Kira pulled into the parking lot of the campground and was
surprised to see that it was nearly full F1 fifties with boat
trailers and obnoxious RV's filled multiple spots,
completely disregarding other campers.
She sighed. The one weekend I get off and
everyone decides to go camping here.
She whispered to herself. She drove by the packed rose,
frustrated and nearly ready to leave.
But as luck would have it, a small single spot revealed
itself to her. She waited, ever so briefly to
weigh her options. I should just go back home.
I don't even like camping, she told herself.
However, a car behind her honked, interrupting her moment
of reflection, and she pulled into the spot.
She got out of the car, grabbed her large backpack, and went to
the mouth of the trail. The nearby lake was slightly
less crowded, but people lined most of the nearby Lakeshore,
and a few dozen watercrafts were out enjoying their day.
Oh, how Kira wished she could be out there with friends, basking
in the sun, in cool water, enjoying her time, perhaps
drinking and gossiping about work or boys.
But that wasn't the case for her.
She had lived mostly a sheltered life, never taking risks, never
acting on desires outside of her control.
She was a loner, but not by choice.
Her anxiety and depression had a firm grip on her, one that she
felt she would never be released from.
She proceeded to the trail and glanced to both sides.
Colorful tents and camping chairs lined fire pits and the
woods were bright and full of people playing various yard
games. Each campsite seemed full.
She continued her way down to the end of the trail, where
thick woods seem to provide a barrier from the joyful
campsites in the bleak woods beyond.
She glanced back one last time, and much like her life, there
was no room for her here amongst the happy people.
She wanted to cut her losses and head back home, but remembered
that her therapist had promised that if she did something
outside of her comfort zone, she'd begin to grow.
She pressed forward through the woods, still able to hear the
commotion of the other campers near the trail.
Ahead of her was a similar view of land, but much more cleared
out. Although talking to normal
people in everyday situations was really hard for her, she
loved the lonesomeness that the woods provided.
Night time especially the darkness seemed to call to her.
She secretly longed for it, the blackness of the void to cover
her and erase her from this painful world.
The worn trail seemed to be less maintained the further she went
into the woods. The twists and turns made it
feel like this path went on forever instead of just camping
off the trail. An idea had crept into her mind.
What lies beyond, she thought. Just further down into the
woods. Perhaps there was the perfect
spot for seclusion, a nice dark little nook just for her.
What she lacked in social ability, she made-up for in
curiosity. Maybe just out of earshot of the
other campers, she thought as she hiked into the darker
recesses of the woods. The untouched portion of the
woods was less appealing to the eye, but much more gratifying.
Over all, this was real nature. Not the ideal construct of what
people tend to make it out to be, but the real unfiltered
nature that she's so desperately needed.
Time didn't seem to affect her as she eventually found herself
a good ways in beyond the sight or sound of anyone else.
She began to set up her one main tent by clearing the litter of
leaves out of the area. The uneven ground proved
difficult, but once the tent was fully erect, it didn't seem to
matter. Once the site was fully set up,
she realized that there was much more daylight left than she had
anticipated. Simply sitting in her tent
didn't appeal to her. The idea of walking back over to
the overpopulated campsites to try to make friends seem
troublesome, but taking a reflective hike deeper into the
woods was far more appealing. She set her stuff down and
didn't bother taking her phone. She only brought her half full
hydro flask and a small jacket just on the off chance that the
weather decided to take a turn for the worse.
She made sure to keep a mental note of where she was going so
as not to get lost in the unfamiliar woods alone, but she
wasn't terribly worried. Despite her being tucked away in
the portion of unmarked woods, she quickly found an old trail
that led deeper into the forest. The path was unkempt, almost
unrecognizable had she not been looking for it.
But now that she was on it, it was almost impossible to miss.
She placed a single earbud in and played an audio book while
also keeping an ear out for nature.
Normally, she would indulge herself with an additional
substance like shrooms or THC, but seeing how she was alone in
an unfamiliar forest, she decided to hold off until after
her hike. About an hour into the hike, she
began to realize that the atmosphere she had seen earlier
was nearly the opposite. The lively chatter of nearby
campers was replaced by an unsettling silence.
Birds and small insects had ceased their noise, the overall
vibe matching that of a cemetery.
However, this was exactly the kind of piece she was looking
for, but not to this degree. Silence was always welcome to
her, but this was something else.
She looked around and removed her earbud to better ground
herself in where she was. Trees surrounded the trail, but
up ahead, a couple of 100 yards or so, a small clearing
indicated something of value might be there.
The walk to the clearing was much different than the entirety
of the hike. Fear, perhaps, of stumbling upon
someone's remote cabin crept into the back of her mind.
She had heard her fair share of horror stories of hermits
occupying remote cabins to make drugs or perform ungodly acts
away from society. However, this all dissipated
almost instantly once she reached the mouth of the
clearing. Sitting in the open field,
perhaps 100 feet in the air or so, was a gargantuan structure.
The metal frame and its supports were old and rusted, but still
seem to support the small viewing station sitting on top.
Kira racked her brain for a few moments, but quickly realized
that this was a fire tower. There were no signs posted at
the base of the stairs and no indicators of restricted access.
She quickly walked over and examined the stairs up.
She listened briefly, but the overwhelming silence persisted.
The option to turn back at this point was going to have to wait.
Kira had been able to follow the old trail to a hidden treasure
tucked away in the woods all for herself to examine.
She began up the stairs, excited to see what wonders she would be
able to see from the new perspective she had found.
An unobscured view of the lake was most likely an option.
Her excitement was beginning to cloud her judgement.
She speedily ascended the stairs, not worrying about the
potential dangers of going inside an old structure.
The tower creaked slowly as its frame moved slightly in the
wind. Her footsteps sounded up the
tower, filling the silence of the forest nearby with
excitement. Unaware of her pace, she ended
up stopping about 3/4 of the way to catch her breath.
Her legs began to burn slightly as the hour hike plus the
rigorous stairs began to take their toll.
Looking out from the staircase, she could already see above the
tree line. Far stretches of green met her
gaze as she drank in all that nature had to offer.
She prepped herself for the last few flights before reaching the
top. Her hike was going to be much
slower, but she didn't mind. Before she started up the stairs
again, the excitement of the fire tower was beginning to
diminish. She was now more aware.
She bent down to tighten both shoes and noticed that the
stairs mixed with their rust also had dried stains.
Surely this could have been mud or tracks of other people, but
the thought crept into her mind once the realization hit.
She listened, not just for the enjoyment of nature, but to try
to see if there was something else nearby.
Again, the silence was far too heavy, but now she was actively
conscious of it. She continued, but much slower
this time. For some bizarre reason, her
anxiety, the one thing she was trying to escape from, had
returned. Her brain was on high alert,
telling her that something was wrong, but it had yet to provide
any reason or proof to convince her to decline the view from the
top. Her mind would soon be
validated. As the pressing silence she
endured for the last 20 minutes or so began to leave, a
mysterious sound began to emanate from above, a soft and
rhythmic humming seeming to come from the tower.
Her mind was still aware, but the sound was so bizarre that
curiosity replaced her anxiety. At first, the sound gave her the
brief impression that it could have been the hooting of an owl,
but that theory was quickly thrown out the closer she
reached the top. The low humming began to reveal
itself as the melancholy sounds of sobbing.
Someone was here, out in the middle of nowhere, standing in
this tower, and they were sobbing.
Something was not right. Kira now stood two flights of
stairs away from reaching the top, but that was no longer
appealing. Her breathing began to get heavy
as she was now concerned about alerting whoever this disturbed
person was to her presence. Thankfully, the winds at this
height gave her a slight cushion as they covered most of the
sounds. Kira glanced at the stairs and
noticed more stains smeared across the walkway.
However, these were far fresher. Some of the stains still dripped
a thick, dark liquid, indicating that something was probably
dragged up here. After seeing the stains, Kira
gasped. Once she did, the sobbing from
above suddenly stopped. The wind had betrayed her as it
now held its gust, and silence once again filled the air.
She stepped backward, hoping that whoever was above was
oblivious to her presence. Motion could be heard from
above, and Kira now knew it was time to get out of there.
She ran down the stairs as quickly as her body would allow.
She didn't bother with sound at this point as speed was her main
concern. An ear piercing scream came from
above, sending chills down her spine.
Had she not already been moving she would have most likely been
petrified in place. She quickly reached the bottom
of the stairs and knew better than to look back.
She knew if she did, she would see something she wouldn't like.
Kira struggled to find the old trail back to her camp, but fate
was again on her side. She eventually found it.
A quick glance behind her while a good portion down the trail
confirmed that she was not being followed.
A sigh of relief began to wash over her.
She began to calm down as she got closer to her camp.
Before she reached her camp, she saw a peculiar sight.
Standing in the middle of the trail ahead of her was a park
Ranger mounted on an old horse. He wore a uniform and badge,
including the iconic hat. He appeared to be old and
unaware of her presence. She caught him off guard as she
said hello while approaching. Whoa, what are you doing out
here? He said, legitimately surprised.
Sorry, I'm just out for a hike. She said.
His old crusty gaze peered over her in a disapproving way.
You shouldn't be out here, you need to stay on the posted trail
so you don't get lost. Kira nodded.
OK, I can do that. She said politely.
I ought to write you a ticket, but I don't have a pen.
Next time you won't be so lucky. Kira nodded.
Oh, by the way, there's someone crying in the fire tower at the
end of the trail. Kira mentioned as she passed the
Ranger on the trail. The Ranger had a bizarre look on
his face. You've been to the fire tower?
He said, legitimately confused. She stopped.
I didn't go inside, but I could hear someone crying from
outside. The Ranger was silent as he
clearly contemplated this new information.
All right, well, no one's supposed to be out there, but
I'll go take a quick look. Kira noticed that the Ranger had
a rifle tucked into his saddle, as well as a pistol holstered at
his hip. The two went separate ways, and
Kira was slightly frustrated. She made her way back to camp
and could hear the noise again of the other joyful campers.
The atmosphere had shifted again, but this time for the
positive. The warm sun soon began to set
as brilliant oranges and pinks filled the sky.
Kira debated moving her camp closer to the others but felt it
would be too much work, especially as it was getting
dark. Night time eventually came and
her strange encounter in the woods faded from her mind.
She got a small fire going and began eating the food she had
brought as she relaxed under the stars.
Kira called it an early night and put out her fire, making
sure to get rid of any trash and food so that critters wouldn't
get into them. Her hike had taken its toll on
her and she drifted off quickly into her sleeping bag.
As soft and sweet as her dreams were, they didn't last long.
Kira was awoken several hours later by the sound of something
heavy moving outside her tent. It jolted her awake.
Something large could be heard moving outside and she slowly
began to panic at her new found situation.
However, it didn't take her long to recognize the familiar
sounds. As she poked her head out from
the tent, she shined her light on the familiar horse she had
seen earlier that day. The horse was walking with a
limp and it's rider, the grouchy old Ranger, was nowhere to be
seen. She got out of the tent and went
to inspect the large animal, seeing that both the horse and
the saddle had several scratches on them.
The horse was slightly shaking, but enjoyed her embrace.
What happened to you? She said as she gently rubbed
the horse. Surprisingly enough, the saddle
still had its rifle on it. She racked her mind for what
could have possibly happened, but was unsure.
Maybe a bear attack or even a cougar could have done this.
The horse then began to walk away, back out onto the trail
leading back to the fire tower. She couldn't just let the horse
go, not after what she had seen. The horse then stopped and
waited as she slowly began to follow behind it with her
flashlight. She realized that the horse was
leading her somewhere, most likely to the scene of the
incident. After seeing what the horse was
doing, she grabbed the rifle from the saddle and continued to
follow her. Light shook as they walked side
by side, unsure of what they were about to see.
The old trail was much different at night.
Darkness seemed to fill all parts of the path except for the
small area where the flashlight shined.
The only thing that was the same was that eerie silence.
Shadows cast by branches and tree limbs gave off terrible
portraits of potential monsters lurking in the woods.
Kira tried her best to stay focused and not be so jumpy.
After a long walk deeper into the woods, the horse finally
stopped. Kira shined her light around,
hoping for anything to explain what was going on, but was only
left with more questions. Her light eventually landed
briefly on a figure lying face down on the ground.
The familiar uniform revealed to her ahead of time who it most
likely was. She walked over quietly and took
the rifle off her shoulder. Her light revealed small
portions of blood and torn clothing laying around the
lifeless body. She bent down and nudged it
softly to find that it was firm and cold.
She turned it over to confirm that it was indeed the old
Ranger from before. His torso had several scratches
running across it, but the bizarre thing about it was his
face. A look of horror still held on
his face as his mouth hung open, his jaw broken and making his
expression even more extreme. Red stains smeared across his
beard and neck as more scratches could be found.
It was his eyes that startled Kira.
Instead of his eyes having pupils or even being removed
altogether, his eyes were even more terrifying.
A Milky white color seemed to fill the entire eyeball, with no
traces of color. Kira gasped in horror as
something inexplicable had clearly occurred here.
She tried to move his body, but he was far too heavy.
Kira quickly turned back to the horse.
I can't move him, we need more help.
She whispered to the horse. Kira put the rifle on her back
and tried to pull the horse along, but it wouldn't budget.
The horse was loyal to its owner, even though he had
clearly passed. She quickly made her way back to
her tent where she tried calling the police.
Of course, she couldn't get a connection in the woods, so she
had to quickly make her way out to the parking lot.
Once she called the police, they gave her an estimate of when she
could expect the two officers to arrive.
Kira waited in her car for 45 minutes before they showed up.
It was about 2:00 in the morning.
The police arrived with their lights on but no siren.
Kira met them but made sure to leave the ranger's rifle in the
car. I'm the one that called about
the body. She said frantically as she
approached the two officers. Let's try to calm our voices
down, we don't want to alarm the other campers.
One officer said in a hushed tone.
I should also mention that I found his rifle out in the
woods, I grabbed it to make sure no one else did anything stupid
with it. She pointed to her car.
The second officer appeared inside.
I'm going to grab this as evidence, he said.
But instead of putting the rifle in the police cruiser, he slung
it on his shoulder. OK, show us where the body is.
Kira led the two officers out into the woods.
They found the small trail and followed it while doing their
best to be quiet. All three of them had
flashlights and shined them in different directions as they
quietly ventured to the scene. Once they arrived where Kira had
left the body, a shocking discovery was made.
The horse, which had been determined to stay there was
still there, but was no longer in one piece.
Its body was absolutely destroyed, and aside from its
head, no other part was recognizable.
The body of the Ranger, however, was no longer there.
This is where the body was. Kira whispered.
Both officers were silent as they scanned the woods around
them. One of the officers then shushed
Kira as they listened intently. The same stillness of the forest
hung quietly, but a familiar sound could be heard down the
trail. The sound of crying.
The two officers then looked at one another and proceeded to go
towards the noise. Wait.
Kira whispered. Something's not right about
this. The second officer removed the
rifle from his shoulder. It's clear that someone's under
stress and we need to look into this.
Kira then followed them but made sure to stay behind just on the
off chance that something bad would happen.
The three eventually reached the source of the sound and to
everyone's surprise, just sitting off the main trail was a
tall man. He was slightly hunched over and
facing a tree. His forearms were covered in a
dark liquid, but that wasn't what concerned them.
The tall figure was bald and completely naked.
His lanky arms looked brittle with hands and feet that were
too large. Sir, is everything OK?
The first officer said while slowly drawing his pistol.
The figure then stopped crying as they all stood there in
silence, not responding. Tension began to build as both
officers slowly got closer to the mysterious figure.
Sir, I'm going to need you to turn around.
The officer said. Again, no response.
Kira had backed up at this point.
Before both officers could issue a final warning, the figure
slowly turned to reveal a horrifying face.
Blood ran from its teeth filled mouth and Milky white eyes
stared at the officers. The creature had no exterior
nose, just a hole in its head. The officers were stunned as the
creature sprinted off into the woods at an alarming speed.
They had clearly come across something that they didn't have
a rational explanation for. The three silently agreed that
the best option was to get out of there quickly.
Their pace was quickened by the thought of that thing returning.
Once back at the main campgrounds, both officers
quickly got in their cruisers while alerting no one about the
situation. Whatever it was that we saw out
there, it's beyond our ability to assist.
The second officer said before driving off.
Kira sat in the dark parking lot as the tail light slowly faded
off into the distance. I have spent the last hour
Googling the name of my hometown.
Nothing is there. All the local schools and
restaurants are gone. Even my social media is messed
up. I can't find any of my friends
online. I can't find anybody.
I'm actually kind of freaking out about it.
Has anybody ever experienced anything like this before?
Don't believe me? Try it yourself.
Follett in City High, gone. Follett in middle, gone.
Follett in elementary school, gone.
Follett in City College, gone. That preschool behind the tire
place and next to that McDonald's where my mom took us
growing up, You get the idea. All gone.
Thousands of people, dozens of places.
I can't find information for anybody.
It's like we disappeared. I can't even reach the cops.
I wish that were the only problem.
My family and I woke up this morning to a total blackout.
Every single house on the block lost power.
That does tend to happen out here in the valley, often enough
that my older brother Mark rigged his computer to get a
connection via satellite. The two of us are currently
crouched beside the generator, desperately trying to get a
handle on the past few hours. My parents are panicking.
They won't say anything. They won't say why, but we have
our suspicions. I saw something in the woods
last night, right before the power went out.
When it was still dark outside, Mark woke me up and pulled me
over to his bedside window. He pointed frantically into the
trees behind our house. It was raining.
The mist made it difficult for my eyes to adjust.
But after a moment, something big we only agree on something
big darted toward the neighbor's back porch.
A thick branch fell in its wake. Then somebody screamed.
My parents rushed into the room right at that moment.
I guess they heard the commotion and freaked.
Mom beckoned for us to get away from the window.
I gave in right away because my parents can be scary when we
don't listen, but Mark lingered there a little while longer.
I didn't see what he saw. Mark whispered that he saw
somebody running. He said it looked like they were
running away from something. My father turned off the lights.
I found that odd and pushed my brother aside.
He squinted out the window in silence.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he concluded nothing
was there, just wind in the trees.
Then the power went out. My parents have been acting very
weird ever since. During the day, my mom tried to
keep us in the kitchen. She made breakfast, lunch, and
dinner over the fireplace. She even broke out a board game
in the afternoon and we played for a couple of hours.
She kept asking about schoolwork, football, baseball,
or anything but the odd situation we were in.
We tried to change the subject, tried to ask her what was
happening outside, but it was no use.
She ignored our questions. My father had a wild look in his
eyes. Mark and I can't recall anything
like it. He kept rushing to check the
window every few minutes. Then he would sit down to check
his cell phone, then back to the window, then back to his phone
like clockwork. Each rotation left him more
agitated than the last. The cable didn't work.
The Internet had been spotty. There was really nothing to do
but read a book or play a game. Mark asked to go for a walk
before dinner. I thought Mom might pop the
temple out of her forehead. Nobody goes outside, she
snapped. There could be live wires on the
ground. Mark snorted.
Watch your attitude, she barked. And keep the windows closed.
I asked why, and she just stared at me with these deadly fearful
eyes that made me really uncomfortable.
She looked like she wanted to tell me something, but my father
answered instead. Nobody goes outside.
I returned to my book without argument.
I found one of my mom's old Stephen King collections and
stumbled onto a story about rats in a basement bigger than a man.
Time moved a little faster. While I read, the walls of my
house started to evaporate. It didn't take long for my
imagination to disappear down the stairwell in the story,
plunging further into the darkness with each step,
listening to untold things move around me perilously through the
blackness. Someone knocked on the door
around 10:00 PM. After an entire day of endless
boredom, I thought this might be salvation, thank God.
Maybe a maintenance worker. Maybe a neighbor.
Maybe my friend from down the block finally convinced his
mother to traverse the minefield of imaginary live wire.
I got up from my chair to answer the door.
My father sprinted across the room to block me.
I don't think I had ever seen him run before.
He put his hand over my mouth. I tried to protest.
He squeezed my arm. He didn't look angry.
He looked scared. His eyes were on fire.
It grew quiet outside, like someone was listening.
One finger over his lips told me to shut up.
I looked over to my mom and saw her doing the same thing to my
brother. He looked like he wanted to cry.
The knocking resumed. The pace was pleasant at first,
your typical formal but friendly rat tap, tap, then a pause, then
rat tap tap. I was confused.
Why were they scared? Why would a burglar knock?
I thought that this could be someone who could tell us what
was going on, and it annoyed me that my parents were paranoid,
so I got the idea to try saying something anyway.
Not my best thought. He, my father grabbed me by the
throat and pushed me up against the wall.
His sweaty palm slipped against my mouth.
He raised one finger to his lips and held it there.
The knocking continued. My brother whimpered in the
corner. The door hinges wind from the
pressure of the knocks. My father reached into his
pocket with the hand that was formerly placed around my neck.
I knew he had a knife in there. The knocking continued and just
as soon as it started, the knocking stopped.
The house got quiet again. My father let go of me.
It's been hours since the knocker left.
My parents still won't talk to us.
My mom is sleeping on the couch, my dad is sitting in front of
the door with a gun across his lap.
Can someone please tell us what's happening in Fallaton
City? I still can't find anything
online. We are available through message
and comment as long as our connection holds.
I don't think I'll sleep much tonight.
It's too quiet. Do you know what happens when
you search online for Fallaton City?
Now this post comes up? I'm not quite sure how to
describe that feeling. We are a community of hundreds
if not thousands of people, each with countless stories and
worries of our own. You are only hearing one of them
now. I cannot understand how our
digital footprint could disappear overnight, but here we
are, day two in a missing city. I didn't get much sleep last
night. Mark spent most of it glued to
our bedroom window. He woke me and called me over
every now and again. Sometimes he saw flashes of
light in the distance. Sometimes he saw movement in the
trees. Mostly we saw fog.
Thick blankets of it descended on our house like a comforter.
It also never stopped raining. Big gusts of wind thump the
house hard enough to make us jump.
But the most uncomfortable parts of the previous night were the
periods of complete and total silence.
Something about that quiet can really make you crazy.
In any given suburb, there are 1,000,000 background noises at
once, even in a storm, even at night.
Birds should be chirping. Insects should be buzzing.
Car engines or motorcycles or air conditioners should all be
gently humming in unison. But we didn't hear any of it.
Not a single sound but our own. I couldn't stop thinking about
the neighborhood dogs. Shouldn't they be barking?
There was one in particular, a yappy little thing named Cesar,
which never passed up a good opportunity to wake you up in
favor of a scrambling squirrel or rabbit.
Did our neighbors have time to get them inside?
Did something else happen to them?
What happened to Cesar? Mark woke me up for the final
time around 5:00. I tried and failed to shrug him
off. I heard something in the street.
He whispered let's go. I asked him what he heard,
clicking, he answered. He got up and walked towards the
living room without another word.
I didn't want to go, I was freaked out enough.
I didn't and still don't need to add another messed up layer to
this situation. Blissful ignorance is sometimes
the best approach, but I got a gut feeling that this wasn't
something that should be missed and I didn't want Mark to be
there alone for it, so I followed him.
The hallway that leads to the living room passes by my parents
bedroom. We could hear my mother snoring
softly on the other side. A baseball bat was propped up by
her night stand. Her cell phone was at the ready
right beside it. We tiptoed past the creaking
wood floor and arrived at the entrance to the kitchen.
The clicking became clearer by that point.
Mark pointed over to an alcove by the couch.
I followed him to the corner. Then he stopped dead in his
tracks. My father was sleeping with the
gun in his hand. There was a window behind him
that looked out into our entire living room.
Staring through the other side was a giant black eyeball.
We froze. The eye darted back and forth
across the room. We were in plain sight, just
standing there in the kitchen like a couple of idiots.
But for some reason, the eye didn't seem to notice us.
It passed by a couple of times to focus on the toaster or
something else. My father must have
subconsciously read the tension in the air.
He stirred and moved to roll over.
When he did, thankfully, we locked eyes.
I put one finger to my lips. A sober understanding dawned on
his face. He took the safety off his gun.
The eye responded to the movement of the gun and in one
swift jolt, disappeared from behind the window, leaving a
wake of leaves and scattered footsteps behind it.
The air left my lungs. Something big ascended the wood
steps to our porch. My dad turned to aim the gun.
The knocking continued. This time we didn't need anyone
to tell us. We all stayed quiet.
We sat in still silence for the better part of the early
morning. My mother awoke some hours later
and got prepared to make breakfast, and only then did it
feel safe enough to move around the house.
Nobody told her what happened. I didn't think we needed to.
My father certainly wasn't going to.
I got the feeling from the look on his face that he would prefer
not to talk at all for as long as he could.
Mark returned to his spot by the window.
Dad disappeared downstairs to get another box of ammo for his
gun, I helped Mom cook over the fire, and we all went about our
tasks in complete and total silence.
Nobody tried to fake conversation anymore.
There wasn't any point in arguing about what was out
there. We had enough food, we had
enough water, nobody was going anywhere.
A knock came at the door just after noon.
Each of us instantly stopped what we were doing.
A sigh of relief echoed through the room when the familiar voice
of our neighbor, Mr. Hallow, followed.
He was looking for us. The door pounded harder.
No time to explain, please, he shouted.
Can you let us in? My father walked in and stood
awkwardly between my mother and the door.
I could tell that he would prefer to ignore it, but she
would never let him live it down.
The true married man's dilemma. Please folks, if you're in
there, open up. We don't have a lot of time, he
said. Mark shook his head.
Please, he begged. Jean is hurt.
My mom bit her nails. Dad gave in and reluctantly
looked through the peephole. Satisfied with his view of the
other side, he slid the pistol into his back pocket, unlatched
the lock and opened the door. Thank you, he said.
Mr. Hallow is a big burly guy. He took my father into his arms
and slapped his back so hard the sound echoed down the hall.
He moved over to chase my mother down for a kiss on the cheek as
his wife and daughter trailed meekly behind.
Thank you, he bellowed. Thank you, thank you.
We didn't know if we'd see anybody else.
My dad nodded awkwardly. My mom stepped up and hugged
Missus Hallow tight. A quiet, pitiful moan escaped
her lips as she did. The two of them were usually
thick as thieves. My neighbor was a nice lady, the
type that usually never shuts up, but now she couldn't get a
word out. A thin line of blood trickled
behind her foot. It didn't take long to notice
the source. Her slacks were cut from the
ankle to the knee. My dad slammed the door.
Come on, Jeannie, my mother cooed.
Let's get you cleaned up. The two of them walked hand in
hand to the kitchen. Mr. Hallow sat down on our couch
and wiped the sweat from his forehead and T-shirt.
His daughter Alice perched herself neatly on the arm beside
him. Like I said, he said while
catching his breath. Lucky we found somebody.
My father nodded again. Did you see it?
Mark asked. Whatever's out there, I mean.
Mr. Hallow stared back at him. He took a second before he
spoke, like he wanted to pick his words, which didn't quite
fit for a guy like him. One of them got in the house, he
said definitively. An open window downstairs.
We we trapped it in the basement.
My father held up his hand. Didn't feel safe staying there
though. He continued.
My father interrupted. Enough, He whispered.
Take a break Mike, let's talk. Mr. Hallow nodded in
bewilderment. He got up and shuffled after my
father towards the dining room, leaving Mark and I uncomfortably
with Alice. Alice Hallow is around my age.
She's short, with dark hair and dark eyes.
She has this awkwardly adorable roundhead that she covers up
with a bow or pin or some other new accessory every other day.
I've had a crush on her since grade school.
I know that's probably not relevant, but I just want to
point out what may later become obvious.
Mark elbowed me in the ribs. I ignored it.
So, did you see anything? I asked.
Like, did you see anybody out there?
She paused and then shook her head.
Well, what does it look like outside?
Mark asked. Normal, quiet.
She answered. And you really didn't see
anything? I asked again.
When it started. I mean.
She looked at me and shook her head, paused, then relented.
We were all inside, sleeping like you probably were.
It was late she started, or early, I don't know.
My dad was upstairs, I was upstairs.
My mom doesn't sleep much, so she was doing some laundry in
the basement. She continued.
She hesitated. I don't know what woke me up
first, her screaming or the power going out.
They both seem to happen at the same time.
My dad started shouting her name, you know Jeannie.
Jeannie and my mom was just wailing from the basement.
We both got to the kitchen and we could see her running up the
steps. She was screaming at my dad, you
know, close the door, close the door.
But my dad couldn't stop looking at whatever was behind her.
He just froze. She said.
Right? Mark whispered.
Can't blame him. So I reach out and slam the door
just as my mom makes it through and something wedges itself in
the doorway. She said.
Holy crap, I murmured. What was it?
I don't know. Something thick and sharp like a
claw I guess. It was wet too.
It left a stain. Anyway.
I couldn't get the door shut because of it.
I was panicking. I kicked my dad in the shin and
he threw his body weight against the frame.
The lock finally clicked and we heard whatever it was fall down
the stairs on the other side. She said.
She paused. It didn't come up again, she
said. My father reemerged from the
dining room some moments after our awkward silence.
Mr. Hallow trailed sheepishly behind.
Who's ready to eat? He asked.
We ate our fire cooked meal in relative silence.
All four parents made it abundantly clear through
menacing stairs that the topic of the crap show outside would
not be discussed with children present.
Mark again asked if he could go for a walk.
Nobody dignified him with a response.
After our dishes were done and disposed of, we retreated into
various alcoves of our suddenly cramped 3 bedroom.
Mark and I went back to our room.
Alice set up shop in the office with her mom.
My mother retired to bed early and both dads stood SAT guard in
the living room. The house grew quiet again.
The wind and rain finally seemed to slow down.
My Stephen King novella kept me company.
I couldn't help but empathize with the main character.
Somewhere between tails of rats in armor, bat rats, and albino
rats who never saw the sun, sleep came easily and
comfortably under my familiar warm sheets.
I woke up to a rude shaking. Alice was standing over me.
She didn't say anything, I guess she didn't have to.
Mark and I rubbed the last remaining ounce of sleep out of
our eyes and followed her wordlessly into the office. 2
cots were set up in the room. One looked dishevelled, the
other was still made. Alice pointed to the open
window. Her mother was gone.
My hometown is dying and I don't want to die with it.
I know it sounds ridiculous to be lamenting on an Internet
forum while the world is melting around me.
At the moment, it definitely feels ridiculous, but you have
to understand, if we don't survive, which we almost
certainly won't, this story will be my town's last living record.
That's important to me. That's important to them.
I have to let someone know what happened here, even if it's only
you. The truth is obvious now.
We are being exterminated. This town and its people are
being erased. Fallaton City is all but wiped
from the collective subconscious already.
All that's remaining are the survivors, the creatures, and
this story. I'll keep it going as long as
they let me. I don't know why this is
happening. I don't particularly care, not
anymore. I just want to get out of here.
This will be my Last Post from inside my childhood home, the
only home I've ever known. My brother and I have decided
that we won't die here. Mark packed a couple of
essentials in our school backpack.
The only thing that's remaining is this laptop and a frank
conversation with my parents. I know they're scared, We're all
scared, but we have to do something.
Missus Hallow didn't come back last night.
Alice only stopped crying long enough to tell the adults what
she knew, which wasn't much. She fell asleep sometime around
midnight. Her mother was in the room at
the time. She was acting strange though,
you know? She sobbed.
She just kept repeating the same things over and over and her
face was white, like really, really white.
I thought it was just shock over what happened, the scratch, the
attack, you know, I didn't know. I didn't know Mr. Hallow was
inconsolable. Well, we have to find her, Jack.
He bellowed. Me, you and the boys.
Alice can come too, if she's up to it.
We've got weapons, don't we? You've got a small arsenal here,
Richardson. They're big, but the damn things
are stupid enough. My father just shook his head
and pursed his lips. I won't risk my family's safety.
Dad insisted. Especially not at night.
Mr. Hallow's already red face turned a particular shade of
scarlet. He looked like he might blow a
gasket. Then he calmed himself and
delivered the next bit like a sermon.
Fine, he spit. Stay inside and cower.
Lie to your kids, keep them underneath the covers long
enough, and maybe they won't think there's monsters outside.
You raise your family how you want, jerk, but don't you dare
tell me how to take care of mine.
Mark looked down at his feet. I avoided my father's glance.
Alice, let's go. Mr. Hallow beckoned.
Get what you got, please. My father interrupted.
Just wait a minute. We're not staying.
Mr. Hallow finished. You're not convincing me to
abandon my wife out there. You know me better than that,
Jack. My father reached out and handed
him a gun. We have extra.
He paused. You'll need it more.
Mr. Hallow nodded awkwardly. He took the pistol and stuffed
it into an oversized coat pocket before turning and heading for
the door. My mom met him there with some
bread and other things stuffed into a plastic bag.
There wasn't much, but I think she felt like she had to do
something and she looked like she wanted to say more, but she
didn't. Alice reached out and gave me a
warm hug. She held on longer than expected
right around that time. I really wish she would stay,
not because of my feelings for her, but because a piece of each
of us knew what would happen next.
It all just happened so fast. Thank you for the hospitality,
she said. Mr. Hallow shook each of our
hands one last time. My father opened the door for
him. Without another word, the pair
descended the front porch into a thick evening fog.
Alice turned back to Wave. Then she turned around and they
were gone. My father shut the door.
Dad shuffled back to the couch and collapsed.
Mom waited at the door like they might change their minds.
Mark perched at the window. He looked over and shook his
head at me just as an all too familiar clicking echoed down
the block. I could feel my body
instinctively tensing. I had no true preparation for
what came next. The sound started quietly before
it seemed to fill the air. Soon it was as if 1000 crickets
suddenly invaded fallatin and all decided to chirp at the same
time. The ringing awful cacophony of
it was deafening. Somebody outside screamed.
I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman.
The chirping erupted even louder and seemed to devour their
voice. My father held his head in his
hands. He motioned for us to block our
ears. My mother started to cry.
Underneath the clicking, underneath the screams, one word
became clearer as it repeated over and over again in the
distance. Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie, the man
screamed. The gun went off soon after.
Jeanie, he said. One shot at first, then 234 in
quick succession. Somebody else started screaming.
I knew that had to be Alice. The pain behind that scream made
my stomach turn. The gun went off one more time,
the clicking dissipated, the scream stopped, and then it was
quiet again. My father got up and quietly LED
my brother away from the window. Mom fell to a heap in front of
the couch. I could feel the tears forming
in the corner of my eyes and desperately fought them back.
You knew that would happen. I accused my dad.
Why did you let her go? He stared back at me.
His eyes were cold. Heavy footsteps echoed on the
porch. The knocking continued.
My mother couldn't control her sobs.
My father dropped onto the floor to silence her.
It was no use. The two of them ended up in this
awkward wrestling embrace. The pounding outside continued.
We killed them, Mark whimpered. And now they're going to kill
us. The footsteps left the porch and
circled the house. We heard a knocking from my
bedroom window, then the office window.
They're checking for weaknesses, Mark whispered, trying to find a
way in. The sound ascended to the roof.
Heavy footsteps paced back and forth above us.
The chimney kicked back smoke. It's too small, my father
murmured. They can't fit.
Please God, they can't fit. My mother wrapped her arms
around her head. The knocking surrounded us.
There had to be a dozen of them, all checking various points of
entry, all clicking their disturbingly loud song in
unison. Staying quiet would be no use.
They had to know we were inside. Mark gestured for me to look
through the peephole. I squinted and noticed something
in the distance. It was still dark, but the sun
started to rise on the horizon and with it came a few tentative
beads of light which softly illuminated the neighbourhood.
I realized I was staring at the home of Yappy Cesar.
Standing in front of it was something I hope to never see
again. The creature stood at least two
to three times the height of a man.
It held itself up on two massive legs that bent wildly at the
knee, almost like pincers, and behind it were smaller legs that
trailed behind sort of uselessly.
I thought at the time that they looked like fins.
One of the bent legs reached out to my neighbor's glass.
There was a moment's pause. Their window opened.
I had to fight my instincts as a woman leaned outside as if to
greet the creature, which gently took her into its hind legs and
rambled down the hill. The unrelenting clicking soon
gave way to the scurrying of heavy footsteps.
A massive weight lifted itself off our roof.
The sun came up. We were alone again.
We have to leave today. We can't take no for an answer.
We have no choice. These things know we're here.
They will get inside tonight if I don't make it.
You know what happened. But please wish me luck.
I feel better knowing that some trace of my town will live on
this forum. I can hardly describe driving
through the complete devastation of my hometown.
We passed dozens of familiar homes from over the years.
Some of them had bullet holes, some had bent frames or broken
glass, some had dead bodies in their front yards, and I tried
not to look at those too long because I knew the faces, but
it's hard to stop yourself from looking once you start, you
know? I saw Alice, I saw Mr. Hallow, I
saw neighbors, I saw friends. Some of them died running, some
died fighting, but all of them seem to end up the same way, in
scattered bits and pieces, cast like trash, almost decorating
their own immaculately made front lawns.
My father drove the car. Only one Rd.
LED us out of town, but it passed through a few hiccups
along the way. The supermarket on Grand St. sat
behind two apartment complexes that tended to be crowded.
The gas station on Main would allow us to fill up, but they
didn't call it Main for nothing. And more people would almost
certainly lead to more problems. All of these issues swirled
around my head in unison with the backdrop of my entire town
carved up like origami right in front of my face.
And my dad didn't even seem fazed by it.
He actually hummed for the 1st 10 minutes of the trip.
My dad is not the type to hum. At first I thought it might be a
nervous thing, but then my mother started to join him.
Guys. I called out.
Mark glued himself to the car window.
He wouldn't look at me. Not even a shared glance of
misery. I knew from his reaction that
something bad was about to happen.
I guess I just didn't want to admit it to myself.
Dad, I said. My father slowed down around the
grocery store. He pulled into the lot
unceremoniously, as if it were any other Tuesday, while the
corpses of our neighbors lined the streets among us, clearly
baking in the heat of the rising sun.
I actually thought we hit one of them.
What are we doing? I asked.
Nobody answered me. Hello.
I tried again. My father parked the car.
He leaned over to give my mom a Peck on the forehead.
She nodded and smiled back. After a moment of silence, he
gingerly unclipped the seat belt and moved to get out.
Nobody bothered to stop him. Dad.
I shouted. Wait, are you serious?
You can't go out there. He smiled at me one last time.
Looking back, I like to think there was still some small part
of my dad in that smile. He looked like a weight had just
been lifted from his shoulders, like he got us this far, like
his job was done. I didn't understand it then, I
do now. I only saw the scratch when he
got up right above the belt, hip to hip.
His shirt had always been tucked.
My mother took a deep breath. Mom.
I begged. Mom, no, no, no, please.
She looked back at me and grasped my hand.
She was cold to the touch. Mark whimpered something small.
I knew then that he knew all along.
It happened the first night, he whispered.
They can't fight it anymore, Maddie, it won't let them.
The car door opened. Mom, you can't go out there, I
said. She pulled her hand away.
Mom, please, I said. It's OK honey.
She murmured dreamily. OK honey, OK honey.
She got out of the car and sprinted after my father.
I never saw my mother Sprint before, she looked so strange
doing it. I watched the two of them go
towards the store, hand in hand. In a moment they were there and
the next they were gone. We have to follow them.
I begged. Please.
A soft boom sounded from somewhere inside.
OK, he whispered hesitantly. But be ready to run when I say
run. Deal.
A second boom followed. Deal.
I muttered. I am the oldest, He insisted.
We don't know what we're going to see inside there.
You have to listen to me. Shut up and let's go, I said.
We hopped out of the car and ran across the empty lot.
Rain and heavy winds swooped in with our arrival.
Mark slipped and fell into a particularly nasty pool of
blood. I raced back to help him.
By the time we both made it inside, our parents were gone.
We looked around for a minute. The store seemed to be shelled.
Overturned shelves made it difficult to get around.
Smeared floors made the entire place stink worse than a
slaughterhouse. At the center of the store was a
staircase that leads to the basement level.
Normally larger items like water jugs are stored down there.
We got the distinct feeling that we weren't totally alone because
we could hear some kind of movement in that area.
So we move towards it. Mark found some cover behind a
blown out register. We used it to peek down the
staircase. An enormous pit sat below us.
We couldn't actually see where it ended.
Mark picked up a can and dropped it. 10 to 15 seconds later, it
made contact with the bottom. The closer we inch towards the
center, the more that movement seemed rhythmic, almost pulsing,
like a heartbeat. We heard footsteps.
Mark ripped my collar and pulled me back.
Approaching the center of the store were a man and woman who
both looked familiar to me from different places.
That was my first thought, you know, that they must be together
without me realizing, and that it really is a small city after
all. The couple walked up casually to
the edge of the pit. They looked at each other and
smiled. Then they jumped, hand in hand,
as if expecting to land in a ball pit.
The splat came after the boom. The store grew quiet.
Something seemed to be slurping down below.
What the hell? Mark whispered.
You don't think it drinks the blood?
I said. Suddenly.
The pulsing grew louder, Horrible scraping ripped
somewhere below it. I can't adequately describe this
sound, almost like a giant moth breaking its way out of a
cocoon. A familiar rhythm to the din
took over. Checking for weaknesses.
Mark muttered. Even at birth, the knocking
continued. Time to go, Mark shouted.
Definitely, I answered. Each of us put in our best track
performances to date. The building gave way as if an
earthquake were underneath it. We skidded out of the front
entrance just as the overhang dipped down to smash the
carousel door. My brother got to the car before
me. He jumped into the driver's seat
and thank God the keys were still in the ignition.
He smashed the gas and all but left me with the passenger door
popped open. I hopped in at the last possible
moment. The store collapsed behind me.
Mark doesn't know crap about driving, and neither do I, but
any idiot can hit the gas and steer away from the explosion.
We picked up speed while debris rocked the car.
Just as we got back on the road, Mark pointed into the rear view,
and I wish he didn't. Standing in the wake of the
grocery store was a creature three times its size.
I didn't look at it twice. We managed to drive to the gas
station before nightfall. We found it pretty much
untouched. I don't think anybody else made
it that far. We took the Mountain Rd. into
the next town and drove past sundown.
We are safe and sound now in a place called White Valley.
The people here are friendly, but none of them, including the
sheriff, can tell me a damn thing about Fallaton or what
happened to it the past few days.
Go figure. I hope more than anything that
my post can help drive more survivors out of the woodwork.
Please, please message me if you or someone you know lived
through the attack on Fallaton City.
I can't over stress the importance of that plea.
We cannot let our town be forgotten.
One day we will go back. I don't care if it's just Mark
and me. I know we can find the entrance
the same way we found the exit. We don't expect to find anybody
alive. That's just hope that's not
worth having. But we all have a right to know
what is living there instead. Signing off for now, Matt.
My family moved to rural Pennsylvania when I was four.
I was immediately entranced with living in the country with
several acres of woods behind us, and the house seemed huge to
me at the time. However, as a kid, I was always
sensitive to spiritual energy and there were definitely some
creepy things going on in that house.
My parents noticed that I stayed with our dog, Bambi, a lot.
He was a small sheepdog and my adventure buddy when we were out
in the woods. In case you're questioning my
parents, they trusted me as young as age 5 to walk alone as
long as I was with my dog as he was very protective of me.
My dad would also give me his cell phone to carry with me in
case I needed any help. Up until I was about 15, I spent
a lot of time alone by choice. After school, I'd be home by
3:20. In grade school, I'd eat lunch
and immediately take Bambi out into the woods.
We'd explore the surrounding forests, fields, meadows, and
ponds together. He was always right by my side
and seemed attuned to spiritual stuff as well.
If I felt something was in the house, he'd bark at it or whine,
or I'd watch him follow it around.
Usually he picked up on the presence of something at the
same time I would. From the backyard to the left,
there's a small strip of trees. In the fall and winter, when the
branches are bare, you can see the field next door, which is
about 300 yards from my house. There's a big shed up there in a
kind of runway where my neighbor would fly his biplanes off of.
What's important to the story is that I have no neighbors for a
mile in every direction. It's pretty rare to see any kind
of people on the surrounding properties, unless it's my
neighbors hanging the fields in the summer.
One day in early fall, I had been tromping through the woods
with Bambi for several hours. I let him run off the leash most
of the time, but he would run only about 20 feet ahead and
keep turning around to check that I was still there.
If I lost sight of him, he'd retrace his steps and find me
again. That day I got caught up
whittling something, so Bambi ran off for a little bit and I
suddenly realized that I was alone.
Suddenly there was a lot of crashing deeper into the woods
and I heard Bambi's alarm bark and a lot of yelping and then
some screeching. Raccoons and Gophers make really
scary distress sounds, so I figured that that's what it was.
I called for Bambi and he popped out of some brush covered in
pickers. Since I was spooked, I ran back
home with him. Right as I got to the back door,
I stopped to catch my breath and Bambi and I were just standing
there when I spotted something standing on the edge of the
runway. It ran along the higher end of
the field and then there was a steep drop off the edge of the
hill at the very end of it. They didn't appear to be wearing
anything distinctive, but even in the dusk I could still see
that they appeared completely black or everything about them
was very shadowy and dark. This is the part that gives me
shivers now. They were standing facing off of
the runway, and then I saw them hunched over, then slowly raised
their head and yell Bambi in the same high pitched voice I used
to call him. They had the same vocal
inflection as me too, but it sounded like they were really
trying hard to sound like me. Next to me, Bambi tucked his
tail under, lowered his head, and growled softly.
They called again, but this time it sounded like they were losing
their voice, as if they'd been calling for a while.
In my 8 year old logic, I assumed that someone was trying
to steal my dog, but why would they stand in the middle of the
field and be obvious about it? When I told my parents about
that night, they just dismissed the story.
The next day I went to my cousin's house 2 miles up the
road and my uncle told me about an animal he saw the night
before that he was trying to identify.
He said it looked like an emaciated cow sprinting across
the bridge over the Creek, which is about 300 yards from the
runway. And also since then, anyone
who's been at my house has always been uneasy around the
Creek and the plane shed runway, whether or not they're
interested at all in the paranormal.
I know a lot of deaths have happened in nature, but I've
also found several goats ripped up in the field.
The nearest house with any amount of goats or farm animals
is nearly 4 miles away and a lot of unexplained things have
happened there.