My name is Tom Owens. I am a retired worker for the
Department of Agriculture and I'm here to share with you a
story that has been the source of much anxiety, many questions,
and more sleepless nights than I would care to think about.
This is but one of the strange things that happened to me
during my time working as a Timber and Silva culture tech
for the Forestry Service in Indiana.
For a long time I have held my silence about what happened in
fear of what may become of me. If I decide to tell this story,
I was forced to sign paperwork stating I would forever keep it
a secret. Well, today that silence will be
broken. Having worked for the forestry
service for almost 22 years, it's easy to say that a person
need quickly learn to respect the forest and its inhabitants,
animal or otherwise. A lot of the work involved would
probably seem like pretty mundane things.
Such as marking out trees for timber and preparing locations
for seeding and tree planting. A lot of my time was spent alone
or in small groups. Bizarre things happened to me in
both of those situations, and I can assure you that the feeling
of safety in numbers really did not apply in my experience.
I cannot recall the exact date when this story takes place, but
I know it was early fall of 1988 and I had recently just
celebrated my 38th birthday and had been living in Nashville for
a couple of years by then. I had been teamed up with Henry
Waite and new boy Stanley Holt to scope out timber to be
harvested for firewood in the Brown County State Park just off
the Salt Creek Trail. Henry, a towering frame of a man
who at one time at least would have looked like he could fell a
tree with a single blow of an axe if he so wanted to, had been
doing this work almost his entire life.
He was maybe three or four years off retirement at this point.
He had deep furrowed lines crossing about his face and
forehead. Which suggested a more than
serious look about him and had a deep, gravelly voice that time
had clearly softened. I had worked with him on a
number of occasions in the 22 years I had under my belt with
the service, and in honesty, I didn't mind the old timer.
I mean, he wasn't always the perfect coworker.
He could be awkward when it came to making decisions, and there
were times when I would be sweating my tail off moving
equipment about only to find the guy sleeping in the cab of our
truck. But I had to accept the poor
dude was nearly 70 years old and had clearly done his share of
manual labor in his time. I certainly had a lot more time
for him than the others, it seemed.
Henry used to have some really interesting stories.
He used to tell others about stuff he'd heard out in the
forest and stuff he claimed to have seen too often times he was
alone when these occurrences took place, and the other
workers never really paid him much attention and generally
would pass off his stories as mere scaremongering.
Verging on the ramblings of a senile old man.
As for myself, I took his tails with a pinch of salt.
Heaven knows you had to, otherwise you'd likely find
yourself out alone one day and hear something in the distance
and end up totally crapping yourself and running back to
your truck. Other than this though, he never
was one to talk all that much beyond small talk and chit chat.
But when he was recalling one of his stories, he would come to
life, so to speak, and really put a great show on.
He was one hell of a storyteller, that's for sure.
I can picture him now with his tufty Gray hair wafting about in
time to his movement and the large lump of fur resting upon
his top lip obscuring a rather large portion of his weathered
old face, twisting and protruding as he formed his
words enthusiastically. There's no telling what you
might run into out there, son, he would often exclaim in his
gruff yet somehow gentle voice, But anyway, I'm here to share my
own story. And I hope I can portray it as
well as Henry often did. I remember the rays of the low
set afternoon sun were still strong for that particular time
of year, casting a warm glow over the still green forest
surrounding us. We had just finished packing our
kit bags with the markers and measuring equipment we would
need, and we're about to set off to the designated area on our
charts to begin tagging trees ready for harvest.
This was our last job for the day and conversation was thin as
Stan the new guy. Didn't seem like a
conversationalist of any kind, and the three of us settled into
that semi comfortable silence that strangers often find
themselves in when waiting for a bus or queuing up at the
checkouts in the store. He struck me as the sort of
person who was simply here to do his job and then go home.
He had no interest in it other than the financial reward he
would receive at the end of each week of work.
Fine by me, I thought as we quietly made our way along the
well worn path. The route we were taking was one
often used by hikers to reach the nearby camping area and a
rather nice viewing point. A few minutes passed before
anyone broke the silence and it was Henry that did so.
Looks like we need to follow the trail as far as the fork, then
hang a turn S into the trees, he stated.
Then probably another 20 minutes heading slightly east and we
should spot the first few that are ready for the chop.
I said you have been out this way before then I take it.
Henry paused a beat before answering.
Yep. Remember this trail Well, been a
few years, mind you, And he gave me a quick glance over his
shoulder. I noticed that when I had asked
the question, he had straightened his back ever so
slightly as he answered. Something the matter, Henry?
I asked. Not the location of one of your
famous ghost stories, is it? I said jokingly, trying to
lighten the atmosphere. Stan gave me a funny look that
clearly said he didn't know what I was on about.
Henry just scratched at his thinning hair.
Ain't no ghosts in my story, son.
He didn't say anything more, just maintain the same pace,
trudging ahead along the trail. What stories are you talking
about? Stan was looking at me.
A look of concern had crossed his face.
He was only 20 or 21. His slight build looked out of
place in his uniform and the kit bag looked like it might pull
him down to the ground at any moment.
Oh, nothing really. Henry likes to tell stories
about himself and scary stuff that's happened to him out here.
He's quite the storyteller, wouldn't you say, Henry?
I said, glancing past Stan to where he was making his steady
progress. He didn't respond.
Scary stories, Ha, Like what? Stan said.
Not ghosts, witches and werewolves.
Ain't that right, Henry? I said, trying again to get a
reaction out of him. But still he remained silent.
Except this time I saw his shoulders rise and drop.
In a theatrical sigh, I continued.
Rumor has it the poor dude ended up marrying 1.
I said jokingly, expecting to have to dodge a right hook from
Henry, but still there was no noticeable reaction.
I bet there are some really weird things out here, not like
people spend much time out wandering about the forest, is
it? Stan said, adding his thoughts
on the matter. Finally he spoke.
Not true, son. There's plenty of things out
here, not just deer and Cougars though.
But sure, there are fewer people relying on the land nowadays
compared to when I was your age. And that's for the best, I can
assure you. So what about hikers and such?
Should they worry about these things?
Asked Stan. He's been out here all of an
hour and already he's lapping it all up.
I thought I wasn't that gullible when I was so young.
Things is right. Boy, I don't rightly know what
someone should call them, Henry said.
Sometimes I wonder if they're even really of this world.
Okay, let's not scare the crap out of the poor guy before he's
even done any work, Henry. We've got a lot to get on with
this afternoon and we need all the help we can get if we want a
chance of getting home in time to see the sunset, I
interjected. Henry chimed back with.
All I'm saying is it's best to keep an eye out for weird crap
out here. We're alone in a good few miles
from, well, anybody, if you think about, that's enough, man.
I cut him short, for Pete's sake.
Can we just get on with finding these trees and doing our jobs?
My temper was fraying. Henry wasn't normally like this.
Usually he just wanted the same as me.
Do a good job, then get on with making it back to the truck
safely before it gets dark. I too had heard strange noises
when working out alone, but your mind plays tricks on you when
there's no company. The last thing I wanted was to
be stuck out here in the pitch black with a rookie and Mr.
Stephen King himself lugging all this crap about with us.
Henry just grunted something at me and carried on walking.
Stan was eyeing me with a look of worry about him, but didn't
press the matter any further. Much to my relief, it wasn't
much longer before we reached the fork in the trail that Henry
had mentioned earlier. He set down his bag and took a
seat on a fallen tree whilst I took out the chart and made note
of our destination from where we were.
Looks like we cut through in this direction, I pointed out.
Then it should be only another 20 minutes further on.
Is it okay if I go take a leak? Asked Stan.
I shouldn't have finished my flask of coffee on the drive
over here. Does a bear crap in the woods?
Replied Henry. Stan seemed a little
embarrassed, but said no more and cut off the path through the
tree line for a little privacy. The trees were a lot denser in
the direction we were headed. Not much sunlight made its way
through the thick canopy provided by the trees in
foliage. There was a slight chill in the
air now, it seemed, and a gentle breeze had picked up along with
what was the beginning of the even chorus of bird songs.
So what do you make of him? I took the opportunity to ask
Henry who. What do you mean?
Who? Stanley, the new guy?
You know, been with us the past couple hours on his first day?
Or is your memory going in your old age?
My memory is just fine, actually.
I was just thinking about something else is all something
else? Henry didn't reply.
Care to elaborate? I asked after a moment.
Just the last time I was up here, not one of my best days at
work. From what I remember, some
really weird stuff started happening.
Oh God, can you drop the weird stuff thing already?
I replied tensely. For the first time that
afternoon, I felt a strange sense that something was not
quite right, like the sensation we were being observed or
something. Geez, have you let him get to
you too? I thought to myself.
I shook the feeling off and a moment or two later Stan
returned and we made our way E as planned, though this time I
was paying a lot more attention to our surroundings.
The area we were in occasionally received reports of large
carnivores such as mountain lions, Gray wolves, and black
bears. It's sometimes paid to keep a
casual idea of your surroundings.
I didn't fancy unknowingly being stalked by a Mountain Lion or
such. About halfway to the marked area
on the map, I began feeling my legs start to protest at
carrying the large weight on my back.
I wasn't unfit by a long run, far from it in fact, but as we
were no longer on the marked path.
It was surprising how much more energy was required to make
progress through the undergrowth.
Where we were headed was only just over 1/2 mile from the
trail as the crow flies, but the going was much tougher and more
time consuming. I began to wonder how long Henry
would go before he too started to slow, but to my surprise he
carried on without a problem. Stan, on the other hand, was
clearly not as used to the hard trek with the extra weight.
Dark sweat patches had formed around his armpits, and I
noticed him occasionally wiping the sweat from his brow.
Suddenly, in the distance somewhere came the sound of what
I could only say was a chainsaw. Well close to the sound of 1.
Anyway. It had an unusual buzz to it
that undeniably sounded a lot closer than the noise of the
chainsaw itself. All three of us stopped to
listen. None of us seem to be able to
tell which way it was coming from.
Didn't realize we were near a logging site.
Out this way, I thought out loud.
We're not. The closest one is about 40
miles from here, countered Henry.
Could just be someone gathering some firewood, I said.
Weirdly, The noises I normally associated with the forest had
stopped. The breeze had died, too.
Sweat beaded on the back of my neck and slowly made a cold
trail down right to where my belt was.
I shivered slightly in response. I scanned our surroundings,
looking for the source of the noise, but the trees created a
weird acoustic, and I found it impossible to tell.
Strange, Henry said. It sounds wrong.
What do you mean? I asked.
It sounds like it's on a loop, just the same buzzing noise on
repeat. He was right.
I hadn't noticed it at first, but it was clear now.
There was no deviation in the tone of the chainsaw noise, Not
like when you cut wood in The tone and pitch change as the
engine works more and less to cut through the trunk of a tree.
Something wasn't right about it and it just made me want to be
as far away as possible from it. Whatever it was was giving me
chills down my spine. Suddenly the sound stopped.
Without warning, we were plunged into complete silence, no leaves
rustling in the wind. That breeze was gone too.
But most strange of all, not a single bird was singing, Not a
single note. My unease grew even more to a
point where I actually felt like there was a lump in my throat I
couldn't swallow. We should just keep mo click.
The sound came before I could finish my sentence.
I glanced over to where the noise had come from and I saw
Henry aiming a .38 revolver high above his head.
What the boom. He fired it.
The surrounding area echoed the sound across the whole place,
and the forest itself seemed to come alive as hundreds of birds
flocked from the treetops and made a quick getaway from the
loud noise. In the distance, I noticed a few
deer dart from the cover and disappear into the thick
vegetation of the forest. You crazy son of a gun.
Why the hell do you have that out here?
I asked angrily. You know we could lose our jobs
if they find out you carry one of those in a company vehicle.
Calm down, son, It's just a bit of protection.
This is bear country, don't forget, said Henry Crossley.
Besides, nobody will find out as long nobody says anything.
He eyed Stan and me as he said this.
Geez, All right, just put the thing away before you blow
someone's head off waving that about.
Can we just get on and get home already?
I said. Throwing my arms up into the air
and pushing past them both in the direction of the trees to
the east, the chainsaw noise had disappeared too.
Whoever it was, we're now probably scared.
Someone lunatic was out here with a gun in the middle of
nowhere. Henry scowled at me as I passed
him, but soon matched my pace and was walking along beside me.
Stan was following on behind. He didn't seem the least bit
worried about what just happened.
Guy's an idiot, this one. How can he not give a damn about
him randomly firing off shots when he's just met the man?
I wondered. You can thank me later, Henry
said to me under his breath. What for Bringing a gun with you
to work so we can all get fired? No, for probably saving your
tail back there, he said. From what?
You really are crazy, aren't you?
They have been following us for a while now.
Goosebumps covered all over my skin and I suddenly went cold.
The hell are you on about, Henry?
Don't mess about. This is not funny, man.
Look, I'm not going to say anything, so just drop the act,
will you? I said.
My mind went back to the chainsaw noise, wondering if he
wasn't just trying to scare the living crap out of me.
Because if he was, it was damned well working them things.
You might not have seen them, but I did see.
I know what I'm looking for. I've seen them before, the last
time I was out these ways. Like I said earlier, What
things, Henry? I thought those were just
stories you made-up to scare people.
Holy hell, it was getting me worried enough as it is.
I don't want to hear anymore of it.
I said look, all I know is that they mean bad trouble.
They aren't natural, whatever they are.
People go missing out here regularly and nobody seems to
give a damn about it. Whole groups of people have gone
out hiking and never return. Campsites are found undisturbed,
but the owner just outright disappears then.
The next you hear about them is a random piece of their clothing
turns up out of the blue, usually a shoe or something.
No blood on it or scratches or anything normally within a few
days of them disappearing, but whatever turns up is usually far
away from where they went missing, too far for them to
have got there themselves in the time that they are gone.
We're talking miles away. Something strange happens in
this forest, so keep your eyes peeled son.
It might just mean the difference between going home
tonight and not. This was the most I'd ever heard
Henry say when not recalling one of his many stories.
Something about the way he was looking at me and the way he
said it told me he was being serious.
So why aren't telling Stan the same thing if it's that
dangerous here? I countered because I don't
trust him. As far as I can breathe
something different about him compared to before, He won't
look me in the eye. Also, in case you haven't
noticed, he hasn't said a damned word since we left the trail
back there. He was right.
Stan had not said a word since he left us and came back.
He didn't even flinch. When Henry had fired the gun a
minute ago and he was standing right next to him, it should
have nearly deafened him. I thought about what he was
telling me and tried to process it all.
The sun was getting lower in the light level in the forest
suddenly seemed a lot darker. All right, let's just say you're
right. We're in the crap and being
followed by whatever it is and something's not up with Stan.
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he couldn't hear us.
Stan was ambling along behind us and staring hard straight back
at me. Yee, you all right back there,
Stan? I stumbled over the words,
oozing suspicion. He just smiled back and carried
on walking, then looked out to his right into the trees.
Damn what was up with his eyes? They looked as though they were
glistening, as if he was going to cry.
But his posture and his body language were nothing but
confidence. Yet at the same time, the way he
was walking seemed off, slightly rigid or something.
Henry drew my attention away as he started speaking again.
If I'm right, which I'm almost certain I am, we need to make it
back to the truck and out of these trees and fast.
What if we don't make it back to the truck?
I asked fearfully. Then we're screwed, said Henry,
point blank. By now I was genuinely scared.
For the first time in my life, I was fearing for my life, and I
didn't even know what I was scared of.
We need to turn back. We're only an hour's hike from
the truck, and we should have enough daylight left to make it
in time. But we need to leave now, said
Henry. And what about Stan?
You think there's something wrong about him?
I asked Henry. I think he's one of them, he
said back when we're at the fork and he came back from having a
leak. Didn't you notice how quiet
everything was? Like complete silence?
Not quite, but damn silent. What?
But it's Stan. Are you sure you don't need GLA?
They can change into other things, came Henry's reply.
My mind was racing, trying to take it all in.
There was so much that didn't make sense.
It should all just belong in a horror movie.
But now apparently it was real. It takes them time to perfect
it, and usually it's not perfect.
They even sound exactly the same as the person they are copying.
I'm pretty sure that chainsaw noise back there was one of
them. That's why it was sounding like
a loop, almost. As he finished speaking, the
chainsaw noise started up again as if on cue.
This time though, it was a lot closer, and I was certain I saw
movement behind Henry. We both froze.
Henry followed my gaze. What I saw chilled me to the
core. In the middle distance was the
silhouette of what sort of resembled a person sitting on
their haunches, but this person would have easily been at least
8 feet tall if they were standing.
It took a step closer and must have covered a good 10 meters.
In one stride, its skin caught a rare ray of sunlight filtering
through the trees. Its skin was pale and sickly
looking, and appeared to be painfully drawn tight over the
skeletal frame of its body, almost to the point of splitting
open. I felt my blood run cold, but I
couldn't move. I was frozen to the spot with
fear. The same seemed to apply to
Henry beside me. It cocked its head at us both,
like a dog sometimes does. I realized it's lopsided.
Mouth was open, and just as it closed it, the chainsaw noise
stopped abruptly, only to start again when it opened its mouth
for a second time. Inside were luminous, serrated
teeth. Huge teeth, like some dramatic
makeup prop. Henry stole a quick glance
behind us. Damn, he whispered.
Stan is gone, What the hell? I stammered, but I couldn't tear
my gaze away from this thing. It was like it was staring
straight into my very being. Suddenly it closed and opened
its mouth again. This time, instead of the
chainsaw, it emitted a loud and clear click.
Henry looked down at the revolver in his waistband.
Holy crap, it's mimicking the noises we've been making, he
said. Almost instantly, the creature
lurched forward towards us at an incredible speed, but on all
fours, bounding over a fallen tree half its own height like it
was nothing. Run.
I bellowed. I took off without looking back
to check if Henry or the creature was following.
I could hear branches breaking behind me, which I'm sure must
have been him as off to my side. I could hear the same, only a
lot louder, as if whole trees were being snapped in half.
I ran for my dear life as fast as my legs would carry me.
I dropped the heavy bag that was weighing me down, expensive gear
crashing to the floor. Damn it, I don't care how much
it's worth. I thought the chainsaw noise was
underway again, getting nearer and faster as I broke back onto
the Salt Creek trail. My feet pounded the dirt beneath
me as I pleaded with my legs to move faster.
I suddenly was hit by what I could only describe as a wall of
stench. The smell of rotting flesh was
unmistakable, making me Wretch bile into my own mouth and
burning my throat at the same time.
I looked off to my side and to my horror, the beast was getting
closer, bounding through the trees just a few meters off.
It locked eyes with me and I nearly stumbled.
The thing was smiling at me. Showing off row after row of
unimaginably jagged, sharp teeth, it opened its mouth and
let off an animalistic screech that was high pitched and
shrill, but reverberated around inside my body.
At the same time, I could hear Henry behind me, somehow keeping
pace. Somehow he was keeping up, even
though he was in his 60s and we must have covered most of a mile
by now. My own lungs were on fire and I
could feel the burning in my legs start to become too much to
push through. I was running on pure adrenaline
and fear. I rounded the last corner before
the small clearing where we had parked the truck earlier.
Just a bit further, and I was free of this nightmare.
As I crested the small hill leading into the car park, my
heart sank. There was no truck.
There wasn't even a car park, just another seemingly endless
trail. My mind worked overtime trying
to figure out if I had made a wrong turn.
I was sure I hadn't. There was only one trail
anywhere near here. And it was the only one in and
out of the forest for miles around.
I could hear the creature gaining on me.
I dared not look into the trees again to see how close it was.
My thoughts changed instantly as I heard the unmistakable noise
of someone stumbling behind me. Oh crap, Henry had fallen.
I skidded to a halt and swung around to grab him.
No, keep going, he yelled at me. I hesitated for a split second.
No, I can't leave him, I thought.
But it was all the time the thing needed.
Before I could take one step in Henry's direction, it was upon
him. It pinned him face down into the
dirt as it looked up at me. Its face was different.
It looked like some kind of wolf, but with the torso of a
man. What would have been its rear
legs were also that of a wolf, only this thing was standing up
now and was at least 7 or 8 feet tall.
All I could smell was rotting flesh so strong it was making me
want to puke again. My mind tried to make sense of
it all. Had it changed shape again?
I asked myself. The creature opened its wide
mouth and let off a horrific screech before leaping away with
Henry and its clutches into the tree line.
As I stood there dumbfounded, I heard a wet squelching and
cracking sound, accompanied by a terrible guttural scream.
He was dead. Henry was dead.
Before I could even process that he was gone, taken by some
damned creature. I had the chainsaw off to my
side again. Tree branches started thumping
and cracking as something made its way to where I was, and
fast. There must have been more than
one, I realized. I took off again, not even time
to think about what Savage and Henry must have met.
Hell, I didn't even want to try to imagine it.
As fast as my legs would carry me, I headed further along the
trail that should have taken me back to the truck and to safety.
Up ahead. There was a turn in the track.
Could I have got it wrong? Was the car park further than I
had originally thought? All around me the forest was
alive with screeching and branches snapping in the loud
clicks of Henry's revolver cocking.
It was getting louder the closer I got to the bend up ahead.
As I suddenly was on top of the corner, the noises reached fever
pitch. I was sure I was done for.
I rounded the bend only to be confronted with the sudden end
of the trail and a wall of dense, thick trees.
I was screwed. I was certain that these were
going to be the last moments of my life, torn to shreds by
something nobody even knew existed.
I dove into the trees, not wanting to give up yet somehow
believing I could escape. But in reality, the trees were
where they were most at home, leaping about like it was
nothing. While I blindly tripped and
stumbled my way onwards without warning, the ground beneath my
feet dropped away, and before I knew it, I was falling down and
down, smashing into trees and branches on the way.
I looked down at where I would land just in time to see a
massive bow from a tree coming straight from my face.
I hit it full force and saw stars replace my vision.
I tried not to think of the terrible things about to happen
to me after those things caught up with me.
Then everything simply went black.
All I was aware of was a high pitched whining noise coming and
going. I'm not sure how much time
passed. The first thing I could sense
was movement all around me. Then I could hear shouting.
Yes, shouting. That meant people.
Something opened my eye and a blinding bright light poured in,
stinging my corneas, then the same to the other.
I opened them both and was staring face to face with a
woman I had never seen before. He's awake, she exclaimed.
My head was pounding and there was a tingling sensation down my
left side. Suddenly I was aware of a
terrible throbbing in my forehead.
I let out a pathetic groan in response to the pain.
Morphine. Said the woman loudly.
Her booming words rattled my brain.
It's OK Sir. We're going to give you
something for the pain. Just try to relax and not move.
She was holding my head firmly in place.
My eyes scanned over behind her and I saw a male paramedic
coming over with a syringe. He just fell out of the tree
line straight in front of my rig.
A large man said he was wearing denim and a leather jacket.
He looked to be speaking to a police officer who was busy
taking notes. I must have blacked out again
because I next woke up in the hospital as a nurse was reading
my vitals. Hello, Sir.
Don't worry, you are safe now. That was some nasty accident you
had back there. You were lucky that 18 Wheeler
didn't run you over. I opened my mouth, tried and
speak, But no matter how hard I tried, no words would come out.
It turned out I had suffered mild brain damage as a result of
my fall. It took me nearly three years to
be able to speak properly again. Endless therapy sessions.
And the constant pain of not being able to tell anyone about
what had really happened in that forest.
Henry and Stan to this day are still listed as missing people.
Police interviewed me, but all I could say was that I couldn't
remember anything that happened that day.
I was considered a suspect for a very long time, but they had no
evidence of any foul play. I think eventually they got
bored and genuinely started to believe I had hit my head hard
enough to not remember any of it.
I was also visited in the hospital by a representative of
my employer. I was basically scared of
signing a nondisclosure form about anything that might have
happened to me whilst in the forest.
I wish that were true. The truck driver visited me also
during my time in the hospital. He was a nice man, if a bit
rough around the edges. Nick Current is his name and I'm
still friends with him today, nearly 20 years later.
The thing is though, something he told me doesn't quite sit
right. The location where I nearly
landed directly under his wheels was just outside of Bloomington,
on the I-46 road over 10 miles away from where we were working
that day. I still don't know what those
things were in the woods. I try not to think about it.
Mostly they just give me nightmares.
I'm just glad to have gotten it off my chest, so to speak.
Maybe tonight I will sleep a little better.
Finally, I just hope nobody else has to go through the same
things that I did almost 30 years ago.
I've always felt more at home in the wild expanses of Montana
than anywhere else. The crisp air, the scent of pine
and earth, the clear star filled nights.
They're a part of who I am. My name is Robert Blake, a park
Ranger. At least that's what I used to
be. The day that changed everything
started out just like any other. The sun painted a golden hue
over the morning sky, casting long shadows over the landscape,
but the call I received that day was anything but ordinary.
Lisa, a young hiker with a taste for the path less traveled, had
gone missing. With a sense of determination
coursing through me, I prepared myself for the search.
It wasn't the first time I had been tasked with finding a lost
soul in the wild, and I intended to bring Lisa back just like all
the others before her. I packed my gear, checked my
compass, and set out towards the unexplored region where Lisa was
last seen. A remote, barely touched part of
the park that folks around here tend to avoid as my boots crunch
through the carpet of pine needles.
A chill gripped me, unnatural for the season.
The forest stood tall and dense, its quietness oddly unsettling.
Usually the forest echoed with life, bird singing, leaves
rustling the murmur of a distant Creek.
That day the silence was profound, An orchestra with no
conductor. I shrugged it off as just
another quirk of this lesser known part of the forest.
The deeper I ventured, the more the forest seemed to change
around me. The trees look distorted,
gnarled, as if they held untold stories.
Animals I encountered had a strange, almost knowing look in
their eyes, their behaviors erring on the side of bazaar.
They watched me as I passed, their gaze unsettling, filled
with an eerie intelligence. As I progressed, my compass
needle started to dance wildly. N was everywhere and nowhere.
Static filled my radio, punctuated by fragments of an
unintelligible language that sent chills down my spine.
This was not normal, not at all, and the realization sank heavy
in my stomach. But I couldn't turn back, not
yet. There was a girl missing, and it
was my job to find her. Hours turned into an afternoon
when I stumbled upon what I'd been searching for, Lisa's
campsite. The tent was torn apart, her
belongings scattered around in disarray, but the absence of
struggle or blood was eerily ominous.
I found her diary filled with hastily scribbled entries about
whispering shadows and eyes in the darkness.
As I read, a shudder ran through me.
It was unsettling, yes, but also a sign that Lisa was here and I
had to find her. The sun began its descent, and
darkness started to creep into the forest.
But I couldn't leave. Not yet.
I decided to stay, to brave the darkness.
Maybe I'd find something in the night that would lead me to
Lisa. Looking back, I see now that it
wasn't the wisest decision. But at that moment, all I knew
was I couldn't leave Lisa alone in this eerie forest.
So I stayed oblivious to the terror that the night would
bring. Little did I know I was stepping
into a nightmare that would forever change me, leaving scars
that even time wouldn't heal. The sun dipped below the
horizon. Plunging the forest Into
Darkness, I set up a makeshift camp near Lisa's torn tent, the
stark signs of her disappearance A grim reminder of my task.
As the last light faded, the chilling silence grew heavier, a
tangible entity pressing on me from all sides.
I had always loved the night. The darkness was a canvas for
the stars, the silence, a melody of the wilderness.
But that night, under the canopies of the ominous trees,
the darkness felt different. It felt alive.
Almost sentient. The silence wasn't just the
absence of noise. It was a void, an emptiness that
felt like it was consuming everything, even sound itself.
The wildlife which had unnerved me in the daylight was now
completely absent, their absence only amplifying the sense of
dread. I found myself missing their odd
behaviors, their strange watchfulness.
At least they were a sign of life, a comfort in the
increasingly foreign landscape as hours rolled by.
The anomalies I had noticed in the day worsened.
My compass needle continued its frenzied dance, oblivious to the
laws of nature. The radio static was a steady
undertone, broken only by those cryptic foreign whispers.
They grew louder, more insistent as the night grew darker, a
grotesque soundtrack to my mounting fear.
I began reading Lisa's diary again, seeking some clue, some
hint, about what might have happened to her.
Her frantic entries about the shadows that whispered and the
eyes in the darkness took on a terrifying new meaning as I sat
in the gloom. Was this what she had felt?
The same inexplicable fear, the sense of being watched,
desperate to break the deafening silence.
I found myself speaking out loud, calling for Lisa, hoping
against hope that she would respond.
But my voice sounded strange, distorted, swallowed by the
eerie quiet. The forest seemed to be
listening, waiting. The dread was a living creature
now curling around my heart in a grip of ice.
In the midst of this, I found something peculiar near Lisa's
tent, a trail of peculiar footprints leading into the
deeper parts of the forest. They were not human, nor any
animal I could recognize, a bizarre pattern that stirred A
primal fear in me, a remnant from ancient times when humans
were prey, not predators. I decided then, in a bout of
what I now know was folly disguised as bravery to follow
the trail. I had a torch, a gun, a sense of
duty that was beginning to feel more like a death wish.
I couldn't shake off the feeling of eyes on me, a watchful
presence that was neither animal nor human.
With a deep breath, I ventured further into the heart of the
woods. As I walked, my footprints
joined those on the trail and unwanted dance with an unseen
partner. The decision to stay overnight
was turning out to be far more terrifying than I had
anticipated. The unsettling woods were
proving to be more than just a strange, unexplored part of the
forest. They were a living nightmare, a
labyrinth of fear and dread. But I was in too deep to turn
back now. The path before me held untold
terror, but it was also the path to Lisa, and to answers I
desperately sought. That night, in the heart of the
disturbed woods, I came face to face with an entity I could
neither understand nor explain. I would not find Lisa.
But I would find fear a fear so profound that it would change me
forever. Following the trail deeper into
the forest, I could feel the world shifting around me.
It wasn't just the disorientation of the dark or
the spine chilling silence that suffocated every sound.
There was something else, something deeper, A presence
that I couldn't see but could feel in every fiber of my being.
I had started to feel at the moment I stepped into this eerie
part of the forest. A sense of watchfulness that
hung in the air like a spectre. But now, as I trudged on, the
presence became more palpable, pressing against my senses with
a weight that was almost physical.
It felt as if the forest itself was watching me, whispering in
an ancient, forgotten language. Suddenly my torch flickered out
and I was plunged into complete darkness.
Panic surged through me as I fumbled to turn it back on.
All I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my ears,
the rush of my own breath. The static from the radio had
ceased, replaced by a silence so profound it was deafening.
The whispers, now clearer, seem to come from every direction,
their cryptic syllables echoing through the darkness.
In the distance I saw something, a flicker of movement, a
distortion in the darkness. I squinted, straining my eyes.
Then I saw them, the eyes that Lisa had written about, glowing
faintly in the dark, staring at me from the depths of the
forest. I can't explain what I felt in
that moment. It wasn't fear, not just fear.
It was a feeling of being completely and utterly helpless,
a small, insignificant creature in the face of something so
ancient and vast that it made my existence feel pointless.
I wanted to run, to flee, to escape this terrifying place,
but my body refused to obey, locked in place by an unseen
force. The eyes watched me unblinking.
The whispers grew louder. Their alien syllables filling
the air around me. Then it moved, The eyes shifted,
and I saw a form taking shape in the darkness, a massive shadows
that didn't belong to any animal, any human.
The presence was no longer just a feeling.
It was real, and it was right in front of me.
The entity didn't attack. It didn't need to.
It's mere presence was a show of power, of dominance.
It was a part of the forest. Or maybe the forest was a part
of it. I could only stand there.
Frozen in fear as it watched me with those glowing eyes.
And then it spoke. The whispers converged into one
voice, a deep, resonating tone that echoed through the silent
forest. It spoke in the same cryptic
language, the words sounding ancient and powerful.
I didn't understand what it said, but I felt it.
A warning, perhaps, or a proclamation.
It was a message meant for me, a solitary human lost in the vast
ancient wilderness. As abruptly as it had appeared,
the entity receded into the darkness, the eyes fading away,
the whispers dying out. But its presence remained, a
lurking consciousness that filled the forest.
I was left standing in the darkness, my mind reeling from
the encounter. I didn't find Lisa that night,
but I found something far more terrifying, An entity that was
the forest, an ancient consciousness that still haunts
me to this day after the entity disappeared into the shadows.
I was left alone in the profound darkness, my mind racing.
The glowing eyes, the cryptic whispers, the sheer force of its
presence. Everything was imprinted on my
mind, refusing to fade away. The forest, which had once felt
like home, was now an alien world, a maze of terror.
Where I was the prey, the silence was broken by a rustling
sound. I spun around the beam of my
torch, cutting through the darkness, illuminating nothing
but trees. The whispers had died down, but
a new sound filled the air, a low hum vibrating through the
very ground beneath me. Then it came, a gust of wind, so
cold that it seemed to seep into my bones.
It whipped through the trees, stirring the leaves into a
frenzied dance. A sense of dread filled me, a
raw, primal fear that set my heart pounding.
I could feel it again, the entity, its presence more
intense than before. I started running the fear.
The raw terror it fueled me propelled me forward.
Branches whipped against my face.
Roots seemed to rise, to trip me up, but I didn't stop.
I ran, my breath coming out in ragged gasps, the cold air
stinging my lungs behind me. I could hear it, the entity.
It wasn't a sound, not really. It was the whispers, the hum,
the wind, everything merging into a dreadful Symphony that
seemed to follow me. I could feel its eyes on me, a
predator watching its prey. I didn't know where I was going.
My compass was useless, spinning wildly.
My torch was a feeble defense against the all-encompassing
darkness. All I knew was that I had to get
away, get out of this terrifying place.
After what felt like an eternity, I saw it, a glimmer of
light in the distance. The sun was rising, painting the
sky with hues of orange and pink.
I ran towards it, my entire being focused on escaping the
darkness, escaping the entity. As I emerged from the forest,
the sun's rays hit me, warm and reassuring.
I collapsed onto the grass, my lungs heaving, my body screaming
from the exertion. Behind me, the forest stood
silent, a stark silhouette against the dawn sky.
The entity didn't follow me out of the forest.
Maybe it couldn't, or maybe it chose not to.
But even as I lay there, watching the sun rise, I could
still feel it. Its presence was like a shadow,
a dark imprint on my consciousness.
I never went back into the forest after that.
The memory of that night, the terror, the entity.
It was too much. I still have nightmares.
Dreams where I am, back in the forest, being chased by the
entity. It's glowing eyes watching me
from the darkness. The forest was my home, my
sanctuary. But that night it turned into a
terrifying labyrinth, a place of fear and nightmares.
It was a reminder that there are things in this world that we
cannot understand, cannot explain.
Entities that are as old as the forest itself, lurking in the
shadows, watching, waiting. The morning after the encounter
with the entity, I was a changed man.
I had ventured into the forest as a park Ranger, confident and
fearless, only to emerge as a shell of my former self.
Broken and terrified as the sun rose higher, painting the world
in shades of light, I hobbled back to the Ranger station.
Every step away from the forest felt like a victory.
A triumph over the unspeakable terror that lurked within its
depths. I entered the Ranger station, my
body still shaking from the adrenaline, my mind and turmoil.
The familiar space felt foreign, alien, just like everything else
since my encounter. I sat at my desk.
The report forms in front of me, a grim reminder of the task I
had failed. I had gone into the forest to
find Lisa, to bring her back to safety.
Instead, I came back alone, with nothing but a terrifying story.
And the haunting memory of an entity that defied all logic and
reason. How could I write that in a
report? How could I explain the
unexplainable? I wrote the only thing I could.
I reported that I had found signs of a struggle near Lisa's
campsite, signs of an animal attack.
I couldn't bring myself to write about the entity, the glowing
eyes, the cryptic whispers. Who would believe me?
I hardly believed it myself. As the days turned into weeks,
my life became a monotonous routine.
I went through the motions, did my duties, filed my reports, but
I could never go back into the forest.
Each time I tried, I could feel it calling to me, the entity,
its presence like a spectre hanging over the forest.
Sleep became an elusive friend. Each time I closed my eyes, I
was back in the forest, under the gaze of those glowing eyes,
surrounded by the alien whispers.
I woke up each night drenched in sweat, my heart pounding.
The echoes of the entity's voice still ringing in my ears.
I knew then that I could no longer continue as a park
Ranger. The forest, once my sanctuary,
was now a symbol of my deepest fears.
The thought of stepping into its depths, of feeling the entities
gaze on me. It was too much to bear.
So I quit my job. I left the park, the forest, and
moved as far away as I could. I traded the vast wilderness for
the bustling city, the ominous silence for the constant noise.
The ancient trees for towering buildings.
It was a painful decision, a tearing away from a part of my
soul, but it was a necessary one.
I often wonder about Lisa, about what she saw, what she felt.
Did she encounter the entity? Was she as terrified as I was?
I wish I could have done more, could have saved her.
But in the face of the inexplicable terror, my courage
had failed me. The memory of the entity, its
glowing eyes, its powerful presence, it haunts me to this
day. I am a prisoner of my own fear,
trapped in a nightmare that refuses to end the forest, the
entity. It is a part of me now, a
chilling reminder of the night that changed my life forever.
Moving to the city didn't help as much as I'd hoped.
The towering buildings, the constant noise, the ceaseless
bustle, they were all alien to me.
I felt like a man out of time, lost in a world that was too
loud, too fast, too different. But it was still better than the
forest. Better than the haunting gaze of
the entity, my nights remained, plagued with nightmares.
The entity was always there, It's glowing eyes watching me.
It's cryptic whispers echoing in my ears.
I'd wake up gasping for breath, the terror of the encounter
still raw, still fresh. It's been years since that
fateful night, since I left the park and moved to the city, I've
grown used to the concrete jungle, the human made
wilderness, But I've never gotten over the fear, the dread
that lurks in the back of my mind.
One day, while strolling through a City Park, I saw a group of
children playing near a small Grove of trees.
The sight of the trees, their leaves rustling in the wind,
sent a shiver down my spine. I could almost feel the entities
presence, the familiar sense of watchfulness.
I quickly left the park, my heart pounding, my palms sweaty.
Even the smallest Grove was enough to trigger my fear, to
send me spiraling back into the terror of that night.
I realized then that I would never escape the Entity.
Not truly. There are nights when I lie
awake, the city's noise a muted backdrop to my thoughts.
I think about the forest, the entity, the mysteries that lurk
within the wilderness. I wonder if it's still there,
still watching, still waiting. I know that I can never go back,
never face the Entity again. The forest was my home, my
sanctuary. But it's also my greatest fear.
A haunting reminder of the terror that lies beneath the
serene facade of nature. I sometimes receive letters from
my former colleagues. Updates about the park, about
the forest they found more missing hikers, more signs of
struggle, more unsolved mysteries.
Each letter is a chilling reminder of my encounter of the
terror that I left behind. The last letter contained a
photograph. It was an image of the forest.
Taken near the place where I had encountered the entity, there,
in the depths of the wilderness, caught in the camera's flash,
were two glowing eyes, watching, waiting.
The image sent a jolt of fear through me, the memory of the
encounter flooding back with an intensity that took my breath
away. I could almost hear the whispers
feel the entity's gaze on me. It was a chilling reminder that
the entity was still there, still watching.
I know now that I can never escape the entity, never escape
the forest. Even here, in the heart of the
city, I can feel it. Its presence is a constant
specter, a chilling shadow that haunts my every moment.
I am forever marked by the entity, forever haunted by the
terror of the forest. As I look out at the city
skyline, the forest memory looms in my mind, a reminder of the
terror that lurks in the wilderness, the ancient entity
that watches and waits. My sanctuary, my home is now my
forever nightmare. Never did I imagine that the
forest I considered a second home could become my own
personal nightmare. The day started, like any other
adventure into the Appalachian Mountains.
The sun was shining, the sky and expanse of brilliant blue.
And the leaves rustled like a hushed lullaby on the summer
breeze. Duke, my trusty German Shepherd,
was beside me, his tongue lolling out in anticipation of
our venture into the wild. As an off duty park Ranger, I
love these trips. They gave me a chance to forget
the demanding nature of my job and reconnect with the serenity
of the wilderness. I'd camped in these mountains
countless times before, but this time it was different.
It was just Duke and me. Two adventurers eager for some
solitude and the embrace of nature, I made the drive up to
our usual spot, the tires of my trusty truck crunching over the
gravel, Rd. unloading our gear, I couldn't help but feel a sense
of peace. I took a moment, drinking in the
vibrant greenery around me, the scent of pine and earth, the
distant burble of a Creek. I've always found something
therapeutic about being out here, away from the bustle of
everyday life. Duke, as always, was a bundle of
energy. He dashed around, sniffing
excitedly at bushes and trees, marking our arrival.
The sight of him, so happy and carefree, brought a smile to my
face. Slow down, boy, I called out to
him, but my admonishment was swallowed by the expanse, my
voice echoing softly against the distant mountains.
Setting up camp was second nature to me.
With practiced ease, I pitched our tent on a patch of flat
ground near a clear, bubbling stream.
I arranged the rest of our gear, double checking everything was
in order before rewarding myself with a break.
I cracked open a beer, took a long swig, and watched as Duke
splashed about in the stream. Night fell gradually, the
setting sun painting the sky in hues of pink and orange before
surrendering to the encroaching darkness.
I built a campfire, it's warm glow pushing back against the
night. Duke settled in next to me, his
wet coat steaming slightly in the fire's warmth.
The comforting crackle of the fire filled the silence, a
melody as familiar as an old song.
As I looked out into the darkening forest, its shadows
deepening with the waning light, I felt a strange unease.
I shrugged it off, attributing it to the solitude and the
encroaching night. Little did I know then that this
journey would take a turn for the terrifying.
That these familiar woods would soon become a maze of fear.
I remember those last moments of peace, the calm before the storm
before I drifted off to sleep. Duke, my loyal companion, lay
close, his rhythmic breathing a comforting lullaby.
The forest whispered its nighttime secrets, the stars
above twinkling like 1000 watchful eyes.
Yet in that peaceful silence, a hint of our upcoming ordeal
echoed ominously if I'd known what awaited us.
Would I have packed up and left that very night?
But of course. The future was a mystery then,
obscured by the veil of the unknown.
Unaware of the nightmares that awaited us, Duke and I fell
asleep to the Symphony of the wild, blissfully ignorant of the
horrors the following days held. Morning broke with a strange
stillness, the usual chorus of birdsong muted, as if the
wilderness itself was holding its breath.
The first pangs of unease fluttered in my gut, but I shook
it off. Blaming it on a rough night's
sleep, I went about my morning routine, brewing strong coffee
over the campfire and sharing breakfast with Duke, who seemed
his usual energetic self. Yet as the day unfolded, an odd
disquiet seeped into my bones. Time felt distorted, Elastic
hours seemed to compress into minutes.
One moment the sun was high in the sky, casting long dappled
shadows through the canopy, and the next, the afternoon was
already waning. The cool breeze rustling through
the trees, I tried to ignore the unsettling sensation,
attributing it to my solo sojourn and the strange rhythm
of the wilderness. But as the day wore on, the
feeling persisted. An hour long hike felt like
minutes, while moments of idle rest stretched out, seemingly
endless. As the disconcerting day gave
way to twilight, I found another enigma waiting.
My meticulously organized camping gear was displaced.
Items moved or missing entirely. My map and compass, which I'd
placed inside my backpack, were found outside, near the edge of
our camp. A pod I'd used to heat our
dinner was missing, only to be discovered later, filled with
rainwater some distance away from our site.
Duke, who usually dozed through the afternoons, was unusually
alert, His ears perked up, his gaze constantly flitting towards
the dense undergrowth. The sight of him, usually so
carefree, now riddled with anxiety, unsettled me more than
I cared to admit. The nightfall was eerie, the
forest unnaturally silent. I cooked a simple meal, my
thoughts racing, my heart beating and anxious rhythm in my
chest. I considered leaving, but the
thought of navigating the treacherous mountain roads at
night kept me rooted later, as I lay under the canvas of the
tent. The darkness pressing in from
all sides. An unfamiliar sound echoed in
the distance, a low hum pulsating, seeming to originate
from the depths of the forest. It was a sound alien to the
usual Symphony of the wilderness, chilling me to my
core. Duke stiffened beside me, a low
growl rumbling in his chest. I told myself that it was just
the wind, the rustling of leaves, anything but the
haunting drone that seemed to reverberate through the very
ground beneath us. My own reassurances fell flat,
the sound continuing unabated, a spectral echo in the quiet
night. As the surreal day gave way to
an even stranger night, the reality of my situation began to
set in. I was alone, lost in an
unfamiliar version of my beloved wilderness, with only my
faithful dog for company as the strange sound filled the night,
its rhythm matching the pounding fear in my heart.
I realized that the solitude I had sought was morphing into a
terrifying isolation. I spent the rest of the night in
a fitful sleep, the haunting hum a constant undertone to my
troubled dreams, the image of my displaced gear and Dukes.
Anxious demeanor haunted me. The forest whispers growing
louder, more insidious. Unbeknownst to me, then, this
was just the beginning, the first strains of a nightmare
that would plunge me and Duke into a horrifying ordeal.
Forever changing our perception of the wilderness we once
considered home, each day brought more confusion, my
perception of time growing increasingly distorted.
The pulsating hum from the heart of the forest became a nightly
terror and unyielding rhythm that reverberated in my bones,
filling my dreams with a sense of impending doom.
Even Duke, brave and stalwart as always, had become a shadow of
his former self, his eyes once filled with playful curiosity.
Were now clouded with a palpable fear.
I tried to convince myself that it was all in my mind, a figment
of my imagination, a consequence of solitude.
After all, I was a seasoned park Ranger, a man of the wilderness.
I was familiar with every nook and cranny of these mountains,
every animal that prowled these woods.
But the displaced gear, the unsettling hum, the warping time
Duke, strange behavior, none of it fit the pattern of my past
experiences. No natural explanation seemed to
quell the terror brewing inside me.
I was in my territory, yet it felt alien, as if the wilderness
itself was turning against me. One morning I awoke to find Duke
rigid with fear, his first standing on end, his eyes
trained on the dense forest. I strained my ears, expecting to
hear the eerie hum, but instead a shuffling noise came from the
undergrowth, too heavy to be just the wind rustling the
leaves. I grabbed my flashlight.
It's beam piercing the early morning fog, but there was
nothing there, just the dense forest shrouded in a deceptive
calm. The hum returned that night more
ominous than ever, as if mocking my attempts at reasoning.
During the following days, I tried to carry on as normal, but
the strange occurrences continued.
Items were displaced more frequently.
Duke's agitation escalated. And the ominous hum became a
haunting serenade to the nightmare that was unfolding
around me. As a park Ranger, I had my share
of frightening encounters. Poachers, wildlife, harsh
weather. But this was different.
This fear was not of a known danger, but an unseen, unheard,
unfathomable presence that seemed to cloak the forest.
This fear nawed at my sanity, kept me up at night, and made me
dread the approaching darkness. Every night was a battle.
A struggle to make sense of the unknown, terror that gripped me.
The once comforting isolation had turned into an oppressive
solitude. Duke and I were on edge, our
nerves frayed, the tension a heavy shroud wrapped around our
little campsite. But nothing could have prepared
me for what happened next. The terrifying ordeal that was
about to unfold was beyond anything I had ever faced in my
life. It was a nightmare from which
there was no waking, a horror that no amount of training could
have prepared me for. As I stoked the dying embers of
our campfire one night and otherworldly presence descended
upon our camp and unspeakable terror that would confirm my
worst fears and leave me questioning everything I thought
I knew about the wilderness. Little did I know that the
pulsating hum that filled our nights, Dukes growing
restlessness and the strange happenings were merely the
overture to an encounter that would send us fleeing into the
depths of the forest, our very lives hanging in the balance.
The night was black as pitch, the fire our only source of
light against the enveloping darkness.
The humming had grown louder, more insistent, A haunting dirge
echoing through the desolate forest.
Duke lay by my side, his body tense, every fiber of his being
attuned to the unseen menace. The fear was a living, breathing
entity now, wrapping its cold tendrils around my heart.
Squeezing tighter with every beat, I found myself staring
into the shadows. My mind churning with horrifying
possibilities, my rational side fought to regain control, yet
the mounting evidence was hard to ignore.
Suddenly Duke growled a deep, guttural sound that sent chills
down my spine. His gaze was fixed on a spot
just beyond our fire lit sanctuary.
I followed his gaze, my heart pounding a brutal rhythm in my
chest. There, on the edge of the light,
something moved, an indistinct shape that was too large to be
any regular forest inhabitant. I scrambled for my flashlight,
its feeble beam cutting through the darkness, but the light only
served to deepen the shadows, the creature lurking just beyond
its reach. I could hear it moving, the
rustling of leaves, the snapping of twigs under its weight as if
it sensed my fear. The creature stepped into the
light, its form clearer than I would have liked.
It was unlike anything I had ever seen, a twisted fusion of
man and beast, its eyes glowing in eerie green.
The sight of it, this perversion of nature, drained the blood
from my face, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, A feeble protest
against the unimaginable horror before me.
Duke barked furiously, his usual courage wavering in the face of
the monstrosity. The creature responded with a
gut wrenching roar, the sound echoing in the silent night
drowning out the omnipresent hum.
Panic took over, obliterating any semblance of reason.
I scooped up Duke and bolted, the flashlight dropping from my
grasp, plunging our world Into Darkness.
The terrifying roar followed us, a grotesque serenade to our
desperate flight. The forest, once my haven,
turned into a nightmarish labyrinth.
Branches reached out like gnarled hands clawing at my face
and clothes, rocks and roots emerged out of nowhere, tripping
me up. But I couldn't afford to slow
down, not with the monstrous presence hot on our heels.
The fire, our camp, our gear, all were left behind in the
chaos. My only thoughts were of escape,
of getting as far away from the creature as possible.
The forest closed in around me, an impenetrable wall of shadows
and fear. Driven by sheer terror, Duke and
I ran. We plunged deeper into the
forest, our world reduced to the chilling roars of the creature
and the thudding of our own hearts.
As we ventured further into the unknown, I couldn't help but
realize that we were not just running from a creature.
We were running from the realization that our beloved
wilderness had been transformed into a terrifying realm of the
unknown, a place where nightmares came to life.
Days and nights blurred into a relentless cycle of fear and
exhaustion. The wilderness was no longer a
familiar sanctuary. It was a twisted maze of
haunting echoes and lurking shadows.
Each rustle in the undergrowth was the creature closing in.
Every unexpected sound was a signal of our impending doom.
The creature thankfully seemed to have lost our trail, but the
damage was done. The pulsating hum was replaced
by a chilling silence that was just as unnerving.
The disorientation was severe. I tried to navigate by the
stars, my Ranger training kicking in, but the dense canopy
above offered little assistance. Duke and I moved as stealthily
as possible, driven by an instinctive will to survive.
Our days were spent in a haze of fear.
Our nights filled with disturbing dreams and jolts of
panic. Our only sustenance was the few
edible berries and plants I could identify, and the
occasional small game I managed to snare.
Eventually, after what felt like weeks but could have been days,
we emerged on the other side of the forest.
The site of an open Rd. slicing through the greenery was more
beautiful than any mountain Vista I had ever encountered.
Relief washed over me, a palpable force that left me weak
need. Duke seemed to share my
sentiment, his tail wagging for the first time in days.
We staggered onto the road, our bodies battered, our spirits
barely holding on. I tried to wave down the first
vehicle I saw, but the driver, probably spooked by my
disheveled appearance, speed away.
My heart sank, but I gathered what little energy I had left
and prepared to try again. The next car, however, was a
different story. The driver, a middle-aged man
with kind eyes. Pulled over and rolled down his
window. After explaining our predicament
in a hoarse whisper, he readily agreed to take us back to my
vehicle. The drive back was a surreal
experience. Sitting in the passenger seat
with Dukes head resting on my lap, I watched the familiar
landscapes whiz by, a stark contrast to the alien nightmare
we had just escaped from. When we reached my parked
vehicle, I thank the driver profusely, promising to pay his
kindness forward. As Duke and I climbed into the
car, the man gave us a sympathetic smile and drove
away. As I turned the key in the
ignition, I took a moment to process everything we had gone
through. The safety of the car felt like
a cocoon, shielding us from the horror we had left behind.
I stared at the rearview mirror, half expecting to see the
creature emerge from the forest, but there was nothing, just the
whispering trees swaying in the breeze.
We drove away in silence. The echoing roar of the creature
still ringing in my ears, a chilling reminder of the
nightmare we had survived. The hum may have subsided, the
displaced gear was now a distant memory, but the terrifying
creature and its haunting presence were forever seared
into my consciousness. Little did I know that the
horror wasn't over, not by a long shot.
The most chilling revelation was yet to come.
I returned to my cabin at the edge of the park, a safe haven I
never thought I'd see again. Duke and I were silent wrecks,
our minds grappling with the terrifying ordeal we had barely
survived. The comfort of a hot shower and
a soft bed seemed a world away from the nightmare we had fled.
After ensuring Duke was settled in, I ventured out to report my
encounter to the local authorities.
The disbelief was palpable as I recounted my experience.
The creature, the hum, the displaced gear.
I had expected skepticism, but the outright dismissal stung.
Days turned into weeks, but the memories of the creature in the
forest were as fresh as ever. Duke and I were forever altered
by the experience, our once adventurous spirits replaced by
a lingering dread. But the most terrifying part was
yet to come. One night, as I lay tossing and
turning, a familiar sound pierced the silence, the hum.
It was faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably
the same ominous sound that it haunted our camping expedition.
A cold fear gripped my heart. Duke's low growl confirmed my
worst fears. I shot up in bed, my eyes
scanning the darkness outside the window.
But there was nothing. Just the quiet, isolated
landscape bathed in moonlight. But the hum persisted, a
spectral Symphony to my spiraling terror.
That's when I noticed it. The flashlight, the same when I
had dropped in our panicked flight, was lying on my bedside
table. Its presence was impossible.
A chilling testament to the inescapable horror that had
followed us back. The forest, the creature, the
terrifying ordeal. It was all right here, in my
supposed safe haven. The familiar objects in the
cabin suddenly felt alien, menacing.
I glanced at Duke, his eyes mirroring my fear.
We were not safe. We had not escaped.
The nightmare was not confined to the wilderness.
It had followed us back, marking our existence with its
horrifying presence. That night sleep eluded me.
The hum seemed to grow louder with each passing minute, an
ominous lullaby for the dawn that never seemed to come.
The cabin, once my refuge, was now just another scene in the
terrifying narrative that was my life.
The subsequent days were a blur of sleepless nights and paranoia
filled days. The hum persisted, a constant
reminder of the creature lurking in the shadows of my mind.
The flashlight, despite my several attempts to dispose of
it, always found its way back. As I pen down these words, the
hum resonates around me, a soundtrack to my living
nightmare. The flashlight flickers, casting
eerie shadows around the room. Duke, my loyal companion, cowers
by my side, his eyes never leaving the window.
The wilderness has followed us back.
The creature, the terror, the fear.
They are all here, shrouded in the seemingly mundane
surroundings of my home. There is no escape from this
nightmare, no waking up to a bright and sunny day.
Our tale doesn't end with a triumphant return.
It continues in this never ending horror that is our
reality. This is our life now, forever
trapped in a terrifying echo of that fateful camping trip in the
heart of the Appalachian Mountains.