Growing up in rural Utah, my childhood was a Symphony of
outdoor adventures. I spent countless hours
exploring the dense forests and winding canyons that enveloped
my family's vast property. By the time I turned 13, those
woods were as familiar to me as the back of my hand, and that
sense of intimacy with the wilderness brought both freedom
and recklessness into my life. Looking back, I realize how
naive I was, how I believe that nothing could harm me in those
untouched woods. Oh, how wrong I was.
It all began during the summer before my 8th grade year.
School was out and I had an abundance of unsupervised free
time while my parents were at work.
I grew weary of just hanging around the house all day and so
I decided to embark on a new adventure.
My grandparents house was about a mile and a half away, nestled
deep within the woods. I thought it would be a great
change of scenery and an opportunity to raid their pantry
for snacks. The first few hikes to my
grandparents house were uneventful, their home back
right up to the tree line so I would emerge from the dense
forest directly into their backyard.
My grandmother always greeted me with enthusiasm, eager to
prepare an after school snack while I lounged in front of the
TV. It quickly became a comforting
routine for those initial weeks of summer.
The hike there and back was peaceful and serene, just me and
the beauty of nature. But then, in late June, things
began to feel off. The usual sounds of chirping
birds and chattering squirrels had grown silent, and the woods
seem to take on a darker, foreboding aura.
I shrugged it off, attributing it to the approaching summer
storm clouds. I should have paid more
attention to the warning signs. About halfway to my grandparents
house, the first raindrops began to fall and I hastily pulled up
my hood to shield myself from the impending deluge.
As I trudged on, crackling Thunder suddenly erupted much
closer than I had expected. The wind picked up violently
whipping the branches around. It was still mid afternoon, yet
the sky had transformed into an ominous shade of Gray green.
Determined to reach shelter before the storm fully unleashed
its fury. I quicken my pace, but the
heavens opened up with a vengeance and the rain came down
in blinding sheets. The ground turned to mud beneath
my feet and rainwater dripped down my neck, chilling me to the
bone. Despite my discomfort, I pressed
onward toward the warm, dry haven of my grandparents home.
Out of nowhere, an agonizing screech Pierce the air unlike
anything I had ever heard from local wildlife.
I froze, my heart pounding as I desperately scanned the rain
soaked surroundings. Through the downpour and the
shadows between the trees, a flickering light materialized,
swaying erratically as though carried by someone walking.
Had my grandfather come looking for me?
I called out, but my voice was swallowed by the cacophony of
Thunder and heavy rain. The light continued to advance,
drawing nearer. It was too short to be my tall
grandfather holding a Lantern, and panic surged within me.
The screech sounded again, closer this time.
Without thinking, I turned and sprinted blindly through the
woods in the opposite direction. I didn't care that I was heading
deeper into unfamiliar territory.
All I cared about was escaping that unearthly presence as I
splashed through the mud and fought my way through thorny
brush. My clothes snagged on branches
and I tasted mud and blood in my mouth.
Lightning cracked ominously, striking a nearby tree, the
deafening sound ringing in my ears as the acrid scent of smoke
filled my nose. Still, I pressed on through the
darkness, my feet slipping out from under me.
I crashed to the ground, mud caked and battered, but the
thing was getting closer. It's eerie, flickering light
weave between the trees. I scrambled to my feet and took
off again, my legs aching and my head throbbing.
I gasped for breath as I ran, unable to see clearly in the
inky blackness. Just when I thought my legs
would give out, I stumbled upon a rocky clearing.
An abandoned miner's shack stood against the far wall, and I
hurled myself at the weathered wooden door just as the chilling
screech echoed from the tree line.
With trembling hands, I forced the warped door shut behind me,
plunging the shack into complete darkness.
I sank down against the wall, shaking uncontrollably, my heart
pounding so loudly it drowned out the rain.
The thing outside continued to wail, emitting a bone chilling
scream filled with anger and anguish.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, I must have passed out on the dirt
floor when I woke up. It was pitch black inside the
shack and the storms fury had diminished to a steady drizzle.
The shack itself stood silent and still.
Whatever had been out there seemed to have moved on.
Blurry and disoriented, I cautiously made my way outside.
The moon peeked through the clouds, casting faint, ethereal
light upon the woods. With my arms outstretched, I
walked slowly through the trees, navigating carefully in the dim
illumination. I wandered through the night,
terrified that the sinister presence might still be lurking
in the shadows, waiting for me. It was a long and harrowing
journey, but by some miracle I finally emerged from the woods.
As the sun began to rise, I stumbled up to my own back
porch, burst inside, and bolted the door shut behind me.
Collapsing on the floor, I was overcome with relief at being
home. My parents never found out about
my misadventure that day, but the memory continues to haunt
me, especially when I find myself alone at home for
extended periods. Deep down, I know that whatever
sinister presence I encountered out there is still lurking in
those forests, waiting patiently.
I've never ventured beyond my backyard since that day.
Some nights, as I lie in bed, I still hear haunting screeches
echoing through the trees, and I pray that it never finds me
again. I was 17 years old when this
happened, and there was a full moon in the night sky, casting
an eerie glow across the dense forest.
I was hiking through the woods with some friends, Tom and
Sarah. At first it was a beautiful
autumn evening, but as the sun was fully consumed by the
horizon, the woods became more sinister and before long a sense
of foreboding settled over us. Seeing my friends obviously
creeped out, I tried to reassure them.
Come on guys, don't be such wimps.
It's just a little darkness and some howling wolves possibly.
What could go wrong, Tom? The more adventurous of us was
the one who initially convinced us to go on this night time
hike, claiming it would be a memorable experience.
But now, as the shadows grew longer in the forest, seem to
close in around us, even I couldn't help but regret my
decision. Sarah, who had been unusually
quiet since we entered the woods, finally said something.
Danny, I'm not so sure about this.
It's way too quiet out here. I've heard stories about strange
things happening in these woods during a full moon, too.
I'd heard the stories as well. Mysterious disappearances of
pets, sightings of strange figures, and silhouettes.
I always thought they were superstitions.
However, as we continue deeper into the woods, a chill crept up
my spine. Relax, Sarah, Tom said, putting
his arm around her. It's just your imagination
playing tricks on you. Besides, Danny's going to
protect us, right? I forced a smile, trying to hide
my unease. Yeah, don't worry, Sarah, I'll
make sure nothing happens to you.
We continued walking in silence, the crunch of leaves beneath our
boots and the occasional hoot of an owl.
The only sounds in the otherwise still night.
The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long, eerie
shadows on the forest floor. I couldn't help but feel like we
weren't alone out there. As we walked, we came across an
old, overgrown trail that we've never seen before.
It was hidden well behind a thick tangle of brambles and
fallen branches. Tom's eyes lit up with
excitement. Hey, check this out, guys, he
said, pointing to the hidden trail.
This could be a shortcut back to the car, let's take it.
Sarah and I exchanged uneasy glances, but we followed Tom as
he began to hack away at the underbrush with a pocket knife.
As we cleared a path, I couldn't shake the feeling we were
walking into something we shouldn't.
The farther we went down the trail, the denser the forest
became. It was like the trees were
closing in around us, and I could no longer see the moon or
the stars through the thick canopy.
The air grew cooler and a strange, musty scent filled our
nostrils. Tom, Are you sure about this?
Sarah asked, her voice trembling.
Tom hesitated for a moment, looking back at us.
We've come this far. We might as well see where it
leads. It's got to lead somewhere,
eventually, right? Reluctantly, we continue down
the trail, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of leaves.
The darkness seemed all consuming, and I felt a growing
sense of unease, like a weight pressing down on my chest.
As we walked, I noticed strange marks on the trees, deep claw
like gouges that looked fresh. I pointed them out to Tom and
Sarah. Probably just bears or
something, Tom said, though he didn't sound convinced himself.
Are there bears around here? Sarah asked, her voice barely
above a whisper. I think there are, but usually
they keep to themselves, I replied, trying to reassure her.
We continued walking, the marks in the trees becoming more
frequent. I couldn't shake the feeling we
were being watched, and I wished we had turned back when we had
the chance. It felt like the forest had
swallowed us whole and I had no idea where we were or how to get
back to the main trail. After what felt like hours, we
finally reached a small clearing.
In the center of the clearing was a dilapidated, long,
abandoned cabin. The roof had partially caved in
and the windows were shattered. It looked like something out of
a thriller or a horror film. Why on earth would anyone build
a cabin way out here? Sarah asked, her voice
trembling. I didn't have an answer for her.
The whole situation had taken on a surreal, nightmarish quality,
and I was beginning to fear that we had made a terrible mistake
by venturing off the main trail. Tom, always the adventurer,
couldn't resist exploring the cabin.
Come on, guys, let's check it out.
Who knows, maybe we'll find something cool inside.
Reluctantly, we followed him into the cabin.
The door creaked open with a deafening noise, and I winced,
praying we didn't disturb someone or something inside.
The interior was empty and silent, save for the wind that
whistled through the broken windows.
The moonlight spilled into the cabin, revealing a layer of dust
and cobwebs that covered everything.
It was clear that no one had been in there in a very long
time. As we moved further inside, I
noticed something strange, a series of odd scratch marks on
the cabin's wooden walls. Guys, look at this, I said,
pointing at the marks. Tom came over and examined them.
Those are definitely not from animals.
They look human. A shiver ran down my spine as
the realization sank in. Someone must have been here
recently, leaving these marks. We need to get out of here now.
As we turn to leave, a low, guttural growl echoed from
outside the cabin. The three of us froze, our
hearts pounding. What was that?
Sarah whispered, her face pale. I don't know, but it didn't
really sound like an animal. I replied, my voice barely above
a whisper. Tom, ever the brave one, move
toward the door, peering outside.
I don't see anything, but we need to go.
Whatever it was, it was too close for comfort.
We made our way back outside, and as we retreated from that
cabin, the growling sound grew louder, more menacing.
I couldn't shake the feeling we were being haunted.
The moon, now high in the sky, bathed the forest in an eerie,
silvery light. My friends looked scared, just
like I felt as we hurried back down the trail.
The growling seemed to be getting closer.
My heart raced. Every rustle in the underbrush
sent a jolt of fear through my body.
I don't think I'd ever been so scared before.
Without warning, a dark shape burst out of the underbrush,
lunging at us. It was a massive creature.
It's firm matted and its eyes glowed with otherworldly
malevolence as I really took in what I was looking at, all I
could think was werewolf. My mind instantly compared it to
similar forms and shapes I'd seen before, and this creature
happened to resemble the werewolves I'd seen in some
movies. Tom shouted run, waking me from
my stupor. We sprinted down the trail as
fast as our legs could carry us. The furry thing was uncannily
fast. Its heavy footsteps and ragged
breathing echoed in our ears. My heart felt like it was going
to burst from my chest as we ran.
The forest was a blur of trees and moonlight.
Even so, I could hear the creature gaining on us.
It's growling, growing louder and more frenzied.
I didn't know how much longer we could keep it up, let alone stay
ahead of it. I turned back one time to look
at it. It looked like someone had put a
wolf's face on a human's body. Indeed, what I'd seen from scary
movies. A werewolf.
No matter how many times I tried to deny it, that's what it
looked like. As we neared the end of the
trail, I risked another glance over my shoulder.
The beast was almost on us. It's yellow eyes locked on mine.
A bizarre feeling came over me, the idea that I was the first to
be targeted. If it did catch up to us, would
I be torn apart first? The creatures snouts, snarled,
revealing far too much drool. I pushed myself beyond my
limits, running faster, adrenaline coursing through my
veins. We burst out of the trail and
back onto the main path, and this time I didn't look back.
I could hear the creatures enraged, howling because for
some reason it had stopped pursuing us, yet it sounded so
angry. I think it knew it couldn't
follow us beyond the boundary of that hidden trail, but for what
reason I can't be sure. We ran all the way back to the
car and suddenly our breathless crying turned into laughter.
I think we were just relieved we had narrowly escaped some
monster that shouldn't even be real.
As we drove away from those woods, I couldn't help but think
about the legends and stories I had dismissed as superstition.
The memory of those glowing yellow eyes would haunt my
dreams for years. We never spoke of that night to
anyone, fearing that no one would believe the story, but the
three of us knew it was a secret we would carry with us to the
grave at last. I've had the urge to share it
somewhere, and at least this way it's anonymous.
I've often wondered about that supposed werewolf.
Why did it attack us? Why couldn't it leave the trail?
Was it by itself? Maybe it was cursed to roam the
woods under the full moon. I hate the idea that it may have
been part of a larger pack. I may never know the answers to
these questions, but I do know one thing for certain.
I'll be avoiding those woods for good, especially on full moon
nights. It was the summer of 2019 and I
had just graduated from college. Eager to do something
adventurous before diving into my new job, I decided to embark
on a solo backpacking trip in the Catskill Mountains for a
week. Growing up in Adera, I
considered myself an experienced hiker and camper, which gave me
confidence. Despite the prospect of being
alone in the wilderness, the first couple of days of my trip
were idyllic. The weather was perfect with
warm, sunny days that weren't too scorching.
Each day I covered around 8 to 10 miles, relishing the
breathtaking scenery. I occasionally encountered
fellow hikers and backpackers, but for the most part I was on
my own. On the third day, a subtle
unease began to creep over me. I noticed that the birds and
wildlife had grown unusually quiet.
The few hikers I encountered appeared anxious and avoided eye
contact, their friendly smiles replaced with worried
expressions. I chalked it up to venturing
deeper into the Backcountry, but a sense of unease lingered.
That night I set up camp beside a babbling Creek.
I built a fire even though the night remained warm, leaving my
tent open to let in the fresh air.
I drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened by what sounded like
footsteps and crunching leaves Outside I lay there straining to
hear any unusual sounds, but apart from the typical night
time forest noises, I couldn't discern anything out of the
ordinary. Still, it took me a long time to
settle back into sleep. The next day, I continued my
hike, ascending out of the valley I had been in.
The terrain became rockier and the trees grew denser.
The feeling of being watched persisted, though I never caught
sight of anyone. I attributed it to nerves from
extended solitude. As dusk descended, I pitched my
tent in a clearing atop a Ridge with commanding views of the
surrounding peaks. I cooked my dinner, cleaned up,
and settled in for the night. The full moon cast eerie shadows
inside my tent, playing tricks on my tired eyes.
Exhausted from a long day of hiking, I eventually drifted
into slumber. Suddenly I jolted awake as my
tent shook violently, it's poles bending and collapsing onto me.
My first thought was a bear attack, but when I emerged from
the tent, there was nothing to be seen.
The tent fabric remained untouched, and the night had
returned to stillness and silence.
I was puzzled and rattled, but managed to reassemble the tent
and tried to return to sleep. Morning came and I packed up
swiftly, eager to leave the exposed Ridge.
Overnight, the warm weather had given way to a chilling breeze.
Dark clouds gathered ominously as I descended and Thunder
rumbled in the distance. I quicken my pace, hoping to
reach the next shelter before the impending storm.
As I neared the shelter, rain began to pour just as it came
into view. I sprinted the last 100 yards,
relieved to have made it in time.
However, my relief was short lived.
Upon taking off my raincoat, I discovered that the shelter had
changed. Hand prints and claw marks
marred the inside walls. Filthy rags littered the floor,
and the fire pit held charred bones, exuding A foul odor of
burnt hair and flesh. Terrified, I backed away from
the shelter, my heart pounding, the wind intensified, howling
through the trees. And then I saw it, a looming,
hulking shadow moving through the woods toward me.
Without any choice, I turned and fled into the raging storm, the
rain pelting my face, Thunder crashing overhead.
I slipped on the muddy trail but kept going, my sweater catching
on branches as I careened wildly downhill.
The entity pursued me relentlessly, closing the gap.
Finally, I burst out of the trees into a rocky clearing just
as lightning struck directly behind me.
The deafening crack reverberated through my body and I froze,
slowly turning around, The woods had returned to a profound
stillness. Raindrops dripped from the
leaves, and there was no sign of the pursuer.
Had I imagined the entire ordeal?
Exhausted and soaked, I stumbled upon a small cave nestled among
the rocks, where I could wait out the storm.
As the wind picked up once more, I squeezed into the farthest
corner, shivering uncontrollably.
Eventually, the rain tapered off and I emerged to assess my
surroundings. Night would soon fall, and I
needed to find a safe place to make camp.
Numb with cold and fear, I stumbled forward, flinching at
every swaying branch and rustling Bush.
As I pass through a dense section of the forest, I felt an
unsettling sensation. Someone or something was
watching me again. My breath quickened and I broke
into a jog. The sun dipped below the Ridge,
casting elongated shadows across the path.
Rounding a corner, I collided with a solid but strangely soft
figure. Recoiling, I looked up,
horrified by the sight of a pale, demonic face with black
empty eyes and rotting fangs protruding from its grotesque
maw. It loomed menacingly over me.
I screamed and turned to run, but gnarled hands gripped my
shoulders and sharp claws dug into my skin.
Feted breath washed over me as the creatures impossibly wide
mouth seemed poised to devour me whole.
Everything went black, and I must have lost consciousness
when I finally came to. I was alone on the dark trail.
If the creature had been real, it was now gone.
Struggling to my feet, I grabbed my gear and made a frantic dash
down the mountain, twigs snapping behind me, my heart
pounding in my chest, I burst out of the trees and saw the
parking area below. I half stumbled, half slid down
the last stretch of the trail and sprinted for my car.
I tossed everything into the back seat, started the engine,
locked the doors and speed down the winding mountain Rd.
Even from inside the car I could hear the chilling screams
echoing off the dark forest. Whomever or whatever those
screams came from, I would never know.
I drove through the night, not stopping until I pulled into my
driveway. I left all my gear in the car
and rushed inside, collapsing on the couch just as the sun began
to rise. To this day, I have no idea what
I encountered out there, but one thing is for certain, I will
never venture into those woods again.
Something malevolent lurks there, waiting for the next
unsuspecting wanderer to brave that trail alone.
This particular story takes me back to a time over 16 years ago
when I was just a teenager growing up in the remote
wilderness. My childhood and teenage years
were defined by my love for camping and spending as much
time as possible outdoors. 2 summers in a row.
I joined a group of like minded individuals whose mission was to
travel the rural back roads and clean up any garbage we
encountered. Most of the time it was a
routine job along the roadside, but occasionally the Park
Rangers would request our help in cleaning up trails and county
roads where people had illegally dumped their trash deep in the
woods. On this particular day, our
group had to split up into different quadrants to cover
more ground efficiently. We were given GPS units,
although their accuracy at that time was far from reliable,
often being off by up to 100 meters.
This inaccuracy didn't bother me much as I harbored dreams of
becoming a trail guide or forest Ranger.
However, some of my companions were uncomfortable with the idea
of venturing too far from the main roads.
This left me with the task of being dropped off at the end of
a Forest Service Rd. where I would have to make my way back
to our designated cleanup area. Each of us was equipped with a
roll of garbage bags and a poke stick to collect trash.
The area I found myself in was notorious for being one of the
larger dump sites. People had discarded old
couches, chairs, and even mattresses, but it seemed that
someone with a flatbed truck had already come through to pick up
the larger items. All that remained were the
smaller pieces like bottles, cans, bags, and papers.
As I began my cleanup, I came across the remnants of something
far darker than discarded furniture.
There, nestled amidst the trash, was a litter of puppies.
While I wasn't equipped with a radio to call for assistance, my
duty was clear. I couldn't leave these poor
creatures behind, so I carefully collected them, placing them in
a bag separate from the pile of other refuse I had already
gathered. My intention was to give these
puppies a proper burial, so I dropped off my backpack of
supplies and my poke stick near the road.
With just the bag in hand, I ventured into the woods, walking
for about 20 minutes until I found a large pine tree that
seemed like a fitting resting place for the pups.
Placing the bag at the base of the tree, I began searching for
a suitable stick or rock to dig a hole.
After breaking a large branch in half and sharpening one end with
my pocket knife, I returned to the tree and began digging.
The process was slow due to the numerous roots in the soil, but
eventually I managed to create a hole about a foot and a half
deep. With great sadness, I laid the
puppies to rest without the bag. As I didn't want to add to the
litter of trash already plaguing the woods, I took a moment to
say a quiet prayer. My heart heavy with sorrow as I
covered the grave with dirt, my eyes welled up with tears.
Witnessing such cruelty and abuse had always been difficult,
but I knew it was my duty to do what I could to provide these
innocent animals with a dignified farewell.
With the grave covered, I placed several pine cones in a rock I
had found on top as a makeshift memorial.
Leaving the site, I began to walk away when I heard a strange
noise, a mixture of a moan and a growl emanating from about 50
feet to my left. I couldn't see the source of the
sound due to the thick foliage and branches that obscured my
view. Frozen in place.
I stopped talking and moved quietly, straining my ears for
any further sounds. It wasn't one of those eerie
moments when the forest falls completely silent, but rather a
subtle change in the soundscape. The birds were still out there,
but their calls seem to have shifted to a different area,
farther from where the sound had originated.
Lost in my distracted state. I had been sitting there for
about 3 minutes when I heard it again.
A small branch falling from a tree.
This time I was sure something was out there.
Slowly I tried to peer through the branches to my left, but my
position beneath the tree made it difficult to see anything
clearly. Without warning, another noise
caught my attention, a low pitched whistle that sent
shivers down my spine. It was then that I decided I had
seen and heard enough. Glancing behind me to ensure my
path was clear, I turned and began to run.
I looked back several times during my frantic retreat, but I
was not pursued and I never saw that mysterious creature again.
To this day, I remain haunted by the memory of that unexplainable
encounter in the woods. I reported what I had seen to
the Ranger in charge that day, but his dismissive explanation
of a mange infested raccoon didn't sit right with me.
The creature's appearance defied all logic, resembling nothing I
had ever seen or read about. Over the years, I've dedicated
time to researching the enigma I encountered that day, but it
remains a mystery. Whenever I'm in the woods, I
find myself constantly looking up, hoping to catch a glimpse of
the creature that defied classification.
Back when I was completing my master's degree, I had to share
an apartment with someone to keep the costs down.
After putting out an ad on Facebook, I received a message
from a guy called Jake. At first I was terrified that
I'd end up living with some psychopath, but the person I
found ended up being my longest and closest friend.
One of the things we immediately bonded over was our mutual love
of long distance hiking. He first mentioned it on the
phone when I asked about his hobbies and interests, and after
that we spent about 1/2 hour sharing experiences and
enthusing over the great outdoors.
We went on our first trip during spring break of 2006 and it was
pure bromance if you catch my drift.
Jake was like a brother from another mother, and although we
both moved elsewhere following the completion of our studies,
we made sure to keep in touch via social media and online
games. On top of that, we headed out on
some long distance hikes together either once or twice a
year. We used to go real hard back
when we still had the knees and ankles for it, and our choices
of destination tended to be extremely remote.
Most of our friends who joined us would blister up their heels
for a few days with us and then say never again on the ride
back. So for the most part, the trips
tended to be just me and him. We both ticked off Baxter State
Park in the Adirondacks while we were living in the Northeast.
Then, after Jake moved down to Virginia, we visited both
Shenandoah and the Great Smoky Mountains.
But as time went on, we started pining for somewhere a little
further afield. That's how we settled on heading
out to the Bighorn Mountains in Wyoming, or more specifically,
the Cloud Peak Wilderness. The Cloud Peak Wilderness is the
centerpiece of a roadless block of land that's almost 200,000
acres in size, making it one of the single largest wilderness
areas in the entirety of North America.
If ever we were going to get the full Lewis and Clark experience,
it was there. So late 1 spring we met up in a
small town called Buffalo before heading out into the mountains.
The Cloud Peak trip happened in 2014 and we were both pretty
experienced outdoorsman by that point, so at first marching off
into the trees just felt like business as usual.
It was only around 24 hours in that we realized we were a day's
walk from the nearest highway, meaning we were almost
completely cut off from civilization.
I've been to some far-flung places before, but there was
something different about being out in Cloud Peak.
Areas like the Appalachian Trail feel wild, but their roads more
traveled, if you will, whereas out in Cloud Peak it felt as
though we were crossing over some dangerous frontier.
In light of that, we remained cautious and careful as we
progressed along our route. But as the days went by and
fatigue started to set in, we began to get more confident and
much more explorative. Jake was carrying an old Colt
45, having obtained the necessary permits to do so, so
we weren't particularly worried about bears or any other variety
of wildlife. What we weren't worried about
was our dwindling water supply. In order to walk the vast
distances that we tended to cover, we kept our water
supplies minimal to maintain mobility.
You could always find a stream or Creek to top up your canteens
mid journey, whereas trying to lug gallons worth of water just
wasn't an option if you wanted to cover any serious ground.
Every other hiking trip we'd had no problem finding water, and
we'd even plan our routes to leapfrog from water source to
water source. But then late April of 2018
turned out to be unlike any other I can remember, and it
completely sent our plans Askew. It was hot, real hot, and as
much as it made for great tanning weather, days upon days
of unseasonably high temperatures meant a lot of our
water sources were too shrunken and stagnant to be safe.
Each one we passed we got more and more desperate until in the
end we just about jumped for joy when we came across a fast
flowing mountain stream. We filled our canteens as much
as possible, but we knew the rest of the hike would be pretty
hellish unless we got some serious rain.
If we wanted to make it out of the wilderness without risking
heat stroke, we needed to be conservative, resourceful, and a
little bit lucky. We managed the first two, The
third, not so much. On day six of a planned nine day
hike, we were once again in dire straits in terms of our water
supplies. You can always tell when things
are getting really bad, when your pee starts to look like
Bacardi dark. And although we really didn't
want to, it was looking like we might have to cut the hike short
to make a beeline to the nearest convenience store, which by that
point was going to be a day and a half's hike.
At least. We pushed on and at one point we
were walking along some barely carved out trail when we decided
to stop for a water break. We sipped and I mean sipped at
our half filled canteens. Then Jake walked off to take a
leak up against a tree. He walked out of sight and then
the next thing I heard was like a high pitched yap or bark, the
kind you hear out of a fox or coyote.
The next thing I hear is Jake saying Jesus Christ as if the
bark had suddenly spooked him. Honestly, I thought the whole
thing was pretty funny, some hardened hiker getting scared by
some furry woodland creature. So I picked myself up and headed
off into the trees to make fun of him.
I found Jake alone and visibly shaken, fastening up his pants
while looking up at the slopes above us.
Given the high pitched noise the animal made, I figured it was
something small and fairly harmless, so the fact that Jake
was so spooked made the site all the more amusing to me.
I asked him what it was that he saw, be it a fox or a coyote or
what have you, and he tells me no, that it wasn't an animal
that made the noise, it was a boy.
A boy that had then scurried off into the trees after scaring him
half to death. After a touch more humiliation
on my part, Jake started wondering aloud what a kid would
be doing out there all alone, and to me the answer was fairly
obvious. The kid wasn't alone.
It couldn't have been. It was probably out here camping
with his family or something, and he just stumbled across some
hiker taking a leak while out playing.
I guess we skipped a few logical steps given how thirsty we were,
because all I could think about was finding their camp so we
could beg for some water if they had kids.
Chances are they'd be good folks willing to share a little water
with us, in which case we'd be all set until the next reliable
natural source. Jake, on the other hand, didn't
seem to think that it was a good idea at all.
I thought he was crazy. We had a golden opportunity to
resupply our water and maybe get a little hot food out of it too.
And there he was, second guessing the whole thing.
When I asked him why he was so nervous, he replied.
And I quote I think there's something wrong with that kid.
I took this to mean that the kid had maybe learning difficulties
or something like that. But I also knew that Jake wasn't
so backward as to be freaked out over something as simple as a
disability. Then when I asked what he meant
by wrong with the kid, he just went quiet before agreeing to go
look for the kids parents. I just figured that he changed
his mind, but his rational brain took over and accepted that we
needed water. I didn't stop to think about
what he'd seen might have actually scared the life out of
him, even if it was just a kid. Jake pointed us in the direction
the kid ran off. Then we trudged up the hill in
the hopes of finding his parents.
After a few minutes of walking, dense forests opened up into a
football field sized clearing and on the other side of it
stood this ancient looking log cabin.
From where we were standing I was pretty sure that I could see
someone little on an old porch swing that was sat out front.
This was great news. Our problems were solved.
At least that's the way I saw it.
Jake was still reluctant to approach them.
He didn't say it, but you could just see it in his face as we
slowly walk towards the cabin. As we got closer, I realized the
person on the porch swing was very old.
Like so old. It didn't look like they ever
really left that swing. They were also, and I don't mean
to sound so judgmental. I know time comes for us all,
the single most facially disadvantaged person I had ever
laid eyes on, and that's putting it as politely as I possibly
can. I figured it was all down to
some kind of medical condition, but when I politely asked if
they had any water to spare, someone emerged from the cabin
and the proverbial penny dropped.
Neither person had a chin to speak of, Both were big, thick
glasses, and both had this completely blank stare that
seemed to bore right into you. The person who walked out of the
cabin was holding a small dog, and although they were short
enough to be mistaken for a kid, they had to be in their late
teens to early 20s. Then, right as we made eye
contact, he barked at me. I think my eyebrows must have
shot up to my hairline as I turned to Jake, who was already
slack jawed and gawping as if to say it's him.
I told you. I remember stammering the
beginning of something and then just stopping when I realized
these people simply weren't going to talk to us.
Not even because they weren't willing to, but because they
just couldn't. Something you also have to
understand is that the barks didn't sound voluntary.
They sounded like ticks, like something he didn't have any
control over. I started to talk to them both
real slow, like you talked to a child or something, telling them
hi there, we need some water. Could you get some water from
your house? We'd be super grateful if you.
The dog the Manchild was holding barked right as I was trying to
talk, and then the manchild himself barked even louder.
It pains me to admit it, but I started to get really nervous
when the Manchild walked back inside the house.
He moved with purpose, like he was going to get something, and
I said a small silent prayer. That thing wouldn't be loaded,
if you get my drift. Me and Jake were both wound up
like springs waiting for him to reappear, but when the door
opened again, it wasn't the barking man child who appeared.
It was someone so strikingly different looking that I was
actually dumbstruck for a second.
It was a girl, a younger girl, probably in her early to mid
teens, and unlike the rest of her family, she acted relatively
normal. But when it came to her looks,
they were beyond striking. She looked like she could have
been a child star or something. She had this jet black hair and
these bright amber eyes, both in stark contrast to the sandy
blonde hair and pale blue eyes of her relatives.
She could also talk. I'll be at an extremely broken
English and made that clear before I could even introduce
myself by asking what you want. Mr. So I was much more receptive
to our request for water and invited us inside to fill up our
canteens from a water tank that they kept in their kitchen, or
at least what would pass for a kitchen.
The inside of the house was filthy with junk and trash
covering almost every available surface, and the water inside
the tank the girl referred to did not look drinkable
whatsoever. We started searching the cabinet
for any kind of bottled water, being more than prepared to pay
well over regular sale price for whatever we could find, but the
little dark haired girl interrupted our search,
embarrassing us in the process. I started to explain that we
were just looking for soda or bottled water, anything to
quench our thirst, but the girl just told us you need to leave.
When we asked why, she explained that her daddy had arrived home
and that he didn't like strangers for a moment.
Jake seemed to find some courage, possibly on account of
how close we were to resupply, so he walked out of the kitchen
and back down the short hallway in the direction of the home's
front door. The next thing I hear is a bark
much similar to the one the man child had emitted, only this one
was much louder and much deeper. I too moved in the direction of
the hallway, my heart rate climbing rapidly as I did so,
but I was cut off by Jake, who had a terrified look on his
face. All he said was run.
A second later he lunged past me in the direction of a screen
covered back door, and after he opened it we went tearing out
the back of the house and into the woods.
The whole time I could hear this huge daddy person screaming and
shouting and complete gibberish, probably furious that his family
had allowed strangers into the house and we've been wearing our
heavier packs. We would have been screwed, but
since we were traveling relatively light, we didn't have
to put down our packs to go in the house to collect water.
If we'd had to, we'd have left them out with the family,
meaning we'd have no choice but to confront daddy to retrieve
them. I didn't get a look at the guy,
but Jake did. When I asked him to describe the
guy, he used but one word, monster.
They certainly sounded like it to me from the noises he was
making. I'm grateful to this day that we
didn't have to deal with him. The only problem we were left
with then was our original one, and after having run full pelt
for a sustained period, we needed water more than ever.
We walked a little further north, just running on pure
adrenaline by that point when out of nowhere we heard the
sound of rushing water that family lived off.
It most probably came from there and chances were that daddy saw
it as part of his property. We moved fast to collect water,
so we didn't exactly have time to celebrate the streams
discovery at the time. All that came later.
Once we were at a safe distance, we were able to complete the
remainder of the hike, and by the end of it, the incident with
the house in the middle of nowhere had already become a
kind of campfire story style anecdote.
It was definitely unnerving to see the condition those folks
were in, and downright scary when we realized that we were
inadvertently trespassing in the home of a furious giant.
But those horrors aren't what stuck with me.
After we got home and went on with our lives, after having
talked about the whole thing with Jake during the remainder
of our hike, we came to a very depressing conclusion.
The family had probably been living there a long time and
most likely refused to move after the region was declared a
wilderness area. There was also a really good
chance that there had been some interbreeding in the family,
most likely going back generations considering the
condition they were in. At least everyone except the
girl. She looks so unlike her
relatives that after a while I started to suspect that she
wasn't related to them at all. And this is where I started to
go down a rabbit hole of sorts. I did a ton of research into
inbreeding in the United States, and as you can probably figure,
it makes for some pretty horrifying reading.
I'm not going to share all of the deeply unsettling stuff that
I've learned, just two little tidbits that I think might be
relevant. Number one is that, historically
speaking, inbreeding in the rural United States happened out
of necessity. Some families were simply too
isolated or unwilling to give up a family member capable of farm
labor. For the most part, second
cousins would wed second cousins.
But sometimes in more disturbing cases, brothers would wed
sisters or fathers would lay with daughters.
But even someone comfortable with such a perversion knows
that there are limits to how far you can push a small gene pool,
which is undoubtedly what led to nasty rumors of kidnapping and
forced breeding. I read multiple accounts of this
some were more reliable than others, but it definitely seems
to be a thing among isolated or reclusive families and tribes
all over the world. After hours of research, the
situation seemed obvious to me, but after failing to find any
kind of missing persons report that might correlate with the
girl we'd seen at the cabin, I decided to contact the police
out in Buffalo to see if they knew anything about the family
living out near Cloud Peak. The first officer I spoke to
claimed no knowledge of them and insisted that permanent housing
wasn't permitted in any of the state's wilderness areas.
He explained that we must have gotten lost and wandered onto
someone's land, and rudely dismissed the idea of me and
Jake being capable navigators. I had to repeatedly request a
phone conversation with the town's chief of police to get
any kind of clarification, but when it came, it only raised
more questions than it answered. The day I finally got him on the
phone, I was actually out running errands, so I had to
pull over to the side of the road in order to talk with him.
I was practically shaking with anticipation when he told me
that he'd already heard my story, and when he asked me if I
was a journalist, I had a pretty good feeling that I was about to
finally get to hear the truth. I told him no, that I wasn't a
journalist, and then everything he told me would be completely
off the record. I also made it clear that I
simply wanted to reassure myself that whatever I'd witnessed
wasn't the result of some hideous case of kidnapping, as I
didn't want my lack of action to plague me for the rest of my
life. And that's when he gave me the
respect enough to admit that there really was a family living
out near Cloud Peak, and that, yes, the family tree had indeed
included some questionable choices of mate.
However, there was no evidence that the little girl had been
kidnapped. At least there had been no
missing persons reports that would suggest that was the case.
Instead, Buffalo's Police Department, as well as those in
other towns around Cloud Peak, had all come to a general
consensus. It was common knowledge among
certain folk that there was a family living up near Cloud
Peak, and there had been for generations.
The region was only declared a wilderness area in 1984, and
records showed that the authorities had offered the
family a large monetary sum to vacate the property.
The offer received no reply. The Chief of police then told me
that a handful of cops and low level politicians then paid the
family a visit, hoping to personally persuade them to
leave their land. The only details of this visit
are a vague report of a refusal, and after that, there's no
mention of the family in any of Johnson County's official
records. Instead, the truth of their
continued existence evolved into a sort of urban legend, and
encounters with the family got so rare that they're now dated
by decade, and despite how unusual and unsettling they
could be, they didn't cause any trouble, So folks just left them
alone. As for the girl, it was the
opinion of regional law enforcement that she was
something of a genetic miracle. Somehow, some way, the family's
genetic stagnation had resolved itself, resulting in an angelic
little girl with hair as dark as coal dust.
No one knew how, and no one knew why.
But until anyone could prove otherwise, the girl was just
part of the family, just as her yapping man, child of a brother,
or her monster of a father. And that was the official story,
and when it came to me questioning it, the chief of
police just didn't want to know. The last thing he wanted was
some East Coast city boy prodding at old wounds, and he
made that politely but perfectly clear to me before we amicably
ended the call. I called Jake immediately, and
we talked for hours and hours, arguing back and forth, taking
turns to play the devil's advocate to each other's
harebrained ideas. I'm not claiming that we're
ultra astute investigative journalists or whatever, and at
no point did we agree on how and why that little girl came to be
there. But this is the theory that
haunts me some nights when the podcasts aren't enough to keep
the bed dread at Bay. I think deep in my heart of
hearts that Buffalo's Chief of Police knows darn well that that
little girl was taken. I think every other cop in the
area knows it too, but keeping it a secret served some grander
purpose. The man that girl called Daddy
was always going to snatch someone, specifically someone
female, in order to inject his family tree with some fresh
blood. Now that female could have been
a relative of any of those police officers or anyone else
in the surrounding towns for that matter.
So to prevent that, I think someone facilitated the
trafficking of a child to that family.
As me and Jake discussed, there's no way in God's green
earth that any state adoption agency would allow custody of a
child to those people. So to prevent them from just
taking someone, arrangements had to have been made.
Granted, I have absolutely no way of proving my claims, and
like the Chief of Police told me, there might well be an
innocent explanation for the whole thing.
But at this stage, I honestly think it would be remiss of me
to not dig a little deeper. I plan to return to Cloud Peak
to find out what's become of that little girl.
If she's still there. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk
to her, find out if she has any memories of a time before.
I have plans to write a book about my experience along with
what I find out there. Maybe this will serve as a kind
of first draft. Who knows?
I'm excited about it, I won't lie, but I'm scared too.
Part of me thinks that if I actually find my way back to
that cabin in the woods, I'll never be seen alive again.
Back in the day, I used to work for the National Trust up in
Scotland, and it was a truly lonely job.
Most of my time was spent either driving long distances or
walking around the desolate Highlands in dire weather
conditions. At work, I had the luxury of
driving around in a BIG4 by 4:00, but when I was off duty, I
had to rely on my own shabby car, a Nissan Micra, that was
far from reliable. One Saturday, I had a special
plan to drive back to England for my mom's birthday.
My boyfriend and I had put a lot of effort into organizing a
surprise party for her, and I was brimming with excitement.
However, my confidence in my little Nissan Micra's ability to
get me there without any issues was practically non existent.
As I drove through the desolate Highlands in the middle of
nowhere, my car's engine started making ominous noises.
Panicking, I pulled over to the side of the road but couldn't
discern what was wrong. I hoped I could limp the car to
a nearby garage, even if it meant being a little late.
However, as I tried to restart the engine, it refused to come
to life no matter how hard I tried or the tricks I attempted.
In those days, there were no quick app based solutions to
summon help and mobile reception was spotty at best.
Breaking down in the middle of nowhere was a significant
ordeal. I kept attempting to start the
engine while mentally preparing myself for the daunting prospect
of walking. It was November, and the
Highland Winds made the idea of walking utterly grim.
After resisting it for as long as I could, I reluctantly
bundled up in my coat, put on my hat and gloves, and braced
myself for the freezing cold outside.
My plan was simple. I would walk to the nearest
anything in the hopes of finding a phone or someone capable of
helping with my car trouble. Just as I started walking, a car
suddenly appeared in the distance.
The road was flanked by dense trees and the car's sudden
appearance took me by surprise. I silently prayed that the
driver would stop for me, and to my relief, he did.
The driver, a seemingly friendly middle-aged man with an English
accent, rolled down his window and asked if I was all right.
I explained my situation and pointed to where my car was.
He suggested that, depending on the damage, he might be able to
get a friend to fix it inexpensively.
I felt a wave of relief and gladly accepted his offer of a
lift back to my car. During the drive, we engaged in
small talk and I learned about his English background and
shared stories about why we were both in Scotland.
After we pulled up behind my car, he took out his mobile
phone and started texting someone, presumably the mechanic
who would come to fix my car. He explained that texting was
more reliable in the Highlands due to the weak signal.
I felt reassured and patiently waited, hoping for the best.
Within a few minutes, his phone buzzed and he informed me that
his friend would arrive in about 20 minutes.
I could handle waiting for 20 minutes, especially if it meant
making it to my mom's surprise party on time.
As we continue to chat, I noticed a subtle change in the
details of his story, which didn't immediately register as
significant. He had initially mentioned where
his business was based, but about 10 to 15 minutes later he
mentioned a different location. I didn't confront him about it,
thinking it might be a simple mistake.
The second red flag came when he asked if anyone was expecting
me. His choice of words expecting
you struck me as odd and I must have given him a puzzled look.
He clarified, asking if I had any plans.
Later, I excitedly told him about my mom's party plans and
how my family was eagerly awaiting my arrival.
However, instead of showing any interest or enthusiasm, he
nodded and stared off into the distance as if lost in thought.
The way he had phrased the question and his subsequent
disinterest in my plans left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my
stomach. I may not have been Sherlock
Holmes, but I knew I had to take action.
I asked him how long his mechanic friend would take, and
after a thoughtful pause, he assured me it would only be a
few more minutes. I seized the opportunity to put
my plan into action. I told him I needed to retrieve
some items from my car, just in case it needed a tow or if I had
to go anywhere. I slipped out of his car and
walk toward mine, pretending to search for things while keeping
a vigilant eye on the road behind us.
Suddenly, a white van appeared around the bend a few 100 yards
away and pulled in behind the stranger's car.
It was pristine and lacked any markings with two individuals in
the cab, not just one as I had expected.
Although I was wary of acting paranoid, I couldn't shake the
feeling that something was wrong.
The mechanic and his friend might find my behavior odd, but
I didn't care. I was more afraid of walking
into a potential trap. I continued my pretense of
rummaging around for non existent items in my car while
keeping a close watch on the approaching van.
When the van finally pulled in behind the stranger's car, I
hurried back to him, making up an excuse about needing a
restroom break and promising to return shortly.
Once hidden among a cluster of trees, I crouched down, trying
to stay out of sight while I watched the stranger and his
associates. Those moments were among the
scariest I had ever experienced. My mind was racing with fear,
wondering what their intentions were.
I didn't move an inch until I got a good look at the two men
who had arrived in the van, but as time passed, my memory
started to become fuzzy. I remember most of what
happened, but after I saw the man in the balaclava, my
recollection becomes disjointed. I do recall running as fast as
my legs could carry me, pushing myself to run even faster, and
finally stopping when I couldn't go any further.
At one point, I became sick from sheer panic.
Many cars passed me by before a kind driver finally pulled over
to check on me. I was petrified that the first
stranger and the men in the van would find me, but thankfully
that didn't happen. Instead, the Good Samaritan
drove me to a police station where I gave a statement.
After that, I visited a mechanic, learning that my car
wouldn't be roadworthy for at least 24 hours.
I secured a room in a bed and breakfast, had a late lunch, and
tearfully spoke to my mom on the phone in my room.
It was one of the worst days of my life.
I had let my mom down, dipped into my savings for repairs, and
narrowly escaped a potentially horrifying fate.
I was able to provide a detailed description of the first man in
his car, but the other two men remained mysterious figures.
The police did their best, but without concrete evidence of a
crime, they couldn't charge anyone.
The first man was questioned, but he maintained his innocence,
claiming he had only tried to help a stranded woman.
Though I managed to escape, I couldn't shake the haunting
thought that I might not have been the only target.
There must have been other girls who weren't as fortunate, and
that chilling realization still haunts me to this day.