My family and I were on our way to an old deserted campsite in
the woods of Georgia. My husband, Tom, sat beside me,
looking focused as he drove, while our son, Jake, was
bouncing excitedly in the back seat.
Are we almost there? He asked for what seemed like
the 100th time. Almost.
I replied, trying to sound cheerful even though my stomach
felt tight. The road grew narrower the
deeper we went, lined by tall, dark trees that seemed to lean
over us. We passed a tiny, dusty town,
and when we mentioned where we were headed, the cashier at the
gas station gave us a strange look and muttered something I
couldn't catch. But Tom just laughed it off, and
we kept driving. Finally, we pulled into a small
clearing. Here we are.
Tom announced, though his smile looked a bit forced.
The campsite was exactly like the photos I'd seen online, but
with an eerie quiet feeling to it.
No one else was around, just us, the trees, and the strange hush
that seemed to press down on us like a thick blanket.
I shivered, even though the air was warm.
We started setting up the tent and unpacking our things.
As I went to collect firewood near the trees, I noticed
something strange scratched into the bark.
They were symbols, like spirals and jagged lines carved freshly
into the wood. My heart skipped a beat.
It didn't look like something an animal would do.
Hey, Tom, look at this. I called, pointing at the
markings. He squinted and shrugged.
Probably some prank or something.
He said, though he didn't sound entirely sure.
He put an arm around my shoulders, giving me a quick
squeeze. Let's not freak ourselves out.
Just then, Jake called out. Look, bones.
We turned to see him holding up what looked like a small
bleached animal bone, probably a rabbit's.
I made him drop it and wash his hands, but I could tell he was
thrilled by the discovery. He loved creepy stuff, but
something about finding that bone just felt wrong.
As the sun began to set, the clearing took on an even
stranger feeling. The shadows stretched longer,
creeping closer to our campsite as if the trees themselves were
inching in. The air turned still and quiet.
Too quiet. No birds, no crickets, not even
the rustling of leaves. I kept glancing over my
shoulder, feeling like something was watching us from the tree
line. We built a small fire, hoping
the warmth would ease the tension.
We tried to tell stories and laugh, but every sound felt
muffled. Even Jake seemed to sense it,
huddling close and asking in a whisper.
Do you think anything lives out here?
I shook my head, trying to smile.
Nobody, we're alone out here. I said, even though the words
didn't feel right. I couldn't shake the prickling
feeling on the back of my neck. Night was falling fast, and I
could feel it in my bones. We were not alone.
The fire was dying down and night had fully settled around
us, a darkness so thick it felt like a blanket draped over the
whole forest. I was sitting beside Tom,
staring into the flames, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling
twisting in my stomach. Jake had dozed off between us,
his small face looking peaceful even though every part of me was
on edge. Then, out of nowhere, a noise
broke through the silence. A loud, heavy thump like
footsteps echoing from the direction of the water.
My whole body tensed up. I glanced at Tom, who was
already looking in the same direction, his brow furrowed.
Did you hear that? I whispered, feeling my heart
begin to race. He nodded, his eyes narrowing as
he tried to focus through the darkness.
It's probably just an animal. He said, though he didn't sound
convinced. The footsteps continued, growing
louder, each one making the ground seem to shiver beneath
us. These weren't the light, quick
steps of a deer or small animal. They were slow, deliberate, and
way too heavy. Step by step, they got closer,
like whatever it was knew exactly where we were.
I held my breath, not daring to move, not even daring to blink.
Mom. Jake's small voice broke the
silence. He was awake, sitting up with
wide eyes. What's that noise?
It's, it's nothing, honey. I said, hoping he couldn't hear
the fear in my voice. But he gripped my hand tightly,
his small fingers cold and trembling.
We all stared into the darkness, waiting, but nothing appeared.
The footsteps stopped suddenly, leaving an even heavier silence
behind. I looked at Tom, wondering if we
should just go back to the tent and wait it out.
But before I could say anything, a loud snap echoed above us.
It sounded like a branch breaking.
No, not just one branch. More and more snapping sounds
came, like something large was moving through the treetops
above us. Get in the tent.
Tom whispered urgently. Now we scrambled, practically
tripping over each other as we grabbed Jake and stumbled back
to the tent. Once inside, we zipped it up,
huddling close together. My heart was pounding so hard I
could feel it in my throat. We waited, listening to the
sounds outside. The footsteps started again,
slow and steady, circling around our tent.
I held Jake close and he buried his face in my shoulder, too
scared to look. Every now and then there was a
scratching sound on the tent wall, like something dragging
its claws over the fabric. I clamped my hand over my mouth,
trying not to scream. And then the whispers began.
Low, garbled voices drifted around the tent, almost like
laughter, but twisted, broken. It was as if something was
trying to imitate human speech but getting it wrong.
Each whisper seemed to come from a different direction, circling,
closing in. We huddled together, clinging to
each other as the whispers and footsteps continued, each sound
making the night feel longer and colder.
The whispers grew louder, like a strange, broken song that
circled around us. Each whisper felt closer,
slipping in through the thin walls of the tent.
I held Jake as tight as I could, barely daring to breathe, while
Tom sat frozen beside us, his eyes wide with fear.
For what felt like hours, we listened to the scratching, the
whispers, and the footsteps outside.
It was like some nightmare that wouldn't end.
Every now and then something would press against the tent,
pushing in the fabric just inches from our faces.
Whatever was out there was big, with a heavy, wet sound that
almost sounded like breathing. Suddenly, there was a loud thump
right beside my head, and I nearly screamed.
Jake's face was buried against me, his small body shaking.
Tom reached out, gripping my hand, his own hand cold and
clammy. Stay quiet, he mouthed, barely
making a sound. We held each other, our breath
shallow as the noise outside continued.
It circled the tent, stopping and starting again, as if it was
waiting for something. At one point, I swore I heard it
laugh, soft and garbled, a sound that sent chills straight
through my bones. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying
for it to end. Then, just as the first hint of
dawn's light started to filter through the tent walls, the
noises stopped. The footsteps faded, the
whispers quieted, and a heavy silence fell around us.
We waited, not daring to move, until the light outside grew
brighter, promising that the night was over.
Finally, Tom unzipped the tent, peeking outside.
He looked around, then nodded. I think it's gone, he whispered.
The three of us stumbled out, shaky and exhausted.
The early morning sun cast long shadows across the clearing, and
everything felt eerily still, as if the forest was holding its
breath. I glanced around, hoping for
some sign that we'd just imagined it all, that maybe we'd
had the same awful dream. But what I saw sent a chill down
my spine. All around our tent was a ring
of pine cones, carefully placed in a perfect circle.
Each one was positioned with exact precision, marking our
campsite. And a few feet away, near the
tree by the water, deep gashes were carved into the bark, claw
marks fresh and raw that oozed a dark SAP.
The sight of them made my stomach twist.
Tom walked over, his face pale. These weren't here last night.
He whispered, his voice barely audible.
Jake clung to my side, looking up at me with wide, scared eyes.
We need to go. I said, trying to keep my voice
steady. I grabbed Jake's hand and we
began to pack up, working as quickly as our shaking hands
would allow. As we left the campsite, I
noticed that every few steps, more pine cones were arranged in
small clusters along our path, as if marking the way out or
warning us to leave and never come back.
The whole drive home, I couldn't shake the feeling that something
was still watching us, hidden in the shadows of the trees,
waiting for another night. The drive out to the Rocky
Mountain campsite was long and winding.
As Annie and I drove deeper into the forest, the trees grew dense
and crept along the road with branches, like fingers reaching
out to grab us. We'd been planning this camping
trip forever. Both of us loved camping, but
this time we wanted a real adventure, somewhere no one else
went. Annie had found this clearing
way off the usual trails, and that's where we were headed.
I was excited, but also a little nervous.
After what felt like forever, the road finally ended in a
small empty clearing surrounded by trees so dense they felt like
walls. The sun was sinking fast, and
the whole area seemed to get darker by the 2nd.
It was quiet out here, quieter than any place I'd ever been.
No birds, no rustling leaves, just a heavy, thick silence.
Annie laughed when I mentioned it, saying it was probably just
the kind of peace we needed. We set up our tent as quickly as
we could, our hands moving fast in the dimming light.
After lighting a small fire, we sat down to relax, hoping the
warmth and glow would make the clearing feel a little less
spooky. But even as we chatted, the
uneasy feeling stuck with me. The fire crackled, casting
flickering shadows that danced along the edges of the clearing.
But those shadows seemed strange, like they were hiding
something just out of sight. I shrugged it off, thinking I
was just letting the quiet get to me.
Annie was in a good mood, laughing and telling ghost
stories, but I could tell she felt it too.
Every now and then her eyes would dart around the edge of
the clearing as if she was checking to see if something or
someone was there. I kept glancing into the trees,
half expecting to see an animal or maybe even another camper,
but there was nothing, just the blackness of the forest
swallowing up the light from our little fire.
When we finally crawled into the tent, I thought the weird
feeling would go away, but lying there in my sleeping bag, it
only got worse. The forest was so silent, not a
single sound outside, as if everything out there was holding
its breath. I turned on my side, trying to
shake it off. Beside me, Annie was already
asleep, breathing deeply, completely at ease.
I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself that I was overthinking
things. But then, in the middle of the
night, I woke up to a strange sound.
A clanging noise, like metal hitting metal.
My eyes snapped open, and my heart started pounding.
I sat up, listening as hard as I could, hoping I'd just imagined
it. But then it came again, louder
this time. Clang, clang.
Each noise cut through the night, making me feel like
something or someone was out there, just beyond our tent.
I turned to see if Annie had woken up, but she was still
sound asleep. Taking a deep breath, I crawled
quietly to the tent's door, every inch of my body tense as I
reached out to unzip it just a little.
The sound stopped suddenly. Everything was silent again,
like the forest itself was watching me, waiting for me to
make a move. I couldn't shake the feeling
that something was out there, hidden in the darkness.
And whatever it was, I had a terrible feeling it wasn't
friendly. My heart was pounding so hard I
thought it might wake Annie up, but she kept sleeping, totally
unaware of the creepy silence outside.
I was about to lie back down, trying to convince myself it was
all in my head, when I heard something else, A sound I'll
never forget. A sharp, high pitched screech
echoed through the forest. It was so loud it felt like it
was vibrating through my bones. I froze, every hair on my body
standing up. It didn't sound like any animal
I'd ever heard. It was more like metal scraping
against metal, like a car suddenly slamming on the brakes.
And it was close. Peeking through the tiny gap in
the tent zipper, I scanned the edge of the clearing where the
fire light barely reached. And then, in the shadows, I saw
it. A figure stood just outside the
reach of the light, towering over everything around it.
My breath caught in my throat. It was tall, way too tall, and
skinny in a way that didn't look natural.
Its arms and legs seemed way too long, twisted at strange angles.
I squinted, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
The face. It looked almost like a deer's
face, but wrong. Twisted as if someone had taken
a deer's skull and pulled it apart in weird, unnatural ways.
Its eyes were dark and empty, staring into the night without
blinking. The creature's mouth hung open,
and as it moved, I saw a set of sharp, crooked teeth glint in
the dim light. It made another noise, a low,
raspy growl that made my stomach churn.
I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.
I just watched as it took a slow, shuffling step toward our
tent. Every part of me was screaming
to do something, anything, but I was frozen.
The creature kept moving, taking its time as if it knew I was
watching. It moved with this awful
dragging sound, like it was pulling itself across the
ground. My hands shook as I slowly
pulled the zipper down, sealing the tent closed, praying it
wouldn't notice. But then it stopped.
I held my breath, not daring to make a sound.
The creature let out another horrible scream, louder this
time, echoing through the trees. I felt Annie stir beside me, and
for a second I was terrified she'd wake up and make a noise.
But she didn't. The creature started moving
again, shuffling around our campsite in slow, uneven
circles. Every so often it would stop,
letting out another scream or a low growl, like it was trying to
scare us, like it knew we were hiding.
I sat there, trembling as it circled our tent over and over,
its heavy footsteps making the ground vibrate.
At one point, I felt it brush against the fabric of the tent,
its fingers scraping along the side, leaving a long, slow
scratch. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing
myself to be invisible, to be silent.
Minutes felt like hours, each second filled with the horrible
feeling that at any moment it would find us.
But finally, after what felt like forever, the footsteps
started to fade, moving away into the darkness.
But I knew it wasn't gone. It was out there, somewhere,
waiting. And somehow, I knew it would
come back. When dawn finally crept into the
clearing, I barely felt relieved.
I had spent the rest of the night listening to every tiny
sound, jumping at every creak and snap.
Outside, Annie was still fast asleep, somehow unaware of the
nightmare that had unfolded. As soon as the first hint of
light seeped through the tent, I gently shook her awake.
Annie, we need to go now. I whispered, my voice shaking.
She blinked, confused, rubbing her eyes.
What, why? She mumbled, still groggy, but
when she saw the look on my face, she sat up, fully awake
now. There was something outside last
night. I said, glancing nervously at
the tent walls. It was huge, not an animal.
I don't know what it was, but we can't stay here.
She gave me a skeptical look, but as she started packing, she
noticed the deep scratches along the tent's fabric.
Her eyes widened and she looked at me, fear beginning to set in.
OK, let's get out of here. She said, her voice a shaky
whisper. We packed up in silence, moving
as fast as we could. My hands shook as I rolled up my
sleeping bag, my ears on high alert for any sound outside.
As we stepped out of the tent, the clearing felt even stranger
in the early morning light. It was silent, just like the
night before. Too silent.
No birds, no breeze, just stillness.
And then we saw them. The footprints.
Huge deep prints in the dirt around our campsite, leading to
and from the forest. They weren't shaped like any
animal I knew, They were long and narrow, with claw marks
gouging deep into the soil, like something had dragged itself
around our tent in circles. Annie gasped, clutching her bag
tighter. What made those?
She whispered, her voice barely audible.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
We both knew this wasn't something we wanted to stick
around and figure out. We grabbed our bags and hurried
toward the trail, glancing over our shoulders every few steps.
The trees seemed to loom over us, thicker than I remembered,
as if they were closing in, making the trail hard to follow.
Every crack of a branch made us jump, our heads snapping back
and forth, our pace quickening with each step.
Just when I thought we were close to the edge of the forest,
a loud, bone chilling screech echoed through the trees, louder
than anything I'd heard before. It was the same sound from last
night, but this time it felt closer, way too close.
Run. I yelled, and we both took off,
sprinting down the trail as fast as we could.
My legs burned and my lungs felt like they were about to burst,
but I couldn't stop. The sound of heavy footsteps
echoed behind us, thundering through the trees.
I didn't dare look back, I couldn't.
We burst out of the trees and into the open, our car finally
Insight. We scrambled inside, slamming
the doors and locking them as Annie started the engine.
I glanced back toward the forest, half expecting to see
that twisted deer like face staring back at me from the
shadows. But there was nothing, just the
thick wall of trees. We speed down the road, not
stopping until we were far, far away.
I didn't speak, and neither did Annie, but I knew neither of us
would ever forget what we'd seen in that forest.
We would never, ever go back. I never thought I'd be scared of
the woods. I mean, we'd been going there
for years, my friends and I. Just a stretch of trees north of
Virginia where we could act like we were real adventurers.
Every time, we'd tell the same stories about the old haunted
campgrounds hidden somewhere deep in the forest.
According to rumors, people had gone missing around it.
Supposedly they'd gone in and never came out, but we didn't
care. Those were just stories, after
all. Or so we thought.
This time, the three of us set up camp near the river.
The night air was colder than usual, and I could feel it
creeping up my spine as the fire crackled.
The flames threw weird shadows across the trees, twisting their
shapes into strange hunched figures that looked almost like
they were watching us, but I tried not to let it bother me.
I mean, it was just shadows, right?
We started swapping ghost stories around the fire, each
one scarier than the last. Max told one about a creature
that lurked in the forest, something that could mimic the
voice of anyone it heard. Ethan added a story about hikers
who disappeared after they'd heard their own names whispered
in the wind. Every story made the hairs on my
neck stand up a little more, and I could feel that chill in my
spine getting stronger, but I laughed it off.
We all did, even if we kept glancing over our shoulders.
As the night dragged on, a thick silence settled around us.
The fire started to die down and the forest got darker.
Everything felt heavier and I couldn't shake the feeling that
someone or something was watching us from beyond the
light. I tried to ignore it, telling
myself it was just nerves from the stories, but no matter what,
I couldn't relax. Around 1:00 in the morning, I
decided I'd better go relieve myself before calling it a
night. I told the guys I'd be back in a
minute and stepped away from the camp, heading just far enough
that they couldn't see me, but I could still make out the faint
glow of the fire. The trees seemed to close in
around me as I moved, their branches creaking and shifting
with the wind. That's when I heard it.
My name. Someone was calling me from a
few steps deeper into the forest.
I froze, my heart pounding. It sounded just like Max, but I
knew he was back at the camp. I yelled, telling him to quit
messing with me. But the voice kept calling,
softer this time, almost like a whisper.
Come here, it said. I told myself it was just a
trick, that Max was trying to spook me, but something about it
felt wrong. And then, through the dim light
of the trees, I saw a figure. It looked like a deer at first,
until I realized it was standing on two legs, just like a person.
My breath caught in my throat as I took a step back.
It tilted its head, watching me with dark, empty eyes, and
whispered in Max's voice again. Make your way over here, I have
something for you. I turned and ran, stumbling over
roots and branches as I raced back to the camp.
I didn't look back, I didn't want to know if it was following
me. All I knew was that whatever it
was, it was real. When I reached the camp, my
breath was coming out in shaky gasps and my legs felt like they
could give out at any second. I looked around, expecting to
see Max and Ethan waiting there, laughing at how they'd scared
me, but the camp was empty. The fire had burned down to
barely glowing embers, casting just enough light for me to make
out the chaos around me. Our tents were torn open, our
bags scattered, and my stomach flipped, a dark stain of what
looked like blood smeared across the ground.
My heart pounded as I called out.
Max, Ethan, where are you guys? But the only answer was the
eerie silence of the woods. No rustling leaves, no chirping
crickets, Just nothing. I tried to stay calm, but my
thoughts were racing. Where could they have gone?
We'd all been together by the fire just a few minutes ago.
Had they run off because they'd seen the thing too?
Or was it? Was it something worse?
I didn't want to think about what could have happened to
them, but the blood on the ground wasn't exactly helping.
I spotted my hunting rifle lying near the fire pit and grabbed
it, feeling a bit better with the solid weight in my hands.
If that thing was still out there, I wasn't going down
without a fight. I took a few shaky breaths,
glancing into the trees, half expecting to see those hollow,
dark eyes staring back at me. The silence pressed down on me,
thicker than before. My skin crawled and I tightened
my grip on the rifle, ready for anything.
And then, just like that, it appeared.
A figure stepped out from the trees and into the faint light.
My heart sank as I recognized it.
That thing. It looked like a deer, but
wasn't. It stood upright on 2 twisted
Bony legs with eyes that seemed too deep, too knowing.
They stared right at me, like it was trying to see inside my
head, to read my fear. I raised the rifle, aiming
straight for its chest. My hands were shaking, but I
pulled the trigger, firing 3 quick shots.
The sound was deafening in the silent forest, but the creature
didn't flinch, not once I knew I'd hit it.
I couldn't have missed from that distance, but it just stood
there, tilting its head slightly as if amused.
Then it took a slow, deliberate step toward me.
I stumbled back, tripping over the log we'd been sitting on
earlier. My heart hammered in my chest as
I scrambled to my feet, trying to keep my eyes on it.
The thing's mouth opened, stretching wide, way too wide,
like it was trying to smile but didn't quite know how.
And then it spoke, its voice a perfect copy of Max's, but with
something hollow about it. Make your way over here, it
said, almost gently. I have something for you.
My blood went cold and I turned, running as fast as my legs would
carry me. I didn't care where I was going,
as long as it was far from that creature.
I just wanted to find Max and Ethan.
I wanted this nightmare to end. But even as I ran, I couldn't
shake the feeling that it was following me, slipping through
the trees, just out of sight, waiting for me to fall.
When I opened my eyes, the world felt fuzzy, like I was drifting
through a fog. It took me a minute to realize I
was lying on a stiff bed in a hospital room.
The light was bright, too bright, and my chest ached.
I tried to sit up, but the pain was sharp and I fell back onto
the bed, breathing heavily. A nurse appeared by my side, her
face kind but tired. You're awake.
She said gently. Take it easy, you've been
through a lot. My head felt scrambled, but
memories started piercing together like a broken puzzle.
The forest, the creature, Max and Ethan.
Panic flared up inside me. Where?
Where are my friends? I choked out, looking around,
half expecting to see that thing lurking in the corner of the
room. The nurse laid a hand on my arm.
They're here, They've been waiting to see you.
She gave me a sad smile and left the room.
Moments later, Max and Ethan stepped in.
They looked exhausted with dark circles under their eyes.
Relief flooded me and I tried to smile, but they didn't smile
back. They looked haunted.
Hey man. Max said, his voice barely above
a whisper. What happened?
I asked, the memories coming back in flashes.
The camp, the blood, that thing. Ethan swallowed, looking away.
We, we found you in the forest. After you ran off, we couldn't
find you. We searched for days, going in
circles, calling your name, but it was like the forest was
keeping us from finding you. Max nodded, his voice shaky.
When we finally did find you, you were lying back at the camp,
unconscious. You had these, these claw marks
on your chest, like something tried to.
He trailed off, staring at the floor.
I looked down, realizing for the first time that my chest was
covered in thick bandages. My skin prickled with fear.
Two days? I whispered.
It didn't make sense. It felt like I'd only been
running for minutes, maybe an hour, but two days?
Ethan took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to speak.
And there was something else. We kept hearing our names in the
forest. Sometimes it sounded like you,
sometimes like each other. But when we tried to follow the
voices, we'd end up right back where we started.
My skin went cold. They had heard the same voice I
had, that hollow, empty voice calling out, pretending to be
someone it wasn't. Max leaned forward, his voice
low. Whatever we saw.
Whatever that thing was, it wasn't human.
It knew us. It wanted something.
A shiver ran down my spine. But it let us go.
I whispered, more to myself than to them.
Why would it let us go? Neither of them answered, and a
heavy silence settled in the room.
We all knew we'd never find an answer.
The forest had given me back, but something told me it hadn't
finished with me. I could still feel its eyes
watching, waiting, and I knew deep down that one day it might
call for me again. In the quiet of the hospital
room, I could almost hear it, a faint whisper just beyond the
door saying make your way over here, I have something for you.
It was supposed to be just another camping trip.
Fun, a little spooky maybe, but nothing we couldn't handle.
Kevin, Sarah, Mia and I had planned this weekend in the
Arizona desert for months, wanting to explore a wild spot
we'd found online, right by an old Native American reservation.
It was exactly the kind of remote place where you could see
a million stars at night. But if we'd known what was
waiting for us out there, we'd never have gone.
The weirdness started at this little gas station right before
the desert stretched on forever. An old man with long silver hair
and a worn leather jacket was working behind the counter.
He gave us a funny look as we paid for snacks and water.
You kids be careful out there, He warned, eyeing our gear.
Don't go too far into the desert and don't wander off alone.
Kevin grinned and asked why that was Kevin always up for a creepy
story? The old man's eyes narrowed.
People say the Skinwalker hunts these parts.
It's a creature that wears people's faces, mimics voices,
even turns into animals to stalk its prey.
They say it knows what scares you the most.
I laughed it off, but a shiver ran down my spine.
Sarah just rolled her eyes. It's just a story, she said, and
we all piled back into the car. When we finally reached our
camping spot, I had to admit it was beautiful.
The red rocks jutted up like something out of an old western
movie, and the sky was huge, like it went on forever.
We pitched our tents in a circle around the fire pit just as the
sun started to dip behind the hills, painting the desert in
shades of pink and purple. After the tents were set up and
the fire was roaring, we all sat around telling ghost stories.
Kevin couldn't resist bringing up what the gas station guy said
about the skinwalker. Think about it.
He said, poking the fire with a stick.
Imagine something that could look like anyone it wanted.
Something that could walk right up to you, even pretend to be
someone you know. You'd never know if it was them
or it. The fire crackled and shadows
flickered on our faces. I noticed me, a shiver pulling
her hoodie tighter around her shoulders.
That's not funny, Kev. She whispered, glancing around
the desert as if the rocks might be listening.
Then, out of nowhere, a howl split the air, low and haunting.
We all froze, eyes wide, searching the dark.
It sounded close, too close, but when we looked, we didn't see
anything, just emptiness stretching out in every
direction. It's probably a coyote.
Jake muttered, but he didn't sound so sure.
We all tried to laugh it off, but something had changed.
I couldn't shake the feeling that the darkness wasn't empty
at all. It felt like something was out
there, just past the light of the fire, waiting, watching.
Kevin leaned in, lowering his voice.
They say if the skinwalker's close, you can hear it
whispering your name. Cut it out, Kev.
Sarah said, her voice tense, but he didn't stop.
And if it gets close enough, it'll look just like you.
None of us could laugh after that.
The desert had gone silent, except for the faint crackle of
the fire, and for the first time I felt a cold prickle of fear I
couldn't explain, like something invisible was watching us from
the darkness. That night I lay in my sleeping
bag, staring up at the roof of the tent, feeling a tightness in
my chest I couldn't shake. The desert was silent.
Too silent. There was no wind, no bugs, no
animal sounds. Just this thick, heavy quiet,
like even the rocks were holding their breath.
I was almost asleep when I heard it.
At first it was just a faint scratching noise, like something
brushing against the outside of the tent.
I told myself it was probably a small animal, maybe a coyote,
just sniffing around. But then I heard it again,
louder this time, and closer. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
My heart thudded. I didn't want to move, but I had
to look. Carefully, I unzipped the tent
just a bit, and peeked out. The fire was barely flickering
now, casting long shadows across the rocks.
I couldn't see anything, just empty desert stretching out Into
Darkness. But that feeling, that prickle
of being watched, was stronger than ever.
Then I heard Mia's voice, soft and scared, calling my name.
Jake, Jake, are you awake? I think I heard something.
I crawled out of the tent, pulling on my shoes and jacket.
Mia was standing by the dying fire, arms wrapped around
herself, looking out into the shadows.
Her face looked pale in the moonlight.
Did you hear it too? I whispered.
She nodded, her eyes wide. I think.
I think it's just an animal, right?
Like a coyote or something? Yeah, I said, but I didn't
believe it. I didn't know what I believed.
That's when Kevin's voice cut through the darkness, but it
wasn't the usual teasing, light hearted voice we knew.
It was different, strained, almost too low.
Hey, what are you 2 doing out here?
We both jumped as he stepped out of his tent, his eyes dull and
strange. He looked like he'd been awake
for hours, his skin pale, his hair sticking up at weird
angles. He had this odd expression on
his face, like he was trying to smile, but it just looked wrong.
Did I scare you guys? He asked, tilting his head a
little too far to the side. Stop messing around, Kevin.
Mia said, her voice shaking. He just stared at us, not saying
a word, that weird grin frozen on his face.
Finally, he chuckled, but it sounded off, like he was forcing
it. You 2 are such scaredy cats.
Something about him made my stomach twist.
Kevin was usually the first one to make a joke to break the
tension, but now he was just standing there, eyes glazed over
like he was seeing something far away that we couldn't see.
I opened my mouth to say something when suddenly from out
in the desert, I heard my own voice calling for help.
It was like a horrible echo, repeating my name in a twisted,
distorted way. Jake, Jake, help me.
I looked at Mia, panic rising in my chest, but she was just as
scared, her face pale as a ghost.
We both looked back at Kevin, who was just smiling at us, that
strange blank smile as if he knew something we didn't.
We backed away slowly, our eyes locked on Kevin, who kept
standing there, staring at us with that unnatural grin.
And in the silence, I swore I heard that same scratch,
scratch, scratch circling around us, moving closer.
Morning came, but it didn't bring the relief I was hoping
for. The sky was a washed out Gray,
and a heavy silence blanketed the camp.
None of us had slept much, not after last night.
I could see it in Sarah's tired eyes, the way Mia kept glancing
at Kevin, and the way Kevin, well, he wasn't acting like
himself. We need to get out of here.
Sarah whispered, her voice barely louder than the wind.
Something's wrong with him. She jerked her chin toward
Kevin, who was standing a little too still, staring off into the
distance. I nodded, swallowing hard.
Mia packed up as fast as she could, stuffing sleeping bags
and food into backpacks. My heart was pounding as I threw
things into my own pack, sneaking glances at Kevin.
His eyes were hollow, empty, like he was barely even there.
Come on, Kevin, I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
Let's get moving. He didn't respond, just stood
there, that odd crooked smile creeping back onto his face.
And then, slowly, he started to laugh, a soft, low laugh that
made my skin crawl. Kevin cut it out.
Mia hissed, her face pale. But he didn't stop.
Instead, he took a step toward us, and that's when I noticed
his face looked wrong. His eyes didn't look like
Kevin's anymore. They were darker, almost like
they belonged to someone or something else.
Panic surged through me. Run.
I shouted, grabbing Mia's arm as Sarah bolted ahead of us.
We raced through the desert, dodging rocks and cactus, barely
daring to look back. But then I heard it.
A heavy, thudding sound behind us, like footsteps, but
different. And then Kevin's voice echoed
out, twisted and stretched, calling our names in this awful,
broken tone. Jake, Mia, come back.
I knew that wasn't Kevin. I didn't know what it was, but
it was wearing Kevin's face, Kevin's voice, and it was after
us. We pushed ourselves harder,
sprinting until our lungs felt like they'd burst.
But no matter how far we ran, it felt like the desert was looping
back on itself. Every rock, every patch of
cactus started looking the same, like we were running in circles.
We're trapped. Sarah panted, clutching her
side. It's like we can't get away.
But then, through the haze of fear and exhaustion, I spotted
something. A break in the landscape, The
faint outline of the dirt Rd. we'd driven down to get here.
There. I shouted, pointing the road.
With one last burst of energy, we tore across the desert, the
wind whipping dust into our faces.
The footsteps behind us grew louder, closer, almost like they
were right at our heels. I didn't dare look back.
I just kept running. Every muscle screaming, every
heartbeat pounding in my ears. Finally we stumbled on to the
road, collapsing in a heap, gasping for air.
For a second the footsteps stopped and everything was
still. Then I looked up and saw Kevin,
or what used to be Kevin, standing at the edge of the
desert, watching us with that horrible smile.
He didn't cross on to the road, he just stood there, grinning as
if he was letting us go. This time we scrambled up, and
without another look back, we ran down the road until we could
see the faint outline of our car in the distance.
We piled in, locked the doors and floored it, speeding away
from that nightmare. But even now, miles away, I
can't shake the feeling of Kevin's empty eyes watching us,
waiting. And I know deep down that we
barely escaped with our lives. The Utah desert stretched out
before us, wide and silent. The red cliffs towered like
giants, and everything felt still, almost too still.
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling that
something was off. Eric didn't seem to notice.
He was busy setting up the tent, whistling to himself as he
worked. Did you hear what that old guy
said at the gas station? I asked, trying to sound casual.
Eric shrugged. You mean the one about a dark
things in the canyons? Probably just trying to scare
us. I forced to smile.
Maybe he was right. But the way that shopkeeper
looked at us, the way his eyes narrowed like he knew something
we didn't, made my skin crawl. I turned to look around.
Red rocks stretched far and wide, with strange shapes and
patterns carved into them, ancient marks.
I'd read that Native Americans had left these symbols here, but
even knowing that, I felt a little spooked.
As we got camp ready, shadows grew long across the desert.
The wind picked up, whistling low through the rocks, and I
felt like I could hear something faint in it, like whispers.
But every time I tried to listen closely, the sound disappeared.
Eric built a fire, and we sat close, laughing as we ate canned
soup and shared stories. But something still didn't feel
right. Everything was too quiet, even
the usual desert noises. No birds, no bugs, just a weird
kind of hush that pressed in from all sides.
Suddenly, I heard it, just barely, like a soft voice
carried on the wind. Did you hear that?
I whispered, my eyes darting around the darkening Canyon.
Eric looked up, raising an eyebrow.
Hear what? It sounded like a voice.
I said, straining to listen. My heart thudded in my chest.
Then, faintly, from somewhere out in the darkness, I heard it
again. A voice calling Help.
Eric's face went pale, but he shook his head.
Probably just an echo. These canyons do that, you know?
I tried to agree, but my skin prickled.
There was something in that voice, a pleading, desperate
sound. It was calling again, louder
this time. And then, to my horror, I heard
it call Eric. He froze.
OK, that's, that's weird. Let's just go in the tent.
I suggested, trying to sound braver than I felt.
We scrambled inside, zipping it up tight, huddling in the small,
dark space. Minutes passed.
Maybe it was nothing, I told myself, just the Canyon playing
tricks. But then we heard it.
A scratch against the side of the tent, Soft at first, like a
twig dragging across the fabric. Then louder, circling us.
My heart pounded in my throat. We held our breath, staring at
each other, too afraid to make a sound.
And then we heard it. A voice, my voice calling Eric.
Help. Eric's face turned white.
I knew it wasn't me outside, and judging by the terror in his
eyes, he knew it too. The scratching continued, slow
and steady, like something, someone was testing the tent.
Then it shifted to a low growl, circling us, moving outside.
We clutched each other, not daring to move, waiting in the
pitch black as something lurked just outside our flimsy tent
walls. The first light of dawn finally
crept over the Canyon walls, and Eric and I stepped outside the
tent, feeling like we'd barely slept.
The night had been filled with sounds that didn't belong, and I
couldn't shake the feeling that something, something awful had
been circling us in the dark. But that wasn't even the worst
part. As I looked down, I froze.
All around our campsite were strange footprints.
They looked almost like animal tracks, but not quite.
They were too large, and the claws they dug deep into the
earth like whatever made them was something heavy.
Eric leaned over them, his face pale.
What kind of animal would even make prints like these?
He whispered, more to himself than to me.
I shook my head, swallowing hard.
I wanted to leave, but a part of me, a part I didn't understand,
wanted to follow those prints. It was like they were calling
me. I took a few steps, tracing the
path of the tracks deeper into the Canyon.
Lena, wait. Eric hissed, catching up to me.
Are you seriously following them?
I don't know, Eric. I whispered back, feeling my
heart pound. I just, I feel like we need to
know what it was. He looked at me like I was
crazy, but he followed, and together we started moving
further into the Canyon. The path wound between tall,
silent cliffs that blocked the sun, casting deep shadows.
The air felt heavy, thick with a smell that made my stomach turn
like something old and rotten. The footprints LED us through a
narrow pass, and as we came out the other side, we saw something
that made us both stop cold. There, arranged in a twisted,
disturbing pattern on the ground, were bones, dozens of
them, bleached white and laid out in spirals and strange
shapes I couldn't understand. They looked like they'd been
there a long time, yet something about them felt fresh, like
they'd been touched recently. Oh my God.
Eric whispered, his voice barely a breath.
Lena, this isn't right. We need to leave.
But as he said it, I saw something carved into the rock
beside us, cymbals painted in a dark red that looked almost like
it was still wet. They were strange shapes, unlike
anything I'd ever seen, like warnings etched into stone.
My hand reached out to touch one, and a shiver shot up my
spine, like the rock itself was alive.
And then a sound, low and rumbling, like a growl coming
from the depths of the earth. Eric grabbed my arm, his eyes
wide with fear. We're leaving now, he said,
yanking me back toward the way we'd come.
But as we turned, something moved at the edge of the
shadows. A shape, tall, twisted, with
limbs that seemed to bend in unnatural ways.
Its eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and when it took a
step forward, I could see it was watching us.
The creature took another step, then paused, tilting its head
like it was studying us, and then, to my horror, it opened
its mouth and called out in my own voice, soft and pleading.
Eric, help. That was it.
We turned and ran, stumbling over rocks, our breaths coming
fast and sharp as we heard it pacing behind us, echoing our
footsteps. We didn't stop running.
Every time I glanced back, I expected to see it right behind
us, it's twisted body, those glowing eyes.
But the Canyon just stretched, empty, quiet except for our
gasping breaths. The creature was gone for now.
Eric. I whispered.
We can't keep running, we're just going in circles.
He slowed down, looking around, his eyes wild.
Then what do we do? If we stop, it'll find us.
I tried to think, but my brain felt frozen.
Then I remembered the rock formation we'd passed earlier,
the one with strange symbols carved into it.
Something about it had felt safe somehow, like it held some kind
of ancient protection. I think I know where we can
hide, I said, grabbing his arm. The rock formation, the one with
those old symbols. It's back that way.
Eric looked at me, his face full of doubt.
But he nodded, and together we crept back the way we'd come,
sticking close to the Canyon walls.
Every shadow felt like it was watching us.
Every sound made us flinch. The sun was going down, casting
everything in a creepy reddish glow.
Finally, we reached the rocks. They stood in 1/2 circle, tall
and jagged, with strange faded symbols painted on them.
I didn't know what they meant, but something deep inside me
told me they were important. We pressed our backs against the
rocks, keeping our eyes on the Canyon in front of us.
For a moment there was just silence.
But then a shuffling sound came from the shadows.
It was here. The creature stepped out from
behind a boulder, moving slowly, its limbs jerking in weird
angles. It looked almost human, but not
quite. Its arms were too long, its face
stretched and wrong, and its eyes gleamed with a sickly
yellow light. It moved toward US1, slow,
shuffling step at a time, and every time it stepped closer, I
felt a wave of cold fear roll over me.
Then it spoke. In a twisted, hollow version of
my own voice, it called out. Eric, Lena, come closer.
Eric grabbed my hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt.
Lena, what are we going to do? We stay here?
I whispered, hoping I sounded braver than I felt.
I think. I think it can't come closer
because of the symbols. The creature paused, tilting its
head as if it understood what I'd said.
Its eyes narrowed, and it let out a low, angry growl.
Then it took another step, stretching its hand toward us.
But as it got closer to the rocks, it seemed to hit
something, an invisible barrier that made it hiss in pain.
The creature shrieked, a sound that echoed through the Canyon
and made my ears ring. It paced back and forth, just
inches away, its eyes filled with a rage so intense I felt it
burning through me. I gripped Eric's hand, holding
on as tightly as I could, praying for dawn to come.
We stayed there all night, pressed against the rocks,
barely breathing. The creature circled us again
and again, howling and clawing at the air, it's twisted form
shifting in and out of the shadows.
But it couldn't reach us. Finally, as the first rays of
sunlight crept over the Canyon walls, the creature let out a
final, furious shriek and melted back into the darkness.
We waited a few minutes, then stumbled out of the Canyon, too
tired and scared to speak. As we climbed into the car, I
looked back one last time. The rocks stood silently
watching us, guarding the secret they'd kept for centuries, and I
knew we'd barely escaped alive. I felt like the luckiest kid
alive. My parents were finally trusting
me enough to leave me home alone for the weekend.
They were off to visit my aunt and uncle, a trip I was happy to
skip since my uncle was strict about everything from clothing
to house rules. Honestly, he scared me more than
anything else with his serious lectures about respect and
discipline. When my mom said I didn't have
to go, I almost jumped for joy. As they got ready to leave, Mom
and Dad gave me the usual warnings.
They'd left emergency numbers on the fridge, enough food to last
me the weekend, and a strict warning to call them if anything
went wrong. I nodded along, barely
listening, already planning what I'd do with my freedom.
When they finally backed out of the driveway, I stood at the
window and waved, feeling a small twist of nerves.
But as soon as they were out of sight, I closed the blinds and
grinned. This was my weekend.
I had movies lined up, video games to beat, and a stash of
snacks all to myself. I started in the living room,
turning on the TV and sinking into the couch.
I clicked from channel to channel, letting my brain go
numb. The silence around me felt a bit
eerie, but I tried not to think about it.
About an hour later, something happened that jolted me out of
my lazy days. There was a knock on the front
door, loud and echoing. My heart jumped, and for a
second I just sat there, listening to the quiet after the
knock. Who would be here?
I wasn't expecting anyone, and my parents hadn't said anything
about a visitor. After a moment, I got up and
walked slowly to the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
I took a deep breath, then cracked the door open.
Nobody was there. I opened it wider, looking down
the empty porch, and noticed a small, plain package on the
steps. No note, no address, it just sat
there like someone had dropped it off and vanished.
I brought the package inside, telling myself it was nothing.
Maybe a delivery guy had mixed up the houses.
Setting it on the kitchen counter, I took a few deep
breaths and shook off the weird feeling in my stomach.
I tried to get back into my evening, planning to just forget
about it, but when I walked back into the living room, something
made my skin prickle. The TV was on, even though I was
certain I'd turned it off before I went to the door.
It was flickering static, just the black and white fuzz filling
the screen. Hissing softly, I stood there
staring at it, my heart pounding.
Had I accidentally hit the remote or something?
I quickly grabbed the remote and turned it off, annoyed at how
jittery I felt, but the silence afterwards seemed louder than
ever. Shaking my head, I walked back
to my room. I needed to get my mind off
things. Video games would help distract
me, I thought. I'd just lose myself in my game
and soon enough everything would feel normal again.
I was so into my game that I almost forgot the weird stuff
from earlier. Hours passed and the sky outside
turned completely dark. I only noticed because when I
finally took my headphones off, the room was so quiet it felt
like my ears were buzzing. I rubbed my eyes and looked at
the clock. It was already past midnight.
I stretched, trying to shake off the weird tense feeling that had
crept back into my stomach. I decided it was time for a
break. I headed to the kitchen to grab
some water. That's when I first heard it.
Tap, tap, tap. It was a soft, rhythmic sound,
like someone lightly knocking. I froze, listening closely.
It seemed distant, but I couldn't tell where it was
coming from. I looked around the dark
kitchen, feeling my skin prickle with goosebumps.
Maybe it was just the pipes or something.
Houses made weird noises sometimes, right?
But as I took a sip of water, the tapping started again.
This time, it sounded like it was moving, coming from
somewhere in the living room. The sound got a bit louder, like
it was getting closer. My hand tightened around the
glass, and I held my breath, trying to keep absolutely silent
to hear better. The tapping paused, then started
again, this time right outside my bedroom door.
My chest tightened. This didn't make any sense.
The house was empty. I was the only one here.
Trying to calm myself, I told myself it had to be my
imagination, maybe a branch hitting a window or something
outside. I headed back to my room, trying
to ignore the feeling that something wasn't right.
I climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin and telling
myself I was being silly. It was just a normal night and
everything was fine. But then I heard the tapping
again. This time it was coming from
above me. My eyes widened and I stared up
at the ceiling. My breath came in quick, shallow
gasps as the tapping grew louder, echoing right above my
bed. I watched, terrified, as
something dark and thin started to push through the ceiling.
A hand. My whole body froze as another
hand slowly appeared beside it, fingers long and pale.
I could see every detail of its ghostly white skin.
Then strands of long black hair slipped through the ceiling,
trailing down like wet ropes. My heart was pounding so hard I
thought it would burst. The head began to push through,
twisting and bending in ways that didn't seem human.
I couldn't look away as the face appeared, glassy eyes staring
blankly, black hair covering parts of it.
But the mouth was the worst. Her mouth was wide open and
there was no lower jaw, just a gaping hole where her mouth
should have been, her tongue dangling loose and swinging like
a broken clock. My body finally snapped into
action. I yanked the covers over my
head, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing it would all just go
away. But I could still hear her, that
awful wet breathing and the scraping of her fingers against
my ceiling. I didn't dare move.
I couldn't breathe. I lay under the covers, shaking,
barely daring to peek out, but the horrible sound of her
fingers scraping closer kept getting louder.
I knew I couldn't just stay there, hoping she'd disappear.
I had to move. I took a deep breath, bracing
myself, and slowly pulled the covers down just enough to see
she was still there, hanging from the ceiling, her head
twisted in a strange angle, her empty, glassy eyes staring right
at me. Her hands reached toward me,
fingers like ice, moving so close I could feel the chill.
Her mouth was an empty, gaping hole, her jaw missing, her
tongue hanging out like something dead.
In that moment, something in me snapped, and I felt the scream
RIP through me. I threw myself off the bed,
landing hard on the floor, and scrambled for the door, not even
looking back. I could feel her behind me, that
terrible cold pressing against my back, her wheezing breath
filling the room. I burst into the hallway,
slamming the door behind me, my heart racing so fast it hurt.
I dashed down the hall, barely seeing where I was going.
My mind was spinning, my only thought to get as far away from
her as possible. I grabbed my phone off the
couch, fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped it as I hit the
call button for my parents. My mom answered on the second
ring, her voice groggy. Honey, it's late.
Is everything OK? I could barely speak, my words
tumbling out in a panicked mess. Mom, please, please don't hang
up. There was, there's something in
my room. This woman, she's, she was in my
ceiling, and I couldn't even find the right words to describe
what I'd seen. She was right above me.
I don't know what's happening. There was a pause on the other
end of the line, and then my mom's voice softened.
Sweetheart, it's OK. You probably just had a
nightmare. You're home alone, and it's
dark. It's natural to feel scared.
No? I insisted, my voice shaking.
It wasn't a nightmare, she was real, I swear.
Mom sighed, clearly trying to be patient.
Look, just take a deep breath, check your room if it makes you
feel better, I promise there's nothing there.
We'll be home tomorrow night, can you wait until then?
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me, swallowing the
lump in my throat. OK, I'll try.
I hung up, but I didn't go back to my room.
I knew what I'd seen, even if it sounded crazy.
There was no way I was going back in there.
I ended up sitting on the living room couch, every light in the
house on, staring at the TV but not really watching.
I stayed like that until morning, my eyes heavy and my
body aching with exhaustion. When the sun finally started to
rise, I crept back to my room. I had to see if she was really
gone. The room looked normal, but as I
glanced up at the ceiling, I froze.
There, faint but unmistakable, were scratches.
Long, thin lines right where her fingers had been reaching.
My heart sank. I wasn't alone that night, and I
wasn't imagining it.