I knew taking the job near the Great Smoky Mountains was going
to be lonely, but I never imagined it would be this
silent. My first week out here at the
fire lookout tower was almost peaceful.
I woke up every morning to a crisp, cold sunrise, the trees
stretching endlessly into a green sea with nothing but the
occasional rustling of wind and the chirps of birds to keep me
company. The isolation was what I signed
up for. But the first few nights, that's
when it all started. The radio was an old relic,
static crackling out of it in the background whenever I had it
on. At first it was just that
harmless static, but after a few nights I started hearing
something underneath it, Faint whispers so soft I thought it
was just the wind. I ignored it.
I mean, it was probably just the equipment acting up, right?
This place wasn't exactly state-of-the-art.
But then the whispers started to change.
They didn't sound like static anymore.
It was like someone, no, like several people, were trying to
speak, their voices distant and weak.
I would sit up in bed, staring at the radio across the room,
trying to make sense of it. It would only happen late at
night, always when I was alone in the dark.
I told myself it was nothing, but the sound sent chills
creeping up my spine. A few nights later, the whispers
turned into cries, cries for help.
They were soft, almost pleading, like someone was lost and
desperate. And they were coming from places
far out in the forest, places I knew no one could be.
I checked the maps, tracing the calls back to dead end canyons
and abandoned trails. These were areas where no hiker
should be wandering, especially not at midnight.
I told myself it had to be some kind of prank, maybe someone
messing with the frequency. But deep down I knew it wasn't.
One night, as I was drifting off to sleep, the radio suddenly
crackled to life, louder than ever.
I heard a voice. My voice.
It was calling for help, desperate and terrified.
Help me, please, it said, and I swear my heart stopped.
It wasn't just similar to my voice, it was my voice.
I felt frozen. My eyes locked on the radio,
which crackled again before going silent.
Outside, the forest seemed to hold its breath.
The wind stopped and all the usual night noises fell away.
I was alone, and yet I wasn't. Something was out there.
I went to the window, staring out at the forest, bathed in
pale moonlight. At first, everything seemed
still. Then something moved, a shadow
shifting at the edge of the clearing.
My heart pounded as I strained to see a figure emerged from the
tree line, slowly making its way toward the base of the tower.
I blinked, trying to make sense of it, the way it moved.
It wasn't right. Its limbs jerked as if they
didn't quite fit together. And then I saw its face.
It was my face, twisted, hollow eyed with a grotesque, unnatural
smile. It stared up at me, and I swear
it knew I was watching. It started climbing the stairs,
each step echoing louder and louder.
My radio crackled again, the voice, my voice begging for
help. I felt a scream rise in my
throat, but no sound came out. My flashlight was in my hand
before I even realized it, the beam of light flickering as I
pointed it down the stairs. The figure didn't stop.
It kept coming, the smile never faltering.
Panic took over. I did the only thing I could
think of. I turned, ran to the opposite
side of the tower, and without thinking, I jumped.
The branches below caught me scratching, tearing as I tumbled
down the slope. I didn't care about the pain, I
just knew I had to get away. Whatever that thing was, it
wasn't me, and it wanted something I wasn't willing to
give. I don't know how I survived that
jump. I woke up at the bottom of the
hill, bruised and aching all over.
My head was pounding and my body felt like it had been dragged
through a thorn Bush. It was still dark, the only
light coming from the moon overhead, casting long shadows
through the trees. For a moment I thought maybe it
had all been a nightmare, but then I heard it.
The radio crackling from the tower, my own voice echoing out
into the night, still calling for help.
I knew I couldn't stay there. I forced myself to my feet, my
legs shaky beneath me. I had to get as far away from
that tower as possible. I started moving, half running,
half stumbling through the woods.
Every branch that snapped under my feet made me jump, my heart
pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
The forest felt different now. It wasn't just the quiet, it was
the way the shadows seemed to move, shifting just out of the
corner of my eye, like something was watching me.
I had no idea where I was going, I just knew I had to keep
moving. The ground was uneven, roots and
rocks tripping me up as I ran. My flashlight was barely
working, the beam flickering in and out, but I didn't dare stop
to fix it. I could still hear the radio,
faint now, but there, my own voice calling my name, pleading
for help. It made my skin crawl.
After what felt like hours, I stopped to catch my breath,
leaning against a tree. My lungs burned and my legs felt
like they could give out at any moment.
I listened, trying to hear anything over the sound of my
own breathing. The forest was silent, too
silent. And then, from somewhere in the
darkness, I heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate, getting
closer. My heart skipped a beat.
It was here, that thing, the one that looked like me.
I turned off my flashlight, hoping the darkness would hide
me. I pressed myself against the
tree, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
The footsteps were getting closer.
I could hear the crunch of leaves, the snap of twigs, each
step echoing in the stillness. My breath caught in my throat as
I saw it, a shadow moving through the trees, its head
turning slowly from side to side, like it was looking for
something, looking for me. I wanted to run, but my legs
wouldn't move. I was too scared.
I watched as the figure got closer, the moonlight catching
its face, my face. But its eyes were empty, like
black holes. And that smile, that horrible
twisted smile, was still there. It stopped, its head tilting
slightly, like it was listening. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying
it wouldn't find me. Then suddenly, it turned and
started walking away, back into the woods.
I waited, my whole body trembling, until I could no
longer hear its footsteps. I didn't know why it had left,
but I wasn't about to stick around to find out.
I forced myself to move, every muscle aching as I started
running again, deeper into the forest.
I didn't know where I was going, but anywhere was better than
here. The whispers started again,
faint at first, then growing louder.
They were all around me, echoing through the trees, my own voice
calling my name over and over. I covered my ears, trying to
block it out, but it was no use. It was like the forest itself
was speaking, trying to draw me in, trying to make me stop.
But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
I had to get away no matter what.
I didn't stop running until I saw the flicker of a campfire in
the distance. I stumbled toward it, my legs
barely holding me up. A group of hikers looked up as I
burst into their camp, their faces a mix of shock and
confusion. I must have looked like a
madman, covered in dirt and scratches, my eyes wild with
fear. I tried to explain, but the
words wouldn't come outright. They didn't need to understand.
They could see the terror in my eyes.
They let me stay by the fire, and for the first time that
night, I felt a small sense of safety.
Sitting by the campfire with the hikers felt like the first
breath of fresh air after being underwater too long.
The warmth of the flames chased away some of the chill that had
settled into my bones. The hikers asked questions.
Who was I, where did I come from?
But I could barely get the words out.
All I could do was mutter about the tower, about the voice that
wasn't mine. They exchanged uneasy glances,
but let me stay. It was enough for me to feel
just a little less alone. The fire light flickered,
casting long shadows around the clearing.
I tried to tell myself I was safe now, that whatever had been
following me couldn't come this far, but deep down I knew that
wasn't true. The forest felt alive, like it
was listening, watching, and the shadows beyond the fires glow
seemed to shift and move on their own.
I couldn't sleep, even though the other hikers eventually lay
down, exhausted. My body was sore and aching, but
my mind wouldn't let me rest. Every rustle of the leaves,
every crackle of the fire made me jump.
My eyes kept drifting to the edge of the clearing, expecting
to see that figure again, my face smiling that horrible
smile. I tried to keep my eyes on the
fire, tried to focus on the warmth, the light, but I could
feel the forest pressing in on me.
Then I heard it again, my voice, faint but clear, coming from
somewhere in the darkness. Help me, please.
My stomach twisted, and I felt all the warmth drain from my
body. It was the same words, the same
tone, like a broken record repeating over and over.
I turned, looking at the hikers, but they were all asleep,
oblivious. I was alone again with the
voice. I stood up, my heart pounding.
The voice was getting louder, echoing through the trees.
I could hear it from all directions, surrounding me, my
own voice pleading, desperate. I stumbled backward, almost
tripping over one of the sleeping hikers.
I wanted to wake them, to make them hear it too, but something
stopped me. A sense of dread, like if I
acknowledged it, if I said it out loud, it would make
everything worse. The voice grew louder still,
until it was almost deafening. I pressed my hands to my ears,
trying to block it out, but it was no use.
It was inside my head, rattling around like a trapped insect.
I backed away from the campfire, my eyes darting around the
clearing, searching for the source.
And then, at the edge of the firelight, I saw it.
The figure, my face twisted and wrong, staring at me from the
shadows. Its mouth moved, and the words
came out. My words.
Help me, please. It stepped closer, and I could
see the darkness in its eyes, empty and hollow.
The smile on its face widened, stretching too far, like it was
enjoying my fear. I wanted to scream, but my voice
caught in my throat. I turned and ran, sprinting past
the sleeping hikers, away from the campfire, deeper into the
forest. Branches whipped at my face, the
underbrush clawing at my legs, but I didn't stop.
I could hear it behind me, the footsteps, the voice still
calling my name, still pleading for help.
The forest closed in around me, the darkness swallowing me
whole. I ran until my legs gave out,
collapsing onto the forest floor, my chest heaving.
The whispers were all around me now, my own voice mixed with
others, a chorus of desperate pleas.
I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face, and
prayed for it to stop. Suddenly, there was a hand on my
shoulder. I gasped, jerking away, but it
was one of the hikers, his face filled with concern.
Hey, it's OK, He said, his voice breaking through the noise in my
head. You're safe now.
I looked around, realizing I was back at the camp.
The other hikers were awake, their faces worried, the fire
still crackling nearby. But as I looked past them, into
the dark forest, I knew it wasn't over.
The shadows were still there, shifting, waiting.
And somewhere out there, my own voice was still calling, still
begging for help. And I knew deep down that it
wouldn't stop until it got what it wanted.
We were supposed to be getting away from it all, you know, Just
two buddies, a weekend of hunting, no phones, no stress.
Reed had talked me into it, said it would be epic, and for some
reason, I believed him. I didn't think twice when he
said the Utah desert was the perfect spot.
Yeah, sure, I had heard some of the stories, but come on, It was
just a desert, right? Nothing out there but sand,
rocks and the occasional lizard. Or so I thought.
The drive out there had been pretty uneventful, just a lot of
Reed singing off key to his terrible playlist and me staring
out the window, watching the landscape go from civilization
to absolute nowhere. By the time we finally rolled up
to our campsite, the sun was already halfway down, casting
these weird long shadows across the sand.
Everything looked stretched out, almost like the desert itself
was yawning, ready to swallow us whole.
We started setting up camp. Reed was all jokes, laughing
about the so-called skinwalker that the gas station guy had
warned us about. I remember the guy's face all
serious, like he was trying to scare us off.
Reed just laughed it off. I don't know, it kind of stuck
in my head. I mean I didn't really believe
in desert monsters or anything, but the way the guy said it,
like he really meant it, gave me this weird feeling in my gut.
By the time the fire was going, it was dark.
Not just the sun's down dark, but pitch black, the kind where
you can't see anything beyond the circle of firelight.
The wind started picking up too, whistling through the rocks
around us, and it almost sounded like voices.
I tried to shake it off, but every now and then I'd catch a
whisper, just a flicker of sound that made the hairs on my neck
stand up. Reed kept talking, kept joking
about everything, but I could tell even he was feeling it.
He kept glancing around, his eyes darting to the shadows just
beyond the fire. And me, I felt like something
was out there, watching. It's hard to explain, but it was
this heaviness in the air, like the darkness wasn't just empty,
like it had weight and it was pressing in on us.
The temperature dropped fast. One minute we were fine, and the
next I was shivering, my breath puffing out in white clouds.
I pulled my jacket tighter, my eyes scanning the rocks again.
The shapes look different now, twisted and wrong, almost like
they were moving. I blinked, trying to clear my
head, but it didn't help. Everything felt wrong.
Reed finally went quiet, just poking at the fire, and that's
when I heard it. A rustling sound, too deliberate
to be the wind. My head snapped up and I saw
something, just for a second, a flash of movement low to the
ground. It was quick, gone before I
could even focus on it, but my heart started pounding.
I looked at Reed, but he just shrugged, muttering something
about Jack rabbits. I tried to believe him, but I
knew, I knew it wasn't a rabbit. The night stretched on, every
second feeling longer than the last.
The fire crackled and the wind whispered, and I couldn't shake
that feeling that we weren't alone out there, that something
was watching us from the dark, waiting.
And the worst part? I think Reed felt it too.
He just wouldn't say it. We were out there to get away
from it all, but all I wanted now was to get away from this
place, from whatever was hiding in the dark.
It must have been close to midnight when I heard it again,
that rustling noise, only this time it was louder.
I froze, my eyes straining to see beyond the flickering glow
of our campfire. Reed had dozed off, his head
resting awkwardly against his backpack, and for a second I
almost woke him up. But then I thought, what if it
was just some animal? No point in freaking read out if
it was nothing, right? I leaned forward, squinting into
the darkness. The wind had died down, leaving
the desert eerily quiet, and that's when I saw it.
A shadow low to the ground, moving between the rocks.
It was fast, almost too fast, and it was coming closer.
My heart started pounding, my stomach twisting into a tight
knot. I tried to tell myself it was
just a coyote or something, but deep down I knew better.
This felt wrong. Read.
I whispered, my voice barely audible.
I nudged him with my foot, my eyes never leaving the shadow.
He groaned, blinking up at me, clearly annoyed.
What? He muttered, rubbing his eyes.
SH. I hissed.
There's something out there. Reed sat up, squinting into the
darkness. You're kidding me, right?
He said, his voice dripping with skepticism.
But then he saw the look on my face, and his expression
changed. He turned his head slowly,
scanning the rocks around us. For a moment, there was nothing,
just the crackle of the fire and the cold night air.
And then we both saw it. A figure standing on the Crest
of a hill. My breath caught in my throat.
It was a person, or at least it looked like one, but there was
something off about it, the way it stood, almost too still, like
it was frozen. And then Reed gasped, his voice
cracking. That's, that's me.
He whispered. I stared at the figure, my mind
struggling to make sense of what I was seeing.
It was wearing Reed's jacket, had the same build, the same
stance. It was like looking at a
reflection, only it wasn't moving.
It just stood there, watching us.
My heart was hammering in my chest, my mouth dry.
I glanced at Reed, and the fear in his eyes mirrored my own.
We need to go. I said, my voice barely a
whisper. Reed nodded, his face pale.
We scrambled to our feet, grabbing whatever we could.
My hands were shaking so badly that I almost dropped my
flashlight. The figure on the hill didn't
move, but I could feel its eyes on us, watching, waiting.
As we started to back away, I heard something, a laugh.
It was soft at first, almost like the wind, but then it grew
louder, echoing across the desert.
My blood ran cold. It was Reed's laugh, but
twisted, mocking. I looked at Reed and he shook
his head, his eyes wide with fear.
That's not me, He whispered, his voice trembling.
Panic set in and we turned, running toward the truck.
The sand was loose beneath our feet, making every step feel
like a struggle. Behind us, the laughter grew
louder, followed by the sound of something moving, something
fast. I glanced over my shoulder, and
my heart nearly stopped. The figure was gone, but there
was something else now, A shape low to the ground, darting
between the rocks, its eyes glowing in the darkness.
Run, Reed shouted, and I didn't need to be told twice.
My lungs burned, my legs felt like they were made of lead.
But I kept running, the truck finally coming into view.
I could hear it behind us, that thing, its footsteps too quick,
too deliberate. The air was filled with that
horrible, twisted laughter echoing in my head.
We reached the truck and I fumble with the door, my fingers
numb from fear. Reed was already in the driver's
seat, and as soon as I got in, he started the engine.
The headlights flicked on, and for a split second I saw it.
A creature, half coyote, half something else.
Its body twisted, its eyes locked on mine.
And then Reed hit the gas and we were speeding away, the desert
blurring around us. The laughter faded into the
distance, but I knew it wasn't over.
Whatever that thing was, it was still out there, watching,
waiting, and as we drove, the only thing I could think was
that we should have listened to the warnings.
We never should have come to the Utah desert.
Reed kept the pedal floored and the truck bounced over the rough
desert terrain, each jolt making me clench my teeth.
I kept looking over my shoulder, half expecting to see that thing
right behind us. My heart was pounding so hard it
felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.
The headlights cut through the darkness, but the desert seemed
endless. It was like no matter how far we
drove, we weren't getting any closer to safety.
Are we even going the right way? I asked, my voice shaky.
Reed didn't answer. His eyes were glued to the road,
if you could even call it a road.
It was just sand, rocks, and the occasional scrubby Bush.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw
clenched. I could tell he was just as
scared as I was, maybe even more.
I don't know, he finally said, his voice barely audible.
I think so. The truck hit a particularly
deep dip, and I nearly smacked my head on the roof.
I groaned, clutching at the door handle to steady myself.
I glanced out the window, and for a second I thought I saw
something moving alongside us. My breath caught in my throat,
and I squinted, trying to make it out.
It was just shadows, I told myself.
Just the desert playing tricks on me.
But deep down I didn't believe it.
Reed must have seen it too, because he suddenly swerved, the
tires skidding on the loose sand.
Did you see that? He shouted, his voice cracking.
I didn't want to answer, I didn't want to admit that.
Yeah, I'd seen it. Something keeping pace with us,
something that shouldn't be able to move that fast.
The truck fishtailed, and for a second I thought we were going
to flip, but Reed managed to get it under control and we kept
going, the engine roaring as he pushed it as hard as it could
go. My hands were shaking, my
fingers numb as I gripped the dashboard.
The laughter had stopped, but the silence was almost worse.
It felt like the entire desert was holding its breath, waiting
for us to make a mistake. Suddenly, the truck's headlights
caught something ahead, a shape standing right in the middle of
our path. Reed cursed under his breath and
slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched, the trucks
skidding to a stop just a few feet from the figure.
My heart felt like it had stopped completely.
It was the same thing we'd seen before, a twisted version of
Reed, staring at us with those empty eyes.
What? What do we do?
I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
Reed didn't answer. He just stared at it, his face
pale, his eyes wide. The figure took a step toward
us, its movements jerky, unnatural.
My stomach turned, and I felt a wave of panic rising in my
chest. We had to get out of there.
We couldn't just sit here and wait for whatever that thing was
to reach us. Go.
I shouted, my voice cracking. Just drive.
Reed snapped out of it, his hands fumbling on the gear
shift. He hit the gas, and the truck
lurched forward, swerving around the figure.
I kept my eyes on it as we passed, and for just a moment I
swear it smiled at me, this horrible twisted grin that made
my skin crawl. Then it was gone, swallowed up
by the darkness, and we were speeding away again.
My hands were trembling, my heart racing.
I looked at Reed and he looked at me, and I could see the fear
in his eyes. We didn't say anything.
There was nothing to say. We just had to get out of there,
as far away from the Utah desert as we could.
We never went back to that spot again.
Be careful when you go into the Utah desert, you never know what
you might encounter. I swear everything was going
great until it wasn't. We were all having a blast,
Lily, Ethan, Noah, Hannah, Alex and me.
The sky was perfect, the Canyon was huge and beautiful, and it
felt like we were on top of the world.
We had our ropes, our gear and we were ready to take on
whatever nature threw at us. At first it was nothing but
laughter and jokes, like we were invincible.
We were rappelling down rocky ledges, our voices echoing back
at us and I remember thinking this is exactly what I needed, a
break from all the stress back home, just us and the wild.
Then it all changed. It happened so fast. 1 moment we
were climbing down and the next the ground started to shake.
It wasn't just a little tremor either.
It was like the whole world decided to have a meltdown.
I heard someone shout, and suddenly there were rocks
everywhere, crashing down like a nightmare.
Dust filled the air and I couldn't see anything.
I remember feeling my heart in my throat, my hands clawing at
the Canyon wall as I tried to find some kind of cover.
When the dust settled, we were all coughing, trying to figure
out what just happened. We looked back the way we came,
and it was like our exit had just vanished, buried under a
ton of rock. I felt this cold dread seep into
me, like ice spreading through my veins.
There was no way out, we were trapped.
Ethan, always the calm one, tried to reassure us, saying
we'd find another way, but I could see it in his eyes.
He was just as scared as the rest of us.
We decided to set up camp since the sun was already starting to
dip below the Canyon walls. It got dark fast, way faster
than I expected. The shadows stretched out, and I
swear they felt like they were creeping closer, like they had a
mind of their own. We made a fire, trying to keep
the darkness at Bay, but it didn't help much.
It only made the shadows dance, flickering along the Canyon
walls, making everything look even more eerie.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, feeling like someone
or something was watching us from the dark.
Ethan said he was going to scout ahead, see if he could find
another way out. I didn't like the idea of him
going alone, but he was always the brave one, the one who knew
what to do. So we let him go, and the rest
of us just waited. The quiet was the worst part.
It wasn't just quiet, it was dead silent, like the whole
Canyon was holding its breath. I hugged my sleeping bag closer,
trying not to think about what could be out there.
Every little sound made me jump. The wind, the crackle of the
fire, even my own breathing. And then we heard it.
A voice calling our names. At first I thought it was Ethan,
that he was coming back, but something about it wasn't right.
It echoed weirdly, like it was bouncing around too much,
stretching in ways it shouldn't. It made my skin crawl, and I
could see Hannah's eyes go wide, like she felt it too.
We all stared into the darkness, straining to see something,
anything. Then Ethan came back.
Or at least it looked like Ethan.
But the moment I saw him, I knew something was off.
He moved weird, like his joints were stiff, and his eyes, they
looked empty, like he wasn't really seeing us.
He said he'd found a way out, but his voice was all wrong.
Flat, emotionless. It didn't sound like Ethan at
all. I felt my stomach drop, fear
clawing its way up my throat. I wanted to scream, to tell the
others that this wasn't Ethan, that we needed to run, but I
couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe.
Hannah grabbed my hand, her fingers digging into my skin.
I think she knew too. We just stood there, staring at
him, at it. The fire crackled between US,
and for a second I thought I saw something underneath Ethan's
skin, something dark and shifting like it was trying to
break free. I felt my heart pounding, and I
knew without a doubt that whatever this thing was, it
wasn't our friend. It was something else, something
that wanted us to follow it, and I knew if we did, we'd never
make it out of that Canyon. We just stood there, staring at
whatever had come back in Ethan's place.
My mind was racing, and I could feel my knees trembling.
I mean, it looked like Ethan, sort of, but the more I looked,
the more I realized it was all wrong.
His smile was too wide, his eyes were too dull, and he just stood
there like he was waiting for us to make a move.
I couldn't help but think, this isn't real, this isn't
happening, but it was, and it was terrifying.
Noah spoke up first, his voice shaky.
Ah, Ethan, you OK man? He took a step forward, but I
grabbed his arm before he could get too close.
I didn't want any of us getting near whatever that was the thing
pretending to be. Ethan turned its head toward
Noah, but it was such a jerky movement, like it wasn't used to
having a neck. It said something about finding
a way out, but the words felt empty, like they were just
noises it had learned to repeat. Hannah squeezed my hand again,
and I could tell she was just as freaked out as I was.
I wanted to tell her everything was going to be OK, but I didn't
believe it myself. My mouth was so dry I could
barely swallow. I glanced at Alex, who looked
like he was about to bolt at any second, his eyes wide and
darting between the thing and the darkness behind us.
I think we all knew we needed to do something, but none of us had
a clue what. Running seemed like a bad idea,
but staying put wasn't much better.
The fire crackled and the thing took a step closer.
It was like it was testing us, seeing how we'd react.
My whole body tensed up and I could feel my pulse pounding in
my ears. Noah took a step back and I
could see the fear in his eyes. I think we all realized right
then that this thing wasn't going to leave us alone.
It wanted something, and it wasn't just trying to help us
find a way out. We need to move.
I whispered, barely loud enough for Hannah and Alex to hear.
I wasn't even sure where we were supposed to go, but I knew we
couldn't just stand there waiting for whatever this was to
make the next move. Hannah nodded, her eyes wide,
and Alex swallowed hard, glancing around like he was
trying to figure out an escape route.
Noah turned back to us, and I could see the panic starting to
take over. What do we do?
He mouthed, his face pale. I didn't have an answer, but I
remembered that narrow crevice we'd passed earlier, the one
that looked like it barely had enough room for us to squeeze
through. It wasn't much, but it was
something. I leaned in close to the others,
keeping my eyes on the thing that looked like Ethan.
The crevice? I whispered.
We need to get to the crevice. Hannah's eyes widened even more,
but she nodded. I could feel her trembling next
to me, and I knew she was just as scared as I was.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
We had to do this. We had to move, and we had to do
it now. I gave Alex a nudge and he
nodded, his face set in determination, even though I
could see the fear there too. Noah started inching back toward
us, and that's when the thing moved again.
It was like it suddenly realized we were trying to leave.
It lunged forward, its limbs jerking awkwardly, and that was
it. My heart leapt into my throat
and I turned, pulling Hannah with me.
Run. I shouted, my voice cracking
with panic. We sprinted toward the crevice,
our feet pounding against the rocky ground.
I could hear the thing behind us, its movements weird and
unnatural, like it was trying to remember how to be human.
The shadows seemed to close in, and my chest felt tight, like I
couldn't get enough air. I reached the crevice first,
throwing myself into the narrow gap.
The stone scraped against my skin, but I didn't care.
I just needed to get away. Hannah was right behind me, then
Noah. Then Alex.
I could hear the thing, whatever it was, making this awful
guttural noise like it was frustrated.
I didn't dare look back. I just kept pushing forward,
squeezing through the narrow space, my heart pounding so hard
I thought it might burst. All I could think was that we
had to make it. We had to get out of this Canyon
before it caught us. We finally made it through the
crevice, but it didn't feel like much of A victory.
My hands were scraped raw and I could barely catch my breath.
I collapsed against the Canyon wall, trying to pull myself
together. The other squeezed out one by
one, each of them looking just as shaken as I felt.
The air felt thick, like it was pressing down on us, making it
impossible to think straight. I could still hear that awful
noise behind us, echoing off the rocks.
Is everyone OK? I asked, my voice shaky.
It was a stupid question. We were obviously not OK, but I
had to say something. I needed to know we were all
still here. Hannah nodded, her face pale,
and Noah gave me a thumbs up, though he looked like he was
about to collapse. Alex just stared at the crevice,
his eyes wide and unfocused, like he was expecting that thing
to come crawling through any second.
We can't stay here. Noah said, his voice barely more
than a whisper. He was right.
We needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as we could
between US and whatever was chasing us.
But where were we even supposed to go?
The Canyon walls were towering above us, and everything looked
the same in the dim light. For a second, I felt completely
hopeless, like we were just running in circles, waiting for
that thing to catch up. But then Hannah pointed up, her
voice trembling as she spoke. Look, there's a way up there.
She was right. There was a narrow path leading
upward, barely visible in the first light of dawn.
It wasn't much, but it was something, and right now, any
direction that took us away from here was good enough for me.
We started climbing, our bodies aching with every step.
The path was steep and uneven, and I kept slipping, my legs
barely able to keep up. My heart was still racing and
every time I heard a noise, every scrape of a rock, every
rustle of wind, I was convinced it was that thing coming for us.
I kept glancing back, expecting to see it dragging itself up the
path, that twisted, horrible smile still on its face.
Just keep going, I kept telling myself, over and over like a
mantra. I looked over at Hannah and she
was struggling too, her face twisted in pain, but she kept
moving 1 foot in front of the other, even when it looked like
she was about to give up. We all did.
We had to. It was the only thing keeping me
from falling apart, that if we just kept moving, maybe we'd
finally be safe. After what felt like hours, we
finally reached the top. I pulled myself over the edge,
collapsing onto the ground, my whole body trembling.
The sun was starting to rise, painting the Canyon in this soft
golden light. For a moment, it almost looked
peaceful, like none of the nightmare we just lived through
had actually happened. But then I glanced back down,
and my stomach twisted. There, at the entrance of the
crevice, was the thing. It was just standing there,
staring up at us, its face no longer even trying to look like
Ethan. It was twisted, dark and
shifting like something out of a nightmare.
Its hollow eyes locked onto mine, and I felt this chill run
through me, like it was promising that this wasn't over,
Not yet. I turned away, pulling myself to
my feet. We need to keep moving.
I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
The others nodded, and we started walking, leaving the
Canyon behind us, the sun slowly rising higher in the sky.
I tried to tell myself we were safe now, that we had made it,
but deep down I knew that thing was still out there, waiting,
watching. And somehow I knew it wasn't
done with us yet. I wish I could say that Jesse
and I weren't warned, but we totally were.
The locals, every single one of them, gave us those looks.
You know the kind, The ones that say you're making a big mistake.
The old guy at the gas station even mumbled something about
strange things and disappearances out there.
Jesse just rolled her eyes, and honestly, I probably laughed it
off too. I mean, we're experienced
backpackers. We've done this kind of thing a
million times. We weren't about to let some
spooky campfire tales ruin our adventure.
So there we were, trudging deeper and deeper into the
woods, packs digging into our shoulders, the trees closing in
around us like they were part of some giant ancient wall.
The deeper we went, the more the air changed.
It felt heavy, like there was something unseen just hanging in
it. I tried to shake the feeling,
told myself I was imagining things, but there was no denying
it. The deeper we went, the quieter
everything got. No birds, no wind, not even the
rustle of leaves. Just the crunch of our boots and
the heavy breathing we tried to pretend wasn't from nerves.
By the time we found the clearing, the sun was setting,
casting this kind of weird orange glow through the
branches. It was perfect though, moonlight
already starting to spill into the open space, a spot just big
enough for our little campfire. We set up, got the fire going,
and before long we were laughing again, trying to shrug off the
weird vibes from earlier. Jesse cracked open some trail
mix and we joked about the creepy stuff we'd heard,
pretending like none of it was getting under our skin, but
honestly, there was this tight knot in my chest that just
wouldn't go away. I don't know when it started,
but at some point the fire just felt like it wasn't enough.
The light didn't seem to reach as far as it should have.
Everything beyond that circle of flickering orange was pitch
black, like the darkness was swallowing it whole.
Jesse was in the middle of telling some story about a
friend's terrible hiking date. When I saw it, at first I
thought it was just a shadow, but it wasn't.
There was someone, something, standing right at the edge of
the clearing. My heart skipped a beat and I
swear my stomach dropped to my feet.
I couldn't see much, just a figure half hidden in the
darkness, but it was staring right at us.
I blinked and for a second I thought maybe I was just seeing
things, But when Jesse noticed my sudden silence, she turned
and her laughter stopped cold. There, standing at the tree
line, was Jesse. Or, well, something that looked
like Jesse. Same red beanie, same torn knee
in her jeans, but its posture was all wrong.
Too stiff, too posed, like it was trying to figure out how to
be human. And the way its eyes caught the
light from the fire. It wasn't right.
There was something hollow about them, something that made my
skin crawl. Then it spoke, or tried to.
It was Jesse's voice, but not like it had been recorded on an
old tape that was played back just a little too slow.
Alex, come here, it said, dragging out the words,
stretching them in this awful, unnatural way.
I didn't breathe. I couldn't.
Jesse. The real Jesse grabbed my arm,
her fingers digging in. Her whisper was frantic,
terrified. That's not me, Alex.
We need to go now. And that's when the figure took
a step forward, its face shifting like the skin didn't
fit, like it was wearing her face, but it wasn't quite right.
My whole body went cold. Everything after that was a
blur, just pure instinct. We were on our feet, running the
fire, our gear, everything left behind.
I didn't even look back. I could hear it, though, hear it
moving, the way it crashed through the underbrush like it
couldn't decide if it was human or something else.
And the worst part? It kept calling my name,
switching between Jesse's voice and something guttural,
something that sounded like a snarl mixed with a plea.
I didn't know if we'd make it out.
All I knew was that we had to keep running, keep moving,
because whatever that thing was, it wasn't going to stop.
Running through the woods at night is probably one of the
worst ideas ever. Every branch seemed to reach out
to grab me, and the ground was a mess of roots just waiting to
trip me up. Jesse was just ahead of me, her
red beanie bobbing up and down like some kind of desperate
beacon in the dark. I kept my eyes glued to it,
terrified of losing her, of being alone out here with
whatever that thing was. Behind us.
My lungs were on fire. I could hear my own breath,
ragged and shallow, and above that, the sound of something
else crashing through the underbrush.
It wasn't just following us, it was chasing us.
And it was fast, Too fast. Every time I dared a glance over
my shoulder, I swore I could see it, just for a split second.
Its limbs bending in ways they shouldn't.
Its face, Jesse's face, twisting like it was trying to remember
how to be human. And those eyes, dark, empty pits
that seemed to swallow the light.
Alex, come on. Jesse shouted, her voice
breaking through my panic. She was already at the top of a
small hill, waving her arm for me to hurry.
I stumbled, my feet catching on a root, and I nearly went down.
My knees hit the dirt, and for a terrifying moment I thought that
was it, I was done. But then Jesse was there,
grabbing my arm, pulling me up, her eyes wide and wild.
We have to keep moving. I nodded, my throat too tight to
speak, and we took off again. The thing behind us let out this
awful noise, half scream, half growl that made my skin crawl.
It was like it was angry, frustrated that we weren't
slowing down, that we weren't giving up.
The sound echoed through the trees, bouncing off the trunks,
making it impossible to tell exactly where it was coming
from. It felt like it was everywhere.
We crashed through the woods, not caring about direction, just
trying to get away. My legs were shaking, every
muscle screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't.
I wouldn't. Jesse was right beside me, her
face set in this determined grimace, and I knew she was
feeling the same fear I was. The kind that digs deep, that
makes you feel like a cornered animal.
We had to keep going. We had to find a way out.
Suddenly, Jesse grabbed my arm again, yanking me to the side.
I almost protested, but then I saw it.
A faint break in the trees, a path, or maybe an old road.
We stumbled onto it, our feet slipping on the loose gravel,
and for a moment I felt a flicker of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, we could get out of this.
Maybe there was a way to escape. But then I heard it again, the
voice, my name, twisted and broken, echoing through the
darkness. Alex, come here.
It was closer now, too close, and I felt the panic rise again,
a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.
Jesse looked at me, her eyes wide, and I could see the fear
there, the same fear I felt. We weren't safe yet, not even
close. I don't know how long we kept
running. Time felt like it had completely
warped. Minutes stretched into hours, or
maybe it was the other way around.
All I knew was that my legs were about to give out, and Jesse's
face was pale, a mix of exhaustion and raw terror.
We stumbled along the old road, our feet slipping on the loose
gravel. It wasn't much, but at least it
was a path, something that led somewhere other than deeper into
the darkness. We heard it again, that awful
voice. This time it was closer, so
close it felt like it was breathing down my neck.
Alex, Jesse, it called, the words dragging out in that
strange, broken way. My heart pounded, and I could
feel the sweat soaking through my shirt.
I tried to focus on moving, just one step in front of the other,
but every rustle, every sound in the woods made me jump.
Then, just when I thought I couldn't go any farther, we saw
it. Headlights.
A flicker of light through the trees, the rumble of an engine
growing louder. I grabbed Jesse's arm,
practically dragging her as we stumbled towards the light.
A truck, an old pickup, was coming down the road.
I waved my arms, shouting, my voice cracking from the strain.
Hey, stop, please. The truck skidded to a stop,
gravel spraying as it did. The driver, a man with grizzled
hair and a face lined with worry, leaned out the window.
He took one look at us, his eyes widening, and then jerked his
thumb towards the back. Get in, he yelled, no questions
asked. We didn't need to be told twice.
We scrambled into the back, collapsing against the metal,
barely able to catch our breath. Jesse clung to me, her whole
body shaking. The truck lurched forward, the
engine roaring as it speed down the road.
I dare to glance back, my eyes scanning the dark edge of the
woods. And that's when I saw it.
It was standing there, right at the edge of the trees.
It looked like Jesse again, but its face was wrong, like a mask
that didn't quite fit. And its eyes, those empty dark
pits, locked onto mine. It smiled then, this twisted,
awful smile, and I swear I heard it whisper my name one last
time. The sound carried over the roar
of the truck's engine, and I felt a shiver run through me all
the way to my bones. Jesse buried her face against my
shoulder, her voice a shaky whisper.
We made it. We're safe.
But even as she said it, I couldn't shake the feeling that
we weren't, not really. The driver didn't say a word,
his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his hands tight on the
wheel. He knew, just like the locals
had known, some places weren't meant for people, and some
things weren't meant to be seen. As the truck speed away, the
forest grew smaller behind us, but I knew that it wasn't over.
The thing in the woods, the thing that wore Jesse's face was
still out there. And somehow I had this awful
feeling that it wasn't done with us yet.
I'll be honest, I was more excited about this camping trip
than anyone else. Tom had practically begged for a
break from work, Lucy needed time away from her constant doom
scrolling, and Brandon, well, he didn't exactly leap at the idea
of leaving his video games behind.
But me, I thought it'd be a chance for us to reconnect.
You know, something about being away from the noise of city life
and sitting by a campfire sounded like it might heal all
the little fractures that had formed between us.
So we packed the car to the brim and set off into the Idaho
wilderness, ready for our little adventure.
The campsite was perfect. Too perfect, really, the kind of
spot you'd see in a glossy camping brochure, tall Pines
framing a serene lake, the water still enough to be a mirror.
I remember thinking, almost joking to myself, that it was so
pretty, it had to be haunted. I should have trusted my gut.
We set up camp and everyone settled in surprisingly well.
Brandon and Lucy were even getting along for once, helping
Tom with the tent while I gathered firewood.
We roasted marshmallows and laughed about how none of us
knew what we were doing. For a while I let myself believe
this trip might actually work, like maybe the cracks in our
family weren't as deep as I thought.
But then we heard it. The rustling.
Tom laughed it off. Probably just a deer, he always
knew how to brush things off like they were nothing.
But Lucy wasn't buying it. She kept staring at the tree
line, her face all scrunched up like she was trying to make
sense of what she saw. Mom, I swear I saw something
move. She whispered to me, her eyes
wide. I tried to calm her down, even
though a chill had already started crawling up my own
spine. It's funny, I told myself.
That feeling was just my imagination.
A deer, a raccoon, something normal.
But there was this stillness that fell over the camp as the
sun dipped below the horizon. Even the wind seemed to stop.
The laughter died down, and in its place, this uneasy silence
settled over us. I found myself glancing over my
shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever Lucy thought
she saw, but it was all just shadows shifting between the
trees. That night we all crammed into
the tent, zipped up tight like that thin fabric was some sort
of magic barrier against whatever was out there.
It was supposed to be comforting, being all together,
safe in our little nylon bubble, but I couldn't sleep.
Every time I started to drift off, there'd be a snap of a twig
or a rustle of leaves and my eyes would shoot open, my heart
pounding in my ears. Tom snored next to me,
blissfully unaware, and I envied him, I really did.
Lucy was curled up, her face buried in her sleeping bag, and
Brandon had his headphones in like he thought he could just
tune out the entire forest. Me.
I lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling of the tent,
listening. It felt like hours, just me and
the noises outside, each one worse than the last.
And then there it was again, rustling closer this time.
I held my breath, straining to hear my stomach tightening with
dread. Something was out there, I knew
it. I could feel it watching us, its
eyes fixed on our tent, just waiting for the right moment to
no. I had to stop thinking like
that. I closed my eyes, trying to
convince myself it was all in my head, but deep down I knew
better. There was something in those
woods, something that wasn't just a deer.
And whatever it was, it wasn't going anywhere.
The next morning, I tried to shake off the unease.
It was daylight, after all. Things always look less
terrifying when the sun's out. I kept telling myself that
anyway. Tom, of course, was acting like
nothing had happened. He was already up brewing coffee
over the campfire, like we hadn't spent half the night
listening to something circling our tent.
Sleep OK? He asked, and I gave him a look
that said you've got to be kidding me, but I just smiled
because why worry everyone more than they already were?
After breakfast, Tom suggested we take a hike.
I wasn't so sure about that. Something about leaving the
campsite made me uneasy, like we'd be giving up the one place
we had any semblance of control. But Lucy and Brandon seemed
excited, and I didn't want to be the one to spoil things.
So we set off, following a narrow trail that snaked deeper
into the forest. At first, it was almost fun.
Brandon was making dumb jokes, poking at Lucy until she shoved
him, and Tom was pointing out different kinds of trees, like
he actually knew what he was talking about.
I tried to relax, to let myself just enjoy being with them, but
the further we walked, the quieter it got.
The birds that had been chirping earlier gone, even the breeze
seemed to vanish, and that thick, unnatural silence from
the night before crept back in. We were about an hour in when we
saw it, just standing there in the clearing ahead.
A deer oar. At least it looked like a deer
at first. Its legs were too long and it
was standing strangely, almost like it was trying to mimic how
a person would stand. Tom stopped, his smile fading.
That's weird. He muttered, and I could hear
the unease in his voice. Lucy grabbed my arm, her fingers
digging into my skin. Mom, that's it.
That's what I saw last night. I tried to tell her it was just
a deer, but the words caught in my throat.
The thing turned its head toward us, and I swear its eyes were
wrong. Too big, too human.
Tom took a step back, pulling Brandon with him.
We should go. He said, his voice low.
He didn't need to tell me twice. We turned, trying to move as
calmly as we could, but I could feel it watching us.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and every instinct
in me screamed to run, but I didn't want to set it off,
whatever it was. We walked faster and faster
until we were almost jogging, and that's when we heard it.
A screech, high pitched and unnatural, echoing through the
trees. Run.
Tom shouted, And we did. We ran, crashing through the
underbrush, branches whipping at our faces.
I grabbed Lucy's hand, pulling her along, and I could hear
Brandon behind me, panting, his footsteps frantic.
The forest seemed to close in on us, the trees blurring together
as we stumbled back toward camp. And all the while I could hear
it behind us, that awful screeching, getting closer and
closer. By the time we burst back into
the campsite, my chest was burning, my legs shaking.
Tom was already at the tent, grabbing whatever he could, his
face pale. Get in the car.
He yelled, and I didn't argue. We piled in, and Tom fumble with
the keys, his hands trembling. I looked out the window, back at
the tree line, and there it was, standing just at the edge,
watching us. Its skin seemed to ripple, like
it was barely holding itself together.
The car roared to life and Tom floored it, the tires kicking up
dirt as we speed down the narrow Rd.
I didn't look back. I couldn't.
All I could do was hold Lucy close, her sobs muffled against
my shoulder, and pray that whatever that thing was, it
wasn't following us. And as we drove, that silence
returned, the kind that filled your ears and settled deep in
your bones. The kind that told you this
wasn't over, not by a long shot. The ride to the Ranger station
was a blur. Tom drove like a man possessed,
his knuckles white on the steering wheel, and I just kept
glancing back, expecting to see that thing bounding out of the
woods, twisted limbs and all. Lucy had stopped crying, her
face pressed against my chest, and Brandon was staring straight
ahead, his eyes wide and unblinking.
No one spoke. What was there to say?
We all knew what we saw, and none of us knew if we were safe
yet. When we finally reached the
Ranger station, Tom almost crashed into the front gate.
He slammed on the brakes and we all just sat there for a second,
the silence hanging heavy in the car.
Out. He finally said, his voice
hoarse, and we scrambled out, rushing toward the small wooden
building like it was some kind of sanctuary.
The Ranger on duty was a young guy, maybe in his late 20s, with
a bored expression and a coffee cup in his hand.
He looked up as we burst through the door, his eyes widening at
the sight of us. Disheveled, terrified, probably
looking half crazed. Whoa, whoa, what's going on?
He asked, putting down his coffee.
Tom tried to explain, but the words came out in a jumble.
Deer, not a deer. Something wrong in the woods.
It chased us. The ranger's skeptical look
didn't help my already frayed nerves.
Ma'am, are you saying you saw a deer?
He asked, and I could hear the disbelief in his voice.
I wanted to scream, I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and
shake him until he understood, but instead I just nodded, my
hands trembling. It wasn't a deer.
I whispered. It had human eyes.
The ranger's expression changed then, just for a second, his
eyes flickered with something. Recognition, maybe.
Fear. He cleared his throat and stood
up, motioning for us to sit down.
All right, just stay here, I'm going to make a call.
He said, his voice suddenly a lot less casual.
He walked into the back room and I heard him speaking in hushed
tones, his words too muffled to make out.
Tom slumped into a chair, his head in his hands, and Brandon
finally seemed to snap out of his days.
Mom, what was that? He asked, his voice barely a
whisper. I didn't know what to tell him.
How could I explain something I didn't understand myself?
I don't know, sweetheart. I said, pulling him close.
But we're safe now. We're safe.
I wasn't sure if I believed it. The Ranger came back, his face
pale, and he avoided looking directly at us.
I've got someone coming. He said, his voice tight.
Just sit tight, OK? Don't go anywhere.
That was the moment I knew, deep down, that whatever we'd seen,
it wasn't something new. It wasn't something unheard of.
And that scared me more than anything else.
Because if the Rangers knew about it, if they had a plan for
this kind of thing, it meant it had happened before, and it
meant it could happen again. We spent the rest of the night
at a small motel, the four of us crammed into a single room.
No one slept. We kept the lights on, the
curtains drawn tight, and every so often I'd peek out, half
expecting to see those eyes staring back at me through the
window. Tom sat by the door.
A chair wedged under the handle like that would be enough to
keep whatever it was out. By morning we were gone, packed
up, checked out, and on the road before the sun was fully up.
None of us spoke as we drove away from Idaho, the forest
fading into the distance behind us.
But I knew we'd never really leave it behind.
Not the memory of it, Not the feeling of those eyes watching
us, the kind of feeling that sinks into your bones and stays
there no matter how far you run. And as we crossed the state
line, I found myself glancing back one last time, the trees
blurring together in the rearview mirror.
I knew we would never would return to those woods.
Be careful out there.