Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary CRYPTID Horror Stories That Will Give You Nightmares

Episode Date: August 21, 2024

These are 3 Scary CRYPTID Horror Stories That Will Give You Nightmares Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ ►Entropic Society ►FirstBreathe1 Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:21:30 Story 2 00:56:17 Story 3 Music by: 'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #skinwalker #cryptids #parkrangerstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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She sighed. The one weekend I get off, and everyone decides to go camping here, she whispered to herself. She drove by the packed rows, frustrated and nearly ready to leave. But as luck would have it, a small single spot revealed itself to her. She waited ever so briefly to weigh her options. I should just go back home. I don't even like camping, she told herself. However, a car behind her honked, interrupting her moment of reflection,

and she pulled into the spot. She got out of the car, grabbed her large backpack, and went to the mouth of the trail. The nearby lake was slightly less crowded, but people lined most of the nearby lake shore, and a few dozen watercrafts were out enjoying their day. Oh, how Kira wished she could be out there with friends,

basking in the sun and cool water, enjoying her time, perhaps drinking and gossiping about work or boys. But that wasn't the case for her. She had lived mostly a sheltered life, never taking risks, never acting on desires outside of her control. She was a loner, but not by choice. Her anxiety and depression had a firm grip on her, one that she felt she would never be released from. She proceeded to the trail and glanced to both sides.

Colorful tents and camping chairs lined fire pits, and the woods were bright and full of people playing various yard games. Each campsite seemed full. She continued her way down to the end of the trail, where thick woods seemed to provide a barrier from the joyful campsites in the bleak woods beyond. She glanced back one last time, and much like her life, there was no room for her here amongst the happy people. She wanted to cut her losses and head back home, but remembered that her therapist had promised that if she did something outside of her comfort zone, she'd begin to grow. She pressed forward through the woods, still able to hear the commotion of the other campers. Near the trail ahead of her was a similar view of land, but much more cleared out. Although talking to normal people in everyday situations was really hard for her,

she loved the lonesomeness that the woods provided. Nighttime especially, the darkness seemed to call to her. She secretly longed for it, the blackness of the void to cover her and erase her from this painful world. The worn trail seemed to be less maintained the further she went into the woods. The twists and turns made it feel like this path went on forever. Instead of just camping off the trail, an idea had crept into her mind. What lies beyond? she thought.

Just further down into the woods, perhaps there was the perfect spot for seclusion, a nice dark little nook just for her, what she lacked in social ability she made up for in curiosity. maybe just out of earshot of the other campers she thought as she hiked into the darker recesses of the woods the untouched portion of the woods was less appealing to the eye but much more gratifying over all This was real nature, not the ideal construct of what people tend to make it out to be, but the real unfiltered nature that she so desperately needed. Time didn't seem to affect her as she eventually found herself a good ways in, beyond the sight or sound of anyone else.

She began to set up her one main tent by clearing the litter of leaves out of the area. The uneven ground proved difficult, but once the tent was fully erect, it didn't seem to matter. Once the site was fully set up, she realized that there was much more daylight left than she had anticipated. Simply sitting in her tent didn't appeal to her. The idea of walking back over to the overpopulated campsites to try to make friends seem troublesome, but taking a reflective hike deeper into the woods was far more appealing. She set her stuff down and didn't bother taking her phone.

She only brought her half-full hydro flask and a small jacket, just on the off chance that the weather decided to take a turn for the worse. She made sure to keep a mental note of where she was going, so as not to get lost in the unfamiliar woods alone, but she wasn't terribly worried. Despite her being tucked away in the portion of unmarked woods, she quickly found an old trail that led deeper into the forest. The path was unkempt, almost unrecognizable had she not been looking for it,

but now that she was on it, it was almost impossible to miss. She placed a single earbud in and played an audiobook while also keeping an ear out for nature. Normally she would indulge herself with an additional substance like shrooms or THC, but seeing how she was alone in an unfamiliar forest, she decided to hold off until after her hike. About an hour into the hike, she began to realize that the atmosphere she had seen earlier was nearly the opposite. The lively chatter of nearby campers was replaced by an unsettling silence. Birds and small insects had ceased their noise, the overall vibe matching that of a cemetery. However, this was exactly the kind of peace she was looking for, but not to this degree.

Silence was always welcome to her, but this was something else. She looked around and removed her earbud to better ground herself in where she was. Trees surrounded the trail, but up ahead a couple of hundred hundred. yards or so, a small clearing indicated something of value might be there. The walk to the clearing was much different than the entirety of the hike. Fear, perhaps of stumbling upon someone's remote cabin, crept into the back of her mind. She had heard her fair share of horror stories of hermits occupying remote cabins to make drugs or perform ungodly acts away from society. However, this all dissipated almost instantly once she reached the mouth of the clearing. Sitting in a

in the open field, perhaps 100 feet in the air or so, was a gargantuan structure. The metal frame and its supports were old and rusted, but still seemed to support the small viewing station sitting on top. Kira racked her brain for a few moments, but quickly realized that this was a fire tower. There were no signs posted at the base of the stairs, and no indicators of restricted access. She quickly walked over and examined the stairs up. She listened briefly, but the overwhelming silence persisted. The option to turn back at this point was going to have to wait. Kira had been able to follow the old trail to a hidden treasure tucked away in the woods, all for herself to examine. She began up the stairs, excited to see what wonders she would be

able to see from the new perspective she had found. An unobstured view of the lake was most likely an option. Her excitement was beginning to cloud her judgment. She speedily ascended the stairs, not worrying about the potential dangers of going inside an old structure. The tower creaked slowly as its frame moved slightly in the wind. Her footsteps sounded up the tower, filling the silence of the forest nearby with excitement. Unaware of her pace, she ended up stopping about three-quarters of the way to catch her breath. Her legs began to burn slightly as the hour hike plus the rigorous stairs began to take their toll.

Looking out from the staircase, she could already see above the tree line. Far stretches of green met her gaze as she drank in all that nature had to offer. She prepped herself for the last few flights before reaching the top. Her hike was going to be much slower, but she didn't mind. Before she started up the stairs again, the excitement of the fire tower was beginning to diminish. She was now more aware. She bent down to tighten both shoes and noticed that the stairs, mixed with their rust, also had dried stains. Surely this could have been mud or tracks of other people, but the thought

crept into her mind. Once the realization hit, she listened, not just for the enjoyment of nature, but to try to see if there was something else nearby. Again, the silence was far too heavy, but now she was actively conscious of it. She continued, but much slower this time. For some bizarre reason, her anxiety, the one thing she was trying to escape from, had returned. Her brain was on high alert, telling her that something was wrong, but it had yet to provide any reason or proof to convince her to decline the view from the top. Her mind would soon be validated as the pressing silence she endured for the last 20 minutes or so began to leave. A mysterious sound began to emanate from above, a soft and rhythmic humming seeming

to come from the tower. Her mind was still aware, but the sound was so bizarre that curiosity replaced her anxiety. At first, the sound gave her the brief impression that it could have been the hooting of an owl, but that theory was quickly thrown out the closer she reached the top. The low humming began to reveal itself as the melancholy sounds of sobbing. Someone was here, out in the middle of nowhere, standing in this tower, and they were sobbing. Something was not right. Kira now stood two flights of stairs away from reaching the top, but that was no longer. longer appealing. Her breathing began to get heavy, as she was now concerned about alerting whoever this disturbed person was to her presence. Thankfully, the winds at this height gave her

a slight cushion as they covered most of the sounds. Kira glanced at the stairs and noticed more stains smeared across the walkway. However, these were far fresher. Some of the stains still dripped a thick, dark liquid, indicating that something was probably dragged up here. After seeing the stains, Kira gasped. Once she did, the sobbing from above suddenly stopped. The wind had betrayed her as it now held its gust and silence once again filled the air. She stepped backward, hoping that whoever was above was oblivious to her presence. Motion could be heard from above, and Kira now knew it was time to get out of there. She ran down the stairs as quickly as her body would allow.

She didn't bother with sound at this point, as speed was her main concern. An ear-piercing scream came from above, sending chills down her spine. Had she not already been moving, she would have most likely been petrified in place. She quickly reached the bottom of the stairs and knew better than to look back. She knew if she did, she would see something she wouldn't like. Kira struggled to find the old trail back to her camp, but fate was again on her side. She eventually found it. A quick glance behind her, while a good portion down the trail, confirmed that she was not being followed.

A sigh of relief began to wash over her. She began to calm down as she got closer to her camp. Before she reached her camp, she saw a peculiar sight. Standing in the middle of the trail ahead of her was a park ranger mounted on an old horse. He wore a uniform in badge, including the iconic hat. He appeared to be old and unaware of her presence. She caught him off guard as she said hello while approaching. Whoa, what are you doing out here? he said, legitimately surprised.

Sorry, I'm just out for a hike, she said. His old crusty gaze peered over her in a disapproving way. You shouldn't be out here. You need to stay on the posted trail so you don't get lost. Kira nodded. Okay, I can do that, she said politely. I ought to write you a ticket, but I don't have a pen. Next time, you won't be so lucky.

Kira nodded. Oh, by the way, there's someone crying in the fire tower at the end of the trail, Kira mentioned as she passed the ranger on the trail. The ranger had a bizarre look on his face. You've been to the fire tower? He said, legitimately confused. She stopped. I didn't go inside, but I could hear someone crying from outside. The ranger was silent as he clearly contemplated this new information.

All right. Well, no one's supposed to be. to be out there, but I'll go take a quick look. Kira noticed that the ranger had a rifle tucked into his saddle as well as a pistol holstered at his hip. The two went separate ways, and Kira was slightly frustrated. She made her way back to camp and could hear the noise again of the other joyful campers. The atmosphere had shifted again, but this time for the positive. The warm sun soon began to set, as brilliant oranges and pinks filled the sky.

Kira debated moving her camp closer to the others, but felt it would be too much work, especially as it was getting dark. Nighttime eventually came, and her strange encounter in the woods faded from her mind. She got a small fire going and began eating the food she had brought as she relaxed under the stars. Kira called it an early night and put out her fire, making sure to get rid of any trash and food so that critters wouldn't get into them. her hike had taken its toll on her, and she drifted off quickly into her sleeping bag. As soft and sweet as her dreams were, they didn't last long.

Kira was awoken several hours later by the sound of something heavy moving outside her tent. It jolted her awake. Something large could be heard moving outside, and she slowly began to panic at her newfound situation. However, it didn't take her long to recognize the familiar sounds. As she poked her head out from the tent, she shined her light on the familiar horse she had seen earlier that day. The horse was walking with a limp, and its rider, the grouchy old ranger, was nowhere to be seen. She got out of the tent and went to inspect the large animal, seeing that both the horse and the saddle had several scratches on them. The horse was slightly shaking, but enjoyed her embrace.

What happened to you? she said as she gently rubbed the horse. Surprisingly enough, the saddle still had its rifle on it. She racked her mind for what could have possibly happened, but was unsure. Maybe a bear attack, or even a cougar could have done this. The horse then began to walk away, back out onto the trail leading back to the fire tower. She couldn't just let the horse go, not after what she had seen. The horse then stopped and waited as she slowly began to follow behind it with her flashlight. She realized that the horse was leading her somewhere, most likely to the scene of the

incident. After seeing what the horse was doing, she grabbed the rifle from the saddle and continued to follow. Her light shook as they walked side by side, unsure of what they were about to see. The old trail was much different at night. Darkness seemed to fill all parts of the path, except for the small area where the flashlight shined. The only thing that was the same was that eerie silence. Shadows cast by branches and tree limbs gave off terrible portraits of potential monsters lurking in the woods. Kira tried her best to stay focused and not be so jumpy. After a long walk deeper into the woods, the horse finally stopped.

Kira shined her light around, hoping for anything to explain what was going on, but was only left with more questions. Her light eventually landed briefly on a figure lying face down on the ground. The familiar uniform revealed to her ahead of time who it most likely was. She walked over quietly and took the rifle off her shirt. shoulder. Her light revealed small portions of blood and torn clothing laying around the lifeless body. She bent down and nudged it softly to find that it was firm and cold. She turned it over to confirm that it was indeed the old ranger from before. His torso had several scratches running

across it, but the bizarre thing about it was his face. A look of horror still held on his face, as his mouth hung open, his jaw broken, and making his expression, even more extreme. Red stains smeared across his beard and neck as more scratches could be found. It was his eyes that startled Kira. Instead of his eyes having pupils or even being removed altogether, his eyes were even more terrifying. A milky white color seemed to fill the entire eyeball with no traces of color. Kira gasped in horror as something inexplicable had clearly occurred here. She tried to move his body, but he was far too heavy. Kira quickly turned back to the horse.

I can't move him. We need more help, she whispered to the horse. Kira put the rifle on her back and tried to pull the horse along, but it wouldn't budge. The horse was loyal to its owner, even though he had clearly passed. She quickly made her way back to her tent where she tried calling the police. Of course, she couldn't get a connection in the woods, so she had to quickly make her way out to the parking lot. Once she called the police, they gave her an estimate of when she could expect the two officers. officers to arrive. Kira waited in her car for 45 minutes before they showed up. It was about

2 o'clock in the morning. The police arrived with their lights on, but no siren. Kira met them, but made sure to leave the ranger's rifle in the car. I'm the one that called about the body, she said frantically as she approached the two officers. Let's try to calm our voices down. We don't want to alarm the other campers, one officer said in a hushed tone. I should also mentioned that I found his rifle out in the woods. I grabbed it to make sure no one else did anything stupid with it. She pointed to her car. The second officer peered inside. I'm going to grab this as evidence, he said, but instead of putting the rifle in the police cruiser, he slung it on his shoulder. Okay, show us where the body is. Kira led the two officers out into the woods. They found the

small trail and followed it while doing their best to be quiet. All three of them had flashlight. and shine them in different directions as they quietly ventured to the scene. Once they arrived where Kira had left the body, a shocking discovery was made. The horse, which had been determined to stay there, was still there but was no longer in one piece. Its body was absolutely destroyed, and aside from its head, no other part was recognizable. The body of the ranger, however, was no longer there. This is where the body was, Kira whispered. Both officers were silent as they scanned the woods around them.

One of the officers then shushed Kira as they listened intently. The same stillness of the forest hung quietly, but a familiar sound could be heard down the trail, the sound of crying. The two officers then looked at one another and proceeded to go towards the noise. Wait, Kira whispered, something's not right about this. The second officer removed the rifle from. his shoulder. It's clear that someone's under stress, and we need to look into this. Kira then followed them, but made sure to stay behind, just on the off chance that something bad

would happen. The three eventually reached the source of the sound, and to everyone's surprise, just sitting off the main trail was a tall man. He was slightly hunched over and facing a tree. His forearms were covered in a dark liquid, but that wasn't what concerned them. The tall figure was bald and completely naked. His lanky arms looked brittle, with hands and feet that were too large. Sir, is everything okay? The first officer said while slowly drawing his pistol. The figure then stopped crying as they all stood there in silence, not responding.

Tension began to build as both officers slowly got closer to the mysterious figure. Sir, I'm going to need you to turn around, the officer said again. No response. Kira had backed up at this point. Before both officers could issue a final warning, the figure slowly turned to reveal a horrifying face. Blood ran from its teeth-filled mouth, and milky white eyes stared at the officers. The creature had no exterior nose, just a hole in its head. The officers were stunned as the creature sprinted off into the woods at an alarming speed.

They had clearly come across something that they didn't have a rational explanation for. The three silently agreed that the best option was to get out of their quickest. their pace was quickened by the thought of that thing returning. Once back at the main campgrounds, both officers quickly got in their cruisers while alerting no one about the situation. Whatever it was that we saw out there, it's beyond our ability to assist, the second officer said before driving off. Kira sat in the dark parking lot as the taillight slowly faded off into the distance.

I have spent the last hour Googling the name of my hometown. Nothing is there. All the local schools and restaurants are gone. Even my social media is messed up. I can't find any of my friends online. I can't find anybody. I'm actually kind of freaking out about it. Has anybody ever experienced anything like this before?

Don't believe me? Try it yourself. Fallaten City High. Gone. Fallaten Middle. Gone. Fallaten Elementary School. Gone.

Fallaten City College. Gone. That preschool behind the top of it. higher place and next to that McDonald's where my mom took us growing up. You get the idea. All gone. Thousands of people. Dozens of places. I can't find information for anybody. It's like we disappeared. I can't even reach the cops. I wish that were the only problem. My family and I woke up this morning to a total blackout. Every single house on the block lost power. that does tend to happen out here in the valley, often enough that my older brother Mark rigged his computer to get a connection via satellite.

The two of us are currently crouched beside the generator, desperately trying to get a handle on the past few hours. My parents are panicking. They won't say anything. They won't say why. But we have our suspicions. I saw something in the woods last night. Right before the power went out, when it was still dark outside, Mark, woke me up and pulled me over to his bedside window. He pointed frantically into the trees behind

our house. It was raining. The mist made it difficult for my eyes to adjust. But after a moment, something big, we only agree on something big, darted toward the neighbor's back porch. A thick branch fell in its wake. Then somebody screamed. My parents rushed into the room right at that moment. I guess they heard the commotion and freaked. Mom beckoned for us to get away from the window. I gave in right away, because my parents can be scary when we don't listen. But Mark lingered there a little while longer. I didn't see what he saw.

Mark whispered that he saw somebody running. He said it looked like they were running away from something. My father turned off the lights, I found that odd, and pushed my brother aside. He squinted out the window in silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he concluded nothing was there. just wind in the trees. Then the power went out. My parents have been acting very weird ever since.

During the day, my mom tried to keep us in the kitchen. She made breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the fireplace. She even broke out a board game in the afternoon, and we played for a couple of hours. She kept asking about schoolwork, football, baseball, or anything but the odd situation we were in. We tried to change the subject, tried to ask her what was happening outside,

but it was no use. She ignored our questions. My father had a wild look in his eyes. Mark and I can't recall anything like it. He kept rushing to check the window every few minutes. Then he would sit down to check his cell phone. Then back to the window. Then back to his phone. Like clockwork. Each rotation left him more agitated than the last. The cable didn't work. The internet had been spotty. There was really nothing to do but read a book or play a game. Mark asked to go for a walk before dinner. I thought Mom might pop the temple out of her forehead. Nobody goes outside, she snapped. There could be live wires on the ground. Mark snorted. Watch your attitude, she barked, and keep the windows closed. I asked why, and she just stared

at me with these deadly fearful eyes that made me really uncomfortable. She looked like she wanted to tell me something. But my father answered instead, Nobody goes outside. I returned to my book, book without argument. I found one of my mom's old Stephen King collections and stumbled onto a story about rats in a basement bigger than a man. Time moved a little faster while I read. The walls of my house started to evaporate. It didn't take long for my imagination to disappear down the stairwell in the story, plunging further into the darkness with each step, listening to untold things move around me perilously through the blackness. Someone knocked on the door around 10 p.m. After an entire day of endless boredom. I thought this might be salvation. Thank God. Maybe a maintenance worker.

Maybe a neighbor. Maybe my friend from down the block finally convinced his mother to traverse the minefield of imaginary live wire. I got up from my chair to answer the door. My father sprinted across the room to block me. I don't think I had ever seen him run before. He put his hand over my mouth. I tried to protest. He squeezed my arm. He didn't look angry. He looked scared. His eyes were on fire. It grew quiet outside, like someone was listening. One finger over his lips told me to shut up.

I looked over to my mom and saw her doing the same thing to my brother. He looked like he wanted to cry. The knocking resumed. The pace was pleasant at first. Your typical, formal, but friendly rat tap tap, tap. Then a pause. Then rat tap tap. I was confused.

Why were they scared? Why would a burglar knock? I thought that this could be someone who could tell us what was going on, and it annoyed me that my parents were paranoid, so I got the idea to try saying something anyway. Not my best thought. He... My father grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up against the wall.

His sweaty palm slipped against my mouth. He raised one finger to his lips and held it there. The knocking continued. My brother whimpered in the corner. The door hinges whined from the pressure of the knocks. My father reached into his pocket with the hand that was formerly placed around my neck. I knew he had a knife in there. The knocking continued.

And just as soon as it started, the knocking stopped. The house got quiet again. My father let go of me. It's been hours since the knocker left. My parents still won't talk to us. My mom is sleeping on the couch. My dad is sitting in front of the door with a gun across his lap. Can someone please tell us what's happening in Falaton City?

I still can't find anything online. We are available through message and comment as long as our connection holds. I don't think I'll sleep much tonight. It's too quiet. Do you know what happens when you search online for Falaton City now? This post comes up. I'm not quite sure how to describe that feeling. We are a community of hundreds, if not things.

thousands of people, each with countless stories and worries of our own. You are only hearing one of them now. I cannot understand how our digital footprint could disappear overnight, but here we are, day two in a missing city. I didn't get much sleep last night. Mark spent most of it glued to our bedroom window. He woke me and called me over every now and again. Sometimes he saw flashes of light in the distance. Sometimes he saw movement in the trees. Mostly we saw fire. fog. Thick blankets of it descended on our house like a comforter. It also never stopped raining. Big gusts of wind thumped the house hard enough to make us jump. But the most uncomfortable parts of the previous night were the periods of complete and total silence. Something about that quiet can

really make you crazy. In any given suburb, there are a million background noises at once, even in a storm, even at night. Birds should be chirping, insects should be buzzing, car engines or motorcycles or air conditioners should all be gently humming in unison, but we didn't hear any of it, not a single sound but our own. I couldn't stop thinking about the neighborhood dogs. Shouldn't they be barking? There was one in particular, a yappy little thing named Sazar, which never passed up a good opportunity to wake you up in favor of a scrambling squirrel or rabbit. Did our neighbors have time to get them inside? Did something else happen to them? What happened to Cesar?

Mark woke me up for the final time around five. I tried and failed to shrug him off. I heard something in the street, he whispered. Let's go. I asked him what he heard. Clicking, he answered. He got up and walked towards the living room without another word. I didn't want to go.

I was freaked out enough. I didn't and still don't need to add another messed up layer to this situation. Blissful ignorance is sometimes the best approach. but I got a gut feeling that this wasn't something that should be missed, and I didn't want Mark to be there alone for it, so I followed him. The hallway that leads to the living room passes by my parents' bedroom. We could hear my mother snoring softly on the other side. A baseball bat was propped up by her nightstand.

Her cell phone was at the ready right beside it. We tiptoed past the creaking wood floor and arrived at the entrance to the kitchen. The clicking became clearer by that point. Mark pointed over to an hour. alcove by the couch. I followed him to the corner. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. My father was sleeping with the gun in his hand. There was a window behind him that looked out into our entire living room. Staring through the other side was a giant black eyeball. We froze. The eye darted back and forth across the room. We were in plain sight, just standing there in the

kitchen like a couple of idiots. But for some reason, the eye didn't seem to notice us. It passed by a of times to focus on the toaster or something else. My father must have subconsciously read the tension in the air. He stirred and moved to roll over. When he did, thankfully, we locked eyes. I put one finger to my lips, a sober understanding dawned on his face. He took the safety off his gun. The eye responded to the movement of the gun, and in one swift jolt, disappeared from behind the window, leaving a wake of leaves and scattered footsteps behind it. The air left my lung. Something big ascended the wood steps to our porch. My dad turned to aim the gun.

The knocking continued. This time we didn't need anyone to tell us. We all stayed quiet. We sat in still silence for the better part of the early morning. My mother awoke some hours later and got prepared to make breakfast, and only then did it feel safe enough to move around the house. Nobody told her what happened. I didn't think we needed to.

My father certainly wasn't going to. I got the feeling from the look on his face that he would prefer not to talk at all for as long as he could. Mark returned to his spot by the window. Dad disappeared downstairs to get another box of ammo for his gun. I helped Mom cook over the fire, and we all went about our tasks in complete and total silence. Nobody tried to fake conversation anymore. There wasn't any point in arguing about what was out there. We had enough food.

We had enough water. Nobody was going anywhere. A knock came at the door just after noon. Each of us instantly stopped what we were doing. A sigh of relief echoed through the room when the familiar voice of our neighbor, Mr. Hallow, followed. He was looking for us. The door pounded harder.

No time to explain, please, he shouted. Can you let us in? My father walked in and stood awkwardly between my mother and the door. I could tell that he would prefer to ignore it, but she would never let him live it down, the true married man's dilemma. Please, folks, if you're in there, open up, we don't have a lot of time, he said. Mark shook his head.

Please, he begged. Gene is hurt. My mom bit her nails. Dad gave in and reluctantly looked through the peephole. Satisfied with his view of the other side, he slid the pistol into his back pocket, unlatched the lock, and opened the door. Thank you, he said. Mr. Hallow is a big burly guy.

He took my father into his arms and slapped his back so hard the sound echoed down the hall. He moved over to chase my mother down for a kiss on the cheek as his wife and daughter trailed meekly behind. Thank you, he bellowed. Thank you, thank you. We didn't know if we'd see anybody else. My dad nodded awkwardly. My mom stepped up and hugged Mrs. Hallow tight. A quiet, pitiful moan escaped her lips as she did.

The two of them were usually thick as thieves. My neighbor was a nice lady, the type that usually never shuts up, but now she couldn't get a word out. A thin line of blood trickled behind her foot. It didn't take long to notice the source. Her slacks were cut from the ankle to the knee. My dad slammed the door. Come on, Jeannie, my mother cooed.

Let's get you cleaned up. The two of them walked hand in hand to the kitchen. Mr. Hallow sat down on our couch and wiped the sweat from his forehead. and T-shirt. His daughter Alice perched herself neatly on the arm beside him. Like I said, he said while catching his breath. Lucky we found somebody. My father nodded again. Did you see it? Mark asked. Whatever's out there I mean. Mr. Hallow stared back at him. He took a second before he spoke, like he wanted to pick his words, which didn't quite fit for a guy like him. One of them got in the house, he said definitively. An open window, downsteading.

stairs, we, we trapped it in the basement. My father held up his hand. Didn't feel safe staying there though, he continued. My father interrupted. Enough, he whispered. Take a break, Mike. Let's talk. Mr. Hallow nodded in bewilderment. He got up and shuffled after my father towards the dining room, leaving Mark and I uncomfortably with Alice. Alice Hallow is around my age. She's short. with dark hair and dark eyes. She has this awkwardly adorable round head that she covers up with a bow or pin or some other new accessory every other day. I've had a crush on her since grade school. I know that's probably not relevant, but I just want to point out what may later become obvious. Mark elbowed me in the ribs. I ignored it. So did you see anything? I asked. Like, did you see anybody

out there? She paused and then shook her head. Well, what does it look like outside? side, Mark asked. Normal, quiet, she answered. And you really didn't see anything? I asked again. When it started, I mean. She looked at me and shook her head, paused, then relented. We were all inside sleeping like you probably were.

It was late, she started. Or early. I don't know. My dad was upstairs. I was upstairs. My mom doesn't sleep much so she was doing some laundry in the basement. She continued. She hesitated.

I don't know what woke me up first, her screaming or the power going out. They both seemed to happen at the same time. My dad started shouting her name, you know, genie, genie, and my mom was just wailing from the basement. We both got to the kitchen, and we could see her running up the steps. She was screaming at my dad, you know, close the door, close the door. But my dad couldn't stop looking at whatever was behind her, he just froze, she said. Right, Mark whispered. Can't blame him.

So I reach out and slam the door, just as my mom makes it through, and something wedges itself in the doorway, she said. Holy crap, I murmured. What was it? I don't know, something thick and sharp, like a claw, I guess. It was wet, too. It left a stain. Anyway, I couldn't get the door shut because of it. I was panicking. I kicked my dad in the shin, and he threw his body weight against the frame. The lock. finally clicked and we heard whatever it was fall down the stairs on the other side, she said. She paused. It didn't come up again, she said. My father re-emerged from the dining room some moments after our awkward silence.

Mr. Hallow trailed sheepishly behind. Who's ready to eat? he asked. We ate our fire-cooked meal in relative silence. All four parents made it abundantly clear through menacing stairs that the topic of the crap show outside would not be discussed with children, present. Mark again asked if he could go for a walk. Nobody dignified him with a response. After our dishes were done and disposed of, we retreated into various alcoves of our suddenly cramped three-bedroom. Mark and I went back to our room. Alice set up shop in the office with her mom. My mother retired

to bed early and both dads stood, sat, guard in the living room. The house grew quiet again. The wind and rain finally seemed to slow down. My Stephen King novella kept me company. I couldn't help but empathize with the main character. Somewhere between tales of rats and armor, bat rats, and albino rats who never saw the sun, sleep came easily and comfortably under my familiar warm sheets. I woke up to a rude shaking. Alice was standing over me.

She didn't say anything. I guess she didn't have to. Mark and I rubbed the last rube. remaining ounce of sleep out of our eyes and followed her wordlessly into the office. Two cots were set up in the room. One looked disheveled. The other was still made. Alice pointed to the open window. Her mother was gone. My hometown is dying, and I don't want to die with it. I know it sounds ridiculous to be lamenting on an internet forum while the world is melting around me. At the moment, it definitely feels ridiculous. But you have to understand,

If we don't survive, which we almost certainly won't, this story will be my town's last living record. That's important to me. That's important to them. I have to let someone know what happened here, even if it's only you. The truth is obvious now. We are being exterminated. This town and its people are being erased. Fallaton City is all but wiped from the collective subconscious already. All that's remaining are the survivors, the creatures, and this story. I'll keep it going as long as they let me. I don't know why this is happening. I don't particularly care.

Not anymore. I just want to get out of here. This will be my last post from inside my childhood home, the only home I've ever known. My brother and I have decided that we won't die here. Mark packed a couple of essentials in our school backpack. The only thing that's remaining is this laptop in a frank conversation with my parents. I know they're scared.

We're all scared. But we have to do something. Mrs. Hallow didn't come back last night. Alice only stopped crying long enough to tell the adults what she knew, which wasn't much. She fell asleep sometime around midnight. Her mother was in the room at the time. She was acting strange, though, you know? She sobbed. She just kept repeating the same things over and over, and her face was white,

like really, really white. I thought it was just shock over. what happened. The scratch, the attack, you know. I didn't know. Mr. Hallow was inconsolable. Well, we have to find her, Jack, he bellowed. Me, you, and the boys. Alice can come too if she's up to it. We've got weapons, don't we? You've got a small arsenal here, Richardson. They're big, but the damn things are stupid enough. My father just shook his head and pursed his lips. I won't risk my family's safety, Dad insisted. especially not at night.

Mr. Hallow's already red face turned a particular shade of scarlet. He looked like he might blow a gasket. Then he calmed himself and delivered the next bit like a sermon. Fine, he spit. Stay inside and cower. Lie to your kids. Keep him underneath the covers long enough and maybe they won't think there's monsters outside. You raise your family how you want, jerk.

But don't you dare tell me how to take care of mine. Mark looked down at his feet. I avoided my father's glance. Alice, let's go, Mr. Hallow beckoned. Get what you got. Please, my father interrupted. Just wait a minute. We're not staying, Mr. Hallow finished.

You're not convincing me to abandon my wife out there. You know me better than that, Jack. My father reached out and handed him a gun. We have extra. He paused. You'll need it more. Mr. Hallow nodded awkwardly. He took the pistol and stuffed it into an oversized coat pocket before turning and heading for the door.

My mom met him there with some bread and other things stuffed into a plastic bag. There wasn't much, but I think she felt like she had to do something, and she looked like she wanted to say more. But she didn't. Alice reached out and gave me a warm hug. She held on longer than expected. Right around that time I really wish she'd. would stay, not because of my feelings for her, but because a piece of each of us knew what would

happen next. It all just happened so fast. Thank you for the hospitality, she said. Mr. Hallow shook each of our hands one last time. My father opened the door for him. Without another word, the pair descended the front porch into a thick evening fog. Alice turned back to wave, then she turned around and they were gone. My father shut the door. Dad shuffled back to the couch and collapsed. Mom waited at the door like they might change their minds. Mark perched at the window.

He looked over and shook his head at me. Just as an all-too-familiar clicking echoed down the block. I could feel my body instinctively tensing. I had no true preparation for what came next. The sound started quietly, before it seemed to fill the air. Soon it was as if a thousand crickets suddenly invents suddenly invents. fallitan and all decided to chirp at the same time. The ringing, awful cacophony of it was deafening. Somebody outside screamed. I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. The chirping erupted even

louder and seemed to devour their voice. My father held his head in his hands. He motioned for us to block our ears. My mother started to cry. Underneath the clicking, underneath the screams, One word became clearer as it repeated over and over again in the distance. Jeannie, genie, genie, the man screamed. The gun went off soon after. Jeannie, he said. One shot at first, then two, three, four in quick succession. Somebody else started screaming.

I knew that had to be Alice. The pain behind that scream made my stomach turn. The gun went off one more time. The clicking dissipated. The screams stopped. And then it was quiet again. My father got up and quietly led my brother away from the window. Mom fell to a heap in front of the couch. I could feel the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and desperately fought them back. You knew that would happen, I accused my dad. Why did you let her go? He stared back at me. His eyes were cold. Heavy footsteps echoed on the porch. The knocking continued.

My mother couldn't control her sobs. My father dropped onto the floor to silence her. It was no use. The two of them ended up in this awkward wrestling embrace. The pounding outside continued. We killed them, Mark whimpered, and now they're going to kill us. The footsteps left the porch and circled the house. We heard a knocking from my bedroom window.

Then the office window. They're checking for weaknesses, Mark whispered, trying to find a way in. The sound ascended to the roof. Heavy footsteps paced back and forth above us. The chimney kicked back smoke. It's too small, my father murmured. They can't fit. Please God, they can't fit. My mother wrapped her arms around her head. The knocking surrounded us. There had to be a dozen of them, all checking various points of entry, all clicking their disturbingly loud song in unison. Staying quiet would be no use. They had to know we were inside. Mark gestured for me to look through the peephole. I squinted and noticed something in the distance.

It was still dark, but the sun started to rise on the horizon, and with it came a few tentative beads of light which softly illuminated the neighborhood. I realized I was staring at the home of Yappy Cesar. Standing in front of it was something I hoped to never see again. The creature stood at least two to three times the height of a man. It held itself up on two massive legs that bent wildly at the knee, almost like pincers, and behind it were smaller legs that trailed behind sort of uselessly. I thought at the time that they looked like fins.

One of the bent legs reached out to my neighbor's glass. There was a moment's pause. Their window opened. I had to fight my instincts as a woman leaned outside, as if to greet the creature, which gently took her into its hind legs and rambled down the hill. The unrelenting clicking soon gave way to the scurrying of heavy footsteps. A massive weight lifted itself off our roof. The sun came up. We were alone again. We have to leave

today. We can't take no for an answer. We have no choice. These things know we're here. They will get inside tonight. If I don't make it, you know what happened. But please wish me luck. I feel better knowing that some trace of my town will live on this forum. I can hardly describe driving through the complete devastation of my hometown. We passed dozens of familiar homes from over the years. Some of them had bullet holes. Some had bent frames or broken glass. Some had dead bodies in their front yards. And I tried not to look at those too long, because I knew the faces, but it's hard to stop yourself from looking once you start, you know? I saw Alice. I saw Mr. Hallow, I saw neighbors, I saw friends, some of them died running, some died fighting,

but all of them seemed to end up the same way, in scattered bits and pieces, cast like trash, almost decorating their own immaculately made front lawns. My father drove the car. Only one road led us out of town, but it passed through a few hiccups along the way. The supermarket on Grand Street sat behind two apartment complexes that tended to be crowded. The gas station on Maine would allow us to fill up, but they didn't call it Maine for nothing, and more people would almost certainly lead to more problems. All of these issues swirled around my head in unison with the backdrop of my entire town,

carved up like origami right in front of my face. And my dad didn't even seem phased by it. He actually hummed for the first ten minutes of the trip. My dad is not the type to hum. At first I thought it might be a nervous thing, but then my mother started to join him. Guys? I called out. Mark glued himself to the car window. He wouldn't look at me, not even a shared glance of misery. I knew from his reaction that something bad was about to happen. I guess I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

Dad, I said. My father slowed down around the grocery store. He pulled into the lot unceremoniously, as if it were any other Tuesday, while the corpses of our neighbors lined the streets among us, clearly baking in the heat of the rising sun. I actually thought we hit one of them. What are we doing? I asked. Nobody answered me. Hello? I tried again. My father parked the car. He leaned over to give my mom a peck on the forehead. She nodded and smiled back. After a moment of silence, he gingerly unclipped the seatbelt and moved to get out. Nobody bothered to stop him. Dad? I shouted, wait, are you serious? I'm serious, you can't go out there. He smiled at me one last time, looking back.

I like to think there was still some small part of my dad in that smile. He looked like a weight had just been lifted from his shoulders, like he got us this far, like his job was done. I didn't understand it then. I do now. I only saw the scratch when he got up, right above the belt, hip to hip. His shirt had always been tucked. My mother took a deep breath. Mom? I begged. Mom, no, no, no, please. She looked back at me and grasped my hand. She was cold to the touch. Mark whimpered something small. I knew then that he knew all along. It happened the first night, he whispered. They can't fight it anymore, Maddie. It won't let them. The car door opened. Mom, you can't go out there, I said. She pulled her hand away. Mom, please, I said.

It's okay, honey, she murmured dreamily. Okay, honey, okay, honey. She got out of the car and sprinted after my father. I never saw my mother sprint before. She looked so strange doing it. I watched the two of them go towards the store, hand in hand. In a moment they were there, and the next they were gone. We have to follow them, I begged, please.

A soft boom sounded from somewhere inside. Okay, he whispered hesitantly. But be ready to run when I said. I say run, deal. A second boom followed. Deal, I muttered. I am the oldest, he insisted. We don't know what we're going to see inside there. You have to listen to me. Shut up and let's go, I said. We hopped out of the car and ran across the empty lot. Rain and heavy wind swooped in with our arrival. Mark slipped and fell into a particularly nasty pool of blood. I raced back to help him. By the time we both made it inside, our parents were gone. We looked at the time. We looked at the

around for a minute. The store seemed to be shelled. Overturned shelves made it difficult to get around. Smeared floors made the entire place stink worse than a slaughterhouse. At the center of the store was a staircase that leads to the basement level. Normally larger items like water jugs are stored down there. We got the distinct feeling that we weren't totally alone, because we could hear some kind of movement in that area, so we moved towards it. Mark found some cover behind a blown-out register. We used it to peek down the staircase. An enormous pit sat below us. We couldn't actually see where it ended. Mark picked up a can and dropped it. Ten to fifteen seconds later it made contact with the bottom. The closer we inch towards the center, the more that

movement seemed rhythmic, almost pulsing like a heartbeat. We heard footsteps. Mark ripped my collar and pulled me back. Approaching the center of the store were a man and woman who both looked familiar to me from different places. That was my first thought. You know, that they must be together without me realizing, and that it really is a small city after all. The couple walked up casually to the edge of the pit. They looked at each other and smiled. Then they jumped, hand in hand, as if expecting to land in a ball pit. The splat came after the boom. The store grew quiet. Something seemed to be slurping, down below. What the hell? Mark whispered. You don't think. It drinks the blood, I said. Suddenly the pulsing grew louder. Horrible scraping ripped somewhere below it. I can't

adequately describe this sound, almost like a giant moth breaking its way out of a cocoon. A familiar rhythm to the din took over. Checking for weaknesses, Mark muttered. Even at birth. The knocking continued. Time to go. Mark. Mark shouted, definitely, I answered. Each of us put in our best track performances to date. The building gave way as if an earthquake were underneath it. We skid it out of the front entrance just as the overhang dipped down to smash the carousel door. My brother got to the car before me. He jumped into the driver's seat and thank God the keys were still in the ignition. He smashed the gas and all but left me with the passenger door popped open. I hopped in

at the last possible moment. The store collapsed behind me. Mark doesn't know crap about driving, and neither do I, but any idiot can hit the gas and steer away from the explosion. We picked up speed while debris rocked the car. Just as we got back on the road, Mark pointed into the rear view, and I wish he didn't. Standing in the wake of the grocery store was a creature three times its size. I didn't look at it twice. We managed to drive to the gas station before nightfall. We found it pretty much untouched. I don't think it anybody else made it that far. We took the mountain road into the next town and drove past sundown. We are safe and sound now in a place called White Valley. The people here are friendly,

but none of them, including the sheriff, can tell me a damn thing about Follaton or what happened to it the past few days. Go figure. I hope more than anything that my post can help drive more survivors out of the woodwork. Please, please message me if you or someone you know lived through the attack on Folleton City. I can't over-stress the importance of that plea. We cannot let our town be forgotten. One day we will go back. I don't care if it's just Mark and me. I know we can find the entrance the same way we found the exit. We don't expect to find anybody alive. That's just hope that's not worth having. But we all have a right to know what is living there instead. Signing off for now, Matt.

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Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. Kayak gets my flight, hotel, and rental car right. so I can tune out travel advice that's just plain wrong. Bro, Skycoin, way better than points. Never fly during a Scorpio full moon. Just tell the manager you'll sue. Instant room upgrade.

Stop taking bad travel advice. Start comparing hundreds of sites with kayak and get your trip right. Kayak, got that right. You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton.

Welcome to your oceanfront room. Just steps from the water. The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. My family moved to rural Pennsylvania when I was four. I was immediately entranced with living in the country. with several acres of woods behind us, and the house seemed huge to me at the time.

However, as a kid, I was always sensitive to spiritual energy, and there were definitely some creepy things going on in that house. My parents noticed that I stayed with our dog, Bambi, a lot. He was a small sheepdog and my adventure buddy when we were out in the woods. In case you're questioning my parents, they trusted me as young as age five to walk alone, as long as I was with my dog, as he was very protective of me. My dad would also give me his cell phone to carry with me in case I needed any help. Up until I was about 15, I spent a lot of time alone by

choice. After school, I'd be home by 3.20. In grade school, I'd eat lunch and immediately take Bambi out into the woods. We'd explore the surrounding forests, fields, meadows, and ponds together. He was always right by my side and seemed attuned to spiritual stuff as well. If I felt something was in the house, he'd bark at it or whine, or I'd watch him follow it around. Usually he picked up on the presence of something at the same time I would. From the backyard to the left, there's a small strip of trees. In the fall and winter, when the branches are bare, you can see the field next door, which is about 300 yards from my house. There's a big shed up there, in a kind of runway where my neighbor would fly his biplanes off of. What's important to the story

is that I have no neighbors for a mile in every direction. It's pretty rare to see any kind of people on the surrounding properties, unless it's my neighbors hanging the fields in the summer. One day in early fall, I had been tromping through the woods with Bambi for several hours. I let him run off the leash most of the time, but he would run only about 20 feet ahead and keep turning around to check that I was still there. If I lost sight of him, he'd retrace his steps and find me again. That day, I got caught up whittling something, so Bambi ran off for a little bit, and I suddenly realized that I was alone. Suddenly there was a lot of crashing deeper into the woods, and I heard Bambi's alarm bark, and a lot of yelping and then some screeching. Raccoons and

gophers make really scary distress sounds, so I figured that that's what it was. I called for Bambi, and he popped out of some brush covered in pickers. Since I was spooked, I ran back home with him. Right as I got to the back door, I stopped to catch my breath, and Bambi and I were just standing there when I spotted something standing on the edge of the runway. It ran along the higher end of the field, and then there was a steep drop off the edge of the hill at the very end of it. They didn't appear to be wearing anything distinctive, but even in the dusk, I could still see that

they appeared completely black, or everything about the dark. about them was very shadowy and dark. This is the part that gives me shivers now. They were standing facing off of the runway, and then I saw them hunched over, then slowly raised their head and yell Bambi in the same high-pitched voice I used to call him. They had the same vocal inflection as me too, but it sounded like they were really trying hard to sound like me. Next to me, Bambi tucked his tail under, lowered his head, and growled softly. They called again, but this time it sounded like they were losing their voice, as if they'd been calling for a while. In my eight-year-old logic, I assumed that someone was trying to steal my dog,

but why would they stand in the middle of the field and be obvious about it? When I told my parents about that night, they just dismissed the story. The next day, I went to my cousin's house two miles up the road, and my uncle told me about an animal he saw the night before that he was trying to identify. He said it looked like an emaciated cow, sprinting across the bridge over the creek, which is about 300 yards from the runway. And also, since then, anyone who's been at my house has always been uneasy around the creek and the plainshed runway, whether or not they're interested at all in the paranormal.

I know a lot of deaths have happened in nature, but I've also found several goats ripped up in the field. The nearest house with any amount of goats or farm animals is nearly four miles away, and a lot of unexplained things have happened there. Spring just slid into your DMs. Grab that boho look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling.

Ross, work your magic.