That evening, we all gathered around the campfire, passing
around snacks, and trading, random jokes.
When my friend settled in a cross from me normally he was
one of the livelier. Folks, always laughing, always
ready with a comeback. But that night his face looked
drawn, and he kept tapping his foot on the dirt.
Like he was working up the nerve, to say something I waited
because whatever. Had him on edge was no silly.
Ghost story. He started by explaining a bit
about his LDS mission, how it covered a broad area, including
a reservation that he didn't visit often.
Truth be told, none of us were expecting more than a mile
anecdote. then he lets slip that, this reservation region
had an eerie reputation among the locals We all went quiet,
even the ones who had been whispering or fiddling with
their phones. Something about his tone felt
heavier than any cheap, campfire tale.
He cleared his throat and told us about a day, he and His
companion had to travel far out of their normal route.
They met some new investigators who wanted to learn about the
faith and that part went smoothly.
The real trouble started after. When they discovered, they were
nearly out of gas, nobody was around to help.
So they sat there in a stretch of nothingness, until someone
finally came by with a spare can of fuel By the time they were on
the road. Again, the sky was dark and the
roads were almost deserted he paused to stare into the Flames,
recalling every detail. It was late and His companion
had fallen asleep in the passenger seat.
My friend had one goal, get them both home as fast as possible.
He even admitted to pushing the speed limit.
He figured the biggest worry was Wildlife or a straight deer
darting across his path. But that changed fast.
He said that while driving along these unfamiliar back roads, he
kept spotting movement in the edges of the headlights.
At first he brushed it off, probably Coyote's.
Maybe a raccoon then something shifted right next to his window
much closer than he expected. he glanced down thinking, he would
see an animal scurrying by Instead he slammed on the brakes
practically launching His companion, forward against the
dashboard. His companion, jolted awake with
a startled. Shout demanding an explanation.
All my friend could manage was pray right now.
He wouldn't, or maybe couldn't say why just yet.
Instead, he forced the car forward again, driving the rest
of the way in tight-lipped silence.
His companion, kept pestering him, but my friends stayed
locked on the road acting. Like if he spoke something worse
might happen, he made it back to their apartment complex with
nerves and shreds, once they were parked His companion
cornered him. That's when everything poured
out. He had glanced down to see
several figures human in shape, but sprinting on all fours
running, right? Beside the car somehow matching,
his speed at 40 miles an hour, he insisted he wasn't joking.
They were not animals or some optical illusion though.
Part of him wished that's all it had been.
We were all dead silent around the fire.
The only sound was the pop and crackle of burning wood, That
image six or so, people Galloping alongside a moving
vehicle was too bizarre to dismiss.
I almost expected someone to laugh and call it a prank but no
one did the look on his face told us.
He was dead serious. He went on to say that this was
only the start even after that night.
He couldn't shake the memory. It hovered in his mind every
time he drove those roads again and apparently future visits to
the reservation area would bring more encounters.
But he saved those parts for later.
At that point, he was wrapping up what he called the late night
detour. I don't think anyone blinked
until he stopped talking. Eventually somebody tossed more
wood on the fire but the mood around.
It had changed. We all felt it and uneasy sense
that maybe there are things out there best left.
Unexplained The night grew quieter and we sat there a long
time, wishing we could forget the image of those shapes
pounding, the pavement on all fours, keeping perfect pace.
I got transferred to a small town near the reservation, and
the thought of going back to that area, put me on edge but an
assignment was an assignment. My new companion and I drove out
to this old trailer where we'd be bunking for a few nights.
The place sat on a lonely stretch of land with a single
flickering streetlight that barely cut through the dark.
I kept telling myself it'd be fine.
Just a couple nights then we'd move on still.
My nerves were shot. Our first evening, we turned in
early, the wind whistled against the trailer walls and the place
rattled. Like it hadn't seen a repairman
in years. I tried to close my eyes and let
the home of the old heater lull me to sleep.
But at around 2 in the morning, a knock erupted from the front
door, not a polite knock, either more like a steady, insistent
thumping. My companion and I both bolted
upright. We figured maybe a local needed
help. So I flicked on the porch, light
and opened the door. Just a crack.
Nobody absolutely no one was there.
I stepped out scanning the immediate area but the single
street light couldn't push back all the darkness.
My companion, stood behind me. Looking spooked.
And we decided whoever it was must have run off.
We went back inside locked up and tried to settle down again.
Minutes later, The Knocks returned this time from The Far
Side of the trailer. Something about it.
Felt wrong rhythmic, almost like it was playing a game with us.
I crept around to the living area window.
I peered out half expecting a coyote or stray, dog.
But the shapes, I glimpsed moving beyond the trailer were
taller standing upright at times then dropping to all fours.
My heart hammered, as I thought of the night, I'd seen those
figures keeping Pace with my car.
It was like, they'd found me again.
The rest of the night was miserable.
We barricaded the door and kept every light on.
In the morning, the sun revealed footprints, in the dirt,
circling the trailer, some clearly human others space.
Oddly like a person had been crawling on hands and feet
neither of us knew what to make of it.
But we decided not to linger any longer than necessary.
A few days later, we had to drive a local church member
home. She lived near another patch of
forest, on the outskirts of the reservation.
My companion and I exchanged worried looks when we realized
how remote it was, but we had a job to do.
So, we piled in the car and took off the woman, sat in the
backseat chatting, cheerily to pass the time, and I tried to
focus on the conversation instead of staring into the
woods even. So I caught shapes flitting
between the trees and my peripheral vision.
At one point, the woman fell silent she leaned, forward
touched my shoulder and told me to slow down, her voice was
hushed, like she didn't want whatever was out there to hear.
Confused. I eased off the gas.
Then she pointed through the window.
And I spotted something dark and human-shaped crouched between
two thick tree. Trunks watching us its limbs
seemed a long gated or bent at awkward angles.
We pulled over uncertain whether to drive away or see if someone
needed help. the woman started whispering about local Legends,
stories of entities roaming these Woods blending Between
Worlds, My companion looked at me jaw tight, clearly recalling
The Knocks from the other night. Before any of us could decide
what to do. That shape melted back into the
darkness. the woman clutched, the seed and said, please just
go. She sounded terrified like,
she'd seen this before and it was dangerous.
We dropped her off a little while later and she thanked us,
but refused to elaborate further.
When we got out to stretch our legs I noticed fresh dirt
smeared across the back door and trunk shape's almost like
handprints with fingers too long to be normal.
My mind raced back to the figures outside, the trailer
where they stalking us now My final few nights in that region.
I visited a family who insisted I stay over because of an
incoming storm. Their house was a bit sturdier
than the trailer. So I thought, maybe I would feel
safer my companion. And I each took a spare caught
in a small guest room. The storm rolled in with Gusty
winds and flashes of lightning. That gave me a headache.
Every time they lit up the window.
Close to midnight a shrill whistle.
Broke the quiet. It started low in Pitch stopping
abruptly only to start again a few seconds later, like someone
out there was calling out in a strange repeating pattern.
I sat up and my companion mumbled, should we check that?
Every instinct told me, no, but something about the whistle
seemed urgent. Maybe someone was in trouble.
The two of us headed to the back door.
The moment I opened it. The whistling ceased.
In that Split Second of Silence, I heard movement near the
half-broken fence. Bolts of lightning Flair to
cross. The sky revealing, a silhouette
crouched in the mud, it moved slowly along the fence line.
Then darted away. When the next lightning strike
came. My companion and I just stood
there, two rattled to speak. We hurried back inside locked,
everything and spent the rest of the storm.
Listening for more whistles. None came.
By daylight we found the fence torn at one corner.
Wood splintered and claw marks raking across it.
Like something had tried to climb over or tear it down.
Our hosts were shaken saying they'd never seen anything like
that. They asked if it had anything to
do with the reservation stories, they'd heard growing up but we
couldn't give a real answer. All we had were scattered
glimpses of figures like some group or presents that appeared
whenever we got too close to the reservation at night.
Or maybe they were following us drawn by something we'd done or
seen. I left that small town feeling
more uneasy than ever like the land itself.
Held secrets, we weren't equipped to understand.
And every so often I still wonder whether those knocks that
shadow and that Eerie whistle were connected to the shapes.
I first saw running beside my car.
Practically defying all logic. So then we'd only seen the tip
of whatever lurked in that dark stretch of forest.
The final, stretch of my mission came quicker than I expected.
And part of me was relieved, the higher ups asked me to revisit
one last family, living near the reservation boundary.
Someone who needed a final lesson and blessing.
The thought of returning so close to that place rattled my
nerves. But I kept telling myself, it
was only for a few hours. Then I would be clear of it.
I packed up the car tossed in my notes and some water and tried
to ignore the knot in my stomach.
When we arrived dusk was already claiming the sky.
The family was friendly though. They looked a bit uneasy about
my presents. They told me of nearby Farmers
finding livestock missing or malled and how strange noises at
them awake for days on end. Their stories, mirrored
everything that had happened to me.
Footsteps in the dark shapes, racing through the fields and
something out there that felt almost sentient.
Regardless, I stayed focused on my purpose.
I prayed with them offered what Comfort I could and prepared to
head out before the worst of the night set in My new companion
insisted we drive straight through, no stops, no detours.
We stuck to the plan but somewhere between the family's
house and the main Highway. We plunged into a long narrow
road that wound through a forest at Halo.
The headlights created jumping Shadows that didn't look quite
natural. My hands were shaking on the
wheel. So I forced myself to breathe
steady. As we rounded a bend, the radio
cutout replaced by Static. That's when the shapes appeared.
There were at least three Silhouettes loping along the
side of the road more fluid than any normal stride.
Even at a solid clip, they seemed to keep up easily.
My companion. Whispered, a prayer voice
trembling I gave the engine more gas hoping distance might scare
them off but they only Drew closer.
One of them hunched low launched itself into the path of the
headlights. Like it wanted to force us to
stop its eyes shown unnaturally bright for a split second I
locked eyes with it a moment. So over that I nearly slammed on
the breaks. Somehow I felt a surge of
determination. Maybe it was months of dealing
with these encounters or maybe it was the faith.
I'd been pouring into every prayer.
Instead of stopping, I hit the gas.
The figure jerked back almost as though it couldn't withstand
that direct challenge. We roared past and gained speed
on the open road. Behind us.
The shapes scattered into the tree line slipping out of the
headlights reach. My heart thundered, but relief
washed through me, we'd made it past without letting them trap
us. When we merge onto the main
Highway the tension broke, I glanced in the rearview mirror,
half expecting to see those figures sprinting along the
shoulder, but there was only empty asphalt.
My companion. Looked pale eyes, darting from
side to side though. His shoulders slowly relaxed.
After we finally made it back to our apartment, we sat in silence
for a while replaying every instant of that drive.
Neither of us knew exactly what we'd encountered, but we'd stood
our ground and come out on the other side.
In the following weeks, I finished my mission and returned
home a sense of relief settled over me though, I still caught
myself scanning dark roads whenever I drove at night.
Eventually I shared the entire story around a campfire with
some close friends. Telling it felt like a final,
exhale, like I was unloading a wait.
I'd carried far too long. Whether those shapes were people
Legends or something, unexplainable, I no longer felt
haunted by the question of why they'd show up or what they
wanted. My only hope was that by
speaking of it, I could warn others not to take the back
roads. So lightly If you ever find
yourself out there under a waning moon, remember to stay
alert. Sometimes all it takes is Faith
or sheer will to keep going and to remind whatever lurks in the
darkness that you're no easy prey.
I've heard this story from my roommate more times than I would
like to admit, but every time he shares it, my nerves, go on high
alert, it all started in a phoenix suburb where he used to
do his late night drives usually around three or four in the
morning. he loves the Silence of those roads, the kind of
emptiness, that feels strangely peaceful at least it used to The
first encounter sounded almost too bizarre to be real.
He was driving along a dimly-lit street empty Fields.
Stretching out on the left, like a sea of dark silhouettes.
Suddenly a figure on all fours came bolting out of that field.
It wasn't a coyote or a stray dog.
My roommate swears it had a simian shape with long limbs
that moved way too fast to be normal.
Its entire body was this deep black, the kind that almost
Blends into the Shadows but its face.
Stark white like fresh snow. He said it had human features
without any expression. The things sprinted across the
road pause with abrupt precision and twisted.
Its head to stare straight at him and just like that it
disappeared into the darkness. He kept driving, not sure if his
brain was playing tricks but he kept replaying that horrifying
image of the white mask like face burned into his memory.
A few weeks later, he was on the same stretch of asphalt this
time with a friend in the passenger seat.
They were probably talking about random stuff to stay awake when
they notice something crouched in a tree up ahead.
At first, it looked like a lump or a bunch of leaves until it
moved. The second they got close.
The figure clamber down the tree with inhuman, speed.
The friend started yelling convinced.
They had just seen something completely unnatural.
It bounded across the road spun around and locked eyes on them
again with that cold white face. My roommate turned the car
around in a frenzy, determined to find it, or at least prove it
was real. But the roads and Fields were
silent no movement, no clue. The friend refused to drive back
that way for weeks, that was supposed to be the end of it.
Two freaking counters in the middle of nowhere but things
only got worse. One night, my roommate was
coming back from a late shift and decided to avoid that same
road going a longer route in Stead.
Midway through as he was passing by a fenced off construction
site. He spotted movement in his
rearview mirror. Something was in the distance
bounding at an unnatural speed. Half hunched over, like it was
ready to leap. He slammed the brakes, hoping he
was just tired and seeing shadows.
The figure came closer its shape illuminated by a flickering
streetlight. And it had that same black fur
and pale face. He didn't stick around to see
more, he floored the gas and took off.
When he finally glanced back, the road was empty again.
A few days after that, I got a call from him at around, 4:00 in
the morning, he was practically yelling into the phone, telling
me to get outside immediately with a flashlight.
I stepped onto our front yard, bracing for whatever had him.
So worked up a minute later, his car screeched up to the curb.
He jumped out and said he'd spotted the creature skulking
around a block away from our house.
We started patrolling the neighborhood, adrenaline driving
us to do something that in hindsight might have been a bad
idea. After half an hour, we rounded a
corner near a small playground. The area was lit by just one
Street Lamp. And we both swear.
We saw a dark shape perched on top of the swing set craning its
head as if it was surveying the quiet streets.
Then like it since our presence it crouched low and dropped to
the ground in a swift fluid motion.
That same Gastly, white face appeared for just a heartbeat
before it vanished behind a neighboring fence.
We ran over Hearts pounding but found nothing but the faint
rustle of the Desert Breeze. The 5th time.
It appeared at least the 5th time he can save for certain, it
was near that same open field, where the story began My
roommate thought it might be wise to confront his fear
head-on. So he parked on the shoulder of
that Lonely. Road engine, idling headlights
pointed toward the tall grass. He walked out with a powerful
flashlight scanning the dark for any sign of movement.
Maybe he hoped the creature wouldn't show and that he'd be
able to tell himself. It had all been in his head. but
as he swept the light, across the field, something moved A
shape rose up slowly hunched, but distinctly powerful.
In the wash of his Flash Light Beam, he caught that same
contrast black body white human like face.
And then it sprinted straight for the fence line that
bordered, the field leaping over the chain link.
Like it was no obstacle at all. My roommate froze, half thinking
he might Chase it but reason kicked in and he got back in his
car and tore out of there every time he recounts these episodes.
He swears he is wide awake and sober.
He talks about the way. The creature seems to appear and
vanish. At will leaving no Trace except
the sense of dread that lingers for hours.
Every now and then he wonders if it's some messed up prank or
elaborate cost him, but nothing explains the way.
It moves like gravity barely applies.
And that face. So deathly white and
human-looking stays burned into his memory.
We've considered setting up night vision cameras or getting
more people to stake out the area.
But honestly, we're not sure we even want to find out what's
lurking out there. My roommate isn't someone prone
to Flights of Fancy which makes the stories even more chilling.
His friend, the one who freaked out in the passenger seat won't
even talk about it anymore. And I'm left wondering if it's
only a matter of time before more folks around Phoenix, start
seeing that same Eerie figure Crossing roads at impossible
speeds, pause pausing, just long enough to make that unnerving.
I contact Because if there's one thing I've learned from hearing
his tales, it's that what we don't understand out here in the
dark, might be a lot closer than we want to believe.
I was about eight or nine when my family made the annual trip
to our Kickapoo Homeland in a remote part of Mexico.
This was something we did every year a time when relatives from
Oklahoma Texas and Kansas all converged on my grandmother's
land for important traditions. Tana's property sprawled at the
base of a forbidden mountain range that everyone treated with
serious caution people, said those mountains, could twist
your mind. If you ventured too far up,
without the right protections. Anyway, Tana kept too small
houses on her land. The old house was sealed tight
metal bars over windows. That didn't open steel doors,
all to keep out the wandering animals or thieves, who might
Prowl when nobody was around. The new house had the same bars,
but you could swing the windows open which was a luxury in the
scorching Heat. My mother Nita and father a
Towhee set my two sisters, Alma and Winona and me up in the old
house. While my aunt Wenonah and Uncle
Sammy took their kids HOSA and Lonna to the new house.
Another set of cousins Chitto. And Saia were also around
somewhere on the property, helping with daily tasks or
helping Tana, prepare for Ceremony, we were used to the
darkness out there but every time we arrived, it still felt
like entering another world. No streetlights for Miles, just
Inky Blackness when the sun went down. the only real light might
come from our truck's headlights or maybe a small campfire, if we
were lucky Without that you couldn't see more than a few
inches in front of your face. on this particular night, the air
was muggy and still In the old house, the windows were shut
tight. So we just tried to fall asleep
in that stale Heat. After a long day of chores and
traveling we drifted off easily enough.
Then in the middle of the night, we were jolted awake by someone
screaming. It turned out to be HOSA, who
was two years younger than me. He was in the new house and his
voice tore through the silence like an alarm. groggy and
annoyed I scrambled to a window only to see my father, normally,
calm and imposing Russian and tell us kids to stay put I
remember crossing the dark room stepping over scattered
belonging as I hurried to the barred window?
Outside. The moon gave off just enough
glow to reveal Silhouettes. Hurrying around with
flashlights. My aunt Wenonah looked frantic
pointing toward the fence line. While my uncle Sonny and a few
older cousins, combed the property scanning the ground for
signs of an intruder. They seem genuinely worried
which made my chest tighten. Why would they be so alarmed?
If this was just some bad dream, the adults were up until
Daybreak but eventually my sister's and I crashed.
Again, two exhausted to stay vigilant.
When the sun rose, I cornered Hoss's older brother Lona to see
what was going on. He said HOSA had dozed off near
an open window in the new house. At some point, something brushed
his face. He woke to see an old pale woman
pressing. Her head Between the Bars her
long gray hair. Nearly touching his cheek She
was staring down at him. Smiling hosta, panicked, and
screamed his head off. Sending everyone into a frenzy.
I admit I was skeptical out there.
Your mind can play tricks on you in the pitch black darkness but
Lona insisted that hosta was certain he'd seen a real person
feeling unsettled I tracked down another older cousin Cheeto who
had scoured the grounds with a flash light he told me they'd
found Footprints by every window on his property Prince that led
toward the mountains whoever the stranger was, she had circled
both houses and total darkness bare feet in the Rocky dirt,
Just the idea that someone could be roaming out there under that
Sky, not even stumbling in the dark made my stomach twists.
And that was only the beginning. Later that week, a few of us
kids were supposed to gather kindling for a late-night fire.
My sister AMA and I walked along a narrow Trail beside the new
house, picking up dried branches.
We heard a rustle like someone trudging through brush, just
beyond the fence. Am a froze eyes wide.
But I told her it was probably just a stray animal.
We didn't see anything, but the air felt charged with tension.
We headed back sooner than planned arms, loaded with
sticks. that same night, my aunt, Winona swore, she caught a
glimpse of a figure standing at the fence, she thought it might
have been a neighbor dropping by on an ounce but no one answered
when she called out. She took a few steps closer and
said, whoever or what ever, it was disappeared almost instantly
after that. She refused to let anyone wander
off without a companion. The third night, I overheard
tana and my mother speaking quietly.
They mentioned that sighting of an old woman had happened before
years back, but those stories never got told to children, It
sounded like people had spotted her skulking near Windows
muttering, in a low voice, or sometimes, just standing at the
edge of the property watching from the Shadows.
According to Tana those mountains, harbored spirits.
That thrived on fear and isolation If this woman came
from there, it meant something. Dangerous was drifting down from
the Peaks onto our land. On the fourth night, a group of
us tried to sleep in the old house feeling weirdly safer with
the windows locked. My sister Winona.
Always the Bold one stayed up reading by Lantern light.
Around midnight. She said she heard slow
scratching noises on the outside wall, like fingernails scraping
metal. She snuffed the Lantern and
pressed herself against the window trying to see in the
faint Moonlight. She thought she caught a shape,
limping away, a hunched figure with stringy hair that glinted
silver. She told me she wanted to run
outside to check but a sudden wave of dread pinned her where
she was by now. People were on edge.
Cheetos stayed up through the night patrolling with a flash
light and an old hunting rifle. Uncle Sammy started lighting,
protective herbs around the perimeter, a practice, some of
our elders do to keep negative forces at Bay.
Tana barely slept busy. Guiding a different part of our
extended family through their ceremonies during the day.
Then worrying about the Intruder after dark.
The final straw came on our last evening there.
Another cousin Saia was in the new house, helping with some
cooking when she saw a pale hand grip.
One of the barred windows for a moment.
Sia, let out a startled. Shout dropped a pot on the
ground and ran to get help. By the time, we all rushed in
flash, light sweeping every corner scanning around the
outside, the Intruder was gone. But muddy hands remained on the
wall beneath that window. Smearing downward as if someone
had clung there for a few seconds watching In the dawn,
light uncle Sonny, found a fresh set of footprints that led away
from the new house through the scrub and straight up into the
foothills. when we followed them a short way, we noticed small
patches of disturbed earth like whoever it was dragged their
feet, We didn't dare go farther without a proper ceremony, Tana
insisted. We leave it alone.
She said some places have a hunger for fear and if you
wander in unprepared you might find exactly whats been feeding
on it. We left the property a day
earlier than planned. None of us wanted to linger,
especially with the children. So rattled in the adults tense,
all the time. On the drive, back to the main
road hours of bumpy, dirt paths before, even seeing a single
highway I sat quietly replaying everything in my head.
It was more than just Footprints and a glimpse of someone's face.
It felt like the land itself was unsettled like old energies from
the mountains had slithered down to toy with us.
Years later. I asked my mother.
Why everyone accepted Hostess story so readily.
She reminded me that these sightings were not new.
Some Elders believed to Spirit from the mountains, took on that
old woman, shape and ventured down to peer into Windows or
creep across fences targeting families, who let their guard
down. Knowing weed, found Footprints
all around, both houses, made it impossible to dismiss it as a
child's nightmare. Even now I don't love talking
about it. I don't go back to Mexico often
and when I do, I stay in as old house with the windows sealed
up, Relative still speak of a pale figure who prowls around
occasionally especially during those large Gatherings.
When people are too occupied to notice who, or what might be
sneaking around in the dark. Sometimes I catch myself
wondering. If there's something in the
mountains, something that can wear a human face for a night,
just to remind us, it's still there.
The thought alone, makes me reluctant to glance out a window
after dark as if I half expect to see that chilling smile.
Right on the other side of the bars.
I remember how the house felt too big that evening despite how
cramped it usually was. You'd think having two brothers
around, would make me feel safer but it was just us against this
uneasy Vibe creeping into every corner.
Normally we'd all be at the dinner with the rest of the
family laughing eating and celebrating instead we got stuck
tending sheep and the place fellow with without our parents
voices, echoing off, those mudstone walls It started with
the dogs out. They barked in this erratic way
like they couldn't decide if they were afraid or Fury
serious. My older brother said it was
probably Coyote's. My younger brother half agreed
but I caught him staring at the door a bit too long.
Like he wasn't convinced either. Me, I acted like nothing was
wrong, but I was lying to myself.
After dinner, we tried to settle down for the night.
The idea was to keep things normal.
We checked the Sheep through the window found all of them in the
pen. Then bolted the door.
But the dogs wouldn't let up, they'd be quiet one second, then
start yelping and growling like someone stepped into their
territory. I remember pacing the length of
the house from the old wood stove to the window, while my
brothers pretended to doze off. My younger brother teased, quit
being so jumpy, but the flicker in his eyes told me, he wasn't
feeling calm either. Eventually, I guess I just
forced myself to lie down. The rush of Silence that
followed was almost worse than the Barking.
It was like a switch had been flipped and the dog's decided to
clam up. All at once my mind raced with
possibilities, maybe the dog said off, whatever had them so
worked up, or maybe they lost interest and wandered off.
But each thought incomplete so I laid there staring at the low
ceiling, my stomach twisting with a kind of dread, I couldn't
explain at some point exhaustion took over and I drifted into a
Restless sleep. A while later.
I woke up with a start realizing I needed the Outhouse.
Of course, there was no way I was going out there alone in the
dark so, I nudged my brother awake and he gave me this smirk
that said really You're scared of the dark like a little kid.
If it weren't for my pounding nerves, I might have snapped
back at him but instead I just told him to bring the
flashlight. Stepping outside was like
walking into a vacuum. The moon was out but it wasn't
helping my nerves at all. The Sheep were still huddled
near the fence and not a single dog was visible.
I could practically taste the tension in the air.
We crept toward the Outhouse, The Flash Light Beam darting
across the ground, and throwing wild Shadows on the stone walls.
My brother still grinning at my anxiety.
Disappeared inside, leaving me standing there, feeling more
exposed. By the second, that's when the
dog started up again except it wasn't the usual barking.
It was Furious. I turned toward the sagebrush,
my flash light picking out random shape's and suddenly one
of the dogs made a scream like noise.
Something I'd never heard before.
A second later, everything cut off again.
Know howling. No rustling.
Not even the sound of sheep, my mouth went dry and I gripped
that flash light. Like, it was my only life line
in the sudden. Hush, I noticed a figure at the
truck leaning casually with an armed on the cab. it was too
tall to be any normal person, face chalk white under the moon
eyes that burned red even from where I stood, My heart hammered
in my chest, as I watched it kick one of our dogs, just
lashed out, sending the poor thing bolting away.
All the other scattered like they'd met the Devil Himself.
Then that figure turned and fixed its Gaze on me for a few
agonizing moments. I felt like I was breathing in
tar. Everything around me pulsed,
with a crimson Haze and a nauseating.
Rotting smell rolled over me. I lost any sense of time.
Suddenly, I heard my brother step out fussing with his belt
buckle. The creature shifted its
attention to him. Giving me just enough of a jolt
to realize. I wasn't going to let it get to
my brother. Something raw and Furious took
over inside me. I roared at least that's what
I'd call it now and charge like a half crazed animal.
I saw the thing Flinch, the horrific grin melt off its face
and it sprang away into the darkness.
We dashed back into the house, slam the door and jammed a piece
of wood across it. Neither of us.
Spoke just stood there with our breath rough and uneven waiting
for some sign. It was gone for good. but
silence was all we got Eventually, my younger brother
collapsed on his sleeping bag in shock.
And I found myself perched by the window fighting the urge to
cry or scream or both. The night dragged on lit, only
by our single Lantern as we tried to convince ourselves that
morning would fix everything. I couldn't shake the idea that
this wasn't over, not by a long shot and honestly I wasn't sure
we could handle what was to come if that thing decided to come
back for more. But we had no choice Dawn.
Would either bring answers or it wouldn't.
All I knew was, I had never forget how quickly fear could
mutate into that kind of raw desperate anger and how the
quiet of that night, broken only by a single flash light's Beam.
Made everything feel way too real morning arrived, but the
sunlight didn't bring much relief.
My brothers and I stumbled around exhausted, trying to
pretend everything was normal. Part of me, just wanted to sit
and wait for our folks to come back.
Instead, we had chores, to handle our sheep needed 10.00
and I couldn't help feeling. Every step outside was a gamble.
My older brother kept pacing, the front room eyes flicking to
the windows, the younger one, hovered near the door peering
through narrow cracks. I busied myself with feeding the
few animals. We had penned up close to the
house Even that routine felt off somehow the dogs normally eager
to follow along stuck under the porch.
Instead letting out low uneasy growls, whenever I passed As the
day, went on my nerves stayed Raw.
The memory of that creatures grin and those burning eyes.
Seemed stamped into the back of my mind.
None of us wanted to admit. We were spooked but we couldn't
hide how jumpy we were. At one point, a board creaked
under our feet and my younger brother dropped a tin Bowl.
The clang echoing through the house like a warning eventually
we realized we couldn't just hunker down forever.
We needed to check the sheep and see if anything had happened
overnight. I slung a water jug over my
shoulder. My brothers, grabbed their own
gear and we trudged out into the yard, the dog's didn't join us.
Out back the first thing we spotted were Footprints.
They were huge and oddly shaped pressed deep into the ground as
if someone heavy or something had passed through, Some looked
smeared like it dragged its feet or maybe moved on all fours.
We stood there, heart pounding, exchanging, uneasy glances Part
of me wished. They were just boot prints from
a random trespasser but they were spaced too far apart for
that. I heard a soft whistle from my
brother and he pointed at the Corral Fence.
A piece of wood was splintered near the top, which would take a
ridiculous amount of force. My older brother started
muttering that we had to do something but the younger one
shook his head. What are we gonna do?
Chase it. We both knew that wasn't
happening. By midday, the sky was a glaring
blue yet. The tensions still felt thick.
My older brother decided we should look in on the flock.
A couple of sheep were missing. Probably just straight, I told
myself. We couldn't risk losing them
though so we set off across the dusty yard heading for the low
Hills, where they usually wandered.
The path out there was marked by scattered Sagebrush and rough
rocks. Our best dog, the one that
usually helped us heard followed at a distance we called to it
but it refused to come any closer.
My older brother got frustrated, but we both knew the dog wasn't
spooked without a reason. We finally spotted the missing
sheep along a shallow Ravine. Huddled by a scraggly bush.
As we approached movement, caught my eye, there was a shape
leaning into the Shadows. Almost blending with the
landscape. When it turned, I recognized
that same pale face though, the daylight made it look even more
unnatural. Black lines ran across its
features and the grin Twisted into something worse than a
smirk. My younger brother shouted, the
creature suddenly stretched tall moving, its arms and legs at
angles that defied reason the Sheep bald in fear.
Stumbling away. I stood there hard in my throat
as it looked directly at us. My older brother grabbed a rock,
hurling it in desperation. The thing, jerked aside, and
vanished in a blink slinking behind a ridge.
By the time we got closer, it was long gone but it left
behind. Two, trembling sheep.
Each bearing. Deep scratches like claws had
raped them. We rushed the wounded animals
back home, trying not to jostle them too much.
Blood spotted, the ground with each step.
I glanced over my shoulder convinced that figure might
appear again. It felt like we were trespassing
on territory. We had no business being in even
though this land was ours. Back at the house, we patched
the Sheep as best as three kids could manage.
The sun started dipping painting, the sky and gold and
purple streaks. Normally Sundown would be a
relief after a day of work. Now, it just felt like a
countdown, if we could encounter that thing in broad daylight,
who knew what Nightfall would bring by the time.
Darkness crept in, we had the windows blocked with old
blankets and anything else we could find The dogs finally
ventured inside trembling and refusing to leave our sides.
My brothers and I huddled around a single lamp.
The glow, barely cutting through the rooms corners.
We took turns checking out side. Pressing our faces to the glass.
Every time we looked we braced ourselves for a glimpse of that
pale face. Hours passed with no clear sign
at some point, the silence seemed heavier than anything
else. Each of us was waiting for the
next Hora to show up, trying to hold on to some slim.
Hope our folks would return soon.
I remember how the night are slipped through the cracks in
the walls carrying a child that settled into my bones.
I hated feeling helpless, but I also couldn't deny how real are
situation was. After what we saw out in the
Corral those Footprints the shredded fence.
Those scratches on the sheep, I had no Illusions anymore.
Something was hunting around our place.
Prowling in the daylight and using the night as a cloak.
And as we sat Lantern flickering, I began to sense.
We'd only Glimpse to fraction of what it was capable of.
Night came again and we felt the weight of it pressing down on
the house like a heavy blanket. Earlier that afternoon my
brothers and I had sworn we weren't stepping outside until
our family got back. None of us could shake the dread
crawling inside our heads, especially after seeing that
thing slithering around the sheep and broad daylight.
Now, the sun was gone and the Shadows outside seemed alive.
We double checked the locks on every door and window.
My older brother managed to find a couple of makeshift weapons,
an old crowbar, a heavy iron rod and put them by the entrance.
None of us had any clue if they'd actually work against
something so unnatural, but it was better than feeling totally
helpless. The dogs pressed themselves into
one corner of the living room, whining, softly Tales tucked so
tight. They might as well have been
invisible. Time dragged every few seconds.
One of us would sneak a peek outside.
Parting the curtain by Justin inch bracing ourselves for a
pale face, learing back. But for a while, nothing
stirred. A whisper of Hope crept in maybe
our parents would show up soon, headlights sweeping the yard and
we'd be able to bolt out of here.
But that hope felt flimsy at best a gust of wind rattled.
The walls for a heartbeat. We all froze.
Then it went quiet again. The hush in the house was worse
than the barking dogs from the night before.
At least barking. Let us know.
They were trying to warn us this silence, it felt like the moment
before a predator strikes. When it finally happened, it
started with a dull thump against the front door.
My youngest brother jerked around eyes wide and my older
brother grabbed the crowbar, motioning for us to stay back
the dogs whimpered but didn't bark a bad sign.
If they were too afraid to make noise, we knew we were in
serious trouble, then came scraping sound slow.
And deliberate like something was testing the Integrity of the
wood. My heart pounded so hard.
I thought I'd pass out. My older brother crept forward
and peeked through a tiny crack near the door frame.
He gasped stumbling back, I moved into, take a look.
Outside pressed against our door, was that tall silhouette
even through the Gap, I could make out a faint glow of red
eyes, scanning around. Like, it could sense exactly.
Where, we stood for a moment. None of us could move.
The handle jiggled and I heard what sounded like a low hiss.
The dog's crowded even closer into the corner ears pinned
back. We were running out of time if
it kept banging like that the door wasn't going to hold.
My older brother raised the Crowbar.
Gripping it so hard. His knuckles went white.
I grabbed the iron Rod. My fingers trembling.
If this thing came in, we'd have to fight and judging by our last
encounters. Brute Force might barely slow it
down. Still, we had no other option
just when I thought we'd have to launch ourselves at that door
headlights. Blazed across the yard.
Aurora of engines, cut through the silence relief and Terrors
slammed into me at once our parents and maybe some other
relatives must have returned. But what that thing go after
them? The scraping stopped.
My younger brother darted to the window.
Letting out a shaky breath. They're here.
He whispered like he could hardly believe it.
I tugged the door, open a crack shouting for Mom and Dad.
They shouted back voices. Echoing off the house, I could
almost feel the tension lift until I glanced back and saw
that silhouette at the edge of our porch tall.
Gangly limbs white face catching the glare of the headlights.
My dad stepped out of the car eyes.
Fixed on the figure while my mom let out a cry of alarm.
I didn't think I couldn't. I just rushed forward iron rod
in hand, fear, and anger, swirling in my gut.
My brother's followed, or maybe. I just assumed they did.
It was too chaotic to be sure the creature hissed backing off
the step as we swung at it. One wild strike caught, the edge
of its shoulder. Making a sound like metal,
scraping rock it recoiled, red eyes, flashing that grotesque
grin twisting across its face. That's when my dad came,
hurtling onto the porch, raising his flash light, like a club,
The Beam swept across the things face, revealing skin, the color
of Ash lips peeled back in a sneer.
My mom was shouting in panic yelling at us to get back.
The dogs finally found their voice and barked like mad adding
to the chaos, we cornered it, but it moved with unnatural
speed twisting away before. We could fully box it in It lept
off the porch and streaked into the yard disappearing behind the
truck. I could hear the crunch of
gravel under its feet. Then nothing For a second.
I stood there in shock adrenaline buzzing in my veins.
Then I heard my dad shout in the car.
Now no one argued. We scrambled off the porch
cramming into the vehicles with barely a glance behind us.
The dogs jumped into the back, still barking ferociously.
My mom started the engine tires kicking up dust as we tore down
the dirt path. I leaned out the window for one
last. Look half expecting to see those
red eyes. Peeking through the swirling
dust. But all I caught was a flicker
of movement near the edge of the property a tall shape Vanishing
Into Darkness. We didn't stop until we were
miles away. Huddled together in a relative's
driveway under flickering porch lights.
My mom called a local Medicine Man, voice shaking as she
recounted the story. He arrived late that night
performing ceremonies with pungent herbs and Lowe's somber
chants. He warned us that some things
latch onto fear like a life source and that going back,
could provoke it. The next morning we drove home
as a group, grown-ups cousins, anyone who could help just to
grab our stuff in broad daylight.
We didn't stay long, even in the, sun's harsh glare.
The place felt charged as though, something weighted just
beyond View. Once we had the essentials, we
left that house behind without looking back.
My folks decided we couldn't live there anymore.
None of us fought that choice. It was like we'd survived a
trial by fire. Stumbling out with our lives and
a memory guaranteed to haunt us forever.
Even now I can't stop replaying the moment when that door nearly
gave way or the flash of those red eyes and the headlights We
escaped. Yeah but it never felt like a
Triumph more like a close call with something.
We were never meant to see, we never returned.
We still own the land I guess but as far as I know, it's
stayed empty left for the wind and whatever lurks there after
Dark. The van we were in had a rattly
old frame that made everything feel tense.
Whenever mom took a sharp turn. I sat near the back knees
pressed against the worn leather seat watching, the Moonlight
flicker across the dashboard. We'd been on the road for hours
weaving through the Navajo reservation on a highway that
seemed to stretch forever. Hardly any cars passed us this
late? Honestly, it felt like we were
the only people around for Miles.
Mom was in one of her moods quiet eyes fixed on the
deserted, landscape Rollin by The radio crackled switching
between static and faint country songs before she finally gave up
and turned it off. Whenever we traveled at night
like this, I'd usually bug her for a scary story.
This time I didn't even need to ask, she decided to share one of
her favorites. The night, my aunt and her
friends encountered something out in the Boondocks, the minute
she mentioned aunt's name, I perked up my aunt was the type
who laughed at danger. Always the first to dive into an
adventure. According to Mom, she was also
the person who saw the strangest things on the reservation.
Mom started describing a rundown van onto her buddy, used to take
out after dark loaded with cheap drinks and a playlist of
whatever they could blast loud enough to echo through the
desert. It sounded typical enough until
Rock started hitting the sides of their vehicle from nowhere.
I tried to imagine it. An old van squeaking down a dirt
road headlights, cutting through dust in the air, and then this
weird tapping noise from somewhere outside.
Mom said they assumed it was random debris at first something
the tires kicked up. But the way aunt told it, the
noises became more deliberate like somebody was standing out
there aiming to get their attention.
Picture that all your friends, laughing and sipping drinks.
Then everything going pin drops silent because you realize
you're not alone. Glancing out our own window, I
thought of those endless stretches of desert.
That Mom was guiding us through. It was so dark beyond the roads
Edge. You couldn't tell where the
Horizon ended. The Vans headlights revealed
scraps of brush, Jagged, rocks, and occasionally, a flicker,
that might have been an animal's eyes.
Listening, to Mom's words, I kept wondering could something
out there be watching us too. It wasn't just the story itself
that got to me, it was The Sensation that we were following
a similar path. We were all in a creaky van at
night. Making me feel uncomfortably
close to Once experienced. Mom's voice dropped when she
described how people on the reservation sometimes whispered
about skinwalkers. It wasn't a topic, anyone joked
about and no one wanted to dwell on it for too long.
Yet there we were speeding deeper into the night trading
stories about them. Like we had all the time in the
world. By the time, mom wrapped up, the
first part, where aunt, and her friends heard something land on
the roof. I found myself gripping the
armrests. So tight.
My Knuckles ache. I couldn't stop glancing at our
own ceiling half expecting a thump.
That would confirm my worst fears, Mom peeked at me through
the rearview mirror. Probably noticing, I'd gone
quiet. He said, just wait until you
hear the rest as if the scariest details were still ahead.
I tried to laugh at all, but the tension wouldn't let go of me.
We kept driving and I felt like the darkness around us was
actually pressing closer carrying Secrets.
I wasn't sure, I wanted to uncover.
Mom hinted that the real terror came when Aunt realized they
were dealing with something far beyond a casual prank or a wild
animal. Something that enjoyed lurking
in the edges of that Black Desert night.
And that was just the introduction to my aunt's story.
I braced myself for what came next.
Secretly hoping mom, might decide it was too late to keep
talking and switch to some boring conversation about
tomorrow's plans. But she didn't.
She just kept her eyes on the road and I could sense the rest
of the tale was only moments away.
As much as I dreaded it I couldn't turn back.
Now I had to hear how everything unfolded no matter how unnerving
it got Mom. Let the silence stretch for a
moment after finishing the first part of the story, keeping me on
edge. I had a feeling she wanted me to
soak in the uneasy Calm before dropping the Real Horror.
The desert outside. Our Windows had grown somehow
darker. The Horizon no longer
distinguishable from the sky. Aloha vibrated through the van
as we Cruise along and it seemed to match the tension in the air.
She began again. Voice quiet.
So your aunt and her friends realized something was on top of
the van thumping and scraping at first.
They thought maybe it was an animal.
So they locked all the doors and tried to keep still.
According to Mom, fear, set in so hard, that nobody dared speak
above a whisper. Then the worst part happened,
the roof rattled, like an angry force was stomping around trying
to get a reaction. Everyone froze.
Mom continued eyes, fixed on the road.
Your aunt was shaking trying to force the key to turn in that
old ignition, but the engine kept coughing and dying like it
had given up. That's when they heard a
scraping noise, a nasty deliberate sound moving from the
back of the roof, toward the windshield.
Hearing those words, I found myself picturing it all too.
Well, a Pitch. Black Knight.
A battered van in the middle of nowhere and something.
Alive on top, strong enough to shake metal.
Mom turned the steering wheel with a grip that suggested even
she was unsettled by her own recollection.
Your aunt claimed, she'd never heard a noise like that.
It was slow drawing out each scratch as if to make sure they
knew it was there. A hush crept over me while I
imagine them pinned down Hearts, pounding uncertain, whether to
run or stay. When Mom described what
happened. Next, it triggered an instinct
in me to duck and hide even though we were just listening to
a story. She said a hand pale and twisted
reached over the front edge of the van nails, long enough to
curl over the glass. Your aunt saw it.
Come into view little by little until it finally scraped against
the windshield. In that moment, mom, added your
aunt. Thought it was all over.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. then the hand
vanished, everyone thought prayed it was gone but that was
just wishful thinking The figure jumped off the roof and appeared
right? Outside the driver's side
window. A spike of dread jolted through
me. I tried to imagine how that must
have looked a face inches away. Separated only by a thin pane of
glass. Mom described its silhouette
vaguely human but horribly off staring with unsettling.
Intensity, my aunt panicked launching her herself into the
back seat muttering. Every protective verse she knew
while the others coward and locked arms.
They huddled listening for movement, not daring to Peak,
but nothing happened for a while.
No thumping, know scraping no footsteps.
Fear of the unknown was almost worse than the noise itself
after what felt like ages. My aunt inched back to the
driver's seat. Her breath coming in quick
bursts with trembling hands. She jammed the key into the
ignition and gave it a desperate turn.
This time the engine roared to life.
They sped forward tires, kicking up dirt and Pebbles in the
mirror. They have expected to see that
figure chasing behind them, but the darkness swallowed
everything. Not one of them looked back for
more than a Split Second. Getting off that empty stretch
of road and toward the scattered lights of town became their only
goal. Mom.
Paused letting the enormity of it all set in then concluded.
Your aunt and her friends, never went partying out there again,
they refused to speak of it in detail for a long time.
She explained how those, who grew up on the reservation,
might gossip about skinwalkers and unexplainable sightings, but
no one joked around. When a story like ants was
shared, it was too real. At that point, our own van began
rolling into the outskirts of civilization.
The deserts slowly gave way to a few lights and the faint glimmer
of houses relief, mingled with leftover dread as Mom parked in
front of a small convenience store.
She flicked off the engine and turned to me, probably reading
the unease in my eyes. I didn't say much, I wasn't
exactly eager to speak worried. My voice, might tremble with
everything swirling around in my head, yet despite the fear,
there was a strange relief in knowing, we'd made it here in
one piece. No one expected visitor, waiting
for us in the Darkness. Hearing my aunts narrow Escape
made our own trip, feel safer by comparison, though.
Every random thump from the Vans worn out Parts.
Made me jumpy. Mom gave my shoulder a gentle
squeeze. Then switched topics to
something more ordinary. Grabbing late night, snacks and
stretching our legs. The conversation shift helped,
clear the heaviness. Still, I caught myself glancing
at the roof when I stepped out quietly grateful.
Nothing. Stood.
Perched on top. Like in the story.
Even after we got our snacks and climbed back in, I caught myself
scanning the Shadows. Half expecting an unnaturally
shaped figure to emerge and press itself against the window.
But it never did. We left that place with a fresh
tank of gas and the comforting glow of store lights fading in
the distance. Mom's story though, remained a
constant echo in my mind. No matter how many miles, we
traveled the images, stuck, the cracking roof, the wicked Nails,
scraping glass and the horrifying Stillness that
followed I remember telling myself, I'd stay alert, never
letting my guard down on these long lonely, highways in a way,
maybe that was the best ending to The Story.
One that kept you alert to whatever might lurk in the
desert night. I first heard about Kai's ordeal
from a friend at now who told me you've got to talk to this guy.
He saw something Beyond bizarre one night on the Navajo
reservation. Naturally, I was curious.
People whisper about strange events out here all the time,
but Kai's story had extra weight to it.
So one evening, we grabbed coffee in a quiet corner of a
cafe near campus, he hesitated before sharing almost like he
was still trying to convince himself.
It had really happened. Kay explained he'd been around
10 when it went down. He and his father were driving
late at night toward Window, Rock heading home from some
family gathering. They taken a lonely back road
with hardly a street light for miles.
Kai remembered, he was chatting about trivial things.
Maybe something about a movie, he wanted to see when his dad
abruptly stopped responding. He said his father's Knuckles
tightened on the steering wheel and the older man scan the night
as if searching for a threat. That tension seeped into the
truck's cab Kai sensed every muscle in his father's body was
on high alert. So he asked Dad is something
wrong. The reply was nothing more than
a muttered don't look outside. That warning was so quiet.
Kai almost didn't catch it. He leaned forward to ask again
but then his dad pressed, the gas urging, the old truck to go
faster than it ever. Had the fear on his father's
face was more alarming than any words could have been.
Kai couldn't help himself. He glanced out the passenger
window. Shadows flicker to cross the
desert but he didn't notice anything unusual at first He
continued searching feeling more uneasy by the second until his
eyes slid to the side mirror. He froze at the sight.
Twin red glows almost like Embers in the darkness, pacing
the truck. He tried to rationalize it,
could it be a reflection maybe brake lights from another
vehicle? But they moved two fluidly too
fast drifting in and out of view as if they possessed some
intelligence. They drew closer and the truck
lurched forward even more. Kai's father, repeated his
warning don't make eye contact with it.
By then any urge to look away had vanished replaced by a dread
that pressed on Kai's chest. He felt compelled to keep
watching, unable to tear himself away.
Suddenly those red eyes whipped around to the right side of the
truck disappearing into the Gloom.
Kai's father, was pressing the pedal so hard the engine whine
but something dashed across the headlights a shape that didn't
make sense. It was built like a coyote but
larger with scraggly fur that looked matted in unclean.
What made it impossible to dismiss as a normal animal was
the Ragged clothing, Tangled around its body.
Torn jean, jeans, clunked awkwardly, to, its hind legs,
and a shredded t-shirt flapped as it moved.
The trucks swerved. Kai remembered bracing himself
against the door, feeling the tires, skid over loose, gravel
the front end of the truck. Nearly veered off the road
heading straight for a drainage ditch.
At the last second his father wrestled, the wheel back cursing
under his breath. adrenaline sword, Kai's pulse hammered, and
the world narrowed, to just that terrifying deformed creature,
the Roar of the engine and the rattle of the truck's chassis
When the path finally straightened his dad didn't
stop. He drove even faster.
The creature remained out of sight, but Kai sent.
It wasn't gone. Just watching. every time his
father glanced in the rearview mirror Kai wondered, if the red
eyes would flare back to life, Part of him wanted to bury his
face in the seat to avoid whatever he might see.
Another part felt oddly compelled to stare though the
possibility of spotting it again turned his stomach.
It felt like hours before they reached their small house near
Window Rock. Realistically, it may have been
just a few minutes, but time doesn't behave.
Normally when Panic sets in As soon as they rumbled into the
driveway, Kai's dad, flung the door, open and motioned him to
get inside. No words, just an urgent
gesture. They sprinted across the yard
and hurried through the front door, locking it, behind them,
neither spoke. Barely, even looked at each
other in the living room, they shut off the lights and peered
out the window. Half expecting to see something
lurking in the Darkness. But all they saw was the silent
desert. Kai's dad, never brought it up
again. In the following days he acted
like it had all been a weird hazy nightmare Kai though,
couldn't Let It Go. He'd replay it in his head.
Those red eyes. Keeping Pace.
The moment that thing vaulted in front of their truck wearing
clothes like it had once been human, The whole episode made
him wonder if the reservations vast.
Unlit roads were the perfect environment for unspeakable
things to appear. He told me that even now
whenever he has to drive at night, his stomach twists into
knots. If he spots movement at the edge
of his headlights, He used to love those scenic drives home
gazing at the moon in the Open Sky.
After that evening, he only felt safe doing it in daylight when
you can see everything around you.
I left the cafe that night knowing this wasn't just another
spooky rumor. Kai's haunted expression said,
More Than Words ever could He'd experienced something out there
on that reservation Road. Something that prowls the
fringes of human understanding. Whatever it was it shattered his
notion that nothing unusual happens after Dark.
That was the first account I collected and it sparked my
desire to learn more about the Eerie side of life on the Navajo
reservation. Unfortunately, I discovered that
Kai's run-in, was just the beginning of a longer far more
unsettling chain of stories. But his recollection gave me
enough reason to keep digging, even if a part of me already
wished I'd remained blissfully in the dark I first met Tessa
beete outside a campus Lounge, when word spread that she had
her own unbelievable account from the Navajo reservation,
after hearing about Kai yazzis late night.
Run in, I was already on edge, but Tessa's ordeal added a whole
new layer of dread. She offered to tell me
everything after class, so we grabbed an empty table and
talked until the Staff started cleaning up around us.
Don't judge me. She began fidgeting with her
sleeve. But I never thought a garage
sale could lead to something awful.
Her voice wavered as though she was reliving the moment right
there. Tesla lived in Church Rock where
her family set up a simple yard sale.
Once a year to clear out whatever they didn't need old
clothes shoes that kind of thing. it was a warm Lazy
Afternoon, neighbors drifted by chatting, about the weather,
glancing at the racks and boxes, Tessa recalled, that everything
felt normal until a man showed up tall and wiry with a drawn
face. She said he wore an odd faded
jacket that looked like it might have been from a thrift shop and
he kept his eyes down almost like he was ashamed or hiding
something. She Shrugged at first thinking,
maybe he was just shy. But once he reached her father's
clothing section, he seemed transfixed like he discovered
gold in a pile of junk. Tessa's dad kept glancing over
at him puzzled because the sizes were definitely not going to
fit. Still the man plucked every
shirt. Jacket, and pair of jeans off
the table. Not bothering to try them on.
He paid with crumpled bills, that smelled faintly of tobacco
or something musty, then he shuffled away without a word.
The strangeness didn't fully sink in until a couple of days
later. That was when Tessa's father
began waking up at all hours, covered in sweat mumbling, about
horrifying dreams. Tessa didn't cry at first,
assuming it was just stress or maybe something he ate but then
itchy Source erupted on his arms and chest.
Day by day, they multiplied and the scratching kept him awake at
night. She wanted him to see a doctor
but he dismissed the idea insisting.
No modern medicine. Could fix what this was.
As we talked Tessa gripped, her mug.
So tight, her Knuckles whitened. She said that after another
night of miserable rest her father confided, that the
nightmares were too Grim to voice.
Like they weren't just bad dreams but invasive, tormenting
visions, He'd wake up convinced something dark lingered outside,
just be on the windows. That was when the family decided
to call in a local Medicine Man. The kind who knows what to do
when ordinary measures fail. Tesla walked me through that
harrowing evening. The medicine man arrived at dusk
carrying a bag of ceremonial items and a quiet determination.
He instructed Tessa and her father to help him search the
perimeter of the house. At first, it felt like a wild
goose chase. They peered under shrubs poked
through loose soil, shining flashlights into every Halo.
Tessa said, she wanted to believe, nothing would turn up
that her dad sudden illness was just a coincidence.
But then the medicine man paused near a scraggly patch of land on
the far side of their yard. He knelt down and carefully dug
into the dirt. Tessa's breath caught.
When he pulled up a small bundle.
It reached of copper and decay. Unfolding the cloth revealed her
father's old shirts. Drenched in something dark and
sticky blood Tangled. Within the bundle, was a stone
carved with unsettling symbols Tisa.
Almost backed away overwhelmed, by a surge of revulsion.
The man who bought your dad's clothes left, this the medicine
man said his tone grave. Someone is jealous or angry,
they want to do harm. Tessa recalled.
The moment vividly. She tried to form a question but
felt consumed by a numb paralyzing shock.
Her father reached for her hand, but she was shaking too badly to
be of any comfort. Without missing a beat the
medicine man, pulled out sage and other herbs, lit them and
recited prayers. She didn't fully understand his
voice Rose and fell echoing in the Twilight.
The smoke curled around the bundle swirling as if Guided by
an unseen Force, Whatever ceremony.
He performed seemed to chase away.
The crawling dread that had taken hold.
He then wrapped the cursed objects in another cloth.
Sealing them tight. Tesla saw a hint of relief cross
her father's face for the first time in weeks.
Before the medicine, man, departed.
He gave a final warning. Barry grudges and distrust.
That might have led to this malevolence because envy festers
and hidden corners of the heart. A curious calm settled after he
left. Tessa's father, finally, slept
that night uninterrupted by nightmares or itching.
Over the next few days, the soars began to fade replaced by
fresh skin. He told Tessa the heaviness in
his chest lifted as well. Like a giant weight had been
rolled away. When Tessa finished her story, I
noticed the cafes lights were half dimmed and the staff was
giving us that polite. It's time to go look.
We stood to leave and she admitted she still can't host a
yard sale without replaying that memory in her head. every time a
stranger picks through their family's clothes, she wonders,
if they might be hiding a dark purpose, I left the building
that night realizing there was more at stake here than mere
superstition. Chi Yazi had nearly been run off
the road by something wearing torn clothes.
Tessa's father was nearly destroyed by What Might Have
Been a curse. The deeper, I dug, the more.
I felt a silent gawing tension in my gut.
Because if these stories were true.
If the land out here allowed such things to happen, it
wouldn't be the last time I heard about it.
I tried shaking it off, but sharing myself that maybe these
were just isolated events. But a voice in the back of my
mind, wondered, what else was lurking in the desert Twilight?
And how many people out there had their own horror stories,
hidden under layers of dust? and so I prepared myself to
listen to one more Tale, The account of a late night drive
under a full moon, that's some said turned downright Sinister.
I met iona's on a chilly evening, at a local student,
hang out word had gotten around that.
She had her own brush with the Paranormal on the Navajo
reservation, something she was at first reluctant to talk about
but after hearing what happened to Kai Yazi and Tessa bete.
I was determined to see if her story fit the same Eerie
pattern. Ayana was a senior cheerful on
the surface but her eyes flickered with something.
I could only call unease Settled into a corner booth.
And as the chatter of other students died down, she finally
spoke in a quiet, serious tone. Let me guess.
She said, smirking Riley, you want to know if there's anything
actually out there running around in the dark, right?
She guessed, right? But I couldn't help noticing.
She hesitated like giving voice to her memories, might bring
them to life again. Eventually, she launched into
her tail and I felt an involuntary chill creeped down
my spine. Iyannas cousins had swung by to
pick her up after a small, get together in Window, Rock.
They were headed back home down a rural road jokes flying music.
Blasting from the outdated radio.
But it was a single cab truck with only three seats up front,
so Iana volunteered to ride in the bed under a stunning, full
moon that cast, Silver, Cross the desert.
She remembered leaning back arms folded watching the rocky
landscape pass by in that ghostly light.
She'd never put much stock in ghost stories or anything that
seemed to out there. The rest of her family joked.
She was two City minded two. Rational, not for long, her
cousins decided in the spirit of Mischief to take an unlit dirt
road, no streetlights, not another soul for miles.
She rolled her eyes thinking, they were just trying to freak
her out. Then the truck slowed for a
moment tires crunching on gravel as they turned off the main
Highway. The sky felt bigger.
All of a sudden the Blackness too vast.
For the first few minutes, it was the same, casual silence
pierced by the trucks engine and the occasional bump in the road.
Then Ayana heard something else, a soft rhythmic.
Thump that drifted over the breeze.
At first, she thought it was just the wheels on the uneven
ground. But it grew louder and more
distinct. And there was no doubt, it was a
drum beat. A steady haunting pulsing beat
that set her nerves on edge. Ayana pushed herself upright,
scanning the moonlit ridges for any sign of where the sound
might be coming from. It was disorienting out there in
the open bed of the truck. There was no where to hide if
something decided to show itself.
That's when she noticed a flicker of movement in her
peripheral vision. A shape a naturally slender and
almost luminescent in the pale. Moonlight emerged from the brush
at a dead run. She recalls how her heart
pounded, so hard. She could hear it in her ears.
The figure wasn't merely moving. It was charging closing in fast
on the side of the road. That Relentless drum beat
continued faster and louder as if chasing them both.
She slapped the back window of the cab screaming for her
cousins to look. Panic fueled, her voice and they
must have heard it clearly even over the Roar of the engine
because the truck lurched forward.
But the figure a man, or at least shaped like one
accelerated too impossibly matching their speed.
Iona's eyes widened, as she realized it was laughing.
She couldn't make out the words if there even were any it was
more like a giddy malevolent giggle, echoing over the desert
floor. Her cousins sped up, the engine
rattling from the sudden strain. the dirt road turned to
washboard ripples under the wheels shaking, the truck
violently Iyana fought to keep Steady As She peered around
desperately trying to track the man's position.
At one point, she spotted him nearly level with the tailgate
arms pumping grinched impossibly wide.
Then, as abruptly as he appeared, he vanished back into
the Gloom. The drum beat lingard, an echo
that seemed to cling to the air, even after the man was gone.
Her cousins cut the wheel. Finally returning to a main
road. They didn't let off the gas
until they saw the faint glow of a porch light in the distance
marking their house. The truck screeched to a halt in
the driveway and they piled out in a frenzy, every single one of
them on edge. Once inside, they locked all the
doors and windows. Some of them twice and turned
off every light. They clustered in the living
room hardly speaking each listening for the slightest
noise outside. For a moment.
Everything seems still Iyana noticed how drenched in sweat
she was despite the cold night air.
Then came the footsteps. Slow.
Purposeful. Right above them on the roof.
One cousin wanted to believe it was just a stray cat or raccoon.
But the footfalls were too heavy too deliberate They circled the
house from one end to the other each Creek punctuated by
silence. So thick, you could almost taste
the fear Ayana admitted that a few times.
She felt like her lungs, just seized refusing to let her
breathe. Every step overhead sounded
like. It was trying to find a weak
spot to break through. They huddled uncertain if
calling the police would even help.
Who'd believe a story about a pale figure chasing them in the
night. Besides it had taken at least an
hour for any official help to arrive if not more.
The footsteps persisted until just before Dawn.
In the early morning, light the roof.
Went quiet leaving a vacuum of dread in its absence nobody
dared, go outside until the sun was fully up shining bright
against the dusty yard. They ventured out searching for
Footprints or any sign of an intruder.
Nothing. It was like the night itself had
swallowed every Trace. When Iyana raped up her
recollection, she exhaled shakily as if letting go of an
invisible. Wait.
She told me that while part of her wants to dismiss the event,
as a trick of the mind or a prankster, with impeccable
timing, she can't erase how real it felt ever.
Since that night, she refuses to ride in the bed of a truck, no
matter how short the distance Hearing her story left me more
convinced than ever that something intangible weaves
through the Navajo reservation. Whether it's curses Twisted
creatures or figures that Delight in scaring unsuspecting
Travelers. We finished talking and as we
Rose to leave the campus Lounge felt too bright, too safe.
I wondered what might be lurking out there right now beyond the
reach of streetlights and far from any help.
But with these three Tales kaiya's childhood Terror on a
dark Highway Tessa Bate's, cursed clothing Fiasco.
And now Ayana nz's. Moonlit chase the puzzle pieces
lined up in my head It seemed these experiences were not
random. If you're on the reservation at
night, you're never truly alone. And strangely enough that night
I slept easier knowing at least people were talking about it.
Because sometimes just having a warning might be your best armor
against whatever. Roams those lonely roads, When
the Sun Goes Down, I grew up watching my dad run, his tiny
delivery business out of farming to New Mexico.
We handled all those remote drop offs, the bigger companies
avoided, long stretches of cracked Highway in the middle of
nowhere scattered with tumbleweeds and Dusty fences.
It was a normal thing for me to ride shotgun while my dad
trekked out into the desert to hand over some package.
Nobody else wanted to bother with.
Whenever summer rolled around, if he had a job, I tagged along.
One day, he got a call for a delivery Bound for Window.
Rock Arizona smack on the Navajo reservation.
It's only a couple hours from Farmington, so it sounded like
an easy run. Our friend, Travis, whose Navajo
happened to be hanging around when the call came in.
He perked up. As soon as he heard the
destination. Said he had family there, he
hadn't seen in forever and suggested we all go together.
My dad was excited about making it a group trip and I was
thrilled at the thought of an outing, beyond the usual
package, drop and go. We agreed I'd ride with Dad in
the old pickup, loaded with Freight and Travis would follow
with his girlfriend in another truck.
So we wouldn't be crammed. We set out mid morning, the sky
of pale blue streaked with a few whispy clouds.
Dad handed me a walkie-talkie and Travis took another.
I thought it was the coolest thing like we were on some
secret mission. By noon we pulled into Window
Rock and I realized how the place got its name.
There's this huge Cliff formation with a circular hole
carved by Nature, big enough to see right through The wind makes
a faint ghostly moan when it passes through that opening for
a kid, it was mesmerizing like stepping into some ancient story
while dad dropped off the packages.
Travis swung by to visit his relatives.
I snuck glances at the local vendors selling handmade jewelry
bright blankets and spicy snacks.
I remember the smells fry bread roasting chilies lingering in
the air. Everything felt warm inviting
until late afternoon came. That's when we piled back into
our trucks and started heading home.
We plan to stick to the Old Highway that runs between Window
Rock and gallops since it was less crowded though, the
pavement was beaten up and pitted with potholes.
It had rained earlier. That day leaving the roads,
slick. The desert was quiet.
Two quiet somehow. Usually, you see a rabbit or two
skirting across the asphalt or catch sight of a hawk perched on
a telephone pole. But it was just empty land on
both sides of the highway. Sandstone Cliffs looming on the
left and a sprawling field on the right separated by a barbed
wire fence. My dad kept the truck at a
steady Pace. He was never one to speed.
If there was any risk of losing control on wet roads, We were
talking on and off with Travis through the walkie-talkies,
joking about the Heat and how the day had gone.
Then we crested this small hill. At the bottom, in the middle of
the road, sat something that looked like a massive, dog
bigger than any mutt I'd ever seen.
It was just squatting there facing the Cliffside.
My dad grabbed the radio and casually said, hey Trav.
Do you see that huge dog up ahead and Travis's voice
crackled back only this time. There was no joking Edge.
He was yelling, that is not a dog, you have to hit it, don't
slow down, hit it now A spark of panic jolted through me.
I'd never heard that tone from Travis before.
He's usually laid back, always telling corny jokes or teasing
me about my video game. But he kept shouting hit it,
please like his life depended on it.
I saw my dad's hands tighten on the steering wheel.
The tires screeched a bit on the wet pavement as he stepped on
the gas. My stomach churned with Dread
but the reason why didn't fully register until our headlights
flooded over the creature. It turned its head toward us in
this jerky, unnatural motion. The face was the shape of
something that might have once been part human and part bare.
But Twisted Beyond Reason, Patches of matted brownish, fur,
clung to its skin. And the first seemed to be caked
in dried blood. Even sitting its shoulders lined
up with the hood of our truck. It stared right into the glow of
our headlights blinking with eyes that shouldn't have existed
in a normal skull. I froze.
Couldn't speak, couldn't think my dad didn't let up on the
accelerator. The engine roared and we surged
forward determined to Ram this thing like Travis insisted but
just before we slammed into it, the creature flung its mouth
wide in a guttural scream like a person howling underwater, the
sound hit me in the gut. Made everything in me twist with
horror, then it leaped backwards in a single bound that carried
at past the fence it soared. So high at almost seemed to hang
in the air. When it landed the fence Shook
and another jump took it completely out of sight.
Travis was screaming over the walkie-talkie for us to keep
going to speed up even more. My dad, stomped the gas and I
gripped the door trying to make sense of what I just witnessed.
We barreled down that Highway every nerve in my body.
Braced for the idea that the creature might come charging out
from behind us. My mind, conjured all sorts of
images. Claws.
Scraping the truck bed. Wet snarls, right by my ear,
that face pressing against the window.
Each second felt stretched out thick with the possibility of
that horrifying thing reappearing.
We raced onward until the lights of Gallup.
Finally popped into view. Relief was so intense.
It made me feel a little shaky but that feeling vanished.
The instant I saw blue and red flashing in the rear view mirror
A cop was pulling us over. Dad, slowed, the truck and
Travis halted right behind us. The Navajo officer stepped out.
Looking weary about why both trucks had pulled over Together.
Travis jumped from his cabin and hurried toward us, blurting, we
just saw a skinwalker on the highway.
It's following us, the officers face turned Ashen.
He looked at Travis like he wanted to argue but no words
came. All he managed was a few
stuttered sentences about letting us off with a warning,
then he practically sprinted back to his patrol car and tore
away tires, squealing on the wet ass fault.
We didn't stick around either. Dad fired up the truck and we
bolted leaving Gallup behind as quickly as we could.
Nobody said much on the drive, back to Farmington when we
finally got home. Travis refused to leave until he
gave us some sort of Navajo protection charm.
He pulled it out of a small Leather Pouch.
He always carried explaining that it was meant to ward off,
evil spirits, especially ones. That could shape-shift.
I think I was still in too much shock to speak up, but I saw
Dad's face and knew he was beyond rattled.
He carefully placed that Totum near our door muttering.
A few quiet words of thanks for days.
After I had nightmares about that creature's face.
About the moment. It turned its Gaze on us.
I'd catch myself staring out, windows at night.
Convinced I'd spot those Unholy eyes gleaming in the distance.
Even Travis who'd grown up hearing all kinds of Navajo.
Legends seemed haunted reluctant to talk about it.
It took a while before I understood just how deep these
stories ran in his culture, how real they were to the people who
had grown up surrounded by them. I still remember the hush and
Travis's voice when he finally explained that Skinwalker is a
word. Almost never spoken among the
novel. A term for an entity that can
wear the shape of an animal or something.
Half-animal half-human to stalk, unwary Travelers.
He said once you encounter one, you never look at the open
desert the same way again. That's the part that got under
my skin. The knowledge that out on those
lonely roads, there might be things watching from the Shadows
of the cliffs or lingering by the wire fences, waiting for a
chance to reveal themselves. Though years have passed.
I'll never forget the fear that crawled across the back of my
neck whenever I thought about that night.
Every time I drive those highways now, I keep my gaze
flicking left and right scanning for any sign of movement that
doesn't belong. I know my dad does the same.
No matter how much we try to rationalize it, maybe it was
some rabbit animal, maybe our eyes played tricks, the memory
lingers Whispering that there are forces out there beyond our
everyday world. Forces that can wear false faces
looming. Just out of sight as the rain
soaked Darkness. Settles in And once you've seen
what I saw, you learned to take every odd shape in the road, a
whole lot more, seriously. I was barely old enough to help
my uncle gather firewood for my grandmother that evening, but he
insisted, I tag along. we spent hours chopping logs under a
darkening, Sky, The Horizon turning a murky purple, as we
stack, the last pieces in the truck, Even then the atmosphere
felt thick like the land itself was harboring secrets.
By the time, we finally headed down that winding dirt road, I
was exhausted. My uncle's face was all Focus
eyes flicking across the landscape as though he expected
to spot movement in every shadow.
We drove at a steady pace of roughly 30 miles per hour, the
headlights just barely cutting through the dense night.
There were no streetlights, no sign of Life.
Apart from the gravel shifting beneath our tires.
A creeping awareness started to build inside me, making me want
to appear into the darkness beyond my window.
Right? When I turned to see if there
was something there my uncle barked.
Don't look. The tone in his voice was more
alarming than anything I'd ever heard from him.
I froze mid-turn. Then came a gentle knock on the
passenger window. Tap, tap, like a deliberate,
greeting, my uncle, slammed his foot on the gas and words.
I only partly understood Spilled Out of him in our native
language prayers. Meant to guard us, from whatever
lurked Beyond My pulse raced and every muscle felt locked in
place. Suddenly the entire vehicle.
Tilted, as though, something heavy had climbed into the bed
of the truck. My uncle kept chanting refusing
to let me turn around another tap reached, our ears this time
from the window right behind my head.
Each sound felt like a challenge testing the limits of our
resolve after a few agonizing moments, the wait in the truck
bed vanished, as abruptly as it had appeared causing the back
end to rise again. My uncle exhale to shaky breath
mentioning that first thing the next morning my father would
perform a special prayer. So this presence would forget
our faces. The rest of the ride was pure
tension. I stayed curled up, eyes locked
on the glowing, digits of the radio clock, while my uncle
chanted under his breath, until we finally pulled up to my
grandmother's house, despite my best efforts, I couldn't Drift
Off to Sleep. My grandmother's Place, sat
quiet, except for the occasional Creek of old boards.
At some point past midnight, I noticed a faint scuffling along
the window on the far side of the room.
My grandmother's house didn't have curtains thick enough to
block the silhouette. I glimpsed outside, something
tall, and crooked, almost bending to peek in.
I lay still swallowing back Panic as it.
Rustled around out there, the doorknob rattled briefly like a
testing hand. Tried to slip inside.
That was one. My uncle appeared in the doorway
Lantern in hand. Heed heard it too.
Hemed for me to stay put and closed his eyes.
Whispering a low song that had been passed down for
Generations. I buried myself under the covers
trembling while the Shadow outside drifted from one window
to another as those searching for an opening.
Only after my uncle's prayer. Grew louder did the presents
vanish? I remember hearing a final
scrape along the wall and a distant crunch of twigs.
When he was certain, it was gone.
My uncle quietly, reassured me? It couldn't break through those
prayers as long as we kept up our guard early the next
morning, my father arrived to offer a proper blessing on the
truck, the wood pile, and everyone under that roof He lit
some sage and asked us to form a small circle.
I was still rattled but being with my family, gave me a sense
of safety until I spotted something by the far edge of the
yard through the rising, smoke, a pair of shapes flickered In
and Out Among the trees. Dark figures that didn't look
entirely human. My father, paused mid chant and
glanced over as though. He could feel them too.
With a Stern expression, he continued his prayer at a
quicker Pace sprinkling, sacred corn pollen along the perimeter
of the yard. The shapes lingard pacing.
Almost in sync with his movements never coming too close
but never entirely leaving either.
Finally, as the last of the blessing ended, they disappeared
behind the brush. My father, reminded everyone not
to wander alone to keep to the main roads and to let him or my
uncle know, if anything else occurred.
That midday Sun offered. No, come forth.
It only made the yard feel strangely exposed as if unseen,
Watchers could linger behind any scrub or bush.
Time slipped by I Grew Older. And that childhood Terror became
a foggy recollection. But on a return trip for a
family gathering. I decided to drive out to the
same dirt road alone, partly out of curiosity, partly to prove to
myself that it had all been a misunderstanding.
The sun dipped below the Horizon faster than I expected.
By the time I was halfway there. Twilight had blurred every shape
into a blur of Shifting Shadows. that same oppressive hush
pressed in just as heavy as I remembered a breeze carried,
unfamiliar Whispers or so, I told myself, That I noticed the
rear of my car sagging down, like something had settled
inside the trunk. A spasm of dread shot through me
and I fought the urge to Crane my neck back for a look.
Memories of my uncle's urgent warnings came flooding back.
Instead I pressed the gas pedal Enchanted, what little of that
old prayer I could recall. The tension mounted a muffled
bump, echoed inside the vehicle, close enough to Rattle my
nerves. At last, the back rows again,
and the car felt normal. By the time I got to my
grandmother's new place, she'd moved a few miles closer to town
in her old age. I was shaking All the same fear
from childhood slammed into me. The moment I cut the engine.
Not long ago. A nightmare dredged up every
detail from that initial night. In my half awake state.
I thought I sensed tapping at my bedroom window.
I reached out to my uncle needing his calm voice to settle
me. He listened then quietly
admitted he never saw actual faces back then.
Only fiery watchful eyes glowing like distant brake lights.
He said those eyes were pinned on my side of the truck.
Tracking me, I tried joking about why he hadn't stopped the
first time. The weight shifted in the truck
bed. There was a long pause before he
answered Because it wasn't alone.
That single sentence told me. All I needed to know, He and my
father had always known, there was more than one presents
roaming that lonely stretch of road.
What ever found us? That evening may have followed
our scent back to the house, prowling around the windows and
edging close to the family. To this day.
My uncle's words Stay Lodge in my mind. whenever I remember
that drive, or the knocking on the glass, I recall how his
voice trembled as he chanted prayers to keep us safe from
more than one lurking entity. even now whenever the wind
Russells the trees at night, I can't help but picture those
eyes watching remembering And every time I go back to that
region of the reservation, I refuse to wander anywhere near
that dirt road alone. Something else might be waiting
in the darkness. Eager to see if I still
remember. Not to look.
I grew up in a remote corner of Northern Arizona flanked by
Paiute land to the North and the vast Navajo Nation to the South
Our little high school just a few dozen students was forced to
travel through Navajo territory for hours.
Whenever we had a away games, Most of the time we'd stay
overnight, but on one particular trip, the administration said
the budget was too tight for a hotel.
So after a late basketball matchup, we piled into our
rickety old bus, big blue and set off at around 2 in the
morning aiming to get home by sunrise.
I remember sitting at the back of the bus restless and wide
awake while everyone else drifted off.
Moonlight drenched the desert beyond the dusty windows in the
sky. Seemed dead endless.
Nobody thought it was strange at first, but I noticed our driver
pushing the accelerator much harder than usual.
Our speed reached around 90 miles per hour.
Way over the limit, we charge deeper into Navajo, land and the
miles of moonlit sand were eerily silent.
Like the world had paused. Out of the corner of my eye, a
shape emerged in the distance, it darted across the rocks and
scrub somehow matching the buses speed.
My breathing turned shaky the instant I realized it was a
human like figure with half of its face painted black and the
other half painted white eyes, reflecting the headlights like
some predatory creature. It raced alongside us leaping
over Sagebrush with alarming ease.
I stared in total shock, unable to look away as the things mouth
Twisted into a wide grin revealing Jagged yellow teeth.
Then its body began to contort Bone's, twisting and snapping
until it dropped onto all fours. First sprouting everywhere,
becoming a coyote before my eyes.
It vanished back in to the desert like it had never been
there. Leaving me stumbling into the
tiny bus, bathroom to puke. I'd heard whispers about
skinwalkers shapeshifters that Navajo Elders often warned
people about. But I never thought I'd confront
one. I was so rattled that I kept the
story to myself telling only a Navajo friend the next day.
She insisted I see the local chief for a blessing.
When I ran into him in our school parking lot, he uttered
words in Navajo under his breath and waved a feathered staff
around me. He didn't offer any explanation,
he just climbed into his truck and drove away.
I moved on or at least. I tried to though, I couldn't
erase that haunting image from my memory.
A few weeks later, I was helping a buddy, move some stuff near
the southern edge of the reservation and the sun dipped
below the Horizon faster than expected.
We were heading back in his pickup.
Both of us Auntie to leave the dark stretches of Highway
behind. Suddenly the engine hiccuped and
the truck sputtered to a stop right by an old barbed wire
fence. My friend fiddled under the hood
cursing, the dead battery while I fumbled for a flash light.
That's when I sense something just beyond our feeble light
movement. Lot of the ground.
A coyote stepped into the dim glow of the moon, but its
posture was all wrong. It stared directly at us
unblinking before standing up on its hind legs body lengthening
into that two familiar outline. My chest tightened with Dread,
my friend, and I scrambled to slam ourselves back into the
truck frantically turning the key.
The engine roared to life on the second try we sped off without
speaking a word. It took us hours to come down
from that Terror. The third encounter happened
during a late night store run, I'd been craving snacks and
decided to cut through a stretch of reservation land to save
time. Even though I usually avoided
it. The moon wasn't out and the
desert was cloaked in Shadows. Out of nowhere, the roads seemed
to change. Strips of old asphalt, vanished
by dirt and Scattered rocks that rattled beneath my tires.
In my headlights, I Glimpse something staggering onto the
road. At first, it looked like an
injured man waving for help. But as I slowed and rolled down
my window, just a crack, I caught sight of that.
Same half painted face. My heart.
Pounded as the figure lurched closer jaw opening impossibly
wide. The feeling of rawness, washed
over me, I floored the gas pedal in my rearview mirror, the shape
burst into a Sprint. Matching my acceleration for far
too many seconds before dropping out of sight.
I didn't stop driving until I was well past the reservation
boundary. The fourth and final time I
crossed paths with that Skinwalker, I'd been cornered
into a family obligation. My cousin wanted to check out
some property near Navajo land. As evening fell, we took a
shortcut. Big mistake, down a rugged back,
road. Storm clouds gathered overhead
turning the sky, a sickly Gray. Wind whipped up the dust and
thunder boomed in the distance. My cousin and I were talking
trying to distract ourselves from the creeping sense of
unease when a shape darted across our headlights.
We halted to aiding it and that familiar painted face glared at
us through the windshield. Right there in the open desert,
it bent forward, limbs cracking as they elongated mouthing to
revealed fangs. It lunged at the hood within
human speed leaving a dent in a smear of something foul that
smelled like decaying flesh. My cousin shrieked, and I nearly
lost control of the wheel but we managed to swerve around the
creatures. Shrill cry, like a wounded
animal mixed with a human wail echoed behind us for what felt
like ages. We drove off Hearts hammering
convinced that thing would appear in the rearview mirror
again at any second. The next morning, I contacted
that same novel friend desperate for guidance.
She reminded me of the blessing that the chief had done but
suggested I seek a more in depth cleansing from another spiritual
leader. I jumped at the chance, anything
to rid myself of these run-ins. The ceremony took half a day
involving herbs, chanting and an overwhelming sense of spiritual
gravity in the room. By the end, the Elder assured me
that I should be safe. As long as I showed respect for
Navajo lands and kept my distance.
If possible. Even now, whenever I'm forced to
head south, I plot an extra two or three hours into my route to
steer clear of that territory. It might sound extreme but I'd
rather burn daylight, and gas than feel that icy dread again.
Those four encounters left a mark on me.
It's not just some campfire Legend anymore.
This is something I've lived through and I don't want to ever
experience that horrifying gaze again.
That bus ride was only the beginning of a nightmare that
still makes me double check every dark stretch of highway, I
drive. I arrived at my grandparents
Place thinking the biggest excitement would be strolling
home from the Navajo Nation Fair after dark.
I'd grown up away from the reservation so I never quite
believed the tales about skinwalkers creatures said to
shift shape and create Mischief or worse.
My grandmother hated it. When anyone brought them up to
her just mentioning them, could draw their attention.
But that night I got a crash course in just how real and
frightening they can be. We return from the fair around,
nine stuffed from Carnival Food, exhausted in that good, warm
way. My grandparents trailer was cozy
but worn down the kind of place where every floorboard creaks,
no matter how careful you are, we spent hours catching up
sharing stories and laughing about family, gossip until about
2 in the morning. Tired or not.
My curiosity. Got the better of me and I asked
maybe two casually. Our skinwalkers real My grandma
went pale and said it was bad to speak of that sort of thing.
Then vanished into the back bedroom with my grandfather.
My aunt on the other hand decided to tell me about hearing
horrific, screams outside her trailer in farming to recently.
She'd woken up her daughter and the poor kid was in tears.
The entire next morning. The way she told it, those
screams sounded Almost Human but layered with something else.
A raspy guttural undercurrent that made her hair stand on end.
My aunt, tried to brush it off as coyotes, but deep down she
suspected something worse. Hearing that left me unsettled
but I tried to play it cool. Once everyone shuffled off to
their rooms, I was too wired to sleep.
The windows were open for the desert breeze.
And the place was eerily still except for the occasional Creek
of the trailer settling. At first, I told myself nothing
unusual was going on. Then I heard movement just
outside, like footsteps, trying not to be heard.
I poked my head into the kitchen pairing out at the empty yard
lit faintly by a single porch light. it all seemed normal
dust, swirling in the glow old trash cans near the road, our
cars parked in a line, That was it, right?
Then I picked up on a strange in the air?
No crickets. No.
Distant bark of dogs. Everything felt heavy or right
on cue a distorted cry shattered, the quiet.
It was closed. Definitely in our yard, my eyes,
locked on a shape, lurking behind the cars.
The outline seemed Kane, but something was off like it didn't
fit right in its own skin. It's fur, looked madid and even
from a distance I noticed its eyes reflecting that creepy
orange Hue. I heard about in stories.
I backed away, practically stumbling down the hallway, and
woke my mother. She thought I was panicking over
a stray, dog. Until the noises got louder.
More ragged She joined me at the window, we spotted the coyote
like figure limping across the yard, dragging a hind leg behind
it. And awful smell drifted in
something like old garbage and rancid meat and a low, moaning
echo seeped through the thin walls.
My parents yelled and Navajo for it to leave.
Calling it an unwelcome presence.
The commotion got everyone out of bed and my grandfather
grabbed a small handgun, coding. Some bullets in ashes.
He flung open the door and fired off a couple of shots, but the
thing vanished faster than anything that injured should be
able to move. We all gathered in the living
room nerves fryed. My grandfather mumbled about how
it knew we'd seen it, which could be a bad sign.
He tried to calm Everyone by promising to deal with it in the
morning. We eventually drifted back to
our rooms but I doubt anyone actually slept Around Sunrise, a
neighbor who was a medicine man came by to bless the place he
prayed over each of us, sprinkled sacred herbs in the
yard and told us that for now. We should be safe.
I thought that was the end of the drama, but I was wrong.
The following afternoon, I was on edge jumping at the slightest
sound. I decided to head outside and
help my aunt. Clean some junk out of her
truck, we stood by the tailgate tossing trash into a bin.
When I heard a low growl from behind the trailer, It was broad
daylight. So I doubted the creature would
return. But that growl vibrated through
the thin are my aunt and I locked eyes then inched around
the corner. Perched, atop a stack of
discarded palettes. We saw the same Twisted coyote
shape only now it seemed bigger more.
Unkempt, like the encounter last night had agitated it.
Its eyes flicked toward us, that same hateful glare.
Before we could shout it left off the pallets with an awkward
thud disappearing into the brush.
We stood there breaths ragged wondering if we'd actually seen
it or if our nerves were just playing tricks, but we knew it
was real. My aunt started chanting, a few
novel words under her breath praying, it wouldn't come back.
We told the family what happened?
And they grew even more anxious that evening we all huddled in
the living room lights off to avoid drawing attention.
My grandmother insisted it was better to keep the trailer dim
if the thing returned, maybe it wouldn't see us.
At some point, my cousin suggested, we head out to the
old shed a few hundred yards away to see if something there
was attracting the creature. It was a dumb plan, but
curiosity, got to us. We walked out together my
cousin, two, uncles, and me. The desert was quiet.
The moon casting weak light across the Sandy ground.
We reached the shed rummaging through old boxes and broken
chairs. When we heard a scraping sound
on the metal siding. It was slight, but unmistakable.
My uncle nudged the door open, right outside.
That thing was crouched, low. Its breath labored eyes glowing
in the Moonlight. a trickle of drool or something thick dripped
from its mom in a Flash at hurled itself at the doorway, My
cousins, slammed the door and we started barricading it with
anything heavy. That horrid moan returned
cycling between what sounded like laughter and an animal's.
Whine. It banged against the shed.
A few more times, then silence. By the time we mustered enough
courage to peer out, it had slipped away again.
We trudged back to the trailer, where my grandfather was waiting
with more ashes and some fresh bullets.
He said a string of words in Navajo that basically meant the
creature was toying with us testing our defenses.
Everyone agreed to stay indoors for the rest of the night, but
the tension was unbearable, especially in such a cramped
space. Early the next morning.
My mom insisted we all visit. Another relative who lived about
20 minutes away in hopes. That may be a change of scenery
would help. We piled into two cars driving
through Dusty Rhodes while checking the rearview mirrors
every few seconds. We stopped at a small grocery
store to pick up supplies. As we were loading groceries,
into the trunk, my dad pointed toward the edge of the parking
lot. There, skulking behind a row of
desert shrubs was that Twisted figure.
Even under the Relentless son, its first still looked grimy and
ragged a few other people in the lot noticed it too.
And you could tell by their expressions, they knew it wasn't
just astray. It stared at us for a long
painful moment before darting off behind a nearby building.
The sight of it right in town, made me realize how bold it had
become by our third night. Everyone seemed at their
Breaking Point lights, stayed off curtains, shut doors locked.
My grandparents kept chanting protection prayers sprinkling
corn pollen, near the windows and doorways.
My grandfather made sure his gun was loaded.
At around midnight, a violent scratching return to the door.
We could hear the woods splintering this time.
My grandmother started shouting, in Navajo calling upon
protective spirits to drive it away.
Then a sudden inhuman whale reverberated through the thin
walls and the scratching stopped.
My grandfather opened the door just enough to peer outside gun
at the ready. Nothing but fresh deep gouges.
Mark the wood, none of us, slept a wink after that by Dawn.
The medicine man neighbor came back.
He brought another Elder and they performed a more extensive
blessing ritual lighting Cedar and Sage chanting powerful
prayers around the entire property.
They told us this creature was malicious and strong, but if we
followed the protective rights and avoided feeding its energy
with fear or Reckless talk, it would have eventually move on.
I'm not sure if it's truly gone or if it's just hiding waiting.
But I do know, I believe everything.
My grandmother told me. Skinwalkers aren't myths.
Designed to Spook kids, they're real, and they prey on.
Vulnerabilities, the times, you let your guard down or taunt
them with your doubt. These past few nights.
I came face to face with something that shattered my
skepticism forever. Even now, whenever I close my
eyes, I can still see its Twisted form lurking at the
edges of my mind and I pray that I never ever experienced.
That petrifying sense of being watched again.
I still recall how the quiet wrapped around that old house
like a heavy blanket. Back then our little place on
the Navajo reservation didn't have electricity.
So the only light came from lanterns glowing in the living
room. My two brothers and I were left
alone that night since our parents had headed to a chapter
house meeting, it wasn't the first time they left us to watch
over things. But something about that evening
fell off. We'd gone through our usual
routine, made a quick dinner from whatever.
We could rustle up then clean the few dishes by Lamplight.
My brother's joked around, while I tried to relax but I couldn't
help peering at the windows. The desert night was always dark
yet. That particular night felt like
it was pressing against the walls.
Once we finished our chores, we set the lanterns on the kitchen
table, and sat down. We had no television or
Internet. So we just chatted in low voices
about the day. The air smelled of warm dust and
the faint smoke left over from our wood stove.
We were tired but not quite ready to sleep.
Outside, the wind whispered across the empty land, Usually
that lullaby would put me at ease, but my instincts kept
buzzing like, in alarm. Suddenly we heard something out
by the truck. A shuffling noise that wasn't
the wind. It was like someone was shifting
around boxes or picking things up and dropping them.
My brothers and I stared at each other.
Realizing nobody should be out there at that.
Our The closest neighbor's lived miles away.
And they'd never just dropped by on a ounce My oldest brother
crept toward the window. Letting the lanterns glow.
Guide him. He peered through a small Gap in
the curtain. I watched his face go pale.
That's when he whispered that someone was digging around in
the truck. A tightness clenched, my
stomach? Why would a stranger sneak onto
our property? So far from town?
Let alone rifle through our vehicle.
It didn't take long for fear to settle in, we glanced around the
living room, trying to figure out a plan.
There wasn't exactly a phone to call for help.
No landline, no cell service out here.
My younger brother fumbled for the rifle.
We kept near the door. The one we almost never touched.
He handed it to me. Like, he couldn't stand the
thought of holding it himself. I took it feeling my hands
tremble, the idea of facing down someone in the pitch, black yard
made my head spin. But what choice did we have?
We needed to protect our home. We decided to step out onto the
porch, see if we could scare them off my heart thumped
against my chest. Each beat reminding me just how
alone we were. We eased open the front door,
the night air, rushed in cold and full of possibilities.
Lantern lights spilled over the porch steps but it didn't reach
the truck. We strained.
Our eyes searching for any sign of movement for several seconds.
We couldn't see anything. Just the vague outline of the
vehicle and shadows stretching over the dirty yard, but there
was that sound again like metal. Scraping Something was
definitely out there and it wasn't some friendly neighbor.
I whispered to my brothers that we needed to stick together, the
rifle felt heavier than it ever had like it knew trouble was
near. In the darkness, I thought I saw
a shape move near the trucks Open Door.
My pulse hammered part of me wanted to shout for, whoever it
was to leave. Another part worried that
calling out my provoke them. We just stood there.
Silent Hearts pounding. Trying to catch a glimpse of
this unwelcome visitor, who had appeared out of nowhere and I
had the strangest sense that we were being watched in return.
I eased onto the porch, with my brothers huddled behind me
Lantern and one hand rifle in the other.
The rattling sound we'd heard before had stopped, but that
only made me more anxious. Even in the faint glow, I could
spot the truck a few yards away. The passenger door was open
wider than it had been just minutes ago.
Whoever was messing with it was clearly not done.
My older brother whispered for the Intruder to come out and
explain themselves voice shaking despite his effort to sound
tough. Silence answered.
Back an unsettling quiet. So deep.
It seemed the entire desert paused to listen.
Then a shape Rose by the trucks Open Door.
It turned toward the house, slow, and deliberate.
My stomach tightened. Something about the way it
moved, stole all sense of security.
I raise the rifle, bracing, it against my shoulder and said
that we weren't afraid. The shape didn't react Beyond
standing perfectly still for a moment.
The lanterns light barely reached the edge of the yard so
I could only make out an outline tall.
Maybe hunched, definitely not normal. its Stillness unnerved
me more than any lunge, or sudden motion could have My
brother urged me to fire a warning shot.
Just over its head in hopes of scaring It Off.
I pulled the trigger and a dull, click echoed in my ears.
Nothing. I tried again.
Still nothing. Every desperate.
Pool only produced more clicks. The rifle fell dead in my hands.
I remember panicking because we'd use that gun a few times in
the past and it never had problems.
Yet at that moment, it behaved as if it had no intention of
Defending us, the figure took a step forward and a wave of rot
wafted over the porch. It smelled like something
decaying in the heat so potent. It made me want to gag My
brother's backed away alarm plane on their faces.
I held the rifle up, again, refusing to drop it, even though
it seemed useless. It was the only thing keeping me
from freezing with fear. Just then a flicker of light,
glimmer down the road through the sparse trees.
I could see a pair of headlights, bouncing along the
dirt path. Relief and Dread Ward inside me.
My grandparents were home, which was good.
But what if this Intruder decided to Target them too?
The shape shifted its attention to the approaching lights and
slowly peeled away from the truck before.
We could react it slid behind, one of the large gnarled, trees
that dotted our property. I'd never felt such a potent mix
of Fury and Terror part of me wanted to chase after it.
Demanding answers the other half wanted to retreat inside block
every door and pray that the thing wooden return.
I heard my grandparents pull up and hop out of the car.
My oldest brother raced across the yard to meet them rifle in
hand telling them in frantic whispers about the intruder.
My grandfather. I'd the open truck door then
focused on the tree line. Without needing an explanation,
he dashed inside rummaged around for ashes from the stove.
He coded the Barrel in a single bullet working quickly and
calmly like he'd practiced this before.
When he came back out, we clustered around him.
My grandmother, stood protectively near me and my
younger brother. My grandfather, Strode to the
edge of the porch and aimed at the place where we'd last seen
that shape lurking. He fired without shouting a
warning, one thunderous blast that broke the suffocating
Stillness. For an instant.
I thought he'd missed until a shrinking cried tore through the
night, a shadow ripped away from the tree and tore across the
yard heading farther into the desert.
We didn't stop to question what it was or how it was still
moving after that shot. My grandfather and my older
brother raced for the Truck Engine roaring as they gave
Chase. I stood there, surrounded by
lantern glow. Trying, not to let my mind
wander too far into dark possibilities.
The stench lingered in the air as if whatever, that thing was
had left a piece of itself behind.
All I could do was cling to the thought that if anybody could
handle it, it was my grandfather.
He'd clearly known something about dusting, the rifle in
ashes a trick. I'd never heard of before.
Still that encounter had rattled us.
We weren't prepared for how close danger had come or how
little we could do about it. And even though the worst part
seemed over, I couldn't shake the notion that the fight was
only just beginning. Grandfather.
And my older brother didn't hesitate after that.
Shot rang out. They jumped into the truck and
tore off into the desert. Leaving me my other brother and
grandmother huddled on the porch.
My thoughts kept spinning as the tail lights blinked, across the
uneven, ground part of me wished.
I could have gone with them though.
My legs felt too unsteady to stand.
I was stuck there. Hoping they wouldn't be lured
somewhere even worse in that Darkness.
It felt like ages. Before we heard the engines
roared again, fainted first, then growing louder as it rolled
back toward the house. when the truck finally crested the rise,
grandfather slammed on the breaks, The tires kicked up a
cloud of dust that lingered and in the shifting beams of the
headlights. I saw my older brother's stunned
face. They both climbed out eyes full
of the kind of urgency that meant.
No one was getting any rest tonight.
Grandfather told us how they chased the figure Beyond a steep
ditch that dropped off at least 20 feet.
He slammed on the brakes in time to avoid tumbling over the edge,
then lept out to confront it. my brother swore that each time the
headlights caught, the runner, it flickered into the shape of a
woman loping on all fours, her limbs bending in ways that
defied reason, At the brink of that ditch, grandfather shouted
in Navajo naming a local woman. He suspected was behind this
evil. He demanded, she leave us in.
Peace warning, she'd pay if she persisted They saw it, pause
like it understood every syllable, then it released a
guttural hiss and bolted deeper into the desert.
Even with the rifle loaded properly, hitting a figure so
fast in the dead of night was nearly impossible.
Not wanting to risk a rollover, or get led into unfamiliar
terrain, grandfather made the call to turn back.
The realization that it was far too cunning to Corner made
everything feel worse. We locked up the house as best.
We could blocking the doors and pulling the curtains.
My brothers and I sat around the lantern.
Each of us jumping at the slightest rustle.
Grandmother set up prayer in a trembling voice hands pressed
together. Meanwhile, grandfather kept
that. Ash coated rifle at his side,
keeping watch at a window. I could see the weight of the
night in his posture determined, but exhausted. no one slept
until dawn, every Creak set us on edge Hearts pounding, as we
wondered if that thing had decided to return, in the first
gray, light of mourning, we ventured out The sickly sweet
stench had faded but muddy Footprints remained by the
truck. None of them looked like a neat
pair of shoes. The prints were splayed with
deep indentations that reminded me of paw marks more than
anything human. Over the next few days, our
whole household operated like we were on constant alert.
A few neighbors dropped by hearing whispers that our family
had crossed paths with something foul.
We tried to make light of it, but people exchanged grave looks
each recalling stories of their own strange and counters.
Then we heard the news the same Local woman grandfather had
named that Knight passed away under mysterious circumstances.
Nobody could explain exactly what happened.
Some said she fell ill suddenly others, blamed old age.
But the timing left us uneasy. It was grandfather's silence.
That told me everything he insisted, we show respect, keep
our heads down and remain cautious.
He refused to talk further about the woman's passing, but I
Glimpse the relief etched on his face.
From what I'd heard around the reservation.
If you call out a skinwalker, if you speak their name, you're
essentially dooming them. Maybe it was a coincidence, or
maybe, grandfather's Act of naming her truly sealed her
fate, whatever the explanation, the stench, and the footprints
vanished. Our dogs barked less, as if the
territory had been reclaimed by friendly or Spirits nights.
Felt a little safer, though. The rifle still leaned by the
front door, ashes kept close at hand, The memory of that
figures, slow advance and the way the gun wouldn't Fire stuck
with me longer than anything else.
Even now whenever Shadows, move weirdly, after dusk, I remember
that night. Some folks think these Tales are
nothing but Superstition but I lived through one too many
coincidences to dismiss them. Maybe the woman was just a
person who knew dark tricks or maybe she truly turned into
something, not quite human. Either way, I learned that in
the isolation of our land. There are forces.
You don't challenge unless you're ready to face the
consequences. By the time my parents returned
to their routine of chapter house, visits, I'd grown used to
being on guard. The chills from that encounter,
never fully went away, but I found a strange comfort in
knowing we survived it, we held our ground that was enough and
on those quiet nights. When the moon's out in the wind,
rustles the dry brush. I remind myself that evils real
but so is resilience our family proved that much.
I used to think my parents place was the epitome of ordinary
cookie cutter neighborhood at the base of some, Foothills
complete with a neat, little fence and a paved driveway.
But everything shifted once I found that obscure path just off
the Canyon Road. It's hidden behind a thin screen
of trees and the sign is either so faded or small that most
people wouldn't notice it. Even if they were looking I
stumbled across it, thanks to a hunch and a friend's random tip.
And on the day, I decided to explore it with a buddy from the
Lost Creek Expeditions. Well, that was the afternoon,
everything changed. We parked near the bend in the
road and got out. The chill in the air smelled
like wet Earth and leaf rot which made sense because the
entire slope was drenched in melting snow.
The moment we stepped onto the gravel, two sharp cracks, echoed
through the trunks. My friend froze.
Glancing at me with a. Did you do that expression?
I shook my head. It was definitely coming from
deeper in the trees although the idea of random branches snapping
on their own crossed my mind. I tried to laugh at all, but it
felt forced. It was the first bark of
suspicion that something or someone was aware.
We had arrived. The trail itself was a sloppy
mess coated with slush and fresh mud.
Each step made an ugly squelching noise that shattered,
any semblance of Silence. The canopy overhead was so
thick, most of the days light got swallowed before a touched
the ground. It was like entering a tunnel of
Shadows. We picked our way along
carefully, occasionally slipping.
We only made it a few hundred feet when another pair of cracks
rang out sharper than the ones by the car.
My friend. Threw me a nervous smile and I
tried to shrug like it was normal.
On the inside, I was rattled. The Knocks felt deliberate
spaced. Just right, almost like signals
or Warnings. We kept moving, telling each
other, we were just being paranoid.
Sure it's a remote Trail. Sure it looks spooky could be
normal forest sounds right. Except the deeper, we went the
heavier, the atmosphere became like someone had draped.
A wet blanket over everything. My friend pointed out how it was
that we hadn't seen a single squirrel bird or even a random
chipmunk. By this point, I was seriously
wondering if we'd wandered into a section of woods that didn't
appreciate visitors. eventually we reached a point where the
path level off and we found a small clearing, it was probably
the only spot along that stretch of Trail where daylight actually
made it through the branches. My friend wanted to stop for a
snack. So we hunkered down on an old
Fallen log. Only half focused on the granola
bars in our hands. My ears kept straining to catch
even the faintest noise. That's when a third set of
knocks rattled the air from somewhere up the slope.
I remember locking eyes with my friend, at that moment, there
was no more kidding around. We knew we weren't imagining it.
Despite the growing tension, we decided to wrap up the snack
break and head back. Neither of us openly admitted
being uneasy, but the walk down felt much faster than the hike
up. When we finally made it to the
car, the weird sense of relief washed over me so hard I
actually paused to catch my breath.
My friend and I swapped a few hushed theories maybe a
woodpecker maybe trees shifting in the wind, but neither of us
believed it, a knot of dread seemed lodged in my gut.
Insisting, something else was going on.
I ended up returning to that trail on my own, not long after
it. Nagged at me constantly, I'd be
sitting in the living room at my folks place, looking out at the
ridges and I'd feel this poll to go back.
Every trip was the same slick ground murky light an uncanny
hush. The Knocks were still there too.
Echoing sporadically as if they were following my progress.
My mom eventually tagged Along on one of these outings during a
cold overcast morning. We didn't talk much until we
reached the top third of the path where a chain of Knox
surrounded us from every direction.
She just raised her eyebrows unsettled but pretending she was
fine. Neither of us dared to speak
above a whisper. At first, we told ourselves it
was just the forest. After all nature can get weird.
But as we headed home, the silence in the car was
suffocating We both sensed that something far Stranger Than
random tree sounds lived up there.
Even recounting it. Now, the memory of those cracks
in the distance makes my stomach twists.
Yet, I couldn't stay away. Something about that trail
demanded my return. Like, I'd stumbled onto a secret
that refused to stay hidden. Even though the experience
unsettled me, I needed to know more.
I needed to find out what was knocking back.
I didn't realize just how deep I'd gotten into this Obsession
until the day. I ventured up there alone again.
No casual friend in toe, no group.
Just me and the looming wall of Silent trees.
I wasn't stupid. I was nervous as hell, but the
urge to see if the knocks would happen again or if something
even weirder might had me lacing up my boots anyway.
So I parked my car at the usual spot and started up the trail.
Like I had a dozen times before barely 10 minutes in.
I heard Russell's in the brush. The kind you catch at the corner
of your ear when something big is moving around.
I kept telling myself it could be a deer.
But a few minutes later that notion collapsed when a
resounding. Woo.
Boomed from somewhere off to my right?
I froze. Like I just been caught stealing
my heart stuttered but after a couple of breathless seconds, I
did something probably insane. I answered back with my own,
woo, it was more out of adrenaline than courage like my
brain had gotten the memo. That this was a terrible idea.
The response came so fast, it nearly knocked me backward.
A vicious high-pitched Screech that shot through the trees.
My spine, prickled. The sound wasn't human yet,
something about it, felt eerily intentional like an angry
command. I've been out in the woods
enough to know the usual suspects owls.
Foxes Hawks, this wasn't any of those.
It was deeper more layered. My whole body was shaking, but I
forced myself to keep calm. Crouching to make a smaller
silhouette in case, God forbid, whatever was out there, saw me
as a threat. I guess I must have sat for a
while but I couldn't tell if it was one minute or 10 because the
whole world got so quiet. I could hear my pulse in my
ears. Then this new noise drifted
toward me something, soft at first like a faint panting.
But it grew louder heavier. Until it felt like the breathing
of an animal with a chest, the size of a refrigerator.
Ha ha ha ha ha. Each exhale, sounded closer than
the last though I couldn't pinpoint from which direction.
It was as though the forest itself was breathing massive
lungs, expanding in the shadows around me.
Terror lit up my nerves. My brain reeled with
possibilities bare mountain, lion or something else entirely.
But something about the pattern, felt calculated like it was
announcing its presence rather than creeping up for a Kill.
Maybe it was trying to scare me away, if so it worked.
I stood carefully heart hammering against my rib cage
and started moving back, downhill, slow enough, that I
wouldn't trip on the muddy slope.
The moment I decided to leave that heavy breathing, cut off
like a switch had been flipped. Dead Silence again.
There's a twisted kind of relief in being left alone, but it sure
didn't feel like a blessing more like a threat that could fire up
again. Any time.
Another time. Not long.
After that, I spotted an odd structure near the top of the
trail under a thick old tree. That had been bent and broken.
Yet was somehow still clinging to life. leaning against its
trunk, where several sticks long sturdy, branches arranged in a
triangular shape like a teepee I had read about weird, stick
structures, in online stories, but always figured, they were
Bushcraft, shelters or kids playing around.
This one though, looked too deliberate.
The sticks had been placed at angles that locked them
together. No random pile of Deadwood could
pull that off. Against my better judgment.
I whipped out my phone and snapped a few photos.
My breath caught in my throat. There was an unmistakable
pressure in the air. Like I was being watched from
just outside my field of vision. you know, that feeling when the
hairs on your neck, stand up, multiply that by 10.
I hurried back down the trail faster than I should have half
slipping in the mud convinced. I might catch a glimpse of
something darting through the trees.
The next day, I must have been half out of my mind because I
went up again to see, if any fresh Clues were waiting.
At first, it seemed normal or as normal as that place can feel.
But once I was near the base of the trail, I nearly puked when I
saw it a deer carcass or what was left of it, the skull was
mostly intact still attached to part of the spine, but the legs
looked snapped twisted. No scattering of fur or signs of
a typical animal kill either. It was like, it had been dropped
their right where I couldn't miss it.
A jolt of horror flooded. My system so fast, my knees,
almost buckled. I remember standing there trying
to wrap my head around it. When a single notion took hold,
This was left for me because of the pictures that was the
instant. I decided never to bring a
camera up there. Again, it felt like crossing a
line as if I disrespected something that didn't appreciate
prying eyes. Word of my experience as must
have gotten around because a friend who was skeptical about
the whole thing pestered me to let him tag along.
We went at dusk and the knocks started up almost on cue.
By the time we got halfway a series of sharp Clacks echoed,
so loudly. You'd swear someone was whacking
a tree trunk, right beside us. My friends confidence,
evaporated. We walked out of there in a
hurry, each step mirrored by feint crunches in the
undergrowth, neither of us dared.
Look back, I made it a personal rule.
No more cameras. No more inviting people to
witness it unless they are truly prepared.
The idea that I was treading on sacred ground, someone else's
territory. Not at me constantly.
Every time I ventured back, I felt a swirl of excitement and
Dread Something out there was watching.
Maybe testing me. and after that, deer skeleton incident I
wasn't eager to push any further than I had to I wish I could say
I stayed away, but that would be a lie.
It's like this place has a pulse of its own, and it's sinked with
my curiosity. Dragging me back whenever I try
to ignore it. At this point, I know it's only
a matter of time before something big happens.
Something impossible to dismiss or rationalize Yet part of me
keeps coming back for more in spite of the warning signs
piling up like stacked bones. And that I guess, is where
caution ends and Obsession begins.
I don't know why, I kept testing my luck on that trail, but I
guess part of me needed closure. Something Told me the story
wasn't finished. So, when I heard about the
second structure, it was like an invisible force.
Tugging me back. The first one, a teepee of
sticks under that warped. Tree was shocking enough.
But my friend claimed to have spotted another bigger
construction further up near a Grove of Aspens that had been
bent almost into an arch. He was nervous about returning
so I decided to check it out alone.
I still wonder if that was a huge mistake.
Reaching the arch took longer than usual, because the trail
wetter than ever. Mud sucked at my boots.
With each step, like the land was trying to hold me back.
When I finally got there, I noticed the arch wasn't just a
random shape. Long branches had been wedged.
Crosswise forming a kind of lattice Slabs of fresh Aspen
bark, draped across the top, like, roofing tiles.
Channeling the rainwater. So it ran off in neat, rivulets.
It definitely wasn't natural. My chest tightened at the idea
of something with clever hands building that the silence felt
like, it might smother me on the spot.
Even though it's scared me, I crouched down to look inside.
It looked barely tall enough for a person on all fours.
Maybe an adult could sit comfortably but not stand,
either way. It was sturdy.
As I stood to leave, I caught a whiff of something unfamiliar
earthy kind of damp and animalistic.
It was enough to make me back away, uneasy that whatever
stayed in. There might come home at any
moment. On the return trip.
I heard frantic would knocks from above almost like a warning
or maybe a scolding for trespassing, that's when I
glanced up the slope and spotted a silhouette at first, I assumed
it was just a broken trunk. The shape Blended perfectly with
the surrounding trees. Then it glided sideways behind a
thicker trunk with such effortless motion that my head
spun. For several seconds.
I stood there trying not to lose it.
The presence of that shape tall quiet and cunning twisted my
nerves into knots. I still haven't worked out.
I might have tried to rationalize it away except there
were other details. I couldn't ignore.
Foot shaped impressions in the muck that vanished like someone
had deliberately erased them. Shredded bark on wide trunks at
Heights. No average, animal would reach.
One of the worst discoveries was a half in rabbits, carcass
propped near the path where I couldn't miss it.
I'd walked that spot earlier and it definitely hadn't been there
before the notion that someone might be placing these gruesome
finds on purpose, made my skin crawl word about my experiences
spread among friends. And soon I was getting messages
from people who wanted proof, pictures hair, samples
Footprints anything. I refused to bring a camera
anymore remembering the deer bones from my last attempt.
I had zero desire to push this phenomenon any further than I
already had. That trail still calls to me
every time I passed by those mountain ridges.
It's not peaceful. It's far from it.
It feels like stepping on to ground that belongs to something
else, something you sense just outside your vision.
I keep telling folks that no matter how curious they are,
they should think twice before hunting for cryptic answers
there. Curiosity might lead you
straight to a truth. You're not ready to handle.
And once you've glimpsed that shape, shifting behind the trees
or found those bones laid out for you.
You can't pretend it was just your imagination, you carry it
with you forever. I hopped off the train in
Olympia feeling, pretty confident that I could handle.
Whatever lay ahead figure. If I could manage the Moody
weather and notoriously fickle schedules of public transit, a
few crashing ways in Westport, would be no big deal.
Truth be told I had been itching for something new, something
unexpected. Surfing in the cold Waters of
coastal Washington. Sounded like the perfect fix.
After a quick cup of cheap coffee, I stuck out my thumb
along the highway and an old truck eventually pulled over.
The driver a lean man in a flannel jacket wasted.
No time telling me there wasn't much going on at the shore this
time of year. I laughed at all, but he just
Shrugged and said some folks like their Solitude a little too
much. The comment hung in the air.
Weirdly unsettling. Maybe he was just making
conversation but his words rattled around my head, the rest
of the ride. When we reached Westport, I
thanked him and climbed out. The wind greeted me, like a
slap, sharp and Relentless carrying the Tang of salt from
the water. After I found a shop willing to
rent me a surfboard for the day. I sprinted straight for the
shore with more excitement than caution.
That was my first mistake. The Pacific in May was nothing
short of frigid and the wave slammed me like I didn't salted
them personally. still, I stuck with it, if only out of
stubbornness By late afternoon. Every inch of me was exhausted.
My face, stung from the wind and my arms felt like heavy weights
from paddling. The thought of a warm bed seemed
like wishful thinking, at that point.
A local suggested heading south to Grayland State Park, if I
wanted an out-of-the-way place to crash.
Pay for a campground or skip the fee by stealth camping.
If I was feeling bold. Naturally.
Bold one out. I hitched another short ride
down Highway 105, noticing how the trees along the road, grew
thick and twisted their branches leaning over the asphalt as
though trying to keep secrets locked under their canopy.
Not that they were towering Giants far from it.
But they formed a continuous tangle that blocked out a good
portion of the sky. Something about those woods made
my mouth feel dry. Even though I couldn't pin down
why Grayland turned out to be nearly deserted.
One, bulky RV stood near the entrance with its blinds closed
as if whoever was inside, didn't want to see or be seen attempt,
further down. Looked zipped up for the night.
No. Sign of movement.
The are there felt different lest Briny more earthy like damp
soil and leaves with a sharp undertone of marine chill.
I decided to scope out the trail leading to the beach.
By then the sun was dipping low casting Long Shadows that danced
along the edges of the trees. The wind pushed me forward,
almost urging me to get on with it.
I found a decent spot, a short distance away from the surf
marked by a weirdly shaped rock and a flimsy post.
Fluttering with a bit of pink ribbon.
I dropped my gear. A battered sleeping bag ground,
tarp and the wet suit I hadn't bothered returning yet.
Thinking it would be easy enough to find them later.
Before dark truly set in. I headed to the bathroom hoping
I could charge my phone, no dice, the overhead light
flickered, but the outlets were dead no caretaker or Ranger in
sight. I took him a moment to rest
against the concrete wall, listening to the Wind Through
The Empty Campground. A tiny voice in my mind asked
why nobody else was around. Sure it was off season but it
felt downright abandoned. I lit up a cheap cigar watching
the last rays of sunlight fade My nerves buzzed with
anticipation, maybe from the lack of real food, maybe from
that edgy Stillness. That only comes when a place
feels Untouched by casual human presence.
Occasionally, I heard the muffled sound of the Waves
crashing and I pretended. It was lulling me into a sense
of calm. A weak illusion.
Once Darkness settled in, I realized I couldn't stall
forever. I'd have to Brave the narrow
Trail again, guided only by what little Moonlight seeped through
the canopy. My stomach Twisted at the
prospect of stumbling around blindly, but I tried to laugh it
off. It's just a half-tamed strip of
coastal Forest. I told myself.
What's the worst thing that can happen?
With that, I pushed off the bathrooms damp concrete wall and
started walking. The wind picking up as though it
wanted me to hurry. Everything around me felt on
edge. Like the environment itself was
waiting for me to make a wrong move.
I had a flash of the driver's words from earlier.
Some folks like their Solitude a bit too much.
The phrase made me glance over my shoulder scanning.
The dimly lit campsite I didn't spot a soul but I still couldn't
shake the nagging sense that something beyond my knowledge
thrived in that emptiness. Determined to Camp as planned.
I took my first steps into the dark little.
Did I know just how quickly my confidence would unravel once
the trees, swallowed me whole. The second I stepped beyond the
tree line, the campground lights and that tiny thread of comfort,
they offered vanished behind me. It was, as though, I'd walked
into a different reality one where the wind seemed louder and
the Darkness felt tangible. Like, it had weight.
I kept my hands stretched out in front of me, trying to avoid
slamming into a trunk, but my breath still caught at every
near miss. Each Shuffle.
Forward was a calculated gamble. The path Under Foot was uneven
and I had zero sense of how far I had come, despite knowing I
just had to continue West I soon lost all sense of direction.
In theory, if I kept moving, I'd stumble onto the shore of
eventually. Instead, I found myself trudging
in circles spooked by The Sensation that the trees were
closing in. My arms brushed rough bark.
Tangles of branches, snacked my clothing and the Roar of the
wind overhead. Drowned out.
Any hints that might have helped me navigate when I finally
emerged from that Labyrinth of Twisted foliage relief flooded
me, Until I realized the landmarks, I had counted on
spotting my weird rock and that little post with the streamer
weren't there. my eyes darted across the moonlit sand looking
for anything familiar but the beach stretched on empty Salted
gusts lashed against me. Making it impossible to see much
of anything frustrated. I inched back into the woods
flipping on my phone screen for a feeble glow.
That light. Barely reached a few steps
ahead. Revealing only a tangle of wet
Ferns and shadows at one point. Something off in the distance.
Made a noise. A low resonant called that Rose
above the wind. Oddly stretched and loud.
It could have been my mind. Twisting normal forest sounds
into something ominous but it sent a surge of alarm through my
body. Anyway, I told myself it was an
owl or maybe a coyote but even I didn't believe it.
It didn't have the trademark yet for Screech.
This was different. A drawn out tone.
That felt impossible to ignore. I crept forward trying to keep
calm my feet rooted in place whenever I heard a rustle or
detected, a flicker of movement, in my peripheral vision, as the
second's dragged on, I noticed a pungent odor.
Damp and somehow animalistic. The wind couldn't carry it away
fast enough. It nod at the edges of my
thinking fueling, the idea that something far larger than an owl
was lurking beyond my flashlights.
Pitiful radius. then I heard the same unnerving sound again, but
this time it reverberated from behind me closer than before It
was a low wavering. Moan that, crescendoed in a way,
I couldn't have imagined an ordinary creature producing.
My chest felt tight with a surge of adrenaline.
I stumbled forward in a desperate attempt to get out of
there, tangling, my foot on an exposed root.
My shoulder smacked against a trunk and pain, jolted down my
arm, but I refused to stop. My only plan was to keep moving
until I reached the beach or open ground somewhere.
I could see what ever was out there.
A short time later, I burst onto the sand again, breathless and
shaking. My phone's light flickered off.
So I was left with only the faint glow of the Moon.
The ocean lay in front of me a slab of Shifting Darkness.
For a moment. I Stood Still scanning the
shoreline the wave's roared but they couldn't drown out that
faint call echoing in the Wind. Somehow I knew it was trailing
me. I forced myself to walk along
the beach. I straining for that stupid rock
anything to Anchor, my bearing. My entire body, felt raw like
every nerve ending was ready to snap.
At one point I noticed what looked like a large shaped Dart
between the trunks at the edge of the woods but the swirl of
sand and Gus made it impossible to confirm if it had been my
imagination. It was doing a damn good job of
tormenting me. After what felt like hours of
Staggering along the sand, The Rock finally came into view.
That stone. Never looked so beautiful.
My makeshift Camp was right where I had left it which meant
shelter for the night. Not much but better than
wandering out in the open. I sank onto my ground, tarp
pressing a hand, to my shoulder, trying to massage away, the
pain. My lungs still felt like they
were on fire. For a long time, I sat there
straining to catch any hint of the unknown noise.
All I heard was the Restless tide in the occasional gusts
slicing through the trees. At some point, I dragged my
sleeping bag over me and huddled inside.
Normally, I might have drifted off to the hiss of waves, but
fear, kept me, rigid. Every brush of Wind Through the
nearby grass made me jump. I couldn't guarantee I was safe
but at least the Open Sky gave me a fighting chance to spot
trouble before it reached me. Eventually the brutal exhaustion
won out. My eyes grew heavy even though
my pulse was still racing. Before I slipped into a Restless
dose, I grabbed my pocket knife and laid it beside me just in
case. The reality of what lurked in
those woods was far from settled.
And I had a feeling the night wasn't ready to let me off easy.
My eyes snapped open. At first light though, I
couldn't say I truly slept. The wind had died to a low
whistle and the morning sky was a dull gray, casting just enough
light for me to see. I was still in one piece. my
shoulder throbbed from last night's collision with that tree
and my legs ached in a way that told me I had gone too hard
trying to outrun something I couldn't even see Shaking off
the lingering fog. In my head I sat up and scan the
beach. It was eerily quiet.
Normally sunrise. Over the Pacific is breathtaking
pinkish clouds golden water. But that morning, it felt
subdued. Like, even the day was hesitant
about showing up. Part of me hoped I'd find solid
proof that the terrified felt in those woods was just my own
overactive imagination. Then I noticed something odd
near the water's edge. Impressions in the wet sand
bigger than I'd expect from any person walking around.
They were spaced too far. Apart to be from a casual
stroll. My pulse jumped They could have
been smoothed or warped by the tide.
Sure, but as I got closer, I realized they had a vague foot
like shape to them the elongated Broad I crouched down suddenly
aware of how alone I was on that stretch of beach, my heart,
pounded harder. When I noticed a line of these
prints leading toward the tree line, exactly, where I had fled
last night. I wanted to dismiss them blame
them on shifting, sand or an odd trick of the current, but the
winds howling in my memory and that unexplainable call, I'd
heard still waiting on me. Standing there cold water,
lapping around my ankles, I felt more shaken than ever.
Whatever had proud those woods might have been right there on
the beach, watching me as I bolted around in the dark.
I hurried back to my makeshift camp and stuffed everything into
my pack. There was no chance.
I had linger another minute in that spot.
Every snap of a twig. Every gust of wind behind me.
Made my skin prickle. Turning my back on that narrowed
Coastal Forest felt both necessary and dangerous.
Like something might leap out at me before I Was Out Of Reach.
The walk through the trees in daylight was nowhere near as
terrifying as at night, but my nerves were still on high alert.
the occasional shaft of mourning, son revealed just how
twisted and close those branches were Conifer needles and salt
laid, an are formed a pungent mix.
That sat heavy in my lungs. Even then, even with the
sunlight, I couldn't shake the sense that I was being watched.
When I finally re-emerged into graylands Campground, I almost
didn't recognize the place. The single RV was gone the site
where the couple had been sleeping looked deserted as
well, no people no sign they'd ever been there.
Maybe they packed up at dawn or maybe they were gone long before
I even woke. That chill at the back of my
neck prickled again, making me wonder if I had imagined the RV
in the tent entirely. I didn't waste time.
I hooked it out to the highway and flagged down a passing
truck. The driver throwing me a
curious. Look, when I practically jumped
into the cab, I mumbled something about needing to get
out of Grayland fast. He didn't press for details and
I didn't offer any. We ended up stopping in a small
coastal town. Not too far away.
There was a diner, their fluorescent lights, buzzing the
scent of bacon and coffee in the air.
I sank into a booth hand still shaking as I wrap them around a
steaming mug when the waitress asked if I was.
Okay, I managed to have smile and said something like, long
night She nodded like she'd heard it all before.
A couple Old-Timers at the counter kept glancing over,
probably picking up on my rattled vibe.
Eventually I summoned the nerve to ask them if they'd ever heard
weird noises in the Grayland area.
Their eyes flickered with a hint of recognition.
One said he'd heard all sorts of stories, sighting of large,
ape-like, figures near the dunes strange howls, at odd hours.
The other Shrugged calling them Tall Tales but his mouths set in
a way that said he wasn't entirely convinced of that later
after I changed into dry clothes and recharged my phone.
I typed in every search term, I could think of Grayland Screech
bigfoot, calls, Westport Forest noises the audio clips, I found
those alleged Bigfoot. Whoops, are howls sent a jolt
straight through me. Some had the same weird resonant
pitch. I'd heard piercing the win the
night before my throat went tight, just listening to them.
I can't say with 100% certainty, what chased me through those
Tangled trees or if anything literally followed me at all.
But when I think back on that searing, cry on those footprints
in the damp sand and on the acrid smell that clung to the
air, I can't deny something was out there, something bigger and
Stranger Than a mere owl or dear.
By the time I finally found a bus back toward Olympia the
morning sun had grown strong. Casting long raised over the
highway. I should have felt more at ease
but I realized I was still shaking.
I kept replaying the night in my head.
If I had made one wrong move taken one bad tumble.
I might have still been out there huddled in the dark with
Whatever. That thing was.
Even now safe at home and scrolling through internet
forums. I can't shake the feeling that I
Glimpse another side of that rugged Washington Coastline
aside that rarely meets human eyes.
Sure, I walked away rattled, but I walked away all the same,
which is more than I can say for some folks who vanished and
thick forests and never shown up again.
I didn't get the grand surf Adventure, I hoped for and I
doubt I'll be heading back to those Dunes anytime soon.
Still that memory of hearing that unearthly cry.
Slicing through the howling wind, the trackway in the sand,
and the sense of a presence lurking in the Gloom has carved
itself into my story forever. It's a reminder that sometimes
out on the edges of the map. You're a guest in someone else's
Realm. And you don't always see your
host until it's far too late. I remember the heat pressing
down like a weight that afternoon making every breath
feel thick. My friend and I had set out for
a casual hike, a few miles from downtown Salt Lake City,
figuring we'd escape the traffic noise and Chaos for a while.
The trail was narrow weaving through dense undergrowth that
tugged at our clothes and we hadn't been walking long before
sweats started trickling into our eyes.
We finally stopped in a small clearing where clusters of Tall
Firs stood close enough to form a canopy overhead.
I squinted at them noticing how some trunks seemed angled
against each other, almost like a teepee.
My friend and I tossed around theories.
Maybe campers had dragged them into that shape or some weird
storm had left them like that. None of our guesses felt
convincing and something about the arrangements.
Set my nerves on edge. We just leaned against Fallen
logs to rest. When a tremendous crash
shattered, the Stillness Branches rattled, needles
spiraled down and I felt a jolt of alarm my head snapped toward
the noise eyes searching for the source.
Deep in the undergrowth. I spotted movement.
In the Gloom of overlapping branches, a form of about six
feet, tall darted through the brush.
It had dark brown hair. Patches of lighter fur around.
Its midsection, then darker again along its legs.
My mind immediately tried to twist it into something
familiar, but the temperature alone made it impossible.
That anyone would be trekking around in a heavy outfit.
I called out my voice tight. Hello, anybody there?
My friend was already on his feet pushing aside.
Low-hanging branches to get a better.
Look no response. It was Eerie how fast everything
returned to Total silence. We inched forward scanning the
area for Footprints or broken limbs.
The only clue we found was a wide depression in the thick
layer of needles. A single Mark Deeper and larger
than the shape of my size 11 sandals, we strained our ears
hoping for a second crash or at least the sound of something.
Stomping away, nothing the forest around us seemed empty of
life with the hairs on my arms prickling.
I tried to rationalize it maybe a stray, hiker, in an odd
costume or a shadow playing tricks on me.
But my gut told me we'd crossed paths with something else.
Despite the unease creeping through my body, we decided to
keep moving. The trailer head fell safer than
lingering in that strange silent pocket.
I remember glancing back every few steps half expecting that
Harry figure to appear. Again, it never did.
But from that moment on the simple Day, hike I'd planned
turned into a slow walk with my senses on high alert.
Always waiting for another crash in the undergrowth.
Over the next few days, I found it almost impossible to focus on
every day life. My mind kept drifting back to
that strange figure slipping through the furs.
The odd printed in the needles. and the question of what, or who
was lurking out there, every time I tried to dismiss it, I'd
remember how intense that moment felt and get that uneasy twist
in my stomach all over again. It wasn't something I could
write off as a trick of the light or a fleeting Shadow.
Finally, my friend, and I agreed, we had to head back.
I wasn't about to do it alone. So we brought along two more
people who were up for the challenge.
They were both Skeptics at first rolling their eyes when we
mentioned, fur and Footprints. But once we described how
massive that impression was and how quickly the figure had
vanished, they got quiet we stocked up on extra supplies,
strong flash lights, fully charged phones for video and a
firm resolution that this time we'd be prepared for whatever we
might find We started early in the morning, hoping to reach the
tree formation before, the midday Sun turned the trail into
an oven. The four of us hiked in a line
maneuvering through dense brush. Like it was some Uncharted
Terrain. Conversation was minimal.
We'd crack small jokes here and there, but there was this
underlying nervous energy, like we all suspected something was
off and didn't want to jinx it by talking too much.
Eventually we reached the spot where we'd rested on the
previous trip the clearing with the bizarre teepee
configuration. It looked different somehow like
the branches had shifted, or more had been added.
I couldn't help, but wonder if something had returned to
rearranged them. They were large Twisted limbs,
not something you'd expect to be thrown together on a whim.
The silence around us felt thick.
Like the atmosphere itself was warning us that this place
wasn't ours to linger in. One of our new companions, Sarah
noticed, a cluster of cracked branches piled in a weird
pattern on the ground. It looked intentional almost
like the start of another structure a few steps away.
I saw old barks stripped off a trunk in a way that didn't look
natural. We started taking photos in
poking around trying to see if there were any signs of
footprints in the dirt or new scuffs on the bark.
That's when we caught the faint sound of movement, from up the
slope, a shuffle, or a shift in the League's low in heavy, we
froze as a group, exchanging glances that held the same
anxious. Thought we were not alone, we
aimed our flash lights, toward the dense.
Undergrowth. Their beams, cutting through
Shadows, Nothing, not even a startled bird fluttering away.
Still none of us, relaxed. We found ourselves Whispering
like we were worried that raising our voices, might
provoke something. With that uneasy weight hanging
over us. We headed into a small Ravine.
The same direction. I was pretty sure our mystery
creature had darted before my pulse throbbed as the Shadows
deepened. the place reached of damp soil and old foliage, a
scent that somehow felt claustrophobic It wasn't long
before the daylight started fading.
The canyon walls blocked out a lot of the afternoon sun and I
realized wheat spent more time in that area than we'd planned
the thought of getting caught in near dark conditions, while
searching for a massive unknown creature, sent a bolt of anxiety
through me another half hour of picking our way through thick
vegetation, and we collectively decided we tested our luck
enough. We turned around to head back,
taking measured steps, all of us glancing over our shoulders
every few seconds. The undergrowth seemed thicker
now or maybe it was just our nerve.
Every snapped twig felt like an alarm.
Each rustle. A Potential Threat waiting just
beyond our sight. But despite the near constant
tension we never saw a distinct shape or heard anything more
than a stray crack of wood. When we finally reached the
clearer part of the trail, the sun had dipped lower casting
Long Shadows. That stretched across the
ground. We hurried out not exactly
running but not taking a leisurely Pace either.
By the time we got to the trailhead parking area.
Nobody was in the mood to talk about what we'd seen or hadn't
seen, we just stood by our cars. Exchanging uneasy glances like
we'd all silently agreed. There was definitely something
out there and we were not sure how close we'd come to it this
time. Driving home, I kept reliving
the moments, we'd spent next to that tangle of broken branches.
The silence pressing down on us, and that single distant noise
that carried just enough heft to remind us, we were Intruders.
Even if we hadn't caught more than a glimpse, it felt like a
step further into a mystery that might be bigger than anything we
were prepared for And yet a part of me knew we'd be back because
once you sense something that strange it's impossible to just
walk away and forget. I couldn't shake the feeling
that we were dancing around the edge of something huge. after we
got home from that second hike, the tension in my chest wouldn't
let up every time I tried to sleep, I pictured, the Twisted,
branches the strange Footprints. The hushed, Russell on the
slope. Part of me was flat-out
terrified. But another part was hooked, I
needed to know what we were dealing with.
Needed to see it with my own eyes once.
And for all it took some convincing, okay, borderline
begging, but my friends agreed to go back one last time, this
time we plan to differently, no more flirting with sunset.
We'd go in early and broad daylight, do a thorough sweep
and be out before. Darkness had a chance to swallow
us. We told ourselves that if we
still couldn't find solid answers, we'd accept the mystery
and move on. At least that was the plan.
We set out at dawn the Rising Sun, casting warm light on the
dusty trailhead. Even the walk leading up to the
fur Forest, felt loaded with suspense like the trees
themselves. New are intentions.
The forest canopy was still thick though.
Patches of light trickled. In Illuminating swirling dust
Motes in the early morning are It should have felt peaceful but
I was coiled tight with anticipation.
By the time we reached the teepee like structure, the sun
was fully up the weird arrangement of logs and branches
looked even more deliberate in daylight.
My friend, Sarah, who had been so skeptical before just stood
there shaking her head, She murmured something about how
there was? No way.
This was natural. It felt more like a constructed
boundary marker than anything random.
We combed the area systematically marking.
Any Impressions picking up bits of fur caught on broken
branches. Yeah.
Fur not just a straight tuffed hero or there.
But enough to notice a pattern, it was coarse dark with lighter
tips. We collected at carefully in
small plastic bags. Our minds spinning with
possibilities. There was a smell too, musky.
Pungent, like wet dog, mixed with rotting leaves, It made my
stomach churn but it all like proof that we weren't Chasing
Ghosts. Eventually, we descended into
that narrow Ravine where we'd heard something.
Moving on the second trip. It was cooler there.
The sunlight hitting the ground only in scattered patches.
The deeper, we went the more unsettling, the atmosphere
became giant. Boulders jutted out at odd
angles and Fallen trees. Formed natural barricades like
something had been shaping. The path to discourage visitors.
That's when I saw it just a flicker of motion from the
corner of my eye. My throat went bone dry.
I raised my hand to Signal everyone else to stop.
We stood dead, still every nerve on high alert.
Between two Tall Firs partially hidden by a thick screen of
leaves was a silhouette. Tall stalky covered in that same
two-toned hair. It wasn't running this time.
It was watching us my heart pounded so hard.
I could feel my pulse in my temples.
The creature shifted stepping forward just enough for me to
make out a thick powerful frame. I couldn't see its eyes clearly,
but I sensed the tension in its stance.
My friend whispered oh my God and started fumbling for her
phone but I gently put my hand on her arm to still her.
Something in the creatures posture told me, it wasn't
thrilled to see us yet. It wasn't charging either.
It felt like a standoff. Then it made this deep resonant
sound and almost guttural warning.
The trees around us seem to vibrate with the force of it.
I swear I felt the noise more than heard it like a low Tremor
through the ground. my legs wobbled a primal Instinct
screaming that I was in the presence of something that could
hurt me if it wanted to But it didn't move closer.
It stared for a long moment. As if weighing whether we posed
a real threat, I raised my arms in a slow open gesture trying to
look as non-threatening as possible.
My entire body was on the verge of bolting, but I forced myself
to hold my ground. The creature gave a strange
Huff, then slid back into the brush, a sending the slope with
a speed and Grace that left us standing there breathless.
One moment, it was there. The next the forest swallowed,
it whole, we didn't chase it. I think a few of us realized at
the same time that chasing would be a monumentally bad idea.
Instead we just stood gripping, one another's, arms marveling
that the standoff had ended with without violence.
My brain buzzed with a mix of relief, awe, and lingering fear.
Part of me wished. We had some perfect Crystal
Clear footage to show the world. Another part knew it was enough
just to have seen it and walked away in one piece.
After a few shaky breaths, We Gather what composure we could
and decided to head back. None of us wanted to press our
luck. On the way down, We Found the
courage to talk quietly about what we'd seen.
The footprints, the smell, the fur and finally that face almost
hidden behind the leaves. It felt like we'd intruded on
another intelligence. Something that had staked out
its home here way too close to civilization for Comfort but
hidden by the thick undergrowth. It was near midday when we
emerged onto the main trail, the sun Shone brighter than I had.
Expected the warmth on my shoulders, a stark reminder that
we hadn't been gone long in terms of hours.
Yet, it felt like we'd lived in an entire lifetime in that
ravine. The rest of the hike was silent
except for the rhythmic crunch of our boots and the occasional
shaky laugh. Whenever someone muttered?
What just happened. At the parking lot.
We regrouped around our cars. Unsaid questions hanging in the
air. We had hair samples and faint
phone videos of leaves moving, but nothing that could truly
capture what we experienced. Honestly, it hardly mattered.
We knew we'd touch something beyond our day-to-day lives and
there was a powerful, almost sacred finality in leaving it
behind undisturbed. By that afternoon.
We promised we'd keep our eyes and ears open for other stories.
Other signs. But we all agreed.
We wouldn't intrude again. it was like we'd signed an unspoken
pact with that Forest respect its boundaries, let the creature
live as it was meant to and maybe just maybe it would keep
granting us safe. Passage I haven't been back
since, but I can't say I won't ever go.
The memory still lingers in the back of my mind, especially when
I'm alone at night. Every now and then I relive that
moment of I contact if you can call it that and wonder if it
might happen again. Strange, as it sounds.
There's a small part of me that hopes.
It does. Because for one brief moment,
fear and Fascination collided. And I realized there are still
corners of our world that remain wild vast and deeply mysterious.
I grew up on a stretch of land, tucked behind Rattlesnake Ridge
and expansive, farmland and Forest that stretched farther
than my young eyes could measure.
For most of my childhood, it felt like my personal
playground. My older brother and I spent
countless afternoon's chasing each other across the fields.
And if we wanted a change of pace, we'd wander down to this
cluster of thin Alder trees off the lower.
Pasture, the trunks were so flexible that you could climb
halfway up then, lean forward and ride them back down, like a
giant springboard. It was a thrill branches,
snapping beneath us the ground rushing up both of us whooping
with excitement. That was our world wide open
full of life and possibility. One autumn day.
Everything changed. I remember the bite of The
Christmas Bear, the hint of damp Moss as we hiked the gentle
slope toward our favorite bendy Alders the two of us were
already need deep in mud. By the time we reached them
eager for the adrenaline, we got from swaying to the ground.
Snap crash, just normal everyday noises that went along with our
games. We knew what breaking branches
sounded like. Small.
Twigs made a quick pop ticker ones.
Created this deeper crack. It never scared us.
Not until we heard something that shouldn't have been there.
We just finished a round of our makeshift tree, surfing, when a
different kind of snapping started echoing through the
Grove louder heavier. It cut through the air with a
foresight never experienced. My brother glanced at me, his
smile twisting into alarm and I realized he heard it too.
We both froze. The cracking sounds kept rolling
in growing louder with each second.
As if logs, two or three times thicker than the ones we were
playing on were being torn apart.
I tried to make sense of it. We knew the rumble of bulldozers
and tractors. Our dad, worked those machines
all the time but this was different like some massive
presence was crushing trunks on her foot.
It felt too random two wild for any piece of equipment.
The worst part was we couldn't see the source of the noise.
The trees formed a wall of leafy, Shadows around us and
beyond that everything felt eerily dim.
Suddenly it all stopped. Not gradually one second.
It was there. The next it was dead quiet. we
were left standing with our breath ragged, our heads craned,
the Alders for a glimpse of whatever was out there.
A cold prickle of dread coiled in my gut.
The land we knew so well. Felt strange and unwelcoming
like something dangerous was lurking, just beyond our sight.
My brother started to whisper something.
Maybe to tell me to head back when a roar or a howl.
I don't even know how to label it.
Ripped through the silence. It was so powerful.
I could practically feel it in my chest.
Every hair on my neck prickled and my legs seemed to move on
their own stumbling backward away from the tree line.
My brother was right beside me muttering words under his breath
that I couldn't make out. We didn't linger to see if the
Creature, if that's what it was would step into view.
We tore up that slope sliding on loose gravel nearly colliding
with each other in our haste. I remember the metallic taste of
adrenaline in my mouth, when we reached the house we barged in
through the back door panting so hard, it took him a minute to
speak our mom stood there alarmed.
But as soon as we tried to explain babbling about snapping
trees and an impossible, Roar her face softened into a look.
I recognized All Too. Well, disbelief.
Probably a bear. She said, or you too, just got
yourself worked up, no matter how hard we insisted, it was
bigger louder, more frightening than any bear, she wouldn't
budge. She told us to clean off our
muddy shoes. And go about our day that night
though, I could barely settle into my bed.
Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts wandered back to the
moment that Relentless crashing fell silent and how an unearthly
Roar seemed to rip through the air.
The lower pasture, the place that had once felt like our
personal amusement park. Now, felt like a different realm
altogether. I wanted to forget it, chalk it
up to an overactive imagination, but I couldn't push it from my
mind. Later, I'd have to start waking
up Before Dawn to feed our cattle down near those same
altars. It was a chore I used to do with
ease. No, flash, light needed
comfortable in my own backyard. After what happened?
I found myself standing at the door, each morning, heart
pounding as I peered out at the black silhouettes of the trees.
The thought of Crossing that stretch of land made me shiver.
I'd force myself to go, but every crunch of a leaf would
raise the hairs on my arms, that Roar played on a loop.
In my head, I should have known. It was only the beginning.
There was more to that Roar than just a single terrifying after
noon. Deep down a part of me sense
that whatever lurked in the older Grove wasn't finished,
leaving its mark on our property or on me.
It had been a few weeks since that day in the Aldergrove and I
was still on edge. During daylight.
I managed to keep most of the worry tucked away, but once the
sun dipped below, the Ridgeline all bets were off.
Sleeping became a nightly struggle, every snapping twig
outside, turned my thoughts, back to whatever, had worn at
us. My parents stuck to their theory
that it was just a confused bear.
The, I think they noticed, how tensei was each time.
I had to walk down to the barn. They offered no real Comfort
beyond that life on a farm. Meant chores, didn't stop Fear
or not. One evening, exhaustion,
finally, got the better of me. I'd spent hours chasing down a
strike half and was yawning by dust.
I remember, collapsing onto my bed half-dressed drifting in and
out of sleep. While a slice of moonlight cut
across the bedroom floor. It must have been nearly two in
the morning when I stirred aware of my flip clocks faint glow.
The display red 145, those bright illuminated numbers.
Casting, a hazy, light around the room.
My eyes were gritty with fatigue, but nature was calling.
So I swung my feet over the edge of the mattress.
That was when I happened to glance at the window.
At first, I saw just the road, we'd cleared a few trees near
the house, the previous summer. So I had an unobstructed view of
the dirt path heading downhill. The moon was full and High
bathing everything in a faint. Silver tone.
I blinked trying to decide if my mind was playing tricks, because
off to the right near the tree line, there was something moving
it stepped into clearer view, tall, Broad, and unlike any
person I'd ever seen Even at night, I could make out the dark
shape of towering shoulders. Its head looked proportionately
big though, I couldn't see details the fence down, there
was about five feet tall, yet the figures torso hovered.
Well of it, I froze watching as it, took two strides across the
road. That's how I knew it wasn't
human. No one could cross that span so
quickly. Let alone look.
So massive in the process, There was an unsettling Grace to its
movements like it could Glide without effort.
My thoughts drifted back to that explosive Roar in the Alder
Grove and a jolt of dread course through me.
I realized it might be the same thing some unknown creature.
Roaming our land crossing the pasture under the moon's gaze
any hope that I'd imagined everything before evaporated in
that moment. Panicking.
I reached over to flip my clock face down, afraid, that even
that mild glow might give away my presence.
Then I inched myself, lower on the mattress.
Doing my best to slip out of view.
Every breath felt like it echoed through the entire room.
A thousand questions tore through my mind.
Would it come closer? Could it peer into my window if
it wanted to? I had never felt so vulnerable
pressed into the creaking Springs of my own bed. outside
the figure vanished, by the angled, slope of the hills, I
lay there in the darkness unmoving praying, it would keep
going, My heart pounded against my rib cage and each passing
second crawled by I considered jumping up to close the
curtains, but I couldn't bring myself to do it too risky.
After a while silence settled back in broken, only by the
croque of a frog, somewhere near the Stream.
Still, I stayed in place. The urge to flee or scream
battled with the instinct to remain.
Absolutely still Dawn. Eventually sneaked in through
the window, orange light stretching across the floor,
Only then did I dare to move? My body ached from being tensed
all night, and my eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep.
No matter how hard I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't
dismiss what I had witnessed. Whatever.
I had seen was real and it was big.
I had no doubt. It was connected to the Ruckus
In the Aldergrove. Part of me wanted to warn
everyone. Shout that we needed to
barricade the house. But I also knew my parents would
just shake their heads. My brother might believe me he'd
heard that Roar too, but I wasn't sure how much more I
could say before sounding hysterical that morning the
chore list was waiting for me as usual pin to the fridge.
I had no choice but to head outside.
Again, the memory of that giant silhouette still etched in my
mind. The world felt just a little
less secure and I realized with growing unease that I might
never view our farm the same way again the morning after I
spotted that silhouette outside my window, I tried one last time
to convince my parents, something far bigger than any
bear roamed our property. My mother cut me off with a
patient smile, telling me to worry less about monsters and
more about my chores. My dad equally skeptical.
Suggested. I packed some pepper spray.
If I was so nervous, it was maddening. only, my older
brother believed me and that was mostly because he'd been there
in the Aldergrove when the forest erupted with that,
terrifying, Roar Even then I sensed to flicker of doubt in
his eyes, like, he wondered, if maybe I was over hyping, the
nighttime sighting. Still, I couldn't let it go.
Every trip to the barn, every Trek to the far pasture.
I found myself scanning the tree line for anything out of place.
At night, I'd lie awake, listening for heavy footsteps or
another earth-shaking Roar. Sleep became rare.
Each day, I was more convinced our land wasn't ours alone.
When my brother finally admitted he was tired of tossing and
turning himself, we made a pact to figure it out or at least
confront whatever was lurking. We waited until the moon Rose
High again, just shy of full, under the cover of Darkness, We
snuck out of the house with a flash light and to hand me down
camera. We agreed to stake out, the edge
of the property line near the dirt road where I had last seen
that colossal figure the night was cold enough to sting our
lungs when we breathed and the air felt heavy with apprehension
Beyond The Faint ring of our flashlight's beam.
The world was a black canvas. Even the barn usually a
comforting sight looked like a looming shape of wooden, slats
and rusted metal. At first, we heard only the hum
of crickets and an occasional distant Shuffle from the cattle.
Then a low resonant thump, reached our ears, it sounded
like something. Incredibly large was maneuvering
through the undergrowth branches, scratching together in
the dark. We tensei gripping each other's
arms for support. The cattle started to move
restlessly in their pain, letting out anxious moose as
though sensing a nearby threat. Suddenly a roar shattered, the
silence very much like the one we'd heard weeks ago.
It reverberated through my rib cage, urgent and Furious.
My brother fumbled with the flash light nearly dropping it.
In that half-second of wild swinging light, I spotted a
hulking outline at the far. End of the pasture partially
masked by Shadow before, we could get a better.
Look, the roar came again, it wasn't closing in, it felt more
like a warning. my brother yanked, me backward, and we
sprinted for the house My feet barely registered the ground, I
expected to feel hot breath at my back or since the pounding of
massive footsteps behind us. But that didn't happen.
Once we reached the porch, we dared to glance over our
shoulders. The pasture lay still and dark
the cattle, jittery but not in full Panic, the Creature.
If it had followed, it all had melted back into the night.
The next day, our parents noted, how rattled we looked, but no
miraculous conversion happened. Still, the two of us had our
proof at least in our own minds. We knew something had chosen our
property as part of its domain. I asked myself if we should call
the police or maybe some Wildlife official, but all I had
was a murky outline and Aurora that defied any normal
explanation. In the end, we settled into an
unspoken deal, we'd be more careful move quietly around the
lower fields and leave it to its own territory.
Over time, the knights became calmer for us I never forgot the
heft of that roar or the powerful shape.
That left me trembling. But it seemed content to keep
its distance if we kept ours. I like to think our land holds
more than meets the eye. A slice of raw Wilderness where
man doesn't fully reign. Sometimes I still wonder if I
should have fought harder for the world to believe my story.
Then again maybe this strange truce was exactly what?
Let life go on, and that was enough for me.
I've been living out here in the Appalachian Mountains for most
of my life. And I always thought I knew what
to expect once the sun went down.
Coyotes yipping in the distance. Maybe a black bear rustling
around, nothing much, shakes me. But on this night, everything
changed. Let me start by saying my
evening had been uneventful, just chores and a quick dinner
before midnight rolled around Jack's my retriever was curled
up by the fireplace. Like, he always is.
He's the most relaxed dog on the planet, rare even barks, unless
the male Man shows up That's why I nearly dropped my coffee when
I heard this growl coming from him, deep and raw, unlike
anything I'd heard before. I glanced at him and saw he was
standing Ridgid hackles raised eyes fixed on the window.
I couldn't see anything but my own reflection in the glass and
I tried to shrug it off, mumbling, something like easy
buddy. But inside, I was rattled.
I've never seen Jack's look. That tense.
Tail stiff knows practically glued to the window, it was
enough to get my heart pounding. Soon.
I realized I still had to lock up my workshop down the slope
behind the house. Normally this isn't a big deal,
just a quick trip in the dark with a flashlight, but the way
Jax was acting, let's just say I was on edge.
Still, I convinced myself, it was no big deal.
I grabbed my coat, clicked on the flash light and headed out
Jack's insisted on coming practically pressing against my
leg with every step. Outside.
The air felt strange. I couldn't Place why?
Maybe it was too still. No crickets.
No win through the branches. Just a heavy quiet.
Halfway to the workshops. Let out another warning growl
that made my stomach tighten. Before I could turn on my heel,
I noticed the workshop door was slightly open, even though I was
sure I had closed at early. My chest felt tight, but I
forced myself to keep going, I tugged the door shut and locked
it. And that's when this insane
commotion erupted in the woods behind me.
I can't fully do the sound justice, but it was like a
sudden surge of noise tearing through the undergrowth.
Branches, snapping leaves crunching almost like a crowd
sprinting among the trees. I froze and Jax just pressed
against me teeth bared. Whatever caused that.
Ruckus had to be larger than a raccoon or Fox.
It sounded massive My hands were shaking so badly, that I fumbled
with the flash light, nearly dropping it.
I backed up toward the house, trying not to break into a
Sprint though. My legs were begging me to run
the closer. We got to the porch the more
frantic everything felt I got inside practically shoved, the
door shut and slid. The deadbolt into place.
My brain was racing, trying to explain what.
I just heard a bunch of deer a bear with Cubs.
But it was so loud, so widespread like multiple
creatures. I stood in the hall, way breath,
hitching Jacks at my feet staring at the door, I realized
I'd left my pistol of stairs. Adrenaline was making my hands
tremble. My pulse hammered, as I rushed
to my bedroom, grab the gun and made sure it was loaded.
I've never felt so desperate to be armed in my own home.
Just as I debated whether to investigate or hide Jax, let out
a bark. That bark.
He only does that when something seriously wrong.
So against every Instinct, I headed back out onto the porch
with my flashlight and Pistol, My chest was tight, my breathing
uneven, but I needed to know if there was an intruder or some
animal messing around. I scan the tree line with the
beam nothing moved. Silence.
Reigned almost unnaturally as though.
Nature itself took a step back waiting to see what I do next.
Then just as I was about to turn and go inside, I heard this low
murmur more like a swarm of hushed voices than a single
sound. It came from the very edge of my
property. Out near where the trees
thickened. My stomach dropped.
It didn't sound like English, but it was disturbingly close to
speech. Jax whimpered tail tucked.
As if he wanted to drag me inside, I couldn't see anything,
but it felt like eyes were on me a presence, both everywhere and
nowhere. The murmurs seemed to shift
Direction, echoing out from multiple spots at once.
My lights swept across the yard revealing not one silhouette.
Not one flicker of movement, yet the voices.
If that's what they were, didn't stop.
A wave of nausea hit me so hard. I thought I might collapse right
there on the porch. I forced myself to breathe
through it. Whispering Jax's name for a
shred of comfort. After what felt like ages, I
managed to pull myself back inside.
That door had never felt so flimsy.
I latched it and checked the windows, two to turn on any
indoor lights, hoping that Darkness would hide me.
The night wasn't over though. I had a terrible feeling.
This was only the beginning. Like, whatever was out there,
wasn't done with me. That was the moment I realized I
wasn't just dealing with some random animal.
This felt orchestrated purposeful and it was tightening
around me step by step. I didn't have a clue, what was
causing it, but I knew one thing.
For sure, my home my safe space was no longer secure.
Jackson's instincts had been right from the start and I
dreaded what might be next. I had barely closed my eyes for
a second, couldn't rest, even if I tried with every nerve in my
body on high alert, Jax was tense pacing, the living room
and refusing to leave the front door.
I kept the lights off thinking, somehow it would make me less of
a Target. My phone sat on the table, but
out here in the middle of nowhere.
Good luck. Trying to call for help.
Even if I did get a signal, what could I possibly say to
Emergency Services? Hello.
Yes, there are voices surrounding my house and I don't
see anyone but my dog is freaking out.
That weird muttering from outside seemed to vibrate
through the walls, like a low chorus of Whispers, just behind
the wooden panels. It was maddening because I
couldn't single out of phrase or identify if it was even human
speech. it Rose and fell in waves and every so often it
almost sounded like Chanting, I guess.
I was too rattled to be sure. All I knew was that my gut told
me, there were multiple presences out there more than
one set of footsteps had circled the house.
After I first came inside, After another minute of pacing.
I finally thought screw it. I need to see what's happening.
I edged over to the window beside my front door, careful,
not to rustle the curtains. The instant I leaned forward,
the noise outside, cut off, like someone hit a switch.
In its place was the deepest, most all-consuming silence.
Not a single insect chirping. No rustle of leaves.
Just my own ragged breathing, I can't express how unsettling it
is. To realize that whatever's out
there knows when you move The second I froze, I heard a slight
Shuffle near the corner of the house.
Then that quiet murmuring started back up again.
More agitated than before I grabbed my pistol from the
coffee table and quietly approached, another window that
looked out toward the gravel driveway.
Jack's followed ears down and tail stiff as if he expected an
attack. When I shifted the curtain a
millimeter, The mumbles Faded out again.
Something was definitely keyed into every movement, I made, and
that realization caused my stomach to churn.
Time dragged on. I checked my phone 147.
Mm. It had only been an hour since I
had first heard that thunderous crashing in the woods, but it
felt like half the night had passed.
I decided to kill the darkness with a chance at visibility.
So I clicked on the porch light, Nothing in the yard, nobody's
know, shapes. Not even astray raccoon.
My flash light remained on the table but I felt no urge to go
out there again. A part of me sensed.
If I opened that door, I would be swallowed whole Jax's eyes
stayed locked on the windows. Now and then a single, footstep
crunched, the gravel outside slow and deliberate One Step.
Pause, another step, pause. It was unbearable not to open a
window and yell but I couldn't bring myself to be that
Reckless. My mind kept thinking back on
Old stories from my grandparents.
About things in the Hills that were not exactly animal and not
quite human either. Tails.
I'd once to missed his pure folklore.
But here I was feeling cornered by something I couldn't see.
To keep myself sane. I jotted notes on a pad what
times I heard the footsteps, what they sounded like how the
whispering seemed to move around the property in a clockwise
pattern, once or twice, I considered switching on music or
the TV just to drown it out, but a voice in my head told me to
stay alert, not to mask the sound.
After all, if something crashed through the door I needed to
know. Instantly.
Hours crawled. By this way, my nerves were
shot. My hands clammy and every muscle
ached with tension. I found myself drifting off only
to jolt awake seconds later whenever Jack's twitched.
It was like living on a fault line, expecting the Earth to
Quake at any moment. Meanwhile, the murmurs persisted
outside underscored by that dead.
Silent hush, whenever I tried to move.
It was a twisted game, they made sure.
I knew they were there but not once.
Did I see a face or a form? Sometime around 4:30 or maybe
closer to 5 a.m. the tone of the murmuring changed hard to
explain, but the pitch went lower almost guttural.
Then slowly, the sound started drifting away deeper into the
woods, I caught faint rustling through the thick brush, then a
final few snaps of branches, in their wake frogs, croaked, and a
couple of birds called it was as if the natural world had been
stifled all night. And finally, breathed, again
relief washed over me. But it wasn't that comforting I
still felt like I might vomit from the stress.
I checked each window for any sign of movement, nothing.
The gravel driveway looked untouched aside from my own
footprints. Jax gradually relaxed though.
He wouldn't lie down until the first pale light of dawn crept
across the horizon. Once I was fairly certain, the
immediate threat had disappeared, I stepped outside
onto the porch for a breath of air.
Pistol, clutch, tight in my hand.
The yard was a mess of broken branches and the lingering smell
of disturbed, soil, clung to the morning Breeze.
Yet bizarrely. There were no Footprints, no,
trace of a crowd or gang of animals.
The only proof was in my shaking Limbs and Jax's raw Edge stare.
I spent Sunrise going back and forth, mentally replaying each
horrifying moment. My place still felt uneasy like
The Echoes of those voices might start up again any second.
I didn't dare pack up and leave part of me needed to know if
this was a one-time nightmare or an ongoing threat.
I down two cups of coffee, watched the brightening sky and
told myself, I'd figure out what to do next.
For now, daylight, was my only shield and I was not about to
let my guard down. Jackson, and I sat there in a
haunted silence expecting something to re-emerge, hoping,
that it wouldn't Sunrise. Brought the faintest sense of
relief, yet my nerves still buzzed with every stray sound I
locked the doors sealed every window and tried to make sense
of what had just happened, but nothing about it fit neatly into
the realm of normal. Part of me wanted to believe
that it was some freak incident. Maybe a collective hallucination
brought on by stress. Still the unease in my chest
whispered that whatever took up residence in the darkness, that
night is out there. Lurking beyond the edges of
Reason waiting for another moment to slip back into my
world. For now, I've recounted every
detail here, hoping to warn others.
Sometimes the Eerie Stories We dismiss might be true or than
were willing to admit. I've been drawn to the
Appalachian for as long as I can remember.
Something about those towering slopes and shadowy Hollows.
Always felt like a Gateway into a different world.
Beautiful. Yet laced with an unsettling
Aura, that's tough to articulate.
A few friends and I decided to head out to Holly River State
Park in West Virginia, Lord by rumors of an old family,
Cemetery hidden up on a ridge. We had only a vague idea of
where it might be. All we knew was that we needed
to follow a Winding Trail that cut through dense undergrowth
before. Climbing up toward this rumored
graveyard. So the three of us piled into my
car early that morning excited by the prospect of a Day hike.
The drive itself was so quiet. That we began making offhand
jokes. Like something was waiting out
there just beyond View. Maybe it was nerves talking, or
maybe I had too much coffee. Either way, my stomach, churned
in, that weird way, it does. When you're both excited in half
spooked, when we arrived the parking lot near the main
Trailhead had a few vehicles but we didn't cross paths with any
actual people. The entire Place seemed
deserted. We Shrugged figuring.
Everyone must have already started their morning tracks.
After all Holly river is a decently sized Park.
Folks could be scattered across countless trails.
I tried to keep my mind on the gorgeous landscape moss, covered
Stones towering Hardwoods, and the occasional chirp of a
distant bird. Yet, there was this hush
Underneath It All like nature had dialed itself down a notch.
We kicked off our hike around midday.
The sky was overcast. So the light filtering through
the branches came in muted, silvery patches.
The trail was pretty well worn at first.
So we made quick progress, the chatter between us died off.
Once we noticed how oddly calm the forest, felt everything
about the place. Demanded our attention from the
Tangled Roots, underfoot to the looming, canopy overhead
occasionally. We'd catch snatches of movement
in our peripheral vision, maybe squirrels but the scuttling
always stopped the moment. We tried to look closer, my
friend commented, that it seemed like the place was sizing us up
and nobody argued. We pressed on climbing steadily.
Eventually we left the official Trail in search of that old
graveyard. The path, we followed was more
of a half remembered rumor than a marked route, a Fallen Tree
forced us to detour through thick brush.
And my arms got scratched up enough that I started wishing
we'd picked an easier Day, hike, Still, I couldn't help feeling
compelled to keep going. There was a raw ancient field to
the land that I couldn't let go of A couple hours in the terrain
turns steep loose, Stones threatened to send us sliding if
we weren't careful and we had to cling to expose routes for
stability. We nearly missed the cemetery
altogether spotting it only because of a warped Iron Gate
that caught the corner of my friends.
I A row of Leaning Tombstone, stood beyond the lettering on
them faded in chipped. If I didn't know any better, I'd
say they'd been here for centuries.
Up close. The graveyard gave off an
atmosphere that bordered on oppressive.
The headstones born names, we could barely read, and the
ground was covered in Tangled weeds.
The three of us wandered, taking pictures and gingerly brushing
aside, overgrown Vines. Every so often a subtle Breeze
would move past us bringing with it, a musty odor.
That reminded me of damp soil and decaying leaves.
My pulse was hammering in my ears for reasons.
I couldn't explain but I tried to play it cool.
We stayed longer than we intended mostly because we were
fascinated and maybe a little horrified by the idea that
entire families could be buried out here forgotten by time.
Each time the wind picked up. We paused half expecting
something or someone to step out from behind those.
Looming trees. It was all in my head.
I told myself probably just a side effect of being in a
graveyard at sunset. By the time we left the sun had
started sliding down the sky, painting The Ridge, in murky,
oranges and purples. We hadn't planned on night
hiking, but it was creeping up on us fast, the idea of
navigating a dark Forest Trail, made our nerves Spike.
So we decided the parks Main Road would be safer even if it
was a bit out of the way. We figured it couldn't be more
than a few miles to loop around and reach the campground parking
lot. Leaving that Cemetery felt like
stepping away from a forgotten Realm.
Once we hit assemblance of a trail again, a fragile sense of
relief settled over us. But it was short-lived.
And random branches. That snagged at our clothes,
little cracks and snaps echoed in the brush.
Just enough to keep us on edge. We hurried along willing
ourselves. Not to think about the dark
shapes dancing in our peripherals.
Finally, we broke free of the tree line and spotted the
asphalt up ahead. The sense of relief was almost
overwhelming like stumbling onto a Lifeline in the middle of
nowhere. But an uneasy Vibes, still
Trails behind us. No matter how hard we tried to
shake it. The light was fading fast and
the road itself looked empty in both directions.
No cars, no people. Nothing Just a hush.
That felt downright eerie. That's where the first leg of
our journey ended with us, stepping onto that road and
peering into the early Twilight. Looking back, I realized we had
no clue how unsettling. The next stretch would be.
In the moment though, we were just grateful to be out of the
thick Woods. Little did we know that relief
was about to dissolve quicker than we could have imagined?
After stumbling out of the tree line, we reached this narrow
asphalt road that was supposed to lead us back to the
campground and for a few fleeting moments.
We were relieved no more tripping over roots or scraping
our arms on undergrowth. The wind seemed calmer too
though. I swear the air felt heavier
than it had in the woods with dusk rolling in.
We figured we had maybe three miles to cover tops, but it was
eerily quiet. I mean, you'd expect at least a
car to pass by, in a park, this side, even late in the day.
Instead, we had this winding stretch of road all to
ourselves. I remember, my friend, joking
were basically, the only people left on Earth and none of us
cracked a real smile. We picked a direction based on a
ragged sign pointing toward the campground and started walking,
the sun melting into the Horizon behind us as we hike to Long.
The darkness deepened, the trees on either side of us stood like
silent onlookers. Every so often something would
stir in the brush, maybe a small Critter or a bird, but we never
saw anything. That emptiness felt unnatural
like, the park itself was waiting for something to happen.
We'd covered about half the distance when we spotted the
Silhouettes. Up ahead illuminated by The
Faint. Remnants of Twilight were at
least five figures. They were just.
Standing there in the middle of the road as if they were waiting
for us. Relief, surged through me for a
second thankful that we weren't the only ones out there.
My friend even waved, though. None of them waved back.
We moved closer calling out a timid.
Hay or two hoping for some response.
Nothing. They were close enough now that
I should have been able to make out features faces hair color
clothing details. But it was like, I could only
see the general shape of them as if the light was playing tricks.
The weirdest part was that they didn't make a sound.
No conversation, no footsteps shuffling on asphalt.
They were just there like placeholders then without
warning, they started to fade. One by one, they flickered in
and out until all that remained was a vacant stretch of road.
The three of us were rooted in place.
Trying to process what was happening.
We weren't imagining this. There had to be a rational
explanation. Maybe our eyes were messing with
us after the dim Forest. Or maybe they just slipped away
into the dark. But as we reach the exact spot
where we'd seen them, it was clear.
There was no where to go on one side, a sheer drop fell away
into a valley. The other side was a jagged
slope of rock, that would have been nearly impossible to climb
quietly, even in broad daylight. The asphalt itself looked
undisturbed no Footprints no. Sign of scuffling not even a
stray candy wrapper. Just empty roads stretching off
into the Shadows, a cold sense of dread settled over us.
We hung around for a minute shining phone flash lights and
calling out but nobody answered. The idea of those figures just
evaporating forced our attention up several notches.
I couldn't tell if we'd witness something Supernatural, or if my
eyes were conspiring against me in the low light.
Either way, it triggered a kind of Primal Fear.
I have not too often in my life. We finally decided to press on
Hearts thumping from the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Every step from, then on felt like it.
Echoed a little too loudly. We kept glancing back convinced,
we'd see the group again trailing behind us, or maybe
popping up ahead. But there was nothing.
At one point I caught a whiff of a faint odor.
Sort of earthy and decayed but it was gone as soon as I noticed
it. By then we were moving faster
than I'd ever hiked in my life. The final stretch to the
campground. Felt like a fever dream.
Each of us expecting something horrible to Lurch out of the
darkness. When we finally caught sight of
the campground sign, it was like stepping into another world.
Only, there were any people there, either the entire place
was disturbingly quiet, save for the distant Russell of trees.
Usually a State Park, campground has some Buzz campfires
crackling murmured conversations, maybe a dog
barking. We got nothing.
Our car was right where we left it sitting in a patch of moonlit
gravel. I can't describe how relieved I
was to see it. We clambered inside locking the
doors more out of instinct than necessity, who locks up in a
lonely Campground. But something about that night
made every protective move feel Justified.
My friend, the ignition and we peeled out headlights.
Pushing back the darkness, a little that entire drive out of
the park. I kept expecting those figures
to emerge from the trees or appear in the rearview mirror.
Only once we hit the main Highway, did we dare speak about
it in more than Whisperers? We tossed around ideas Mass,
hallucination, Illusions caused by the fading light or maybe
some group of locals messing with us.
Still, none of those explanations explain the silent.
Disappearance act Days Later. Every time I closed my eyes, I
see those Silhouettes Flicker and vanished like they'd never
existed at all. I've heard plenty of stories
about weird sightings in the Appalachians ghostly.
Hikers, Phantom lantern lights bobbing through the trees.
But until that night, I brushed them off as campfire Tales.
Now, I'm not so sure. All I know is that something
happened on that silent Road? And I can't shake the idea of
that. It was a glimpse into the
unknown. That's the story of how a simple
day trip to Holly River spiraled into a haunting mystery that
continues to nod me. Was it some lost echo of the
parks passed or did we stumble into something far Stranger than
we were prepared to handle. Honestly, I still don't have an
answer. But there's one thing I can say,
for sure the image of those five figures dissolving in the
Twilight is going to stay with me.
I guess not every twist in these old mountains.
Needs a tidy, explanation. Sometimes it's enough to know
that the darkness holds more secrets than we can ever hope to
understand. I'm writing this because every
time I look back on my experience out there, I end up
pacing around my apartment, uneasy and Restless.
People love talking about the Appalachian Trail as if it's
just Scenic overlooks and friendly hikers.
But I learned there's a lot more than meets the eye.
Before I ever set foot on that route, I was the type of person
who devoured paranormal stories. Something about the unknown.
Always grabbed my attention, maybe it's just human nature to
chase Mysteries. By the time, I started planning
my extended track, I had convinced myself that I was more
prepared than most for whatever I find in those ancient
mountains. The reality completely
different. I remember my first stretch near
Blood Mountain history loomed around every Bend, not just from
the Civil War sights but from the remnants of tribal conflicts
that went on long before European settlers showed up, The
ground felt worn in a way. That's tough to put into words,
like it had absorbed, centuries of voices, A couple of nights
in. I decided to Camp alone in a
spot where the trees formed a thick canopy letting in only
patches of moonlight. The moment I unrolled my
sleeping gear. I noticed that the usual night
chorus crickets distant owls had faded.
There was an odd sensation of being watched from multiple
angles. My mind started to wander and I
ended up lying awake far longer than I wanted.
The strange part is, I was positive.
I spotted movements where there shouldn't have been any
Silhouettes flitting at the periphery of my headlamps glow.
Once or twice, I had the distinct impression of a figure
standing behind a distant trunk dressed in something that didn't
fit modern times. I never got a clear look, but
that sense of stepping across some invisible threshold.
Kept me, wired until sunrise. a few weeks later, I ventured
closer to Harpers Ferry where you can literally walk among the
traces of the Civil War, trenches, One late afternoon as
the light shifted from gold to adult gray.
I saw a person in old-style military gear, drifting along a
sunken path. My brain tried to rationalize.
Maybe it's a reenactor, maybe I was exhausted but the person or
whatever it was vanished, almost instantly the spot fell silent
like everything around had decided to pause.
For a second. I questioned if I was alone in
that Corridor of battered Earth it left me on edge for the next
several days, scanning every Ridgeline, in case something
else appeared but nothing compares to the night a bear and
I had our awkward confrontation I'd rigged up a hammock between
two sturdy Trunks and dozed off lulled by the distant rustling.
At some unknown, our a firm Pride against my back startled,
me away. I reacted without thinking
twisting around and striking with my hand.
I connected with fur and realized in horror it was a
bear's muzzle. Adrenaline shot through me as I
waited for it to decide if I was more trouble than I was worth.
Instead, it crashed off through the brush leaving me stunned and
trying to slow my breathing. The rest of that evening, every
single noise made me tents up braced for a second round that
thankfully never came. Funny thing is, when I mentioned
this to people, they usually fixate on the bearing counter.
They don't realize that animals wild as they might be.
Don't compare to the unsettling presence that seems embedded in
parts of this Trail. That feeling of History.
Refusing to let go. Those fleeting glimpses of
things. Wearing outdated clothes, the
heavy atmosphere around certain places.
It's all their woven into the land.
I tell myself these experiences were just the product of
fatigue. Maybe I just been reading too
many ghost stories. Yet something nagged at me like
I had stumbled onto a realm where the past occasionally
slips through the cracks. later in Pennsylvania, I'd discover
what true dread can feel like That however, is a story for
another post one that still keeps me alert at odd hours
replaying. Every step I took through that
long dark night. I thought I'd seen the worst of
the trail run ins with spooky Silhouettes and a half asleep.
Confrontation with a bear, had me convinced I was prepared for
anything. Turns out.
Pennsylvania wanted to prove me wrong after crossing the state
line. I remember feeling oddly
optimistic, The weather was pleasant enough and I decided to
sleep under the stars rather than set up any shelter.
The sky was so clear earlier that evening and I wanted to
experience the Open Air Force. I laid out my sleeping pad and
got comfy in my bag, surrounded by trees, and that faint hum of
nighttime insects eventually I drifted off.
Sometime past midnight, I woke up with my heart thumping.
The night had gone dead silent. Which rattled me?
Normally you'd at least hear a hooting owl or wind rustling the
branches. Instead a thin Eerie wine,
reverberated all around, it was so soft, like it was trying not
to exist. But it also seemed inescapable.
Every instinct told me, I shouldn't remain there.
My breathing fell tight, and the air felt heavier than usual as
if some Invisible Presence had crept in and settled, on top of
me. I tried to tell myself, I was
overreacting that it might just be the Wind Through the leaves
or some small animal. Yet, the wine didn't change
pitch, didn't shift Direction, didn't do anything.
I'd label as normal. The Dread in the pit of my
stomach wasn't something I could shrug off.
Within minutes. I wish shoving gear back into my
pack fumbling for my headlamp. It took every ounce of
willpower, not to panic and run blindly through the dark.
The moment I found the trail markers and started moving the
heaviness slowly ease. After maybe half a mile, the
sensation broke like stepping out of a dense fog.
The noise faded into nothingness, and I stood there
leaning on a tree. My mind racing.
Part of me wanted to turn back search for some logical
explanation. The rest of me argued that I
should get as far from that spot as possible.
In the end, I kept going. Even now, I haven't made sense
of what happened or what was possibly lurking in that empty
patch of forest? A few days later, a storm
caught, me and a group of thru-hikers near Mount Rogers.
Rain hammered the metal roof of a simple shelter, thunder
rolling across the sky. We were soaked, shivering and
half-starved. Someone remembered that a local
pizza place would deliver to the parking lot if you sweet talk
them enough, the idea of hot food and maybe a six-pack, had a
pooling, whatever money we had left.
After a tense. Wait, Lightning flickering in
the distance. We spotted headlights.
Naturally, we figured our food had arrived.
Several of us shuffled out into the downpour layered in soaked.
Closed boots, caked in mud hair plastered to our faces.
We must have looked like a nightmare.
The driver saw us coming and slammed on the high.
Beams tires screeched, reverse lights glowed, bright red, and
the van spun around so fast. We all stood there and
confusion. We watched the vehicle vanish
back down the road fishtailing like it was desperate to escape.
We exchanged baffled. Looks water dripping down our
faces and laughed nervously. Some of the groups started
joking. Maybe we seemed like Forest
ghouls or something. Five minutes later like
clockwork, a different car, pulled up and this time the
driver hopped out completely unfazed.
Apparently, he was the real Pizza Guy used to hike in all
their rain, soaked Glory. He handed over hot pizza boxes,
a few cans of cheap beer and chuckled about us looking like
zombies. I can only guess what?
The first driver's story would be afterward, how a band of
Unholy creatures approached his van in the middle of nowhere at
night. In those moments, I realized
that the Appalachian Trail doesn't just feed on spooky
Legends. sometimes, genuine comedy and confusion overshadow,
the fear Yet for all the laughs we shared over that botched
pizza delivery. I still had the memory of that
unsettling wine in Pennsylvania, fresh, in my head.
I couldn't help but wonder if I don't only scratched the
surface. The trail has this way of
revealing its Secrets when you least expect it.
One minute. You're joking around dripping
wet begging for food. The next you're bolting from an
unexplainable force in the dead of night. even now I look back
at Pennsylvania and feel a Pang of discomfort Whatever.
I sensed out there, whatever generated that unearthly noise
made me think there are places along the trail better left
alone, maybe forever. And yet part of me can't resist
the pole to keep exploring half expecting to stumble onto some
ancient mystery that refuses to stay buried.
Guess that's the real Paradox of the Appalachian Trail.
It draws you in with beauty, then leaves you with questions
that linger night after night. I was closing in on Duncannon
feeling that mix of exhaustion and excitement that comes when
you're too far gone to turn around but not quite close
enough to celebrate. About 10 miles out, I spotted a
small group of older women huddled around, a couple of
picnic tables near the trail, they waved me over with warm
Smiles. So I joined them to rest my legs
a bit. They asked if I was a through
hiker and seemed genuinely thrilled about my progress.
We traded a few stories. I told them where I started, how
many states had already trudged through.
It felt like your average friendly chatter until they
asked where I was sleeping that night.
Soon, as I mentioned, some older shelter, a few miles shy of town
their energy shifted. One of them said you should
really head into Duncannon tonight while another repeated,
the advice, adding nothing else, just the same warning, none of
them. Spelled out.
Why? And I remember thinking are they
worried about the weather or something?
But their eyes had this urgency. Like they knew something I
didn't. I tried to press them for
details, but they brushed it off insisting.
It'd be better if I pushed onto town.
My pack was heavy. And my feet were screaming at
me. So heading all the way in, felt
like an extra challenge. Their unease was contagious,
though. As I said, my goodbyes that
tension, They Carried clung to me like a damp chill.
By late afternoon, I found myself.
Turning off the main stretch of the Appalachian Trail following
a steep side path toward the shelter.
The slope was trickier than I expected with old roots and
loose stones. That had me stumbling more than
once. Overhead, the light was already
starting to fade behind thick branches.
Normally, I would be okay with a few hours of dusk hiking, but
something about that place. Just felt heavy.
Eventually I reached two battered structures that I knew
from my guidebook were built by Earl Shaffer.
He was basically a t royalty having.
Been the first person to ever hiked the entire Trail in one
go. The shelters looked ancient
sagging in spots and the musty boards gave off a whiff of age
and wrote. Nearby was a new shelter under
construction and even from a distance I noticed carved faces
on the beam ends. They peered out in a way.
I couldn't quite describe like silent observers in the Dying
Light. I could have stayed in the
half-finished shelter, but it seemed even more unsettling with
those carved heads. So I stuck to one of the old
ones. Inside the shelter's floor was
just round logs placed side by side barely lifted off the
ground. It made for a pretty uneven
sleeping surface. I figured I'd seen worse.
This was the ATF after all, but something about that.
Ricky setup gave me an odd sense of discomfort.
I tried to focus on other things.
Next day is mileage where I get water a possible zero day in
Duncannon. But whenever I paused that
prickly awareness returned like I wasn't alone.
I kept glancing around seeing nothing but old wood leaves and
a few spiders skittering in the corners.
I made dinner quickly more to keep my hands busy than anything
every so often a gust of wind would whistle through the beams
and the shelter groaned. Like it had a voice of its own.
My mind, flicked, back to the women at the picnic tables.
Why were they? So insistent I shouldn't be
here. The question nagged at me but
without a concrete reason, I brushed it off as local
Superstition or overprotection. Night fell harder than usual.
It seemed the woods beyond the shelter, entrance looked like a
solid wall of black. My headlamp beamed danced
around. Catching the edges of rocks and
Roots outside but I couldn't shake the weirdness.
I tried to sleep, but my senses stayed on high alert.
Sometimes a crack of a branch snapped, me away or a rustle of
movement made me think there was someone or something lurking,
Beyond The Circle of Life. When morning finally arrived,
the relief. I fell was intense packing up.
I almost sprinted up that trail my body protesting the sudden
climb, but my mind demanding, we get moving.
With each step. The weight of the place seemed
to lessen replaced by fresh air, and the promise of Duncannon
comforts. Still, I couldn't completely
shake a lingering unease like I just crawled out from under a
dark cloud. It wasn't until I reached Town
found a phone and updated my mail.
Drop contact that I got slapped in the face with the real story.
I mentioned that shelter offhandedly, describing it as
seriously creepy. That's when she told me about
the two hikers, they'd been South bounders, having a
friendly chat with a random bar Patron.
In Duncannon later that night this same Patron, had followed
them to that very shelter waited until they were asleep and
murdered them hearing it made my stomach, twists replaying every
odd Vibe. I'd felt every unsettling sound
during the night. Those women at the picnic.
Tables had tried to warn me but they couldn't bring themselves
to say why out loud? I felt a hollow in my chest
knowing now what happened in these walls, it was more than
just an old shelter, it was a crime scene, a place stained by
something. Monstrous If I had known what, I
still have slept there. Maybe not.
But the thought of it being so close to where two people lost
their lives, shifted the trail in my mind.
The Wilderness wasn't just bears and storms.
It could hold human Darkness too.
And I had just walked right into it.
I came back to that stretch of the trail a few years later.
I hadn't really planned on returning.
There was a part of me that wanted to avoid that entire area
after learning, what had gone down at the old shelters.
But life, in my hiking routes, had a funny way of circling back
on themselves. Before I knew it, I was standing
at the same cut off from the main trail, peering down the
slope with this knot in my stomach.
The trees here. Looked familiar yet different.
Maybe older or scarred by storms.
Sunlight trickled through the canopy and thin beams and a low
breeze. Made the branches sway.
I swear it felt like the forest was, reminding me.
We remember what happened here? Going down that path.
I half expected to see the two old shelters just as they'd
been, my memory was Vivid, those ramshackle logs, the musty smell
the new shelter, mid-construction with the carved
faces, But when I reached the bottom, I was greeted by an
entirely changed scene. The two ancient structures had
been torn out. No Trace, but a few piles of
splintered wood near the edge of the clearing.
Instead the new shelter stood proudly in their place fully
completed. The carved faces, I'd Glimpse
years ago were still there only now Smooth by weather or maybe
by countless hikers, running their hands along them.
They seemed less like art and more like, watchful eyes.
I hesitated feeling a swirl of relief that the murderous old
shelters were gone mixed with a weird Nostalgia for the original
version of the place even if it had been dangerously creepy.
As I moved closer, I noticed someone sitting on the
newly-built port porch sipping from a battered canteen. he wore
a bandana and looked like, he'd seen a lot of Trail miles When
he looked up, I nodded a greeting and he waved me over.
We got to talk as hikers, do turns out he'd threw hike the
trail a few years back and had come out for a weekend getaway.
It wasn't long before we drifted into the subject of the areas
Grim history. Apparently there was a formal
dedication ceremony, once the new shelter was finished.
And from what he'd heard Earl Schaffer himself had been their
only to be brushed off or overshadowed by certain
officials. Folks who didn't get the depth
of his contribution or maybe just didn't care hearing that.
Made me bristle, Earl had literally shaped part of the
trails Legacy. These shelters, the story of the
first through hike and it hurt to imagine him being sidelined.
The conversation, took a darker turn when we ventured into the
topic of those murders. My companion knew about them
too. Of course, everyone whose hiked
this area for long enough, picks up the rumors, if not the exact
details, But he also mentioned how despite the tragedy folks in
town tried to move on. The new shelter was supposed to
symbolize a fresh start, a safe space for hikers passing
through. Only.
He said some people believed the land itself.
Still felt tainted. As though the violence of that
night hadn't just vanished. When the old shelters got ripped
out. Have you felt it?
He asked me eyes locked onto mine.
That heavy quiet. I gave a slow nod.
Remembering the sensation of dread from my own first night
here. We both fell into silence
broken, only by the rustle of wind in the distant Battle of a
creek. Eventually he packed up and left
heading back towards town. I hung around a bit taking in
the new shelter. It looked perfectly ordinary
from the outside, just sturdy beams, a proper roof and enough
space to fit a handful of hikers, but those carved faces
unnerved me. Maybe it was just my imagination
but I could have sworn. They were almost aware as if
they'd seen more than they let on listening for Footsteps in
the night. Later on, I found myself walking
North again. The trail was peaceful, the kind
of gentle climb that usually empties my mind of worries.
Only this time. My thoughts kept drifting back
to what it happened there. I wondered if a Fresh coat of
wood in a brand new name, could really erase the memory of two
hikers. Who'd never made it out. a piece
of meat doubted it A few weeks down, the line, I came across
Pierce Pawn shelter in Maine. Beautiful spot.
Picturesque Pond vibrant autumn colors.
But the instant I got there. I felt a paying of that.
Same uneasy tension, I'd experienced in Pennsylvania.
It wasn't rational. There was no recorded tragedy, I
knew of no creeping murderer, lurking behind a pine tree.
Still the place. Had this hush.
Like it was waiting for something.
I tried shaking it off, chalking it up to hiker, paranoia or
lingering Trauma. From that other shelter. yet as
the sun dipped below the Pines, the atmosphere felt suffocating
Every Russell outside set my nerves on edge.
That's when I started to wonder if it was me, if I was carrying
this Darkness from shelter to shelter replacing it in every
unfamiliar corner of the trail. The thought alone was enough to
keep me Wide Awake scanning for Silhouettes in the dark,
eventually exhaustion won. And I drifted off, but not
peacefully in the morning, the chill still clung to me.
I realized it's not as simple as a single terrible event in one
place or some new construction replacing old bones.
The trail might be full of kind souls and breathtaking sights,
but it can also trap Echoes of the worst moments experienced by
those who walked it. The deeper truth is that no
matter how many signs we put up or improvements, We Make History
has a nasty habit of Haunting whatever ground.
It clings to I left Pierce Pawn shelter, feeling a little more
shaken, a little more aware of how quickly these Woods can go
from comforting to unnerving. And as I hiked on the thought,
kept circling in my head, the real danger out here isn't
always the wildlife or the elements.
Sometimes it's the people you cross paths with and The Echoes
they leave behind long, after they're gone.
Be careful out there. I'd plan on taking it easy that
evening. Maybe practice a few fishing
knots or help. Grandpa morally tidy up the
workshop. Instead a couple of friends Ray
and Kelsey coaxed me into one last round of our favorite hide
and seek Style game. It was something we'd concocted
years ago. Chasing each other through every
nook and cranny of the Appalachians behind Grandpa's
Homestead. Funny how you can grow up around
these Hills and still feel like you've barely scratched the
surface of what's out there. The house sits at the base of a
ridge that rises into dense. Hardwood forests Grandpa always
said the land has its own memory that every gust of wind and snap
of Twigs might be a signal if you listen closely enough.
I laughed at off whenever he got two mystical.
But tonight, I was starting to see where he might have the
coming from. The three of us were in the
yard, the Western sky, burning orange, where the sun dropped
behind the Ridgeline. Kelsey decided, she'd be it this
time. So, Ray, and I scampered toward
the slope. we both had camouflage jackets, more fashion
statement than functional gear, but I like to think it helped us
blend in The plan was to outsmart.
Kelsey, by moving uphill. She'd never guessed we'd take
the steeper path. Or so, we thought we crested
that slope and the first thing I noticed was how quiet the forest
had become. Usually this time of evening,
you can hear crickets winding up for their nighttime chorus,
maybe an owl calling in the distance.
That night, it felt like everything.
Pause waiting. Rey, and I talked ourselves into
a shallow dip in the ground. Just behind a line of scraggly
bushes. We had a clear view of the yard,
though. It was getting dim.
Kelsey's flash, light beamed to cross the grass below and we
congratulated ourselves on the perfect hiding spot.
All we had to do was Lie, low until she gave up easy enough.
A moment later, a low rhythmic pulse reached us like a drum
beat echoing from far off. Raise head jerked up, I glanced
at him wondering if he felt it too that buzzing in the pit of
my stomach. Drums, in this part of the
mountains. May be a local Gathering though.
It made zero sense for it to suddenly start after dusk.
The sound grew, the beat became something more than a loan drum
chanting or singing weaving in. And accompanying everything, a
Melody that shouldn't fit any of it.
A high Keening note reminiscent of bagpipes that unexpected
notes stirred, something protective in me.
Like I needed to stand up and figure out who was out there.
Except stepping forward, was the last thing I wanted to do the
music peaked reverberating through the trees.
Each note Rippling across the slope.
Ray and I we just stared at each other.
Neither wanting to speak out loud.
Even whispering to risky as if we draw unwanted attention.
My lungs begged for a deep breath.
But I tried not to make a sound, then it died away.
Gone in half a heartbeat the sudden lack of noise.
Rang in my ears more than the drum beat.
Did I couldn't bear another second of Stillness?
Ray must have felt the same because he jerked his head
downhill eyes wide. We both sprang up stumbling over
that Ridge. Gravity.
Did half the work, sending a skidding down faster than we
intended. A root snagged raised foot
nearly toppling him. I grabbed his sleeve and we both
regained balance long enough to Lurch down into the yard.
Kelsey didn't need an explanation.
She stood Frozen near The house's floodlight face pale
with confusion, Grandpa stepped onto the porch, an Old Lantern
in one hand eyebrows knit. We didn't offer much Beyond a
frantic. We heard something weird even
saying that felt like an understatement in the house we
slam the door behind us Hearts hammering.
Grandpa told us to sit voice firm but calm and started asking
questions. Ray tried to describe the
chanting and the bagpipes. While I stared out the window,
half expecting, more noise to erupt from the hills.
But everything beyond the floodlit yard was black mute.
Eventually Grandpa checked, his radio to see if there were any
announcements, some Festival, a big group, camping, a local
event, that might explain away the noise.
Nothing came through. He frowned as if something, he'd
worried about was stepping into reality.
He suggested we all stick close, even though part of me wanted to
bolt for my truck and drive into the nearest town, We ended up
huddling in the living room, not saying much.
Each time the house creaked with Knight settling in, we jerked
our heads toward the windows. Part of me thought I was
overreacting. The other parts that I couldn't
be too careful. At one point, Kelsey started
describing how it sounded almost ceremonial.
Ray kept mentioning the bagpipes how out of place.
They fell in these mountains. Grandpa just listened in
silence. Like, he was adding up bits of a
puzzle. We couldn't see.
And so we waited for Dawn, adrenaline coursing, so hard,
that sleep didn't stand a chance. whatever we heard out
there, it didn't feel like an accidental jam session, it had
the determined rhythm of something bigger, something we
weren't meant to stumble upon I glanced through the window one
more time across that slope, where the silhouette of bare
branches seemed to watch us back.
The night had only just begun and I was afraid it wasn't done
revealing what ever Secrets, lay in these Woods.
Morning, Light had a way of making the previous night.
Feel like a fever dream. But when I opened my eyes, the
knot in my gut told me, it wasn't just an overactive
imagination. Rey was already awake, pacing in
front of the fireplace. Kelsey sipped coffee at the
window staring off at the slope where we'd heard that eerie
music. the house felt tense like we were all braced for whatever
might come next, Grandpa Morley was digging through his old
field, notebooks, scattering them across the kitchen table.
He murmured to himself, as he flipped Pages, sometimes tapping
a map, he'd pinned down with an empty coffee cup.
Finally, he called us over. This area right here.
He pointed at a forested patch, just beyond the ridge.
I've heard stories about folks. Finding strange Footprints
hearing. Unexplainable sound.
Never had solid proof but no shortage of rumors.
Ray wanted answers. He kept talking about how that
chanting still echoed in his ears.
Kelsey looked as though she wanted to crawl under a blanket
and forget everything. But grandpa said, if we wanted
peace of mind, we had to see what was out there in the
daylight. I wasn't exactly thrilled but
curiosity nodded at me. The only way to settle my nerves
was to confront, whatever was lurking in those trees.
We followed the same path as the night before.
Only this time, sunbeams cut through the canopy.
The forest, felt awake. Now, Birds calling overhead, the
smell of wet leaves underfoot. My boots squelched in the soft
soil. About 20 minutes in.
We spotted footprints in the mud.
Near an old game Trail. More than one set too.
Some were big enough that I wondered if a whole group had
come through. Kelsey, knelt down tracing the
edges with her fingertips. She didn't say a word but her
expression told me she was unsettled.
As we pressed deeper, a low clearing opened up in the center
where Stones stacked in a Wide Circle, the ground was littered
with scorched branches. As if a fire had burned their
recently I kicked at a pile of Ash uncovering, What Might Have
Been animal bones, nearby Ray found shredded Fabrics snagged
on a sharp Branch checkered, like, tartan The breath caught
in my throat. Bagpipes a Scottish pattern and
those drum rhythms. None of it added up, but it sure
felt connected before we could piece things together that same
beat thrummed in the distance. All three of us froze.
And every nerve I had went on high alert.
The chanting returned and with it came a deeper resonating drum
beat that rattled through the trees.
We ducked behind an uprooted trunk peering over, as Shadows,
flickered beyond the bushes. I saw multiple figures moving at
least five or six too many to count accurately.
One carried. What looked like a bagpipe under
an arm. Another brandished, a tall staff
decorated with dangling bits of cloth or feathers.
It felt like we'd trespassed on a hidden ceremony.
My pulse roared, in my head, urging me to get moving.
Ray tugged, my jacket and we bolted.
Adrenaline drove us as we crashed through the undergrowth.
The chanting didn't fade right away.
In fact, for a moment it seemed to chase us echoing in all
directions. We burst out onto the slope
behind the homestead, nearly stumbling over each other.
Grandpa was there a rifle propped against his hip?
He took one, look at our faces and told us to get inside.
Over the next hour we told him about the footprints, the circle
of stones, the scrap of tartan and the Silhouettes with
bagpipes in hand. He listened and at the end, he
nodded like it confirmed a rumor.
He'd once heard That Generations ago certain families who settled
these Hills mixed cultures Scottish and Native American.
Keeping old traditions alive in the most secluded spots.
There was no telling if they meant harm, Grandpa plan to
notify a ranger station. See if they'd heard of any
suspicious gatherings But I think we all sense the same
foreboding truth. Whatever goes on in these Woods
After Dark might not welcome Outsiders.
We'd seen enough to know. We didn't belong out there at
night. When dusk rolled around, we
stayed close to the house porch. Lights blazing.
Kelsey kept her eyes on the ridge, looking for any flicker
of firelight or movement among the trees, Ray sat with me in
the living room occasionally glancing at the window.
Every so often, I have expected those drums to sound again.
Even if they stayed silent, I knew they were only a Heartbeat
Away tucked in the Deep Pockets of the Appalachians.
We had a name for the fear now, but it didn't make it any less
real and it didn't keep me from wondering.
If next time we might not get away, so Weasley I've always
said these Appalachian Mountains were in my bloodstream a legacy
from my grandfather in Boone, County West Virginia Every time
I roll down the highway and see, those steep ridges rising in the
distance. Something inside me, Sparks to
life like part of me recognizes home, This time though that
welcome feeling came bundled with an unsettling undercurrent.
I couldn't quite explain. The plan was simple enough.
Drive from Michigan to New York City.
Pick up my friend who needed extra help traveling, and head
back to Detroit. I done cross country treks
before so I didn't expect anything beyond the usual.
Long Haul hassle. The first few hours were on
honestly, too, quiet. I got pulled over in Ohio for a
busted headlight and even though the trooper was polite, my
nerves still buzzed the rest of the night.
The idea of sleeping in my car at a rest.
Stop sounded. Okay.
At first but every Shuffle of footsteps outside made me sit up
and Pierre into the dark. Eventually I dozed off but it
was a half-baked sort of sleep. That left me feeling ragged.
By mid-morning. I was back on the road, cutting
through Pennsylvania and drinking in the misty Peaks off
in the distance. Something about those.
Valleys always puts me on edge and at ease all at once, like I
belong there, but I also know the land can turn dangerous
without warning. The hours ticked by traffic
thickened and soon I was in the sprawling chaos of New York
City. After a painful search for
parking. I finally spotted my friend.
She hopped into my cramped, PT Cruiser and I was eager to leave
the city behind. There's a hyper awareness that
Creeps in when I'm stuck in that much congestion too many
headlights. Too many people and not enough
personal space. We were both relieved to point
the car West again. Darkness wasn't far off.
By the time, we made decent progress.
We'd agreed to pull into a large store, parking lot, somewhere in
Western Pennsylvania for the night somewhere.
Bright enough and busy enough that we wouldn't feel
vulnerable. That's where things started
getting weird. I rolled into a Walmart lost
that was mostly empty, except for a handful of cars, clustered
near the entrance. But parked a little too far out
or two vehicles that gave me a sour.
Feeling dark. Tinted windows engines, idling,
like they were waiting on something.
I tried to wave off my own paranoia, but every time I
glanced over, one of the cars, seemed to shift closer.
My friend noticed it too. She nudged my arm and whispered.
Is it just me or are they edging toward us?
Her voice was shaky and it confirmed.
I wasn't imagining things. I felt tension coil in my gut.
We decided to bail. No point in testing our luck.
Neither of us, wanted to be cornered by strangers in the
middle of the night. Pulling out of that lot.
I could feel my hands clenching the steering wheel driving away
eased. The pressure only slightly the
next rest stop. We aimed for was tucked between
shadowy ridges. Nearly deserted my headlights
swept over scattered parking spots and there in the corner
was a white Jeep newish, model tinted windows, not a soul in
sight around it. In the back of my head, I was
screaming at myself that I was just being jittery, but I
couldn't shake the thought. What if it followed us from the
lot? It seemed too coincidental, my
friend leaned forward, trying to see if anyone was inside.
And that quiet question, hung in the air.
Could it be the same one? We didn't linger long enough, to
find out, I swung the car around and got back on the highway,
half expecting that Jeeps headlights to pop up in my
mirror. For a while, it was just
darkness and winding roads. The trees crowding in on either
side. My friend and I didn't talk
much, we were both in our own heads, every distant glimmer of
lights behind us made my muscles.
Tighten A few times I caught myself, speeding pushing my old
PT Cruiser, a harder than I should have just wanting to be
around other people Bright Lights safety.
Maybe it was overblown fear or maybe not eventually we spotted
another big box store off the highway a place that was open
all night. We drifted into the lot found a
spot. Neither too hidden or two
exposed, and tried to settle in. My friend reclined, her seat
fiddling with her phone and I leaned against the door, letting
my eyes closed. The adrenaline Buzz was fading
replaced by sheer exhaustion. The plan was simple, get some
rest, wake up and push on a dawn.
That's all we needed, right? But a nagging alarm kept
sounding in the back of my mind. I couldn't help imagining a set
of headlights rolling in beside us.
Again, I'd always prided myself on having good instincts,
especially on the road and something was shouting at me to
stay alert. Maybe the night was messing with
my head. Maybe it was the Mountain Air
but I couldn't settle. I just kept checking the rear
view mirror and scanning the corners of the lot
half-conscious. Waiting for a sign that
everything was about to unravel looking back.
I should have known. I wasn't going to get a peaceful
rest. The real trouble was just around
the corner and a part of me sensed it, even then.
The mountains have a way of holding Secrets close and that
night. It felt like I was driving
straight into one. I had been through my fair share
of late night drives but none that left me quite this tents.
We'd found another big parking lot, a large store glowing in
the distance, like some lifeline and I figured we could finally
try to rest. My friend was nodding off in the
passenger seat leaning her head against the window. my eyes felt
heavy but every time I let them close, I jolt awake at the
faintest hint of movement in my mirrors at first, the lot seemed
almost peaceful, only a smattering of cars, plenty of
overhead lights and the steady hum of night shift employees,
hauling carts around, I tried to tell myself, we'd been imagining
things early or that those suspicious Vehicles were just
random folks passing through. Then I spotted headlights
drifting in, From The Far Side of the lot and my grip on the
steering wheel tightened again. A white Jeep Compass, glided
across the asphalt and parked right next to us.
There were at least a dozen other open spaces.
So why pick the one so close? I glanced to my left and there
he was the same driver, who'd been lingering In My Memory,
like a fleeting Shadow. I couldn't quite get rid of.
He was young but warned somehow his gaze heavy and unflinching.
A cold energy rolled off him making my nerves Flair.
Part of me wanted to brush it off assumed.
I was just stuck in my own fears but the longer we locked eyes.
The more certain I became that this wasn't random.
My friend must have sensed it too.
She snapped awake following my stare, I heard her mother,
something like not again. And that was all the push I
needed, I cranked the ignition yanked, the gear shift into
drive and tore out of there, the wheels squealed echoing across
the mostly empty lot. I almost expected the Jeep to
remain behind some bizarre coincidence.
Put to rest. instead, the headlights came to life and
stuck to our bumper, I felt a jolt of adrenaline rushed
through my limbs as I realized we were being followed yet
again. The highway ramp was up ahead
and I gunned it. Hoping, I could leave him behind
in the open stretches of Road. but once I merged those lights
were still, their unwavering, Mile after mile, I tried to
ignore the tightness in my chest.
The nagging thought that I'd let this go too far yet.
I couldn't slow down, not with that jeep.
Trailing me, like, it was locked on ahead.
The mountains, Rose against the sky dark Silhouettes, capped by
faint moonlight. We thundered onto an exit,
hoping to lose him in the twists and turns of back roads.
My friend pulled out her phone trying to chart a route that
might confuse any pursuer, we zigzagged through narrow
highways, winding through steep, valleys and lonely clusters of
trees, the path weaving in a dizzying snake-like pattern.
Each time, I dared glance back, those headlights burned in the
darkness unshaken, by The Hairpin curves, exhaustion,
nodded me, and I wondered how long we could keep this up
without making a critical mistake.
The roads were almost deserted lined with battered guardrails
and the endless silhouettes of sloping ridges.
Everything in me wanted to stop to catch a moment's calm but my
instincts hollered that would be a terrible idea with this creep.
Hanging on our tail. Then in a flash of Brilliance or
desperation, I'm still not sure which I yanked the wheel onto a
Hidden Side route. The Jeep.
Sped passed our turn its tail lights, flaring, read as it
tried to break too late. A wave of relief washed over me.
When I realized we might have slipped his grasp.
I continued down this narrow road until we reached an aging
wooden sign pointing to a smaller town.
Street lights became more frequent.
The black outline of the mountains gave way to a dimly
lit Main Street. And for the first time in hours
I let myself breathe. A fast food place.
Maybe the only one opened that early glowed at the edge of the
road. We pulled in found a spot
between work trucks and local cars.
The safety of other humans moving around was enough to let
the tension in my muscles ease a bit.
My friend and I were so drained. We just collapsed against the
seats Windows still rolled up tight.
After so many panicked miles, the distant hum of a drive
through speaker in the smell of stale.
French fries, felt like a blessing when the Sun finally
started creeping over the Ragged skyline of mountains.
I stirred My neck ached from sleeping at a weird angle.
Outside life was picking up, people stepping in and out an
elderly couple walking their dog along the sidewalk.
No white Jeep in sight. You'd think I would have been
relieved but an odd sense of dread tugged.
At me, had we really lost him, or was he just biting?
His time, I checked my phone half expecting messages from
family asking where I was but it stayed eerily silent.
The air felt thick with unresolved tension.
My friend and I ordered some breakfast greasy, but hot just
to ground ourselves in something normal.
Every so often we glanced out the windows scanning each
vehicle that pulled through nothing suspicious yet, neither
of us could fully shake the lingering paranoia, it felt like
we'd gone through some Twisted rite of passage in those
mountains. By the time we climb back into
the car, the morning, sunlight was streaming in almost too
bright against the tiredness in our faces.
A part of me wished, we could head straight home without
another break. But I knew I had to keep an eye
out for that jeep as though, it might materialize.
Again, the realization was chilling.
A simple trip to help a friend had morphed into this frantic
late night, Chase. Sure.
Maybe we were both wound too tight.
Maybe the stranger was just some random jerk on a power trip.
But I couldn't shake a deeper suspicion that he was dangerous
and that under the vast guy of Appalachia Anything Could
Happen. We buckled up and drove off
leaving that small town in the rearview mirror.
Each mile of Highway felt both relieving and nerve-racking as
if something could pop out any second.
By the time, we found a route that led back toward Detroit,
the mountains were starting to fade behind us.
I couldn't help thinking about how despite my deep respect for
those old ridges. I was leaving with a new Grim,
awareness of the Shadows. They can hide.
I took a final look at the looming.
Outlines in the mirror, imagining that white Jeep hidden
somewhere in The Valleys lying in.
Wait. even if I never found out who was behind the wheel, That
night changed me. I used to think of these roads
like a second home, a place of comfort and belonging.
Now a knot of tension insisted that, some things are better,
left alone and that wandering too far into unknown territory
can lead to Horrors. You can't always outrun Last
year, I had a deeply unsettling experience in a national forest
in California. I was alone on a road trip with
my dog Yuca, and I decided to drive far into Mendocino
National Forest. I often choose national parks
and forests for camping because they're free and isolated which
lets my dog roam freely. The trade-off is sometimes
navigating. Sketchy roads with zero cell
service or assistance, It was around 5 p.m. when I started up
a narrow dirt road that snaked around the side of a mountain.
The air was oddly still despite a mild Breeze.
The late afternoon sun, cast Long Shadows, across the road,
and everything felt eerily silent except for my tires
crunching gravel. I've driven on Plenty of remote
roads, but something about this place, hit me, immediately a
cold uneasy feeling that settled in my stomach.
Every instinct told me. I shouldn't be there.
I texted my boyfriend about my discomfort for as long as I had
service, maybe a few minutes until my phone went dead.
I kept an eye out for any signs that someone else was around or
had been there recently. Tire marks Footprints, or even
trash? Yet, the road was empty.
No Fresh Tracks, no sign of life.
Eventually, I pulled over to stretch my legs and let Yuka
out. She bounded ahead a little but
then stopped abruptly her hackles raised.
That's when I noticed a dead squirrel on the roadside its
body was fresh enough that flies hadn't swarmed it yet, which
struck me as odd. A few feet away shards of broken
glass glinted in the dirt like tiny mirrors.
The moment Yuka caught the scent, she let out this low
rumbling growl. She's vocal, but it's rare for
her to grow at something that isn't another dog or a direct
threat like the times. She saw a possum, this was
different and unnatural. Hush seemed to hang over the
forest. I swear the breeze died down the
second I stepped out of the car leaving the trees and bushes
perfectly still. It felt like the entire place
was watching me. Despite the anxiety twisting in
my chest. I pride myself on being an
independent traveler. So I decided to venture a bit
farther to find a suitable campsite The deeper, I drove the
worse. I felt my stomach churned at the
sight of more dead animals, along the road, squirrels small
birds, Even what looked like a rabbit.
Struck me as incredibly strange. At most people would drive 510
miles per hour on this road if anyone even came through at all.
So, roadkill should be minimal. It was almost as if something
else had been killing them and leaving them out in the open.
That's when I first heard what sounded like men's voices.
Drifting through the trees. It was faint but clear enough to
raise the hairs on my arms. My immediate thought was to call
out, maybe confirmed. There were indeed other people
around, but when I slowed to a stop, I had this overwhelming
sense that I needed to keep quiet my pulse thundered, in my
ears, I realized I was actually afraid to make my presence known
I couldn't understand what they were saying, if they were even
speaking English. But every syllable, I caught
sounded wrong garbled like a bad radio signal.
You can started whining from the backseat ears, pinned, flat.
That alone was enough to scare me.
She's a rescue. I brought home from Costa Rica.
And she's been through all kinds of rough situations, but I never
seen her so visibly, rattled. I tried to spot any movement
between the Towering Pines or behind the thick underbrush, but
it was as if the voices were coming from nowhere and
everywhere at once. Then just as suddenly as they
started, they stopped the silence that followed was even
more. Unsettling like, the forest was
holding its breath. I decided I'd had enough though.
Part of me felt like I was overreacting.
My instincts told me to leave As I began turning the car around
on the narrow road, the voice is reappeared for a moment louder,
this time, echoing in the quiet, a chill shot through me.
And I swear Yuka, let out a Yelp, I stepped on the gas more
abruptly than I should have on such a precarious road but I was
desperate to get away my heart. Pounded so hard.
I felt light-headed. On the way back down, I kept
checking my rear view mirror, half expecting to see someone or
something burst out of the woods behind me, but the road remained
empty, winding back to the main stretch of highway.
When I finally reached a safer area, I let out a breath.
I hadn't realized I was holding and noticed my hands, trembling
on the steering wheel. I decided a hotel was worth
every penny that night. As I checked in my reflection in
the Lobby's glass, doors showed me, how pale and shaky.
I looked It took me hours to calm down and stop hearing those
strange voices in my head at the time I tried to rationalize it.
Huge Open Spaces are intimidating.
Weird, Echoes can travel far in a canyon or Valley animals, die,
and broken, glass could be from careless, visitors.
But something about that place and those voices.
Stuck with me. Whenever I watch a scary movie
or walk my dog alone at night, nothing compares to the raw
Terror. I felt in that Forest.
Months later, I stumbled upon some Native American Lord that
immediately dredged up memories of that creepy Road.
A year after the incident, I was telling my boyfriend about it
again, while we were on another road trip this time heading home
after a wedding in Wyoming. We'd been listening to scary
podcasts and YouTube videos to pass the time in the dark.
One of the videos mentioned, wendigo's creatures said to lurk
and remote, forested areas and mimic human voices.
I practically froze, feeling a horrible wave of dread wash over
me my boyfriend. Suddenly remembered that he had
joked about when to goes when I first told him about hearing
voices in the forest. Back then, I Shrugged it off as
a big foot like joke. Hearing the Lord described more.
Seriously, especially the part about them being able to mimic
voices, made my skin crawl. It fit too well, with what I
experienced the disembodied voices, the uneasy atmosphere.
The dead animals. I started Googling wendigo's in
Mendocino and came across alarming stories of unexplained
disappearances. One headline read another
family, goes, missing in Mendocino.
Digging deeper, I found out that over 100 people in the past
eight years, had vanished Without a Trace, and others were
found dead under mysterious circumstances that terrifying
Drive flashed through my mind all over again.
I remembered the way yuka's growls had made the hair on the
back of my neck stand up. she's never been soaked before, or
since For a dog who once lived on the streets of Costa Rica,
seeing her react, with that level of fear.
Convinced me, there was something terribly wrong in
those woods. Even though it's just a legend
these stories come from somewhere, I've traveled solo
through, jungles deserts mountains, you name it and I've
never felt such an immediate sense of Doom.
Something in Mendocino national forest was off and I can't shake
the thought that if I had stayed another hour or Venture deeper,
I might not be telling this story today.
I don't plan on traveling, anywhere near that remote
without a companion. Preferably a group.
The memory of those voices, the lifeless bodies of animals and
my dogs reactions still haunts me.
I can't help. But wonder what's really out
there and whether it's watching the next unsuspecting traveler
who dares to wander too far from civilization, If anyone knows
about authentic, Native American lore, or if you've had a
similarly inexplicable experience, especially in
Mendocino National Forest, I'd love to hear it.
Because to this day, I'm convinced there was something in
those woods and it wasn't anything I've ever encountered
in my life. I was up before my alarm tossing
on my gear and stepping outside into the kind of Blackness, that
feels almost. Solids, always ask me how I
handle the early starts. Truth is, I've always liked that
quiet window Before Dawn. It usually settles me.
But on this day, it felt more oppressive than soothing like
the very air. Carried a warning, the drive out
was familiar. A narrow road twisting through
bare branches. That seemed to crowd in from
every side. The headlights only cut through
a small patch of Darkness, making everything else blur into
a single Inky Mass. When I finally parked a weird
anticipation bubbled up inside me, Usually, I'm eager to slip
into the woods but that morning felled different.
The silence was a little too heavy, the darkness, too thick.
I grabbed my bow and started the short hike toward my usual spot.
Leaves snapped under each step and I noticed that nothing else.
Made noise. No nightbirds, calling no
rustling in the nearby brush. I tried telling myself, it was
just one of those days, the forest decides to go still, but
doubt was already creeping around in my head.
My flash light beam cut across tree trunks, but they looked
more like looming figures than simple Timber every so often I'd
stop and hold my breath trying to pick up on some sign of life.
Nothing eventually I found the tree stand, I'd set up last
season, it's in a decent spot where deer sometimes wander at
dawn Climbing up there felt like a routine.
I'd done a thousand times but I couldn't settle in.
Darkness pressed in from all angles, the bow sat across my
lap, and I attempted to keep my senses attuned to the slightest
disturbance. Still nothing.
Time dragged. And with each passing minute
that quiet weighed on me more. normally I'll hear some snapping
Twigs in the distance, or the faint call of an owl but the
quiet was close to suffocating I tried to focus on the
possibility of seeing a deer come into view, but all I could
think about was how unnaturally calm everything seemed After
hours of waiting without spotting so much as a scampering
rabbit I decided to call it quits.
The Shadows were still thick, but Dawn could not be too far
off. I climbed down my boots
crunching on damp, leave. Honestly I expected the usual
wave of relief that comes from calling it a day, like, okay,
maybe, no dear this time but there's always next hunt
instead. I felt an edge in the pit of my
stomach. Turning toward my car.
I took the path that usually wins me back through the woods.
A few minutes into the walk. I started noticing that each
step felt Amplified. At first, I blamed the leaves,
maybe the ground was just wetter than usual.
But the repetition became impossible to ignore.
It seemed like there was a subtle delay, just enough to
make my hair stand on end. I take a step Crunch and half a
second later. I'd catch a Fanta crunch echoing
mine. After a few beats of that any
lingering calm, I had vanished. I stopped dead.
My ears were straining to catch the slightest sound Everything
went silent again as if the woods were mocking.
Me only making noise when I moved.
I let out a slow. Exhale, forcing myself, to stand
still until I was certain there was nothing behind me.
Nothing stirred. The only thing I could hear was
the thump of blood in my ears. I set off again, slower this
time and sure enough that second set of footfalls resumed.
Even though it kept perfect time with me, there was no question,
it wasn't my own. It was a heartbeat behind and
unnatural Echo that made my skin prickle.
By then my grip on the bow was iron tight.
I've spent plenty of nights out here and I know how to trust my
instincts. Something someone was shadowing
me. I decided to confront it.
If I was imagining things, I'd laugh about it later.
If I wasn't, I needed to be ready.
I stopped short world around and lifted my bow.
My voice came out louder and harsher than I expected.
Whoever's out there, I'm not messing around.
My shout faded into the dark swallowed by the trees.
That looked like looming, centuries.
Silence again. No movement, no answer.
But the tension in the atmosphere felt real like the
woods themselves were bracing for what came next?
I kept my bow raised scanning the path and the Twisted
Silhouettes around me. My pulse was racing but I tried
to keep my breathing steady nothing approached yet.
I was convinced I wasn't alone. That's the moment, the first
real flicker of alarm pushed through my composure alone in
the darkness. Far From Any House or main road
with the distinct feeling I'd stumbled into some silent game.
I never meant to play and I couldn't tell if I was dealing
with a person an animal or something else entirely I
tightened my stance calling out once more half hoping I'd get no
reply half hoping I would just to end the mystery, the second's
dragged, the forest around me, offered no comfort.
Each tree. Trunks seeming to lean in as if
waiting for a final verdict. My heart hammered as I braced
for whatever was about to happen next.
I kept my bow raised hardly daring to breathe.
Eyes locked on the dark, stretch of trees.
My mind was racing with every worst-case possibility.
A rogue animal, a trespasser, someone with bad intentions.
The forest around me felt so still.
It was almost oppressive like every twig and leaf was part of
a silent audience watching me. Suddenly a voice shattered the
hush. Please don't shoot.
I twisted trying to pinpoint exactly where it came from.
At first, I saw nothing. Just the shifting shape of
branches against the faint light of dawn then a single figure
stepped out. One hand raised, like he was
trying to prove he had nothing to hide.
He was a man, but that was about all I could tell.
Scruffy facial hair? Worn clothes.
Cake with dirt. His posture suggested, he was
either terrified or very good at pretending to be.
I'm lost. He managed voice.
Trembling been wandering for hours.
I didn't lower my bow right away.
There was something off about him.
In the way, he couldn't seem to hold eye contact.
I remembered how long he'd been tailing me, quiet as a shadow.
A part of me wondered if he was truly lost or if that was just a
story to put me off guard, step out where I can see you.
I told him. He took another slow step
forward keeping his palms visible.
The forest was still pretty dark, but I could at least make
out the anxious line of his mouth.
He repeated. I was following you because I
thought you might know how to get out of here.
His words, came out, rushed like he needed to convince me, a wave
of conflicting, impulses flooded, my thoughts, everything
in me, screamed to be careful to keep him in front of me and
never let him out of sight. But I also could not just leave
someone behind if they were genuinely stranded.
All right. I said quietly.
I'll help you find the road but you walk ahead and don't make
any sudden moves. He nodded fast shoulders sagging
with what appeared to be released, though.
I couldn't be sure. I gestured with my bow for him
to turn around the path behind us looked endless swallowed by
Blackness. So I guided him toward what I
hoped was the right direction. As we pressed forward, the only
sounds came from our footsteps on Dead Leaves, and the
occasional scrape of a stray Branch against my jacket.
The tension practically thrummed in the air.
I tried to chat just enough to gauge how truthful he might be.
How long you been out here? He hesitated, not sure a while.
I tried another angle came with friends.
His answer was muddled something about a group hike going wrong.
He fumbled the details. Claiming he got separated the
whole thing, left me with more questions than answers.
We walked on a faint. Gloss started to touch the sky,
revealing, the Twisted outlines of trees around us.
In that thin light, I noticed the man's clothes were torn in
places and his hands looked grimy.
Like, he'd been on the ground more than once but his face.
Troubled. Me the most, he kept glancing
back with the corner of his eye. Assessing me, as if he was
sizing up a situation each time, he slowed down, I'd tents ready
to react. Was he pausing to catch his
breath? Or was he testing me waiting for
me to drop my guard? My hand never left the bow.
Thumb resting near the arrow. Eventually, we reached a slight
clearing. The path here was a bit more
defined and the first scraps of daylight helped me get a clearer
look at him. His gaze was wild, not just from
exhaustion, but from something else, nervous energy, or maybe
fear that I was onto him. You have a flashlight or phone.
I asked trying to see if he was lying about being completely
lost. He just shook his head eyes
darting like he was embarrassed or stalling.
I dropped it battery died, he mumbled never finishing a
complete sentence. We trudged along side by side at
times but he'd always Veer a little ahead whenever I nudged
him forward with my words or a small motion of my bow.
The truth is I was counting every step until we reached the
parking lot. As uneasy as I felt, I also
didn't want to be stuck out here if he decided to pull something.
After a while the trees began to thin and that was the first
sign. We were close to the edge of the
forest. My car was parked in a clearing
up, a short slope relief flickered inside me, but it came
Tangled with a fresh jolt of nerves.
If he was planting something, he might try it in these last few
minutes. Not far.
Now I said mostly to fill the silence.
That felt razor sharp. The trail opened up revealing my
car in the distance, the man slowed noticeably almost like he
was disappointed. For a split second, his eyes
flicked to the surrounding area. Scoping.
If anyone else was around, perhaps then he exhaled sharply
turning to me with a forced grin, that didn't touch his
eyes. This is it, then he muttered.
I nodded stepping a bit to the side so I could keep him in my
peripheral vision. The Morning, Light was Stronger.
Now, Illuminating smears of dirt on his cheeks.
He seemed torn between relief and something darker, a Restless
energy that made my gut twist. I offered there's a road not far
from here. I can drive you or show you how
to follow it. He shot a glance at the car.
Then at me, I'll find my own way.
He said. The edge in his voice was
sharper than before. I was about to press him
further, but he turned and took off into the thinning tree line
at an odd Shuffle. Never once looking back at me
until he was a good distance away.
He paused briefly far enough that I could just make out his
expression. The look he gave me was too
quick to read fully. But a chill Rose in my mind.
It was the type of look that suggested this encounter hadn't
gone as he planned. Or maybe he was simply relieved
to escape my scrutiny. Then he disappeared behind a
stand of gnarled trunks leaving me there.
Bo still in hand. I stood in that clearing for a
few beats wrestling with a storm of emotions.
Relief. Ward with a nagging sense of
danger. The feeling that if I'd made
even one wrong move, things might have turned out badly.
In the end, I lowered my bow and forced my legs to move toward my
car. Once inside, I locked the doors
and just sat behind the wheel. Listening to my breath hiss in
and out. Even though the Dawn was
brightening, that unsettling memory of footsteps trailing
mine stuck in my head. I realized that no matter how
well I knew these Woods, there would always be a chance of
running into someone who didn't belong and sometimes that's
scary than any natural predator. I could have faced out there.
Starting the car. I cast one last glance at the
line of trees. It all looks so peaceful from
here. Like any normal morning in the
forest. Yet, I couldn't shake the
tension in my chest, that intuition telling me this wasn't
just some harmless lost hiker. Maybe he truly needed help or
maybe I just walked away from a much darker situation.
Either way, I drove off with my mind in overdrive, swearing I'd
stay more Vigilant from now on. Out here you can never be too.
Sure what, or who might be lurking among the Shadows
waiting for the right moment to follow.
I could have sworn this would be a regular day.
My buddies and I have roamed these Woods since we were kids.
So piling into the car before Dawn and heading for that old
trail felt the same as always easy and comfortable.
As we stepped onto the dirt path, the morning air smelled
like Pine and damp Earth. The kind of scent that usually
calms me write down We packed everything.
We'd need water snacks, a whistle and that one gun.
We never really thought we'd have to use.
Our chatter bounced around all jokes and half-hearted
complaints about waking up early back then.
I had no clue how abruptly that cheerful mood would unravel.
After a couple of miles, we spotted a narrow offshoot from
the main trail, one that most visitors ignore.
We never do. This is our spot, our own hidden
detour where the map doesn't matter.
Because we know every inch that's when I noticed a sort of
hush around us I couldn't place it right away, but something was
off. Usually, we'd hear birds or the
rustling of small Critters. Today, it was just our
footsteps. I tried to brush it off,
cracking a dumb joke about how the birds must be on vacation or
something. The guys chuckled but I could
tell they felt it too. That strange emptiness, you
don't usually get here. Despite the Eerie quiet we
pushed deeper into that off-trail.
Stretch leaves, rustled overhead shifting in the breeze.
A branch snaps somewhere off to the side and I Whirled around
half expecting a deer, but there was nothing there.
My friend Manny let out a dry laugh and said I was jumping at
Shadows. I tried to Shake it.
Off. Pride told me, I shouldn't let
every small sound startled. Me my other friends seemed on
edge too, but none of us wanted to admit.
It we'd grown up in these Woods. This place was supposed to feel
like a second home. Eventually, I noticed someone up
ahead leaned against a trunk in this awkward tilt From far off,
he looked hurt or exhausted his shoulders, slumped forward and
no gear. In sight, we slowed down
scanning for signs of anyone else, but it was just him.
My stomach nodded up, we hollered a greeting.
Hey man, everything. Okay.
But got no reply just silence. My pulse kicked up though, I
told myself, maybe he was injured or hard of hearing.
This is usually the part where you jog over to help but
Instinct held me back. Something in his body language,
screamed, that we should stay cautious.
We inched closer trying to see his face.
He still didn't move didn't glance our way.
One of my friends waived hoping to draw him out of whatever days
he might be in but it was like he was locked in place.
That hush pressed in around us even harder and it felt like the
whole forest was waiting to see what we do next.
At about 50 feet Manny stepped forward then froze.
He called out just loud enough for us to hear.
He's got a blade. We all tense straining to see
the faint shine of something metal.
Griped, in the stranger's hand, my throat went dry.
I wasn't sure if I should call out to him again or back off
entirely. Our friend who carried the gun
cautiously raised. It muzzle angled down but ready?
He spoke in a steady voice we don't want trouble.
Just checking if you're all right.
The tension in the air felt thicker than any fog for a
heartbeat, the man States still, then with a slow deliberation.
He pushed himself upright, my eyes locked onto the massive
knife, machete, really. He had classed in his fingers.
when he turned our way, I managed to glance at his face he
looked Detached like he wasn't present in the moment.
I felt a Twist of fear run through me because someone like
that, someone who doesn't react at all to having a weapon
pointed near him, might not be safe to reason with.
My friend repeated, his warning told him to stay back to put the
blade down. No response.
The man just stood there. So still, that even the
slightest movement felt loaded with Menace.
I took a step back and my backpack shifted on my
shoulders. The weight reminding me that we
were not exactly powerless. But it didn't help me feel any
less vulnerable. I told myself to stay calm that
maybe this stranger was just confused or scared.
Then in a gesture, that was both simple and terrifying.
He moved one foot forward, not fast, just deliberate.
He stopped then. Another step stopped again.
Each pause lasted a heartbeat, but it punched me with anxiety.
It was like, he had his own dark rhythm in mind.
My friend with the gun kept saying, don't come any closer,
but the guy didn't even blink. We were locked in the standoff
that I never expected to face in a place.
I had always considered my backyard.
That's where the day took a turn from familiar to something
alien. Our cozy routine was gone
replaced by a single horrifying. Thought how quickly can we get
away from this guy? My pulse hammered so loud, I
thought for sure the stranger could hear it.
One moment we were calling out warnings trying to keep it calm.
And the next he was stepping toward us in this bizarre
measured way one step stopped. Another step stopped like each
footfall was time to Rattle her nerves.
I clutched, the straps of my backpack, forcing myself not to
outright Sprint, part of me wanted to grab my friends and
drag them away, but it felt like any sudden move might provoke
him. My buddy holding the gun kept
his voice firm demanding the guy.
Drop his weapon back off anything to keep him at Bay, yet
that machete gleamed in his hand and he showed zero sign of fear.
My friends and I began to retreat inch by inch trying to
maintain a gap between us and the silent figure.
The air felt thick. Like the forest itself was
caught in a dreadful hush. Even the usual crackle of leaves
under our boots, seemed muffled. I caught a glimpse of Manny's
face. He looked just as freaked out,
as I felled eyes darting around to see if maybe someone else was
watching from behind a tree. It was a paranoid thought, but
none of us, were sure of the stranger was alone.
That's slow stuttering approach. Never sped up.
It was unnerving like he was toying with us savoring.
Every shaky breath. We took My friend with the guns
said we're leaving now. speaking with forced calm, while shifting
backwards, The Stranger just kept creeping forward step by
deliberate step. You'd think the sight of a
firearm would have triggered, some reaction fear alarm
something, but it was like, he barely even registered the
threat, his Focus stayed locked on us or maybe somewhere else
entirely I couldn't tell. The second we built a bit of
space between us. Manny blurted go.
We got a go in a hushed yell and that was it.
We bolted my legs started pumping adrenaline taking over
the branches clawing at my clothes.
Every few strides, I glanced back half convinced he'd broken
into a run. Instead, I saw him standing
there machete still at his side, just staring.
In a Twisted way, that was almost worse.
Like, he was letting us escape on his own terms.
The forest rushed passed in a blur my lungs burned, as I
zigzagged through the undergrowth, ignoring the
scrapes and scratches from brambles, hooking into my pant
legs. We put distance between
ourselves and that clearing, but the paranoia refused to ease up
every snap of a twig behind me. Sent a jolt of panic through my
gut. My brain looped with thoughts.
What if he's following? What if he has friends?
Eventually we slowed breath rasping in our chests and found
a more familiar part of the woods, a spot.
We recognized with a few scattered Boulders in a
trickling stream. Nobody said a word for a solid
minute, as we tried to settle ourselves, I still flicking over
our shoulders. I dialed for help on my phone
voice, shaking as I gave the gist of what happened.
Some unresponsive man with a huge blade lurking in the middle
of nowhere. Stepping toward us, like it was
a game even just saying the words, made my stomach churn all
over. Again, once we ended the call,
we trudged on weaving our way to the main trail.
Instead of relief, all I felt was a low-grade dread that clung
to me. we were safe relatively, but the chill of his expression
blank and distant lingered in my memory That stare hinted at
something deeply wrong, like he was operating on a different
level of logic or had no logic at all.
When we finally reach the car, we huddled around it in uneasy
silence. A friend muttered something
about driving to the ranger station to make sure the
authorities knew exactly where to look.
Another friend said, he wasn't sure, he ever wanted to come
back here, not after seeing that, I just noted replaying,
the slow methodical steps in my head.
I never thought a complete stranger could turn such a
familiar Place into a nightmare. Even now I can't shake how he
stood there. Not flinching at the sight of
the gun, not giving us a single word, just watching us scramble
to get away. A part of me wonders.
If he was waiting for us to slip up or if he planned on following
us at some point. I keep picturing his face void
of emotion yet somehow intense. Like all that mattered to him,
was that machete and whoever crossed his path.
And I keep asking myself, what would have happened?
If we'd hesitated even a second longer, We escaped, but the
forest feels like it's changed forever.
Tainted by the memory of that silent threat lurking between
the trees. I always thought of the Arctic
nights as my personal Escape. Imagine blankets of white
stretching to every Horizon. The sky so clear, you could
count the constellations if your eyes didn't blur from the cold.
This was my hometown. A place of Frozen expanses in
Midnight, Wonder. Staying cooped up indoors.
Never appealed to me especially when I knew the stars were out
there waiting. My parents both teachers were,
usually too busy to notice I'd swiped.
The snowmobile keys. Most nights, I'd slip out
quietly the thrill of being somewhere.
I shouldn't be fueling each step.
On that particular evening, it felt like the sky was calling my
name. I tiptoed across the living
room, making sure not to step on the squeaky floorboard near the
couch. My dad's papers still unmarked
fan out on the coffee table. My mom's boots caked in days old
slush, rested by the door. They were worn out from a long
day. Perfect timing, for me to sneak
away. The moment, I stepped out side,
the chill cut into my lungs, like glass.
Cold nights were normal here, but there was something sharper
about the air. I chalked it up to excitement
and tugged my hood, tighter pulling the cord on the
snowmobile. I heard the engine sputter awake
in a burst of noise. I winced worried the sound might
Echo right into my parents' room, but no lights flipped on
good. Nobody was stopping me.
I guided the snowmobile out beyond the town's edges, riding
until the street lights faded to pinpricks.
In the distance, the motors Rumble was almost calming and
the snow kicked up in a glittery spray behind me.
Before long, I found a gentle slope a familiar spot with a
clear view of the sky and Switched Off The Machine.
In the sudden silence my own breathing, sounded too loud.
Usually, I found that hush comforting.
That night at stirred, a subtle dread, I couldn't explain.
I scan the heavens above expecting the usual, a lazy
satellite drifting across the Stars, maybe some faint,
Aurora's shimmering in green, and purple bands.
It all looked normal at a glance.
Yet, an itch under my skin told me something was different.
The Stillness pressed down as if the entire Tundra was smothered
in anticipation. I told myself I was overthinking
it after all. I had been here a hundred times
before soaking in the cosmic Beauty just as I started to
relax. A faint.
Tapping reached my ears, so soft.
I almost missed it. It reminded me of somebody
clinking glass beads together distant, but too steady for a
random Breeze. Immediately, I glanced around
expecting to see a fox skittering across the snow or a
loose piece of gear taping in the wind.
Nothing. Not a single thing.
Moved on the horizon. my gaze drifted upward and my pulse
hammered for no clear reason everything appeared normal The
stars were their usual, brilliant selves, the Aurora
seemed call. Still the tapping sound lingard
picking up in intensity until it resonated.
In my eardrums panics, slid into my bloodstream, was it something
mechanical some bizarre Echo. I forced myself to focus
scanning every inch of the sky. That's when I noticed three,
distinct lights brighter than stars and aligned far too
perfectly to be random each point, grew an intensity.
Not in size, as if they were pushing through the Aurora's
colors, the tapping swelled into a sharper clack, like pieces of
metal colliding, just Out Of Reach.
My mouth, went dry. I wanted to jump back on the
snowmobile, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from these lights.
It felt like they were locking onto me.
Making my bones itch from the inside.
Then in a breath, they vanished. No flicker know, slow fade
simply gone. The noise disappeared, right?
Alongside them leaving behind a heavy ringing emptiness.
For a moment. I remained Frozen.
Unable to decide if I should stay and see if it happened
again or flee. My survival Instinct.
Finally. Screamed louder.
My limbs jolted into action, and I flung myself onto the
snowmobile fumbling with the starter. the machine chugged
with without catching as if it was refusing to help me escape
Fear made my hand shake and I yanked the court again and again
on the fourth try the engine roared to life the sudden sound
jolting me. I pressed the throttle and
didn't look back. My heart hammered with every
bump in the snow. Convinced something out there
was watching me leave Only once the familiar glow of the Town
appeared. Did I start to breathe easier
yet? The unease refused to lift my
senses were on high alert. Every shadow seemed to quiver,
every gust of wind felt charged with something unknown
replaying. What I saw, I struggled to make
sense of it. Three perfect lights that
unnatural clicking Echo. It couldn't have been just a
trick of the Aurora whatever it was.
It left a silent echo in my thoughts.
A certainty that I had glimpsed something far beyond any normal
night sky show. By the time I reached home my
shoulders ached from gripping the handlebars too hard without
hesitation. I killed the engine and pushed
the snowmobile into its usual spot.
My heart thudded while I slipped through the door half expecting
my parents to confront me with angry questions.
But the house was silent darker than it should have been.
I felt an odd Pang in my gut, but I shoved it aside and headed
for my room. I didn't dare turn on a single
night clinging to the hope of avoiding punishment for this
midnight. Joy ride.
Little did I realize the strangest part of the night was
yet to come. As I collapsed into my bed, the
memory of those three lights burned itself into my mind.
For the first time I wasn't just intrigued by the Arctic night.
I was downright afraid of it. When I finally stumbled into the
house, a strange hush greeted me.
Normally the hallway light was on and the TV murmured from the
living room, my parents awake and marking papers, or half
watching some late night show. This time the place was Pitch,
Black, like everyone decided to call it quits at some eerily
early hour. I gently closed the door behind
me and stood there letting my breath even out.
My inside still royalty, from the world of cold and sheer
fear. I just escaped on the tundra.
My bedroom door practically moaned when I pushed it open,
but nobody stirred. The relief was briefed.
My alarm clocks red digits, caught my eye, a blaring
reminders of how messed up. Everything was, I'd left around
11 at night, feeling pretty sure.
I had only been gone, maybe an hour or two yet, somehow, it was
edging towards six in the morning that meant nearly seven
hours had evaporated. I froze, mind racing, even the
wildest Aurora show or a random Daydream couldn't account for
all that missing time. Dropping onto my bed, felt like
sinking into quicksand. My body was so stiff.
I realized I must have been standing out there.
Forever. Motionless, staring at those
lights. My joints ached and my eyes
throbbed as if I had been holding them open for hours.
Whenever I closed them, I saw a pulsating shapes flickers of
those three points, hovering in the sky.
A phantom ringing, teased my ears, bringing back that
bizarre, tapping sound. The memory unsettled me to my
core, like a half-formed nightmare refusing to let go.
I wanted to shake myself and say it was a hallucination.
Maybe I dozed off on the snowmobile.
But the physical evidence was impossible to ignore my numb
fingers, my throbbing legs. And the throaty rattled the
engine made on my way home, it had never struggled like that
before. The air outside the window
looked on changed a deep Arctic Gloom but that only cemented,
the feeling that time had no logical flow tonight.
After several minutes, though, it felt like hours.
I forced myself to sit up. My parents for once hadn't
rushed out to scold me which meant either they were
completely oblivious, or I was more stealthy than I deserved to
be. Normally, I'd feel triumphant
about sneaking in Scott free but not tonight.
The silence in the house. Nodded at me.
I kept imagining shape's lurking, Beyond each, doorway
waiting for me to explain what I had seen.
My heart. Pounded erratically.
Not from the excitement of a rebellious Joyride, but from a
fear, I couldn't even name. Giving up on the idea of sleep,
I flicked on my bedside lamp, its dim glow, chasing away.
Some of the Shadows, my snow gear lay in a wet pile, near the
closet. And I remembered how the front
door. Lock had been a little stiff or
maybe a bit scratched. Was that a coincidence or had
someone something messed with it?
My head buzzed with possibilities.
All of them worse than the last. I kept picturing a shape tall or
monstrous lurking outside Lord, by these lights.
Or maybe it was all in my head. Whichever it was.
I didn't plan on finding out the hard way.
I fumbled for my phone thinking about texting a friend for some
semblance of normalcy but what would I even say?
Hey, I got stuck staring at weird lights for seven hours.
Can't sleep because I'm half convinced I'm losing my mind.
You up. Yeah, right, I felt too jittery
to deal with the awkward questions that would follow.
So I just sat there letting my breath stutter into something
like a rhythm waiting for morning to break when Dawn
finally came it bled through the window and pale gray stripes.
Transforming the cramped bedroom into something I recognized but
only barely The thin sunlight exposed every random detail.
The peeling wallpaper Corner the scattered school, binders.
I should have found it comforting but my nerves stayed
sharp, even with daylight, a different sort of dread settled
in my gut. If I stepped outside, what I
sense, any lingering presence of those lights overhead.
Thoughts, tumbled around as I weighed telling my parents what
happened? They weren't the type to dismiss
me out of hand. But the idea of describing
those, pulsing orbs in the mechanical, tapping made me
uneasy. I worry.
They assumed, I was making up a story to cover for sneaking out.
Plus, there was this undercurrent of Shame, like I'd
stumbled into something far bigger than I could handle, and
that I should keep quiet or risk, unleashing it more
eventually the clock nudged past 8:00.
My body felt Hollow, like, I had sprinted a marathon overnight.
Somewhere in the house. My father started moving around
kitchen. Chairs.
Scraping the floor. The smell of coffee drifted.
Down the hall way normally a comforting sign not today.
I didn't want to walk in there, meet his eyes and pretend
everything was normal. I didn't want to see pity or
confusion if I tried to explain. In that moment, I promised
myself, I would never go out to the tundra alone at night again.
Memories of the swirling, Aurora and the star-filled.
Vista were now tainted by an unsettling Aura of fear.
Whatever hovered in the sky that night, whatever stole hours from
me, felt like it had burrowed into my thoughts.
No sense. Risking another round.
Eventually, I peeled myself off the bed and started getting
ready. Ignoring the reflection in my
mirror that revealed dark smudges under my eyes.
I figured I'd power through the day.
Maybe, blame insomnia, on some big assignment.
Deep down, I knew that if I admitted the truth to anyone,
I'd have to face it more directly.
And I wasn't ready for that. Truth be told I wondered if I
had ever be ready at all. Some things are better left
behind in the Arctic night, especially when they refused to
follow the rules of time and reason.
As I left my room, I had no doubt.
I'd Glimpse something unimaginable out there.
And if it wanted to be seen again, well I wasn't about to
volunteer for a second look. It was close to noon by the
time. Me and my two friends Eric and
Sam stumbled onto my dad's old place in woori yallock.
The sun was burning through a haze of clouds and the whole
driveway felt deserted like it hadn't seen a car or a person in
ages. Dad was there long enough to
toss me the spare key and drop a casual warning?
He might sneak up on our campsite later just to Spook us.
I figured it was his way of reliving a prankster youth.
We offloaded whatever gear we didn't need for the night, then
we were off the three of us. Trumped along an overgrown
trail, that snaked by the house, wild bushes, clawed at our legs.
And every so often one of us would curse under our breath,
when a sharp twig snagged, our clothes, The further, we went
the quieter at God, no hum of cars.
No chatter from Neighbors, just endless undergrowth.
And the crunch of our boots. Something about that, Stillness
had me on edge, but I told myself this was exactly what I
wanted Wilderness and a real break from everything.
After a couple of hours, we found a little clearing tucked
between scraggly trees and thick brush.
It looked perfect flat enough to pitch a tent room for a campfire
and plenty of dead branches for fuel.
We started Gathering wood. Making jokes about nasty,
spiders. In the weird ways.
We could prank each other once it got dark. that's when Eric
lifted up, what looked like a sun bleached stick and said
Dude, this is a bone. Turned out the area was littered
with them. Some were brittle cracking apart
at the slightest. Touch others were bigger and had
a wait to them. Sam tried to brush it off.
By saying, something about old cow bones from when the land was
farmland. We jumped on Wilder theories
just to mess with each other. Maybe it was an old Dumping
Ground for criminals, maybe it was some creepy ritual sight.
That's sort of talk. Got us all watching our backs,
eventually we build a decent fire.
The glow felt comforting in the early evening Gloom.
Eric tossed in one of the smaller bone sticks to see if it
burned any different. It made a weird Sizzle for a
second then fizzled out like regular kindling.
Didn't exactly smell great but we Shrugged It Off.
We cooked whatever snacks we'd brought told silly ghost stories
and started. Joking about how my dad might
show up wearing a mask. It gave me a bit of confidence
to think that at worst, I just have to endure dad's sense of
humor. I must have dozed off sometime
after midnight. The campfire was dying and a
faint Breeze. Rustled, the leaves above us.
Next thing, I knew Sam was shaking my shoulder mumbling.
Something about a flash light on the tent wall.
My mind reeled for a second. I'd almost forgotten the plan
for Dad to scare us. This was primed time for him to
jump out from behind a tree. But when I focused, I realized
the look and Sam's eyes was genuine fear.
Eric was sitting bolt upright breathing real slow, peering at
the tent fabric, as if any second, it might rip open light
flickered across the thin. Nylon like someone was moving
the torch and slow Suites. Then it vanished.
We heard a shuffle branches snapping in a pattern that
suggested more than one person was out there.
I whispered, probably my dad but for the first time all day that
idea didn't feel comforting something soft brushed against
the side of the tent. We all froze.
I forced a grin even though my stomach was a knot if it was Dad
he'd probably Jump Right In cackling at how scared we were.
But no cackling came instead. There was this low hushed.
Whisper, I couldn't quite parse. It Rose and fell like a weird
chant or several voices overlapping.
I shot Erica glance and he mouthed.
Who else would come all the way out here.
I had no answer that whispering went on for what felt like
forever. Every so often I'd catch the
faintest crunch of leaves, like someone pacing, my friends were
trembling and I can't pretend. I was calm either.
I was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how Dad
could have convinced any friends of his to join a prank.
This extreme hiking hours through dense Bush, just to
stand outside our tent and Whisper Then at once it all
stopped. The silence slammed down so hard
at rang in my ears. I waited for something else.
A footstep a cough anything, but heard only my own on steady
breathing. We sat up the rest of the night
half expecting that torch beam to slice through the dark again.
The tension got so thick. I couldn't tell.
If my mind was Conjuring, shape's outside the tent or if
someone was actually still there.
When Dawn finally broke, we basically tore down the tent and
record time, nobody bothered with breakfast.
We just wanted out, we power walked all the way back,
ignoring the aches in our legs and the stinging scratches
across our arms. By the time we dragged ourselves
into the yard of my dad's house. We were drenched and sweat and
shaking. Dad was sitting on the porch,
sipping coffee. He looked up saw our expressions
and asked what was wrong. We told him everything from the
weird whispering to the tapping on the tent.
He got real serious and said, I never made it out last night, I
was with my girlfriend. He even apologized for not
following through on his plan. He'd fallen asleep early, his
reaction was so genuine. I almost wished he'd been lying.
It would have felt better if there was a simple explanation,
a punchline. But there wasn't as he stared at
us frowning like he couldn't decide whether to blame some
random trespassers or are overactive imaginations.
I realized we might never know who had been out there or why.
all I knew was that something or someone had circled, our tent in
the dark and whispered in hushed voices, as we cowered inside,
And no matter how many times I try to laugh it off the memory
of that night still leaves. Me uneasy whenever I think about
setting up camp in the middle of nowhere again.
A few years had slipped by since that horrifying night in the
clearing, but no matter how many times I Shrugged it off in
conversation or joked about it after a few drinks, the memory
always lingered in the back of my thoughts.
I'd see a picture of someone camping and remember the faint
tapping on our tent and that unsettling whispering.
Part of me knew, I had to go back to that spot.
Somewhere between fear and curiosity.
I wanted to prove to myself, it had all been a fluke or teenage
imagination and to be honest, I needed closure.
That's how I found myself rolling into Warrior, again with
my friend Mark in toe. He'd heard the story and was
convinced, I was either exaggerating or missing some
logical explanation. He came along almost like a
skeptic investigator determined to reveal the truth about what
happened. Dad wasn't around this time.
He taken a job, a few hours away.
So we had the run of the old house.
It felt emptier than ever dusting in the sunlight that
slip through the grimy windows. The silence stirred up memories
from the last trip making me more anxious than I cared to
admit. Mark, and I set out on foot.
The next morning, the brush had grown Wilder, like, nature
decided to reclaim the area with a vengeance.
Vines snaked across the path and every so often the ground dipped
unexpectedly sending one of us, stumbling the leaves overhead
clustered. So thickly they blocked out most
of the sky. No birds, no other hikers.
Just us pushing deeper. The only sound being branches
snapping under our boots. It reminded me of how isolated
we were and I could tell Mark was beginning to catch some of
my unease. If eventually, we reached that
same clearing my heart thudded, a little faster.
I remembered where the tent had been the circle of black ash
from our old fire pits, still faintly visible in the dirt.
The place seemed oddly silent. Like it was holding its breath.
Mark, poked around snapping photos on his phone.
Asking me to point out exactly where we found the bone, but
there were no bones this time. Just a few random sticks that
didn't look too special. I started thinking maybe this
trip would be a bust that I'd overhyped everything, that's
when Mark wandered behind a Thicket and hissed.
My name hidden by a weave of dead.
Branches, stood a rusted corrugated iron Shack.
Bullet holes pockmarked the metal leaving Jagged edges that
hinted at some violent, past a tall oil drum leaned against one
wall blackened on the inside and stacked with burned clothes.
Shirts, maybe jackets, whatever. They'd been they were reduced to
scorched rags. A pair of axes lay nearby, their
handles split and dirty, but definitely used before.
My pulse spiked. The memory of those Whispers
played over in my head. For years, I told myself those
voices might have been some harmless bushwalkers or a
weirdo. Staring at this Shack.
I felt that old dread seeping back in.
Mark took a shaky breath. This is messed up.
He muttered. I tried to sound braver than I
felt muttering. Something about an old hunting
cabin or maybe a place squatters used.
But a hunting cabin doesn't usually feature bullet riddled,
walls, an oil drum of burned, clothing, and a pair of axes
left lying around, like, they'd been used recently.
And the footprints in the dirt. They looked recent enough to me.
something told me, we were standing in a spot where we
weren't, welcome, The tension cranked up even higher.
When I noticed, What Might Have Been small, animal bones near
the drum or maybe they weren't animal bones at all.
Mark just stared fiddling with his camera and I realized his
hand was shaking as he tried to take a picture.
A sense of being watched crawled up my spine.
I felt like if I turned around too quickly, I had catch sight
of someone peering at us through the trees.
We moved quietly, not wanting to leave more tracks.
Every step felt like a Gamble. Mark kept checking behind us,
but all I could see was that endless green wall of leaves.
I wanted to call out to test. If maybe there was a normal
explanation, some Rangers Outpost or old caretakers Hut,
But the place felt suffocating like any loud noise.
Might trigger something lurking in the underbrush.
When we finally convinced ourselves to step away from the
shack, we heard a distant crack like a branch snapping, except
it sounded purposeful close enough to send us running.
We exchanged glances both thinking the same thing.
Someone was out here. We wanted to be anywhere else.
We crashed through the trees ignoring the scrapes and the
sharp sting of nettles against our legs.
Every crunch behind us made me Flinch.
I was convinced we were being followed after what felt like
forever. We burst onto a narrow dirt
road, a few miles from the house.
We stood there panting our clothes smeared with mud Hearts
going like mad. Mark kept looking over his
shoulder but I didn't see anything chasing us. that made
it worse in a way not knowing if we'd really heard someone or if
paranoia had taken over, Back at the old place, we flung open the
door and sank into a pair of dusty chairs.
I found a half flat soda in the fridge and downed it, my throat
raw from running. Mark asked in a shaky voice.
You think it's connected. The people with the flash lights
back then. Could they still be out there?
all I could do was shrug I told him about the folks in town who
sometimes whispered about Shady happening in the bush.
Illegal stuff hidden camps people.
You don't want to meet after dark.
That night I called Dad. He sounded worried but not
surprised. Said he'd heard rumors for
years. A place deep in the forest that
got used for God knows what My mind drifted to the bullet
holes, the axes and that barrel of burned clothes.
Maybe we interrupted whoever set up that Shack.
Maybe they were just waiting for us to leave.
Mark and I spent a few hours packing up.
Neither of us wanted to hang around woori yallock anymore.
As we locked up and headed off in my car, I stared at the tree
line. Part of me knew we'd probably
never find out the whole truth. Whatever happened in that bush
both that night years ago. And now felt like it belonged to
another world. One that didn't appreciate
strangers. I kept thinking about the taping
on the tenth. Those whispered voices and how
someone clearly had a place nearby for a reason.
And as much as I had always been drawn to the Wilderness, I
realized there are parts of it that aren't meant to be
discovered by people like me. As a child or young teenager, I
had a very strange experience in the woods.
I'm not sure if this encounter involved, some kind of entity or
perhaps something else, I hope someone can give me more
information about what happened to me and my friend.
I female was around 12 years old at the time and one of my best
friends, let's call him Alex was about 10.
Alex's father had purchased a large tract of forested land
about 100 kilometers from the city we lived in Montreal
Canada. It was all Forest when his
family bought it. So they cleared a small patch to
build a house leaving the rest as untouched Woodland.
Their property was split by a dirt road that if followed for
several kilometres led to a few other houses.
Each side of that dirt road felt very different on the right side
where their house was the forest was light and luminous.
Or at least it felt that way. It wasn't too dense with gentle
Rolling Hills, a lovely place to play on the left side of the
road. However, it was a different
story. First, there was a deep ditch
about two meters down, and then a steep hill.
Oddly, this ditch was full of old car parts all along the road
wheels doors, steering wheels, everything covered in Moss.
Beyond that Steep Hill, the forest felt ominous filled with
tall, dark coniferous trees that seemed devoid of light or life.
Sometimes we climbed that Hill though, rarely because it gave
us the creeps, and there was a sort of swamp at the top.
Whenever we ventured there, we felt an unsettling pressure,
like an instinct telling us to leave.
The creepy atmosphere was obvious to both me and Alex and
we jokingly called that side of the road, the demons Forest.
One weekend, probably in 2001 or 2002 my family and I visited
Alex's family. Tired of listening to the
adults. We decided to play in the
forest. Alex's father, warned us about
an animal that had been rummaging in their trash bin
apparently. A Rottweiler like dog that might
belong to someone farther up the dirt road.
He said it looked on healthy or diseased, maybe missing, patches
of fur, so we shouldn't interact with it.
If we saw it off, we went it was Autumn.
And the leaves were golden, many all ready on the ground, the day
was calm and slightly overcast with no wind at all.
Just a very still atmosphere. We walked along the dirt road
with a pleasant Forest to our right and the demons forests to
our left. We chatted, as we followed the
road uphill, feeling slightly, uneasy about the creepy Forest
on the left. We tried to be brave and ignore
the unsettling vibe. Eventually well out of sight of
Alex's home. I noticed something odd on the
left side where the Steep Hill Rose above us, a large dark pine
tree hung over the road. Someone had tied a pink ribbon
to one of its branches, which was already strange because
Alex's family had no daughters or other young girls around.
The ribbons loose ends were flapping almost horizontally as
if in strong wind, but there was no wind at all.
I even touched the ribbon and did the old lick your finger and
hold it up trick. My dad taught me, there was no
Breeze yet. The ribbon kept flapping I
mentioned to Alex but he seemed preoccupied so I let it go and
we kept walking We soon reached a spot where the hill on the
left wasn't so steep. It looked as though, the
hillside had been carved out in a shallow half, circle making it
easy to climb into the Demon's Forest.
From where we stood, the road felt like a stage and the slope
of Fallen, red and gold leaves stretched up in front of us with
trees, starting at the top of about nine meters higher.
We pause to admire the view Canadian autumns are truly
beautiful. Suddenly Alex got excited.
He said he heard something up in the demons Forest he claimed
there were wild cats in there he and his dad had seen them and
one had reportedly had kittens to kids our age.
The idea of kittens was thrilling though I couldn't
shake my unease. He insisted.
He just heard a cat, meow. I hadn't heard a thing and
doubted him but he wanted us to meow back in hopes the cat and
possibly its kitten's would come our way.
Before I could protest he let out a loud meow out or the
forest to my shock the forest meowed back.
Alex was delighted. He meowed again once more
something responded from the woods, I was unsettled.
It didn't make any sense. Still, I stayed quiet to see
what would happen every time he meowed.
There was an immediate Meow in return.
It wasn't an echo. There were no hard surfaces for
sound to bounce off and it only returned our meows, nothing
else. Alex became even more excited.
Listen, it's coming toward us. He said sure that the cat was
approaching with its kitten's and disturbingly enough, there
was the clear rustle of leaves as something approached from
higher up the slope. But it felt wrong cats are small
and quiet. They don't make such a racket.
It sounded more like footsteps, heavy ones almost like someone
walking on two legs and the sound was definitely getting
closer. My instinct screamed, that
something was off, but Alex was oblivious and kept calling out,
then it hit me. We had an open view of the slope
yet. We saw nothing.
If something was coming at us, we should have seen it plainly.
There was nothing but rustling and meowing sounds.
Soon, multiple sets of rustling seemed to converge getting
closer with nothing visible. I wanted to run but Alex got
mad. He believed the kitten's were
nearly there. By that time, I felt real fear,
we were Exposed on that stage and whatever was approaching was
definitely not a bunch of playful kittens.
I was about to drag him back home.
When it happened. I heard loud panting, right, at
my feet for a split second, I wasn't alarmed.
It sounded just like my husky panting next to me.
Then dread sees me. My dog was nowhere near here.
So this had to be another dog. A big one standing, right at my
feet. I looked down ready to jump away
but there was nothing there. The panting continued, loud and
unmistakable. As if something was inches from
me, I spun around screaming searching for the source.
Still nothing then I glanced up the dirt road about 100 meters
away at the top of the slope. Stood alone, dog.
It resembled a Rottweiler butt. Was an awful, shape, patchy,
fur, filthy, with bits of skin exposed.
It was staring straight at us. There was no way.
I could hear that dog panting from such a distance, especially
so loudly at my feet. At that point, my flight
Instinct kicked in I have never run faster in my life.
Thankfully it was all downhill Alex was right beside me all so
terrified we made it home safely and never walked in those woods
again. I visited Alex's place, many
more times over the years, but always avoided those woods.
We had some great parties there as teenagers sometimes, staying
up late, and having fun. still, I felt uneasy whenever I went
out at night, When I slept over, I often had strange experiences
upon waking. I had since that something, was
there watching me? In that half awake state, I even
saw a shape floating near the ceiling.
I never felt it was immediately threatening more like, it was
observing me. I'm not sure if that was related
to what happened on the dirt road.
We never discussed that day again.
Recently I did some research and found that this land is
historically associated with the Algonquin people.
The One Source mentioned Mohawk, if anyone has insights into what
I experienced, I would be grateful for any clarification.
I still remember how my stomach twisted and excited knots that
night. Mike and I had just finished a
simple low-key dinner. One of those casual First Dates
where you're not entirely sure if you've impressed the other
person. We were sitting in his car
lingering in the parking lot. Both of us glancing at each
other like we didn't want the night to end.
That's when he suggested it. A midnight hike up.
Provo Canyon. Part of me hesitated, I knew the
canyon could be almost after dark but I was riding a wave of
adrenaline. Eager to see where this new
connection might leave without a second thought I said yes
pretending, I was braver than I felled We left the comforting
glow of streetlights and drove deeper into the canyon.
With each passing Mi the usual home of nighttime activity
vanished replaced by a quiet, so dense.
It made me lean forward in my seat.
I caught fleeting silhouettes of towering Cliffs on either side
of the road. Barely outlined by Starshine
Mike kept tapping. The steering wheel seemingly at
ease, but I caught him squinting at the unlit trailhead as we
pulled over. Watching him, reach for a
flashlight. Gave me a small surge of
reassurance. Even if I wasn't sure, that
little Bheem could do much out here, Once we stepped out, the
cold are wrapped around me. I tugged my jacket tighter
silently second guessing my decision.
Mike took the lead on a narrow path that cut between shadowy
Rock faces. At first, the atmosphere felt
almost romantic. The crunch of gravel under our
feet, the faint rustle of leaves overhead.
It felt like we had this entire slice of nature to ourselves.
But with each step, my awareness of how isolated we were grew.
My breaths started coming quicker and I found myself
checking the trail behind us now, and then half expecting
something to emerge from the darkness.
Mike still hadn't admitted. He was nervous.
But I noticed how he kept scanning the path ahead.
He'd mentioned he was familiar with the area.
Yet his Pace slowed every few strides like he was trying to
decide if we should go on or turn back.
I kept telling myself that nothing was actually wrong, that
it was just nerves playing tricks on me.
Still, I couldn't deny the strangeness in the air.
The way every sound from our footsteps to the slightest
Breeze. Felt Amplified, Eventually, we
reached a stretch where overhanging branches blocked
what little Starlight. We had.
Mike flicked on the flash light and the beam waived casting
frantic shape across the ground. The path seemed narrower than
ever. And I noticed that he gripped.
The light. So tightly, his knuckles turned
white. We pressed on with careful
steps. I thought about suggesting we
turn around, but I didn't want him to think.
I was a coward. Maybe he felt the same because
neither of us. Spoke.
That's when Mike halted I almost bumped into him.
He didn't move for a few seconds and a sliver of panic.
Surged through me the flash light beam, grazed the dirt
Illuminating a lump in our path. Something that didn't fit the
usual rocks and branches. My pulse throbbed.
Mike shifted back, not daring to nudge it again.
He raised the flashlight a little and the beam flickered
over. Rough ground, but I still
couldn't make out what was lying there.
The quiet pressed in. We locked eyes and I knew
instantly that we both wanted to run.
Neither of us asked questions, we pivoted and retraced our
steps with hurried intensity. Every bump of my shoe against
the gravel fell Thundurus. The flash light swung back and
forth. Revealing just enough to guide
us out but I kept imagining Silhouettes lurking Beyond its
Edge. I didn't breathe easy until we
reached the car. Even then my hands shook so
hard. I had trouble fasting my
seatbelt. We drove away in a tense
silence. Each two unsettled to speak. the
farther we got from the trailhead, the more my chest
loosened but a queasy sense of Unfinished Business clung to me
I tried to make a joke about how we picked a ridiculous way to
spend a first date, but the words died on my lips.
Mike Force to have smile though his eyes stayed glued to the
empty Highway. In that moment, I told myself it
was just a late night, scare, some weird fluke.
We were both alive unhurt. So what was there to worry
about? But part of me couldn't ignore
the electric sense that we dodged something Dreadful a
brush with a threat that had no name yet.
We never spoke about that shapeless lump on the trail and
deep down, I think we both knew. We'd never forget it.
For a while we pretended nothing had happened on that trail.
Mike and I carried on with our lives, dating moving in
together, eventually tying the knot, and we never once brought
up the memory of that strange night.
It became an unspoken agreement if we didn't talk about it,
maybe it would fade away every. So often though, I caught him
glancing at me in the dark like he was pondering the same
question. I was too afraid to voice.
Did we really bump into something serious out there?
Or was it all in our heads? Years passed in relative, peace.
We settled into a small apartment, got steady jobs, even
started hosting Saturday, brunches for our friends.
Life felt almost normal until the evening.
We came across a television program about Ted Bundy.
It wasn't the usual True Crime special.
I might have tuned out. Something about the interviewers
tone made me pause. I can't explain it but I felt a
chill as Mike and I looked at each other.
Froze, mid-bite of his dinner. Remotes still in hand.
On screen Bundy talked with a disturbing calm as though he was
describing a casual outing. Then he was asked about the
night. He almost got caught in, Provo
Canyon. My heart began to pound so
violently. I thought it might drown out the
sound from the TV. At first, I refused to believe
it. Could be our story, but he
described luring a girl there. Disposing of her body and
hearing a pair of hikers. Heading up the trail.
He mentioned that the man practically stepped on the
victim and for a moment he thought he'd been found out.
But then inexplicably, those two people just turned around and
vanished into the darkness. I looked at Mike waiting for him
to say something. Hoping he'd crack a joke or
reassure me. It was a coincidence but he
stared at the screen jaw, clenched eyes wide as if he'd
seen a ghost. In that silence realization
slammed into me. I felt my pulse jumped to my
temples and a wave of nausea washed over me.
It couldn't be anyone else. We were the ones who stumbled
into that nightmare. It had to be the same night.
The same Canyon the same detail of stepping on something that
didn't belong there. I don't remember how long we sat
in that stunned fog before one of us reached over and muted the
TV. all I recall is the weight of what we'd learned pressing
down on us like a crushing Vice Neither of us, knew what to say.
It was a minute, maybe two but it felt like an hour.
We just stared at each other grappling with the nauseating
certainty that we had been yards away.
Mere steps away from one of the most vicious predators in modern
history. From that night on our memory of
the midnight hike changed forever.
Up until then, we could treat it like an odd.
Camping story. Gone wrong.
Something we'd over inflated in our imaginations.
But with the truth out in the open, I started having these
jolting flashbacks in the middle of the night.
I dream, I was back on that trail surrounded by Blackness
hearing Phantom footsteps behind us.
In my nightmares, Mike and I turned around, and we weren't
alone. I'd wake up gasping.
Unable to shake the possibility that Bundy had been mere inches
behind a tree watching us. Maybe even considering how
easily he could take us both. Mike became quieter in the weeks
that followed he stopped going to The Climbing Gym lost
interest in the adventure sports.
He used to love One day, he admitted, he couldn't stand the
sound of gravel anymore because it reminded him of our rush to
the car that night. That confession actually made me
feel less alone in my fear, I wasn't the only one consumed by
it. We never reported anything to
the police, because by then it was long in the past.
Bundy was already locked away, no longer a threat to anyone but
that sense of helplessness stayed with us.
We'd been so clueless, so close to tragedy and it was pure luck
that we stumbled out unscathed. There's a certain guilt that
comes with surviving when someone else obviously didn't
and that guilt settled over us like a heavy shroud even.
Now if the topic of late night, hiking comes up at a
get-together Mike and I exchanged knowing looks our
friends have no clue about the dark secret.
We share Sometimes they'll ask if we want to go on a group
camping trip, but we always find an excuse. they don't understand
why we refuse and I hope they never have to These days, I
don't think about it constantly. But every once in a while,
something like a news story or a flicker of movement, in my
peripheral vision will jolt the memory back.
I'll be transported to that moment on the trail.
The darkness pressing in my stomach nodding.
In a sudden surge of alarm as my foot, grazes something
indescribable. And I'll recall the Stark truth.
In those moonless hours, a twisted mind lurked.
Just out of sight. Watching our every step we left
with our lives. Someone else, never made it out.
Will carry that knowledge with us silently, for the rest of our
days. I crawled out of my bunk at the
ranger station hours before Sunrise, feeling a flicker of
anticipation in my chest. Early Mornings in Yellowstone.
Usually give me a calm. Kind of thrill like the park is
mine alone for just a little while.
I did a quick gear, check under the buzzing fluorescent, light
water, snacks, my radio a small first aid kit.
Everything seemed in order. A couple of colleagues were
sipping coffee nearby but we just nodded at each other.
We all had our own plans for the day and I was already focused on
getting out to the Lamar Valley. The drive to the trailhead was
quiet. No!
Tourists at that hour. No long lines of cars.
Just the open road and the promise of Solitude.
When I finally parked and started walking the sun began
its slow climb painting the sky with gentle streaks of pink and
gold. The air tasted fresh and a few
bison dotted the far edges of the valley.
I remember thinking. This is what I love about this
job. Everything felt peaceful in that
moment. I covered the first few miles at
an easy Pace, scanning The Horizon for wolves or else.
The grass was long shifting and wave that made the landscape.
Look almost alive. Normally, I find that movement
comforting, but something nagged at the back of my mind, a kind
of tension. I couldn't quite name.
The only sounds were my own footfalls and the soft Russell
of wind. No faint hum of other hikers, no
distant vehicles. It felt like the valley and I
were the only two things in existence.
Around 11 miles from the nearest Road, the trail opened up into a
wide clearing. That's where I saw it.
At first, I assumed it was a large Rock half buried in the
dirt. But stepping closer revealed the
unmistakable shape of a deer's head.
A doe to be exact it lay right in the middle of the path, as if
it had been placed with precise intention.
My pulse thudded, heavy in my ears as I moved in for a better
look. I'd seen plenty of wildlife
remains over the years carcasses, torn apart by Wolves
or bears, half and by scavengers, This was different,
no blood pulled around it and the neck ended in an
unsettlingly smooth line. The doze eyes were wide open
appearing almost alive. If you didn't stare too hard.
No marks, no ragged fur, nothing.
Just ahead that looked Untouched by teeth or talents or anything
else. Even the local Ravens, which
would normally sweep in or nowhere to be seen.
I crouched down trying to keep my voice steady in case I needed
to radio back to headquarters. But my radio only hissed static,
the valley blocking out a clear signal.
My hands trembled a bit. As I snapped a few photos, the
camera lens focusing on every unsettling detail.
Part of me wanted to check for the rest of the body, but the
logical side of my brain. Knew it would be close by if a
natural predator had been responsible.
There wasn't a single track. No drag marks in the dirt.
No sign of a struggle. Stepping around the area felt
like I was tiptoeing through some kind of forbidden zone.
The sun was still shining but the scene radiated a strange
Darkness. All its own I glanced toward the
Tall, Grass half expecting to see movement, maybe a lurking
animal or a person crouched out of sight. my unease swelled with
every second eventually, I decided I'd gather all I could
my radio still crackled uselessly and the notion of
returning to a better Vantage for a clear signal felt urgent.
Before I left, I took one last long, look at that suffered head
burned the image into my mind. I'd handled my share of bizarre
situations as a ranger, but this one felt Beyond bizarre.
There was a deep sense that something wanted me to see this.
As if the valley itself had decided to show me something it
kept hidden from everyone else. I turned away heart pounding and
started back along the trail wrestling with too many
questions and too few answers. My usual comfort in the Solitude
had evaporated. the wide open landscape felt oddly suffocating
and I knew as I moved further from that horrifying sight that
I wouldn't rest until I found some explanation, no matter how
impossible it seemed I made my way back along the winding trail
with a knot in my stomach, replaying every moment I had
spent crouched beside that, severed deer head.
The air felt colder than it had an hour of ago.
Even though the sun still glared overhead.
Each step kicked up dust that settled on my boots.
But I hardly noticed. My eyes were glued to the
Horizon scanning for any sign of movement.
It felt like something could be watching from behind the
swaying, grass, the path began to climb steadily.
And I fought the temptation to pick up the pace.
It wasn't just the shock of what I had found.
It was the weight of all the unanswered questions.
Crushing my nerves. The dull crackle of static on my
radio finally began to morph into a faint of chatter.
As I cleared the ridge, my heart gave a leap grateful for even a
sliver of connection to the outside world.
I paused on a rocky outcrop studying my breath and lifted
the radio to my lips. Face.
This is Ranger Shelton. I said my voice trembling more
than I wanted come in. The silence was agonizing
punctuated by a hiss of static, then a voice crackled through
low and cautious Shelton. This is bass, we read you
everything. Okay?
Out there. I almost laughed at the
question. I I need to report something
unusual. I managed my mouth felt dry.
My tongue thick. How could I possibly describe
what I saw? There's a deer head a doe.
It's been cleanly severed. No blood no tracks.
No body. 11 mi in A heavy Paws stretched over the connection.
Say again, the voice asked clearly uncertain.
I took a deep breath doing my best to sound calm.
A severed, deer head intact. It's right in the middle of the
trail. There's no evidence of a
predator. All right, the dispatcher
finally replied copy that will send someone to check it out
stand by for further instructions.
The click of the radio going silent rattled me more than I
expected. I'd hoped for an immediate
explanation, some kind of logical solution.
But nothing came. Instead I had the echo of my own
words in my head sounding more absurd by the second.
I continue to the ridge, the silence closing in again.
The bright sunlight felted odds with the dark unease that clung
to me. And I realized I had been
walking with my shoulders hunched tight as if bracing for
something behind me, my mind wouldn't quit circling the same
questions. What could severe ahead?
So neatly out here in the middle of nowhere?
Who would go to such lengths just to leave it on a path.
And why it dough with no antlers or anything of Worth to a
poacher. By the time, I reached my camp
that evening I could barely keep from Pacing in the soft glow of
my flash light, I scrolled through the photos.
I'd taken zooming in on each bizarre detail.
The eyes still looked alive I found myself staring at the
smooth cut, hoping to see some clue.
That might have escaped me out in the field.
Every angle just drove home, how unnatural it was.
My mind. Darted back to Fireside rumors,
I'd heard from fellow Rangers in the past stories of strange
figures. Glimpse at the edge of the
woods. Unearthly sounds echoing through
Canyons at night. I'd always thought they were
Tall Tales something to Spook new hires, but tonight I found
it harder to dismiss them. I called it an early night but
sleep refused to come. I kept tossing half lost in
nightmares of severed. Animal parts scattered around
the park. Each time I drifted off, I
jerked awake with the Sensation that something had brushed past
my 10. The wind out side, Russell the
branches, but it might as well have been claws.
Scratching at the fabric. The next morning despite feeling
like I barely slept. I was wide awake.
Before Dawn, a colleague Ranger Peters had overheard my radio
call and offered to come along for a second look.
We set off together packs slung, over our shoulders, the sky a
week that hinted at Sunrise Peter's was taller than me,
Broad shouldered and calm, just the kind of presence I needed
after my rattled night. We hiked briskly barely talking
as the words might invite some unseen Force into our
conversation. It took a solid couple of hours
to reach the spot, I'd marked on my map.
I led the way my heart hammering in my chest.
With every step I waited to smell that metallic scent of
fresh kill, or see a flash of white fur in the grass.
Nothing. When we finally reached the
exact location, my breath caught in my throat.
The deer head was gone. The trail was empty, the grass
on ruffled. Not a single trace of anything
unusual. I even recognized the same
Twisted, tree trunk, I'd used as a landmark.
But the path before it was spotless.
I knelt and ran my hand over the ground.
No stains. No scuffs.
It looked like nothing more gruesome than a gentle morning.
Breeze. Had passed through here.
Peter's, frowned and glanced at me.
I saw doubt flicker across his face. but I quickly pulled out
my phone and showed him the photographs Studied them
intently, could it have been a coyote or something dragging it
off? I shook my head, there wasn't a
single footprint when I founded and it was too clean.
If something dragged it away, I'd expect signs of that too.
Peter's exhaled, scanning The Horizon.
The valley stretched out. Calm as ever bison.
Ambling in the distance. Like this was just another quiet
day. but now that I'd witnessed that disturbing spectacle, the
idyllic scene felt like a facade, I couldn't shake the
sense. We were trespassing in a place
that didn't want us here. We spent the better part of the
morning searching. The immediate area peering into
every Halo and patch of grass. I even walked a wide circle
around the spot hoping to find something broken Twigs.
Fur, hidden bones. Absolutely nothing turned up.
The further, we looked the more oppressive the silence grew.
Peter's, finally broke it. Look he said quietly I believe
you. This is weird.
Let's get back and see if anyone else has come across anything
like this. He shot me a worried glance and
for the first time since I'd found that head, I felt a sliver
of relief. At least I wasn't alone in how
unsettled I felt. We started our Trek Back To The
Ridge. Exchanging.
Uneasy theories. Maybe there was an unknown
predator or some deranged individual roaming the park.
Even as we spoke our words felt Hollow.
None of it explained how the scene was so meticulously clean
or why the head had vanished Without a Trace?
By late afternoon. I was back at Camp.
My boots Dusty, and my mood tenser than ever, Peters had
gone on to file a report with bass while I lingered unsettled
by the nagging feeling that this was only the beginning.
I knew I wouldn't rest easy that night or any night soon until I
found an answer. But the truth seemed to be
buried somewhere in those Rolling Hills hidden by the
endless sway of grass and an unsettling.
Hush that said somethings are meant to stay unknown.
I tried to tell myself. It was a freak occurrence.
An unexplainable Quirk of nature.
I'd stumbled upon But as the sun set behind the mountains,
washing the sky with orange and Crimson, I felt the weight of a
darker possibility. One that whispered, maybe, just
maybe we'd stepped into territory, far beyond our
understanding and that was a reality.
I didn't know how to face I was 15 just trying to bag a few
squirrels on a crisp October morning.
That Halo had been a gold. Mine a few days before.
So I headed in again, feeling pretty confident.
Within minutes. I spotted a half dozen squirrels
hopping from Branch to Branch chattering away and rummaging
for acorns. Everything seemed totally normal
until they all froze. Their quick barks echoed for a
heartbeat and then every single squirrel vanished in an instant,
no rustling leaves, no errant chatter nothing.
I stood there scanning every tree wondering what could
possibly have spooked them so quickly that's when this roaring
crash echoed from a nearby Gully.
Like someone or something tearing through brush with out
trying to be discreet. I glanced toward the noise and
noticed a tall figure stepping through the undergrowth.
At first, I squinted thinking maybe it was my dad who was
somewhere in the area but as my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I
realized it was towering Broad shouldered, and moving with a
casual ease, most people don't have in rough terrain.
It was hard to tell details, long arms, strange gate, but it
never once dropped to all fours, the way a bear, might it stayed
on two legs. Like a person who was perfectly
comfortable. Walking upright through rugged
country, my nerves were in overdrive.
I remember calling out. Hello.
Because my brain insisted this could be a lost hiker, the
figure immediately hunched low. Like it was trying to vanish
behind a fallen log or thick brush.
I called again more uncertain this time and it whipped its
head around locking eyes with me from a distance.
In that moment, an awful realization crept over me.
It was way too large and agile to be any normal person.
The proportions were almost human but everything about its
presence screamed that it wasn't.
My gut told me to run yet. A part of me stayed rooted in
place mesmerized. By the way, it seemed to blend
into the Shadows. I took a hesitant Step Closer.
My mind, screaming conflicting thoughts about whether to help
or flee, but the creature reacted first it launched in to
a Sprint still upright, unbelievably fast like it had
practiced that motion 1000 times before.
It darted away covering grounded at a pace.
That made me feel absolutely helpless.
If it decided to turn on me, the silence that followed was
crushing, no birds, no squirrels not even the wind.
I realized that if that thing wanted me gone, I wouldn't stand
a chance. I scrambled out of the Halo
constantly checking over my shoulder heart pounding the
entire time. That experience stuck with me
but a second, incident shook me again, this time closer to home,
I was walking my dog at night in a nearby Field.
The air was still and he was off, sniffing at the grass out
of nowhere. A roar ripped through the
darkness louder than anything I'd ever heard.
Like some nightmare mixture of a huge cat in a wild canine, it
vibrated in my chest and unearthly sound that instantly
changed, everything around me. My dog, whose usually Fearless
tucked his tail and ran back to our yard at top speed.
He wouldn't come out of his dog house for hours.
I'm not sure which rattled me more.
Seeing that tall unnatural figure or hearing a roar that
defied explanation. Both encounters left me feeling
as if the boundaries I'd always set between the woods and
civilization had been torn down. Even now, whenever I wander
Outdoors on quiet, evening's part of me, braces for the
unexpected. I catch myself listening for any
unnatural silence, or scanning, the Treetops in case,
something's watching, It's not just fear.
It's an awareness that there might be more out there than we
care to believe. and once you've caught a glimpse or heard the
echo, you can pretend otherwise I remember the first day I
stepped into that overgrown patch of forest feeling like I
discovered a secret. No one else had ever noticed.
There was this old broken-down path, half buried in the dirt.
Leading up to the outlines of what must have been a fanciest
State ages ago. Most of it was swallowed up by
roots and leaves like the place decided it belonged to Nature
now. I couldn't stop glancing around
half excited, half convinced something might jump out at any
second. I was young enough to think I
owned the world but old enough to sense when I was trespassing
somewhere, I probably shouldn't be.
My friend, and I spent weekends there mostly messing around with
sticks and scraps of tarp to build these ridiculous fort-like
structures. We treated every pile of stone
or broken bench like an invitation to explore a lot of
the time. We just ended up tearing our
clothes on brambles, but that felt like a small price to pay
for the thrill We'd laugh about how empty the forest was never
once spotted any other footprints in the mud or heard
any voices beyond our own. It was just us the rustle of
branches overhead and an uneasy quiet that pressed in if you
paused to listen Then one day we found something.
I still can't quite wrap my mind around.
Tucked behind a cluster of rotting logs, we discovered a
mess of magazines that had definitely seen better days.
The pages were all warped and smelled, like they'd been rained
on a million times. They look decades, old haircuts
and outfits like something out of a bad TV special.
We Shrugged it off as some random stash left behind by
hikers or whoever used to live here. still, it made the forest
feel even more like our domain Like we were uncovering relics,
nobody else had bothered to touch.
Eventually though our gaze shifted toward this wall of
bamboo in the distance it didn't match anything else around it,
it was far too thick and too perfectly arranged to be
natural. We'd spent so long goofing
around in the same few spots that are curiosity, was
practically gnawing out of us. We'd peer through the stalks
trying to see if there was anything behind them, but it was
all shadows and green leaves. Maybe that's what made it so
intriguing. It was the only patch of the
forest that refused to let us in.
After weeks of idle talk, we decided we were done just
staring. If nobody else claimed that
area, it was time for us to stake our claim.
We grabbed a pair of heavy garden shears from my garage.
Stuffing them in a backpack. So it didn't look like we were
up to no good. That morning.
I remember the sun was out and the air was muggy.
Like the forest was trying to warn Us in its own quiet way.
But we pretended not to notice. Hacking through that bamboo was
a lot tougher than we planned. Thick stalks resisted, every
snip and old leaves whipped at our arms.
Leaving fins scratches, we were sweating and covered in Flex of
plant matter. By the time we made an archway
big enough to crawl through. The second we slipped inside it
was like stepping onto another planet.
Gone where the Tangled weeds and random rocks.
Instead a soft layer of clovers covered the ground looking
almost staged as if someone had groomed the place and then we
noticed the statues. Knee-high furry figures perched.
On little mushroom pedestals, they would have been Whimsical
if not for the damage, each face was shattered.
Stone Shard. Sprinkled the Clover, like
broken teeth. I felt sure we tripped into some
bizarre art installation, except there was no sign of an artist.
And in the center of the clearing stood, this hulking
block. Up close.
It looked like a coffin made of rough concrete or stone.
Vines creeping along the sides. We ran our hands over the
carvings but they were worn down to nonsense shapes.
Of course we had to see if we could lift the lid because
that's what impulsive kids do. But it wouldn't budge, not even
an inch. Eventually the sticky Heat and
the pressing hush of the place got to us.
We backed off and made our way back through the bamboo.
Once we were out, we practically raced each other to the nearby
playground. Sitting there on the swing's.
Breathing, in the normal afternoon are everything felt a
little less intense. But underneath our forced
laughter was that shared awareness, we'd found something
off limits. Something we could ingest,
forget part of me was thrilled. The other part was screaming
that we should leave well enough alone.
Even then I knew we weren't going to stay away curiosity
nodded us and the forest had become our personal Kingdom that
coffin, those smashed, fairy statues, the Eerie hush, it all
pulled me in even though Common Sense said to walk away.
The day ended with me. Wandering home in a daze telling
myself. I'd keep it secret from the
adults. Like they wouldn't believe me,
even if I tried, I couldn't. Stop picturing that broken ring
of bamboo leading into a silent circle of green.
And I couldn't decide if I was excited or scared out of my
mind, that we'd actually go back.
I woke up the next morning under a sky, so dim it could have
passed for dusk. Low hanging clouds pressed down
on the neighborhood. Like the heavens wanted to warn
me off. But that only fed my sense of
determination. The images from the previous
day, though. Those broken fairy statues.
The silent carpet of clovers that solid slab of rock had
become an obsession. I couldn't push aside.
My friend, and I met up at the corner of our street.
Each lugging pieces of plywood and worn Metal Sheets convinced.
We were about to build the world's most hidden Den.
The walk to the forest different this time.
A breeze hissed between the branches overhead and the ground
seemed so here than usual, swallowing our feet as we
trudged along. We joked about how we were
making a fortress, but there was attention in our voices that we
tried to hide. Every step closer sent a flicker
of dread through my mind, but I kept telling myself, it was just
nerves childish fantasies. This was our place.
After all, if anybody had a right to it, we did.
When we reached the bamboo Ring, We slipped through our makeshift
opening. The clearing was exactly as we
left it. Thick vibrant, clovers underfoot
and those smashed fairy statues. Still perched in Eerie half,
poses on mushroom pedestals. With the dark sky overhead.
The Clover's bright green looked almost luminous as if drawing
attention to every stone Shard on the ground.
No birds, no rustling leaves. Just an unsettling hush.
That reminded me of a held breath.
My friend and I set down the wood and metal sheets.
Then started hammering and propping things up to form a
rough frame that clang of metal on metal, clashed sharply with
the silence echoing around us in a way that made my skin crawl.
I kept throwing sideways glances at the Big Stone coffee in the
center of the clearing. It still had those twisting
Vines draped over it and the war inscription along the side
hinted at a past, no one remembers part of me.
Wanted to go near it again. See if maybe I had missed some
detail before But I was afraid that if I touched it, something
would happen that logic couldn't explain.
We kept working trying to keep up the bravado with forced
jokes. I remember us giggling about how
we'd never have to worry about other kids barging in.
Nobody was messing with a bamboo Fortress in the middle of
nowhere. Our laughter sounded Hollow each
time the wind gusted. The stalks of bamboo rattled
like bones clacking together. And a current of dreads sparked
in my stomach. Then my friend, let out a
jarring, yell before I even turned around the tone of his
voice. Told me everything I needed to
know, I dropped the Rusted nail, I was holding spun on my heel
and saw him stumbling backward. His eyes were locked on the
coffin and I followed his gaze. The lid that had refused to
shift, even a fraction the day before was now moved aside
leaving a narrow Gap. Ivy tendrils that had once
draped over the scene, where snapped, or hanging limply, as
though, something had forced its way out for a moment.
I stood Frozen in place a stale, almost earthy odor wafted from
that dark opening and my mind conjured, all kinds of Grimm
possibilities. My legs practically twitched
with the urge to run, but I took a single Step Closer just enough
to see a slice of that void inside.
Nothing was visible. Just pure Blackness that seemed
to absorb any light. My friend whispered something
maybe my name and it broke the trance.
I'd fallen into we didn't need to say a word to agree on our
next move. We bolted.
The instant we dashed out of the clearing the sky opened up with
driving rain as if it had waited for the most dramatic moment.
Blinded by water splashing into our faces.
We tore through the woods, Thorns slashing our arms, That
hush that had suffocated the clearing vanished replaced by a
thunderous Rush of wind and our own ragged breath.
My lungs burned. By the time we crashed onto the
muddy path, near the neighborhood.
Playground Rain hammered, the metal slides and swings.
And the few people walking nearby gave us odd looks We
staggered under the shelter of an old oak crouching.
Like, we were being chased. Nobody else seemed to alarmed.
They couldn't sense the fear. We carried.
Neither of us talked for a long moment.
There was no joking about forts. No bragging about secret
hideouts. Just shaky exhales.
Finally, my friend muttered that we were done with that place.
He didn't say why or argue any further.
We both knew some lines aren't worth Crossing some Secrets.
Not worth prying into. Whatever open that coffin, we
didn't care to find out. We never bothered to go back for
the wood or Metal Sheets. We'd Dragged In Even when the
weather cleared and the next weekend rolled around, we
couldn't summon the nerve. Anytime one of us, brought it up
an uneasy chill settled between us like we were recalling.
Something that should have stayed buried in our own minds.
Our private Kingdom had turned on us and all I wanted was to
forget the sight of that stone lid pushed aside inviting
questions. I never want.
Wanted answered. I always thought our late cabin
was a safe place. My family had been coming here
for years, enjoying the Stillwater, in the sense of
isolation. We never quite found anywhere
else. It's practically the middle of
nowhere. No, public docks.
Barely any cell service. Unclear days.
You can hear the echo of a loon or spot.
The occasional Eagle coasting on a thermal For me, it felt like a
private Hideaway. earlier this summer, my husband and I got
restless We'd been eyeing the abandoned Girls Camp across the
lake since we arrived. It sat there like a faded
photograph peeling, paint and warped roofs just visible
through Tangled foliage Stories, floated around about how the
state let the camp wrote after it closed.
But nobody seemed to know the actual reason.
Curiosity, or maybe a streak of recklessness drove us to
explore. We launched our canoe and headed
across the water. The cabin's porch, light fading
behind us. The camps Shoreline was silent
the wind, rustled through overgrown, brush and Scattered
leaves across a narrow sagging. Doc up, close the old buildings
looked worse than I imagined windows were shattered and the
wooden steps leading up to what looked like the main house bowed
under the slightest pressure. We climbed onto the ports,
thudding. The afternoon sun, barely cut
through the dusty glass. I took a deep breath, bracing
myself for the stale suffocating are inside.
The moment we stepped in, I regretted it.
Everything felt unsettling, the walls were stained by water
leaks. The floor, squeaked with every
shift in weight and the smell reminded me of a Cellar that had
been locked up for years. torn mattresses, lay scattered and
what must have been a dining hall and shredded curtains hung
from rusted rods, We moved slowly feeling an unspoken
tension. My husband tried to lighten the
mood with a half-hearted comment about old camp stories.
But even his voice, sounded too loud, too.
Sharp in the hush. We poked around the first floor,
examining cracked, doorways leading into damp corridors.
An array of footprints, Criss crossed in the dust.
Some looked recent like boots. That alone sent a warning signal
through my mind, but I kept telling myself, it could be from
hikers or curious locals. As we move deeper, the place
took on an oppressive quality as though, the walls themselves
wanted us gone. Suddenly, I heard heavy thumps
above. Steady deliberate steps on the
second floor. My chest went tight.
My husband pause eyes locked on the dark stairwell at the far
end of the hall, the steps grew louder, and I realized that
whoever was up there was moving faster.
Crossing the floor with Force My pulse hammered, we both froze
for a split second. Not sure what to do next.
In a surge of panic. We bolted back the way we came.
The front door was our only target behind us.
Those Footsteps thundered in our direction, as though determined
to catch us. I yanked the door open
practically throwing myself outside.
We sprinted around the side of the building hoping to stay out
of sight of the person, or whoever it was came bounding out
my lungs burned. And all I could think was that
we trespassed into something we shouldn't have Just then the
porch boards. Grown again louder heavier.
We scurried into the tree line, ducking behind thick branches.
The undergrowth snagged our clothes, but we pushed forward
hearing someone stomping, just beyond the corner of the house.
I couldn't see a face, just heard an aggravated movement,
like they were hunting for intruders.
I nudged my husband to keep going, neither of us daring to
speak. We stuck to the outskirts,
making a wide loop around the lake.
Our canoe bobbed innocently where we'd left it, but we
couldn't risk drawing attention to ourselves.
We took a path through brush and mossy ground, nearly tripping
over roots and Fallen logs. Every rustle in the woods made
me Flinch. It felt like we were being
followed even though I couldn't pinpoint any new footsteps.
The crackling of leaves came in irregular bursts.
Could have been an animal could have been something else.
By the time we stumbled back to our own dock, the sun hung low,
over the water. I leaned against a post
breathing hard and staring at the far Shore.
The Old Camp looked like a dark silhouette.
Silent and menacing. My husband slumped beside me,
both of us drenched in sweat. We didn't bother with
explanations at first. The Panic on our faces said,
plenty my family, hurried outside alarmed by our
condition, but all we managed to do was stammer about heavy
footsteps and a Chase. We never wanted We left the
canoe behind that day. In our minds, it wasn't worth
risking another encounter. I kept thinking about those
stomping steps overhead how quickly they transitioned from a
slow tread to a Charged run. Maybe it was just a squatter but
I can't shake the uneasy feeling that there's more to that place
than will ever understand. we ended the evening, holed up
inside our cabin, glancing at the windows as dusk settled in
anxious about a lake that suddenly felt far too close to
something horrifying I spent the rest of that afternoon, glancing
across the water, hoping the abandoned Camp stayed quiet.
My sister and her husband huddled inside the cabin still
shaken. dad paced around the porch, tapping his foot clearly
thinking about the canoe left behind as evening approached.
He finally said, we needed to retrieve it, I didn't like the
thought, but he insisted, it was better to handle it while we
still had daylight. We set off in our small fishing
boat just as the light began to soften The lake was too calm.
Almost like it was anticipating something.
I sat at the bow trying not to stare at the dark outline of
that crumbling main house. Memories of my sister's story.
Kept bouncing around my head footsteps, pounding of that
frantic Chase through brush. I told myself that might have
been alone camper or some Drifter but that did nothing to
settle my nerves. By the time we pulled our boat
onto the shore, the place felt different The air was heavy and
the old buildings loomed ahead like warped, silhouettes.
Dad hefted a flashlight even though we still had a little
sunlight left. We moved forward both on edge,
neither one wanting to speak. It felt like even our voices
might invite something unwanted to come closer. the closer we
got to the main house, the more uneasy I became warped steps,
led up to a door that hung crooked on its hinges.
The windows were dark except for stray shards of glass that
occasionally glinted in the last of the sun's rays.
A damp odor drifted out of the building.
A quick sweep of the porch revealed discolored spots on the
floorboards, possibly just water damage but unsettling all the
same. Dad gestured for me to follow
him inside. We stepped over Rubble bits of
broken wood and Scattered debris.
That might have once been Camp gear.
Every step Drew out. A wine from the floor like a
warning. My thoughts were spinning with
questions. Could the Intruder from early?
Or still be here. Would they be watching us
deciding whether to confront us again?
We explored a few decaying rooms kitchen, counters rotted through
cabinets, torn off, hinges. A corridor led to smaller.
Bunk areas with sagging bed frames and ancient mattresses
covered in dust. I kept feeling like something.
Watched us from behind a doorway or a corner, just out of sight.
Dad pushed open each door carefully.
Shining the flashlight around the Gloom.
Every so often he'd pause listening, but no footsteps
emerged from above still the silence itself was unnerving.
My pulse throbbed in my ears and I kept turning around convinced,
something might be creeping closer.
When we reached the stairs to the second floor, a loose board
shifted beneath my foot with a loud.
Crack my heart hammered at the noise.
Dad gave me a look. That said we need to be quick.
We ascended the are growing must year as we climbed.
The hall way up. There was line with empty rooms
peeling, wallpaper hung in strips, and the odor of mold was
Stronger. Each step caused dust to float
around us in lazy swirls. A sliver of light came through a
shattered window at the far end. Illuminating scattered papers
Old Camp schedule may be Dad's flash light flicked over the
floor. Revealing footprints in the dust
that didn't seem recent but definitely warrant hours. we
found no signs of the heavy tread that had spooked my
sister, yet, the idea that someone had roamed this haul
remained My stomach Twisted, imagining that person sprinting
in these cramped corridors. after we finished scanning the
second floor, we hurried back down stairs A faint Echo.
Reached our ears from somewhere outside, a metallic clang, or
maybe just a piece of loose siding flapping Against the
Wind. dad muttered, it was probably nothing but neither of
us believe that We were too on edge.
Once we stepped onto the porch, again, relief, washed over me
momentarily at least we were out of that stale Darkness.
We made our way across the weed, choked lot toward the canoe, my
sister had tied it off to a small tree, but it looked like
the Rope had been shifted around.
Possibly the wind or changing water levels?
Did that, at least that's what we told ourselves.
Dad gave me a quick nod and we wasted no time lifting the canoe
tossing in our life vests and dragging it toward the water.
That's when a branch snaps somewhere behind us.
We both whipped around the yard was full of Tangled.
Growth and crumbling structures casting, odd shadows as the sun
dipped lower. No movement, no immediate
silhouette. Dad motion for us to keep going.
So we lowered the canoe into the shallows and shoved off.
My breath felt tight like I couldn't get enough air.
I refused to turn around until we were several yards out, but
curiosity, made me glance back eventually.
That lonely main house stared at us with broken windows.
It's porch sagging. Nothing moved among the trees.
As soon as we paddled into deeper water, the tension eased
a fraction. Dad and I spoke in hushed tones
about how the camp looked even more decrepit than before.
He said it was best. If we stayed away, maybe alerted
the local authorities. If we got the chance, Honestly,
I was too rattled to argue the last thing any of us wanted was
another run in with whoever or whatever had roamed, those
Halls. By the time we reached our
cabins Shore, the sun was slipping behind the tree line,
painting the lake in bronze and purple streets.
My family was waiting on the dock.
Anxious Expressions confirming. They'd been worried.
We hauled the canoe up onto our grass.
Forcing shaky Smiles while recounting what happened?
We told them, we hadn't, seen anyone just heard odd noises and
found things slightly out of place.
Deep down, I knew the uncertainty would keep me on
edge for the rest of the trip. Something about that camp felt
like a locked door. We'd opened inviting a question
of what or who lived inside we'd taken back our canoe.
But a sense of dread clung to me all evening.
When night finally fell I couldn't help glancing at the
black silhouette of that abandoned structure across the
water half certain I might spot a shape moving watching or
waiting for another chance to chase Intruders through its
ruins I'll be honest, it started out as the kind of night, you'd
brag about to your buddies. Carefree a little impulsive
exactly what we both needed. After dinner and a movie, we
decided we wanted something that went beyond the usual routine.
So we hopped in my truck with this shaking plan to escape the
city lights and find a hideaway under the sky.
The highway was empty and the further we drove, the more
isolated everything became. I remember rolling down the
windows at first relishing that cool Rush of air against my
face. She and I were talking about
anything and everything. How suffocating are we had been
how nice it was to have a real night off.
There was this spark of excitement, that only grew each
mile we put behind us. Like we were secretly running
from everyday life. But there was another feeling
creeping in, too. A sense that once we left the
main roads, there was no easy turning back eventually, we
spotted a dirt path off to the side.
No markers, no lights. Just a narrow Gap in the trees.
We exchange that quick giddy look that says, let's do it.
And I took the turn. my tires, crunched over gravel and dirt
and the deeper we went the more ominous, it felt The headlights
carved out in Eerie tunnel ahead of us.
The forest pressed in tight on either side, like it didn't want
us intruding. We finally reached the small
clearing, I pulled over cut the engine and in an instant we were
surrounded by Darkness. There was a moment when neither
of us, spoke just took in how quiet it was.
It's that kind of quiet that almost messes with your head.
You can hear your own breaths, your own heartbeat and it's
suddenly magnified a thousand times.
A part of me wanted to drive right back out.
But of course, I didn't say that.
We were here for a reason and neither of us planned on
chickening out. Climbing into the backseat felt
like stepping into a private world where we could forget
about all the Daily Grind. I could almost laugh now
thinking how nervous we were while also being so eager.
She teased me for fumbling with my coat and I joked back that
her shirt buttons, must have been made for Houdini just to
keep it light. For a few minutes.
We just forgot everything. All around us that night pressed
in but we were too focused on each other to dwell on it.
Then those headlights appeared at first, they were just a faint
glow bouncing through the trees distant enough that I couldn't
quite tell if it was headed toward us.
My entire Focus shifted. I remember sitting up trying to
peer out the back window while she scrambled to fix her shirt.
The lights kept growing brighter, cutting through the
night and I realized the vehicle was definitely on the same dirt
path. We were on.
An awful since of panics settled over me.
I had no clue who it could. Be cops may be an angry.
Local who'd caught us trespassing.
We started this frantic search for clothes that had practically
vanished in the dark. Shoes shirts.
Everything seemed to have found the worst possible hiding spots.
It was ridiculous and terrifying.
At the same time, my hands felt clumsy.
My brain shouting at me to hurry up before those headlights
rolled right into our clearing. By the time we managed to throw
on enough clothing to look halfway decent.
The lights were nearly upon us. I killed any idea of turning on
my own headlights or starting. The engine Instinct said, keep
quiet, keep still. Whoever it was they pulled into
the open space, Maybe 50 feet away, not quite facing us.
My trucks black paint worked like camouflage in the shadows.
I prayed that was enough. My eyes flicked over to her and
I could tell she was just as tense.
Her breath coming in, Shallow spurts.
I could sense. We were both thinking the same
thing, this was a mistake, we never should have come out here.
And that's where the night lurched from a fun little secret
to something. I still can't shake from my
thoughts. We waited hushed and rigid
watching those headlights burn through the darkness while time
seemed to stretch out painfully. I forced myself not to move, not
to even breathe, too, loudly. Completely unsure of what this
stranger would do if they realized we were there.
Suddenly, our romantic getaway felt like the worst decision we
could have made. And there was no telling what
would happen next? I stayed low in the backseat
barely daring to peek over the windows Edge, the headlights
illuminated, a jagged outline of Pine and brush just beyond the
clearing. The old truck parked about 50
feet away from us angling itself so that its own being swept
across the dirt, my ex was crouched beside me clutching at
my arm and I could practically taste her tension in the stale.
Cabin are in Eerie Stillness settled in as if the entire
Forest had paused to see what would happen next.
Then I saw him step out. He moved like he had all the
time in the world. Shutting his door with a thud.
My heart thudded in my ears. I couldn't tell if he'd spotted
us but he sure didn't act like it.
Instead he walked around to the bed of his truck and reached in
for something, when he emerged with a shovel, I felt my stomach
not up. So tight at hurt.
He eased himself down onto one knee to test the ground, the
dull scrap of metal meeting dirt louder than I would have
believed possible. Every scoop felt like a jolt to
my system. I wanted to whisper to my ex to
see if she was handling this any better than I was, but I kept my
mouth clamped shut. Every warning in my head was
telling me not to make a single sound.
He continued, digging systematically.
Carving out a hole. Dirt kept piling around him
creating a ring like Mound. I counted each thrust of the
shovel. One, two, three.
Like a twisted lullaby that refused to end.
There was something cold and mechanical about how he worked
no, hesitation or wasted movement as if he'd done.
This 100 times before. I silently hoped maybe he was
burying tools or some random junk, but my gut told me, we'd
stumbled onto something far worse. after what felt like an
eternity, The Stranger stopped The shovel clanged against
something in the ground. Wood metal.
I couldn't tell. A nasty grinding noise.
Made me grit my teeth. He dropped to his knees and
began prying at whatever was hidden underneath the surface.
My mind spiraled. Could it be a sealed?
Container a bag of Contraband or something?
That would keep me awake for months if I ever found out the
truth. He finally tore it free.
The shape was Heavy enough that he strained to lift it letting
out a ragged breath. I caught even through the
windows glass. He staggered toward his truck
bed. Hauling this ominous shape
along. When he hoisted it in the wait,
landed with a grotesque thump. My pulse pounded so fiercely.
I thought the vibrations alone would give us away.
Then came the moment, I'd feared he leaned in close rearranging
it as if to make sure it was Secure for the ride.
If he looked just a bit to his right, he might notice the
silhouette of my parked Truck Part of Me.
Braced for the shock of seeing him whirl around shovel in hand
but he never did. He tossed?
The shovel in next slammed the tailgate and slid back into the
driver's seat without glancing in our Direction.
The trucks engine grumbled for a tense moment.
It stayed there headlights, still glaring at the gaping hole
in the ground. I couldn't breathe.
I feared he might step out again, maybe to double check,
but then the truck lurched forward, backing up in a clumsy
Ark. Before it crept down the dirt
path. And away from our clearing.
I didn't move. I didn't speak.
She didn't either we sat motionless for at least a
handful of minutes. My eyes stayed locked on the
spot where he'd been digging. The newly.
Upturned soil, shining under the Moonlight.
I couldn't stop imagining 100 different nightmares.
He could have Unearthed The crunch of tires faded in the
distance and the forest returned to its usual nighttime, hush
like everything had snapped back into place.
When we finally found the courage to stir, I reached for
the key in the ignition, my Palms were slick with sweat and
that faint click of shifting into gear felt magnified a
thousand times. I ease the truck onto the path.
Terrified, our headlights would announce us to anyone waiting,
just around the bend, The thought of him doubling back or
having some accomplice lurked in the back of my head.
I kept checking the mirror convinced.
I'd see those same headlights Rush up behind us, but it was
just emptiness and trees. Once we hit the main road, the
tension inside the truck was suffocating.
We didn't speak for a while. We just let our breathing
steady, eventually. She asked if we should call the
cops, but the question kind of hung in the air.
What would we even say? We watched this guy dig up
something in the middle of nowhere.
That's not exactly a solid lead. And honestly, I was afraid of
inviting more questions than I had answers for the whole drive.
Back my mind replayed, the moment, he lifted that strange
object. I tried to rationalize that
maybe it was just Contraband but my gut wouldn't settle.
We'd Glimpse something Way Beyond ordinary.
By the time we got near civilization, the night sky had
shifted to a lighter shade threatening Dawn.
It felt like we'd been in another world entirely one where
each step you take could lead you into a place.
You never wanted to see Even now every bump in the road or stray
car in the distance makes me jumpy like a reminder of how
quickly a situation can turn. That guy might be miles away,
living his life without a second thought.
But for me, those 30 odd minutes in the dark changed, everything
about how I view a lonely patch of dirt in the woods because
sometimes you drive out searching for a bit of freedom
and instead, find a single moment that will never let you
go.