carrying a familiar-looking delivery envelope. Feeling my heart began to thud hard in my chest, I dropped the water hose and sponge and ran around the side of the van. The squad car was still there, and I frantically waved my arms to be spotted. After a second, the two officers stepped out and jogged to me. What's wrong, sir? One asked. I couldn't find my voice. Instead, I jabbed towards the delivery man now walking across the front lawn to us. He froze as the officers sped over to him. After a confused moment, he handed them the envelope. While one officer detained him for questioning, the other pulled on a pair of sterile gloves from his pocket and tore open the envelope. Upending it in his hand, three items fell out. The first was a local

newspaper clipping of the accident I'd been in. It had been laminated, and in the giant, front-page picture I could see the tail end of my Cadillac being hauled out of the lake. The second, was another glossy photo. It had been taken through the broken fence I'd smashed through. I could see my own unconscious body, surrounded by people. Knowing they'd been that close to me, physically been that close to me, filled me with a fear I can't describe. The third was another typed note. Congratulations on surviving. Jared. Enjoy your rest. We'll see you again soon. Mr. Wexler, we need to take you into protective custody. Whoever is doing this to you has now made a physical attempt on your life. Detective Monkhouse said to me as he, once again, sat at my kitchen table.

The entire street outside my house looked like a big crime had just been committed with how many cop cars stood on the curb, some with their lights still flashing. The entire cavalry had been called in once the two officers had seen the contents of the new envelope, and along with them had come the detective. I sat and stared at him. For how long? I asked him, how long would I need to, whatever protective custody means, disappear, go away, whatever. For as long as is needed, until we can get a positive idea on these people, he replied, What about my job? My house.

He looked around. We'd let your company know you'd be out indefinitely due to police business. And, as for your house, we'd have someone watching it. Just in case they came by here, I turned the thought over in my head. Being locked away in some safe house didn't exactly sound the most appealing. to me. But then again, neither did another repeat of the events of the past few months. You don't really have a choice, Jared. I sighed. Okay, when would this happen? He nodded, seeming a bit more relaxed now that I'd agreed with his plan. Well, we need to get a safe house sorted for you,

somewhere off the grid. We'll have to use encrypted channels to minimize the chance of the location being given away. I'd say, he looked up at the ceiling, I'd say tomorrow, by the latest. And nodded again as he stood up. In the meantime, prepare a suitcase or two of your belongings to take with you. I'll have two squad cars parked out front and a third in the back. If you decide to go anywhere today, let them know. I stood up and shook his hand. I actually probably will go somewhere today, detective. I'm going to go to the bank to withdraw some money from my account to prepay at least the next few months of rent, as well as a few things I need if you're taking me tomorrow. He nodded.

We already have your bank location, so we'll keep an eye out for you there. Where are you going to go for the items you need? I didn't hesitate. The shopping center in the mall. There's a branch of my bank in it, so I can get both things done at the same time. I don't trust going to a place right now that might be empty. In fact, I raised my wrist and looked at the watch on my wrist. I'll go to the mall now.

He nodded again. Just don't take too long. He said, here at the house. will be the safest place you can possibly be right now. I agreed, then, after he let the officers know I was leaving, we both exited my house. As I unlocked the door to the Ford, I spared a glance at him as he stood next to his unmarked cruiser. He was staring at me, and after an uncomfortable moment, I nodded at him and slid behind the wheel. I backed the car out, still having to get used to turning and looking out the back window instead of looking at a rear-view camera, then began my drive to the

mall. As I stopped at a red light, I heard my flip phone begin to ring. Looking around for a moment, I pulled it from my pocket, half afraid I'd see no number displayed on the caller ID. Instead, I saw Vivian's name displayed. Still feeling wary after having seen Davin's name on my Cadillac's screen, I flipped it open and crooked the phone in my elbow as the light turned green. Hello, I said slowly. Thankfully, I immediately received an answer. Jared, are you okay? She's She asked, you haven't been into work in weeks, and Harold in the mailroom just told me he saw squad cars galore in front of your place earlier. The paranoid sensation I'd had when I'd seen her at the hospital returned.

But at the same time, it felt so damn lonely to not be able to trust anyone. In the end, it won out over caution. No, not really. I admitted you have a lunch break soon. Yeah, she said as I cruised down one of the main streets, I have mine in ten minutes. Why? I took a deep breath. Meet me at the coffee shop in the mall on the first floor by the bank in 20 minutes.

I'll tell you what's happening when I see you. I heard her begin to answer me, but it was suddenly drowned out by the sounds of chaos in front of me. I snapped my head up to see I was about to drive straight into the beginnings of a massive pile up in the next intersection, not even 20 feet in front of me. Crap, I shouted, dropping the phone and slamming my foot hard on the brake pedal. I heard the rear wheels lock up. and the car began to skid. For a few, terrifying moments,

I thought I'd slide straight into the hell of screaming metal and tires, which was still at a crescendo. Then it finally came to a halt. My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and I fought to get my breathing under control, and my heart to stop pounding. Very faintly, I could hear Vivian's frantic voice calling for me from my phone,

which had fallen into the driver's footwell. I reached down and snatched it up. Jared, what's going on? She yelled. Vivian, I've got to go. There's been a horrible accident. I said, just get to the mall. I'll be there soon.

I flipped the phone close before she had a chance to reply and put the car in park and jumped out. I felt sick to my stomach as I surveyed the carnage in front of me. At least five or six cars had been involved, all entangling with one another in a haphazard mess of torn metal and broken glass. A small, detached part of my mind realized. it looked somewhat like a twisted modern art exhibit, except for the people.

Several of them were still in their cars. I saw people from the sidewalks running over to help the people in the cars, while another dialed 9-1-1. The driver of a Mercedes in the middle looked to be unconscious, while an older gentleman stumbled out of his wrecked Honda, screaming at a dazed woman who stood next to her minivan. Lady, are you out of your mind? He shouted, the light from me was green. And you ran the red, are you nuts? The lady looked incredulously at him.

Are you nuts, sir? The light was green for me, which means it had to be red for you. Are you blind or something? They continued to argue, but their voices faded away from my ears. I wasn't listening anymore, a severe chill had shot up my spine. They both thought they had green lights. Stepping away from my car, I moved just enough to see the streetlights hanging over the intersection and felt another shiver shoot through me as my fear was confirmed.

Every light was green, all four ways. They stayed green, never changing back to yellow or red. In any other circumstance, I would have written it off to a major glitch in the system, but my mind refused to let me think it, especially as I gazed up and saw the traffic cameras mounted on top of the street lights. One had been pointed directly where I had been coming from. I felt a new sense of horror sweep through me as I realized the accident had been caused deliberately, with the intent of having me drive straight into it. Hearing the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance, I decided not to stick around and instead

walked quickly back to my car. Doing a U-turn, I looked in the rear-view mirror at the accident. Everyone was rushing to help the wrecked victims. Everybody except one person, what looked like a man with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, which shielded his face from view. He was watching me drive away. I took the side roads to the mall and perhaps too much of a hurry, constantly glancing in my rear view mirror while thinking I was about to see a car appear behind me.

Thankfully, one never did, and I made it to the mall without any other incident. I parked in the middle of the most crowded area, stepping out and hearing the familiar sounds of children screaming at their parents, along with teenagers laughing. I felt a double-edged sword of emotions, part relieved at the massive amounts of people I saw milling around, and unwillingly, and especially after seeing the man at the accident staring at me, increasingly paranoid. I glanced at my watch. Vivian would be arriving in 10 to 15 minutes,

which gave me just enough time to get the items I needed and get my money out of the bank. I walked inside, hearing a comforting song from the 80s playing over the ceiling mounted speakers as I made my way to the various stores. However, the comforting feeling faded away as I watched the cashier and the first store run my credit card.

I'm sorry, sir, but your credit card was declined. She informed me, handing it back. What? I breathed. I'd always paid my bills for my card. It had never once been declined. I froze. They did this.

I don't know how they got into my credit card account, but they did something. That thought was followed by another, one which sent a surge of panic through me. Very quickly, I paid for my items with some of the little cash I had on me, then left the store, heading quickly for the bank.

No, please for the love of God, no. I almost jogged into the bank and got in line. When I was called up to the teller, I gave her my bank card and asked her to check my account balance. She stared at her computer screen for a moment, then looked up at me. Sir, you withdrew all your money and closed this bank account this morning. I felt the color drained from my face at her words. I'd had almost $3,000 in that account, and someone had gotten into it, taken all the money out, then closed it. Not somebody, Jared, I thought, you know exactly who.

What about my alternate account? I asked desperately. I had a safety egg account for emergencies, one which I'd put almost $19,000 into just in case I'd ever lost my job or fallen ill. Nobody else knew about it other than me in the bank. After a moment of checking, she looked back at me. According to this, you did the same thing with that account as well, sir.

She said, looking at me strangely, I couldn't say anything. All ability to speak felt as though it had drained out of me, leaving me as empty as my bank accounts. It was all gone. They'd hacked into my bank accounts and taken all my money. I heard the teller asked me something, but I wasn't paying attention.

I just turned and slowly walked out of the bank, feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over me. They knew my exact weak spots, and they used the technology against me like they were wielding a sword. I was so lost in my thoughts, I almost didn't hear my name being called. Jared, I finally looked up.

Vivian stood across the main hall from me, sitting at a table in front of the coffee shop. She held two coffees in her hands and gestured for me to come over. The sight of her, standing there and having been kind enough to buy me a coffee almost sent me into tears. Instead, I forced them back and crossed over to her. I did drop my shopping bags, then did something I didn't normally do. I hugged her, hard. She gasped in surprise at the gesture of affection. While she had hugged me before, more than a few,

times, I'm not someone who's into physical displays of affection for friends, family, or anyone. This was the first time I'd ever hugged her back, and after a moment's hesitation, she embraced me as well. The lavender scent of her shampoo was comforting, in a way. After a moment, we let go, and I slowly sat down opposite her. Okay, now I know something bad's happened to you, if you're doing that. She said softly, Vivian, you don't even know the half of it. I said, putting my face in my hands. Then tell me, she insisted, reaching across the table and gripping my hand. I shook my head. I don't even know where to start.

I admitted. She tilted her head. Just start at the beginning and tell me everything. She said gently, I hesitated for a moment. I still didn't know if I trusted her. Even though I'd secretly harbored a crush on her for the last three years, the feeling of being unable to trust anyone remained deep in me. Just like before, though, the need to tell someone one out over.

her caution. I sighed. All right, I said, and then, for the next half an hour, I told her everything that had happened. About the threatening texts to the envelopes delivered to me with the messages and pictures, to the hacking of my car which had almost killed me, and finally ended with what had just happened with my bank and credit card. When I mentioned Daven might be involved, due to the coincidence with the car incident, and his disappearance, I saw her grow even more uncomfortable and shocked than she'd already become. I leaned forward and picked up my coffee, taking a large swig of the now lukewarm drink.

But why are they doing this to you? She finally asked after a long stretch of silence. I shook my head. I'd asked myself that same question a million times now. I wish I knew, Vivian. I said, I've thought back my whole life, even to my childhood to think if I might have pissed off or wronged someone somehow.

I can't think of anyone. I've always been nice to people. people. I put my head in my hands again. Another silence. But I just can't see Davin as part of this. She said, I couldn't either, but I also couldn't deny the fact staring at me in the face. I looked at her. You honestly probably won't be seeing me for a while. The cops are going to put me somewhere safe until they can get a lead on who these people are. At this, she gave me a look of sadness, and I realized how much she'd enjoyed working with me. The thought made me feel a tiny bit better. She nodded. Try and let me know you're okay when you can. Please. She asked, and I nodded

at her. I promise I'll try to as soon as I can. She stood up finally, and I mirrored her move. I walked close to her, enough I could talk low without being heard. Just please watch yourself, okay. I don't think you'll get sucked into this, but if you ever think you are, call the cops, okay. She gave me a look of concern, then nodded. I will. She gave me a hug. She gave me a hug, then left, leaving me alone among the strangers. I still had a few items to purchase, and I thanked God that I'd taken a few hundred dollars out of my now-closed bank account a few days ago.

I grabbed the bag I'd already bought and walked to the escalator to the second floor. Getting behind a mother with her two small children, I leaned against the railing as I began the long ride up. As it reached the halfway point, the mall speaker system chimed, a woman's voice speaking a moment later. Ladies and gentlemen, I've been asked to play

a specific song on our speakers and make a dedication as well. This song goes out to J.W., I felt myself go still as a statue. J.W. Jared Wexler, my name. Oh hell, I whispered. A moment later, the song began, and if I felt afraid just by the dedication, the song made me feel as though I'd had a bucket of ice water dunked over my head. It was every breath you take by the police, and if you know that song, you know exactly why the first few lyrics made my heart begin to pound like a war drum.

Okay, screw getting anything else, get out of here. That's what my mind screamed at me, and I listened. As soon as I reached the top of the escalator, I broke free from the crowd and sprinted back down the neighboring stairs, taking them two at a time. As I dashed through the mall towards the exit with curious eyes glancing up at me running by, my eyes caught glimpses of things I couldn't possibly be seeing.

I swore I saw the same man in the baseball cap, staring down at me from the second story of the mall. I swore I saw a young woman aiming her smartphone at me. I swore I saw every security camera in the main hall turned to follow me, and the flat screen TVs in the electronics store displaying videos of me running. And I swear that I saw another man. This one wearing a hoodie with the hood up and obscuring the top half of his face flashed me a grin as I broke through the doors to the outside, all the while accompanied by that damn song. I sprinted through the parking lot for my car. car, not stopping until I practically slammed myself into the side of it. I felt like I was having a

panic attack, my breathing labored and unable to calm down. I just stood there for the longest time, fighting to get a hold of myself. Finally, I felt myself begin to calm down, and I unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel. As I dropped my bags in the backseat, I heard my flip phone begin to ring. I pulled it out and felt my breathing begin to hitch in my throat again as I saw no caller ID displayed. It's them. I didn't answer it. I just kept staring at the phone until it stopped ringing. A moment later, it vibrated, giving the notification that I'd received a new voicemail. After a moment's hesitation, I flipped it open and went to it. After clicking through the options, I heard a familiar masked voice speak through the phone. Well, that's a bit rude

to send me straight to voicemail, Jared. But I guess I can understand. The person laughed. I hoped you enjoyed your run through the mall. It was beyond entertaining to see your reaction to our dedication. So there was more than one person behind this. The voice continued, seeming cheerful. But the best part about everything is, beyond the accident, or should I say both accidents, we haven't even gotten to the real fun yet.

Which reminds me, thanks for the financial donation to help us prepare your surprise. You're a real friend. I wanted to scream and hurl my phone away, but kept listening. So, keep an eye out for us. We'll be seeing you this time and person very soon. They laughed again, then, like they did before, turned deadly serious.

And don't try and escape. Because there's nowhere on earth we can't find you. Not with all the cameras and technology everywhere now. The voice shifted back to its happy, taunting tone. See ya. And with that, the voicemail ended. I ended the call and in a panic, fumbled to bring up Detective Mee. Monkhouse's number. He needs to know what just happened. But as I scrolled through my contacts list,

the phone suddenly began to ring again. I almost flung it away from me until I saw the caller ID displayed. It was the detective's name and number. Thank God. I thought, then quickly hit answer. Detective, something's happened here. I almost shouted into the phone. On the other end, I heard a commotion brewing. A moment later, I heard Detective Monkhouse's voice speak. No, they're coming at us both, then. He said, the venom audible in his voice. I froze. What do you mean?

I stammered out. They somehow got the drop on some of our uniformed officers here. One was oft, and the other three are missing. I slumped back in the seat. They have literally managed to successfully attack four trained cops. What chance did I have? The detective continued. What happened on your end?

He asked. Quickly, I relayed to him the events of the police of the police of. the last few hours, leaving out speaking to Vivian. I now believed she wasn't a part of this and didn't want to bring her into the line of fire any more than I already had. When I finished, I heard the detective curse. Look, we have to move up the schedule for getting you to the safe house. He said, but I'm going to need you to drive yourself to the meetup point with me. I'm going to have to stick around here for a while to help clean up this mess. Do you have a pen and paper to write down directions? I did, pulling a small note pad and

pencil out from the glove box, quickly scribbling down the directions he gave me. And one more thing. He added when I told him I'd gotten them, get rid of that flip phone. I didn't think before, but they can still likely triangulate your position through the cell towers. As he said it, I felt like hitting myself in the head for not remembering every cell phone, including the old flip phones, could be tracked. Okay, was all I could say. Then get going. He finished with before hanging up. I sat for a moment longer, staring out at the windshield back towards the mall entrance. I thought I could see a bit of movement in one of the windows to the side, as though someone were staring out into the parking lot. Forcing myself to look away,

I looked down as I popped the back of the phone open, ripping out the battery before twisting both sections of the phone apart, breaking it. I rolled down my window and dumped the pieces onto the pavement before starting the car and backing out of the space. I drove out of the lot, stopping only for a moment to completely fill the tank and purchase a paper map from a gas station and then began the long drive to where the detective had asked me to meet him. I kept away from the highways and main roads, knowing they'd likely all have traffic cameras on them which could track me easily, instead taking them much longer but safer back

roads. The miles crept by as the hours passed, the sun getting low in the sky. I stopped one more time to fill up the tank again, grabbing a gas station hot dog and a bag of chips for dinner before continuing. It was almost 10 at night by the time I reached the approximate area, where the directions had led me. I was far out in farm country, having passed by darkened farmhouse after darkened farmhouse for the last two and a half hours.

All of them must be fast asleep already, getting rest for the long day tomorrow. For some reason, the thought of such a simple life, and especially once a low-tech comforted me. I decided, if I made it out of this, I'd give some serious thought to ditching city life and coming out to a place like this for a much quieter and much more remote life. The sign for the road I was instructed to take Cain,

and I turned right onto a dirt driveway. The old Ford rattled and squeaked as it made its way up the drive towards another darkened farmhouse. I could see the outline of a grain silo and barn out in the accompanying field. As I got closer to the house, I spied what looked like an unmarked police cruiser, an older-style Crown Vic,

parked next to the house. The detectives already here, thank you God, I thought. I pulled up behind it and shut the engine off, the headlights shutting off and plunging me into darkness. The silence, for someone who lived most of his life in the city, felt eerie. All I could hear through the glass was the whipping of the wind, and the call of some owl or other birds somewhere in the forest beyond the farm. He must be waiting for me in his car, I thought, and twisted the,

door open. The night air was chilly, rewarding me with the stink of manure from the neighboring properties. Shutting the door quietly, I moved towards the darkened shape of the cruiser in front of me. I'd gotten about halfway when I stopped in my tracks. Something went through my mind. The police in my city stopped using Crown Vicks three years ago. Worse still was remembering that the car detective Monkhouse had stood next to earlier today hadn't been a Vick. It had been a Dodge Charger. No, I whispered. suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Jigsaw puzzle pieces came together in my head.

It was a set up. They somehow mimic the detective's voice. They made me get rid of the only way to contact or find me, then had me drive out to the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, every snap of a twig sounded like someone moving towards me in the dark. Every gust of wind sounded like someone breathing. My head swiveled around like an owl, though I could barely see anything. Screw this, I'm out of here.

I turned and hurried back to my car, pulling open the door and practically leaping into the driver's seat. I started the engine and turned the headlights on when a sound made the biggest chill I ever felt run up my spine. It was the sound of someone breathing behind me from the backseat. Welcome to the party, Jared. I heard a man's deep voice say behind me. I was suddenly grabbed from behind as I tried to kick open the driver's door and I felt a rag of some kind forced over my mouth. I struggled for a moment, my muffled screams sounding muted in the car's interior, and then everything went black. The sound of people quietly talking to one another was what began to

draw me out of unconsciousness. I couldn't tell how many people were speaking, but I could faintly tell, as my senses returned to me, that I was hearing both men and women speaking. I opened my eyes, finding I was lying on my back and staring up at the starry sky. It was still night-time, that whether it was still the same night or another, I couldn't tell. What I could tell, however, was that I wasn't near the farmhouse anymore. Large trees rose up on all sides of me, meaning I had to be in the forest I'd seen beyond the edge of the property. I also could tell my hands were bound with something. I couldn't tell if it were tape or anything else, but I couldn't force apart my arms from down near my waist.

Well, look who's finally awake. I heard the same deep man's voice I had in my car, carrying almost the same form. friendly tone, one would have when talking over drinks with a group of friends. Well, don't be rude, guys, help the man up. I heard footsteps rapidly approaching me, then felt arms grabbed me under the shoulders roughly, hauling me to my feet. A massive spotlight snapped on, almost blasting me directly in the face and blinding me. I closed my eyes and turned away from it. You'll have to forgive the light, Jared. I heard the man say, but there are some of our group who would rather you not know what they look like.

He chuckled. Even though the chances of you making it out alive are slim to none, I felt a chill at his words. He continued. However, I have no such qualms letting you see me. After a second, I heard more footsteps approaching me. They walked around the other side of me, away from the light. Well, come on now and open your eyes, then.

I opened my eyes, blinking away at the huge light, which cast everything it hit, including myself, in long, dark shadows. It also cast on a man, the one who'd chloro formed me and brought me here, and I recognized him. You have got to be kidding. I said, causing first him, than the many others behind me to begin laughing. It was the FedEx driver, the one who'd brought me that first package two or three months ago. He stood, flashing me the same smile he'd had when he asked me to sign that day. I cursed myself internally for not thinking of him as a suspect when I'd been paranoid of almost everyone else.

His black hair blew slightly in the crisp night breeze. Nope, I'm not kidding you, Jared. He said, his eyes twinkling. I took a step towards him, feeling a mixture of fear, and rage surged through me. What the hell do you people want with me? I screamed, why are you doing this? Why me?

Everyone, including the man, began to laugh even harder. I heard a woman struggling to breathe behind me from laughing so hard. Once the man had gotten a hold of himself, he took a single long stride before me, and I realized for the first time how tall he really was. I hadn't been able to judge his height through the door that day and had been distracted, but I could see that he was at least a head taller than I was, and I'm not exactly on the shorter side. His dark eyes almost looked like coals in the glare of the spotlight, and his smile had turned sadistic. Why not you? He asked, causing any retort I prepared in my mind to die away. Whatever I had expected him to say, it hadn't been that.

It continued, You're looking for a motive, aren't you, Jared? You want to, almost desperately so, have me tell you that there was some wrong you committed against me, or anyone behind the light. You want there to be something, some wrong you can't remember, that you might be able to write as some way to bargain out of this. He tilted his head, letting out a snort. Am I wrong?

I didn't reply. The truth was, it was exactly what I'd been hoping for him to say. The sound of an owl or hawk screeching in the woods made me almost jump, causing some of the people behind me to chuckle until the man raised his hand, causing them to fall silent. He looked at me with a mixture of what almost seemed like sympathy and a sinister glee. The truth of the matter is, my poor man. He began as that there is no reason.

There's no motive, none at all. A truly wicked grin now spread across his face, not beyond just wanting to have someone to play around with for our own entertainment. My shoulders dropped, along with my jaw. They are just doing this for their own sick amusement. I found my voice. So, you just randomly picked me to mess with before. What now offing me?

I sat in a shaky voice. He laughed again. Well, you weren't a random selection. He started, then gestured for someone behind the lights. I heard footsteps approaching us. One of our groups suggested you to us, and frankly, Jared, I'm glad he did. You're the most fun we've had in a while. The footsteps moved around me, and a figure came to stand next to the man.

Hey, Jared, I felt my body turned to ice at both the voice and the face. Vivian, I breathed out as I stared at her. She flashed me a grin, throwing an arm around the shoulders of the man, and let out a giggle. Oh, my God, do I wish you could see your own face right now? She managed out, you look like you just saw the twist ending to the sixth sense for the first time or something. I just kept staring at her as the man leaned his head down to kiss her. I'd honestly expected Davin to be the one to appear out of the darkness, but not her. Pain seemed to reach around and clutch at my heart as I realized the one person I decided to trust the most,

had been the one to betray me. I simply shook my head and turned away, staring out at the woods. Oh, don't be like that, Jared. I heard her say, using that same warm tone I'd gotten used to for years. I like you and think you're a cool guy. But when I mentioned you to my husband, she leaned in close to the man. He insisted you be our next little plaything. And what he says goes, she let out another giggle.

He leaned in close to her. You think we should drop the final bomb on him before we start our game? He asked her. After a moment, she nodded enthusiastically, laughing. He looked back at the group of people. Hey, would you like to come out here and greet our guest? He called to someone. I heard more footsteps approaching.

In my head, I already knew who they would be. Both Vivian and Davin are part of this group. They both were in on it. A third figure stepped next to them, and any of those thoughts flew away like an eagle on a thermal. For the longest time, I could only stare, my mouth now fully open. Finally, I let out a strangled cry. Hugh!

Detective Monkhouse flashed me a huge grin. Ebecha, Sport. He said simply, then turned to look at the man. So it hadn't been a voice manipulating program. or anything. It was truly him. The fact that a cop was part of this sick, twisted group of people filled me with a despair I didn't know I had. He quickly added one thing. You'll have to forgive me for deleting and getting rid of all the evidence in your case, along with clearing out the party spoiling feds. Mortars from the boss here. He thumbed at the man. Oh, I'm sorry, I should say the

evidence was misplaced and lost. He chuckled. Now the man finally spoke. So, I can imagine you want to know what we're going to do with you now, Jared. He unhooked himself from Vivian and moved towards me, stopping about five feet away. Well, the thing is, after we have our fun messing about with our mark, it's no fun to just stop and let them walk away. Not for us, anyways. That's why Frank here, he gestured to the detective,

gave us the idea about five years ago to have a grand finale. Monkhouse grinned. The man continued. So, what's going to happen now is this? You're approximately 30 miles from the town you went into last night. The farmhouse would be the first thing you come across. We're going to cut you free from your bonds and give you a three-minute head start. The detective moved in, and I resisted the urge to strike out at him.

There was no doubt that at least one or more of these people were armed, and I didn't want to get a bullet in the back. He pulled a knife from his belt and reached out, grabbing my bound wrists, and cutting the duck tape from them before quickly stepping back. Once your three minutes are up, we are going to come after you, using all the technology that this society has grown a false sense of security around. If we catch you, well, he trailed off, raising a finger to his throat, and drawing it across his throat like a knife.

But if you can make it to the farmhouse and your car, you can go free. He held up two fingers. Scouts on her, he said mockingly, causing everyone to laugh. Of course, nobody's made it out yet. Vivian said, her voice taking on a sinister tone I'd never heard before. That's true. The man began before slapping his forehead. Damn it, why did I almost forget?

You're going to have a partner with you on this. He let out a whistle, and a second later, a figure landed roughly on the ground next to me, making sounds like they were in pain. I turned to look at him. Thavin, my co-worker and friend lay in a heap on the grass. It was clear the group had gone to work on him. Old bruises covered his face. They must have gotten him when he had gone to the Chinese restaurant that day, I thought.

I quickly moved and knelt down next to him. He looked up at me with dazed eyes. Jared. He groaned out softly. I felt a new sense of rage ripped through me, almost overwhelming the fear I'd had. As I knelt, my coat I still had on, jostled in the breeze. And I felt something gently tap my chest. Something that hadn't been taken from me when I'd been unconscious.

Something nobody, not the man or anyone else. had found. As I was hunched over, I had the perfect opportunity to slowly reach into the jacket and begin to pull it out. So, the man said, raising both his hands as he stood next to his two friends, the two people I trusted most, it's time to begin. He leaned forward, grinning at me, and put on a mocking tone, trying to sound like a judge. Does the soon to be dead have any last words they'd like to say? At this, the entire group let out the biggest laugh I heard them make yet. They found the whole messed up situation entertaining and amusing beyond measure. It made me feel sick to my stomach. I slowly helped Davin to his feet. The man didn't hesitate. He'd seen what I now

held, and it had snapped him fully awake. Actually, yes, I do have something to say. I said loudly, causing everyone to fall silent as they waited for me to speak. Say cheese, jerks. I screamed, then raised the digital camera and slammed down my finger on the shutter button. A bright flash of light caused the man, Vivian and Detective Monkhouse to raise their hands to their face as I snapped their picture. Run, I screamed at Daven, and together the two of us used the moment of confusion to begin sprinting towards the trees. Behind me, I heard the man scream out, all trace of sadistic humor gone from his voice. He sounded enraged, not having been prepared for my move. Screw the three-minute window, get them before they get away and ruin everything. The flurry of movement

was heard and I thought I heard the slamming of car doors. I didn't pay attention, though. I was too focused on running as fast as I could in the direction. Davin paced me, I could see him out of the corner of my eye, running alongside. The trees closed and around us, and we entered the forest. After a minute, we stopped to catch our breath, the sounds of our pursuers muted and faded in the distance. What the hell do we do? Davin managed out between huge gulps of air. I fought for breath as well, We just keep going in that direction. I pointed. I think he was telling the truth about going there.

He doesn't expect us to make it. That's why he taunted us with it. It's part of their game. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. We've got to make it to the farmhouse and my car. I held up the camera, and we've got to get this to the authorities, ones that can put the word out about the detective. I began to speak again, but I was interrupted by a buzzing sound whipping through the trees.

We both looked around. A blinding flash of light made me raise my hands. Duck. I heard Davin yell, and I listened, letting my legs give out under me and drop to my knees. A moment later, a drone flew only inches above our heads. I was yanked to my feet. Go, before it comes around. My friend yelled, and we both began running again. The sound of the drone began to approach us again, and we ducked, moving sideways away. It flew by a few seconds later, heading straight ahead. We kept running. After a few minutes, we stumbled from the trees onto what looked like a disused logging road. I was about to suggest to follow it when I saw headlights cut through the darkness.

Hide. I hissed and both of us ducked into a bush. A minute later, at Tesla Model X, one raised slightly on lifted suspension, with off-road tires and roof-mounted lights banishing away the dark, flew softly past our hiding spot. It disappeared down the road, and we both looked at each other. No Rhodes, he whispered, and I nodded in agreement. That's when the whirring sound came from behind us. We both turned to find a drone, a different one this time, hovering behind us about 10 feet away. I could see the camera focusing on us, but there was something mounted below it I couldn't tell. Apparently, Davin did, though, because I saw his face go pale before he was yanking me away from the bush,

screaming for me to move. A moment later, I understood why, as a line of flame shot out from what had to be a custom some flamethrower, setting the bush on fire. They'd meant to set us ablaze. My mind screamed at me, but I couldn't stop to think. We ran deeper into the forest as we finally began to hear the sounds of people yelling. I heard angry shouts, but I also heard excited yells and laughter as they crashed, drove, and ran through the woods in pursuit of us. They were relishing in the chase as if they were high-tech hunters on the trail of deer, or birds. As I ran, my mind stupidly shot back to a phrase from a book I'd read in school, one which sickeningly seemed to fit.

Man is the most dangerous game. If it had been any other situation, I might have found it amusing in a twisted way, someone making a work of fiction into reality, but there was no time for it. All of a sudden, a loud, blaring horn began to sound. I shot a look to my right and saw we'd ran straight through laser motion sensors they must have put up. The sounds of our hunters seemed to intensify, and I heard at least two drones, if not more buzzing in our direction. Move, I shouted, shoving Davin forward.

We crashed through a thicket, the thorns tearing at our clothes and skin. I felt branches and bushes smashed me in the face in the dark, and I prayed neither of us would run into a tree or any more motion sensors. Look there, Davin panted out, pointing. Ahead of us was what looked like some old buildings. I held a hope for a moment that it was a place that was still in use, but as we broke the tree line, it was dashed away. We had stumbled into what was obviously once an old logging camp.

The abandoned machinery and older style of the buildings, combined with the moss and mold I could see growing on the outside in the moonlight, showed that it hadn't been used in decades. That was when a muted sound came from behind us. I almost thought I recognized it. It came again, and a cloud of dirt kicked up in my face as we were again blinded by a bright light. Another drone had found us.

and this one was armed like the last. The sound of what I now knew was a muted gunshot spat out, and I felt slivers of bark smash into my face as it ricocheted of the tree next to my head. Run for the buildings. I screamed, and we both booked it for the darkened structures. We were halfway across the dirt road when I felt a searing pain pop into my left calf muscle. I fell to the ground, rolling for away. In the gloom, I reached down towards the pain.

I gasped both at the pain, and the feeling of something warm trickling steadily out from my leg. I've been shot. I could hear the sounds of the group getting closer. What had to be a vehicle's lights appeared at least two miles or so, down the end of the road leading in and out of the camp. Then I was being lifted to my feet. Daven threw my arm over his shoulder,

and as much as I could, we both moved quickly for the nearest building. The light came from behind us again, and I heard the muted sound of the silencer as we were shot at a few more times. bullets tore into the dirt at our feet and lodged in the wood of the building, just barely missing us. And then we were inside. Davin slammed the door, and in the dark, I heard him lock it. I stumbled across the room, leaning on the wall for support. Here, I called softly as I found a set of steps going down to what had to be some sort of basement.

I felt him reach me, and one at a time, we slowly moved downstairs. As we reached what felt like a dirt floor, we heard our hunters reach the camp. Then he shouts and orders came, and we heard the sounds of tires as what had to be electric cars or trucks flew past the building we hid in. Then, after a small squeal, a voice came over on a megaphone. Little pigs, little pigs, come on out. It was the leader. There were a few moments of silence, then he spoke again.

Look, you managed to surprise us with that move, and I'm going to make sure next time everything's out of our next contestant's pockets, but I commend your thinking. We've got one over on us, and you have something which puts you with a bit of an advantage. So I'll make a deal with you. If you come out and give me the camera, we'll just let you go. Okay. There was a small inset window on the far corner of the room, and I saw the beam of a flashlight pass over it. In that split second I saw Davin looking at me.

He shook his head at me, almost frantically. I shook my head back, and the light moved away. We both knew that the man was lying through his damn teeth. There was no way he'd let us go. The second he got that camera in his hands, we'd both be gone, I thought. There was silence for a few more moments, and then I heard someone else speak through the megaphone. He's telling the truth, Jared. I heard Vivian's voice call.

All we want is the camera, and I promise you, I'll make sure he lets you live. Neither of us made a move. Suddenly, the man's voice came back through the megaphone. Fine, have it your way. He laughed. You know we'll find you soon. or later. We have all night. His voice became deadly serious, and I knew it had been him who'd called me up those times with the voice changer. And when we catch you, we're going to take our

time ending you. And with that, he clicked off. The yells and calls of men and women resumed. I limped my way over in the darkness to where I knew Davin was. Hitting the wall with my shoulder, I slid down onto the dirt floor. We have to think of something to do, man. I whispered to him, if we stay here too long, they'll find us. It can't be much farther to the farmhouse from here. We need a plan. I heard him grunt in the dark. We do.

He finally said, And I have one. There was a cracking sound, and suddenly a soft, green glow came from next to me. Davin had found an old chemical light, and cracked it, bringing it to life. And the soft glow, he looked at me. What's your plan? I asked him. I knew the guy was smart, nobody gets as far in the company.

as we do, without brains. But the answer I got wasn't what I expected. The plan is, I run in one direction, taking all their attention while you run for the farm. I gaped at him. Are you nuts? I hissed, we're not doing that. It'd be a failed mission. He smiled a bit at me, then winced in what looked like pain.

I know, he said, then seemed to sag a little. Davin, I whispered slowly. I saw finally that he was clutching his stomach. He looked at me, then moved to me, then moved to him. He looked at me, then moved his hand away. I gasped as I saw the crimson red soaking the lower front of his shirt. I snapped my head up to look him in the face. He gave me another pained smile.

I got hit when I went back to help you up. The shot went right through me. He coughed and I saw a small trickle of red trail from his mouth. I kept my voice low, but gentle. There has to be another way. We both need to get out of here. He gave me a hard look. Jared, there is no other way, and you know.

it. He looked down at the red liquid, and I don't have much longer. His eyes met mine. They were hard, resigned. We're not both getting out of this. He said weekly, but you can, at least. You need to get out of here. You need to tell someone the truth. To get that picture to them. He raised his chin high, trying to act tough, but I could see a little fear behind that resignation. Let me do this. I wanted to argue, even as I heard the buzzing of more drones overhead, and more shouting. But I knew he was right. As much as I wished there was any other way.

I still hated it, still felt guilty. Tears welled in my eyes. It was my fault Davin had gotten into this. Still, I nodded. Okay, I finally whispered. I saw him nod, and then he began to push himself to his feet. I reached down and helped him, letting him lean on me for a moment. He looked at me, then nodded, and began to walk slowly, towards the stairs.

He stopped near them, seeing something on the ground and leaning down to pick it up. He looked back at me. Tell Molly, I love her. He whispered quietly. I didn't know what else to say, so I just nodded again. He held my gaze a moment longer, then nodded back and slowly began ascending the stairs. I was left alone, my thoughts and emotions both buzzing. I wanted to chase after Davin, but again, I knew he was right.

A few moments later, I heard someone shout. There they go, I see the camera. The entire camp suddenly became awash with noise and activity. I stood near the small basement window, and I could see multiple shadowy figures, at least 20 or 30, dashing out of the other buildings. Don't let them get away. That had been Detective Monkhouse's voice,

and my body filled with rage hearing it. Still, I kept silent. A moment later, a truck, what looked like one of those electric Rivian pickups, skidded to a halt next to a figure, what I could see was the detective. I could see Vivian sitting in the passenger seat, and I knew that meant the man, the leader, had to be behind the wheel.

There was the sound of a door slamming, in the truck, silent except for the soft whir of the batteries and tires, shot forward. The sounds of the group slowly faded away. Now's the chance. Forcing myself to put more pressure on my injured leg, making me want to scream, I crossed to the stairs. Stopping, I looked down at what my friend had picked up.

It almost made me want to burst into tears. It was a small brick, almost the same size and shape as the camera in my pocket. I ascended the stairs as fast as I could, unlocking the front door and stepping out. I could hear the group still moving away from me, and I gave a silent prayer that the blood loss would take Davin before they got to him. The air around me had again fallen silent, save for the usual sounds of the woods. I didn't wait long, I moved down the stairs, then began to half run, half limp in the direction opposite where they'd gone, towards where the man had said the farmhouse would be.

The terror kept my adrenaline pumping, which allowed me to ignore the bullet wound somewhat. As I ran, I kept looking over my shoulder, sure I would see the bright lights of their vehicles or the whir of their drones. But I never did. It felt like an eternity running, trees and bushes smashing into me as I ran. A few times I fell onto my face in a heap, the pain in my leg almost too much. But finally, I burst through the edge of the trees. I looked around, seeing that the moon was still high in the night sky. Then I began to openly weep as I saw the darkened shape of a farmhouse looming up. Feeling woozy from the blood loss and stress I'd put on my shot leg, I forced myself to keep going.

The Crown Vic was gone, but the old Ford, my beautiful old Ford still sat in the driveway. I lit out a soft, strained laugh. The loser hadn't been lying. He'd been that certain nobody would make it. Reaching the car, I pulled the driver's door over. and collapsed into the seat. Like a godsend, the keys still dangled in the ignition, and I wrenched on them, the old engine coming to life with a cough.

As I put the car into reverse, I stared one last time at the woods. Godspeed, Davin. I whispered softly, then tore out of the driveway. It's been almost a year since I burst from that tree line and tore away from that farmhouse. Once I got onto the main road, I drove until I got to the first town, where I went straight to the police. I can only imagine how I must have looked, crashing the Ford into a parking meter before smashing

through the front doors of the small police station with my clothes torn and dirty and a bullet wound in my leg. The police rushed to my aid and after summoning an ambulance, I told them my story insisting that they get in touch with higher authorities right away. Thankfully, they didn't just write me off as a nut job or crackhead running from a drug deal gone bad and did just that. By the The next morning, the small town of a few thousand was awash with flashing lights as members of a very high agency, one which I don't dare outright name, but I can assume you can take a good guess, flocked in. I was questioned about my experience.

I saw the head honcho's face light up with excitement when I showed him my camera, which he took, looking at the photo I snapped. We've been after this group for years now. He said, it turns out these people are a lot worse than I'd already thought. Apparently, they'd been taunting, emotionally tormenting, and finally kidnapping and offing people for close to 15 years now. Many of their members were black hat hackers, able to get into just about any piece of modern technology and twisted to their benefit or use, and they would use the money stolen from

their victims to keep funding themselves. I shuddered when they told me the number of people who'd fallen victim to them already. I was simply the first to ever get away. It also turned out they'd had their suspicions about to determine. detective Monkhouse, when he began trying to get them off the case, claiming it was a local matter and out of their jurisdiction. So, you'll be able to get them all now. I said hopefully as they spoke about printing out a picture, but the man simply shook his head, almost sadly. I don't know if we will, he admitted, seeing my shocked expression. As he explained, it turned out

they were good at changing their identities, using stolen and forged IDs and social security cards, along with changing their physical appearances, to stay out of the clutches of the authorities. There is one bit of good news, though. He said, you'll likely never see or hear from them again. It'd be too risky for them to make a move on you now. Still, they said they'd put me into the witness protection program, giving me a new identity to start over. Before they did, however, I asked for one favor. I honored Davin's final request and called Molly. Thankfully, they let me. fiercely when I told her the little I could, and especially when I passed on his last message, but thanked me before hanging up. They never found Davin's body. They found a large pool of blood

out in the woods, one which a DNA test confirmed was his, but nothing else. I pray he's at peace and long gone from this world, not with them. They were also right about never catching them. Vivian and Detective Monkhouse fled, never returning to the city. The last I heard, they're still tracking the group, and they're still doing what they did to me, to others, something which chills me to the bone. They also, I found, hushed it up, never letting it get out to the national news. The excuse they came up with was that an unfortunate victim had wandered across the path of a drug deal, causing the chaos. Since it's such a common occurrence in the U.S. these days, nobody thought to question it. They didn't want word to get out and cause a panic,

or have people suddenly dump out all their modern devices in a mass panic. As for me, I never saw or heard any trace of them again, something I thank God for. The Fed had been right. I must have become too high profile to dare make a move on. I'm now living across the country, thousands of miles away from there with a new name, and I say a silent thank you to Daven every day for it. Even if I could say where, I wouldn't. All I will say is I did decide to live a quiet, remote life with my life.

new identity on a farm. I feel a happy sense of peace out here, but I'll never own any modern pieces of technology again. No smart TVs, no smartphones, no modern computers, nothing. I collect older technology, CRT TVs with VHS and DVDs for entertainment using a free antenna for the news. All my appliances are from the 80s or before and I don't own any cell phone, only having a landline in my house. All my neighbors are either of older age than me, or simply prefer a low-tech existence, which I honestly love. I don't think I could deal with getting gifted some modern piece of tech now. The town nearest to me, thankfully, is still stuck in the 90s at least, without many, if any, cameras around. I feel

safe moving about it because of that. That's where I am now, writing this from a computer in the local library, and that brings me to why I'm posting this in the first place. I'm posting what happened to me because, as much as I understand the authorities' wishes to not send the public into a mass panic, you need to know. I know many of you won't believe me, but I need to warn you regardless. Those people are out there. They're finding new victims to have their sadistic, horrifying game with, and I don't want it to be you. The world is so dependent and addicted to technology now. You might be as well. I understand that it's the way the world is at this point. But please, still, be careful. Be careful. and be wary of all the cameras and microphones you allow into your home with nary a care in the world.

Be careful of the privacy you give up for the sake of convenience, because you never know who may be listening or who may be watching.