Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary Stories Told In The Rain | Scary Forest Encounters, Wilderness, Woods

Episode Date: April 14, 2023

These are 3 Scary Stories Told In The Rain | Scary Forest Encounters, Wilderness, Woods Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Dr. Squatch -$10 OFF! Story Credits: ►https://www.reddit.com/user/theMethuselahian/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/YuaxzqOnXbox/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Michael_Whitehouse/ Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #rain #forest 💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

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 a 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 desert scape 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 she was. 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 and the carved mural above of two anglers fly fishing on a river were 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. Purious, 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 gawked 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 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 of 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 Earl Stanley Gardner

novel from Uncle Vern's office. Not sure how far into I reached before I passed out there on the couch in 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 than 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 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 a while. 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 confirming 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 Heli, 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. I then hold 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.

Entranced 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 water-locked 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 steer 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 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

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 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, seeing what I saw, and the first grey 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 at 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 was, 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 hazardous 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 to run. 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 pane 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 Vern'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 back 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 in sheer panicked frustration, I resolved to head into town to see if anyone had seen Ellie recently. Hazardous road conditions be damned. Deciding Uncle Vern'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. Glancing 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 smell. 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 and, 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 chinty 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 proved 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 recognize 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. Impossibly 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 ear 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 life. legs when the landline began ringing. Stardled 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 and 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 hint, 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 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 as 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 a love. 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 two 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 threw the door shut. Between the swiftly closing gap, the shadow was seen rushing silently down the hall after me. Locke 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 and 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 a time.

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.

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 defunct 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 property. I can't do that. I can't go back. What if it's still waiting for me in those woods? To your family, you're lucky to make it out alive. Streaming on Peacock. These men are going to come after me. Taking them out. It's my only chance. Put a bullet in her head. From the co-creator of Ozark. Looks like a family was running drugs. Execution's style killing it's rare for the keys. And it leads on who they might have been running for. The cartel killed my family. I'm going to kill them.

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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. 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. 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 in 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, please. 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 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. 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. 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 poltesy 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. Aberfoil 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 plan 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 Aberfoil, and parked in a small makeshift parking lot inside the forest. 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 and 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 said, 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. 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 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 Jenna 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 situation. 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 honked 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 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 son. 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 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. Pimpsons sprayed across me, and he staggered back onto the trail. I will never forget the piercing.

Inhuman scream, 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 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. The 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. Jenner 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 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 have 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