Being stalked in the night is horrifying.
I've read and heard enough stories over the years that I am
almost desensitized to the notion of being stalked.
I say that now, but I'm sure if I was being chased by some crazy
man, I would probably jump out of my skin.
I will say though that I know first hand what it's like to be
potentially staring death in the face And that, my friends, is
the most terrifying thing on the planet.
It's not always the knife wielding maniac you need to be
afraid of. Trust me.
Last year I decided to rent this little cottage that was
practically in the middle of nowhere.
I don't love people and I hate the city, so I just wanted to
get away and live in nature for a little while, listening to the
trees, the wind and the wildlife.
This place was adorable and it's wilderness location was perfect.
I was in the mountains, but I still had all the afternoon sun.
It was as close to heaven as I've ever been up in these
parts. It's not uncommon to see
wildlife come near your cottage, like deer or even bears in some
cases. A few weeks ago a couple of
bears came and actually tried to get some food out of my cottage,
but they were unsuccessful. I wasn't scared, I was actually
excited. I got some cute videos that I'll
be able to enjoy for the rest of my life.
However, one night at the cottage things got bad.
I may have accidentally drunk a little too much, and as a result
I passed out on the recliner in the main room.
Just to give you an idea of the size of this place, it had a
small kitchen, much like you would find in a typical
apartment. Then it was just one main room
with a recliner, a small chair, and a table with a bed in the
back. On the backside was a little
bathroom with a walk in overhead shower.
In other words, two people could not live in this cottage.
Because I had drunk too much. I forgot to lock the door, which
wasn't a huge deal because this place was in the middle of
nowhere. It was more of a comfort thing.
I like to lock the door. It doesn't matter where I am, I
just like the idea of the door being locked while I'm asleep.
Well, my nightmare was about to come true because I woke up to
the sound of things smashing and breaking coming from the
kitchen, which was where the door to the cottage was located.
I thought I was being punished for the one time in my life that
I didn't lock the door and just my luck that I would have an
intruder in the middle of nowhere.
I grabbed my pocket knife and snuck to the doorway.
Let me tell you, I wish it was an intruder, but let me rephrase
that. I wish it was a human intruder
in the kitchen going nuts, digging through the trash, and
the food that I had in the fridge was a fully grown
Mountain Lion. Its tail was whipping back and
forth, and it was making this horrible guttural growling
noise. I didn't know if it was a
territorial display or if this thing was ready to rip my face
off. Either way, I didn't want to
take that chance. I jumped back on the other side
of the wall and tried to figure out how I was going to escape
this situation. In the little bathroom, there
was a small window that I was sure I could climb out of, but I
was too scared to make any noises for fear that this giant
cat would hear me. The more the Mountain Lion
growled, the more scared I became.
Finally, I made a run for the bathroom.
The cat heard me. You want to hear something
scary? YouTube.
The sound of a Mountain Lion growling.
Now imagine that just a few feet away from you.
It was one of the worst things I've ever heard.
As I ran to the bathroom, I slid the door shut and I heard the
Mountain Lion jump into the main room.
Of course, the bathroom didn't have a real door.
It just had one of those sliding doors.
I was holding it as tightly as I could, trying to think of a way
out of this predicament. While I was holding the door,
the Mountain Lion started to ram its head or something into the
door. I was screaming, which I'm sure
was making the cat even more tense.
For once the small bathroom came in handy.
I was able to hold the door shut with one hand and reach across
to open the window. I didn't care about the deposit,
so I kicked out the screen and in one fell swoop I dove out the
window. As soon as I let go of the door,
the Mountain Lion was able to open it.
All I remember seeing was this vicious looking head growling as
I tried to jump out the window, but it couldn't or didn't, and I
ran to my car, which was thankfully unlocked and got in
the car and locked the doors. I didn't have my keys so I
couldn't drive anywhere, but at least I could lock the doors.
I did actually eventually see the Mountain Lion come out of
the cottage about an hour later and walk around the car.
For a while, that scary cat continued to make these low
guttural sounds and even bared its teeth at times.
At around dawn, the Mountain Lion finally retreated somewhere
and was gone for a while before I left the car.
I rushed into the cottage and the place was destroyed.
I grabbed my keys and my phone and drove into town.
I called the property owner and the guy somehow laughed.
I had just had the worst night of my life with an animal that I
thought was going to rip my throat open and this guy was
laughing and basically just telling me, Yep, that can happen
around here. In case you couldn't tell, I
left that day. And yeah, I had to pay for the
damages because you've got to love those contracts.
But Needless to say, nature is no joke.
That was undoubtedly the worst experience of my life, and I
wouldn't wish that on anyone except maybe that property
owner. I'm just kidding.
But I've since found a boyfriend and I've got to be honest, I
don't love being alone anymore. Maybe I'm getting older.
Maybe this experience rocked me to my core.
The only thing I can say for absolute certainty now is that I
am most definitely a dog person. I remember that fateful day when
I decided to venture into the Pecos de Europa National Park.
The allure of its lush forests, crystal clear lakes and majestic
snow capped mountains had always captivated me.
Despite the ominous warnings that accompanied every visitor's
arrival, this rugged northern Spanish region of Cantabria held
a beauty that was as enchanting as it was treacherous,
especially during the unforgiving winter months.
Winter here had a cruel streak. Freak snowstorms would descend
upon the park, turning the temperate landscape into a
frigid nightmare. The mercury would plummet into
the mid 30s and each winter brought a somber tally of
fatalities and missing persons. It was a place where nature
could be as ruthless as it was breathtaking.
Yet the perils of the Picos de Europa extended beyond just the
weather. The park was home to the
Cantabrian brown bears, whose population had thrived following
the ban on their hunting in the early 70s.
These bears were not known for aggression towards humans, but
sharing their habitat were wolves and wild boars, creatures
that could become deadly threats to anyone in the wrong place at
the wrong time. Cantabria wasn't just famous for
its wild, natural beauty, it was also the backdrop for a decade's
long mystery that had recently seen a surprising resolution,
though it had raised more questions than it answered.
In 1945, a man named Eloy Tiglio Perez worked as a forest Ranger
in the Picos de Europa National Park.
He also held the unique position of being the elected mayor of
the nearby town of Sures, renowned for its Queso de
Cabrales, a type of blue cheese matured in the limestone caves
dotting the surrounding mountains, Eloy's life was far
from peaceful or happy. The scars of the Spanish Civil
War 1936 through 1939 still ran deep.
General Franco had emerged as the victor, imposing his fascist
rule over the nation. Many Republicans, including some
of Eloy's friends and relatives, sought refuge in the remote
wilderness areas like the Picos de Europa Alloy.
Straddling the line between loyalty to his fascist overlords
and his ties to these resistance fighters, walked a treacherous
path. He knew that betraying his
country or his friends would spell his doom.
However, tensions escalated as the global political landscape
shifted after World War 2. Stalin's declaration of
continued global revolution breathed new life into Marxist
insurgents, including those in the Picos de Europa.
They ambushed the Spanish Civil Guard with increasing frequency
and even sought to produce explosive materials, putting
sures at risk. To avert a wider conflict that
could endanger his town, Eloy arranged a secret meeting with
an old friend, Juan Fernandez Ayala, A prominent leader among
the resistance fighters. On a tense Sunday in April 1945,
deep in the Wilds of the Picos de Europa, Eloy met Juan and his
comrades at an abandoned villa reclaimed by nature.
As Eloy pleaded for restraint and an end to the violence, they
heard footsteps approaching. Eloy had confided in a fellow
park Ranger about the meeting, a man he trusted, but that trust
was misplaced. That Ranger had betrayed Eloy to
the Spanish Civil Guard. The footsteps outside belong to
a heavily armed troop of civil guards intent on slaughtering
those at the meeting. However, the resistance
fighters, familiar with their chosen meeting place, staged a
near perfect ambush. They swiftly dispatched 2 of the
fascists and forced the rest into a hasty retreat.
Before fleeing themselves, they looted the bodies of their
fallen enemies. Eloy ran back to sewers and the
victorious gorillas vanished into the mountains.
Hiding in a network of secret encampments, Eloy awaited the
inevitable knock on his door, knowing that someone would come
for him. When that knock finally came, it
was Juan who stood at the doorstep.
Come with me, Juan said, and Eloy followed his old friend
into a web of secrets and danger.
The aftermath of the firefight revealed a startling find among
the lute from the Civil Guards. There was a note that implicated
Eloy's fellow park Ranger, Alfonso Martinez, as the
informant. Although Alfonso had not named
Eloy in his report to the police, the small number of Park
Rangers in the Picos de Europa made it clear who the primary
source was. Eloy's life took a dark turn on
April 24th, 1945 when he was taken up into the mountains to a
top secret gorilla headquarters. Intense interrogations followed
and the truth of what happened next remains shrouded in
speculation. Some accounts suggest that Eloy
was executed by a single gunshot.
Others claim that Juan led him to believe he was forgiven for
his transgressions before that fatal shot rang out.
In the years that followed, Eloy's relatives searched
tirelessly for his body, but it was never found.
It seemed he had vanished without a trace.
Then, in the summer of 2018, a team of professional cavers
embarked on a mission to explore the labyrinthine underground
passages of the Pecos de Europa. Their goal was to find the
remains of those who had disappeared during the Spanish
Civil War and its aftermath. Descending almost 200 meters
below the Earth's surface into the Tor de Taupo Cave, they
embarked on a painstaking search for any trace of human remains.
Their efforts were soon rewarded when they discovered bones
buried in mud and debris. DNA analysis confirmed that
these were the remains of Eloy Chilo Perez.
News of the discovery reached Eloy's daughter Mercedes, who
made the arduous journey to her father's final resting place,
camping near The Cave entrance as investigators continued their
work. The cause of Elloy's death was
determined to be a gunshot wound from a 9 millimeter Astra 400
handgun, the same type of pistol found in Juan's possession when
he met his own violent end in 1957.
But there was another unsettling discovery during the
investigation. Alongside Elloy's remains, the
cavers found the scattered bones of a young girl aged 10 to 14,
who had perished between 5 and 15 years after Eloy.
The mystery deepened as investigators struggled to
determine her identity and the circumstances of her death.
Doctor Fernando Culia, A renowned forensic
anthropologist, joined the investigation.
Her analysis suggested that the girl had not come from a low
income rural family as previously thought, but likely
hailed from the Cantabrian coast.
Despite efforts to reconstruct her appearance and appeal for
information, her identity remained elusive.
As investigators delve deeper into the case, they uncovered a
hidden community of people who had disappeared into the remote
mountains, living off the grid to escape the clutches of
Franco's regime. These individuals had built
their own clandestine lives, making any involvement with
outside authorities unthinkable. The circumstances surrounding
the girl's death remained enigmatic.
Only a portion of her skeleton showed signs of high energy
impact damage, raising questions about the true 'cause of her
demise. Some believed her death was
entirely accidental, resulting from a fall into The Cave.
Others speculated that she had been murdered and carefully
placed in The Cave. As of June 2022, the identity of
the Tor de Taupo John Doe remains a mystery.
Spanish authorities continue to search for answers, but the
chances of resolving this cold case are slim.
Her DNA has been uploaded to the Phoenix Database, a project
aimed at solving such mysteries. Eloy Chilio Perez was finally
laid to rest in the ancient cemetery of Surreys, his
daughter Mercedes, ensuring that he was reunited with his remains
after so many years. The Tor de Topor Jando was
buried beside him, as they had spent decades together in the
dark depths of The Cave, and she too deserved a final resting
place, their stories once shrouded in mystery.
We're now entwined in the annals of the Picos de Europa, a place
as beautiful as it was haunting. The night was unusually still in
the State Park, The kind of stillness that makes your skin
crawl, the kind that makes you think the woods are holding
their breath. I've patrolled these grounds for
15 years, but that night something was different.
There was a tension in the air, a whisper among the trees that I
couldn't quite make out. I'm no stranger to the night
shift, but this felt like walking into a different world,
a world that wasn't quite right. As I made my way through the
familiar trails, checking the campsites, my flashlight was the
only thing piercing the darkness.
I've seen my share of wildlife and campers breaking rules, but
nothing could have prepared me for what I stumbled upon that
night. In a small clearing.
The beam of my light fell upon the remains of a bear.
Not just any bear, but one that looked like it had gone through
a war. It was mauled, torn apart by
something bigger, something more ferocious.
The sight sent a chill down my spine.
I crouched down beside the bear, examining the scene.
This wasn't the work of another bear or a pack of wolves.
No, the ferocity of the attack, the sheer power it must have
taken to do this. It was something else, something
I couldn't explain. I pulled out my camera,
documenting the scene. My hands were steady, trained by
years of experience, but my mind was racing.
A part of me wanted to radio this in call for backup.
But another part, the part that's seen things in these
woods that don't make it to the official reports told me to
wait. That's when I saw it.
A shadow moving in the trees. At first I thought it was a
deer, maybe a buck drawn by the scent of blood.
But as I focused, I realized this was no deer.
The figure that emerged from the shadows was something of
nightmares. It stood on 2 legs like a man,
but its face, oh God, its face was that of a deer.
But not a peaceful, gentle deer. This one had eyes that glowed
red in the dark and teeth that seem too sharp, too vicious for
any creature I knew. I stood frozen, my heart
pounding in my chest. Fear, like I'd never known,
washed over me. This thing, whatever it was,
wasn't natural. It wasn't right, and it was
looking right at me. We stood there, locked in a
moment that felt like an eternity.
Then, with a growl that sounded like it came from the depths of
hell itself, it lunged. I don't know how I moved, how I
managed to dodge it. My training, my instincts, they
all kicked in. I ran, not looking back, not
daring to. I could hear it behind me.
It's heavy footsteps. It's labored breathing, but as
quickly as it had attacked, it vanished.
I didn't stop running until I reached my truck, my safe haven
in these woods. Sitting there with the engine
running and the creature nowhere.
Insight. I couldn't shake the feeling
that it was still watching me, that it had let me go.
But why? What was it?
My mind raced with questions, but I knew one thing for sure.
The park, these woods. They were hiding something and I
needed to find out what the days following the encounter were
like. Walking through a fog.
I kept telling myself it was just a bear, a sick one, maybe
distorted by the shadows and my fear.
But deep down I knew it was a lie.
I knew what I saw, and it wasn't anything that belonged in the
natural world. I could still feel it's hot
breath, see those glowing red eyes when I closed mine.
Sleep became a stranger in the woods that had been my refuge
for 15 years now. Felt like a prison.
I kept to my routine, patrolling the park, but every rustle in
the underbrush, every snapping twig sent a jolt of fear through
me. I was a park Ranger, trained to
protect these lands and the people who came to enjoy them.
But how do you protect against something that shouldn't exist?
Then it happened again. I was walking a familiar trail,
the sun just dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows
among the trees. That's when I heard it, a low
growl barely audible over the rustling leaves.
My heart stopped. I turned slowly, flashlight
trembling in my hand. There it was, standing at the
edge of the clearing, the creature from that night, its
eyes burning holes in the twilight.
This wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't a trick of the light.
It was real, and it was here. I don't know what drove me to
stand my ground. Maybe it was fear.
Maybe it was defiance. Or maybe I just knew there was
nowhere to run. We stared at each other,
predator and prey caught in a deadly dance.
Then, with a speed that defied its size, it charged.
I dove to the side, feeling its claws graze my jacket.
I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding, and ran.
I could hear it behind me. It's heavy breathing.
It's thunderous steps. I pushed myself harder than I
ever had, branches whipping my face, roots threatening to trip
me. I don't know how, but I made it
back to my truck. The creature didn't follow me
into the open, but that didn't bring any relief.
It was still out there, watching, waiting.
I sat in my truck, breathing hard, trying to make sense of it
all. But there was no sense to be
made. I was dealing with something
beyond my understanding, something ancient and
terrifying. The next few days were a blur.
I reported the mauling, but not the creature who would believe
me. I was a respected Ranger, not
some tabloid sensationalist, but keeping it to myself only made
it worse. The isolation, the constant
looking over my shoulder. It was taking its toll.
I started researching. Digging through old records,
anything that might tell me what I was dealing with.
That's when I found it. A newspaper clipping from the
1950s. Loggers gone missing.
Strange sightings in the woods. The descriptions matched what I
saw. I wasn't alone.
This thing had been here before, and now it was back.
But why? What did it want?
And most importantly, how could I stop it?
These questions haunted me day and night.
I knew I couldn't let it go. I had to find answers not just
for my Peace of Mind, but for the safety of everyone who
called this park home. The creature had shown me mercy
twice. I couldn't count on 1/3.
I've always believed that the past holds the keys to
understanding the present, so in the wake of my terrifying
encounters, I turned to the parks archives.
The musty smell of old paper and forgotten stories was a welcome
change from the oppressive tension of the woods.
I scoured through old reports, maps and newspaper clippings,
searching for any clue that might shed light on the creature
haunting my every waking moment. The breakthrough came with a
brittle newspaper article from the 1950s.
It told a chilling tale of a group of loggers who had
disappeared in these very woods. The article was vague, tinged
with the skepticism of the time, But one detail caught my eye,
reports of strange creatures seen in the area shortly before
the loggers vanished. The description was eerily
similar to the creature I had encountered, A grotesque blend
of man and deer with unnaturally glowing eyes.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I read this wasn't just some
isolated incident, some fluke of nature.
This creature, or creatures like it had been here before.
It was a part of this park's history, a dark, hidden chapter
that had somehow been forgotten or perhaps conveniently ignored.
The more I dug, the more I found pushed up reports of missing
hikers, strange tracks that no one could identify, sightings of
bizarre creatures by campers who were quickly dismissed as having
overactive imaginations. It was like piercing together a
puzzle, each discovery revealing a little more of the horrifying
picture. I realized then that this
creature wasn't just some anomaly.
It was a part of this park as much as the trees and the
rivers. And like those natural elements,
it had its secrets, its ways of hiding from the prying eyes of
the modern world. But unlike the trees and the
rivers, it was dangerous, a threat that couldn't be ignored.
I spent sleepless nights pouring over every scrap of information
I could find, trying to understand what this creature
was, where it came from, and why it was here.
My colleagues started to notice the change in me.
I brushed off their concerns, saying it was just the stress of
the job, but I knew it was more than that.
I was obsessed, consumed by the need to uncover the truth.
Despite the mounting evidence, I still struggled with doubt.
Was I really on to something here, or was I just seeing
patterns where there were none? Was this just my way of coping
with the trauma of the attacks? These questions plagued me, but
I couldn't stop. I had to know.
As the pieces of the puzzle slowly came together, I realized
that I needed to go back to where it all started.
The clearing where I had first seen the creature.
I needed to face my fears, to confront the unknown.
I had no illusions about the danger.
I knew that I was risking my life, but the need for answers
was too strong. I couldn't turn back.
Now, armed with a camera and a flashlight, I set out for the
clearing one more time. I didn't know what I would find,
but I was determined to uncover the truth no matter what it
took. The park had always been my
home, but now it felt like I was venturing into the heart of
darkness. The decision to return to that
clearing was like signing my own death warrant.
I knew it felt it in my bones, but I couldn't turn away the
park once my sanctuary had become a labyrinth of shadows
and secrets, with that creature lurking just beyond the reach of
my flashlight. As the sun went down, painting
the sky in hues of orange and purple, I found myself walking
the familiar path back to where my nightmare had begun.
The air was thick with the scent of pine and impending rain, a
smell I'd always associated with peace now twisted into a
harbinger of something sinister. I reached the clearing, the
scene eerily untouched since that night.
The bears remains were gone, likely scavenged by other
predators, but the memory of its mangled body was etched in my
mind. I scanned the area, camera in
hand, half expecting the creature to leap out from the
shadows. But there was only silence, the
kind that presses down on your eardrums.
With each step I venture deeper into the woods, guided by a mix
of dread and determination. That's when I stumbled upon it.
A hidden cave tucked away behind a large boulder.
It was as if the earth itself had tried to conceal it, and
with good reason. The stench hit me first, a gut
wrenching mix of decay and damp earth.
My flashlight beam revealed the horrors within, bones scattered
across The Cave floor, some unmistakably human, the sights
and a shiver down my spine, a silent scream echoing in my
skull. This wasn't just a den, it was a
graveyard. My mind screamed to turn and
run, but my feet moved forward, as if drawn by a force beyond my
control. The air grew colder, the
darkness thicker. I could hear something in the
depths of The Cave, a soft, rhythmic breathing that seemed
to sink with my own. I should have left, then, should
have heeded the primal part of my brain, screaming danger.
But I was a park Ranger, trained to face the wilderness.
Only this was no ordinary wilderness.
This was something ancient, something malevolent.
As I crept further in, a sudden movement caught my attention.
Something shifted in the darkness, a shadow among
shadows. I barely had time to react when
something grabbed my ankle. I hit the ground hard, my
flashlight tumbling away, casting erratic shadows across
The Cave walls. Panic surged through me as I
felt whatever had hold of me dragging me deeper into The
Cave. I kicked and thrashed, fighting
against the unseen force. By some miracle, I broke free,
scrambling back toward the entrance, not daring to look
back. As I burst out of The Cave, the
night air felt like a slap across my face.
I didn't stop running until I was clear of the woods, my lungs
burning, my mind reeling. I had come seeking answers, but
all I found were more questions, more nightmares.
I drove away from that place, away from the park I had once
loved. The creature, The Cave, the
bones. They were a mystery I no longer
wanted to solve. I had seen enough, knew enough
to understand that some things are better left in the shadows.
The park was no longer my home. It was a hunting ground and I
was no longer the hunter but the haunted.
I sat at my kitchen table, the resignation letter in front of
me, the pen feeling like £1000 in my hand.
The words were there, clear and final, yet it felt like signing
it was admitting defeat, admitting that the woods, my
woods, had beaten me. But after what I had seen, what
I had experienced, staying was no longer an option.
The Park Rangers badge, once worn with pride, now felt like a
target on my chest. The days following my escape
from The Cave were a blur of sleepless nights and haunted
days. Every shadow seemed to hide A
danger, every noise a threat. I had seen the darkness that
lurked in the heart of the park, a darkness that no amount of
sunlight could dispel. The creature, with its glowing
red eyes and twisted form, was more than just a physical being.
It was a manifestation of fear, a living nightmare that had
etched itself into my soul. I thought about the bones in The
Cave, the stories of the missing loggers, the unexplained
disappearances over the years. It all pointed to a truth too
terrifying to accept that the creature was real, that it had
been here all along, praying on the unsuspecting, and I had been
blind to it. Lost in my own naive belief that
the park was a safe haven, a place of natural beauty and
peace, the realization was a bitter pill to swallow.
I had dedicated 15 years of my life to protecting this place,
to ensuring its safety for future generations.
But how do you protect people from a monster of legend?
How do you fight against a horror that defies explanation?
As I finally signed the letter, a sense of relief washed over
me, followed quickly by a wave of sorrow.
I was leaving behind a part of myself, a part that had been
forged in the wild beauty of the park.
But I was also leaving behind the fear, the nightmares, the
constant looking over my shoulder.
I handed in my resignation the next day, avoiding the questions
and concerned looks from my colleagues.
They didn't need to know the truth.
They wouldn't believe it anyway. It was better to leave them in
ignorance, to let them think I was just burned out in need of a
new start. As I drove away from the park
for the last time, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was
being watched. It was as if the creature, the
forest itself, was saying goodbye, or perhaps issuing a
warning. I knew I would never return,
that I would carry the memories of what I had seen with me for
the rest of my life. The open Rd. stretched out
before me, leading to a future unbound by the shadows of the
past. But in the rear view mirror the
park remained a dark silhouette against the setting sun.
It was a part of me, a chapter of my life that was closed but
never truly forgotten. The creature, whatever it was,
remained a mystery, a whisper in the woods that would haunt my
dreams for years to come. But one thing was certain.
I had survived. I had faced the darkness and
lived to tell the tale, and in that there was a small measure
of victory, a flicker of light in the overwhelming darkness.
Ever since I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to do was help
people. My mom used to say that even
when I was a kid, I'd be playing nurse with my dolls.
Then, as I grew into my teens, I was obsessed with General
Hospital and would binge watch Scrubs episodes back when DVD
box sets were a thing. During my last two years of high
school, some of my friends found themselves torn between two or
three options for college courses.
Not me. My answer was reflexive.
Every time I was asked nursing, I wanted to go into nursing.
After getting my SAT results, I obtained all the prerequisite
qualifications, chose a handful of schools and programs, and set
about applying. Once I was in, I just had to
keep myself financially afloat because I only had access to
limited financial aid. I had to find myself a part time
job, and after a week or two of scouring Craigslist, among other
places, I managed to find an almost perfect vacancy.
I'd rather not dox the place that I ended up working at, so I
won't use its actual name, but the place served as a kind of
Community Center for young adults with learning
difficulties. We didn't provide intensive or
emergency care to people with physical disabilities, and those
with more complex cases were referred to full time care
centers. But when it came to people who
were too functional to simply sit around at home, but not
functional enough to hold down a job, it was up to us to provide
them with a place that they could visit that would both
nurture and educate them. Honestly, it was the kind of
place that I would have been only too happy to volunteer at
if I wasn't being paid, but the flexible part time scheduling
made it ideal on so many levels. It would look great on my resume
and it made sense for them to hire someone with nursing
aspirations as I'd no doubt bring the same level of care to
the Community Center. Thankfully, the community
Center's management team agreed with that assessment, and when
they gave me the call to offer me the job, I was nothing less
than ecstatic. Obviously, my first couple of
days on the job were spent familiarizing myself with both
the layout of the Community Center as well as the center's
various members. Some visited on a daily basis,
staying from early in the morning till late in the
afternoon, whereas others stop by every so often, maybe a
couple of days a week. Basically, whenever their
parents needed someone to watch them, some members just hung
out, played pool, or watch TV, But there were others who needed
more than just light entertainment to keep them happy
and occupied. I was kind of surprised at first
when I saw a kid named Todd sweeping the parking lot along
with a member of the care team. I was a little concerned that he
was being roped into working for free, but I soon realized that
Todd just liked helping out. It made him feel useful, like he
was part of the team, and it meant the world to him to see us
smile and say things like great job Buddy and all that.
Once that was understood, well, I thought it was just about the
sweetest thing ever and it assuaged any concerns I had
about the members helping out with our work.
One of the other members who used to help out with the
day-to-day running of the place was a guy I'll just called Jake.
Jake was definitely one of the more functional of the guys who
stopped by the center, and he only did so maybe twice or three
times a week, weekends included. Being in his late 20s, he was a
little older than some of the other kids who were mostly high
school to college age, but he used to visit a lot more during
his younger years. By the time I got the job, he
liked to stop by after lunch to help out where he could, and he
often stayed until we closed up before walking or sometimes
jogging all the way home again. I was surprised when I first
heard that he walked or ran like 3 miles to and from the center
every time he wanted to visit. But there was no denying it was
good exercise, as Jake himself would tell you.
That's the thing about Jake. You could barely tell that he
had learning difficulties. You could be having a perfectly
normal conversation with him, and then out of nowhere he'd ask
you a question totally out of left field.
Sometimes you'd remember how he came to know the center so well
in the 1st place. For example, we were unloading
some egg pallets from a van just making small talk when he
suddenly asked me are all the eggs from chickens?
When I said sure, he replied. How do you know that?
I had to explain to him that I didn't actually know for certain
that they were all chicken eggs, but that the store operated on a
kind of trust system which would allow me to get my money back
for anything that wasn't a chicken egg.
Jake looked puzzled for a second, then just sort of nodded
before carrying on unloading the pallets.
I got the impression that Jake still didn't understand, but
little misunderstandings like that were things he'd learned to
live with. Everyone loved Jake.
They liked him because he was helpful.
They liked him because he was thoughtful, and they liked him
because he was one of the few members who was actually able to
articulate how grateful he was for both the Center and its
staff through no fault of their own.
Most members would only say things like a simple thank you
or I Love you guys, which was amazing and I appreciated every
kind word I got, But Jake was really able to just flesh out
how he felt about us. I saw a Co worker dash into the
staff break room before bursting into tears because Jake had said
something to her like I don't know what I do without this
place. Sometimes you guys feel like
part of my family. She wasn't a particularly over
emotional person, but I guess what he said that day hit her
right in the fields and she didn't want him to confuse her
happy tears with sad tears. Jake was popular for other
reasons too. He often brought things from
home. Sometimes it was a fresh tray of
cookies, sometimes it was a bag of sub sandwiches.
Other times it was a brand new PlayStation for the playroom or
a portable heater. When the office got really cold
in the winter time, Jake didn't work.
Not as far as I knew anyway. So I figured that he was either
independently wealthy somehow or that he had rich parents that
didn't mind dropping a few $100 on a new gaming system.
I know for a fact that the portable heater wasn't cheap
because Jake didn't think to just take the price tag off the
box before he gave it to us. I can guarantee people would
have still liked Jake had he not been so generous, but we didn't
exactly turn his gifts down either.
We were very underfunded, and without his or his family's
help, things would have definitely been much tougher
around the center. But then that's why I felt so
conflicted when, after hearing all these amazing reports of
Jake, I suddenly had a very negative experience with him.
You see, one evening we were in the process of closing up the
center and I was finishing off account in our food storage that
had been interrupted earlier in the day.
I knew Jake was around the center, so I wasn't startled
when he suddenly walked into the storage room at the rear of the
kitchen. But what I was startled by is
the question he asked me do you have a boyfriend?
I didn't have a boyfriend, not at the time.
But the question caught me so off guard that I told Jake that
yes, I did have a boyfriend. I didn't want to give him any
ideas if I said no, so I just kind of instinctively lied.
Jake then asked me what it was like having a boyfriend.
I mean, so I told him it was nice and that I loved my
boyfriend very much. Jake then told me that he wished
he had a girlfriend and that he never had one and would like to
feel that same kind of nice as he put it.
It seemed like it was another one of those moments with Jake
where he said something so sweet that you thought it might break
your heart. But then suddenly the
conversation took a drastic and deeply unexpected turn.
Jake paused for a second after saying that kind of nice thing
and then turned to me again before asking something that had
my jaw almost hitting the floor. He asked me if my boyfriend and
I performed a very disgusting kind of act on each other.
Before you go thinking, I'm some ultra Christian who thinks
anything beyond hand holding is extramarital evilness, the thing
he asked about was very extreme, the kind of thing I drop a date
like a live grenade over if they ever asked me to do it with
them. I had to remind myself who would
actually ask the question and that even though Jake had this
really creepy grin after asking it, I tried to just take a sort
of professional tone before responding.
I told him his question was not appropriate for nice
conversation and explained why it would be considered rude.
I also explained that the thing he referred to was not something
that regular couples would consider normal or romantic.
Jake apologized kind of in the same way that he did when he got
other stuff wrong, but there was something different about this
one. He said that he was sorry, but
his expression kind of said otherwise.
The whole thing just left a really bad taste in my mouth, so
the next day I just brought it up to my boss.
She said she'd have to handle it in the exact same way, and then
I was right to report it as soon as I was able.
It wasn't the first time that the mostly male visitors to the
center had made an inappropriate comment to it's mostly female
staff, but that each time education had been the remedy,
not shaming or exclusion. And I agreed wholeheartedly that
most transgressions like that were nothing but innocent
mistakes. But like I had already
mentioned, there was the issue of Jake's expression and how I
didn't think that he was all that.
Sorry, I didn't bring that up. Not because it wasn't relevant,
but because it didn't feel like it served a purpose.
If Jake said anything else that crossed the line, I could just
escalate my complaint knowing my boss had my back.
With that in mind, I didn't mention it to anyone else.
I didn't want to color their opinions of Jake, and since it
appeared that he'd learned his lesson regarding asking me about
inappropriate topics, I decided to just simply let it go rather
than go around talking all bad about him.
Things went on just fine like that for a while, with Jake
being his usual cheerful self. At least until one day when
everything changed suddenly and irreversibly.
One night a Co worker and I were closing up the Center for the
night and Jake was off helping them with whatever they were
dealing with. I was in the records room, which
was this fairly small walk in closet that was incredibly
overstuffed with all kinds of files that had been piled onto
old dusty shelves when who should walk in but Jake himself?
This was a few years before all the records were transferred
over to the digital system, and seeing as everything inside was
sort of deemed sensitive information, we used to keep it
locked at all times. To get inside, I had to get my
keys out to unlock the door, but when I did, I just left them in
the lock, and that turned out to be a huge mistake.
When Jake walked into the room, I noticed that he had my keys in
his hand. I asked him to hand them over,
but he just ignored me while flashing that creepily familiar
grin. Then when I asked him a second
time, he turned slid the key into the door, then locked it
with a loud click. You know, people sometimes say
things like I felt my blood run cold or my veins turn to ice
whenever something really creepy happens to them.
I didn't know what they meant until that moment, but it's
true. I got chills seeing Jake lock
that door, not just because he'd locked both of us inside, but
because he knew what he was doing.
I asked him a third time to give me my keys, and during that he
tossed them up onto the box of files on a top shelf, then took
a few steps toward me. I kept saying this isn't funny,
Jake, give me my keys and get out.
But he didn't listen. He just kept following me around
the records room as I tried and failed to keep away from him.
He was much bigger than me, much faster.
All it took was one attempt to get my keys and he was on me.
I don't even want to say what he tried to do to me, but let's
just say that it was the one thing that every woman prays
never happens to them. But I didn't just let him do it.
I fought back. And when I did, he thankfully
stopped trying. But then instead of just
unlocking the door and accepting the rejection, Jake began to
punch me, kick me, and stomp on me while I fell on the ground.
I tried to crawl away, but every attempt just made it easier for
him to kick me in the head or in the ribs or other more
vulnerable places on my body. And then suddenly it just
stopped. I heard the jingling of the
keys, I heard them pushed into the lock, and then by the time I
rolled over to look, Jake was gone and the door was wide open.
What happened next feels like it happened to another person, or
like it was a dream I had. I think a combination of
adrenaline, all the kicks and punches to my head and just how
unexpected the attack had been put me into a kind of
dissociative state. When I think about it, it's like
someone else got up and limped their way to the phone at the
center's reception area to call 911.
I just remember feeling so calm at a time when I'd have expected
myself to be completely hysterical.
I know now that that was just a way of delaying the trauma, a
function now but suffer later kind of thing.
I was still on the phone with 911 when my coworker walked into
the reception area and noticed me.
Obviously I knew I was hurt pretty bad, but I couldn't see
myself, you know? So when my coworker looked at me
and literally gasped with horror at all the blood and torn
clothing, that's the first time I actually started to really
worry how bad things truly were. I didn't need the ambulance in
the end because my coworker drove me straight to the
hospital. She was like my guardian Angel
and stayed with me while I was checked over and then gave me a
ride back to my dorm after we spoke to two cops who showed up
to the hospital. I was a mess on that ride back
to my dorm and I spent maybe 5 or 10 minutes just crying into
my Co workers shoulder after we pulled into the parking lot.
The nurses had cleaned me up pretty good but there was some
swelling and I was for sure going to have one or two black
eyes but aside from that nothing was broken.
It was probably the worst experience of my life up until
that point, but everyone seems supportive and the cops were
promising to investigate. But when I look back on it,
there was one little clue that everything wasn't going to turn
out OK And that's when my coworker asked me what happened.
She asked me the first time on the way to the hospital, and
when I told her it was Jake who attacked me, she was shocked,
but not to the point of disbelief.
I'll be the first to say that of all the men who visited the
center, Jake was the last person I ever expected to turn violent
or lash out, but the fact remained that he had.
But then, when I was sitting in her car in the parking lot of my
dorm and my Co worker asked me a second time what had happened
back in the records room, I could see her beginning to doubt
my version of events, or rather, not doubt me, in the sense that
she thought I was lying. She was just incapable of
imagining Jake being capable of anything so horrifying.
I should have known that she wouldn't be the only one, and at
that time I totally understood why she'd be so stunned, to the
point of disbelief. It was an unbelievable story,
but like a surprising amount of unbelievable stories, every word
was the God honest truth. I had no idea how the doubt
would spread and grow until it divided a whole community and
forced me out of a job that I'd grown to love.
The first part came when I got a call from my boss saying that
I'd been suspended without pay until the cops investigation had
concluded. Basically, Jake was flat out
denying any wrongdoing, claiming total ignorance, and saying that
he wasn't even at the center on the day that I was attacked.
Thanks to the center security cameras, that was a claim we
could easily prove false. But then Jake's parents had
totally taken his word for it, citing the fact that he'd
returned home at the exact time as usual.
I suppose this isn't totally relevant in a way, but it's
something that really creeped me out at the time and still creeps
me out, actually, so I suppose I'll share it.
Jake stayed way after closing that afternoon, maybe 25 to 30
minutes after he usually started his walk or run home.
This meant that to get home at the so-called regular time, Jake
had to have run the three miles back to his house in a heavy
jacket and probably Crocs at an extended pace without stopping.
He wasn't smart enough to cover it up properly, but he sure
tried, meaning that he sure as hell knew what he had done was a
terrible, terrible thing. The second part came when I
heard that Jake had admitted to attacking me, but claimed it was
after I tried to touch him. He claimed he got scared, lashed
out, and didn't remember anything until he arrived back
home in a panic. But I know that's not true
because the cop told me that this conflicted with the initial
statement made by Jake's parents, who said he arrived
home at the regular time while displaying no obvious signs of
being upset. Basically all the evidence
proved my story and that forced Jake to admit what he'd done.
But everyone completely bought his story after being provoked
in some way, then losing control of himself.
Don't get me wrong, most people sympathized with me and knew
Jake's behavior was wrong and had to be dealt with in some
way, but they also refused to accept that he was really at
fault and that he posed a danger to anyone else.
And then came the day when one of my Co workers approached me
and tried to convince me to just drop the charges.
Now, the long and short of it is that if I went ahead with the
charges, Jake was going to be removed from the care of his
parents and placed into some psychiatric facility for an
undetermined period of time. If the psychologist found a
serious issue, But if he didn't respond to the treatment they'd
give him, Jake could end up stuck in the system for years on
end. If I drop the charges, his
parents could get him the help he needed privately, without
having to be separated from him for potentially a very long time
in her opinion, and she alluded that many other people felt the
same way. The right thing to do would be
for me to drop the charges, and when I told her that wasn't
going to happen, she called me selfish.
I'd like to say that I handled the situation with a little more
grace, but I didn't. I was furious beyond furious,
and for the first time in my life, I had to remove myself
from a situation for fear of losing my own sense of control.
I couldn't believe what had come out of her mouth, That word in
particular selfish, and it made my blood boil in a way that I
can barely put into words. Looking back on it, I knew she
didn't mean selfish, as in thinking of myself over Jake and
his condition. She meant selfish as in me.
Pressing charges would sever Jake's connection with a
Community Center, which in turn meant no more gifts, and as I
found out later, no tax deductions for financial
contributions from Jake's very wealthy parents.
In the end, Jake was deemed unfit to stand trial, and since
he admitted to assaulting me, he was referred to a psychiatric
hospital on the other side of the state.
The only caveat was that this was according to that same cop
that I told you about. Jake would probably get out of
the mental health system much earlier than I'd ever be
comfortable with. Attacking me was the first black
mark on what had been a very clean record, and with that in
mind, judges would look very kindly on him and his oh so
charitable parents. With the investigation
concluded, my suspension was lifted and I was invited back to
work at the Community Center. I turned down the offer.
There was no way that I was going back there, and maybe that
seems spoiled of me because not everyone was either on the fence
or on Jake's side. My boss in particular, was as
good as she'd ever been. I just couldn't go back to the
place that valued the family's money over my safety and the
safety of other women working there.
And again, that's not to say that she didn't believe Jake had
lashed out. They just didn't think that he
had it in him to do it again. Whereas myself and the state saw
things differently. God, this seems so long and
rambly by now, and I know there will be people out there who
listen to this and once again take the side of my attacker,
but I don't care. This felt good to get off my
chest for the first time in years, and writing it out has
actually served as a sort of reminder of how I did the right
thing. I completely moved on from the
Community Center and just sort of poured myself into my
studies, then applied for nursing jobs in just about every
other city and state than the one that I was in at that time.
I guess other people might have kept up with Jake's treatment
just to keep an eye on his release date, but over time,
I've decided that I just don't want to know.
I just want to move on with my life.
I don't want to think about these things anymore, but I also
have to accept that's just never going to happen.
Sometimes I feel like a pair of tectonic plates or something.
I don't really know how else to describe it.
You see, every so often enough tension builds up that there
needs to be release. But aside from that, I can go
years without paying it more than a glancing thought, I guess
that's what I hope this post might achieve and why I sent it
in. And I guess only time will tell.
People can be very weird, and sometimes their actions can
affect us in ways we never even notice.
This is a story that will illustrate just how strange and
unsettling people's behavior can be.
At the time, I was working tirelessly, saving up to buy my
girlfriend an engagement ring. We were renting a small house,
which was an improvement from our previous apartment because
at least we didn't share walls with noisy neighbors.
Additionally, we were both saving money to eventually buy a
House of our own. My girlfriend, seeing my
dedication to work, decided to volunteer for a five day retreat
with her company, which would pay her a substantial amount in
overtime. This allowed me to work even
more overtime at my job. I knew I would miss her during
her time away, but it seemed like a great opportunity to
bring in some extra cash, especially with the holidays
approaching rapidly. On Wednesday morning when I left
for work, I noticed a strange smell in my car.
It wasn't a bad smell, just something unusual.
It reminded me of a perfume, but not the kind my girlfriend would
wear. I dismissed it as some
inexplicable oddity and didn't dwell on it too much.
That night I had a terrible time sleeping.
I convinced myself it was due to missing my girlfriend's
presence, as I was accustomed to her being by my side.
This marked the third consecutive night that I had to
sleep alone throughout the night.
I thought I heard faint noises coming from downstairs, but they
weren't loud or frightening enough to set off any alarms.
I brushed it off, attributing it to typical house sounds or the
wind. Thursday morning arrived and I
felt like I hadn't slept at all. I brewed some coffee, hoping it
would help me get through the day.
When I got into my car, I discovered that I had left it
unlocked, which was unusual for me.
I had been working long hours, and the thought of forgetting to
lock the car had crossed my mind.
I dismissed it, got in, and drove to work.
Once again I caught a whiff of that perfume in my car and this
time some red flags began to rise in my mind.
I couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on.
Every thought I had seemed to end with me blaming my
exhaustion or missing my girlfriend as the logical
explanation. It made sense at the time.
I left work that evening and the scent of perfume in my car was
unmistakable. I even had a Co worker come over
and confirm that he could smell it too.
He suggested it might be my girlfriend's perfume, and I,
wanting to believe it, went along with his explanation.
Maybe I was subconsciously noticing certain smells because
I missed her, I reasoned, but deep down I knew it wasn't her
perfume. As I arrived home again, that
pervasive perfume scent continued to haunt me.
It was more irritating than anything else at this point.
Still, I couldn't shake the weirdness of it all.
I decided to take a shower and then go grab some food and
drinks at a bar to unwind. After all, my girlfriend was
returning the next afternoon, and it was my first day off in
nearly two weeks. I was eager to relax.
I returned home late on Thursday night, perhaps around midnight,
and prepared to go to bed. As soon as I opened the door to
the house, that familiar scent hit me again.
Annoyance was beginning to outweigh my unease.
I got into bed not long after, hoping that my girlfriend's
return would put an end to these strange occurrences.
I must have dozed off for a little while because I was
abruptly awakened by someone getting into bed beside me in my
half asleep state. My mind immediately assumed it
was my girlfriend. She shushed me gently and I
turned around to face her half expecting to see her familiar
smile. She started to cuddle up to me,
playing the role of the big spoon, which was unusual for
her. However, I was so exhausted and
relieved that she was home that I didn't think much of it.
But then a minute or so later, my eyes snapped open.
I glanced down and saw a woman's forearm lying across my body
holding me. The scent of that perfume was
unmistakable. Panic course through me as I
realized this was not my girlfriend.
My senses returned to me and I remembered that my girlfriend
was not due back until the next afternoon.
Why would she have come home in the middle of the night?
I lipped out of bed, terrified and disoriented.
I turned on the lights and there she was, a young woman, probably
in her mid 20s, with a smile on her face.
She kept brushing her hair away from her face and continued to
call me babe. I screamed at her to get out of
my bed, but she just kept smiling.
I grabbed my phone and called the police, but she didn't react
or resist. Instead, she started to shush me
again and it tried to rub my arm, as if consoling a lover.
I was in a state of utter disbelief, frantically
explaining the situation to the arriving officers.
The woman sat there calmly, seemingly unfazed.
She wasn't armed, hadn't attempted to harm me, and had no
prior legal issues. I later learned that she was our
neighbor living on the same street, but she had been so
quiet that I hadn't even known she existed while residing in
her own house. She had developed an unhealthy
obsession and infatuation with me.
When she noticed my girlfriend's absence, she began breaking into
our home, convinced that I was in love with her.
Despite the strange and unsettling situation, the woman
had never posed a physical threat.
Thankfully, she hadn't meant me any harm, but the fact that I
had essentially had a borderline stalker living in my house for
almost a week was deeply unsettling.
She never returned to her own house, and shortly thereafter we
moved away. I heard that her family had been
notified and she was undergoing treatment for an unspecified
illness. To this day, I'm not sure what
that illness was, but this experience left me with a
profound understanding of just how weird and unpredictable
people can be. You truly never know what could
happen. I found this note while
exploring an old abandoned building in my town.
I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I typed it out and
figured I'd send it to. Just creepy.
Here it is. I want to start by saying I have
always been sceptical of all things supernatural and
otherworldly. That said, I'd be a fool to deny
the presence of something evil at my job.
I am Ryan, a 26 year old man from the Lower Peninsula of
Michigan. I've worked at my current job at
a farmer's market for the last eight years.
I've always loved working outside with the plants in the
summer and the Christmas trees in the spring.
It feels like where I belong. But lately something weird has
been happening. It started about two months ago,
right about when the sun started going down before closing time,
I started hearing this. Well, if I'm honest with you, I
don't even know what to call it. It was like a scratching.
I guess it's like the sound of metal against metal, but more
like knives against metal, if you know what I mean.
Like if Wolverine from X-Men took his claws out and ran them
down the side of a shipping container.
I had never heard a sound more bone chilling in my life.
For a while I thought it was maybe just in my head, just my
brain, trying to fill the silence of a slow day.
One day my Co worker Leanna mentioned hearing the same
scratching noise around closing time.
A few months had passed and this had been going on for quite some
time. At this point.
Finally we couldn't take it, so we took the problem to our boss,
John. He and a few other workers had
also heard the sound and he planned to check it out that
night. So after we closed, John stayed
behind to investigate the sound, thinking it'd be taken care of
by morning. But when the sun dawned the next
day and I opened the store, John was nowhere to be found.
I called his cell phone but he didn't answer and this was
incredibly unlike him considering he owned the
business. Morning came and went and
eventually the sun began to set again.
Still no word from John on the night following that day.
The beast in the vent seemed more antsy than usual and I had
a bad feeling about John's safety.
Nevertheless, my Co worker Dale decided to be a hero and go into
the air ducts looking for John. As expected, Dale never
returned. Now I know what you're thinking.
Why hasn't this guy called the freaking police?
Well, if I were to call the police and say a creature in the
vents of my building is taking my Co workers one by one, doing
God knows what to them, they'd probably think I'm crazy and
might even blame me for the disappearances.
So that wasn't even an option. About a week later I finally had
my first morning off. It had been too long since I got
to sleep in and as I was looking forward to a stress free slow
morning, I woke up around 10:30 and made some eggs for me and my
dog Juan, a 10 year old border collie who still acts like a
puppy. I took Juan for a walk through
the neighborhood and he played in the leaves like he often does
this time of year. Overall it was an excellent
start to the day. I got to work around 3:00 and
when I arrived, Amelia's car was parked in her spot, but she was
missing. I frantically searched the whole
store hoping she would be reorganizing in some place she
usually wasn't. However, my hopes were crushed
after the whole building was scoured twice and Amelia was
nowhere to be found. My heart sank to my stomach as I
realized what had happened. Amelia had most likely heard the
beast scratching this morning and went to check on it for
herself. Lena got to work around 3:30 and
asked me where Amelia was making some jokes about how she was
always leaving early, but I swear I saw her stupid sticker
covered car when I got here, I replied.
Lena questioned. Yeah, about that.
I think she heard the scratching and went to check it out alone.
Oh shoot, well now I feel bad about the comment on her car,
Lena said, trying to put a light hearted spin on the situation.
Lena has always been a little slow but fearless.
But when she suggested that our friends were playing a prank on
us to get out of work, I wasn't really surprised.
I'm just going to go up there and bust them, she said eagerly.
I begged her not to go, knowing that her fate awaited her in the
vents, but she persisted. She crawled up into the ducks,
and that's the last time I saw her.
As I'm writing this, it's my turn to go into the vent to
rescue my friends. I know what the vent holds for
me, but I couldn't go on living with the guilt of not trying to
save my Co workers. So I'm writing this as a warning
to whoever finds this note. Stay away from this building for
it isn't owned by Jonathan Phil anymore.
The beast holds it. That's the end of the letter
that I found. I'm not exactly sure what to do
with this information. Should I call the police?
I don't even know. Hopefully it's not real.