This event took place around 1992.
I was just a young man in the military stationed at Fort Hood,
Texas. Those of you who are familiar
with Fort Hood will know what I'm talking about when I say
North Fort Hood. For those who aren't familiar,
let me try to explain so you'll better understand why we were
where we were when this happened.
Fort Hood is a very large military base, probably 1 of the
largest by land area in the United States.
The main base, where you find all the buildings and motor
pools full of vehicles and so forth, is simply called Fort
Hood. It is on the South end of the
overall land that comprises Fort Hood, and just outside its gates
is the town of Killeen. Most of Fort Hood is wilderness
training areas for soldiers and a large impact area for the
artillery units that have to train with their cannons.
At the far northern end of the base there is a small complex
called North Fort Hood. It takes about 30 or 40 minutes
to drive from the main base up to North Fort Hood.
In the early 90s there was not much in the way of buildings or
infrastructure at North Fort Hood.
The unit I was assigned to had to calibrate a piece of
equipment which required it to be set up and left in place for
about a week while the calibration took place.
I'm not going to get into the details about this equipment as
it's not vital to the story. What's important is that we had
to set this equipment up at North Fort Hood during the
process. During the day, some soldiers
were there working on calibrations, but at night we
obviously weren't just going to leave this expensive equipment
unguarded. So every night we would leave
two soldiers with the equipment to keep an eye on things and
make sure nothing happened to it.
It was very easy duty by every measure.
There was a tent to stay in and plenty of food.
Soldiers who stayed the night got the next day off.
Basically we would sit in the tent, play cards or some other
game and just keep an eye on things.
It was basically camping. I volunteered to take a Thursday
night as my turn at guard duty because I had vacation leave
time starting the following Monday.
My rationale was simple. Take guard duty on Thursday
night, get Friday off and start my leave time early.
It was myself and another young soldier who was a friend of
mine. We were both just kids.
I had just turned 21 and I believe he was 19 or so.
Keep in mind that this was 1992, so while cell phones did exist,
they were by no means as prolific as they are now.
It was pretty rare to see someone with a cell phone, and
if you did, it was usually in a big leather carrying bag.
We called them bag phones and they were very expensive.
Needless to say, neither of us had a cell phone.
Why is that important? Because we were dropped off for
guard duty around 5:00 PM. Everyone else left, and we had
no vehicle or way to communicate with anyone.
We were entirely alone if anything happened.
And of course, we weren't expecting anything to happen.
It was, after all, very easy duty.
Watch the equipment, play some cards, eat some chow, No
problem. We were sitting in the tent when
the first winds started to pick up and I noticed storm clouds
moving in from the West. Whoever had set up that hex tent
apparently had no interest in doing it properly because as the
winds got worse, the tent leaned as though it might fold at any
moment. Clearly we were about to get hit
with a pretty severe thunderstorm.
Anyone who has ever lived in Central Texas can tell you that
storms there can blow up quickly and be pretty violent.
Fortunately for us, there was a deuce and a half truck there
with a shelter on the back. For those who don't know, a
deuce and a half is a large 6 wheel drive truck.
If you want an idea of what they look like you can Google M35A2
truck. This particular truck had a
shelter on the back and that is where we retreated to in order
to get out of the path of the approaching storm.
Before anyone asks, I should note that we couldn't drive the
truck away from the campsite because it was needed for the
calibration and we wouldn't abandoned our post anyway.
This falls under the first general order and anyone who has
ever been in the Army knows what I mean.
We secured ourselves in the shelter while the storm passed,
and it was a typical Texas frog strangler to be sure.
Miraculously, the tent did not blow over and I was surprised by
that. Still, we decided to stay in the
back of the truck until dawn as we had already moved one of our
cots inside. We finally lay down at about
10:00 PM and it was very quiet. This is a very remote area and
while we were in a clearing next to a runway, there were no
buildings nearby. All around this airstrip was
just woods. Today there are buildings there.
I've looked at the location on Google Maps, but back then there
was nothing. We had left the door of the
shelter slightly open for two reasons.
The shelter had no power running to it, so there was no airflow.
Shutting the door would have left us susceptible to carbon
monoxide. We needed to be able to hear
what was going on outside. We decided to take turns getting
some rest. Although we'd been told we were
allowed to sleep if we wanted to, we were still on base and
there was absolutely no reason to expect that anything would
happen. My friend was on the cot by the
shelter door and I was on the floor at the other end.
I felt like I had just dozed off when I was shaken violently
awake. It was my friend and as I sat up
he was pulling the shelter door closed and trying to put a lock
on it by using the light from his wristwatch.
He was obviously very upset and scared.
It was the kind of fear that cannot be faked.
This was primal fear. I kept asking him what was wrong
and he finally managed to tell me that something had grabbed
him by the foot and tried to pull him from the shelter.
My first thought was that he had dozed off and had a nightmare.
He insisted that he had not and even stated that whatever
grabbed him had said to him, we'll be back for you then let
him go as he was shaking me awake.
I wasn't sure if it was a prank or not, but my gut instinct was
that he was petrified. His hands were shaking as he
tried to lock the shelter door, so there had to be some truth to
it. I told him we couldn't leave the
door closed because of carbon monoxide.
I was the higher ranking soldier, so technically I was in
charge. He refused to stay by the door
if it was going to be open even a little bit, so I agreed to
switch places with him. I opened the door just a couple
of inches and lay down on the cot, still believing he had just
had a really bad nightmare. He was on the floor at the other
end of the shelter. Within a few minutes, some
pretty strange things began to happen.
We heard scratching sounds on the shelter, on the sides, on
the top and on the front where the cab of the truck was.
A few times the door moved ever so slightly but never opened.
Needless to say, by this time I was convinced that something or
someone was definitely outside and both of us were pretty
scared. I reached to the end of the cot
I was on and pulled out the metal cross member that gives
attention. Then I felt around under the cot
and found a wooden handle to a pickaxe.
In the army we call these pioneering tools, but most
people would know it as a pickaxe handle without the metal
pick on the end. I handed this to my friend and
instructed him that if anyone opened the door to the shelter
we would start swinging and wouldn't stop until whoever it
was went down and wasn't moving. The scratching on the exterior
of the shelter continued intermittently throughout the
night. We made no effort to call out to
whoever or whatever it was. I think we were both just in
fight mode. If anyone had pulled the shelter
door fully open. I had every intention of
fighting for all I was worth, and I'm certain my friend felt
the same way. Eventually it began to get light
outside and as the sky brightened, the scratching
stopped. We stayed in the shelter for
another 40 or 50 minutes until the sun was fully up.
At that point I said I was going to push the door all the way
open, jump off the back of the truck, and if he saw anyone he
should just start swinging. So I counted to three, flung the
door open and jumped off the truck.
When you're 21, you can jump off a deuce and a half and it
doesn't hurt. Now I would be far more
cautious. At any rate, there was nothing.
No one at all. We looked around the truck and
the camp. Nothing.
What I noticed immediately was that while we were leaving boot
tracks in the still wet ground, there were no other tracks
around the truck. I began to look for loose items
on the shelter that might account for the scratching
sound, but there were none. I didn't know whether to feel
relieved or still be on edge. We packed up our gear and about
30 minutes later the relief NCO arrived in a Humvee.
He wasn't even fully out of the truck before we were putting our
stuff in it to leave. He laughed and remarked that we
seemed really ready to go. We never told him a thing.
In fact, we never said anything to anyone in our unit about what
happened. We probably should have, but I
think we were afraid we would be laughed at.
At any rate, I got behind the wheel of the Humvee and my
friend got in the back on the passenger side.
I drove down the road aways and came to a stop at the main
highway that we would take to get back down to Fort Hood.
At that moment there came a clear, loud and distinct clap of
Thunder. I leaned out the window and
looked up. Then I look back at my friend in
the back of the truck and he said something I'll never
forget. There ain't a damn cloud in the
sky, man. I believe I probably set a
record for the fastest drive back to Fort Hood in a Humvee
that morning. I'm not one to believe in this
stuff. I think a lot of paranormal
stories are just active imaginations or people making
things up. But something happened to us
that night and I will never forget it.
It scared the hell out of me and I don't ever want to experience
it again. That's my story and it is 100%
true. It started in the late winter of
1978. The three of us, myself, Ronnie
and Tom, were working at an outdoor education program high
in the San Bernardino Mountains. The outdoor school had taken
over a summer camp for the winter semester.
This camp was located in a saddle in the mountains where
they narrowed and bent from the tectonic forces that created
them. The camp was reached by the Rim
of the World Highway which formed the western edge of the
camp's property. The Rim Rd. ran right along the
edge of the mountains with the camp on one side and a steep
drop off on the other. The road crossed one of the many
rock falls, narrow rock filled canyons that begin at the top of
the mountain and plunge thousands of feet down toward
the Los Angeles Basin. We had snuck out to the rockfall
that night because we knew the view of the city lights below
would be spectacular. The Santa Ana, or Devil Winds,
had been blowing from the desert, up over the mountains
and down into the Los Angeles basin for the previous three
days. These winds had scrubbed every
molecule of smog out of the basin, offering a crystal clear,
unobstructed view from 7000 feet all the way down the Canyon to
the lights below. When we arrived at our spot just
before midnight, the scene could not have been more spectacular.
Standing on the other side of the highway in a small paved
pull out, we gazed at the city lights spread out in front of us
like a giant multi colored carpet of glowing geometric
shapes. Major thoroughfares were lit up
in different hues depending on each jurisdiction's choice of
streetlights. Even at that hour, red and white
snakes of traffic could be seen thousands of feet below.
We could see all the way down to where the lights ended and the
Pacific Ocean lay in darkness. We stood in a loose circle, me,
Tom and Ronnie huddled together, excited about the amazing sight
below us. Ronnie was the one who got down
to business, pulling out one of his famous hand rolled joints.
He lit it as per tradition, took one hit and waved it in the air
while telling a story. Following the red cherry arc
through the air as Ronnie gesticulated is how I first
noticed a bright orangish white light coming over the top of the
mountain behind us. It backlit the peak, then
quickly appeared over it. Traveling down our side of the
mountain, following the Canyon toward the basin, we all noticed
the change in brightness and turned toward its origin.
At first I heard no sound, but as it grew closer, coming down
the mountain in the next Canyon over, I heard a noise that
sounded like what I'd imagine an object creating its own vacuum
in the atmosphere would produce. It was as though the air itself
was being ripped apart. There was no typical aircraft
noise, just a sudden vacuum and an emptiness in the air.
The UFO was vaguely pumpkin seed shaped, with a very bright
reddish orange glow at the thicker head of the seed and an
orangish white vapor trailing behind it.
It came over the mountain and down the Canyon at a constant
height of about 100 feet above the peaks, lighting the ground
beneath it. It followed the canyon's contour
until it reached approximately 2000 feet above the basin below,
where it leveled out and traveled W toward the ocean.
It dropped 4000 to 5000 feet down the Canyon in less than 10
seconds, passing a couple of miles to the West of us.
The craft was clearly visible, vibrantly glowing as it speed W.
Also visible were the running lights of a small plane flying
in the same direction, slightly ahead of the UFO.
As we watched the blinking lights of the plane, we saw the
UFO rapidly decelerate from its incredible speed down the
mountain and then stop right next to the plane.
From our vantage point, it looked to be at the same
altitude, extremely close and to the planes left.
After matching the plane's speed and vector for about 3 seconds,
the UFO suddenly accelerated forward, turned left, and
disappeared over the Pacific toward Mexico.
It went from the eastern most part of the Los Angeles basin
down toward Long Beach and out of sight in less than a few
seconds, leaving behind only a faint orange plasma trail and a
pilot who probably had a sudden need to change his underwear.
We stood there, transfixed, staring at the empty space where
the UFO had been, then looking at each other with a mix of awe
and panic in our eyes. Ronnie very slowly and
deliberately crushed out the joint on the heel of his boot
and tucked it into his pocket. Then we all started talking at
once. What the hell was that?
Where did it go? Did you see it stop next to that
plane? What can do that?
Nothing, that's what. That was when the panic set in.
We looked at each other and then took off running at full speed
back toward our cabins. We didn't speak of it again
until we could be together with no one else around.
How do you explain something that sounds so crazy?
We had all seen a lot of strange things in our collective
lifetimes, but none of us could explain what we saw that night.
We tried to figure out how to get more information, but we
were stuck in the mountains five days a week without TV,
newspapers, or radio. This was long before the
Internet. That sighting became a pivot
point between the three of us, something we would often discuss
and try to figure out, but never could.
After the semester ended, we went our separate ways for the
summer. Ronnie joined the California
Department of Forestry as a wildland firefighter, Tom
traveled to Hawaii to work at a YMCA summer camp, and I headed
back to Big Bear to work at a YMCA camp there.
And this is where the story gets really weird.
Neither Ronnie nor Tom live to see the end of that summer.
Ronnie was killed in the Spanish Ranch fire near San Luis Obispo.
Less than two weeks after learning of Ronnie's death, I
heard that Tom had disappeared off the coast of Hawaii.
The story was that he had been on the beach, got swept out to
sea by a Rogue Wave, then was eaten by sharks and his body was
never found. To say that I was mentally
shaken would be an understatement.
Having two of your friends who had witnessed an unearthly UFO
encounter die in such unusual ways within six months of that
sighting, 1 by fire and one by water, really freaked me out.
I kept thinking fire, water, earth, air.
For years after that, I avoided any situation where one of those
elements could kill me. That's my UFO story.
I still do not know what happened that night.
All I know is that it was completely mind boggling and
changed my life irrevocably. I know what happened to Ronnie
and have visited the site where he died.
Tom, on the other hand, may still be alive.
I have a strong feeling he might have faked his own death, but
that's a story for another time. This happened to me in July this
year and I've been thinking about it constantly ever since.
I'll try to sum up the experience as best I can.
So I'm kind of a mentally ill weirdo.
I have BPD and CPTSD, and I'm a 24 year old girl who lives alone
in the city, just minding my own business.
I have a few friends but I'm not close with my family.
It's not unusual for me to go a few weeks or months without
really seeing anyone besides coworkers, especially during a
global pandemic, so I've just been doing my own thing.
This encounter happened during one of those few weeks stretches
of isolation. I'm only giving this bit of
exposition so people can understand my psych history as
well as my mental state, et cetera.
At the start of July, I got this uncontrollable impulse to go
camping in stargaze. I never go camping alone.
I haven't been in around four years and had no camping gear
whatsoever. But I wanted to go for some
reason. So I researched some good dark
sky spots in Utah. Found a cute little campground
about four hours into the desert and reserved the last spot
available for a week from that day.
I bought all my stuff the day before and I'm horrible at
planning and time management, so by the time I arrived at the
campground the sun was already going down.
I had also forgotten my charger and realized I had to make my
60% battery last until I could make it back to the city the
next day. There was no service out there,
so that seemed easy enough. My entire goal was to chill in
my hammock chair all night and stargaze anyway, so all I needed
was some music for that. I specifically chose the night
of a new moon for this, so I knew I had to get my tent set up
and situated ASAP before the sun went down.
There were a lot of other people there, but most were families
with kids getting ready for bed. I could hear parents reading
scripture to their kids before bed, Mormons, and could see
others reading on Kindles and stuff before sleeping.
By the time everything was set up, it was about 10:00 PM.
Almost at once everyone turned their lights off and went to
sleep. This really weirded me out at
first because it was the perfect night for stargazing.
I didn't see a single other person setting up a chair to
stargaze any telescopes, or even just someone outside their tent
looking up. Everyone was either already
asleep or going to sleep. I gave it some more thought.
And figured they all probably just wanted to wake up before or
with the sunrise because we were in the desert.
Sleeping in wouldn't exactly be a pleasant experience when
you're getting cooked alive, I imagine.
I work night shift so staying up was not an issue in the
slightest. At this point, the only people I
could see who were awake were myself, a family at the
campground vaguely near me reading scripture, and a whole
mess of people at the bathroom. My tent is located at the far
side of the campground, so to my left is nothing but desert and
Cliff. In front of me is the bathroom,
about 100 feet or so away, two other campgrounds about 300 feet
away, and more desert and sky. To my right and behind me is the
rest of the campground. There's another bathroom on the
far side of the campground behind me to the right, which is
probably around 700 and 900 feet away.
These two bathrooms are the only source of any light in the
campground aside from a few people who are using their
flashlights to come to and from the bathroom.
Like I said earlier, I'm a weirdo.
I won't deny that. Which honestly makes telling
this story to others hard. My goal out here was to grieve
and move on from a lot of loss I experienced a year ago.
A lot of bad stuff happened in my life and I lost a lot of
loved ones as a result. Sometimes a good mushroom trip
can really help someone find a lot of closure when it comes to
grief. So that was my only goal for
this trip. I ate around 2G and was coming
up around 11:00 PM. Now hear me out.
You might be asking what kind of close encounter story can be
believed when the person telling it was under the influence of a
psychedelic. That's a good question, and I'd
say being skeptical of a person's experience under the
influence of such drugs is common sense.
That being said, I want to point out that I have a gross amount
of experience with psychedelics, including trips in even weirder
and more isolated places than this.
I've tripped on mushrooms easily dozens of times in my life, and
on acid probably over 100 times. I have kept tons of trip
journals, have recordings from trips, etcetera.
Never once has anything like this happened to me before or
since. I have never seen things while
tripping, have never interacted with entities, have never had
thoughts or paranoia about something being there that's
not. I always have the same trips.
Some textures get WAVY, my emotions become full and bright
and I feel at peace in my mind for those few hours.
That's it. I'm convinced that what happened
to me in the desert was not a product of the drugs, but merely
happened to me while I was tripping.
It would have been the same had I not been on psychedelics.
But that's just my opinion. I definitely do invite
skepticism otherwise. So yeah, I'm coming up and ready
to stargaze. I have to pee though, and all
these people hanging out around the bathroom are making me
nervous. No one else is awake that I can
see now. No lights are on or tents open
anywhere around me. The only people still awake are
all over by the bathroom. I eventually cave and just head
over there and do my thing. No one bothers me or says
anything. Luckily I start walking back to
my chair. My spot is pretty close to the
bathroom. If I walk from the front of it
in a straight line in the dark, I will without fail hit my tent
after about 25 seconds of walking.
Because it's that easy, I don't bother using my flashlight, plus
saving my phone battery for the drive out is still my priority.
I'm walking through the dark when I see the outline of my
hammock chair and a person standing right next to it
staring at it. I freeze and stare at them.
I'm super confused as to why this person is in my campsite,
standing alone in the dark just staring at my chair.
Maybe they're curious about it, I don't know.
It's weird as hell. I wave at them but they don't
notice, so I move a little closer and I guess the sound of
my footsteps alerted them to my presence because they shot their
head up toward me, took around 3 steps in my direction, backed up
about 6 steps, flashed a bluish flashlight in my eyes, and fast
walked away from me toward another person.
I hadn't noticed someone else standing in the dark about 15
feet away. The two of them stood next to
each other, shining their blue flashlights at their feet.
Then they both moved around me toward the bathroom and
disappeared into the women's restroom.
Weird, right? I thought.
So standing there all terrified like a dumb idiot, I
rationalized that maybe the first person was waiting for
their friend to catch up or something.
I sat down and finally put on some good music in my headphones
and just melted into the beautiful show playing in the
sky above. It's now around 11:30 PM to
midnight and there are still people messing around near the
women's restroom. It's really distracting at this
point and bugging me a lot because it's right in my line of
sight. They just keep waving their
flashlights around and coming in and out, but they never seem to
go anywhere. They'll walk out of the
restroom, turn their lights off, and just walk into the dark
without their lights to guide them.
Usually they either walk behind the bathroom where I can't see
them, or off to the left side into the dark where there are no
campsites. I notice someone is standing
next to me. I tear my headphones out and
jerk my head to the right. There is a silhouette of a
person standing about 7 feet from my chair.
I am frozen and spooked pretty bad.
They take around two or three steps toward me, then back up
again around six and walk around me and away into the dark with
no flashlight away from me in the bathroom.
Now I'm freaking spooked. I don't think it's anything
supernatural right now, but I definitely think it's some
people up to no good. The nearest city is hundreds of
miles away, and we are far from any civilization out here.
If these were people trying to hurt me, they could do it rather
easily. I stay in the chair for now, but
I keep my headphones off so I can hear the environment around
me. My head is now on a swivel, but
I'm still trying my best to enjoy the night.
Around midnight, no one else is awake.
No flashlights anywhere, no voices, nothing.
All the bathroom people finally vanished and it seemed like I
was the only one awake with my headphones off.
I started to notice sounds now. The sound of a jet somewhere
nearby would come and go flying around somewhere in the desert.
I kept looking for its aircraft lights but could never find
them. This deep, almost physics
defying boom would occasionally shake the desert, but in a weird
way. When I heard and felt it, I
would feel my body tense and shake with it, and the air too,
but never the ground. It's weird because it sounded as
if it was coming from the ground itself, not the air.
I would also hear what sounded like laughter coming from the
desert to my left, the part with no campsites or people.
I was still, at this point, just chilling.
I was obviously starting to suspect some weird crap, but for
the most part I was just chilling and enjoying the night.
Then orbs in the sky. I practically crapped myself
when I saw this. Above one of the cliffs, far out
on the horizon, a little swarm of glowing orbs appeared and
they were almost dancing around one another.
I remember this moment very clearly.
I remember seeing them and thinking, I can't explain that,
What the hell is that? There is nothing I could imagine
that could move like that, not even drones.
I won't record this, I promise. It would ruin it and I want to
see it through. I remember thinking that last
part very clearly out of nowhere and it was weird how specific it
was in my mind. I hadn't even thought to record
it in the first place, but here I was making a promise to myself
that I wouldn't even try no matter what happened.
Another cluster of orbs appears in the sky to my right, and
almost simultaneously the orbs to my left instantly shoot
across the sky to join the other orbs.
I start smiling like a damn idiot.
This is it. The thing I have been staring at
the sky looking for my whole damn life.
The thing I stopped believing in for decades because I never saw
it. I had let the world convince me
that it was just as boring as it appeared and never once allowed
myself to think it could actually be more than that.
And the proof was finally staring me in the face.
I had to keep checking in with myself.
Being like, this isn't the shrooms, right?
No, it's definitely not. I see that and I know I'm not
hallucinating it. I probably went through that
little personal questioning close to a dozen times over the
course of the next few minutes. The jet sound comes back, and
it's much louder now. I can actually see the aircraft
lights now too, flying directly overhead, but they aren't
blinking like usual. They fly into this dark cloud in
the sky I hadn't noticed before and vanish along with the jet
sound. The orbs continue playing around
each other until they vanish too.
All in all, I'd say this lasted for about an hour.
It's now around 1:00 AM and I really have to pee.
I obviously hold it as long as I can because I'm witnessing the
single most special thing I'll ever get to see right in front
of my eyes, but eventually I break and just want to get it
over with. So I'm a trans woman.
I wouldn't even bring that up if it didn't have some sort of
relevance to the story. To be honest.
I look and sound exactly like a girl.
It's pretty much impossible for people to tell and I haven't
been clocked in a long time. I'm out here in the desert on
shrooms witnessing some high strangeness, but I still got to
be careful about which bathroom I use.
Normally I would just use the women's, but those people I
encountered earlier were still making me paranoid so I figured
if worse comes to worst I'd rather be caught in the men's in
case there are some weirdos out here.
I head in there and I'm doing my thing at the urinal as fast as
possible. The moment I start, the door to
the restroom shoots open and this guy with short brown hair,
around 5 foot 6 1/2, sunken droopy face runs in, eyes glued
to the ground and barges into the stall next to me, shutting
the door and doing his business. The only word I could use to
describe him was that he looked sick.
This obviously scares the crap out of me.
It's 1:00 AM and I haven't seen another human being in a few
hours. Plus I just saw the light show
in the sky and I'm a CIS looking girl peeing standing up at a
urinal and I'm alone with this dude.
He pees for, no joke, 3 seconds. That's it.
All that rush, all that urgency for three seconds of tinkle
time. Who does that?
He spent the rest of his time in there slowly pulling out toilet
paper from the roller. For some reason I'm a dumb idiot
and just held my bladder for way too long so I'm trying my best
to get it all out so I can leave but it's taking forever.
I finally finish and for some reason I go to wash my hands.
I don't know why, it just felt like the right thing to do in
the moment. The guy shoots out of the stall
again way too hard and fast, comes right next to me at the
sink, washes his hands for a total of 2 seconds, and leaves
the bathroom as fast as he entered.
I'm just kind of shook, but again, I'm trying to rationalize
this. I just think he's probably
tripping too, and the sight of some girl peeing at the urinal
at 1:00 AM probably made him think I was an alien as well.
So I head out and back to my chair.
The moment I sit down, the lights in the bathroom I was
just in shut off all at once. The lights in the women's
bathroom and the men's. No one enters or leaves either,
and now just a single tiny yellow bulb can be seen glowing
above a park ranger's bulletin board on the side of the
building. I sit down and almost kind of
invite more weird stuff to happen around me.
The Jets are back now and louder than before.
There are orbs forming a huge ring around the campground,
pulsating, growing and then dimming, slowly drifting around.
I'm terrified, but also I can't move.
It's too cool. To be honest, that's really the
whole reason I didn't hide in my tent.
Who the hell in their right mind would listen to their instinct
to run when you could see how far it could go?
I hear stranger sounds coming from the desert, what sounds
like shouting and a baby crying far, far away.
The orbs reappear in the sky and behind the trees next to my
tent. It looks like the moon is
shining through, but it's a new moon.
It's now 2:00 AM. The bathroom lights come back
on, but only in the men's restroom.
The women's remains off and I see no one come or go.
At this point, the only thing I've been muttering to myself
for a while is I'm a dumb idiot. Why am I doing this?
This is terrifying and I'm dumb for just letting it happen.
I'm very aware of my desire to run and give in to the fear, but
that is highly outweighed by my curiosity.
At least it was. A person comes from seemingly
nowhere with no flashlight on and no clear direction and walks
in front of the bathroom and it's terrifying.
Normally that wouldn't be scary, it's just some person.
But this person was easily 1013 feet tall.
The bathroom itself was around 13 feet tall, and this person's
head was at mid level with the top ventilation window.
The crown of their head was taller than the building itself.
They walked in front of the restroom and into the dark and I
shot out of my chair. The only thing I said was Nope,
Nope, Nope, Nope, freaking Nope. That's terrifying.
Or something like that. As fast as I could, I ran into
my tent and quickly zipped it up.
There was no not running. At this point, my sympathetic
nervous system just took over and was very adamant that I
needed to hide. It's hard to describe what I
felt, but it was the most primal fear I've ever felt.
I have BPD and CPTSD so I'm used to feeling a staggering amount
of terror in my mind on a daily basis when my symptoms show up,
but this was on a whole other level.
It was like some deep animal part of me understood the moment
I saw them that I was no longer at the top of the food chain.
Another ultra predator much smarter than me had just made
itself known and my body was tensing up like a wild animal at
the sight of it. I felt truly humbled and small
in that moment and knew I was outmatched.
They were now outside of my tent, scurrying in circles
around it. The sound of their footsteps
gave way to the feeling of their voice playing alongside my own
inner voice. This is where it gets hard to
explain. We talked, but talking is not
the right word for it. They communicate in pure concept
and feeling, and it's so subtle and instantaneous it's hard to
describe how obvious it is, while at the same time being so
subtle as to almost be indistinguishable from your own
thoughts or feelings. The things we talked about were
rather personal, so I won't go into too much detail.
I asked them about The Jets, whether that was us and if we're
trying to find them. They said yes.
I thought we aren't smart enough to find you guys.
They said no, you are smart, you just aren't creative.
They said they are scared of us too, but are much more aware of
us than we are of them. They want to know us more, but
it's hard. Too much complication.
They cited me running and hiding as proof.
I said that's natural. I'm still an animal with a
nervous system hardwired for survival.
Something new and unknown is going to do that to people no
matter how rational they try to stay.
They said they liked me because I was honest about the fear.
They were scared too. They want freedom and they want
that for us as well. But they aren't quite sure what
to do. Or at least they wouldn't tell
me. Whenever I asked their name or
why they were here, they deliberately ignored me.
They also seemed to get a kick out of messing with me, citing
that as a reason for this encounter.
They did one thing that I really liked.
They showed me that they have always cared and always will.
It's hard to describe the feeling they gave me, but it
really was unconditional love. They called me family and kept
expressing their love for me, telling me that I chose this.
I didn't fully get that part when they said it.
A bunch of memories from my childhood flooded in, but I'm
still struggling to draw any connections.
After a while, of course, I had to pee again.
I did, and nothing happened. I went back into my tent to eat
some trail mix and record an audio note of what we'd just
talked about so I could remember as much as possible.
I noticed the time on my phone said something like 11:00 AM.
My phone has never messed up like that before or changed the
time on me. It was a little validating to
see to be honest. It was very clearly the middle
of the night, not 11. AMI left the tent and they
messed with me some more. More orbs in the trees, lights
going off in the bathroom. Eventually 5:00 AM came and they
were gone. The sun came up and I headed
home. There are a lot of details I
skipped over as this post is already way too long, but there
you have it. Like I said, I don't expect
anyone to believe me. I invite the skepticism
honestly, because I was under the influence of a psychedelic
substance. I do have to say, out of the
hundreds of trips I've had, I've never experienced something like
this before or since. I truly believe that these
events happened and that the drugs were not responsible for
their inception whatsoever. What to take away from it, I'm
not sure. It was amazing and I want to
meet them again. I am extremely humbled now.
I believe in other beings again and I have this sense of family
and home in myself I've never quite had before.
Has anyone out there met them too?
I'd love to hear your story if so, and to let you know you
aren't alone in your experience. They are out there and they do
exist. It didn't feel right from the
moment we stepped off the trailhead and into the forest.
Don't get me wrong, I've hiked before.
Nothing crazy, just a few weekend trips.
But something about Blackwood Reserve didn't feel right.
The air was dense, heavy in a way that made it hard to breathe
even before we'd started the climb.
The trees were unnaturally tall, their bare branches tangled like
veins against the overcast sky, and the wind carried a faint
metallic Tang that clung to the back of my throat.
I told myself it was nothing, just nerves, but that gnawing
unease wouldn't go away. The others didn't seem to
notice. Mike, my roommate, was up ahead
joking with Rachel and Zoe about how much he'd over packed Tom
and Clara. The guides led the group, their
calm practice demeanour a stark contrast to the rest of us
fumbling with our gear. I hung back, my pack heavier
than it should have been, my eyes darting to the shadows
between the trees. We'd been hiking for hours when
the path opened into a clearing. Here we are.
Tom announced, dropping his pack and gesturing around the
campsite. Wasn't much.
A patch of uneven ground surrounded by trees with just
enough space for us to pitch our tents.
The forest pressed in close, a solid wall of black trunks and
tangled undergrowth making the clearing feel smaller than it
was. We spread out to set up camp,
each claiming a spot. I picked a patch of ground at
the edge of the clearing, close to the tree line.
Big mistake. The forest was quieter here, the
usual buzz of insects and birds replaced by an oppressive
silence. Even the wind barely stirred the
trees. I focused on pitching my tent,
trying to ignore the prickling sensation crawling up my neck.
Hey, Jonah, you good? Mike called, his voice cutting
through the stillness. Yeah, I lied, not looking up,
just tired. The truth was, I knew we were
being watched. Every time I glanced at the tree
line, I swore I saw something move.
A flicker of shadow, the quick dart of something too fast to
track. I kept telling myself it was my
imagination, that my eyes were playing tricks in the fading
light. By the time the sun dipped below
the horizon, the temperature had plummeted.
We huddled around the fire, eating dehydrated meals and
swapping stories, but even the flickering flames couldn't chase
away the cold. The fog rolled in, thick and
fast, curling around the trees like skeletal fingers.
It muffled everything, the crackle of the fire, our voices,
even the distant rustle of the forest.
Ever hear the stories about this place?
Clara asked, breaking the uneasy silence.
Tom shot her a look, but she shrugged.
What? They're just stories.
What stories? Rachel asked, leaning closer.
People say the forest is strange, Clara said, her voice
low. Things go missing out here.
People, animals. They say the forest takes them.
OK, creepy, Zoe muttered, laughing nervously.
Relax. Clara said, waving it off.
It's just local folklore. Every place like this has its
ghost stories. But the words lingered, planting
a seed of fear that grew as the night wore on.
I retreated to my tent early, unable to get rid of the unease.
The fire cast long shadows across the clearing, and as I
zipped myself inside, I tried to convince myself that everything
was fine. It was just another hike.
The stories were just stories. I fell asleep to the sound of
the wind whispering through the trees.
When I woke up, the whispering was gone.
It took me a moment to realize what had startled me.
The forest was silent. Not the peaceful kind of quiet
you get in the wilderness, but the kind of silence that makes
your skin crawl. No wind, no crickets, nothing.
Just an oppressive, suffocating stillness.
I heard something. Leaves crunching, slow footsteps
circling the edge of the clearing.
I froze, every muscle in my body tensing.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I strained to listen.
The steps were heavy and wrong. Not an animal, too slow, too
calculated. They stopped just outside my
tent. I held my breath, every nerve
screaming at me to stay still. Something was out there.
I couldn't see it, but I could feel it.
Something large, just beyond the thin layer of fabric separating
me from the forest. The steps started again, moving
around the perimeter of the tent, unhurried.
Then the sound shifted. It wasn't just footsteps
anymore. It was dragging something sharp,
like claws scraping against the ground.
My breath hitched as a shadow passed across my tent, faint but
unmistakable. It lingered, motionless, before
moving on. The air was so cold now, I could
see my breath misting in the dim light of the moon filtering
through the fog. I wanted to unzip the tent, to
look, but my body refused to move.
Then came the breathing. It was shallow, labored, almost
human, but with a wet, gurgling edge that made my stomach churn.
The sound came from just behind me, close enough that I could
feel the vibrations in the air. I don't know how long it lasted.
Minutes, hours. Time stretched and warped, and
the only thing I could focus on was the sound of that thing
outside my tent. And then it was gone.
I didn't sleep. I lay there, staring at the
fabric of my tent, waiting for the sound to return.
But the forest stayed silent, and eventually, exhaustion
pulled me under. Morning came too quickly.
Sunlight filtered through the fog, casting long, pale shadows
across the campsite. The others were already up,
packing their gear, laughing and joking like nothing had
happened. But I wasn't the only one who'd
heard it. Clara caught my eye as I stepped
out of my tent. She didn't say anything, but her
expression said enough she'd heard it too.
I didn't say anything at first. Honestly, I thought maybe I
dreamed it, chalked it up to exhaustion and my brain playing
tricks on me. But when I stepped out of my
tent that morning, the look on Clara's face said otherwise.
Her smile was forced, her usual confident demeanour cracked at
the edges. I wanted to ask her if she'd
heard it, the breathing, the footsteps, the dragging claws,
but part of me was terrified of her answer.
What if she had worse? What if she hadn't and I was
just losing my mind? Rough night?
She asked casually, her voice low enough that the others
couldn't hear. I nodded, swallowing hard.
Did you hear anything? Her eyes flicked toward the
forest, and for a moment I thought she was going to brush
it off, but then she nodded, almost imperceptible.
Footsteps. She whispered.
It's probably just wildlife. Let's pack up and keep moving.
Wildlife. Sure.
That didn't explain the breathing or the shadow circling
my tent. The others didn't seem to notice
anything off as we broke camp, but I couldn't stop scanning the
tree line. The fog still clung to the
forest like a veil and every shifting shadow felt like a pair
of eyes watching me. I kept my head down and focused
on putting 1 foot in front of the other as we hiked deeper
into the woods. It wasn't until we stopped for
lunch at a small Creek that the tension in my chest loosened
just a bit. The sound of running water felt
like a bomb after the suffocating silence of the
campsite, but even then, I knew that we weren't alone.
As I filled my water bottle, Rachel crouched next to me, her
voice low. Hey, did you see anything weird
last night? My stomach dropped.
What do you mean? She glanced over her shoulder,
making sure the others weren't listening.
There was this light outside my tent, like like someone was
walking around with a Lantern, but when I looked out, there was
no one there. I froze.
You're sure it wasn't someone in the group?
Rachel shook her head. No one else was moving.
I checked. I didn't know what to say, so I
didn't say anything. The rest of the group was
laughing and talking like this was just another hike, but
Rachel's words hung heavy between us.
We packed up and started hiking again, and that's when things
got worse. The forest felt alive in the
worst way. The fog seemed thicker now,
clinging to our clothes and muffling our voices.
The trees loomed closer, their gnarled branches twisting
together overhead, blocking out the sky.
And the silence, that awful, oppressive silence, was back.
About an hour into the hike, I saw it.
At first I thought it was just a trick of the light, a shadow
moving between the trees, too quick to track.
But then it happened again, a lot closer.
A figure, tall, thin and hunched, darted from one tree to
the next, its movements jerky and unnatural.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Jonah, you OK?
Mike asked, his voice breaking through the haze.
I, I thought I saw something, I said, my throat dry.
Probably just a deer, he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
It wasn't a deer. By the time we reached the next
campsite, the sun was already dipping below the horizon.
The guides tried to keep everyone calm, cracking jokes
and telling stories as we set up our tents, but the tension was
palpable. Even Mike was quieter than
usual, his usual bravado replaced with a nervous energy
that made him fidget constantly. I pitched my tent as close to
the fire as I could, but it didn't help.
The second night was worse. It started the same way,
footsteps crunching in the leaves, slowly circling the
camp. But this time they didn't stop.
At the edge of the clearing they came closer, the sound growing
louder, heavier, until it felt like whatever was out there was
standing right next to my tent. The breathing came next, wet
gurgling and so close I could feel the vibrations in the air.
My skin prickled and my heart hammered against my ribs as the
shadow passed across the fabric of my tent.
And then it scratched. The sound was unbearable, sharp
claws dragging across the nylon, slow and methodical, like it was
testing the strength of the material.
I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming, every muscle in
my body locked in place. The light returned brighter this
time, casting a cold blue glow through the tent.
I could see the silhouette of something just outside, twisted
and hunched, its limbs too long, its movements erratic.
It lingered, the claws raking across the tent one last time
before the light suddenly disappeared, plunging me back
Into Darkness. I couldn't take it anymore.
I unzipped the tent just enough to peer outside.
My breath caught in my throat. The fire had burned low, casting
faint shadows across the clearing.
But just beyond the edge of the light, I saw it.
A figure. Tall, impossibly thin, with
elongated limbs that twitched and jerked as it moved.
Its head was cocked at an unnatural angle, and though its
face was obscured, I could feel its gaze on me, cold and
piercing. I didn't scream.
I couldn't. The thing turned its head
further, as if studying me, before disappearing into the
shadows With a sudden, unnatural speed.
I zipped the tent shut and sat there, shaking, until dawn.
When morning came, I found Rachel standing at the edge of
the clearing, staring into the forest.
She turned to me, her face pale. Did you see it?
She whispered. I nodded.
We didn't speak again after that.
There was nothing left to say. I don't remember much about how
it started that morning, just the raw, gnawing fear that had
eaten at me through the night. None of us said much as we
packed up. Rachel and I exchanged a glance,
but it wasn't the kind of look that needed words.
She'd seen it too, whatever it was.
Even Mike, who always had something sarcastic to say,
stayed quiet. His usual cocky grin was gone,
replaced by a pale, tight lipped expression.
Tom and Clara tried to keep things light, but their voices
sounded forced, brittle. The unspoken agreement was
clear. We needed to get out of
Blackwood Reserve fast. The trail back to the cars felt
different, like the forest itself was shifting around us.
The fog had lifted slightly, but the shadows were longer, darker,
and they seemed to move when you weren't looking.
The trees, tall and skeletal, bent inward, their branches
clawing at the sky. Every crunch of our boots on the
dirt trail felt deafening in the silence.
Then, about halfway back, the footsteps returned.
At first they were distant, just the faintest crunch of leaves
far behind us. I tried to tell myself it was
nothing, maybe a deer or a stray hiker taking the same trail, but
the sound didn't fade. It followed us, slow and
deliberate, matching our pace but never getting closer.
Tom stopped abruptly and turned, scanning the path behind us.
Anyone see anything? He asked, trying to sound calm.
No one answered, we all just stood there, frozen, listening.
The footsteps stopped too, and that's when I realized something
worse. The forest was dead silent.
Not just quiet, but wrong. No birds, no wind, no rustling
leaves. Just that awful, suffocating
stillness. Let's keep moving.
Clara said quickly, her voice tight.
We picked up the pace, our boots crunching faster against the
dirt. The footsteps started again,
louder this time, and closer. My heart pounded as I glanced
over my shoulder, half expecting to see that twisted figure from
the night before. But there was nothing.
Just the trees and the endless, shifting shadows.
Then it started running. The sound of heavy, uneven
footfalls thundered through the forest, crashing through the
underbrush like something enormous and unhinged.
It was coming straight for us. Go.
Tom shouted, his voice breaking as he took off down the trail.
We ran. Branches whipped at my face,
roots snagged my boots, but I didn't dare stop.
The sound of it was everywhere, like the forest itself was alive
and chasing us. I didn't look back.
I couldn't. Rachel screamed behind me, and I
skidded to a stop, turning just in time to see her fall.
Her ankle had caught on a root and she was struggling to get
up, tears streaming down her face.
Help her. Mike shouted, but his voice was
drowned out by the deafening roar, yes, roar, of whatever was
behind us. I didn't think.
I just grabbed Rachel under the arm and hauled her to her feet,
dragging her forward as fast as I could.
The thing was close now, close enough that I could feel its
breath, hot and rancid on the back of my neck.
We broke into a clearing, the trees finally giving way to a
patch of rocky terrain. In the distance, I could see the
trailhead, our cars parked like lifeboats waiting to save us.
Almost there. Clara shouted, her voice hoarse.
I didn't believe we'd make it. The thing was too fast, too
relentless. But then, for the first time, I
dared to look back. I wish I hadn't.
It was massive, taller than any man, its limbs too long and
thin, its body twisted in ways that didn't make sense.
Its face, or what passed for a face, was a mess of shadows and
glowing, faintly blue eyes that seared into me.
And its hands, tipped with claws, reached for us with an
unnatural hunger. Run.
I screamed, pushing Rachel ahead of me as the thing lunged.
I don't know how we made it, but we did.
The trailhead appeared like a mirage and we stumbled out of
the forest, collapsing onto the gravel parking lot.
The thing stopped just at the edge of the trees, its glowing
eyes burning into me as it let out a low, guttural sound that
vibrated through my chest. Then it disappeared, melting
back into the shadows like it had never been there.
For a long time, none of us spoke.
We just sat there, gasping for air, staring at the tree line.
I half expected it to come back to drag us screaming into the
forest, but the woods stayed still.
Eventually, Tom broke the silence.
Everyone OK? His voice was shaky and his
hands were trembling as he tried to light a cigarette.
No one answered. What could we say?
We piled into the cars and drove in silence, the weight of what
had happened pressing down on all of us.
I stared out the window, watching the trees blur past, my
heart still hammering in my chest as we pulled into the
nearest town, I finally spoke. I'm never going back there.
I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Never again. No one argued, no one even
looked at me. But I meant it.
Whatever was out there in Blackwood Reserve wasn't just
dangerous, it was wrong. And I wasn't going to stick
around to see what it wanted. I'd always thought I was tough
enough for any wilderness challenge.
That's what brought me to Blackwater Hollow in the dead of
winter. I craved the kind of isolation
that could strip you down to your bones and remind you what
it meant to be alive. But as I stood at the trailhead,
staring into the dense forest draped in snow, I felt the first
prickle of unease. The road to get here had been
brutal. Two hours of skidding on icy,
narrow logging roads where one wrong move would have sent me
into a ravine. My truck was now parked
crookedly, half frozen to the ground, its tires clinging to
the last patch of solid earth before the wilderness swallowed
me whole. The silence was the first thing
that hit me, Not the peaceful kind that makes you breathe a
little easier. This was heavy, like the woods
themselves were holding their breath.
No wind, no rustling branches, no distant animal calls.
Just me, the crunch of snow under my boots and the faint hum
of my own breath freezing in the air.
I adjusted my pack, double checked my hatchet, and started
walking. The trail was barely a
suggestion of a path, overgrown and obscured by a thick layer of
snow. My boots sank deep with each
step, and I had to push through dense, frozen underbrush.
There were no tracks, no signs of anyone having passed this way
in weeks, maybe months. Just endless trees standing like
silent Sentinels on either side. About an hour in, I started
noticing things. The claw marks on the trees were
the first long parallel grooves dug deep into the bark, too high
for any animal I could think of. A bear, maybe, but they should
have been hibernating. I stopped to study one of the
marks, running my gloved fingers over the rough edges, and they
looked deliberate, almost like someone had dragged something
sharp down the trunk on purpose. Then there was the trench.
It wasn't part of the trail. It ran perpendicular to it,
cutting through the snow in a shallow groove.
My first thought was that someone had dragged a sled, but
there were no footprints alongside it, just the trench,
like something heavy had been pulled along by something or
someone that left no trace of themselves.
I stood there for a moment, staring down the faint line as
it disappeared into the trees, and told myself I didn't have
time to investigate, not with the sun already dipping lower in
the sky the deeper I went, the stranger it got.
Every so often I'd come across trees with the bark stripped
completely clean, the pale wood beneath standing out starkly
against the dark trunks around it.
It wasn't weather or rot. It was as if something had
peeled it away, leaving jagged edges that seemed too violent to
be natural. I kept moving, telling myself it
was just my imagination, but the silence around me felt heavier
with every step. By the time I reached the
clearing near the frozen pond, I was exhausted.
The spot seemed perfect. Flat ground, a good view of the
area, and close enough to the pond that I could collect water
once I broke through the ice. But as I set down my pack and
started clearing a space for my tent, I had the sensation that I
was being watched. I turned, scanning the tree
line, but there was nothing there, just shadows stretching
long in the fading light. I shrugged it off and started
gathering wood for a fire. That's when I saw the strange
marks again, this time on the ground.
A loose circle of broken branches, scattered haphazardly,
but too concentrated to be random.
It wasn't like a fallen tree or the remnants of a storm.
It was deliberate. And at the center of the circle,
the snow was packed down, as if something heavy had been sitting
there for a long time before being dragged away.
My mind raced through possibilities, none of them
comforting. I forced myself to keep moving,
to finish setting up camp. The fire helped a little, its
flickering light chasing back the worst of the shadows.
I made dinner, sat by the flames and tried to convince myself I
was just being paranoid, but the woods around me stayed silent.
Too silent. Even the crackle of the fire
felt intrusive, like it didn't belong here.
As the night deepened, I retreated to my tent, zipping
myself inside and keeping my hatchet within arm's reach.
I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I heard it.
The faintest sound of snow crunching outside.
Not constant, not even regular, just an occasional deliberate
step. I held my breath, heart
pounding, straining to listen. Maybe it was an animal, maybe it
was nothing, But then it circled.
Whatever it was, it moved slowly around my camp, pausing every so
often before taking another step.
My throat tightened as I gripped the hatchet, praying it would go
away. Eventually the sound faded, and
I told myself I'd imagined it, but I didn't sleep.
When the first light of dawn crept through the fabric of my
tent, I packed up as quickly as I could.
The clearing that had seemed so perfect the evening before now
felt suffocating, the trees around it pressing in too close.
As I hoisted my pack and glanced back at the circle of broken
branches, I felt that I'd made a mistake coming here.
A big one. The morning light didn't bring
the relief I'd hoped for. If anything, it only made the
clearing feel stranger, more sinister.
The pale sunlight filtered through the trees in weak beams,
casting long, sharp shadows that stretched across the snow.
I couldn't stop my eyes from darting to the edges of the
clearing, scanning the tree line for movement.
There was nothing, but that didn't ease the gnawing unease
in my gut. I was ready to leave every
instinct screaming at me, to put as much distance as I could
between myself and whatever had circled my tent during the
night. But then I remembered the
trench, that shallow groove in the snow, the one that had
veered off the trail and disappeared into the trees.
I should have ignored it, should have just turned around and gone
home. But curiosity got the better of
me. That, and the nagging feeling
that if I didn't see where it LED, it would follow me.
I followed the trench, each step slow and deliberate, my boots
crunching in the snow. The forest felt different now,
closer, darker, the trees pressing in like silent
onlookers. The trench twisted and curved,
leading me deeper into the woods, where the snow was
undisturbed except for the strange, deliberate path carved
into it. I tried not to think about what
could have made it, or why it didn't leave any other tracks.
The clearing was small, almost hidden, and the first thing that
caught my eye was the framework. It stood in the center like a
macabre centerpiece, rough wooden beams lashed together
with strips of cloth and rope, forming a crude, angular
structure. It reminded me of a hunting
blind, but there was no purpose to it, no logic.
The angles were all wrong, as if whoever built it didn't know or
didn't care what they were making.
Around the framework. The ground was littered with
debris. Broken shards of glass glittered
in the snow, reflecting the weak sunlight like jagged teeth.
There were bones too, small ones, likely animal, but gnawed
clean in a way that made my stomach churn.
And then there was the boot. Just one, lying on its side,
half buried in the snow. It was old, the leather cracked
and stiff, but it didn't look like it had been there long
enough to freeze solid. I moved closer, my breath
clouding the air in short, shallow bursts.
The snow beneath the framework was packed down, as if something
had been dragged or stomped there repeatedly.
I felt that it wasn't just the framework itself that was wrong.
This whole clearing felt off, like I was standing in a place
that didn't belong to me or anyone.
The trees around the clearing weren't any better.
Their bark was scarred with strange carvings, spirals,
jagged lines, crude stick figures.
Some were small and faint, others, deep and violent, gouged
into the wood as if in a frenzy. I snapped a few pictures with my
phone, my hands trembling as I tried to focus.
My pulse was hammering in my ears, drowning out the eerie
silence. I didn't stay long.
The air in the clearing felt heavy, like it was pressing
against me, urging me to leave. I turned and followed the trench
back to my camp, my legs moving faster with each step.
By the time I saw my tent again, I was practically jogging, but
what greeted me stopped me cold. My camp was destroyed.
My tent lay on its side, the fabric slashed open and half
buried in the snow. My food bag had been torn apart,
its contents scattered and mangled.
My water bottles were punctured, their icy remains pooled in the
snow like small frozen lakes. Tracks surrounded the site, big
ones, larger than any humans but strangely uneven, as if whatever
had made them alternated between walking upright and crawling on
all fours. The final blow was the tree.
The one I'd camped closest to now bore a fresh carving, larger
and more detailed than the ones I'd seen in the clearing.
It was a spiral, jagged and deep, the lines overlapping and
crossing in a way that made my headache just to look at it.
It hadn't been there the night before.
My throat went dry as I realized what that meant.
Whoever or whatever had been circling my tent wasn't just
passing by. It had been here, watching.
I didn't even bother packing properly.
I grabbed what I could, shoving it into my pack with shaking
hands. My knife stayed in my other
hand, clenched so tightly that my fingers started to cramp.
Every snap of a branch, every gust of wind, sent my heart
racing as I started the trek back to my truck.
The trail felt longer this time, the forest darker, the air
colder. The silence was no longer just
heavy. It was suffocating, pressing in
on all sides like a living thing.
And then the noises started. Faint at first, like the crunch
of snow far behind me, but they grew louder, closer, and less
like footsteps. It wasn't steady.
It was erratic, uneven, punctuated by low, guttural
sounds that sent terror through me.
I kept walking, refusing to look back, but the noises didn't
stop. A cold sweat soaked through my
layers as I pushed myself faster, each step feeling
heavier than the last. At one point, I caught movement
out of the corner of my eye, a tall, hunched shape weaving
between the trees. When I turned my head, it was
gone. By the time I reached my truck,
I was running. My breath came in ragged gasps
as I fumble with the keys, my numb fingers struggling to
unlock the door. As I threw myself into the
driver's seat and started the engine, I heard it.
A loud crashing sound, like something big barreling through
the trees behind me. I didn't wait to see what it
was. I tore down the icy Rd. the
tires skidding and my headlights barely cutting through the gloom
in the rearview mirror. Just for a second, I saw it.
A figure standing at the edge of the forest, Too tall, too thin,
with glowing eyes that burned like embers.
I didn't stop driving until I was miles away, the trees
thinning in the sky, brightening.
Be careful out there.