I'll Royale national park has always had a way of drawing
people back, something about its raw, Solitude, and silence.
The way, the thick Spruce forests and dark glacial, lakes
seem to hold their breath Visitors typically mention the
wolves and moose the chili fog, that shrouds the island most
mornings or the rocky coastlines battered by Lake Superior.
But ask about the remote fire lookout on, feltman Ridge and
the conversations quickly change.
Park staff deflect, seasoned hikers, shake their heads and
Maps suddenly appear incomplete with Trails abruptly, ending
before the ridge itself in the summer of 1998.
I didn't know anything about that.
Look at it was my first season as a ranger on Isle Royale.
I'd studied by biology camped plenty and was confident
handling isolated work. My partner, Aaron Hall had been
a ranger on the island before Army.
Trained efficient quiet. He was the type of meticulous
log book, in rarely smiled. Unless he meant it, we arrived
at feltman Ridge by float, plane, from windigo station on a
crystal clear, August morning. The pilot banked hard descending
toward a small pond then glided gently to rest against its
surface. We climbed out unloaded our gear
and stood watching as the plane lifted off.
Again, the buzz of its engine rapidly Fading Into the
distance. As we turn toward the lookout
tower, a simple steel structure, atop a rocky outcrop, I felt an
odd tightening in my chest. The isolation wasn't new, but
something about this Ridge, felt more severe empty, or like it
was detached even from the Wilderness around it.
The first week passed smoothly, Aaron fell quickly into a
routine, whether checks patrols radio, logs at 6:00 a.m. in 6
p.m. we made routine calls, back to headquarters monotonous.
Confirmations of our presence and safety.
I filled out my time. Walking trails and observing
wildlife. but Wildlife, sightings were sparse, even the
Birds seemed reluctant to settle near the ridge, the silence was
heavy, I wrote about it in the log half, joking.
It's like someone turned off the volume of here.
Aaron glanced at my notes. Gave a non-committal Grunt and
went back to his task then one night.
It changed. It was late 215.
Exactly. According to the glowing face of
my watch, when a sudden burst of static tour, through the
handheld radio resting on my bunk, I sat up sharply, heart
pounding. After a beat a clear deliberate
click echoed through the speaker followed by several seconds of
empty silence. Then another click Aaron I
whispered turning toward his bunk, he lay motionless staring
up at the ceiling atmospheric bounce, he muttered Lake
Reflections. Probably I wanted to believe him
but the timing felt wrong. I didn't sleep again.
That night the next morning, we walked the grace creek trail.
The sky was overcast. Turning the trees.
Emitted gray, green, blending into one another, until the
woods felt endless. Aaron, stopped abruptly his
boots skidding slightly on the moss covered stones.
You okay? I asked glancing ahead he didn't
respond instead he pointed downward eyes locked on the
forest floor. Deep boot prints pressed fresh
into the soft Moss unmistakable and heavy beside them bare
Footprints, emerged sinking, even deeper into the Earth.
Someone's out here. He murmured crouching down and
brushing a hand against the imprint.
His eyes darted up scanning the forest.
Is there a scheduled Patrol? I asked Aaron shook his head
slowly. No one's come through when to go
for days. Nobody should be here.
Exchanged. Uneasy looks Aaron said, nothing
else straightened up and started back toward the tower.
His pace quickened. I hurried after him unable to
shake the feeling we weren't alone.
That evening as Darkness settled in like ink seeping through
water. We checked the trail camera.
It was set to detect, lightning strikes or Wildlife movements.
Aaron pulled the memory card. Loading it onto the rugged,
laptop, we sifted through images branches, empty Forest until one
shot, froze. Aaron mid scroll at the edge of
the camera's range. Half hidden behind.
A spruce was a tall figure blurred slightly by motion.
It seemed to be crouching. Its limbs unnaturally along
gated. No gear, no backpack, no
discernible clothing, just a dark silhouette caught mid-step.
Aaron stared at its silently. He was breathing, slow and
measured jaw tightening. What is that?
I asked, finally my voice strained.
He didn't answer immediately instead he zoomed in closer, the
image pixelating into uselessness.
Probably just someone trespassing.
He finally said not convincingly.
But we need to be careful. Keep your radio charged.
That night Aaron slept with his boots on, I lay awake listening
to the Silent Forest outside convinced.
I could hear faint movements beneath the tower.
I kept checking the radio half expecting another burst of
static or a slow rhythmic click. By Dawn, nothing else had
happened, but the feeling of unease lingard like smoke after
a fire. Aaron hardly spoke even at
breakfast. He seemed tense alert, his hand.
Never far from the radio or the emergency Beacon clip to his
belt. As I stepped outside that
morning scanning the tree line, I realized the silence had
changed, it wasn't just quiet. It felt oppressive.
As though, the forest around feltman Ridge, was holding
itself. Absolutely still waiting on the
morning, Aaron disappeared. The first thing I noticed was
how still the tower. Felled usually Aaron was awake.
Before me coffee, brewing, logs, neatly updated, Today, there was
only silence a heavy oppressive quiet that pressed in from all
sides, I glanced across the room.
Aaron's bunk was empty the sheets on touched his boots were
by the door. Unease prickled along my neck.
As I got up slowly pulling on my jacket and stepping onto the
deck. Outside a thin Mist curled
through the Treetops. Blurring the forest below.
Aaron, I called my voice caring flatly through the trees only
silence responded. Back inside, I flipped through
the logbook Aaron's. Last entry was brief time,
stamped at 23 48, the previous night.
Heard movement again same area going to check it out.
Will loop back in 20 minutes? That had been nearly eight hours
ago. I reached for the radio thumbing
the transmitter when to go HQ feltman Lookout Ranger Hall is
unaccounted for please advise Static crackled, empty and
mocking after a few long seconds, I repeated the message
again. No answer frustration and fear
tightened in my chest I grabbed my gear.
A radio flash light in Aaron spare compass, and set off down
the grace creek trail. Retracing yesterday's steps.
The forest swallowed me almost immediately closing in tight
enough to feel claustrophobic. A mile down the trail near the
same spot. We'd found the footprints
yesterday. My pulse quickened, the ground
here was Disturbed Moss flat and white irregular patches.
Ahead. Something caught my eye hanging
from a low-hanging. Spruce branch.
Aaron's hat, its brim clean and free of any dirt or debris
dangled gently from a small twig.
His ranger badge polished and gleaming as though freshly
cleaned was cleaned to the branch just below it.
The deliberate neatness turned my stomach cold.
Below in The Damp Earth. Fresh Tracks pressed deeply into
the mud Barefoot. Long Toed larger than anything
I'd ever seen. They let into dense brush
snapping branches and crushing foliage, not Aaron's boots, not
his stride, something heavy or my heart beat faster carefully.
I removed Aaron's badge and hat slipping them into my pack.
A sudden Russell came from deeper within the trees sharpen
abrupt, I froze holding my breath straining.
My ears silence settled back, heavily a silence.
So completed seemed unnatural, I backed away.
Slowly eyes fixed on the trees until I reached the trail again.
By the time I returned to the lookout.
Twilight had begun settling over feltman Ridge.
Clouds thickened overhead dulling the light.
I barricaded the tower door, wedging a chair, beneath the
handle. The radio remained useless,
static or silence, my only reward.
Panic clawed at my chest. Forcing me to take steady
measured breaths. after an hour of pacing and failed radio
attempts, I remembered the trail camera I retrieved the memory
card with shaking fingers, plugging it into the laptop and
scrolling quickly to the latest shots.
The first few frames, showed empty, Forest the usual Shadows
of branches and Moonlight filtering through leaves.
Then my breath caught sharply in grainy black and white.
The figure stood directly beneath the tower tall along
gated arms disproportionately long.
It was bent awkwardly neck Twisted as if to look upward its
face or whatever passed. For a face was blurred obscured
by Shadow. Its body was thin and sinewy
devoid of clothes or fur. My pulse thundered in my ears
drowning out any coherent thoughts.
I stared at the screen unable to Blink or move muscles Frozen.
This was no trespasser. This wasn't human.
Suddenly the radio in my hand burst alive a harsh blast of
static nearly causing me to drop it.
My heart lurched painfully as a familiar.
Click echoed through the speaker, click silence, click my
throat tightened, Aaron, I whispered hoarsely into the
microphone, no response, only another faint.
Rhythmic click like breathing, slow and deliberate then silence
again, the woods outside Creek is if shifting underweight Heavy
footfalls cautious and deliberate circled slowly around
the base of the Tower. Each step resonated through the
wooden structure beneath me. I held my breath listening
closely trying to track its movements.
A sudden subtle pressure changed in the boards directly beneath
my feet, whatever it was, it had stepped onto the first run of
the stairs. I gripped, the radio desperately
wendigo HQ feltman Ridge emergency respond.
Now I hissed urgently voice shaking only static returned.
I tried again over and over my voice growing louder more
frantic the creaking stopped abruptly Silence returned, deep
and unsettling. I waited years straining eyes,
fixed on the bolted door. Then slowly carefully, the
handle of the door began to twist.
I raise the radio instinctively as if it might offer some
protection. The knob halted against the
barricade. After a moment, it released.
Springing back into place with a hollow metallic.
Clang the footsteps moved away. Retreating slowly toward the
forest edge. After what felt like an eternity
silence returned, completely. Still clutching the radio.
I sank to the floor staring at the locked door.
Hours passed as night dragged on and exhaustion finally,
overwhelmed the fear. Pulling me reluctantly into a
shallow Restless sleep, filled with half-formed dreams of
elongated Limbs and Silent forests.
When I awoke at dawn, the barricade was still intact.
The forest was silent again. Empty and waiting But I knew
deep in my gut that would ever had come last night, would
return. I barely recognized the sound of
another human voice when the radio crackled at dawn, two days
later. Dispatched to feltman Ridge.
Come in, feltman, Ridge. Can you copy?
My fingers trembled, as I keyed the mic.
My voice cracked and horse. Wendigo dispatch.
This is feltman Ridge. Ranger Hall is missing.
I I need immediate extraction. Copy that whether has cleared
enough to get a boat out, your way.
ETA approximately two hours, hold tight.
The radio fell silent again, relief flooded through me, brief
and fleeting immediately replaced by unease.
Two hours, seemed an eternity. I packed my gear quickly staying
as quiet as possible. Every sound the zipper on my
pack, the gentle scrape of boots on wood seemed magnified.
The forest had settled into its usual, oppressive silence
though. I know longer trusted it,
occasionally Shadows shifted among the trees tricking my eyes
into seeing things that weren't there or worse that were When
the distant hum of an engine, finally broke the silence, I
rushed out side pulse racing. Below the ridge.
I Saw The NPS boat slowly approaching along the lake
shore. Two Park Rangers and a coast
guard. Medic stepped off onto the rocky
Bank. They waved me down.
I didn't hesitate half running half sliding down the trail
desperate to leave the tower behind.
You. Okay?
One of the Rangers asked giving me a quick once-over, I nodded
trying and failing to Steady My Breath.
Aaron's been missing for two days.
I said there's something else out here.
I don't know what it is, but it's dangerous.
The ranger glanced at the medic. Exchanging, an unreadable.
Look. Let's get you out.
First, he said, gently, we'll come back with a bigger crew.
I glanced back toward the trees as we boarded the boat.
Even from the Lake feltman Ridge, looked darker somehow.
As if the woods themselves, had grown denser overnight, Two days
later after being examined and questioned at windigo.
I stood again on the shore watching a larger search party
Assemble. They brought extra radios.
Dogs trained for tracking and more Firearms than seemed
typical for a missing person. Search The lead Ranger Doug
Kendall a veteran, supervisor placed a hand on my shoulder
will find Aaron. He promised quietly though?
His eyes betrayed skepticism? Stay here and rest.
I nodded mechanically I had no intention of going back up their
hours passed reports trickled in over the radio footprints found
near Grace Creek strange disturbances in the underbrush
but no Aaron no sign of anyone alive.
Late in the afternoon, Doug radioed back his voice, oddly
tense. We found something by a small
Lake West of feltman tower. Meet us at the dock.
I hurried down to the dock to meet the returning team.
Doug's face was Grim as he approached holding something
bundled carefully under his arm. As he said it, gently down my
stomach clenched and Dread Erin's uniform.
Lay folded with precise neatness on the docks.
Whether would Shirt pants jacket.
Even his boots were arranged meticulously as if placed there
by someone with infinite patience.
A top, the uniform, Satan's radio still powered on.
I reached for it. Hesitantly pressing the playback
button. The digital readout flashed
briefly, indicating a stored recording.
We leaned close heads bowed. Listening intently as static
crackled. Softly, for over a minute.
There was nothing then clearly slowly.
And exhale. Breathed out a wet deliberate
chilling side directly into the mic.
The sound Trail off leaving silence behind.
The Rangers glanced uneasily at one, another Doug shook his head
visibly unsettled animal interference.
He murmured but the tremble in his voice gave him away.
I swallowed hard staring at the folded clothing.
That's no animal. I whispered it was waiting.
It watched us Aaron stepped off the trail and it took him.
Doug stared at me, his jaw tightening.
You don't have to come back, he said softly this Lookout this
area, it won't reopen, whatever this was we can't risk it again.
We stood silently listening to the wind Ripple across the
water. Feltman Ridge, stood dark in the
distance unchanged, silent. And still In the weeks and
months that followed the tower was quietly decommissioned.
Aaron Hall's case, File remained.
Open but uninvestigated. The island returned to normal as
if deliberately forgetting, what had happened but I never forgot.
A decade passed before I finally spoke publicly and interview
with a podcast, dedicated to Wilderness Mysteries.
Even then the words were difficult.
Whatever it was up there at new us, I said quietly it knew our
routines, our voices, it imitated our signals, it waited
until one of us got too close. Aaron stepped off the path and
it took him and it left that uniform as a message.
A warning for whoever came next. I paused taking a slow shaking
breath, remembering the sound on that final recording.
It was patient, it was silent and it was still there when I
left. Apache, sick, Greaves National
Forest is vast enough to make a person feel small stretching
over 2 million Acres of Eastern Arizona's rugged, terrain.
Most people picture it as endless Pines and Rolling Hills
peaceful and quiet a place you go.
When you need to get away from civilization, but fire can
change things overnight, and when lightning sparked, the bear
jaw burn last summer, it didn't just reshape the landscape.
It seemed to reshape something else.
Something deeper, my assignment was straightforward.
After 27,000 Acres had burned through a remote section called
pigeon Hollow. The forest service sent me in to
monitor regrowth, Wildlife movements and the overall
recovery of the forest. I done plenty of solo fieldwork
before and I preferred it. The isolation never bothered me.
In fact, I craved it. A week alone in the woods,
always cleared my head but this time felt different from the
start. I arrived at my base camp.
In early afternoon setting up in an Old Forest Service York.
Simple canvas stretched over a wooden frame, nestled among
scorched ponderosas, that loomed black and skeletal against the
clear, Arizona sky. After stashing, my gear and
checking my GPS, I made the rounds to the first set of trail
cameras, installed a month earlier.
Camera station number one, checked out, fine images, of
deer and Bobcat clearly visible. At camera station.
Number two, however, something was off.
The camera was intact, but the strap had come loose and the
whole unit had sagged downward photographing nothing but dry
Earth. I tightened it, replaced the
batteries and made a note. Nothing alarming, just typical
fieldwork hiccups. By the time I got back to Camp,
Twilight had stained the sky. A bruised purple dinner was
canned beans warmed over a small propane stove and afterward I
logged my days observations in to a battered notebook.
When darkness fully took hold silence followed deep almost
palpable. I fell asleep.
Fast worn out from the long hike but something pulled me awake
hours later. At first, I lay motionless.
Unsure, what had Disturbed me the inside of the yurt was Pitch
Black and Beyond the canvas, walls silence stretched in every
direction. Then the sound came again along
guttal scream. So sharp, it felt like metal,
scraping metal, it Rose echoed and tapered off into a horse.
Broken cry, Almost Human but not quite I sat up straight
gripping, my sleeping bag, adrenaline, flooding, my veins,
my mind scrambled for logical, explanations mountain, lion,
elk, bugle. Distorted by distance, or maybe
just some nocturnal Predator. I waited in silence heart
thudding painfully another scream pierced, the night,
louder and longer than before whatever made that sound was
Miles off, but it carried a raw desperation that froze, my
blood, I wanted to reach for my radio, or at least my pistol,
but found myself paralyzed, listening, as the sound faded
into an unnatural quiet again. Finally, after 20 minutes of 10
silencer I reached out slowly picked up my GPS and marked the
approximate Direction, East North East deep within the
burned area of pigeon Hollow. The morning couldn't arrive.
Quickly enough. At dawn the sky lit, a faint
pink Above, The Shard Ridgeline still shaking I set out early
eager to convince myself everything was normal.
The sun rose higher. As I moved toward cameras
station number 3, hoping the daylight would ease my nerves,
but when I reached the spot, my unease only deepened, the camera
was gone not damaged, not vandalized completely missing.
The heavy nylon mounting strap hung limp frayed where it had
snapped. I checked the surrounding area
carefully but there were no Footprints, no animal tracks,
nothing indicating where the camera might have gone.
Frustrated, I continued on to camera station number 4 deeper
into the burn scar. My boots, crunched softly over
blackened pine needles and Ash. Occasionally patches of
untouched green. Peeked through a hopeful sign of
renewal that now felled oddly out of place.
Cameras station number 4 was missing too, this time with
something stranger left behind a glob of melted plastic.
Stuck firmly to a rock nearby, no animal of could cause damage
like that. Vandalism crossed my mind.
But who would hike miles into a burned out Forest just to
destroy trail cameras? Back at camp that evening.
I radioed my supervisor down in Show Low He took the information
calmly almost casually until I mentioned by exact location.
He hesitated static crackling for a moment, then finally spoke
up. You might be near an old sight.
Lotta history out there. Stay aware, he disconnected with
out. Elaborating leaving me staring
blankly at the silent radio. Knight fell quickly, despite the
growing apprehension in my gut. I climbed into my sleeping bag
determined to get through the next few days calmly and
professionally but the moment Darkness surrounded.
The yurt. Again the silence no longer felt
peaceful, it felt like a trap. I woke early with the strange.
Sounds of the previous night still echoing in my ears.
Dawn felt like relief but it was short-lived.
After a quick breakfast of coffee and jerky, I loaded my
gear into a backpack and set out toward camera station.
Number 2, hoping the daylight might finally dispel my anxiety.
The air was Chris with lingering sense of char and pine.
A gentle breeze, Russell through the burnt out, Forest shaking,
soot and Ash from skeletal branches onto the trail.
I reached station number two, just after 8:00, but something
immediately caught my attention from a distance, something dark
against the brightening Sky. It was oddly vertical Stark
against the backdrop of scorched trees.
Moving closer. My footsteps slowed.
The site came into clearer focus and disbelief crawled slowly up
my throat. And Elk carcass stood upright
against a large ponderosa. Pine, its hind legs, awkwardly
folded beneath it front Hooves dangling, grotesquely forward,
My mind struggled to understand how this animal easily 500
pounds or more could have ended up positioned like that.
The Elks fur was burned singed black around the shoulders, and
ribs exposing patches of blistered skin and raw flesh.
Its neck Twisted on naturally, head drooping forward.
Flies buzzed in a dark shifting halo around its skull.
I Stood Still Frozen. My pulse accelerating.
There were no drag marks, no obvious, blood splatter, no
Predator. Would do something like this. no
scavenger would prop an animal upright as if displayed
deliberately, I circled carefully examining the ground
No, human boot prints, no tire tracks nothing but a scattering
of pine needles and charcoal fragments.
It was like the carcass had simply appeared placed silently
in the night. My stomach churned.
I snapped photographs, quickly logged, the GPS coordinates and
retreated, several yards trying to slow my breathing.
The silence felt oppressive the weight of something unseen
pressing from every direction. I turned back toward Camp eager
to report this anomaly immediately.
I'd spent years in forests, logging thousands of hours,
tracking wildlife, and cataloging animal remains.
But nothing had ever left me feeling so inexplicably,
Disturbed. After returning, to the yurt, I
checked my radio, it seemed functional, but my attempts to
reach the ranger station in Show Low were met with static and
silence. frustrated and unsettled I sat on my cot
struggling to think clearly the previous night scream echoed,
once more through my mind mingling with images of the
unnatural elk, Determined to regain control of the situation,
I decided to scout the perimeter of the camp.
I grabbed my backpack in binoculars and moved Eastward
where faint disturbances in the soil, caught, my attention,
Impressions, subtle and a regular leading toward a stand
of blackened trees in Tangled brush. 20 minutes of careful.
Tracking led me to something hidden.
Beneath the dense Pine's a weather, half collapsed, wooden
shed. the structure was ancient its roof sagging heavily moss
covered beams splintered and cracked from Decades of
Abandonment a rusted usfs placard hung Loosely from one
corner faded, letters barely legible I approached slowly
pulse pounding in my temples. The wooden door, hung crookedly
on loose hinges. Scratches covered it.
Deep gouges, sliced into the wood, at least 10 feet above the
ground claw marks wider than any mountain lion.
Could leave each slash radiated strength.
Like something had repeatedly tried to claw its way inside My
heart skipped. As I noticed, several metallic
objects, nailed to the center of the door.
I moved closer dread forming cold knots in my stomach.
Five old Ranger badges each corroded in weathered had been
hammered into place? I leaned in and examining them
closely one red, clearly US Forest Service 1978.
Another had the date 1996 at faintly beneath Grime and
corrosion. The last one held no visible,
date, or name, worn Smooth by time.
I stepped back sharply, breathing unevenly now.
What was this place? Why hadn't, anyone warned me
about it before? Sending me out here alone inside
the shed, the Shadows felt thick and impenetrable.
The smell of ammonia. Stung, my nose sharp, and
overpowering against better judgment.
I took a cautious step inside flash, light shaking, in my
hand. The beam revealed overturned,
shelving broken equipment, and a layer of dust disturbed by
recent movement, but there was nothing else, no explanation, no
obvious, signs of habitation. I retreated into daylight
relieved to feel fresh air again.
Quickly almost desperately. I set up a trail camera pointed
directly at the shed door. I wasn't leaving this spot
without answers. With the camera position
securely. I hurried back to Camp as
daylight began to fade dinner passed, intense silence anxiety,
gnawing relentlessly at my nerves.
I radioed show low again hoping for some confirmation or
guidance but still nothing just the Eerie emptiness of static.
When darkness settled fully, I climbed into my sleeping bag
exhausted but Wide Awake, every Creak of the Yurts canvas walls
sounded like footsteps approaching outside my hand
rested. Tensley on the grip of my pistol
beneath the sleeping bag. At precisely 3:21 a.m. the
scream tore through the night again closer, louder, more
visceral than before. It echoed sharp and raw through
the Blackness ending abruptly in a choking gurgle.
Before I could move something heavy slammed against the side
of the yurt rattling. The walls violently my
breathing, stopped my heart, hammered violently, in my chest,
blood, roaring in my ears. I squeezed the pistol tighter
waiting for whatever came next. But nothing followed nothing but
silence and darkness. I lay awake, eyes wide, open
every muscle, trembling outside the forest waited quietly.
As if holding its breath, I didn't sleep another minute that
night. By the time, Dawn seeped through
the canvas walls, exhaustion burned, my eyes and left.
Me hollowed out. Every muscle ached with tension.
My fingers trembled as I pulled on my boots scanning, the thin
walls of the yurt half expecting to see claw marks or torn canvas
outside. The morning was deceptively
quiet, clear skies contrasting sharply with my lingering dread
grabbing my gear. I quickly started back toward
the shed I had to retreat. The footage to confirm something
real anything that would prove. I wasn't losing my mind.
The forest around me, felt colder, somehow empty or As I
approached the shed, I halted abruptly.
The trail camera ride placed just yesterday was gone
completely missing. A chill moved slowly up my spine
leaving my mouth dry and bitter. No broken straps this time.
No torn mounting just empty space.
Where I had set it securely. I scan the ground desperately
but there were no tracks no Footprints.
Nothing except a faint lingering in the air.
Taking a studying breath. I stepped closer to examine the
trees nearby. The bark was scarred freshly
Disturbed. Dark smudges muddy and high off
the ground smeared trunks as if something large had passed
through brushing roughly against them at shoulder height.
Carefully. I reached out and touched one
smudge, it was still wet gritty. Beneath my fingertips.
That's when I saw something shift out of the corner of my
eye. Faint movement deeper among the
blackened Pines. I froze instinctively gripping
my pistol, my breath, shortened caught tight and my throat.
Slowly, I raise my binoculars focusing between shadowed
branches. For a brief instant, a pale
form, darted between trees hunched, but tall far taller
than any animal native to this Forest.
My heart jumped painfully, whatever.
It was moved in a jerky uneven. Knees, bent backward on
naturally elongated limbs folding and unfolding like some
grotesque puppet. Its pale skin gleamed, softly
almost translucent beneath patches of burnt flesh.
Before I could study my shaking hands, the figure disappeared
behind a cluster of dense, charred trunks my chest
tightened, as adrenaline, surged urging me to run to retreat to
escape But I needed evidence something tangible.
I forced myself forward cautiously approaching the spot
where the figure had vanished, there was nothing there now.
No sign of Passage only silence oppressive and thick.
Swallowing hard, I backed slowly Away Eyes darting around the
burned. Landscape my senses straining
for any sound, any movement. I knew, I had to leave returning
to the yurt, I packed hurriedly radioing the ranger station
repeatedly, frantic to hear another human voice but each
attempt met static, empty silence, filling the tent.
Abandoning hope of contact. I threw gear into the truck.
Barely taking the time to secure anything.
Dust billowed behind me as I fled down the winding fire roads
towards civilization. Hours later, shaking and
exhausted. I reached the ranger station in
Springerville Barely coherent. I handed over my secondary
backup camera. Something I'd almost forgotten
in my Panic stashed at the bottom of my pack.
They downloaded the photos onto a battered computer monitor.
Cycling through blurry images, captured automatically the day
before most showed empty Woods motion, blurred leaves branches
moving in the breeze. Then one frame froze.
The room silent. There in grainy, Darkness was
the shape I'd Glimpse through binoculars.
Bent low, distorted hairless its body Twisted on naturally
mid-step captured half blurred and ghostly behind it.
Something else lurk deeper among the Pines pale limbs faintly
visible. In Shadow the supervisor stared
wordlessly his face unreadable Eventually he murmured something
about needing to send this to higher ups for identification.
I nodded numbly two drained to protest to afraid to admit what
I already knew. No one could identify this thing
weeks went by without updates. Phone calls went unanswered.
Emails ignored. Finally frustrated and angry.
I called. One last time, the supervisors
voice was distant almost mechanical.
The footage was corrupted, he explained Flatley.
Sorry, nothing we can use. Thanks for your service.
I hung up slowly gripping the phone tightly and disbelief and
anger. Within a month, I requested a
transfer finding a quiet position near Prescott.
But the nightmares continued waking me at exactly 3:21 a.m.
cold sweat soaking the sheets. Echoing screams trapped inside
my skull. Friends noticed, how withdrawn I
became how often I stared vacantly at the forested hills
Beyond Town searching for movement among the trees.
Two years passed and I rarely spoke of Apache, sitgreaves.
Then one evening in a dimly-lit ranger bar outside Globe, I
found myself nursing a beer alone, thoughts drifting, back
to the forest to things better left forgotten.
A ranger approached making small talk.
The usual exchanges about work and Patrol roads.
Just before leaving, he leaned, closer, eyes, dark with
something like fear or recognition wordlessly, he slid
a folded napkin across the table and walked away with without
looking back heart suddenly pounding I unfolded it reading
the five words scrawled hastily in pain.
It followed me home too. I folded the napkin quietly
slipping at carefully into my wallet.
The bar noises around me faded into a muffled home, my hands,
trembling slightly. I hadn't been back to Apache,
sit grief. Since that day, hadn't dared
return, even in memory. Yet every night since when
Shadows stretched thin across my bedroom wall, I swear I hear
quiet footsteps outside my window, waiting listening
patient. Rocky Mountain National Park
sprawls across some of Colorado's most rugged, terrain,
stretching, from Lush Valley, floors to the Frozen Crags of
the high Alpine Zone. Most tourists stick to Bare lake
or Trail Ridge Road safely distant from the Steep and
isolated terrain around, Echo Basin, its beautiful country.
Of course, open Tundra dotted with Hardy grasses.
Jagged Granite ridges, whether it's smooth by Relentless winds.
But it's also forbidding the kind of place that subtly urges
visitors onward rather than encouraging them to linger.
That's exactly why Echo basins sees, so few visitors and why,
when hikers started reporting strange, rhythmic noises rocks
grinding together in patterns, they had immediately caught the
attention of my supervisors. I've been a ranger here for two
years long enough to respect the back countries unpredictability
but confident in my ability to handle whatever the Wilderness
had to throw it at me. So when they tapped me for a
three-day solo mission to check out these disturbances, I didn't
think much of it. My hike started at the lion,
Lakes Trail Junction from there. I had to bushwack up past Mahana
Peak climbing, steadily until the trees vanished entirely.
Above Timberline wind became a constant companion, pushing at
my pack with my jacket. It was comforting in a strange
way proof. I wasn't completely alone.
The Basin itself came into view as the afternoon sun dipped low
casting a burnt gold glow across the rocky slope.
Echo Basin looked almost peaceful at first, just a
shallow bowl nestled between Jagged Peaks, but the longer I
looked at it, the less welcoming at felt just a wind blasted bowl
with a featureless center. There was nothing remarkable
just empty grassland and circled by Granite ridges.
As the evening crept closer, I set my busy sack up along a
rocky outcrop on the Ridgeline, overlooking the basin.
Clouds gathered overhead but the forecast didn't call for storms
just more Relentless wind. I took some quick notes checked,
my GPS coordinates and settled in for a night that promised to
be uncomfortable, but routine. By Dawn, sleep had come and gone
in brief Restless stretches. I packed up quickly and made my
way down toward the Basin Center the morning sky, clear and
untroubled. It didn't take long before I
found something that didn't belong at first.
I thought the Karen's might have been left by board hikers small
stacks of rocks marking Trails or viewpoints.
But as I approached, I felt a cold unease settle in my gut.
There were six of them each about waist high perfectly
arranged in an unnatural hexagonal formation.
They weren't just randomly piled Stones.
Each Karen was meticulously balanced, every Rock, carefully
selected and placed with intention.
Even stranger the stones themselves were the Rough local
fragments flying scattered around the slope's.
They were smoother as if Polished by centuries of wind
and water elsewhere then brought deliberately here.
Each Karen faced inward toward the precise center of the Basin
aiming at a single low patch of Earth.
I stood there listening to the wind whip around me and
wondering who or what had put them here.
I took photographs from several angles noting GPS coordinates
and radioing in a report. Headquarters acknowledged my
check-in with mild curiosity but no alarm. after all Cairns were
odd but hikers, sometimes built them I didn't press the point,
though, part of me, felt a growing reluctant to spend
another night out here alone. I spent the rest of the day
searching for other signs of human activity.
Discarded food. Wrappers boot prints fire rings
but found nothing. as daylight faded, I climbed back to my busy
site careful to set up on the ridge safely distant from those
unsettling Cairns Dinner was quick and tasteless eaten more
out of habit than hunger. Night fell quickly.
I listened to win shriek and Hal through the peaks of whipping
across the ridge line. The temperature plummeted and
frost the bivy. I tucked myself in tightly
trying to find some comfort. Sleep drifted near but never
fully arrived. Then at precisely midnight, the
wind stopped, not gradually instantly, one moment, the Gale
was there and the next moment had vanished, plunging me into
unnatural silence. My ears rang in the sudden
vacuum the absence of sound. So intense it pressed down like
a weight I sat up slowly heart hammering against my ribs,
straining to hear anything that would break this oppressive
silence minutes. Passed impossibly long and then
came the sound grinding. It was fainted first.
Easy to mistake for imagination until it came again, distinct
and purposeful. The unmistakable scrape of
stones sliding across Stone rhythmic and slow drifting up
from deep in the Basin, my throat tightened.
The noise can continue to intermittently sometimes softer,
sometimes sharper but always deliberate.
My thoughts raced through rational, explanations Rock
shifting naturally, Frost loosening debris an animal
dragging something heavy across gravel, but none seemed quite
right. I reached for my flash light,
and quietly, shifted forward to peer down into the basin.
Moonlight painted the landscape in shades of Silver and Shadow
revealing nothing unusual. But as I strained to see into
the Gloom below a sudden sound sharply louder, echoed from
somewhere behind me a single clear knock like a stone.
Struck deliberately against another less than 20 feet from
where I crouched. Every muscle in my body went
rigid. I waited for the next sound.
It never came. Instead, The Basin remained
unnaturally quiet. The wind didn't return, no
animals stirred. Nothing moved, but my own
shaking hands. It was going to be a very long
night. Sunrise, finally broke over
Echo, Basin pale gold, chasing away, the oppressive Darkness.
I crawled out of the bivy aching and chilled my breath fogging in
the bitter morning are despite the sunlight the base in seemed
just as silent and lifeless as during the night, a Stillness,
hanging thickly over the terrain.
Something felled fundamentally different as if the landscape
had subtly shifted overnight. Unable to shake the feeling.
I quickly gathered my gear and walked carefully back down
toward the Cairns With every step I glanced around alert for
movement. Reaching the spot, my throat
tightened sharply. The Cairns had changed
yesterday's. Six were now, eight arranged in
an even larger tighter Circle. Each formation was angled inward
with unsettling Precision, their polished Stones seemed
impossibly smooth almost reflective in the Stark sunlight
I tried to convince myself that someone must have entered
overnight built, two more, Cairns and vanished without
leaving Footprints or any other sign, but my gut knew better No,
human could have moved quietly enough to evade notice.
So close to my Camp, especially with the wind.
So, conspicuously absent. My camera's preview confirmed,
what my eyes had noticed yesterday's photographs clearly
showed six, Cairns no ambiguity. Today, two additional ones stood
solidly in front of me. I documented everything silently
fingers numb from more than just the morning.
Chill. When I radioed headquarters, I
hesitated then chose not to mention the overnight changes.
It sounded too strange. Two irrational.
I told them conditions were normal and promised another
update by evening. determined to make sense of this, I set out
toward the center of the Basin toward the place, all the Cairns
pointed I kept a wary eye on the formations. from down in the
basin's center, the Cairns remained visible looming like
silent centuries along the ridge above There were no animal
Trails here. No signs of any living thing.
Just licken Frost heaved gravel and stunted grass struggling
through thin Alpine, soil. then I found it a patch of rock a
perfectly smooth about 15 feet across The surface felt
strangely slick beneath my boots polished smoother than any
natural. Erosion could explain.
It formed a shallow depression curving, gently inward
carefully, I knelt to touch it, feeling a chill, radiates from
the polished Stone colder, even than the surrounding ground.
This was the heart of echo Basin the point toward, which all
Cairns aimed as I examined it. Unease rippled through me again.
Quiet was overwhelming in a place to find by howling wind.
Its absence fell almost unnatural.
Silence draped, over everything, heavy enough to press against my
chest thickening each breath, when Shadows began creeping
upward along the slope's. I reluctantly left the polished
depression in returned, upslope choosing a different more
protected. Spot beneath a rock outcrop.
This would at least Shield me from exposure and perhaps from
whatever might be watching from the Ridgeline.
I set up camp and pulled out my thermal camera mounting, it
carefully on a collapsible tripod aimed back uphill toward
the Cairns. If someone or something was
moving around at night, I'd capture proof at least.
That's what I told myself night fell swiftly plunging, Echo base
into cold Blackness Stars appeared in different and
distant. I ate nothing.
My stomach, nodded tightly and anticipation curdling in my
chest. Hours crawled by and exhaustion
battled my stubborn determination to stay away.
I must have drifted off because when I woke sharply, my watch
glowed to 14. I strained to listen.
Instantly aware of the familiar. Dreadful quiet surrounding me
again. But something else broke through
the silence, a soft scraping noise rhythmic, and very close.
Slowly heart hammering in my ears.
I turned toward the sound reaching silently from my
flashlight. through the bivy opening, I saw a tall shape
standing silhouetted against the faint glow of Starlight, it was
Slender and elongated lacking, clear joints, or bends just
impossibly smooth, limbs stretching upward towering among
the Cairns As I stared in disbelief, another scraping
sound came from behind the figure.
Another form. Equally slender moved stiffly.
Between two, Cairns sliding deliberately sideways almost
gliding. I held completely still
Paralyzed, by fear the beam of my flashlight.
Trembling slightly neither form approached.
In Stead, they stood perfectly motionless now.
Mimicking my own frozen posture. Every move I made.
They mirrored precisely. If I shifted slightly the tall
shapes, echoed me. Exactly a sickening realization
tightened my throat, they were not moving toward me only when I
moved. My heart.
Pounded violently sweat beating down my neck despite the
freezing air. For what felt like an eternity.
We remained locked in a tense stale mate.
A silent game. I couldn't understand, couldn't
explain. Finally desperation clawing at
my chest. I slid carefully back inside my
bivy. Barely daring to breathe.
Outside nothing stirred again. I stayed rigidly awake until
dawn listening desperately. Expecting it at any moment to
hear that grinding, scraping sound beginning again.
But silence held unbroken and unbearable.
Dawn emerged pale and cold, pushing back the Shadows enough
to make the base invisible again.
I hadn't slept not a minute, not even a momentary drift.
My nerves were frayed from hours spent listening tents and
unmoving for a sound that never returned.
My muscles ached as I climb stiffly out of the bivy.
Eyes, red rimmed from fatigue. The Ridgeline of the base and
looked different. Now altered somehow by the
night. My chest tightened painfully.
As I saw why? Cairns dozens of them.
Now stood scattered across the slope in uneven rows.
Their polished Stones, glinted sharply in the early Sun.
Each one faced down into the Basin oriented directly toward
my camp. It felt like a silent.
Accusing crowd had gathered overnight, observing me.
My resolve shattered, I shoved gear roughly into my pack.
Disregarding careful folds or proper storage Panic Edge.
My movements pushing logic aside.
I needed out of echo Basin. I needed distance.
Safety to escape. Whatever had been observing me
from the Ridgeline. As I hurriedly hiked upward
toward the Ridgeline path. I paused briefly to glance back
down. The Cairns below, stood
motionless, rigid shapes starkly outlined against the sunlit
slope. A wave of nausea rows as I
realized they appeared to have shifted positions slightly since
I turned away moments ago, I couldn't be certain my
exhaustion and anxiety blurred reality and Imagination but
waiting around to confirm wasn't an option.
I kept walking legs pumping, steadily upward hours passed
intense silence. My body.
Moved mechanically climbing descending navigating by sheer
Instinct and muscle memory Echo Basin faded behind me but the
quiet remained oppressive and heavy Nightfall.
Overtook me quickly, Darkness closing in as I finally reached
the lower Trail Junction Mi away from the basin I didn't stop.
I couldn't my flash light beam cut through the Blackness ahead.
Casting sharp Shadows, onto trees and rocks.
At every turn, I expected something tall and featureless
to emerge silently. Mirroring my desperate flight,
The scraping began again, just as faint.
Just as purposeful as before, somewhere distant, but constant.
A deliberate sound Stones sliding against Stone trailing
quietly through the forest. Panics surged again.
Forcing my Pace even faster. Branches, whipped my face and
Roots snagged at my boots, but I barely noticed driven by the
Relentless Need to Escape that persistent noise.
Finally, in the pale, gray of early morning, I emerged at the
trailhead I stood panting in the parking lot hands, trembling
lungs, Raw. My radio crackled sharply when
headquarters heard my breathless.
Voice requesting immediate pickup, the dispatcher asked
questions, I barely answered mind unable to form coherent
responses, just send someone. Now, I repeated voice rough with
strain two hours later safely, back at Park Headquarters, A
handed, over my camera and field notes to my supervisor.
In his small office cluttered with trail maps and reports.
He flipped slowly through the photographs, I'd taken
occasionally glancing back at me with concern.
You mentioned structures. He finally asked his voice.
Gentle careful. Yes.
I whispered hoarsely. Cairns dozens of them.
Polished Stones stacked, High everywhere around me.
His brow furrowed. As he turned the screen toward
me my chest. Constricted sharply in every
image the Basin was empty. No Cairns know, polished
depression, just open Barren terrain.
I appeared in several photographs visibly Disturbed
standing alone on Windswept ground.
Nothing else was there. I stared numbly at the photos
unable to understand my pulse hammered behind my temples.
Emily. My supervisor said quietly.
It's been a tough few days. I understand if you need some
rest. I opened my mouth to protest but
stopped, what could I possibly say my evidence had vanished?
Only The Echoes of my memory remained utterly insufficient
against empty, photographs, Wordlessly.
I unclipped my Ranger badge and placed it on his desk.
He didn't argue didn't press for explanation.
He simply noted slowly. I sympathetic as I stepped out
into the afternoon sun, I left the park shortly.
After unable to remain, closed to Echo, Basin, haunted, by the
memories of stone in silence. I moved to a small cabin outside
Grand. Junction far enough to feel safe
or at least safer. For months, my days passed
quietly, working at an outdoor gear shop routine slowly
dulling, the worst edges of fear.
But then winter returned, bringing sharp cold and heavy
Frost. One frigid night, the wind
stopped abruptly again, plunging my cabin into the deep silence.
I remembered too. Well.
I lay awake in the darkness, every nerve strained.
Just outside the window, a faint, scraping drifted, softly
toward me. It was slow, and rhythmic The
quiet careful slide of stone across Stone.
When morning came, I found a single small Cairn, perched
perfectly on the porch railing. It Stones.
Polished smooth. Hands, shaking.
I scattered the Rocks into the snow destroying their pattern.
But a week later, two more appeared.
Silent waiting. Arranged precisely toward the
cabin door. Echo Basin had found me again,
and this time there was no, where else to run.
The Paiute have a name for the land.
That stretches south from the town of Escalante.
They call it the sleeping rainbow a place of power.
The Bureau of Land Management. My employer calls it, the Grand
staircase-escalante National monument and almost 2 million
acre chunk of Southern Utah, that defies easy description.
It's a geologic layer cake of canyons Cliffs and plateaus so,
vast and rugged, that parts of it.
Were the last places in the continental United States to be
mapped People come here to find Solitude, sometimes the Solitude
finds them first and they are never seen.
Again, my job is to try and prevent that.
The fluorescent lights of the Escalante interagency visitor,
Center's, briefing room, to Flat monotonous tunes that graded on
my nerves. It was a sound of forced order.
A stark contrast to the chaotic Wilderness just beyond the
building's walls. Maps of the Canyons of the
Escalante were spread across a large table, their topographical
lines. A web of complex wrinkles like
the skin of an old man. Leo, Maxwell, 24.
Deputy Miller said tapping a glossy photo of a young man with
a meticulously curated beard and the kind of confidence smile
that suggested he'd never faced a problem money couldn't solve.
Last scene, 3 days ago. His rental is at the Dry Fork
Trailhead last post on the gram was a shot of the canyon
entrance caption going where the signal dies looks like he
founded. Bill Taggart a volunteer with
Kane County Sr who everyone called Sarge grunted.
He was a relic from a different era of the Park Service.
A man whose face was a roadmap of sun and skepticism Another
Instagram idiot comes out here with 10,000 dollars of gear in
ten cents worth of Common Sense. He looked at me, a glimmer of
something patronage, maybe a test in his eyes.
It's your show chief. I hated that nickname, if it
felt like a title, I hadn't earned yet, I cleared my throat,
forcing a confidence. I didn't fully feel.
This was my first search and rescue operation as Incident
Commander back in Zion. I was part of a well-oiled
machine here. I was the machine All right, I
said my voice coming out steady or than I expected.
Will start with a standard grid, search radiating from the
trailhead Team, Alpha your, with me, in Sarge Maya, you'll be on
Combs and drone OverWatch. We'll focus on the drive Fork
Narrows including peekaboo and spooky.
He's a photographer, he'll often for the dramatic shots.
I laid out the protocols, the communication Windows, the 48,
our timeline, it was all textbook out here.
The textbook was the only thing keeping you from becoming
another ghost story. The Utah son was a physical
weight. By midday the air, shimmered
above, the Slick Rock, and the heat radiated up from the
ground, baking me through the soles of my boots.
We'd found nothing all morning but empty water bottles and
granola bar wrappers the usual detritus of tourists.
The sheer scale of the place was humbling.
A person could vanish 10 feet from the trail and never be
found. In the afternoon.
I spotted it. Perched on a Sandstone ledge
overlooking, a 50 foot, drop a high-end, Sony camera set on a
small neat stack of three Flat Rocks.
It was perfectly balanced, positioned like an offering on
an altar. Well, there's this camera Bill
said, spitting, a stream of tobacco Juice near my boots.
Looks like he was staging a shot and took a tumble.
We should check the base of that cliff.
But I couldn't shake a feeling of deep unease.
The lens cap was on who sets up a shot and then puts the lens
cap on it felt wrong stage. We scoured the area below, the
ledge for two hours. We found no tracks, no scuff
marks, no sign of a fall, nothing We pushed on following a
dry wash that snaked deeper into the monument.
The sun was beginning, its slow descent painting, the canyon
walls in Hues of orange and deep violet.
That's when Maya the young volunteer on my team called out.
Ranger Jenkins. You should see this.
There in the center of the wide Sandy wash stood a single hiking
boot. It was one of Leo, Maxwell's
expensive, Italian boots standing perfectly upright as if
it's owner had simply evaporated out of it.
It was filled to the brim with fine red sand and placed neatly
in the center of the sand. Like a candle on a bizarre cake
was a single Flawless stem of Indian Paintbrush.
Its Crimson pedals a stark slash of color against the pale sand.
Bill stopped beside me. The usual Gruff commentary dying
on his lips. He just stared along low,
whistle, escaping his teeth. He'd stroke, he finally mumbled,
but the conviction in his voice was gone.
Makes a man do strange things. Start shedding layers gets
delusional. I nodded but I didn't believe
it. There was a Precision to this, a
deliberate Artistry that felt chillingly sane.
This wasn't the work of a mind added by heat.
This was a message. The son had dipped below the
Canyon Rim. By the time, we started our hike
back to the temporary base camp. The desert was descending into a
profound silence broken, only by the crunch of our boots on the
Gravelly terrain, I was bringing up the rear my mind, replaying
the image of the flower in the boot, when I heard it.
A whisper as clear and close as if someone were walking directly
behind me. Sarah, my blood ran cold, I spun
around my hand, instinctively, going to the radio on my
shoulder strap. The trail behind me was empty.
Far ahead, I could see the bobbing headlamps of Bill and
Maya, their voice is a faint murmur Ike.
The radio, Bill Maya, did one of you just call me Bill's voice
crackled back, casual and unconcerned Negative Chief where
a good ways ahead of you, you all right?
I'm fine. I lied my heart hammering
against my ribs. Wind must be playing tricks.
But it wasn't the wind the winds and moans.
It doesn't learn your name. I stood alone in the Gathering
dark feeling the immense ancient weight of the Wilderness around
me. For the first time it didn't
feel empty, it felt like it was watching day, two, donned with a
malevolent hazy sky, that promised no relief.
We abandoned the heavily trafficked, lower canyons and
moved, North ascending onto the vast broken, expanse of the
kaiparowits plateau. Up here, the world was
different. A friendly Sandstone swirls gave
way to Stark angular Cliffs and canyons that fractured the Earth
like shattered bone. The silence was heavier the
Solitude more profound. We were no longer in a park.
We were in ancient in different place. and the strange news from
the day before clung to us, like the fine dust that coated our
gear We found the second message at a fork in a narrow unnamed
Canyon. It stood about two feet tall
propped against a slab of sandstone at first glance.
I thought it was a bundle of dried brush.
Then my eyes resolved, the shape and a cold knot formed in my
stomach. It was a humanoid figure crudely
woven from sharp, Yucca fibers, its arms and legs were
unnerving, long and thin bent at odd angles, tied to its chest
with a familiar looking black and red shoelace.
A perfect match to the one on Leo's remaining boot.
Was the bleach Jawbone of a coyote.
It wasn't just a random construction.
It was a portrait. It was a warning, Deputy
Miller's voice crackled over the radio, tiny and distant,
probably just some weirdo cult crap.
Ignored it and press on Bill spat, I'm thinking drug Runners
territorial markers. He said it with a confidence.
I knew he didn't feel drug. Runners were a logical, almost
comforting explanation, compared to the alternative that was
beginning to form in the back of my mind.
The auditory of events started soon after they were no longer
subtle Whispers, they were calculated attacks.
Bill with scouting, a high ledge checking for a possible route to
the Canyon Rim. I watched him from below a small
figure against a massive wall of rock my radio clip to my
shoulder strap. Remained silent but Bill's
radio. Spoke to him, his voice came
over, my receiver a moment later tight with confusion Say again,
Chief Ledges unstable. I keep my mic.
Negative Sarge. I didn't say anything.
You have a clear Vantage Point up there.
A long. Pause my radio.
It was your voice. Clear as a bell told me to get
down now. He scrambled down the Rocks, his
movements clumsy with haste when he reached us.
He stared at me then at my radio as if he could see the lie in
its silent plastic casing. It was you he repeated his voice
low, it said my name. Later that afternoon, we were
taking a break in the thin shade of an overhanging Cliff Maya.
The young volunteer was quiet, her usual cheerful energy
completely gone, she looked exhausted haunted without
warning, a sound drifted through the still air, it was faint but
unmistakable, the worried voice of a woman a sound that had no
place here in this desolate wilderness.
My honey is that you? Why haven't you called me back?
My own Ridgid the color drained from her face.
She fumbled for her satellite phone.
Her hands trembling, as she stared at the screen.
No missed calls. She whispered, her voice choked
with tears. How?
That was my mom. That was her voice.
The sound had come from everywhere and nowhere.
It hadn't. Echoed off the canyon walls.
It had simply manifested in the air between us, a cruel and
impossible. Auditory hallucination.
We had all shared I knew then I had to get control.
That evening, I gathered, what was left of my team.
We're doing a calms check. I announced forcing a tonne of
authority with base camp, and all teams.
Now, I hail the command post Team Alpha.
This is, I see voice, check over my own voice, sounded alien in
the oppressive quiet. A moment later, the reply came
from my radio speaker Team Alpha.
This is icy voice. Check over.
It was a perfect Echo, not a recording but a live intelligent
mimicry before. I could react the radio spoke
again, cycling through the voices of my team with chilling
precision. Bill Taggart team.
Alfa check. It was bills.
Gravelly tone identical in every way.
Miya Cech, Maya, soft fearful voice.
Then a new voice entered, the sequence, a voice, we'd only
heard on a missing person report the cheerful, confident, tone of
the Dead, Leo Maxwell, check. A thick cold silence descended,
no one breathed, then the radio crackled one last time with a
perfect imitation of Deputy Millers folksy.
Draw dripping with a terrifying knowing malice, Y'all are in a
whole heap of trouble. That night.
No one spoke. The campfire crackled spitting
Embers into the darkness but it offered no comfort.
Maya was huddled in her sleeping bag.
Her face pale Bill sat staring into the Flames, his skepticism
finally burned away leaving only a raw Primal Fear.
He's not lost. I said my voice low, but clear,
the words felt, like, stones in my mouth, Leo Maxwell is gone
and were not looking for him anymore.
Bill looked up at me, his eyes Hollow.
What do you saying? Sarah the camera, the boot, the
Effigy they aren't Clues. He left behind their message is
for us. I took a deep breath, the
theory, finally taking solid form were being studied hunted
by something that uses our own voices against us.
It's trying to separate us to make us Panic.
This is its territory and its playing a game with us.
You're talking about a monster Chief Bill whispered, the
nickname now devoid of any irony you've let this place get in
your head. before I could answer a sound cut through the night
from The High Cliffs above It was thin and Reedy at first,
then Rose and volume. A sound so deeply fundamentally
wrong for this place, that it stopped the very blood in my
veins. It was the sound of a baby
crying. A desperate lonely, whale that
echoed off the Unseen Rock a perfect calculated Lord designed
to prey on the most basic of human instincts.
It was the most inhuman sound I had ever heard.
The sound began on the morning of the third day.
It wasn't a whisper or a disembodied voice from a memory.
It was a raw desperate scream and it came from the narrow
Jagged mouth of a Slot. Canyon the old-timers called
Brimstone, Gulch help me. I am in here, my leg is broken.
The voice was Leo, Maxwell's. It was filled with a perfect
agonizing pain that would have sent any Rescue Team scrambling.
But we knew better, we knew what was making that sound.
Bill's face was a pale. Grim, Mass was shaking her eyes
wide with Terror. This was the final invitation.
This was the Trap, my radio crackled.
It was Deputy Miller, his voice. Clear from the safety of the
command post Mi away. I see we have Audible cries
confirmed by two other teams. You are to enter the canyon and
attempt to make contact. It was a direct order, a lawful
order. It was also a death sentence.
no, bill whispered Beside Me Chief don't I looked from the
dark slit of the canyon to the faces of my team.
I thought of the camera on the Rocks, the flower in the boot,
the thing made of Yucca and Bone, I thought of the babies
cry in the night. I raise the radio to my lips.
Copy that command. I lied my voice betraying no
emotion Team Alpha is preceding into Brimstone Gulch.
I killed the transmission and turned to Bill and Maya.
My heart was a cold heavy Stone in my chest we're not going in.
I said my voice low and absolute.
We're going up, we stick together.
We trust the rope and no matter what you hear, no matter whose
voice it is, you do not look back and you do not hesitate,
you just climb. I reached up and click the small
recording button on the side of my helmet camera.
The tiny red light was a small Act of defiance turn yours on my
She fumbled with the switch her fingers.
Trembling what is it? She whispered evidence.
I said we didn't enter The Gulch.
We found a steep narrow chimney on its outer wall and began to
ascend toward the Rimrock, high above Below us.
The desperate cries of Leo, turned to agonize screams of
Torment. Echoing up from the dark tight
confines of the Trap. Then the real assault began.
It was a chaos of sound. A psychological carpet bombing.
I heard the sharp twang of a rope snapping, right next to my
ear, and my body tense for a fall that never came.
My own rope was solid secure, a Cascade of Pebbles rained down
and I heard Bill's voice yell Rock from above me.
I flinched pressing my body to the wall, but when I glanced up
Bill was still climbing his face.
Set his mouth closed. He hadn't made a sound.
It was trying to make us react. To make us look away to make a
second, guess our gear, our partners our own senses.
It wanted a moment of hesitation a fatal mistake.
We were nearing the top the Morning, Light, a pale band
above us when the screams From the Canyon ceased, a new silence
fell. And in that silence it emerged
it flowed out of the mouth of the Slot Canyon below us and
began to climb the opposite wall with an impossible fluid Grace.
It was tall, at least seven feet and slender.
Its skin was the color of bone, waxy, and completely
featureless. There was no face, just a smooth
blank canvas. Its limbs were too long bending
at angles that defied Anatomy as its played three fingered hands.
Found holds in the sheer Sandstone, it made no sound.
It simply climbed parallel to us its head cocked watching.
Maya made a choked gasping sound, the thing turned its
blank face toward her a smooth pale oval in the dim light her
helmet camera was pointed right at it seeing us near the rim, so
close to escape it. Finally took direct action.
It wasn't a roar or a charge. It was a cold calculated, move
high above us. It braced its long Limbs and
pushed a massive Boulder, the size of a truck tire dislodged
from The Cliff face and Came Crashing Down.
Not at us but at the rock face just above us.
Bill was the highest on the line.
He yelled a real warning this time and swung his body to avoid
the primary impact but the shower of debris that followed
slammed into his position. I heard the grinding Screech of
metal on rock as his anchors failed.
He shouted my name, a single sharp syllable of shock and
fear, then he was gone, his weight Vanishing from the Rope
as he plummeted into the Blackness of The Gulch.
And from the creature on the opposite wall came a sound.
I will hear in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
It wasn't a mimicry, it was its own voice.
A series of high-pitched rapid clicks, the sound of an insect
magnified a thousand times. A sound that was in its own
alien way laughter. The sun crested The Horizon as
Maya and I clawed our way onto the rim.
The creature was gone retreated from the light.
The official story was clean, park ranger, Bill, taggard and
missing hiker. Leo Maxwell were tragically
killed in a sudden. Unexpected rockslide in
Brimstone, Gulch. My report and Mayas incoherent
statements were attributed to acute stress and Trauma.
Stern-faced. Men from the Department of the
Interior. Debriefed me in a sterile
office. They were polite, professional
and their questions carried an unmistakable threat.
They confiscated our helmet cameras and their memory cards
as part of the official investigation.
I signed the nondisclosure agreement.
It was that or the end of my career, my reputation my life,
as I knew it. I was transferred to Denver to a
records management position a desk job and Exile.
Five years later. I was cataloging land.
Use permits in a great cubicle when a news alert flashed on my
monitor. Hiker missing in Grand
staircase-escalante. In my quiet apartment.
I opened a locked file on my laptop.
I had known. They would take the camera, I
hadn't trusted them before the climb.
I had enabled. A Deep Woods satellite relay app
on my phone, an experimental program that attempted to
livestream helmet. Cam footage to a secure Cloud
Server. The signal had been garbage
cutting in and out but it hadn't been a total failure.
I had a corrupted 17, second video file.
I composed a new email encrypted and routed through three
different countries. The recipient was a journalist,
a man famous for his Relentless pursuit of inconvenient truths.
The subject line was simple. What's really in Grand
staircase-escalante? In my chair closing, my eyes.
I pictured him in his office late at night, a glass of
whiskey in his hand. A cynical look on his face as he
reads a crazy email from some anonymous source.
I see him, click the attachment. The video is shaky the quality
poor. It's a blur of Red Rock and
mourning Shadow. Then for 9:00 seconds, a pale
long limbed thing, flows into the frame.
It turns its smooth featureless face toward the camera, the
journalist cynical smile would vanish.
The glass would stop halfway to his lips, his eyes would wide.
And in that moment he would believe.
The story was finally out. The silence was about to be
broken. Blood Mountain has a reputation,
even before I set foot on the trail, I'd heard the stories
from Friends, who'd hiked this section of the Appalachian.
Trail stories wrapped in uneasy laughter and Shrugged off
warnings about quiet footsteps, following campers after dark,
most dismissed these tales, as folklore tricks of imagination
born from isolation and shadows, but as Mia, and I parked our
Subaru at Lake Winfield. Scott laced up our boots and
double checked our packs. I pushed those stories aside
we'd plan this hike carefully. Five days away from screens
meeting and deadlines. Just us and the wild Rolling
Hills of Northern Georgia. Mid-september brought crisp are
rust colored leaves on her foot and a welcome quiet that felt
like relief. It was exactly what we needed.
Our first days, goal was simple hike.
South toward Blood Mountain. Stay overnight at Woods Hole
shelter, then continue on at sunrise.
We made quick work of the trail that morning passing only, two
other hikers friendly enough exchanges, the usual headed far
and Beautiful Day banter. By late afternoon, the sunlight
had softened into that warm fading glow, that signals.
You should start scouting for camp.
It was nearly 6:45 p.m. when I saw him Mia and I had just
rounded a narrow switch back near Bird Gap.
Navigating a steep rise. My calves burned pleasantly with
effort. I paused breath catching
slightly at the elevation. Then saw the man coming up hill
From Below. It struck me immediately.
How unusual that was most day hikers would have descended by.
Now yet, there he was climbing toward us steady but unhurried
alone. What caught my attention wasn't
his Pace, but his complete lack of gear, no pack, no, trekking
poles, not even a water bottle, he wore a gray, windbreaker
faded jeans and worn sneakers shoes, that looked battered
almost treadless completely unsuited for the rocky Ascent
ahead. He moved with deliberate
Precision like someone who'd hike this path countless times
and no longer needed to watch his feet.
Hey evening. I called out automatically
friendly. He lifted his head eyes meeting
mine, just briefly and nodded slowly.
He didn't say a word didn't smile, just kept walking past us
uphill silent as Stone me a stepped closer and we watched
him vanish behind the curve of a ridge.
She spoke first softly. He didn't have a flashlight.
I hadn't even thought about it yet.
Dusk would arrive. Soon bringing a Darkness.
So thick. You could barely see your own
boots. Without a headlamp or Lantern
hiking would be dangerous Reckless.
Even Probably just a Day, hike, or going for one last view.
I said, forcing a casual tone, maybe he parked up at Neil's Gap
and misjudged the sunset. She nodded but didn't look
convinced. We pressed forward to Woods
Hole, shelter as Twilight settled in tinting the trees and
hillsides blue gray. The temperature dropped, a
sharp. Chill slipping between my collar
and backpack straps Mia. Zipped up her jacket and kept
glancing back. Uneasy clearly more shaken than
she admitted. The shelter itself was typical
Appalachian Trail, Fair stonewalls a simple Tin Roof, an
open, wooden sleeping platform. It had seen better days, but
offered enough protection from the biting mountain breeze.
As we prepared our campfire, something made me pause, tilting
my head. A faint rustling Came From
Beyond the Edge of our campsite. I raced my flash light beam
cutting through the brush and trees Illuminating nothing but
empty Darkness. What is it Mia?
Whispered suddenly close beside me.
Nothing probably just an animal. But even as I spoke, I felt it
again that uncanny sense of someone else out there.
Just beyond sight, I scan the trees once more listening hard,
but the rustling had stopped. We ate quickly conversation thin
Afterwards, Mia opened, the trail Journal stashed inside a
plastic bin at the shelter. I glanced over her shoulder
flash, light Illuminating handwritten entries from
previous hikers, one recent entry stood out, clearly dated
just three days earlier. Saw a guy standing still on a
Ridgeline around 7 p.m. no, flash light, no gear didn't
speak. I thought I was hallucinating.
Mia's eyes met mine, neither of us, spoke, later lying awake
beside her in our tent wrapped, tightly against the cold.
I found myself replaying the encounter.
The quiet nod, the deliberate Pace.
The Warren sneakers somehow unsettling in their ordinarys, a
part of me wished. I had called after him again.
Maybe insisted on knowing if he was all right.
But another part deep in weary felt certain that silence had
been safer. Outside beyond the nylon walls,
the forest pressed clothes. I strained.
My ears in the darkness trying to catch any sound Twigs.
Snapping leave shifting. But the mountain remained
utterly oppressively, quiet leaving, only my own breathing
as proof. I was still awake.
Sleep came late restless and thin plagued by half-formed
dreams of someone slowly pacing circles around our campsite.
When morning finally arrived, it brought no relief.
The air hung heavy with mist and silence and though, we packed
quickly, eager to move. We both knew something had
shifted. The mountain had noticed us and
I couldn't shake the feeling. It was watching waiting to see
what we would do next. We left Woods Hole shelter
earlier than planned, eager to put distance between ourselves
and the unease that lingered from the night before morning
fog, wove through the trees. Cloaking the trail and dense
White. Our boots, crunched quietly over
damp leaves and loose Stones. As we climb steadily toward
blood mountains Summit, I tried to ignore the nagging feeling
that we weren't alone focusing instead on practical
distractions, the trail markers the map, the steady rhythm of my
breathing Mia remained on unusually quiet.
Her face tents ice scanning constantly into the fog shrouded
woods around us. About mid-morning, we reached
Slaughter Gap. The name alone was enough to
unsettle me further. A grim nod to battles long past.
We paused to catch our breath drinking from our water bottles
and staring at the Mist. Curling silently through the
hollow, as I lifted my pack, back onto my shoulders,
something moved, high above us on the trail, my eyes, snapped
upward, pulse quickening, instantly there he was.
Again, the man from yesterday. He walked the same direction as
before moving uphill, with that same steady on hurried pace.
Grey windbreaker jeans worn out sneakers, no gear, no pack, no
visible means of surviving a night on the mountain.
Nothing had changed. It was as if no time had passed
for him at all. Jason Mia whispered urgently
gripping my sleeve her voice tight with disbelief.
That's him, right? I throw felt dry.
Yeah, it is. We watched silently rooted to
the spot as the figure climbed steadily onward.
Vanishing over the ridge. There was no logical
explanation, no alternate Trails, he could have taken no
hidden routes that bypassed us. He would have needed to walk
directly past our camp to appear there again, yet.
Neither of us had seen or heard anything overnight.
Mia pulled out the map again fingers, trembling slightly as
she traced the trail between our campsite and here there's
nothing. She said quietly no Junctions.
No roads nothing I know I said feeling a chill.
Creeped down my spine. Let's keep moving.
We quickened our Pace now, eager to reach blood mountains Summit,
and then immediately descend. The Mist refused to lift draping
the forest in Endless silent gray.
It dulled every sound, our breathing our footsteps, until
it felt like we were passing through some forgotten abandoned
world. By early evening, we reached the
stone shelter perched to top Blood Mountain.
It was solid but Stark walls, gray and worn bearing.
The signatures of Decades of hikers who had passed through.
We decided against pitching the tent choosing instead, the
relative security of solid stone walls.
I build a fire outside its Flames casting wavering Shadows,
that danced uneasily across the rocks and into the trees.
Mia. Sat beside me, arms wrapped
tightly around her knees staring wordlessly into the darkening,
Woods. Neither of us spoke for a long
while. eventually the silence grew uncomfortable, oppressive,
even and I turned to reassure her before I could say anything.
Mia's hand shot out. Gripping my arm so hard.
It hurt Jason. Look her voice was barely
audible. I followed her gaze squinting
into the Twilight at the tree line about 200 feet from the
shelter. At first I saw only dark Trunks
and Tangled branches. But then my breath caught
sharply, as I noticed the figure partially obscured behind a
tree, he was perfectly still watching us.
Same clothes, same empty-handed stance.
Same expressionless face. He's been there Mia whispered,
her voice shaking for at least 10 minutes I thought I was
imagining it. I stood, slowly flash light
trembling slightly in my hand. As I shine, the beam directly
toward him. He didn't Flinch, didn't blink,
he didn't step forward or Retreat.
He simply stood their eyes fixed on us face, devoid of emotion.
Hey, I called out loudly voice cracking slightly.
What do you want? Are you lost nothing?
No response, no movement. My pulse hammered in my ears.
I picked up a small rock and threw it toward him.
Hoping to provoke some kind of reaction.
The Rock clattered through branches breaking the tense
silence and instantly the figure slipped quietly behind the trunk
of the tree. Vanishing from sight without
making a single audible, footstep Mia reached immediately
for our radio. We need to call for help.
She said, urgently switching it on, she pressed the button,
repeatedly speaking rapidly into it but static crackled back at
us a dead hiss that drowned out her voice.
Something's blocking it, she whispered desperation creeping
into her tone. We retreated into the shelter
securing the flimsy, wooden door behind us.
I retrieved the trail Journal again flipping nervously through
pages filled with cheerful anecdotes whether complaints and
Casual. Greetings my fingers froze at
another entry from less than a week ago.
Man with no light or bag on the slope near Bird Gap.
Same spot. I saw him two years ago never
speaks. He always walks North.
What the hell is this? I showed it to Mia her eyes
widened in horror. Two years ago she breathed.
How is that possible? I don't know, I admitted
quietly. I just don't.
We sat together in the dim glow of our headlamps.
Listening carefully nerves stretched tight.
Barely daring to breathe. Hours.
Ticked by and slow agonizing silence.
Every shifting Shadow every crackle of distant leaves made
us jump, neither of us could sleep.
We stayed awake staring at the wooden door.
Praying we wouldn't hear it slowly Creak open revealing, the
silent unblinking face waiting patiently outside.
We decided Before Dawn that we'd had enough.
By The Faint grey of First Light, Mia.
And I quickly packed our things leaving, the stone shelter
behind without a Second Glance. We descended South aiming to
intersect, the jarrad Gap trail. A shorter route back to the
parking area near Lake Winfield Scott.
Neither of us spoke as we walked moving faster than we had in
days. The quiet felt brittle as if any
careless noise might draw attention from the Shadows.
The trailer ahead, wound, steeply downward damp soils
slick beneath our boots. Forcing careful foot placement
with each step. Has morning brightened sunlight
broke through the canopy and narrow shafts.
Slicing through the heavy Mist that still clung stubbornly to
the lower slopes yet. Somehow, despite the welcome
daylight, the tension refused to leave me it lingered a constant
feeling of being watched followed Around mid-morning
about halfway down to Jared Gap. I paused to catch my breath.
Sweat cooled on my forehead and my lungs burned from exertion
and anxiety. Mia had stopped, just ahead
leaning heavily against a moss. Covered Boulder eyes cast down
toward the forest floor. Jason.
She said her voice hushed and strained.
Look at this. I stepped up beside her
following her gaze down into the soft moss and wet soil at the
edge of the trail. Clearly imprinted were several
shoe prints warned sneakers, the pattern flat and smooth.
Identical to the treadless shoes.
The man had warned. They stood out, sharply,
unmistakably fresh. I knelt down examining the
prince carefully. They let a short distance away
from the trail directly into thick underbrush.
Then abruptly, they stopped, no continuation.
No Disturbed branches, nothing. It looked like the prince had
simply appeared there then vanished.
There's nowhere, he could have gone Mia whispered, her voice
unsteady it's impossible. I know I admitted quietly
standing up slowly. A wave of nausea passed through
me. Let's just keep going.
We moved on maintaining an even quicker.
Pace, glancing, anxiously, over our shoulders.
Every few steps. The forest seemed thicker here.
The trees, pressing closer to the trail obscuring visibility
Beyond a few feet in any direction.
I felt as though the woods themselves were closing in,
ready to swallow us whole at the slightest misstep.
Finally, just after noon, we reached the parking lot at Lake
Winfield, Scott. Our car sat untouched exactly as
we left at days early or I unlocked it.
Hastily tossing, our gear, into the backseat without bothering
to organize anything. Mia climbed in silently, locking
her door immediately. Let's get out of here, she
murmured her voice thin and exhausted we drove directly to
the ranger station in sushis inside an older Ranger named
Eldon greeted us warmly. But as I began describing the
strange man we'd seen repeatedly near Blood Mountain.
His welcoming expression Faded by a look of quiet concern,
close that door please. He said finally nodding toward
the station's entrance. I did as he asked locking it
behind me. Elden sat at his desk, glancing
briefly out the window before turning to us.
He cleared his throat. Choosing his words carefully.
You aren't the first hikers to mention this.
He began slowly voice lowered. Almost conspiratorial.
In fact, folks around here. We have a name for it, we call
it, the unsolved Loop. What do you mean Mia asks,
softly leaning closer Elden has a dated briefly then reached
into a desk drawer. Pulling out a thick Warren
binder. He opened it carefully, sliding
it across the desk toward us, it was filled with Pages, emails,
Trail Journal, excerpts handwritten notes, all,
describing the same encounter, the same silent gearless, man.
Seen hiking North on the same Trails section near Blood
Mountain. These reports go back decades,
Eldon said Gravely, at least as far as the early 1990s.
It's always the same description.
Silent walking North no gear, never aging always near dusk or
Dawn sometimes in the exact same spot years apart.
I flipped through the binder heart pounding heavily in my
chest as I scanned entry after entry.
Hikers had documented seeing him again and again describing him
and chillingly, identical terms each sighting ended abruptly
leaving behind no trace or explanation.
Why hasn't anyone done anything? I asked voice thick with
frustration. Elden sighed leaning back in his
chair. Done what exactly searched
investigated. Trust me, people have tried
every attempt ends the same way. Nothing found.
No answers. Eventually most hikers just
assumed they imagined it or Worse?
Decide never to return. Has he ever Mia?
Hesitated voice trembling hurt. Anyone Eldon shook his head.
Slowly no reports of harm but plenty of hikers who have
encountered him have sworn never to set foot on the mountain
again, it leaves a mark on you Mia, shivered slightly wrapping
her arms tighter around her herself.
What happens if you follow him? Has anyone tried?
Eldon looked away his expression unreadable once or twice.
Maybe they never got close enough to find out.
He just vanishes like he was never there.
We sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the unsettling silence
in the ranger station, each lost in thought.
Eventually Elden closed, the binder gently and returned it to
the drawer, sliding it. Shut with a faint.
Click its probably best. He said, quietly to put this
behind you maybe consider other Trails for a while.
We thanked Eldon stepping back out into the bright afternoon,
sunlight, neither of us. Spoke as we drove away, passing
winding roads, and thickly wooded hillsides.
But as we rounded a particularly tight curve, I glanced briefly
into the trees lining, the roadside for a fleeting instant.
I saw something standing motionless beneath the Shadows
of the trees. A familiar figure facing the
road. Grey windbreaker jeans worn out
sneakers. No pack.
No flash lighting just standing there.
Silent watching. I blinked hard looking again but
he was gone the spot empty as if no one had ever been there.
Mia, touched my arm gently, did you?
She whispered eyes wide with fear?
No, I said, quietly squeezing her hand tight, it was nothing
but we both knew that wasn't true.
Blood Mountain was now forever marked in our memories and
somehow I sensed deep down that no matter how far we drove, we'd
always feel him out there walking silently North forever
caught in his unsolved Loop. Cheat Mountain isn't the kind of
place you stumble onto by accident.
Nestled deep in West, Virginia's, Monongahela National
Forest. It feels deliberately placed
beyond the reach of casual hikers in daytrippers.
The trails here dissolve into faint dear paths.
The trees grow thick and Tangled swallowing up, any semblance of
civilization. It's exactly why we chose it.
Four friends eager for Solitude escape and the challenge of true
wilderness camping. No phones, no marked, Ruth's
just Maps compasses and gear on our backs.
We'd started out from the god in near Scenic area threading North
into the denser parts of Cheech. By the second day, the forest
had tightened around us. Chris led the way his Pace
deliberate compass in hand determined to keep us from
losing our bearings. Nate trudged behind his breath.
Arith puff breaking only for the occasional wisecrack, Maria, our
resident wildlife biologist and the voice of reason scanned
constantly for signs of bear or deer.
Then there was me, Dev The Quiet One ex-military and still
comfortable in these conditions. But even I felt uneasy here
aware of how quickly the forest could swallow us, whole It was
mid-afternoon when Chris stopped abruptly.
Hey Dev. Check this out.
I moved up beside him. He pointed out a thin path.
Sneaking off from our root. A subtle crease in the brush.
Barely visible unless you looked right at it old game Trail.
Maria suggested skeptical. Know, I said to clean something
uses this regularly. Nate sighed dramatically, please
don't say Bigfoot. We exchanged glances Chris
Shrugged worth a quick look. Curiosity pushed us forward
within minutes. The faint Trail opened in to a
small clearing tucked into a shallow dip in the terrain, it
felt strangely protected hidden from casual View.
What we found there? Stopped us all in our tracks.
A makeshift campsite sprawled. Before us primitive, yet
meticulously maintained an A-frame shelter, stood nestled
between two sturdy. Spruce trees, walls covered with
sheets of dried bark. Stacked neatly nearby were piles
of carefully, split firewood bark peeled and would smooth.
By a low fire pit. Ring.
Tightly with stones, fresh-looking meet hung from
lines. Strung between branches drying
in strips. A cluster of rabbit and squirrel
carcasses skined. Expertly lay arranged as the
waiting to be processed. Holy hell, Nate whispered voice
suddenly small. Maria moved forward, slowly
studying, the scene, this isn't some weekend hobbyist.
She said, quietly, this took skill and time I nodded scanning
carefully. Each detail stood out vividly
carved. Wooden utensils painstakingly
whittled from branches. Lay neatly, Atop A Flat Rock.
Nearby were perfectly crafted, snares Loops tight and expertly
nodded military level Precision, not amateur Bushcraft.
I don't see any gear Chris said circling slowly no packs.
No tents no. Sign of recent fire.
Either strange. That's intentional.
I said, this person knows how to stay hidden.
Maria, knelt beside one of the drying racks cautious, not to
disturb anything. These strips of venison haven't
been here, long? Hours, maybe Chris asked, she
nodded this isn't abandoned. Whoever lives here is probably
close by watching. I felt my pulse Quicken and
glanced toward the dense thickets in circling us.
Shadows shifted subtly in the breeze impossible to distinguish
clearly from movement. We should go.
I said quietly. Let me grab a photo.
First Nate said pulling out his phone.
He moved toward a rusted. Meat hook hung ominously from a
nearby tree. Limb.
The Twisted iron seemed out of place almost threatening.
Come on Maria urged. Softly don't push our luck.
Nate snapped a quick picture anyway, laughing nervously to
cover his discomfort just capturing the moment.
None of us felt much like joking.
We turned back toward the path, uneasy and silent.
Maria glanced at me, questioning She knew I'd seen things in
remote areas before remnants left behind by people trying to
vanish. But this this felt different
meticulous obsessive. Even Chris led us back to the
main route quickly pushing harder than before.
He didn't stop, until we put nearly a mile between us and the
strange encampment. Then we slowed each of us
quietly processing. What we discovered Maria broke,
the silence first. Did anyone else get the feeling?
We were trespassing. Chris nodded.
Definitely Nate. Just shook his head eyes.
Darting nervously into the surrounding trees.
Well, it was abandoned right? Maybe a prepper survivalist type
harmless. Not abandoned.
I corrected firmly catching each of their eyes someone's out
here. Living off grid on purpose like
he saw every step we took I paused unwilling to voice my
next thought that it felt exactly like the silent careful
observation tactics. I had learned years ago, You're
saying we were watched Nate asked paling slightly almost
certainly I replied evenly. We should assume we still are
Maria, tightened the straps of her pack, Chris resumed, walking
without another word the forest felt heavier.
Now, more oppressive, Cheat Mountain.
No longer seemed like an adventure more like a warning,
we'd ignored. And as we walked, I thought the
nagging Sensation that whoever had made that camp had already
memorized our faces. Darkness settled early in
Thoroughly and cheat Mountain. By the time we found a small
saddle nestled between cheat and high knob to set Camp.
We'd barely spoke in a word in over an hour.
Each of us moved quickly, efficiently silently setting up
tents organizing gear and boiling water for freeze-dried
meals. Our uneasy silence hung thick as
we sat around the small carefully maintained fire.
Heads down, I scanning the Shadows beyond our dim circle of
light. The image of the deserted Camp,
haunted. All of us.
I saw it on Chris's face set tight and tense and in the
Restless glances, Nate cast in to the woods, every few minutes.
Maria sat near me staring blankly into the fire.
Her usual inquisitive cheerfulness was gone.
Listen Chris finally said, breaking the heavy quiet,
whoever that was back there there probably just aiding
people harmless. Let's stay calm, get some rest
and Hike out in the morning. Harmless Nate bitterly.
Right? I checked my watch just after
10:00 will keep shifts. I said firmly cutting off any
further debate. Two hours.
Each They nodded without argument.
Nate and Christ took first watch.
Maria. And I slipped quietly into our
tents exhausted but alert, as I lay back on my sleeping bag, I
strained my ears for the familiar comfort of wilderness.
Sounds nothing cheat, Mountain felt utterly silent as though
holding its breath. I woke suddenly around two in
the morning to annoys from Maria's tent a sharp intake of
breath rapid movement, the rustle of nylon.
Instantly alert. I unzipped my tent flap.
Maria, stood outside eyes wide, and fixed on something,
suspended near the edge of Camp her Flash, Light Beam trembled
slightly in her grip. Dev.
She whispered urgently. Look at this.
I moved closer at first, the shapes hanging from the sinew
courts, barely registered as real.
But as my vision adjusted reality set in a tree of Dead,
Rabbits fresh kills strung neatly just beyond the edge of
our 10th blood dripped from their limp forms soaking
silently into the dirt below. Did you hear anything?
I asked? Barely Audible.
Maria shook her head, her face pale.
Nothing. I woke up and just saw them,
Chris appeared beside us, his voice tense.
What's going on? He froze, when he saw the
animals Nate stumbled out behind him.
Confusion shifting, instantly to horror my boots.
Nate muttered. They're gone.
We stared at the spot where he left them neatly by his tent
flap. Nothing remained.
Not a lace, not a print in the dirt someone was here.
Chris breathed, no footsteps. I pointed out scanning the
ground with my flash light. The leaves lay on Disturbed,
nothing marked a trail, no bent grass, no snap twigs.
Whoever placed the rabbits had moved with impossible,
Precision. I don't like this.
Maria said, tightly her voice strained.
Not at all. Pack up Chris ordered quickly.
We're going back to the Hermits Camp.
Maybe we'll find some sign of him.
Some clue to who the hell this is.
Nobody argued, we broke Camp rapidly anxiety, urging our
hands into Swift practice movements within minutes.
Our packs were loaded and we were Tracing Our steps.
Back through the dim, pre-dawn glue, As daylight crept weekly
through the trees we emerged into the clearing.
We discovered yesterday only to find nothing but empty space.
It's gone. Nate said his voice Halo.
The whole Camp is just gone. The clearing stood empty too
empty. No fire ring no bark walls.
No drying racks. The ground was undisturbed as if
the campsite had simply never existed.
No Maria whispered fiercely scrolling frantically through
the GPS on her phone, it was right here.
I marked it yesterday. This is exactly the spot.
I crouched feeling the dirt beneath my fingertips, searching
desperately for signs of recent disturbance.
Nothing, it was impossibly pristine.
It doesn't make sense. Chris said softly shaking his
head in disbelief Nate swallowed audibly pacing nervously at the
clearings edge. This is wrong.
So wrong. My eyes caught Maria's.
Her jaw was set. Firmly determined yet
vulnerable. I nodded slightly confirming
silently. What we both felt.
We weren't just being watched. We were being warned.
Hours later, after another exhausting hike.
We found a small spot far from both.
Campsites this time, making certain it had clear sightlines
in every direction. Assisted we build a fire again
not for warmth or cooking but as a defiant Comfort against the
oppressive weight of the Wilderness, Maria sat beside me
eyes, distant fingers, nervously, twisting.
A piece of cord from her pack. She turned suddenly Voice Low
barely above a whisper. Dev, tell me something.
Anything. You saw those snares yesterday.
The way they were made. You knew something I could see
it in your face. I hesitated.
She deserved the truth. Yeah.
Military survival, training. Whoever built those knows
exactly how to vanish Without a Trace.
How to move, quietly, erase every sign, how to intimidate.
Maria, swallowed knotting slowly, that's what I thought.
Chris fed more wood into the Flames causing Shadows to shift.
Restlessly around us, Nate stared outward eyes.
Fixed on the Shadows jaw. Clenched tight night came again,
deeper and colder. Before turning in, I checked the
area, thoroughly flash. Light being scouring every tree
trunk branch and patch a earth. Nothing seemed out of place
until I noticed a thin Loop of twine tied.
Discreetly around a branch at the very edge of our perimeter.
It hadn't been there early, a simple Loop, a subtle
unmistakable message. We were in his territory and he
knew exactly where we were, none of us slept, Dawn crept into the
clearing Bleak, and colorless and found us already packing our
gear intense silence. The feeling of being watched
hadn't faded, it pressed heavier now, palpable thick like
humidity before a storm. Cheap Mountain felt hostile in a
way of us had anticipated. It wasn't just Nature's
indifference. Someone wanted us gone.
Maria stayed close beside me as we pushed toward the mark
Trailhead near Durban, our fastest route, back to safety.
Chris said a rapid Pace ahead. His Compass held tightly jaw set
in stubborn determination. Nate, followed behind us his
head jerking frequently at every snap of a twig or rustle of
leaves. No one spoke every shadow, every
movement in the thick brush. Seemed threatening more than
once. I caught Chris.
Checking behind us eyes, narrowed, and scanning.
When we finally saw the gravel parking lot through the thinning
trees relief, surged through my veins.
Parked at the far, end a Department of Natural Resources
truck. Idled tailgate open as a
uniformed officer stood taking notes on a clipboard.
He glanced up startled by our hurried emergence from the woods
you folks. Okay, he called concern obvious
in his voice. Chris moved quickly toward him
already shaking his head. Not really.
We gather around words spilling out from us all at once,
descriptions of the Hermits, campsite the drying meet the
Precision snares Maria's voice broke slightly when she
described the rabbits hanging silently outside our tent.
Nate shook. Visibly, his eyes darting from
the officer to the shadowed Forest behind us.
The officer raised a hand. Slowly urging us to slow down.
Hold on. Wait you said you found a camp.
Yes, Chris insisted. And when we went back,
everything was gone, no traces at all.
Like it was never there. The officers eyes narrowed
thoughtful, but unsurprised. Drying racks snares, expertly
built shelter. I nodded heart thudding harder
in my chest. Exactly.
He lowered his clipboard in exhaled slowly, as though he'd
been expecting this, did you touch anything?
Just photos native, nervously. That's it.
The officer rubbed, his forehead sided again and looked toward
the Mountain Ridge behind us. I think what you folks
encountered was old Scott? Old Scott.
Maria asked cautiously her voice hesitant wary of the answer.
Scott Maddox. The officer explained quietly.
Ex-military Army. Ranger after his wife died in
98, he walks straight into cheat Mountain.
No one saw him again. Officially declared dead in
2001, but sightings never really stopped my skin prickled with
cold realization. I knew those methods, those
survival techniques ranger training taught you how to live,
unseen, undetectable silent dangerous.
Your serious. Chris asked his skepticism
fading quickly. This guy's been out here for
nearly 30 years. The officer noted solemnly more
than a few folks have run into his handiwork.
Sometimes he leaves warning animals snares other times just
vanishes into thin air. Maria glanced at me, fear
evident in her eyes. Why hasn't anyone found him?
Because he doesn't want to be found, I answered quietly the
officer nodded in confirmation his gaze steady.
We thanked him, our voice is subdued.
Nate shaking, but finally calm climbed into Chris's car.
First Maria, sat silently beside me in the backseat staring
blankly out the window. As Chris turned, the car back
toward Elkins, the tension eased slightly as we pass through
Durban, but none of us relaxed. Completely each mile put cheap
Mountain farther behind yet the feeling of intrusion, lingard,
deep and uncomfortable. Hours later back in town, Chris
handed me his phone on. The screen was a grainy
newspaper, clipping from 27 years ago.
Veteran vanishes in cheat Mountain after wife's death.
The accompanying photo showed a smiling confident man in
uniform. Someone I'd like to have
respected it felt wrong, almost impossible that this man skilled
and disciplined had vanished Into the Wilderness, becoming a
ghost haunting the living. As I studied the photograph a
message notification flashed on Chris's screen.
Nate had sent something a picture attachment with the
words photos back. Just reappeared.
Check this out. I clicked it open.
It was Nate's. Original photo from the Hermits
Camp. The Rusted meat hooks swinging
gently from the branch? But something else appeared now
lurking in the shadows behind it.
Vague yet, unmistakably, real a figure standing perfectly.
Still almost invisible. Barely discernible from the
trees around it. Maria leaned in eyes widening
sharply. Oh my God.
Chris's hands shook slightly as he took the phone back staring
at the Blurred indistinct form. The shadowed figure watched
silently from behind the meat hook a quiet threat a final
reminder of the boundary we'd crossed.
It Scott, Maddox a man declared dead decades ago, hadn't
vanished. He had simply become something
else, a warning. Whispered by locals glimpsed
briefly by unlucky campers existing somewhere between
Legend and reality. Cheat Mountain belonged to him
and we'd been wise enough or lucky enough to heed the
warning. But as we drove away, I knew
none of us would ever shake. The image of that blurry figure.
Scott, Maddox The Hermit remained out there hidden
watching waiting. before you ever touch the water, you feel
the weight of the place, the Gully River carves its way
through mountains, that hold their secrets tight, They are
old bones. Webbed with abandoned coal
mines, and forgotten logging roads.
In the 1930s, accompany desperate for hydroelectric.
Power drove a three-mile tunnel through the silica-rich Rock at
Hawk's Nest. They gave the workers mostly
poor black men from the south. No masks, no ventilation
nothing. The dust they breathed in turn
their lungs to Stone a disease. They called tonal itis.
They died by the hundreds, maybe thousands drowning on dry land.
They were buried in unmarked Fields their short lives in
agonizing deaths, absorbed into the very Bedrock of West
Virginia. Appalachia People, here know the
story. They know the mountain
remembers. The October are had a sharp
clean Edge to it. The kind that makes your lungs
feel new below. The immense concrete face of the
Summersville Dam, the put in was a Controlled Chaos of color and
sound rafts of screaming, yellow, and electric blue Les
overturned on the rocky Shore, like giant beetles.
The air smelled of damp neoprene and Pine.
A steady deep throated, Rumble, vibrated up through the soles of
my paddling booties. The sound of the dam releasing
the Gauley waking it up for the day.
You nervous. Ben's voice was close to my ear.
His breath, a warm cloud in the cold, he bumped, his hip against
mine, his grin a little too wide, a little too bright.
Should I be? I asked cinching the strapped on
my helmet. First time on the Beast, he
said, trying for a casual tone, his strength was in his
shoulders and back built from years, in a climbing gym, but
the river was a different kind of animal.
It didn't care about your grip strength.
This trip had been my idea my gift to him to us.
A final wild adventure before the seasons turned for good.
I felt a familiar hum under my skin, the mix of reverence and
adrenaline, the Gauley always gave me.
Liam and Chloe are seasoned companions were already by their
raft. Moving with an easy economy of
motion that spoke of countless River Trip's.
Liam built like a retired linebacker methodically checked
the air pressure in the rafts Chambers.
Chloe, his wife was smaller but radiated a wiry strength.
Her salt and pepper braids tucked, neatly under her helmet.
Her brother Noah was a decade younger than the rest of us.
A lanky kid. Buzzing with an almost frantic
energy. A GoPro was already strapped to
his helmet. Its little red light blinking
recording, All right, people, listen up a guide with a beard
like a wild bird's nest, called out Gathering our group.
The Gauley is a Class 5 river, that means there are serious
risks. You listen to your guide you
paddle when they say paddle and you hold on tight.
The river gives and the river takes.
Today, let's make sure it just gives you a good time.
The speech was standard. But the phrase hung in the air,
the river gives. And the river takes once we
pushed off the world, narrowed to the raft, the crew and the
water. Bends.
Nervousness, melted away replaced by the focused
intensity. The river demands We worked as a
unit paddles dipping, and Rhythm our body's bracing against the
jolts and sprays. the first few Big Rapids, the legendary Big 5
were a glorious violent blur at pillow rock a house sized
Boulder that creates a turning hydraulic.
Our guide steered us perfectly along the edge and we Shot
Through The Wave train with, whoops of Triumph.
The water was a living thing, powerful and impartial.
Cold spray, shocked my face and the roar was all-encompassing.
Between the chaos of the Rapids were moments of impossible.
Calm we drifted through stretches, where the gorge walls
layered with Shale and dotted with hearty trees Rose.
Hundreds of feet into the overcast sky.
It was in one of these quiet pools that the mood shifted a
dense, dark stretch of forest clung to the Steep Hillside
looking older and less touched than the rest.
Liam who had been silently scanning the shoreline pointed
with his paddle. Hawks Nest country.
He said his voice low and flat. The easy humor was gone from his
face. The tunnel runs right through
there. Noah ever the documentarian
swivel to his head is that the place with the, you know, With
the ghosts. Liam.
Let out a short sharp breath. That wasn't alive.
The Men Who breathed the mountain.
Yeah, they say they were buried. All through these Hills wherever
they fell. Some things are worse than
ghosts, kid. He turned away his expression,
grim and the conversation died. A cold.
I hadn't felt before one that had nothing to do with the
water, seemed to settle over the raft.
The sky, which had been a uniform grey began to darken.
A strange cold Mist started to rise from the river's surface.
Clinging to the water and blurring the edges of the gorge
walls. We were approaching iron ring a
rapid named for a rust. Pitted piece of metal embedded
in a Riverside Boulder. A Relic from a time when men
tried to tame this water with chains, it was a technical run
with a nasty hydraulic hole that had a reputation for holding
onto boats. Our line was off, I felted a
second before our guide shouted. We hit a submerged Rock a
glancing. But powerful blow that spun, the
rafts sideways. The world tilted violently
instead of punching through the first wave.
We were slammed into it and the rivers full monstrous power
drove us directly into the hole. It wasn't a capsized, it was an
explosion. The roar became a physical
presence, a deafening white noise that vibrated through my
bones. I was ripped from the raft, my
grip torn away as if by a giant hand.
I saw Noah's GoPro ripped from its mouth, a tiny black Speck
tumbling into the Turning Abyss. I saw Chloe's face her mouth
opened in a Silent Scream her eyes wide with shock before she
was gone. The last thing I saw was Ben's
hand his fingers, straining for mine, just inches away.
Then the raft flipped and the world went dark.
The pressure was immense the cold.
Absolute, I was trapped underneath in a suffocating
roaring chaos. My lungs burned for, are my
limbs were tossed about like a dolls.
I didn't know, which way was up. Then my helmet scraped hard
against rock and a starburst of pain erupted behind my eyes.
The current took me dragging and tumbling me through a violent
underwater world. When my head finally broke the
surface. I was gasping choking my throat
raw from swallowing water. The Roar of the main river was
muffled distant. I was in a small secluded Cove.
A place hidden from the main Channel by a massive ancient
rockfall. The water.
Here was unnerving. Dark coated with a faint oily
Sheen. That caught the dim light.
My entire body was a symphony of pain, but a sharp searing fire
in my left arm told me something was badly broken.
I saw him then. A few yards away, a flash of red
helmet and blue. Life jacket been He was half in
half out of the water, his body limp.
Ignoring the agony in my arm, I scrambled over the Slick, wet
rocks. I grabbed the back of his life
vest and pulled my boots slipping my muscles screaming, I
dragged him, fully onto the shore.
His face was pale. His eyes closed.
A nasty gash. On his forehead.
Bled sluggishly. I put my ear to his mouth and
felt a faint shallow breath. He was alive.
But as I listened, I heard the sound.
That would become the soundtrack to my horror with every labored
breath. He took a wet congested rattle
echoed from deep in his chest. I looked around frantically.
The shattered remains of our yellow.
Raft were snagged on the rocks at the cove's entrance, a
testament, to the river's power. But there was no sign of Liam of
Chloe of Noah. The sun was sinking Behind The
Gorge wall and the oppressive quiet of the Cove closed in.
We were alone injured and lost in a gap on the river, that no
map had ever shown. The thrill was gone replaced by
a cold sharp edged Terror. That was only just beginning the
sun bled out, behind the hard line of the gorge wall and the
gray light of dust settled. In to The Cove, it was a heavy
smothering, kind of quiet, broken only by the soft lapping
of water against the rocks, and the Ragged sound of Ben's
breathing. I've propped him against a
boulder, his head lolling to one side The gash on his forehead
had stopped bleeding but his skin was cold and clammy even
through his wet suit. Maya.
He whispered his eyes fluttering open.
They were unfocused. Glassy can't can't get warm.
I know been just rest. I pulled the tattered remnant of
a nylon tarp from the wreckage of the raft and draped it over
him. It was a useless gesture against
the profound cold sinking into our bones.
The Rocks beneath us were slick, not just with river water, but
with something else, I ran my fingers over the surface of the
boulder. A milky white substance thick
and cool. To the touch came away on my
fingertips. It left a chalky gritty residue.
When I rubbed my fingers together.
I saw a patches of it everywhere smeared across the dark stone.
Like grotesque snail trails. As the last of the light
vanished, a new sound began. It was low and rhythmic a dry
scraping noise at first. I thought it was the wind moving
through a fissure in the rock or maybe an animal, but it was too
steady, two mechanical. It seemed to come from the rock
face at the back of the Cove. A sound like, Stone grinding on
Stone or a thousand, tiny sharp breaths being drawn at once it
was a deeply unsettling sound, and it seemed to harmonize with
The Wretched rattle in Ben's chest.
Started to cough a deep hacking sound that echoed in the
enclosed space. It was a wet congested noise.
That spoke of lungs filling with fluid.
He was drowning slowly. Right next to me, a fine, cold
drizzle began to fall turning the rocks from slick to
treacherous. I had to get him out of the
open, my eyes scanned, the back of the Cove.
Trying to pinpoint the source of the rasping sound.
I saw a dark fissure in the rock face a deeper shadow in the
Gloom. It looked like our only option
for shelter. Been, we have to move.
I slip my shoulder under his arm.
Hoisting him up the pain. In my broken.
Arm was a nauseating white, hot fire, but I locked it away.
Ben was deadweight, his feet. Dragging on the Stone's.
Every step was an Agony as we got closer.
I saw that the Fisher was no natural cave.
The opening was crudely squared off rotted moss covered Timbers
black with age and moisture where wedged around the
entrance. It was a mine shaft.
A forgotten hold dug into the side of the mountain.
The rasping sound was louder here a constant grating home
emanating from the darkness Within The air inside was thick
heavy with the smell of wet, Earth of Decay and something
else. A faint acrid chemical odor,
that pricked at the back of my throat.
The white secretions were thicker here, coating the walls,
and pale leprous patches. We stumbled just inside the
entrance, the drizzle stopping abruptly behind us.
The darkness in front of us was absolute.
Ben was seized by another coughing fit.
This one more violent than the last.
The sound was shocking in the tight space.
Each hack and gasp Amplified. He collapsed against the wall.
Sliding to the floor, the moment, his coughing stopped,
the other sound, the rhythmic from the tunnels depths also
stopped a dead. Ringing silence, filled the
mine. I held my breath, every muscle.
In my body tents, my heart, hammered against my ribs.
Then from the deep impenetrable, Blackness ahead a single wet
hacking cough. Sounded It was a perfect mimicry
of bends. It was an answer, the blood
drained from my face. It was an echo.
We were not alone in the tunnel after a long moment, the
rhythmic sound slowly resumed as if nothing had happened.
White dust been murmured from the floor.
His voice was thin and Reedy he was feverish his eyes wide with
delirium. It's in my lungs.
They're all all just men with no faces.
His breathing was a constant agonized wheeze.
Now the rasping from the mine seemed to deepen in response.
Growing closer I couldn't stay in there.
I scrambled back to the entrance.
My body, shaking uncontrollably and looked out at the cove.
The drizzle had thinned and pale Moonlight filtered through a
break in the clouds. Casting The Cove in a sickly
gray light. I saw movement in the murky
water. A pale form, broke the surface.
It was humanoid but horribly fundamentally wrong.
Its skin was a slick, corpse white, the color of the
secretions on the rocks. It moved with an unnatural
fluidity hoisting itself. Onto a boulder.
Its limbs were too long. It's joints bending at angles.
That a human body could not achieve.
It had no eyes only a smooth unbroken, expansive skin where
they should have been the thing unfolded itself standing on the
rock, it turned, its blank head towards the mine entrance as if
it had sentenced me as if it had been waiting, it opened a wide
lipless mouth. And from that dark cavity came,
the sound, the sound. It was the horrible.
Wet rasping weeds. I had been hearing from The
Rock, The sound of lungs. Not breathing air but grinding
it. The chest cavity of the creature
visibly, fluttered with the effort.
It was not just making the sound, it was the sound.
It was an embodiment of the disease that had haunted this
place, a predator drawn to the weakness in Ben's lungs.
It slipped off the rock, its wet pale feet making no sound on the
stones and began to move toward me, it moved toward the mine
entrance with an unnatural smoothness, its long pale, limbs
carrying it over the Slick rocks without a sound.
Its blank face was fixed on the darkness, where we huddled.
It was coming for the sound and Ben's chest.
It was coming for the sickness. Been lay on the mine floor, his
body shuddering with each agonized weeds.
He was lost in his fever dream unaware of the approaching
shape, the creatures rasping grew louder closer, a dry
grinding, sound that vibrated through the stone beneath me.
In that moment, a brutal Clarity cut through my Terror.
I could stay, I could die with him or I could run.
Survival is an ugly selfish Instinct it strips.
Everything else away a sob caught in my throat.
I crawled to Ben's side. His skin was hot to the touch.
I whispered an apology that was lost in the sound of his
breathing and the creatures, rasp I pressed my lips to his
feverish forehead for a fraction of a second.
Then I ran I scrambled out of the mine.
My broken arms screaming and protests, as I slammed it
against The Rock, I didn't look back.
I couldn't. The creatures rasping grew
faster closer behind me. Then from the mine, I heard a
final terrible gurgling cry, that was cut short with a wet
final sound. I didn't hesitate I launched my
self from the rocky Bank away from the Hidden Cove and plunged
into the main channel of the golly.
The cold was a physical blow it. Punched the air from my lungs
and sent a shock through my system.
That nearly stopped my heart, the rivers Roar was deafening a
chaotic violence that swept me away, instantly dragging me
under and tumbling Me Through The Dark.
It was a Maelstrom of black water, and gray rock, and it
washed away, the sound from The Cove.
I fought my way to the surface gasping.
My life Fest kept my head above water, but the current was
relentless, I was swept Downstream in the dark, a
helpless piece of debris. The world narrowed to a fight to
keep my face out of the water to take a breath before the next
wave crashed over me. I snagged on something.
In the dark, a floating log, a piece of our shattered raft, I
clung to it, my good hand locked around it.
My broken arm, a dead weight The cold seeped deeper past my skin,
into my bones into my core. My thoughts became sluggish, the
images from The Cove replaying in my mind.
The white secretions Benz, rattling, breathe.
The blank face of the creature hours must have passed.
The black of the gorge walls, softened to a charcoal gray.
Dawn was breaking. I was barely conscious when I
heard a new sound cutting through the rivers Roar the buzz
of an engine, a boat appeared Through The Mists men inside
pointing at me. Hands strong and sure hauled my
limp body from the water. I was wrapped.
In course, blankets voices were muffled distant.
They were asking me questions, but the words would inform.
I tried to tell them I tried to explain about the Cove, the
mine, the thing that came out of the water, My words were a
jumbled Delirious mess? They looked at me with pity.
The look, people gives someone whose mind has broken from
trauma. They saw my injuries, my
hypothermia and they heard only fantasy later in the warmth of
the rescue boat. A man with kind eyes and a grim
face told me they had found Noah's body snagged in a
strainer miles Downstream. Liam and Chloe were still
missing the official search for them was ongoing, but his tone
told me there was no hope they were all gone, my world became a
sterile white room, in a hospital in Charleston.
The steady rhythmic beeping of monitors replaced the Roar of
the river. My arm was encased in a hard
white cast men in uniforms. Officials asked me questions.
I told my story again my voice flat and horse.
I described the Hidden Cove, the abandoned, mine the creature.
They wrote in their notepads, their faces and passive.
The official report they later told me would state.
It was a tragic rafting accident.
A search of the area I indicated had found nothing.
No Cove. Know mine.
The river gives and the river takes.
My story was a hallucination, a side effect of trauma and a
brain rattled by a Blow To The Head.
My physical wounds began to heal, but something else was
wrong. The doctors were puzzled.
I was being treated for exposure and pneumonia likely from
aspirating river water, but my lungs weren't getting better.
The infection was resistant to every antibiotic they tried.
In the quiet of the hospital room.
A new sound, began to surface. A slight persistent weeds in my
own breathing. When I was alone, when the
nurses had gone and the machines were the only sound I could hear
it. A faint dry rasping sound with
every exhale. It was a ghost of the creatures
called and it was coming from inside me.
Weaks passed. I remained in the hospital, a
medical curiosity. I was weak and the rasp in my
breath was my constant companion.
One night, I pushed myself out of bed and shuffled into the
attached bathroom. The face in the mirror was a
stranger gone, pale with dark circles under the eyes.
I had been avoiding my own gaze for days, but this time I forced
myself to look closer, That's when I saw it across the Deep
Brown of my irises, a faint milky, white film.
Was creeping inward from the edges.
It was like a cataract made of chalk dust a delicate,
branching, pattern of white against the dark.
It was the same substance. I had seen on the rocks in the
cove. The same residue that had come
away on my fingers. I survived.
But I did not Escape. I had brought the sickness out
of the mountain with me. Staring at my own changing
reflection listening to the new familiar sound of my own
breathing. I understood that the rasping
had only just begun. Unaka mountains sits right on
the Tennessee, North Carolina border cloaked in thick Spruce
and fur. Forests that rarely see direct
sunlight. They say the Cherokee once
revered, these Peaks as sacred, maybe even haunted.
I never believed in ghosts stories, but I understood why
some folks avoided hiking here after Dark.
In October 1976 8 year old, Caleb Merit vanished, near
ohnaka Mountain Overlook. Despite a massive search no
Trace was ever found. Locals still whispered his name
from time to time, but mostly they stayed away from that
stretch of the ridge. The Disappearance of eventually
became a faded footnote in park history, just another
unfortunate accident, officially unsolved, 49 years later I came
to that same Ridge alone determined to record.
Nocturnal Wildlife sounds for my senior biology project at
Western Carolina University. I wasn't Reckless, I'd done solo
trips, before I figured, I'd spend three nights camping
quietly and taking audio samples straightforward safe.
I parked at the trailhead around noon and hiked up toward the
Overlook, the Appalachian Trail here was narrow slippery with
moss and fallen leaves. The are thick and cold enough to
see my breath. The Mist was low hanging like
thin gauze between the trees, my boots sank, gently into the
spongy Earth. As I followed a faint path off
the main trail to a small flat clearing, I'd marked on my GPS.
By late after noon, I'd pitched my tent beneath two tall spruces
and set up. My parabolic microphones around
camp. Everything was perfectly quiet.
No hike is passing by no squirrels chattering.
Not even the faint Buzz of insects.
It was like nature was holding its breath.
I scribbled quick notes in my journal about the Eerie
Stillness unsure if I was capturing Serenity or something.
Stranger As night fell, I zipped myself into the tent and began
monitoring the audio feed at first, just silence almost
deafening in how absolute it felt then.
Finally around midnight, the soft calls of a distant screech
owl, drifted into my headphones, I marked down the time relieved.
At least something normal was happening, but minutes later the
woods fell silent again, more abruptly than before unnaturally
abrupt. Then I heard something else.
So fainted at first, I nearly missed it footsteps, carefully,
moving around the tent, slow and steady, my pulse quickened.
And I held my breath straining to listen, not a deer too.
Rhythmic to deliberate and not heavy enough for a bear, I
whispered sharply. Hello.
But the footsteps continued softly circling slowly around
the tent. I gripped my flash light and
unzip the tent flap just enough to appear out.
My light beam swept the perimeter but nothing moved in
the inky blackness. The footsteps stopped as
suddenly as they'd started. I waited.
Flash light trembling slightly in my grip.
The second stretching painful you into minutes.
Nothing else moved or stirred. Eventually convinced, I'd
spooked myself, I sealed up the tent again and laid back down,
but sleep was impossible. Every Russell, every snap of a
distant twig, seemed Amplified until dawn finally crept into
the sky. Exhausted.
I crawled out stretching stiff, Limbs and breathing deeply of
the cold damp air then, I saw them.
Small Footprints pressed softly into the Moss.
No more than a yard from my tent.
Child-sized Footprints Barefoot. Clearly outlined My breath
caught in my throat, as I stared down trying to rationalize what
I saw. No adult Prince nearby.
No signs of animals. Just these small impossibly out
of place tracks, I packed a small day bag and left Camp
feeling uneasy. As I rejoined, the main trail
Halfway down to the Overlook. I met an older hiker, coming the
opposite way. He paused looking me up and down
his eyes lingering on my gear. Something in his expression,
shifted from mild curiosity to concern.
You can't back past the Overlook.
He asked quietly. Yeah, doing a project up here.
I replied trying to sound casual, he nodded slowly
scratching at his Gray. Beard his gaze settled somewhere
passed my shoulder as if he were recalling something deeply
unpleasant. You heard about Caleb Merit, he
finally asked. The missing kid, right?
From the 70s. He nodded again, solemnly this
time, they never did find that boy.
Most folks around here, say some places, just don't let go of
what's lost. I tried to smile politely but my
face felt suddenly cold be careful up there son.
He said softly stepping aside to let me pass, sometimes the
woods, get curious, best not to give them a reason I moved on
quickly but his words lingard heavily as I returned to the
camp to face another long night on unaka mountain.
By midday the old hikers. Words were still circling inside
my head. The fog had settled deeper into
the trees, turning everything around me, gray and uncertain.
Determined to focus. I spent the next several hours,
placing microphones high in the spruce and fur branches, hoping
to capture clearer recording of nocturnal wildlife.
Still the feeling of being watched was inescapable, like a
constant weight pressing between my shoulder blades, when I
returned to Camp shortly before dusk, an uneasy sensation
crawled down my spine. I stopped at the edge of my
clearing squinting into the growing Darkness.
Something was different. My pack, lay against a fallen
log where I left it, but the main Zipper was open, I
approached slowly pulse quickening peering inside, I saw
everything. Still neatly arranged food,
untouched gear, exactly. As I packed it, it didn't make
sense. Then my eyes fell to my hiking
boots. Positioned carefully side by
side, near the tent flap. They'd been scrubbed clean of
mud and Moss. I felt my mouth.
Go dry. I knew without question.
I tossed them. Their hastily muddy Souls up.
I glanced nervously into the trees around the camp, the
Shadows deepening by the second. It felt like an invitation know
a message. Stay calm.
I told myself firmly though. My hands shook slightly as I set
up, my wildlife camera on the trunk of a nearby Spruce.
I pointed it at carefully toward my tent angling, it to cover the
spot where I had seen the footprints that morning.
If something returned, I'd catch it clearly on video.
Night fell fast bringing with it a raw by biting chill.
I crawled into my tent, secured the flap and settled myself
against my pack ears straining. The microphone system fed into
my headphones, turning every faint rustle and distant, snap
into a nerve-racking Symphony. I listened intently, barely
breathing waiting for anything unusual.
Around midnight, it began again the soft slow footsteps circling
outside a creeping dread settled in my stomach, heavy and
nauseating. I held, absolutely still afraid.
Even the slightest movement might give me away.
Each step moved deliberately pressing softly into the Moss,
stopping briefly beside my head, that moving around the tent,
once more, then beneath that Rhythm came a sound even more.
Unsettling, a low. Gentle humming childlike.
Almost playful floating through the fabric, just inches from my
face. My heart, pounded furiously and
I squeezed my eyes. Shut willing.
Myself to remain calm. This couldn't be happening, but
the sound persisted clear and unhurried lingering long after
the footsteps at stopped. Minutes passed slow, painful
minutes. Until finally, in desperation, I
whispered into the darkness whose there Instant silence.
The humming ceased immediately. I lay there, Frozen, breathe,
shallow straining to detect any further movement, nothing
stirred. Had it left, or was it simply
waiting listening, just beyond the thin tent fabric?
A sudden flash illuminated the tent sharp and startling, my
wildlife camera had been triggered.
Something was out there, I curled tightly in my sleeping
bag. Shivering counting down each
agonizing, second until dawn When Pale Light, finally seeped
through the fabric, exhaustion was Heavy in every limb, but I
forced myself to crawl outside. Slowly dread pooling in my
chest. I approached the wildlife
camera. I detached to carefully my
fingers numb from more than just cold.
As I checked the playback screen my blood turned to ice.
The image was blurry from the fog and darkness, but there it
was a small pale. Figure crawling toward my tent
on all fours, limbs elongated and unnatural the head tilted,
oddly toward the camera, The woods around me felt suddenly
colder less forgiving. I stood motionless camera.
Trembling in my hands. Whatever was out here wasn't to
an animal and it certainly wasn't human not anymore.
I stood motionless camera grip. Tightly my mind racing to
process. What I'd seen the creature on
the screen was pale, crouched low, its limbs unnaturally
stretched. It was humanoid small and
fragile. Yet completely alien in its
posture. The Blurred face revealed
nothing but shadowed Hollows For Eyes, a sudden rustle echoed,
softly behind me. Startling me from my trance.
I spun around breath tightened my chest, but the clearing was
empty. The wind whispered gently
through the branches carrying a faint scent of damp Earth and
decay. I forced myself to slow my
breathing, but the woods around me seemed to close tighter with
every passing second. Every Instinct screamed to leave
immediately. Forget the microphone's forget,
the gear just run. I glanced down at my tent
noticing the flaps swaying gently.
In the breeze half opened revealing the dark interior.
I knew I'd sealed at tightly my stomach.
Twisted, I moved quickly. Stuffing Essentials into my
pack, my hands Shook on controllably, as I fought with
zippers and straps. I refused to look around
convinced that if I did, I see something terrible watching
waiting ready to crawl toward me again minutes later gear.
Hastily gathered. I bolted from the campsite heart
hammering painfully in my ribs. The trail blurred beneath my
feet, slick Moss, threatening to trip me as I raced toward the
Overlook, Twice. I slipped catching myself on
Jagged rocks and Roots feeling the sting of scraped Palms.
But Panic, drove me relentlessly onward at the overlooked
Junction. I slowed briefly to catch my
breath. Standing there.
Silhouetted against the fog was the old hiker from before. he
watched me silently his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning, He
made no move to approach. Just nodded once slowly a
gesture waited with solemn acknowledgment.
My throat closed tight, but I managed to shaky nod and return
before pushing onward driven by fear more powerful than
curiosity. I reached my truck just before
dusk fumbling with the keys throwing my pack, carelessly
into the bed. Tires spun and gravel as I sped
down the winding road away from unaka Mountain and whatever
lingard in its missed covered forests.
Days later after countless sleepless nights haunted, by the
Blurred images from the wildlife camera.
I took the footage to the forest service station.
The ranger behind the desk, accepted it with a practice look
of weary skepticism. A month later, I received an
email, a terse message claiming the footage had been corrupted
impossible to recover. I sat numbly staring at the
screen until my phone buzzed. The caller was an unknown
number, but I answered anyway desperate for answers.
You camped on that, ridge above unaka, Overlook a Gruff voice
asked without introduction. A pause.
Then softer. We don't Patrol up there
anymore. Folks here have unofficial
beliefs, some things are better left alone.
The line clicked dead before I could respond.
My fingers, hovered over my computer, hesitating briefly
before, finally, deleting every backup of the footage.
Something's not meant to be shared, some truths, carry to
cost, too heavy to Bear weeks passed.
I abandoned the wildlife biology project, avoided hiking trails,
slept with the lights on. And yet one quiet night lying
awake in the unnatural brightness of my room.
I heard a faint noise, soft, careful footsteps on carpet. my
breath caught sharply, as I sat upright pulse pounding painfully
Across the room, the closet doors to slightly a jar.
On the floor, one of my hiking boots had fallen over.
I swallowed hard throat, dry with Dread.
The soul was perfectly clean scrubbed.
Free of dirt and Moss just like before.
Denali National Park is a wild and unforgiving place in winter.
Nearly 6 million Acres of rugged isolated terrain sprawl out
beneath the icy Alaskan, Sky home to Grizzlies, wolves and
Sub-Zero temperatures that steel, warmth from the bones
quicker than you can realize. It's a place I've learned to
respect deeply knowing how swiftly its beauty can turn
lethal. My name is Ellie Warren and this
was my first real winter assignment as a ranger Cadet.
I'd always dreamed of working in Wilderness Parks, but even after
months of training nothing, quite prepares you for Denali in
February. 3 weeks, earlier reports began filtering into
headquarters from hikers, who had stumbled across unusual,
bone piles, and strange markings on trees, along the Stampede
Trail. there were Whispers of animal mutilation but no one
knew what predator could or would arrange bones so
deliberately Rangers Stan, Keller, and Julia Maddox were
tasked with investigating and I had been allowed to tag along to
gain hands-on experience. On a frozen Wednesday morning,
we loaded up the snowmobiles at the parks Northern Outpost near
Healy. Julia drove with me.
Tucked behind her gripping. Tightly to the handles of the
seat. Stan wrote alone leading the way
deeper into the Park's dense. Spruce forests.
At first, the ride, felt exhilarating A Rush of Chris,
Baier and endless pristine white stretching out ahead.
But the farther we traveled along the Stampede Trail, the
more uneasy I felled. The Towering, black Spruce,
crowded closer casting Deep Shadows that seemed immune to
sunlight. I adjusted my GoPro secured to
my chest for documenting our survey.
Standard practice for training missions, but the battery
indicator was already flickering.
Oddly dipping lower than it. Should this early into the trip.
Stan raised, his hand signaling for us to slow down.
He gestured toward a clearing to the left.
My breath caught sharply, when I saw it, a neat spiral of animal
bones, placed meticulously in the untouched snow at the top,
satisky and gleaming in the pale, winter, sunlight, Julia,
parked our snowmobile beside Stan's and we stepped off
cautiously. The snow was deep crunching,
softly, beneath our boots. No tracks Stan.
Muttered crouching near the pile.
Nothing at all. Not even scavenger prints.
Julia circled slowly studying the perimeter, her brow
furrowed. That's impossible.
Something arranged these bones. I felt my pulse Quicken the
bones were entirely stripped of Flesh smooth and clean as
polished Stone carefully almost reverently placed.
Stand straightened abruptly nodding toward a tall Spruce
nearby look Julia and I move toward the tree long vertical
gouges had been carved deeply into the bark.
Rising at least 12 feet from the ground.
Two deliberate to be accidental and too high to be from a bear
or wolf. Julia.
Glanced at Stan, unease flickering briefly in her eyes.
She reached for her radio and click the transmission button.
static crackled loudly but no voice responded from The Outpost
She shook her head. Frustration evident radio
signals spotty. Stan, glanced back toward the
bones spiral. We should keep going.
At least to the old cabin site. Something might be Sheltering
nearby. Julia nodded slowly hesitantly
and we mounted our snowmobiles again.
By tightened my gloves suppressing, a chill that wasn't
just from the cold. My fingers trembled slightly as
I restarted the GoPro, hoping it would keep recording.
By dusk the sky, bruised with Twilight, shadows, and Julia,
guided us to a small clearing beside a frozen stream.
We set Camp quickly. There were no sounds, No Birds,
no rustling Wildlife, just heavy silence.
That seemed unnatural even in the quiet of winter.
Stan built a small fire flames flickering weekly against the
oppressive dark. I kept glancing back toward the
trees, feeling eyes that were not there.
Julia caught, my stare and gave a reassuring nod.
But her shoulders were tense. Sleep didn't come easily.
Wrapped tightly in my sleeping bag.
Every rustle of nylon sounded deafening I stared at the faint
glow of the tent fabric heart pounding when sometime.
After midnight a strange rhythmic noise echoed faintly
outside It wasn't footsteps, it was lighter sharper, a gentle
yet. Deliberate tapping, like snow
shaking from branches of It drifted closer, hovered briefly,
then faded into silence. By morning exhaustion intention
had carved dark circles. Beneath our eyes, as I unzip the
tent and stepped out a sudden, Dreadful realization made my
blood run cold One of the snowmobiles was gone Stan moved
quickly Examining The Faint Trail left in the snow.
His eyes widened as he traced the tracks.
They head uphill toward that Ridge but he paused scanning the
tree line. Confusion.
Clear. They just stopped.
I approached cautiously following his gaze.
Sure enough, the tracks halted abruptly halfway up the incline.
As if the snowmobile had vanished, mid-ride Julia,
checked her radio again. Nothing but static.
Her voice was calm, but I sensed tension barely controlled
beneath the surface. We need to go up and
investigate. As we strapped on snowshoes, I
kept my gaze locked on the darkening Ridgeline ahead.
something inside me stirred on easily, and for the first time,
since stepping foot in Denali, I questioned if we were truly
alone, we left our camp behind heading slowly uphill into the
deepening shadow of the trees unaware, that this decision
would become the last normal moment of our Expedition The
deeper, we moved into the Denali Wilderness, the more I felt my
grip on calm slipping away. With only one snowmobile left,
we pushed forward on snowshoes, our progress slowed dramatically
by the thick snowdrifts. The sky had turned gray and
daylight was fading more rapidly than expected.
Each crunching, step seemed unnaturally loud against the
oppressive Silence of the forest.
Julia kept glancing back toward me her eyes cautious, protective
even Stan, led the way pausing occasionally to scan the trees
with narrowed eyes? Something had shifted within him
a nervous Edge. A hesitation.
I'd never seen in the usually confident Ranger.
And now we're later, Stan abruptly raised a hand hold up,
I followed his gaze and felt a shutter rolled down my spine, a
second bone pile, lay just beyond a thick of Alder,
branches larger than the last darker against the snow.
Julia approached slowly. Her boots Sinking Deep.
Her flash Life playing across the unsettling seen this pile
was different. It was constructed from larger
bones thicker ribs and long curved vertebrae, carefully.
Lashed together with what looked like sinew.
My mouth went dry as I recognized their origin.
Unmistakably large enough to be human.
Stan, knelt face, Grim. Whoever did this?
Took their time, Julius said nothing.
She seemed transfixed staring at the bones as though she might
decipher their message if she looked long enough.
Finally, she shook her head visibly Disturbed?
Let's document quickly, we need to get out of here.
I turned to scan the surroundings, adjusting my GoPro
with trembling fingers. The battery indicator flickered.
Again, dangerously low, then from the corner of my eye, I
glimpsed movement. A shadowed figure between
distant trees. My heart left.
And I grabbed Stan sleeve urgently there.
I whispered Horsley pointing toward the tree line.
Stan, immediately raise his binoculars, Julius Stood Beside
him tense and silent. I could hear the faint rasp of
their breathing visible and puffs of fog dare Stan lowered,
the binoculars shaking his head. Nothing I saw something.
I insisted voice, barely audible tall watching us.
Julius my shoulder, it's getting dark, Ellie Shadows, play
tricks. Stan shook his head slowly
unconvinced? Know she's right.
Something's been following us since we found the first pile.
A gust of icy, wind rattled, the branches.
And we exchanged tense glances, Julia, clicked her radio
desperation lining her face only static replied.
Compass is off Stan said, quietly, shaking his head at the
small instrument in his hand. Its needle spun.
Lazily aimlessly. We've lost Direction,
completely. I felt a wave of panic.
Rise, sharply, in my throat, Julia clenched, her jaw and
forced calm into her voice. Will navigate by landmarks.
There was an old hunting cabin somewhere near here.
If we can reach, it will shelter for the night.
As Darkness fell swiftly, we stumbled through thickening snow
toward what we hoped was safety. My legs ached, my heart hammered
and every shadow felt alive with a hidden threat.
The trees, crowded closer, their dark forms pressing in making
every step a test of willpower. Finally, Julia pointed ahead.
A small clearing a half. Collapsed structure of whether
laws barely visible in the fading Twilight relief,
flickered, briefly, but died, instantly when Stan raised his
hand to silence us. Again, something moved nearby
subtle but purposeful. A scraping noise like a branch
deliberately dragged across bark.
My breath halted sharply in my throat.
Julia slowly Drew her flashlight upward Illuminating fresh gouges
carved High into a tree trunk, far above our heads deeper, and
more violent than before, Stan murmured, and disbelief those
weren't here before inside now, Julia's voice trembled urgency
overriding composure. We hurried into the shelter
quickly barricading. The entrance with a fallen beam
in chunks of Frozen debris, we sat inside the cramped Darkness.
Listening intently no one spoke. Outside a rhythmic tapping
resumed circling slowly around the cabin sawed, deliberate and
patient. My breath came in Shallow bursts
then without warning a shadow pressed suddenly against the
rotting boards, massive and Silent briefly, blotting out,
Moonlight seeping through cracks.
Julia, touched my hand silently urging me.
Not to move, not to breathe. Slowly the Shadow with Drew.
Silence returned oppressive and heavy until exhaustion, dragged
us into a weary shallow sleep. Hours later.
I jolted awake. My body froze, instantly sensing
something horribly wrong. Stand sleeping bag.
Lay open, shredded lengthwise Tufts of insulation drifting in
The Frigid Breeze. From a fresh Gap in the
barricade. His boots, still Stood Beside
his pack, he was gone, Julia stared, eyes wide horrified
without a word. We bolted outside our
flashlight, sweeping wildly drag marks led into the darkness
toward a ravine. We followed desperation driving
each frantic step until Julia halted abruptly, shining her
beam onto a low-hanging branch. Stan's ranger jacket hung, their
empty swinging gently, no blood. No further Trail.
Julia looked at me pale with unspoken dread.
The terrible truth hung heavily between us undeniable.
We were being hunted. My hands trembled violently as
Julia. And I stumbled back from the
empty jacket dangling in the Darkness.
Stan was gone taken and now we were alone.
Lost in the Frozen wilderness. I could feel Julia fighting
Panic as she studied. Her breathing eyes.
Darting around the Shadows. Searching for something
familiar. Anything to Anchor, our sanity.
we have to move she whispered hoarsely, where exposed here, we
retraced our steps toward Higher Ground straining against thigh,
deep snowdrifts, The night was bitter, a merciless wind slicing
through layers of clothing and biting into our bones.
Trees. Press tightly around us black
and Silent shielding. Whatever hunted us from View.
Julia moved stiffly ahead gripping a flashlight that
illuminated only a small circle of glittering snow.
I followed closely every sound every Creak of a branch or
Russell of snow sending sharp jolts of fear, surging through
my chest. I continually glanced behind us,
my GoPros tiny blinking, red light.
Barely reassuring the battery indicator.
Now flashing desperately low. Suddenly something crashed
through the brush behind us, a heavy rabbit approach loud and
undeniable. My heart.
Surged into my throat and Julia's voice.
Cracked through the Stillness in a desperate.
Shout run. We plunged forward blindly
adrenaline. Over exhaustion legs pumping
wildly. Julia tripped, stumbling
forward, sprawling into the snow.
I skidded to a halt turning back to help her as she struggled.
Upright. A blur tore from the trees,
something massive, and impossibly quick.
It sees Julia by her, backpack yanking her violently backward
Into Darkness. She didn't even scream.
Just a sharp shocked. Gasp abruptly silenced in an
instant. She vanished Panic.
Numbed me. Frozen breath hitching painfully
in my lungs. I stared helplessly into the
black void where Julia had disappeared.
Then reality crashed through my paralysis alone, utterly
exposed, I turned and ran Harder Faster than I thought possible.
My lungs. Burned icy are slashing through
my throat with every gasping breath.
Tears. Streamed down my face, freezing
and painful trails. Along my cheeks ahead.
Moonlight glinted off fractured ice.
A field of crevasses, spread across the slope like gaping
wounds in the glaciers surface. Desperation drove me into the
Maze of fishers. I nearly slipped catching myself
just before plummeting into a deep narrow Gap, barely wide
enough for a person. Driven by Raw Instinct.
I squeezed myself down into the crevice, wedging into a niche of
jagged ice pressing. My back painfully Against The
Frigid wall. Darkness, swallowed me whole.
I switched off my flashlight leaving only the faint red glow
of my GoPros indicator light. Minutes, dragged into hours.
My body convulsed uncontrollably from cold and fear every breath
sounded deafening impossibly loud in the tight space.
Above me, a faint noise began, a deliberate shifting of snow.
The careful crunching of something large approaching.
I held my breath. Heart hammering.
Eyes locked on a tiny Gap above Through it.
I saw a shadow blotting out the Moonlight massive silent
unmoving. My stomach Twisted violently
dread constricting, my throat then two luminous eyes.
Blinks slowly open pale faintly glowing inhumanly high above the
crevasse. They stared directly down at me
unwavering intelligent waiting. My blood ran ice cold Terror
paralyzed me, utterly my body, rigid unwilling, to breathe
unwilling, even to Blink. Slowly agonizingly slowly the
eyes vanished footsteps faded leaving, only silence and
lingering fear. I remained motionless cramped
and terrified until dawn. Crept faintly into the icy
crack. Finally daring to move.
I climbed painfully upward fingertips bloody from scraping
ice joints, stiff from prolonged Stillness.
I crawled onto the surface, the sky pale and empty.
The forest around me silent and indifferent with numb fingers.
I triggered the emergency beacon on my pack, collapsing into the
snow to wait, exhausted and half-dead.
Hours later a search team found me barely conscious hypothermic,
shaking violently from exposure and shock.
They airlifted me to Fairbanks and I drifted In and Out Of
Consciousness. My mind replaying Horrors to
Vivid to bear in a sterile hospital room.
I awoke to sympathetic faces and careful questions official
explanations filtered in quietly rational and neat.
Julia and Stan lost to whether missing presumed dead in an
avalanche prone area. Know I whispered Horsley voiced,
trembling something, took them the investigators noted
patiently pityingly my GoPro had been recovered but I was told to
footage was corrupted unreadable.
Technical malfunction. They insisted gently.
It happens. Days Later, discharged and
Hollow IDE. I returned home haunted by
disbelief and Nightmares. Alone in my apartment wrapped in
blankets. I removed a backup SD card, I
had hidden deep in my pack. Hands shaking, breathe shallow,
I played back the footage on my laptop.
Blurry frames sped by trees. Snow, the briefest glimpses of
movement until it froze abruptly on a single clear frame.
Tall unnatural human-shaped yet. Undeniably wrong.
Two faintly glowing eyes, stared back at me.
Caught perfectly between trees. Impossibly high from the ground,
my pulse, quick, and sharply hands.
Trembling I stared into, the creatures eyes is again.
Dread returning with nauseating Force.
I knew what I had seen it had followed us hunted us and it
would wait patiently silent in the wilderness of Denali for
others to wander too close again.
People around Rapid City like to talk about the Black Hills as if
they're tame tourist friendly Woods just somewhere to hike and
camp. Growing up hunting these
mountains with Levi and grandpa taught me different.
The hills are ancient quiet and unpredictable dotted with
Granite Cliffs, and thick stands of Ponderosa Pines that can make
you feel like you've stepped back in time.
Every local knows their spots. You just don't wander after
dark, but Levi, and I knew these Hills or at least we thought we
did. We had spent the early part of
October planning, our elk hunt, the rut in full swing, the Bulls
screaming Across The Ridges. It was tradition for Levi and me
ever since Grandpa taught us how to hunt.
After he passed, it was the best way we knew to remember him to
stay connected. We drove up from Rapid City
laid, after noon, the bed of my truck loaded with gear.
Two rifles ammo, backpacks tents and sleeping bags.
Stopping at a little reservation, gas station,
outside Keystone Levi and I were laughing talking loud about the
trail. We chose him.
Inside an old Lakota man, named Raymond, two feathers overheard
us and stepped closer. You boys going hunting up.
Trails 73. His voice was low cautious.
Yeah, that's the plan leave I answered.
Handing the cashier at 20 Raymond shook, his head slowly
eyes, narrowing slightly studying us as if measuring what
we could handle. Wouldn't recommend it past
Sundown. He said quietly.
Locals call it Halo run animals won't go near it after dark.
You shouldn't either. Leave I glanced at me with a
grin shrugging off the warning with youthful confidence.
We'll keep an eye out. The old man's expression never
changed, just steady caution. It's not your eyes, that'll save
you. We laughed it off as we climb,
back in the truck, Levi joked about it.
But something stuck with me nod, quietly at the edge of my
thoughts. As we drove deeper into the
hills, it was just passed sunset.
By the time we parked at the trailhead, the mountains
darkening quickly casting Long Shadows through the Pines, Leave
I carry the rifles. While I shouldered our gear
Trail 73 snake deeper into Norbeck Wildlife.
Preserve climbing, steadily higher into untouched terrain.
We moved quickly, ignoring the fading daylight.
We heard elk bugling nearby. Close enough to feel the sound
in our chests and excitement overtook caution.
We went further than planned, chasing the call until it faded
abruptly, leaving us alone, in the quickly, darkening Woods.
I think we missed it. Levi whispered staring into the
Shadows. We should set up camp.
We cleared a small area pitched, the tent and built a quick fire.
By the time Darkness swallowed, the last traces of Twilight.
I noticed how unusually quiet everything had become, no
crickets, no birds nothing. It was as if someone had muffled
the forest the silence felt unnatural oppressive.
I settled into my sleeping bag, rifle, propped against my pack
Within Reach, listening to Levi breathing, deep in into sleep.
Something about the Stillness made me uneasy like, waiting for
a sound. You expect, but never comes
around midnight. I jerked away.
Heart pounding. A heavy unmistakable crash.
Echoed through the trees. Jarring me upright.
Leave. I was already sitting up eyes
wide and searching the darkness. What the hell was that?
He whispered harshly. I reached for my rifle, we
listened, but nothing. Followed no footsteps, no
rustling leaves. No branches.
Snapping just a deafening absence of sound.
It made my pulse Quicken a dread settling in my gut that felled
heavier than fear. Another crash.
Sounded closer this time violently shaking branches,
somewhere off to our left. Still, no, accompanying sound,
no footsteps, no animal breathing.
Levi scrambled to the tent flap, shining his flashlight out into
the pitch. Black woods nothing.
Cody, there's nothing there, he muttered disbelief, lacing his
voice, he swung the beam around the bright Circle, Illuminating
Pine trunks, bushes and empty, Darkness With the silence felt
alive thick suffocating. My breath came in short, shallow
bursts. Adrenaline hammering through my
veins, what ever had crashed through the woods.
Seemed impossible unnatural something.
Massive moving with a single audible.
Step my mind flashed to the old man's warning and my stomach
Twisted in regret. We sat away the rest of the
night rifles. Clenched tight eyes straining
against shadows and silence the invisible.
Things circled slowly, branches periodically.
Shuttering marking its unseen path.
It never approached never revealed itself.
Clearly, but its presence felt as tangible as my pulse by Dawn,
the woods slowly stirred to life.
Again, Birds tentatively calling from distant trees.
Levi and I barely spoke numbed and exhausted packing our gear
quickly. As daylight returned.
So did our confidence and leave. I tried to rationalize, what?
We'd experienced a mountain lion, maybe or a startled bear.
but I couldn't shake the dread, the feeling we'd stumbled across
something, we weren't meant to understand, I glanced back down
Trail 73, as we walked away. Sunlight streaming between trees
chasing away Shadows. That had terrified Us hours
early earlier. I hoped we'd seen the worst of
it. We hadn't mourning, sunlight
brought temporary relief, filtering, gently through the
high Pines and casting golden patches across the forest floor.
The light made the terror of the night before seemed distant
almost unreal. Leave.
I busy to himself packing Gear with a force to calmness but I
caught him glancing. Back toward the silent Trail
more than once. Neither of us had slept and
exhaustion weighed heavily on our movements.
We should get out of here leave. I finally muttered tightening
the straps of his pack. I've hunted here my whole life.
Cody. Never experienced anything like
that. I swallowed hard nodding and
reluctant to agreement. Part of me.
Wanted desperately to dismiss it as a trick of fatigue and
nerves, but my gut Twisted at the memory of the crushing
silence and unseen impacts. Still something stubborn a
remnant of Pride or maybe fear of admitting we were shaken
pushed back one more night. I said quietly avoiding his eyes
were already here. Let's just move Camp Higher
Ground, maybe get away from whatever that was Levi stared at
me uncertainty clear on his face but eventually gave a short nod.
All right, he sighed but we keep the rifles loaded this time.
By noon, we reached higher terrain and Overlook near a
rocky outcropping that offered good visibility and felt less
oppressive leave. I visibly relaxed as we set up
the nou camp but unease still nod at my nerves I scan the
surroundings relentlessly catching myself flinching at
every rustle of leaves and snapping Twigs from distant
animals. The normal Woodland.
Sounds reassured me at least partially.
Late in the afternoon, Levi called to me from just beyond a
dense. Thick it.
Cody. Come look at this.
I found him standing over the remains of a bull elk, partially
hidden among low brush. Fresh Blood Stained the ground
ribs cracked open with brutal force.
No. Neat bites from predators just
splintered bones, raw and Jagged.
Levi, bent down, running a finger carefully.
Along the snapped. Rib cage.
What could do this he murmured? No bite marks.
No claws. Looks like something.
Just broke it apart. I glanced around nervously,
studying the ground. No tracks.
Either elk. Don't just explode.
Open Levy. Maybe it was dropped from above,
he said, half-heartedly looking upward his voice betraying,
disbelief in his own Theory. We quickly returned to our camp.
Each lost in our thoughts, conversation, minimal and
strained. as night fell again, tension settled heavily around
us, oppressive and exhausting Levi, stoked.
The fire into a steady Blaze while I sat with my back pressed
against a tree rifle late across my lap.
You think the old man was right? Leave.
I finally asked quietly. His eyes locked on the Fire.
I don't know, I answered reluctant to admit what I felt
deep in my bones, but if anything comes near us tonight
we don't hesitate Darkness Returns swiftly pulling a
familiar unnatural silence along with it.
Birds ceased their distant calls, insects grew quiet.
Even the breeze, vanished leaving only the snap, and pop
of the firewood. Levi shifted uncomfortably eyes
wide and alert rifle. Grip, tightly, we need to stay
awake. He whispered hoarsely, we need
to, he stopped mid-sentence, head tilted, toward the
darkness. Something shifted nearby.
So faint, I questioned if it was real at all my pulse quickened,
I strained to hear, but again, nothing followed no footsteps,
no animalistic panting or huffing, just a vast, empty
Stillness. I'll be right back.
Leave I muttered voice strained. Just need a second.
He stood stepping out of the fires glow toward the Shadows at
the camps. Edge disappearing into the
brush. Second stretched to minutes.
Each heartbeat louder than the last each breath more labored as
my anxiety. Climbed Levi.
I called out. Trying to keep my voice steady
silence. Swallowed my words whole Levy.
No answer Panic Rose sharply in my chest.
And I stumbled toward where he'd vanished rifle in hand,
flashlight sweeping frantically Levy.
I froze just 20 feet from Camp. Levi's, boots sat perfectly
upright side by side as if he'd simply stepped out of them.
No blood, no Disturbed Earth the footprints leading away from
Camp. Stopped abruptly as though, my
brother had been plucked Into Thin Air.
Levi, I screamed into the darkness.
Desperation shredding my voice. I fired a shot into the air.
The sounding against the unnatural quiet.
Echoes rolled briefly, then died out, leaving silence again.
Nothing responded. I scrambled back to the fire
building. At higher.
My hands shaking uncontrollably. The cold dread of isolation
crashed over me. Crushing an absolute.
I did into a tree pulling myself onto a sturdy branch of our camp
eyes, wide rifle, clutched with numb fingers, All night,
something circled me never visible.
Never audible only hinted at by the faintest shift of branches
or placed are occasionally, it stopped just beyond the
firelight. It's unseen presence.
Heavy suffocating hours dragged endlessly until mercifully Dawn
began to paint the sky in muted shades of grey and orange birds
cautiously returned to their songs.
Oblivious to the terror that had stalked these woods and silents.
My muscles ached rigid and trembling eyes.
Burning from sleeplessness and fear.
When daylight finally spilled fully through the trees, I climb
down. Stiffly approaching Levi, empty
boots again. They stood, undisturbed mocking
the reality, I wanted desperately to deny.
I stared at the abandoned boots for a long time.
Dreads settling deep inside my chest.
My brother was gone and something else.
Something unimaginable still remained out there waiting
silently within the trees. I don't remember clearly how
long I stood staring at Levis empty boot's.
The forest around me slowly regaining.
Its natural sounds Birds calling leaves rustling.
Gently in a cautious Breeze. Every fiber of my body, screamed
at me to move, but a part of me stayed, frozen half expecting
him to appear from the brush laughing off the sick joke but
he didn't. I radioed desperately over and
over pleading for a response but the device crackled with
meaningless static. Panic clawed at my throat.
I had to get out of there grabbing Levi's boots.
I stuffed them roughly into my pack and started running down
Trail 73. Branches whipped my face,
scratched my hands, but the pain felt distant numb.
My breath came ragged shallow and I fought to suppress the
dizzying waves of fear. Every shadow seemed to reach
toward me. Every shifting branch of Silent,
threat, hours slipped by blurred and chaotic.
My frantic Pace slowed, as exhaustion said, in lungs,
burning legs, trembling from exertion, when the sun started
sinking below, the Horizon again, dreads seized me.
The thought of another night alone, with whatever had taken,
leave. I was unbearable.
I stumbled onward desperate. Barely registering direction or
terrain guided only by instinct. Shadows thickened and once again
silence in me, like a heavy curtain.
My flash light beam quivered wildly.
As I swung at side to side, desperate to see anything ahead.
I no longer trusted. The forest sounds.
They lied mimicked. Familiarity to conceal something
monstrous, then I heard it. Levi voice faint, but
unmistakably his drifting softly through the darkness behind me.
Cody. My chest tightened painfully.
I turned sharply rifle shaking in my hands, Levi, I whispered
voice brittle nearly broken silence.
Then again, further back along the trail I'd come from his
voice drifted, softer, pleading. Cody help.
Leave. I my shout cracked with
desperation. Echoing uselessly through the
trees. I took a hesitant step backward,
toward the sound, but stopped abruptly heart hammering.
My brother's voice sounded off, Hollow empty of true emotion,
just a flat, mimicry that sent chills down my spine.
The realization twisted my stomach and revulsion and my
mind flashed vividly to the Elder's warning.
It's not your eyes, that'll save you.
The thing out there wasn't Levi, it had never been Levy.
The crashing impacts returned heavy branches shuddering
violently invisible footsteps racing toward me with impossible
speed but still no sound of footfalls.
Just force Relentless and impossible.
Iran blind panic, overtaking meat pounding, the Earth as
branches. Clawed, my face and tore up my
clothes, the rifle snagged and tugged, painfully at my shoulder
strap. But I barely noticed adrenaline
surged wildly, as I burst from Trail 73, onto the familiar,
dirt of an old Ranger Road. Recognizing faint lights,
flickering far ahead. The ranger station desperation
pushed me harder lung screaming for air.
Whatever chased me remains silent, but was gaining rapidly.
A presence felt more than heard I glanced back and saw nothing
but a pressure loomed, real tangible and Dreadful.
The ranger station appeared suddenly fade and faint
Moonlight Windows dark and empty reaching it.
I slammed into the front door rattling, the handle violently
locked, a fresh wave of panic Rose as the silent invisible
force, moved closer, brushed. Snapping sharply at the forest,
edge behind me without thinking I scrambled around the side
grabbing at gutter pipes fingers, scraping raw.
As I pulled myself desperately upward onto the sloping roof
Fairly able to breathe. I crawled toward the highest
point turning awkwardly and raising my rifle.
I pointed shakily into the darkness.
My finger trembling against the trigger.
Nothing moved. Nothing stirred yet.
It was out there. I shouted incoherently into the
night firing wildly into the trees until the rifle jammed the
bolt clogged by pine needles and dirt.
My hands, shook violently cold and numb trapped and weaponless.
I curled tightly against the shingles eyes wide staring into
the darkness as dread swallowed me whole hours passed.
Time lost meaning replaced only by Panic and exhaustion.
And yet I refused to move from the roof.
Even as Dawn's gray light, washed gently over the
landscape. I remained Frozen unable to
trust the silence that had deceived me before.
I barely registered the sound of a truck approaching Wheels
crunching, Softly on gravel, the slamming of a door voices,
calling my name. Then someone spotted me Ranger
Jenna Michaels whose eyes widened in disbelief and
concerned. Cody, my God, what happened?
I couldn't answer my tongue thick useless.
Jenna carefully, coaxed me down her hands gentle but firm, as
she guided me toward her vehicle, she spoke soothingly
yet. I barely comprehended.
Her words, everything blurred around me, Fading Into
disjointed sensations of motion and voices.
In the sterile quiet of a hospital room hours later.
I finally managed a few words. Nurses and doctors hovered
nearby watching cautiously as I struggled to articulate what had
happened. Levi, disappearance the
unnatural silence, the mimicry of his voice.
My fragmented explanations met, uneasy glances and Whispers.
Later when the search teams returned, they brought back,
Levi, shredded, gear, and a strange bundle, of course, gray
black. Fur found inexplicably high in
the trees. The official explanation animal
predation felt Hollow empty, just words meant to comfort,
those who didn't know better. Weaks passed.
Eventually the authorities quietly closed, the
investigation, offering meaningless, condolences, and
promises that meant nothing to me.
I left South Dakota soon after moving far from The Familiar
woods but distance couldn't erase the silence.
The hollow echo of Levi stolen Voice or the invisible threats
still lurking there waiting in the Black Hills.
I've been backpacking before. Plenty of times enough to know
the difference between adventure and outright stupidity.
But when Jake pulled out those faded maps of the trails south
of Clingmans Dome, I should have known.
We were drifting into the latter category.
He insisted it would be better this way.
Notorious no screaming kids at the summit.
Just the four of us in the untouched parts of the Smokies.
Marcus loved the idea immediately he always thrived
off trouble while Aaron are groups unofficial voice of
reason. Only were reluctantly nodded me.
I just didn't want to argue the plan was simple enough.
We'd leave the popular Lookout area and drop below the tree
line into Gregory's Halo a shadowed Valley.
Tangled in dense, wrote a dendron in ancient hemlocks Jake
had a confident Swagger about him acting like he knew exactly
what he was doing, even though he'd only been here once as a
kid. Come on, Sam.
He'd said to me with a wide grin, it'll be Unforgettable.
He was right, but for reasons, we couldn't possibly imagine. we
left the crowds and selfie sticks behind and within an
hour, the trail narrowed twisting sharply downward Fog
seeped between the trees making the forest floor slippery and
uncertain as the light dimmed. In the canopy thickened, my
anxiety sharpened, my uncle used to tell me stories about this
part of the mountains about things.
He called Old Spirits creatures. That kept his Shadows watching
from behind trees, waiting for someone foolish enough to stray
off Trail Jake, would laugh. If I mentioned it, Markus, would
mock me endlessly and Aaron would dismiss it as
Superstition. So, I kept quiet.
By late afternoon, we reached a clearing near a creek bed that
Jake declared perfect for camping.
Aaron began on packing, her gear, methodically quietly
efficient as always. Markus and Jake got the fire
going their laughter. Echoing through the hollow.
I stayed near the edge glancing frequently over my shoulder into
the deepening. Gloom We ate dinner quickly hung
the bear bag. High between two Tall Pines and
settled around the fire. As Darkness swallowed the valley
The firelight was comforting at first, the snapping logs,
drowning out, the uneasy Silence of the surrounding Woods.
Then from somewhere in the distance, a sound like metal
rattling against metal echoed faintly just once Marcus
frowned. Chains out here, Jake Shrugged.
Just branches, may be Old Logging gear.
Sure Marcus said, but his voice lacked, its usual Cockiness.
Then I noticed something, our bear bag, suspended high above
swayed, gently back and forth as though pushed by an invisible
hand. Aaron stepped away from the fire
to test the wind. She returned shaking her head no
Breeze, she whispered Jake laughed nervously, maybe ghosts
Marcus snorted ghosts don't bother me.
Crazy Mountain Drifters do Aaron shot him.
A look, not funny, but the humor had drained from Jake's eyes.
Replaced by something less certain, we were silent for a
moment listening. Nothing.
Until a sudden heavy, snap of Twigs cracked just beyond the
edge of firelight. The sound was loud, distinct and
unmistakably deliberate. It wasn't the careful rustling
of a deer or raccoon. It sounded heavier intentional.
My pulse quickened, something's out there.
I whispered Jake Shon his flash light into the dark scanning
slowly, a pale flash low to the ground darted between the
distant trunks. Jake jerked his beam toward it,
but the spot was already empty. Probably a fox he muttered.
Foxes aren't white. Marcus said glancing at me, he
tried to sound tough but I could tell he was nervous now.
Jake Shrugged, again feigning nonchalance.
Whatever it is, it's probably more scared of us.
Yeah, right. Marcus said laughing hollowly.
Sure it is I stayed quiet staring at the darkness behind
Jake's shoulder. The thought not at me.
My uncle's stories. Those warnings whispered around
campfires, when I was a kid Tales of a pale crawling thing,
gone to silent until it chose to stand and watch.
If eventually the others drifted to their tents but I lingered by
the dying fire, the chill of the knights seeping into my bones.
My head snapped up at every tiny sound, every rustle of leaves
every faint snap. And then unmistakably clear in
the moonless night. I heard the slow drag of
something heavy sliding through the underbrush like a limp body
pulled across deadly leaves. I waited Frozen in place, my
breath shallow. Nothing moved in the dark.
I scrambled into my tents, zipping, it tightly heart
pounding. Before I close my eyes, Jake
called from his tent voice muffled and strained.
Hey, Sam, if we get eaten tonight, make sure you tell my
mom. I went down Brave.
He laughed weak and brittle. I didn't respond sleep
eventually. Overtook me, fitful and
Restless. But not long after just before
the pale Dawn began to filter through the trees.
I woke sharply to the sound of the tent zipper nearby.
Marcus stepping out into the darkness muttering.
Something about needing to pee. I laced still waiting for him to
return my ears straining against the silence.
He didn't come back. The first sign of trouble came
when Aaron shook my tent, jolting me awake.
Her voice was strained, urgent. Sam Marcus is in here.
I sat up disoriented Dawn had barely broken through the fog,
heavy trees and a chill clunk stubbornly to the air.
Marcus was Reckless sure, but he wasn't stupid enough to wander
far in these conditions I crawled out of my tent.
Rubbing my eyes. Aaron stood, a few yards away,
arms crossed tightly eyes, narrowed as she.
The woods Jake was already pacing near Marcus's tent.
Irritation evident in his sharp movements He probably just
wandered off to mess with us, Jake snapped, mostly to himself,
but his tone betrayed, his worry.
He took his boots and headlamp though.
We called Marcus's name repeatedly, but the Halo
absorbed our voices, leaving only unsettling silence.
After nearly an hour of searching combing nearby brush
and shouting until our throats went raw, Jake froze.
He stared Upward at the rough bark of an old hemlock.
Guys, he said softly voice. Barely audible come here, my
stomach Twisted as Aaron, and I approached Marcus is knife.
His favorite blade unmistakable by the bright orange handle was
stabbed into the tree, at least eight feet up above.
It was a dark smear drying fast. Blood Jake, looked pale.
He struggled to maintain control fists clenched.
Aaron quickly grabbed her emergency, Beacon, fumbling for
the switch. After a few tents seconds, she
stared blankly at the display. There's no signal.
She whispered not even static. The oppressive fog thickened
around us blurring, trees into indistinct silhouettes.
My mind raced back to last night to the pale shape darting
between, trunks to the dragging sound across dry leaves.
My throat went dry as I tried. Not to connect these dots.
We packed quickly anxiety, gnawing at every breath.
Moving as fast as the uneven terrain allowed.
Aaron took the lead Jake covered behind her silently.
His face drawn, intense. My gaze darted constantly to the
edges of the path, half expecting something pale and
Silent to appear Jake suddenly stopped raising a hand sharply.
We halted pulses racing Did you hear that?
His voice was low. Barely above a whisper.
I strained to listen. Silence stretched on
comfortably, then a distant, slow dragging sound, echoed
through the trees. It was the same noise from the
previous night. A heavy soft scrape of something
moving slowly across Dead Leaves.
Jake's eyes wide and slightly and Aaron took a cautious step
backward. Almost bumping into me then Jake
swung his flash light into the dense fog.
A shape emerged briefly white skin stretched tight over bones
crouched him, possibly low. The face was misshapen the mouth
wide flat nosed eyes deep and shadowed my heart froze.
Before we could fully register, what we'd seen the figure darted
sideways Vanishing with unsettling speed into the trees.
What was that? Aaron gasped, gripping my arm
tightly. I don't know.
Jake answered voice. Shaking a Drifter.
Maybe someone crazy. No, I whispered unable to keep
the dread from my voice. That's not a driftor.
They both looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
I was too afraid to give I thought of my uncle's hushed
warning. I shook my head instead
silently, pleading to move on, we didn't stop again, until
evening, finding a rocky ledge, sheltered by dense brush to
camp. No one spoke.
As we set up our tents quickly and mechanically the air felt
thicker colder pressing down relentlessly.
Markus is empty tent, haunted me, every sound from the forest
Beyond made me jump. Jake refused to sit.
Pacing eyes locked on the fading daylight.
Night, fell mercilessly fast, wrapping around our camp in a
tight suffocating blanket. Aaron whispered softly to Jake,
trying to calm him down but he waved her off.
We just have to make it through tonight.
He muttered to himself when I finally crawled into my tent
exhaustion overtaking dread sleep.
Still eluded me every Creak in Russell made my pulse Quicken,
then I heard it clearly a quiet. Deliberate crunch of leaves
right at the edge of camp. It wasn't cautious, it moved
slowly confidently. Jake.
I hissed through clenched teeth. It's here silence, then Aaron's
voice panicked. Oh my God.
Sam don't move in the faint. Moonlight Bleeding Through the
fabric. A shadow passed slowly across my
tent wall, impossibly low to the ground limbs elongated joints
bent at unnatural angles. I held my breath muscles locked.
Then fingers, press softly against my tent long and thin
tracing slowly along the fabric, a scream shattered, the quiet
Jake's voice ragged terrified, I ripped open my tents stumbling
out heart hammering, Jake's tent, lay ripped open, shredded
nylon flapping, softly Aaron Nelson, nearby wide-eyed and
shaking Jake lay curled, tightly inside alive, but trembling
uncontrollably blood streaking his arms.
It touched me. He whispered hoarsely eyes fixed
on something. Behind me.
I spun around quickly, but saw only Darkness.
And Marcus's shirt wrapped neatly around a broken, deer
antler driven firmly into the ground near the dead fire.
Jake wouldn't speak after we found him in his shredded tent,
curled and shaking, his eyes, stayed wide, staring into the
fog searching, the darkness behind every tree, Aaron wrapped
his arm, tightly with gauze, her hands trembling as she worked.
I Stood Beside them. Glancing nervously at the
shredded fabric of Jake's 10th. Each tier was precise
methodical. Something had ripped through it,
quietly. Deliberately without hesitation
Dawn seemed reluctant to break through the dense fog, keeping
our small miserable clearing cloaked in pale Twilight.
We had no words left, just Instinct driving us forward.
I moved mechanically barely noticing the pain from my
blistered feet. Jake walked silently his
movements stiff. Occasionally glancing fearfully
behind him. Aaron tried her radio again and
again desperation growing each time she was met by Static every
step was labored the fog pressed closer disorienting us masking
the trail beneath thick moss and leaves Aaron paused,
periodically marking trees. With swift deep cuts from her
knife. She was methodical determined to
keep us on a straight path. But as we climbed higher
exhaustion, and Dread pulled at us each inclined.
What little strength, we had left.
Jake stopped abruptly eyes, fixed on a wide oak.
Just ahead, Aaron froze beside him.
Her hands shook, as she raised the flash light, Illuminating
three, distinct, slashes carved into the bark, clean and
precise. My stomach dropped recognition
twisting sharply Within Me. We'd passed this tree before.
Less than half an hour ago. Aaron had marked at herself were
going in circles. Jake muttered weekly his voice
thin barely audible. He pressed his palms to his
temples shaking his head. We can't get out of here.
It won't let us. Leave his words tightened my
throat. We have to keep moving Aaron.
Urged softly, her tone brittle but controlled she reached out,
gently grabbing Jake's shoulder. Were almost there.
We have to be I didn't believe her none of us did but we moved
anyway. Driven by sheer desperation.
My uncles warnings echoed in my ears louder with each dragging.
Step it walks like a man Sam. But it isn't it lures you off
the trail and never lets go by Nightfall we'd reached another
clearing. Barely distinguishable in the
Gloom Jake refused to set up his tent.
Instead huddling near Aaron beneath a rocky outcropping.
I sat alone back pressed against a fallen log eyes, darting
nervously at each sound that punctuated.
The heavy silence. Hours dragged past measured only
by The Fading battery on Aaron's watch.
My body felt heavy numb exhaustion competing with the
sharp edges of fear. Just as I felt myself slipping
into a Restless half-sleep by her to sound subtle.
Close a slow, careful crawling through leaves Jake shifted
suddenly eyes wide and panic hand, gripping, Aaron's arm
tightly. I froze, heart hammering
painfully against my ribs, then I saw it clearly a shadow
moving, just beyond the thin veil of fog low and steady.
It crept forward. Silently outlined blurred
joints, shifting unnaturally. Don't move Aaron, breathed.
Almost inaudibly her voice breaking with effort but Jake
bolted. Upright, eyes wild.
No, get away from me. He screamed staggering backward.
I lunged toward him but he was already stumbling toward the
fog. He tripped over Roots crashing,
through, underbrush blindly Jake.
Stop Aaron shouted. Desperately chasing after him.
I followed closely behind breath ragged.
Suddenly Jake halted standing. Ridgid staring into the darkness
ahead. Aaron stopped beside him,
gripping his arm tightly. My flash light beam, landed on
something, standing just beyond a tall gaunt figure, skin pale
as bone. It May 8th at ribs sharp beneath
translucent flesh. Antlers Rose grotesquely from
its skull uneven and splintered. It watched a silently head,
tilted. Slightly face expressionless run
Jake, whispered Horsley voice strained with Terror.
We sprinted driven by blind Instinct crashing through
branches and brush, stumbling desperately toward Higher
Ground. Jake fell repeatedly but
scrambled up each time Panic, fueling him I could hear the
soft rapid footsteps behind us. Moving effortlessly, gaining
grounds. Steadily my lungs burned Vision
blurred by tears and sweat. Aaron Cried Out, sharply ahead,
then stumbled tumbling to the ground.
I grabbed her pulling her. Upright and glanced behind me,
briefly. The figure moved impossibly
fast, closing the distance silently its pale, skin glowing
faintly in the dark. We ran until daylight finally
broke through the trees suddenly Illuminating a marked Trail
Junction. A weather sign stood before us.
Clingmans Dome Summit. Trail 1.5 miles, Eren gasped
relief and Desperation Tangled together.
She pressed the radio once more voice shaking please.
If anyone hears this help us, we need help now, A faint crackle.
That a voice responded. Clearly, we hear you.
Stay put The weight felt endless each second to test of our
sanity. Jake sat slumped eyes glazed
staring blankly at the trail behind us.
He refused to acknowledge eren's attempts at reassurance.
By the time, the park rangers appeared, hurrying along the
trail toward us, I could barely stand What happened out here.
One Ranger asked cautiously eyes.
Scanning our torn, clothing, and frightened expressions.
Three of us, didn't make it Aaron said quietly, her voice
drained. Marcus Sam.
They're gone. The ranger paused confused, Sam.
He asked gently glancing at me. She blinked catching herself.
Marcus, She corrected quietly. Marcus didn't make it, he is
gone. Something took him.
Was it a bear? A cougar, the ranger pressed.
Gently know, Jake whispered sharply the first words he'd
spoken clearly since Dawn no animal did that.
Aaron shook her head, slowly eyes Hollow, we just want to
leave. Please.
They guided us out. Moving swiftly glancing.
Periodically into the forest behind us as if expecting
something to follow. I didn't look back.
I couldn't. Three months later.
The local news ran a story buried, deep beneath headlines.
A drone used for routine. Trail inspection had captured
strange footage in Gregory's Halo.
Something pale, an emaciated limbs unnaturally elongated
head. Crowned with antlers, moving
with alarming speed first. Upright, then dropping fluidly
onto all fours. Vanishing beneath the tree
canopy before the camera could track it further, Park officials
declined to comment. I've spent eight seasons as a
wildland firefighter and in all that time, I've learned that
every stretch of wilderness holds secrets Some benign, some
dangerous, some best left, buried beneath layers, of Ash
and memory. But the San Juan National Forest
felt different, right? From the start.
It was as if the land itself didn't want us there.
We landed deep in the Hermosa Creek Wilderness on a crisp
September morning. The Aspens glowed like veins of
gold threading through Evergreen hillside's breathtaking, from
the helicopter window. Our mission was straightforward.
Prepare the back country for a large-scale prescribed burn 8
days of hard work, clearing Deadfall creating firebreaks and
flagging safe zones. My crew was reliable.
Nico young and easygoing joked constantly his chainsaw buzzing
confidently, through thick Timber.
Joe was reserved but efficient marking GPS waypoints with
meticulous accuracy. Bryce.
The new recruit fresh from Arizona seemed eager.
If slightly nervous read from the Navajo.
Nation was our quiet backbone. He'd seen things understood
things. And usually, when to speak, and
when silence was best We set up camp near a quiet stream,
surrounded by a dense cluster of Lodgepole Pine and Aspen Groves.
The first days work passed smoothly.
The rhythm of axes and saws echoed through the valley as we
cleared under brush and dead limbs. by evening, we had a tidy
fire line, stretching several hundred yards things were going
according to plan routine predictable.
The next morning as Joe and Nico moved further out to flag in
eastern perimeter Nico radioed back.
Sounding uneasy Calder, there's something weird out here.
Define weird. I said into my handset wiping
sweat from my forehead and adjusting my helmet.
Come and see. Curiosity and Mild irritation.
Led me deeper into the woods. I arrived to find Joe and Nico
standing beside a circle of black and Earth. the ground was
scored the surrounding trees, stripped of leaves and barked
but strangely undamaged Beyond this circular patch, it was as
if fire had erupted spontaneously in a perfect ring
and vanished, without spreading lightning strike, I asked
kneeling to inspect the ash Joe shook her head.
Frowning deeply. No.
Signs of lightning. Nothing overhead burned either.
It's too precise. That's not all Nico, said,
gesturing toward the center look closer.
I moved cautiously inward pushing aside a layer of gray
Ash with my boot. Beneath it lay the edge of a
stone, wall old crude and clearly man-made.
We cleared more debris uncovering, a circular structure
partially sunken in ancient inside were animal bones,
meticulously arranged into a spiral pattern whether antlers
jutting upward like sharpened stakes and black charcoal,
symbols smeared across the inner stones.
At the hearts at a large flat slab, charred black, drips of
hardened, resin or sap fused to its surface.
Red approach slowly behind me silent until now we shouldn't be
here he murmured voice taught and careful.
This is an hours. What is this Bryce whispered
staring wide-eyed red didn't answer, just stepped backward,
distancing himself from the structure.
I glanced around noting the apprehension in their faces but
we had a job to do. So I buried my own unease
beneath a facade of calm professionalism Market on GPS.
I said firmly will report it to base and move on.
Joe took quick coordinates, her fingers, tapping nervously at
the screen. We return to Camp as daylight
faded. Tension clung to the crew as
thickly as the smoke. We usually fought and dinner
passed an uncomfortable silence later that night after most of
the others had retired to their tents.
I sat away turning my radio, handset absently in my hand,
feeling strangely alert. The forest usually soothed me.
But tonight at its Stillness was unsettling.
That's when I heard it. The gentle popping sound
familiar. Like pine cones bursting.
Open from Heat. But we hadn't lit.
Any fires yet. I stood slowly shining my
flashlight toward the darkness between the trees.
Nothing but dense. Shadow.
I exhaled feeling foolish. A Whisper Of Motion behind me.
Made me turn sharply. Joe stood at the edge of Camp
staring, wide-eyed toward the deeper, Forest flashlight,
trembling slightly in her grip. Joe, I called softly approaching
her side. You saw it, too.
She asked quietly saw what she hesitated.
Clearly embarrassed, firelight flickering through the trees.
I thought I thought it was a flare up, but when I went
closer, it just vanished. I showed my flash light deeper
into the darkness. Nothing but shadows in the quiet
rustle of leaves. Probably your eyes playing
tricks. I said though, the words felt
Hollow even as I spoke them She nodded slowly unconvinced as she
returned to her tent. I lingered scanning the forest.
Feeling inexplicably, 10th something fell off, balance
misplaced. When I finally lay down, sleep,
alluded me replaced, instead by an uneasy vigilantes.
I listened carefully ears tuned to the smallest noises, the
faint rustling of wildlife, the distant crack of branches.
Then in the silence Just Before Dawn, I heard something else far
off indistinct. A human sound, a muffled scream,
thin and stretched as if carried by wind from someplace distant
yet. Alarmingly close.
I bolted upright pulse hammering.
But as quickly as it came, the sound vanished replaced.
Once More by silence. I lay awake until dawn
wondering, just what we'd uncovered and what else might be
waiting in these Woods? The morning, sun did little to
dispel the heaviness settled over our camp.
Everyone moved sluggishly and conversation was sparse.
Even Nico's. Usual humor felt forced his
laughter brittle and short lived.
As I sipped lukewarm coffee from a metal mug, I tried to
rationalize the strange occurrences of the night.
Forests played tricks on tired Minds.
I knew that but still the unease, lingard, red Crouch near
the edge of camping, the tree line thoughtfully.
He glanced at me his dark eyes troubled.
Finally, he spoke quietly enough that only I heard my grandfather
told stories about places like that.
He said, tilting his chin toward the woods he called them burn
circles places touched by things, we shouldn't disturb, I
raised an eyebrow skeptically folklore, he shook his head
warning, I wanted to dismiss it to brush, it aside as
Superstition, but a part of me, hesitated, I had spent years
trusting my instincts to survive, dangerous to rain, and
sudden wildfires, Right now, every instinct told me we'd
wandered into something beyond our understanding.
Mid-morning brought another unsettling, discovery.
Nico returned from inspecting. Our gear cache, visitly agitated
Called her. You need to see this.
He said, grimly his hands shaking slightly.
I followed him. Joe close behind.
Our packs and tools were neatly stacked beneath a tarp untouched
except for Nico's gear. His backpack was coated in soot
the fabric charred around the edges as though held briefly
over an open flame but nothing else showed signs of fire not
the tarp above nor the Pax beside it.
How the hell did this happen? Nico.
Muttered turning his damaged pack over and disbelief?
I glanced around scanning the canopy and ground.
No, Scorch marks, no Embers. Nothing.
It was inexplicable. We need to report this Joe
insisted a hint of panic creeping into her voice.
Report, what I countered more sharply than I intended?
Random soot. Joe's expression.
Hardened clearly unsatisfied. I softened my tone.
Look will call it in when we get the chance.
Right now. Let's finish our grid sweep, and
mark the structure clearly. I want clear coordinates ready
when the chopper returns. Joe nodded slowly Bryce and I
will flag the site again. Maybe we missed something
yesterday. I agreed reluctantly watching
them vanish into the trees. The air felt colder as the day
progressed, an unnatural chill. Seeping beneath my jacket.
I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on my back though.
Each glance over my shoulder revealed.
Nothing hours later, Bryce, and Joe stumbled back into camp.
Bryce looked pale, his face drained of color, he sat
silently by the campfire, pit staring blankly at the ashes,
shoulders hunched. What happened out there?
I asked Joe quietly away from the others.
She hesitated. Avoiding my gaze.
I don't know Bryce. Just shut down, he won't talk.
Red approached Bryce carefully kneeling beside him.
You alright man. Bryce didn't answer, just
scratched absently at his forearms, his fingers left thin
red marks across his skin. It's hot, he muttered.
Distantly why is it so hot red glanced back at me with.
Clear worry, it wasn't hot. If anything the temperature had
continued to drop steadily, all after noon, Bryce looked
feverish haunted. That night sleep eluded
everyone, the tension was palpable a collective
expectation of something yet. Undefined After midnight, I
drifted briefly into uneasy dreams before the sound of
rustling outside. Jolted me awake through the thin
tent fabric, I saw orange flickers of light dancing along
the trees. I scrambled upright pulse
thudding in my ears. Adrenaline Sharp.
This was no illusion, no trick of the Mind, the light was clear
firelight shifting silently through the trees, casting Eerie
patterns against canvas walls, Neko shouted suddenly from his
tent called her. Do you see that?
I burst outside met by Nico and read their faces illuminated by
brief flashes. The orange glow.
Moved silently among the trees. No crackle, no smoke, no heat.
Just the sickly light shifting and fading rhythmic as
breathing. Whereas Bryce, Joe's voice.
Trembled behind us. We spun around dreads settling
heavily, Bryce's tent, flap hung open fluttering, gently in the
breeze. Empty panics surged through me
spread out him. Now we scattered flash light's
piercing the darkness calling Bryce's name in vain minutes
later, Nico's, voice, cut, sharply through the woods over
here. We rushed to him heartbeats loud
in the Stillness. On the ground, lay Bryce's boot
melted and distorted the soul blackened and twisted.
Tracks, half burned Prince extended away into the forest
smoldering faintly in the dirt. The footprints were too precise
to deliberate each imprint blistered into the Earth, as if
the wearer had walked through fresh flame, Joe stared down
her, breathe, shallow, and rapid.
Those weren't here earlier, we walked this path today.
Red stepped closer shining his flashlight onto the Eerie Trail.
This isn't right. He murmured softly, we shouldn't
follow. Like hell, we shouldn't I
snapped Bryce is out there. Red looked at me.
Sadly resignation heavy and his eyes Bryce is an out there
anymore. A cold silence enveloped us
behind the line of trees, faintly illuminated, again, the
Shadows stirred as the unsettling orange light, briefly
returned it pulsed, fading, as quickly as it appeared, I
grabbed the satellite Beacon fingers shaking as I activate
it. The device flickered weekly, the
screen dimming abruptly refusing to transmit.
I shook it, angrily Panic Rising, but it only drained
further shutting down. Completely in my hand, we stood
motionless trapped between shadows and inexplicable flames.
Something ancient something dangerous.
Had awakened in the woods around us.
And now one of us was already lost.
Dawn came slow and bleak a gray wash Bleeding Through.
The thinning leaves above Bryce's disappearance had
drained. What little morale.
We had left. None of us.
Spoke each locked in our own silent.
Dread trying to rationalize the impossible.
I'd seen fires swallow entire Hillside storms of flame leaping
from tree to tree. But never had, I witnessed fire
moves silently without warmth or Reason, taking someone and
leaving behind only burned, boot prints.
The last image of Bryce haunted, me confused feverish, lost
somewhere, inside himself. We need to get out of here.
Joe said, finally voice Halo Red sat silently by the fire pit
eyes distant, Nico paste. Anxiously glancing at me.
As if expecting answers, I couldn't provide.
I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself, agreed, I said
quietly. Grab Essentials, only will move
South toward the old Trailhead. If the radio won't reach, maybe
we'll catch a sell signal higher up as we quickly gather gear.
Red approached me privately his voice.
Barely Audible That place we found wasn't abandoned
something, still uses it. What's something I demanded
frustration breaking through. He shook his head slowly, not
people not anymore. We set off moving cautiously
along the Narrow Path. Trees loomed over us, oppressive
and Silent, the sunlight strangely muted.
A sickening anxiety nod at my chest.
As we passed through Shadows, each step, echoing too loudly.
In my ears, the air felt brittle and wrong as if oxygen itself
were thinning about an hour later, we broke through thick
brush into another clearing. Nico froze, mid-step breath,
hitching sharply. My stomach clenched.
A second Stone Circle. Lay ahead smaller yet,
unmistakably similar to the first.
Ashes and Embers glowed. Softly as though a fire had just
been extinguished Nico knelt cautiously reaching out toward
the Stone's pulling his hand back quickly.
It's hot. He whispered his eyes wide with
disbelief this thing. Still warm my pulse hammered
we'd moved miles from Camp. The realization sank, heavily
the fire, or whatever moved with it.
Had been here recently, perhaps moments before us, a sudden
snapping of Twigs echoed from behind Joe, spun sharply toward
the noise Bryce, she called out hopefully voice shaking Silence
answered red glanced, nervously, around breathing rapidly, we
shouldn't linger here, another sound, rustled closer now
deliberate Joe's flashlight pierced, the Gloom darting
wildly through shadowed trunks, I saw something move, she
whispered, Panic, edged, her voice red, stepped, forward
carefully, placing himself, between Joe in the woods.
Stay close. He said urgently scanning the
darkness around us, then read cried out, a sound of pain,
sharp and raw. He stumbled back toward us
clutching his arms gasping in shock long dark Burns traced up
his forearms Angry Red Lines etched into his skin as if
something searing had grazed him It moved through me, he choked
eyes, wild with disbelief, it burned through me I lunged
toward him catching him. As his knees buckled red
trembled violently his breathing shallow and labored Joe
crouched. Next to us eyes wide.
With horror then silently in swiftly the woods erupted in
bursts of orange Flames bright yet utterly soundless. no smoke,
no heat, just cold pulses of fiery light Illuminating
shadowed trunks Flashes of bodies danced in the brief
illumination. Ash covered figures standing.
Still among the trees disappearing.
Each time I blinked Nico. Staggered backward
terror-stricken He pointed shakily at the Flames,
encircling Us closing tighter with each Flickr.
Trapping us. He breathed voiced.
Barely Audible. A flame ignited suddenly along
Nico's sleeve, his shrieks pierced the unnatural silence
echoing harshly against the trees.
I dove toward him, desperately beating at his jacket but the
Flames wouldn't extinguish instead they spread rapidly
blistering his skin leaving raw patches of flesh.
Beneath blackening fabric He collapsed screaming eyes wide
with Agony, Joe grabbed, my arm, dragging me away her voice,
frantic we have to run, I stumbled after her the world.
Spinning wildly, heart pounding violently Reds, limp form, lay
motionless behind us, Nico was gone consumed by impossible fire
Joe and I crashed blindly through brush and Fallen
branches, every breath ragged and desperate my flashlight beam
sliced. A radically ahead.
Guiding us nowhere. Then Joe vanished.
One moment she was their hand gripping, my sleeve and the next
she was ripped violently from sight.
Her scream. Shredded, the silence sharp and
brief before abruptly cutting off.
I staggered forward shouting her name until my throat burned
suddenly I burst through a thick curtain of branches into a
clearing bathed in sickly orange glow, a third Stone Circle,
waited their identical yet fully intact.
At its Center knelt. Joe motionless eyes open and
staring blankly at nothing. I rushed toward her yelling her
name. Desperation overriding all
caution a ring of flames, surged upward around us blinding in its
Brilliance, but cold as ice. I fell to my knees beside her
reaching out. Helplessly Joe's lips.
Moved slightly. Forming silent words.
Her eyes were fixed Beyond me. Empty of recognition.
Then Blackness rushed in sudden and complete, I woke slowly days
later in a hospital bed. My body throbbed painfully skin,
raw beneath bandages, doctors hovered at my bedside speaking
quietly among themselves. A sheriff asked questions, but I
had no answers only fractured memories of impossible fire and
vanished friends. Satellite images.
They told me later had shown strange heat, signatures
appearing and disappearing, rapidly around our location,
bursts of flames. Circling like predators, no
natural fire, behaved that way, no Embers or fuel remained to
explain it. Weeks afterward.
Search teams reported finding our campsite exactly as we'd
left it untouched. But the Stone Circle was
different. Now Fresh bones.
Littered the ground. Antlers.
Newly broken. Scorch marks imprinted clearly
with boot Treads our boots. When investigators asked for
explanations, I had none Only The Haunting certain certainty
that whatever we disturb beneath those.
Ancient ashes. Still burned out there, waiting
silently for someone else to stumble, too close.
I've always felt at home in the cold Solitude carved from Ice
silence, as thick as snowdrifts. I suppose that's why Glacier
National Park called to me the way it did or perhaps it was
just the stubborn desire of an ambitious biologist determined
to track mountain goats through terrain that barely tolerated
humans. Claire Renner.
And I had spent months petitioning, the park service
for special winter access to the remote ridges near Mount
Cleveland, a jagged Peak Infamous for unpredictable
weather When the permit was finally granted, the Rangers had
looked hesitant their warning scripted and their smiles on
easy. Watch your footing, one had
muttered quietly as we packed up our gear.
He seemed to want to say more but settled instead for silence
the hike in had been unforgiving, a cold snap brought
the temperature plunging, well below zero, our snowshoes,
crunched loudly against fresh snow.
As we ascended breath, fogging, and ghostly clouds that blurred
our vision. Claire, forged ahead
confidently. Her auburn hair tucked beneath
her Woolen Hat eyes? Fixed firmly on the icy Horizon.
It was her strength, Focus, determination, unshakable
resolve. Mainly impatience, quiet,
observation and a willingness to wait.
Together, we made a good team after hours battling the slope.
We reach the abandoned. Fire lookout perched on the
North End of Stony Indian Ridge, it loomed Stark and skeletal a
weathered. Sentinel above snow fields that
stretched, endlessly toward the valleys below.
Nearby. We pitched our small wind
resistant tent setting camera traps at strategic points along
faint goat paths weed marked on maps.
The first evening passed intense quiet as Darkness blanketed the
mountain in Shades of Grey. we warmed packets of dehydrated
chili, the steam Rising between us Claire's jokes gradually,
softened the oppressive weight of the isolation, as the wind
picked up sending small, flurries gutting around the
tent, we settled into the familiar routine of sorting
gear, and taking inventory. A sound snapped us both alert
abrupt and distinct in the silence.
A steady deliberate crunch in the snow beyond our tent.
Claire's eyes flick to mind wide, but calm Goat.
She whispered her voice tight. Maybe I said slowly not entirely
believing it. I knew the Cadence of a mountain
goats stride. This was heavier measured
precise. After a minute, it stopped
abruptly. We unzip the tent.
Slowly headlamps, casting, weak beams into a swirling curtain of
snowflakes. I swept the area with light
revealing only Fresh Prince long, deep Impressions with
elongated strangely articulated toes.
What the hell makes tracks like that Claire muttered?
Bear may be. I said on certainly to examine
them closer but my gut disagreed, no claw marks.
Just strangely jointed Prince spaced widely apart.
As though something massive had casually strolled past we
retreated to the tenth sealing ourselves back into fragile
warmth. Throughout the night, neither of
us, slept deeply. Claire thrashed, occasionally,
waking me each time, her breath quickened with dreams.
She wouldn't recall clearly the next morning at dawn.
The brittle silence returned, Chris, and still We found our
trail cameras triggered but offering no clear.
Images only blank frames and bursts of static.
Claire tried to joke but her tone was uneasy technical
glitch. I guess temperatures messing
with the electronics. Probably I agreed without
conviction. We pushed deeper into the ridge
to set more traps and find clearer goat tracks.
Midway through the day, my eye caught, something peculiar a
pine Bao snapped, cleanly jammed upright into the snow at a
perfect. 90 degree angle Defying Gravity in nature.
It wasn't an accident. It was intentional.
Claire stared at it puzzled, but masking, worry behind,
professional detachment. when can do weird stuff up here, she
said dismissively, but the words sounded thin Knight came swiftly
again Darkness compressing around our small tent We sat
quietly each absorbed and field notes and cautious thoughts.
Claire drifted first, but sleep, alluded me.
I listened strained alert to every Nuance of the wind each
shift in snowdrifts settling outside.
Something tugged at the fringes of my vision, a shadow tall and
angular standing motionless at the tree line, my heart skipped,
adrenaline spiking through my veins.
I rubbed my eyes convinced exhaustion was deceiving me, but
the silhouette remained stubbornly upright a shape
unmistakably there yet. Impossible to Define clearly
through the haze of falling snow Claire.
I whispered urgently shaking her awake.
She startled. Bleary-eyed, what is it?
Something's out there. I breathed my pulse quickening
but as clear squinted into the Gloom the figure seemed to
dissipate melting back into the indistinct Darkness, as silently
as it appeared. She placed a reassuring hand on
my shoulder trees and shadows Ethan nothing else but neither
of us, truly believed it as we huddled back into uneasy rest.
I stared at the tent ceiling listening.
Intently to the wind, my mind, replaying the strange upright,
Branch the impossibly, human-like tracks, and the
unsettling shape standing watch in the snow.
We'd both spent enough time in Wilderness to trust instinct to
sense when something was profoundly wrong.
And this Ridge, this empty ice scoured.
Spine of land above glaciers, vast expanse.
Felt dangerously wrong. Mourning cracked.
Open, gray and brittle. Sleep had abandoned me
completely leaving behind exhaustion.
That felt like ice settling in my bones beside me.
Claire's breathing was shallow Restless.
Neither of us spoke much as we geared up, we stepped outside
into a world. Transformed heavy snowfall
overnight, had erased, our Footprints turning the
landscape, into an unbroken expanse of Stark, Frozen
silence. Claire's brow furrowed.
As we inspected the perimeter of our ruined camp.
The tent, lay shredded, the fabric, torn with deliberate
precision. Not animal claws.
Something else. Our gear was scattered
methodically as those someone had examined, each item
carefully. Food emergency rations, the
stove. All gone.
Whatever did this new exactly what it wanted.
Claire said, softly her voice tight, with suppressed, worry.
My eyes moved to a deeper pattern of Prince circling the
camp clearer. Now in fresh snow Long Toed,
impossibly white apart sunk deep into the powder.
My chest tightened. Human-like Barefoot.
Yet far too, large Claire, knelt brushing ice from her gear.
We need to go Ethan now. I nodded quickly repacking the
few salvageable items my mind scrambling for rational
explanations. But when I glanced Upward at the
High Ridge above dread Twisted in my gut, the figure from last
night. Still haunted, my memory Stark
and motionless. We left Camp.
Swiftly heading south attempting to retrace our path back toward
the parks boundary, but heavy snowfall distorted.
Every Landmark blurring my mental map.
After hours, slogging through waist deep snow, a rocky
outcrop, loomed ahead, Stark against the white expanse.
As we approached Claire, suddenly halted her face.
Pale eyes. Fixed on the slope of There was
someone up there she whispered squinting through the glare I
followed her gaze Upward at first.
I saw nothing but Shadow and stone.
Then a fleeting motion, a silhouette shifting briefly
behind a rock tall. Unmistakably upright.
Crowned by a bizarre tangle of antlers my pulse surged
violently. Did you see it Claire's voice
shook? Yeah, I said weakly my voice
barely audible even to myself. The figure vanished, swiftly
behind the outcrop, Claire looked at me eyes wide but
decisive we have to keep moving. By late afternoon, a bitter wind
rose again, shrieking around us. cold seeped, deeper numbing
fingers and toes until movement itself felt labored When we
finally paused for rest beneath a small cluster of wind blasted
Pines Claire's hands shook violently her boots worn thin.
From constant moisture were soaked through Your freezing I
said, kneeling beside her worried at how pale she'd become
her eyes were distant unfocused. Hypothermia was a dangerous
possibility. Now, I'm fine, she muttered
stubbornly, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her, as
evening descended swiftly, Shadows bled Into Darkness.
We found a small Hollow near the trees and made a makeshift
shelter from Fallen branches and piled snow.
Exhausted Claire slipped into uneasy sleep.
I remained awake ears alert to every Whisper of wind, every
Creak and groan of snow and ice. Sometime after midnight Clare
stirred beside me. I need to step out.
She whispered hoarsely. Be quick, I warn softly anxiety,
nodding my stomach as she disappeared into the swirling,
Darkness beyond the shelter. Minutes passed dragging heavily
into uneasy silence. Claire hadn't returned unease,
Twisted into panic. I called out softly, Claire.
My voice carried feebly, into the night, swallowed by wind and
snow. No answer.
I serged upright. Heart hammering following her
faint Footprints, illuminated dimly by my headlamp.
They let away from the shelter toward a large snow-covered
Boulder jutting from The Frozen Ground there.
The footprint, stopped abruptly. No signs of struggle, no.
Screams just emptiness. My breath rasped sharply clouds
of panic, fogging. My vision, then something caught
my eye half buried in fresh snow.
A small sharp fragment My fingers brushed Frost away
revealing a broken antler tip, my throat tightened.
I glanced desperately around calling louder frantic now only
silence answered cold, sharp, fear Twisted deeper my knees
buckled slightly as the wind rushed through the hollow with
icy cruelty alone. Abandoned I stood shaking
violently as the realization slowly pierced through numb
disbelief. Claire was gone, the cold had
seeped, deep beneath my skin. Infiltrating bones and Marrow
until movement became slow torture.
I stumbled forward panic and adrenaline barely propelling me
onward. Claire's disappearance, replayed
mercilessly in my head, Her Footprints, ending abruptly,
that broken antler fragment haunting my thoughts, like a
silent accusation. My stomach churned Twisted by
dread and something darker guilt.
I turned toward the summit toward the old fire lookout
perched, atop Stony Indian Ridge, the structure loomed
faintly in the distance, a stark silhouette against the pale glow
of distant Stars, my boots sank, heavily into snow, but each step
mechanical driven by desperation, rather than
strength, whatever had taken, Claire still, lurked.
Unseen, in the shadows, waiting watching by the time I reached
the tower. Wind howled furiously.
Scraping Exposed Skin Raw. The wooden stairs creaked
ominously beneath me as I ascended to the narrow Landing.
The lookout was ancient, whether beaten and desolate but it
offered shelter, however, fragile and the slim hope of
radioing for help. I forced The Rusted door open
and stumbled inside quickly, slamming it shut behind me.
Frigate are still seeped through gaps between weathered boards.
Shivering violently. I scanned the tiny room.
A single battered radio rested. Atop A Dusty desk beside faded
park maps, and forgotten log books.
I rushed forward, fumbling with icy fingers, to power it on.
Static hissed sharply loud in the oppressive silence but no
signal broke through. Hours crawled, slowly passed as
Darkness pressed closer exhaustion, tugged at my
Consciousness but fear. Anchored me awake outside faint
rhythmic, footsteps circled the tower crunching deliberately
through the snow My pulse quickened painfully.
It was the same thoughtful tread that had stalked our campsite
nights before. I pressed myself flat against
the cold, wood, and wall breath, held tight.
Listening helplessly then a dole scraping echoed softly through
the boards. Near my head, slow, deliberate
Panic surged. My heart hammering wildly.
I froze desperately trying to keep quiet every nerved taught,
cold air rushed through narrow cracks between planks by biting
sharply at Exposed Skin. Outside silence returned heavy
and expectant unable to stand the tension any longer I moved
cautiously toward the window, forcing myself to peer into the
moonlit Gloom. Snow drifted, gently deceptively
calm. But then, just beyond the edge
of Illumination, something stirred, a tall, gaunt shape,
stood immobile at the tree line, bathed faintly by pale
Moonlight, a set of antlers. Crowned its shadowy silhouette
unmistakable even at a distance. I recoiled, sharply heart
hammering. I blinked rapidly trying to deny
what I had seen. Then slowly horribly a voice
drifted, upward Claire's voice, Finn wavering, distorted by
distance and something unnatural beneath its surface.
It called my name, softly plaintively, echoing eerily,
through the Frozen Darkness. Ethan Ethan, nausea Rose
bitterly in my throat. I clenched my fists shaking
violently that voice. It wasn't clear, couldn't be
clearer yet. The sound Pierce deeply twisting
raw nerves until my mind blurred with panic.
Dizzy desperate. I stumbled back from the window
sliding heavily onto the rough wooden floor.
Cold, seeped relentlessly into my bones numbing thoughts and
senses. Fatigue claimed me blurring
lines between sleep and wakefulness.
Dreams merged cruelly with reality.
Images of Claire's smiling face distorted grotesquely by
Twiztid, antlers eyes wide, and accusing my mind frayed edges
unraveling into madness. I jolted awake at Dawn's weak,
gray, arrival, a faint glow. Filtering through frosted
Windows, voices, echoed From Below, human voices, clear and
Urgent footsteps, climbed the stairs hastily, and suddenly the
door, burst open, revealing Park Rangers and thick winter gear
faces tents with concern and confusion.
My relief shattered, swiftly against their weary stairs.
Their gazes moved downward, and I followed horrified to see my
bare feet pale blue tinted frostbitten My boots sat, neatly
by the door, untouched dry. Exactly where I left them upon
entering the lookout, confusion over WellMed me as they Lifted
Me. Gently upright murmuring
reassurance is, I barely registered.
Claire. I cropped, weekly voice, rasping
from a throat raw with cold, Claire, still out there.
The exchanged brief troubled glances before leading me slowly
downward back into the bitter cold.
Search parties comb the ridge thoroughly methodically but
found nothing. No tracks, no blood, no evidence
of Claire's existence beyond our ruined camp.
Days. Later, lying in a sterile
hospital room far from glaciers. Relentless isolation.
I overheard a hushed conversation between two Rangers
outside my door. His story matches exactly what
happened last year, almost word for word, a moment of tense
silence. Then the response even quieter
tinged with unease. Make sure it's scrubbed from the
records again. Their footsteps faded down the
hall. Leaving me alone Hollow and
trembling beneath thin Hospital blankets.
But there were words, lingard, unmistakable and clear, whatever
had happened to Clare what ever had stalked us through that
Frozen. Wilderness, the truth would
remain buried beneath ice and secrecy locked away forever in
the Silence of the ridge. it was my last chance at least that's
what Mike said when he handed me the keys to the old cabin, I'd
barely survived my last overdose and everyone who still bothered
to talk to me had already said, goodbye in their minds.
Mike though, my oldest friend, figured he owed me.
This one final shot the place, belonged to his grandfather.
A rustic off-grid cabin, tucked deep into Michigan's Huron
Manistee National Forest near a place.
The locals ominously called starved Halo.
It was supposed to be quiet and peaceful a place where I could
get clean without any Temptations.
Mike told me to land had history.
Something vague about an old anishinaabe hunting camp and
dark folklore at the time. It sounded like Superstition at
the time, I didn't care. Mic dropped me off at the
trailhead early on a Monday morning, the sun, still low and
the woods cloaked in a thin veil of missed.
I carried a backpack filled with canned food matches a GPS.
Watch and a satellite phone. Mike stressed that the phone was
for emergency is only no matter what happened.
I had to tough it out until he came back and five days.
The hike to the cabin took about 40 minutes.
My legs shook the whole way withdrawal already gnawing at my
muscles. And fogging my brain, the place
finally came into view as a squat structure, framed by dense
Pine's rustic and uninviting. I unlock the door and stepped
inside greeted by stale air and dust drifting through beams of
pale sunlight. the first night was hell, waves of nausea and
chills racked, my body until dawn Each minute stretched into
eternity. The creaks and Pops of the old
cabin, Twisted into Whispers And Footsteps in my feverish years.
By morning, I was drenched in sweat shivering, curled up on a
bunk bed, like a sick child. Day 2 passed in a similar blur
though. I managed to choke down some
canned soup. My stomach, cramped violently in
protest, but the nourishment steady.
Me slightly. Still my mind, wandered into
dark Corners, fabricating shape, at the edge of vision faces,
peering through the filthy window glass.
I knew better than to trust my senses.
I blamed the hallucinations entirely on withdrawal, By the
third day, the pain had dulled though.
Aloha home of anxiety lingered in my chest, I ventured outside
for firewood around midday. The sky was grey, thick clouds,
blotting out any warmth. The sun might have provided.
As I stacked logs near the cabin's front, porch?
A sudden movement, at the tree line, Drew my gaze upward.
Something pale flashed briefly between the branches.
A quick flicker of motion. I stared intently scanning, the
trees, heart quickening. I held my breath, waiting for
another sign minutes passed. Nothing moved.
I chalked it up to exhaustion and nerves returning inside and
locking the door firmly behind me.
Darkness fell quickly that evening and I stoked the wood
stove to keep the cabin warm. As the Flames crackled softly, I
sat listening to the nighttime. Sounds convincing myself that I
was imagining the distant rustling of leaves and snapping
twigs. But soon another noise reached
my ears. Low guttal grunts animal-like
but distorted. They echoed from Beyond the
cabin walls closer than I would have liked.
I sat upright alert gripping, the edge of the bunk my pulse
domed rapidly in my ears as the grunting grew louder, then
suddenly stopped Silence pressed heavily against me, my breath
shallow cautious. Then slowly something scraped
against the cabin's wooden exterior, a drawn out, rasping
sound like a knife. Gently dragged along the planks.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself up from the bed moving quietly
toward the window. My fingers trembled.
As I ease the edge of the curtain, just enough to peer
outside. Moonlight illuminated, the
clearing Stark and cold at first.
I saw nothing unusual but then my gaze drifted downward.
Deep uneven, scratches marred, the wood just beneath the
window. Ledge fresh gouges, clearly
visible against older weathered wood.
My throat tightened whatever. Made those marks was deliberate
and strong, I stepped back quickly nearly tripping over my
own feet My gaze flicked to the front door confirming again that
it was bolted. Shut.
I Pace breathing, unevenly debating.
If I should use the satellite phone but ultimately talked
myself out of it. This was withdrawal.
Paranoia, it had to be sleep was impossible, but exhaustion
eventually pulled me into uneasy unconsciousness late Into the
Night. Dreams and reality bleeding into
each other. When Dawn finely filtered
weakly, through the grimy windows, I forced myself outside
again, acts clenched tightly in hand.
Circling the cabin cautiously, I found more scratches this time
deeper higher, almost waist level, on the back wall.
The splintered wood looked fresh still sharp to the touch.
Something animalistic yet precise had made them.
Then I noticed footprints in the damp Earth long and oddly spaced
leading away into the trees. They were too elongated to be
human too. Irregular to belong to any
animal. I knew.
My chest tightened with a cold dread, that had nothing to do
with withdrawal. Staring into the dense, forest,
I felt Eyes Upon me from the shadow tree line.
Something weighted out there watching silently retreating
inside. I locked the door once again,
pulling the shades closed tightly.
The only sound was the steady drip of cold sweat, running down
my spine. Whatever I had thought was
paranoia what ever? I dismissed as hallucinations.
I now knew something very real and very wrong and habited this
stretch of isolated Forest, and it knew I was here.
I didn't leave the cabin again until late morning.
I couldn't ignore the feeling any longer.
Something was out there. I spent hours staring at my GPS
watch pacing the cabin's cramped interior, convincing myself
that, whatever I'd seen or heard had been exaggerated by
withdrawal. But when midday arrived
Restless, desperation, forced me.
Back outside. Axe in Hand and pulse hammering.
sunlight filtered weekly through the heavy clouds providing
minimal comfort The clearing around.
The cabin appeared untouched yet the Eerie quiet of the woods
pressed against me. Like a physical presence.
Birds, that should have filled the air with calls were silent.
I moved slowly toward the trail-lite followed in glancing
constantly at the Shadows that pooled among the thick trees.
I'd only walked 20 minutes when I realized something was wrong.
The path had changed somehow becoming unfamiliar narrower
choked by dense undergrowth. Panic, squeezed.
My throat. As I checked my GPS watch.
The screen flickered erratically, the digital
compass, spinning wildly unable to lock on to any direction.
Frustrated, I turned around attempting to retrace my steps
but the trees blurred together into amazed of identical Pine's
and brush. An hour passed before.
I finally found my way back. Heart thudding painfully in my
chest. The cabin stood exactly, as I
left it yet, even its modest walls offered less Comfort.
Now Once inside, I checked the satellite phone desperate to
hear Mike's, reassuring voice. It was dead completely
unresponsive despite being fully charged just hours earlier as
night. Crept closer, my anxiety
tightened. I barricaded.
The cabin. Door with firewood piled.
Heavy Furniture in front of the windows and sat staring blankly
into the dying Embers of the wood stove.
My stomach, nodded painfully from Hunger.
But fear made eating impossible around midnight noises returned,
quiet at first distant, bird calls, echoed faintly through
the darkness calls, strangely warped, each sound too uniform,
two deliberate. I pressed my ear to the boarded
window, holding my breath straining to listen.
Then I heard it clearly distinctly human drifting softly
from the woods. I'm fine, just need sleep.
My voice words, I'd spoke in early in the day, perfectly
replicated. The sound chilled me to my
bones, a wave of nausea Rising sharply in my gut.
I stepped back gripping, the axe, tightly silence followed
oppressive and Unbroken. Suddenly a sharp tapping echoed
at the window beside me gentle at first, then more deliberate
my heart, slammed against my ribs, as something scratched
slowly across the glass Nails, dragging with careful Precision.
I stared helplessly at the boarded window willing, my mind
to stop racing to regain control but my body trembled
uncontrollably. Minutes stretch painfully until
silence returned. Eventually my legs carried me to
the bunk were exhaustion, overtook fear, pulling me into
fitful sleep. Morning, brought only temporary
relief the woods of appeared peaceful again.
Bathed in Gray, lifeless daylight.
Venturing outside, I circled the cabin cautiously acts, ready
near the woodpile. I discovered something strange,
a tiny pile of hair Tangled, and filthy and beside it.
A small white tooth disturbingly human dirty and chip.
Bile Rose in my throat and I backed away slowly eyes, darting
between Shadows, expecting the pale, figure to emerge at any
moment. As I moved around the cabins
perimeter, my gaze fell upon Fresh Tracks.
Stamped into the mud long and strange, nearly human, but
distorted, the gaps between each print unnaturally spaced as if
the thing had bounded forward, awkwardly rather than walked I
retreated, immediately inside hands shaking so badly.
It took several attempts to latch the door.
Daylight faded again into a grim, oppressive dusk.
I doused a rag with stove fuel laying it beside a flare.
I'd placed on the table prepared or not.
If that thing came back, I wouldn't be helpless.
Night, descended rapidly and soon enough it returned.
I heard movement first beneath my feet, a scratching noise
beneath the floorboards crawling slowly deliberately circling
directly below me. I held the axe tightly Frozen,
breathe, shallow, and controlled.
The scraping beneath me grew louder.
Something shifting pressing upwards against the wood.
Testing the surface. My muscles burned from tension
my jaw clenched. So tightly at ache Then
abruptly, the noise ceased replaced by a suffocating quiet.
gripping the axe tighter, I approached the window and
flipped on my headlamp, shining the powerful beam into the
darkness Beyond The figure stood motionless illuminated starkly
in the harsh white glow, my stomach churned violently at the
site. Its limbs were long and
emaciated pale flesh. Clinging thinly to Bone's.
Fur, patchy, and matted. Its eyes stared blankly milk,
white Halo. For one terrible moment, I
couldn't move Frozen under that lifeless stare.
Without warning, it lurched sideways scrambling away into
the darkness. Not running.
Moving on all fours, grotesquely unnatural, scuttling low, like
an oversized insect Vanishing instantly into the thick cover
of Pines. I stumbled back, breathe ragged,
heart thundering painfully. I sank heavily onto the bunk
fingers, trembling acts still clutched, tightly against my
chest, whatever it was. It had found me, it had followed
me. And now I knew with sickening
certainly, it wasn't going to leave me alone.
I woke suddenly jerking upright in the dim.
Pre-dawn my chest felt tight. My heartbeat frantic.
Something had wrenched me from sleep, though.
The cabin was utterly silent now.
Cloaked and cold Shadows. I sat motionless straining to
hear any hint of movement. My breath caught sharply as the
floor creaked, soft, but unmistakable.
Inside the cabin. Panic surged through my veins.
Slowly painfully slowly. I turned my head toward the
room's demist corner. Nothing moved there.
But the air felt thick oppressive.
Then another sound a quiet uneven breathing came from near
the cabin door. It was deep rasping unnatural My
pulse hammered painfully in my ears.
As I gripped, the axe lying beside me.
Gathering all the courage left within my weakened body.
I swung my feet silently onto the cold, wooden floor as I Rose
the shadow near the door, shifted abruptly, scraping
against the wall and shuffling toward the exit.
In the low Gloom, I glimpsed a tall gaunt form.
Bones visible beneath sickly translucent flesh.
My knees nearly buckled adrenaline, flooding, every
nerve forcing me to stay upright.
I lunged forward axe raised but the figure slipped swiftly
outside through a crack in the half open door.
I slammed it. Shut my body shaking violently
and wedged. A wooden chair, beneath the
handle, muddy Footprints covered the cabin floor along, gated and
grotesque. I realized then with grim
Clarity that if I stayed here, I wouldn't survive, another night.
I had to get out the morning dragged painfully each minute an
eternity. I scavenged every scrap of
kerosene from the stove soaking rags in Old blankets.
Placing them methodically around the interior.
My heart. Pounded, as I laid out the flare
beside the stove, positioned, precariously on its Edge.
My eyes drifted to the satellite phone still dead.
I dropped it, bitterly to the floor, smashing it beneath my
boot and frustrated anger. It felt like another severed
Lifeline, another cruel joke. Darkness arrived quickly, heavy
clouds, blotting out the evening Sky silence pressed down.
Stifling broken only by the quiet ticking of my watch, when
the forest finally whispered, again, faint and distant my body
tends to instinctively my mouth, tasted metallic, blood pounding,
in my temples, I pressed play on my GPS.
Watch triggering a recorded, bird call looping quietly, from
the bunk, it's soft, rhythmic notes filled, the cabin moments
later from outside came a responding, mimicry warped,
strange, unnaturally precise, It was closed waiting.
Heart hammering ignited, the flare and placed it carefully at
the stovepipe balanced to fall at the slightest tremor.
My breath caught painfully. As I edged backward, acts grip
tightly until I reached the back window.
I forced it. Open quietly, the cool night air
startlingly fresh against my clammy skin.
With one last glance at the cabins shadowed interior.
I climbed out feet Landing Softly on damp ground.
The distant mimicry grew louder rapidly approaching.
Fear surged white-hot. Through my veins and I sprinted
toward the forest edge, stumbling blindly, through the
underbrush. Not daring to look back.
Second's later a sudden. Brilliant flash illuminated.
The forest followed by a Roar as flames exploded within the
cabin. Heat licked my back, even from a
distance, a strange, shrill shriek rising from the burning
structure. The scream echoed painful and
distorted twisting through the trees.
I ran harder branches clawing. My face lungs burning, my foot
caught on an exposed root. Sending me sprawling painfully
to the forest floor. Sharp Agony pierced my leg and
blood began soaking through. Torn jeans gritting my teeth.
I wrapped a torn strip from my shirt around the deep wound and
limped forward lungs, heaving Vision, blurred with tears and
sweat. The night, seemed endless every
shadow hiding another horror. Twice, I thought I heard
movement behind me, soft footsteps, pacing low breathing,
matching mine. But each time I spun around.
Only darkness and empty trees, stared back exhausted and
bleeding. I kept moving driven solely by
raw desperation. The first light of dawn, Finally
Revealed familiar to Reign a glimpse of the trail.
I'd first take in days earlier. Relief flooded through, me
overwhelming, and I staggered toward the road.
Collapsing onto the gravel covered in mud and blood.
I saw headlights approaching bright steady salvation.
Piercing through early morning fog, The pickup slowed beside me
a man. Leaping out in confusion.
In alarm. His voice sounded distant as he
called for help the world dimming around me.
Days Later, Mike returned to the cabin or rather to the scorched
remnants. He visited me afterward,
describing with pale shaking features, what he'd found, the
cabin had burned, completely reduced to Ash and charred
debris, but strangely, nothing else had ignited.
Not the surrounding trees nor even the nearby brush.
Just a perfect circle of scorched Earth, confined
entirely within the cabins footprint, a forest, ranger,
confused, and skeptical. Found no.
Trace of wildfire or lightning Mike later spoke quietly to a
local anishinaabe Elder who shared a story of ancient
hunting camp. A place where desperate hunger
had driven men to unspeakable Acts.
One particular Soul had lingered there, trapped cursed forever,
starving mimicking, life, to lure the vulnerable and lost.
As Mike finished his tail. I stared at my bandaged leg and
shivered haunted by the Holloway figure still burned into my
mind. Whatever it had been whether
ghost demon, or Twisted, remnant of something ancient, it was
real and it had almost taken me. Mount Katahdin isn't a welcoming
place in the dead of winter. Rising above Baxter State Park.
It's the highest peak in Maine and a brutal climb even in
favorable conditions. But once winter fully claims,
the mountains, it becomes an entirely different Beast
hostile, unpredictable, and unforgiving.
Experienced hikers. Know the stories sudden storms,
trapping, climbers, hikers disappearing Without a Trace.
Eerie sounds that even seasoned Park Rangers dismiss with uneasy
laughter been Konig and I had conquered harsh terrain before.
We were friends since high school.
Seasoned climbers, from Vermont with, Summits from the Rockies,
to the Adirondacks under our belts.
Mount Katahdin was our newest challenge.
Planned meticulously for mid-January, an opportunity to
push ourselves just a little further than we'd ever gone
before. Maybe too far.
The morning we arrived at Roaring Brook the sky was
already heavy. The cold are biting through
layers of thermal gear as though, mocking our efforts to
prepare The ranger stationed at the trailhead, studied our faces
carefully, glancing down at ritin Erie.
You boys know a blizzards coming into tonight.
His eyes lingered, measuring our resolve.
Nobody else is out there. Visibility could drop to nothing
in minutes. Were prepared been replied
confidently, worst case we hunker down at chimney Pond and
ride it out. The ranger frowned, but
eventually relented. We signed the logbook
acknowledging that rescue might not be possible of the storm
trap to us. Then with without Fanfare, we
set off. From the first step onto the
trail silence in developed us a thick pressing quiet interrupted
only by our boots crunching the snow and the steady hiss of wind
through sparse Pines. Katadin slopes stretched upwards
Stark and gray against the sky. We hiked for hours, methodically
pushing through deepening snow until we reached a ridge near
Chimney pond. Been stopped abruptly staring
down at something in the snow off the trail.
Hey miles check this out, he called motioning me closer.
There was a single Snowshoe print press deeply into the
powder, far larger than our own veering off Trail and abruptly
disappearing at the edge of a frozen bog.
No, other prints led to or away from it.
My stomach tightened slightly irrationally, could have been
someone turning around. I offered weekly then shook his
head, looking skeptical, someone huge and alone up here in this
weather. The question hung in the air on
answered as we trudged onward by late afternoon, chimney Pond
greeted us, white desolate empty.
We set up our tent and huddled inside the wind steadily
increasing as snow pelted. The thin walls.
Night fell swiftly, swallowing the mountain.
Hours later around 3 in the morning.
Something Jarred me awake. My ears strained against the
Relentless wind, trying to make sense of the unsettling.
Sound a deep slow rhythmic breathing just outside the tent.
I nudged been awake silently pressing a finger to my lips.
His eyes snapped, open immediately alert.
You hear that? I whispered barely audible above
the wind, been listened carefully, his breath catching
as he registered, the sound quietly, we pulled back the tent
flap and shined. Our flash lights out into the
storm. Nothing only swirling, snow
untouched around our tent, been pulled back inside visibly
shaken, What the hell I had no answer our breath formed,
ghostly clouds inside the tent. Neither of us slept, again that
night waiting silently for Dawn, each minutes, stretching
endlessly by morning, the breathing had ceased The world
outside was bright, but lifeless.
As we brewed coffee and forced ourselves to eat then, try to
rationalize the sound. When patterns can do weird,
things up here. He reasoned, though.
Neither of us. Truly believed it.
The storm was worsening, white sheets obscuring visibility
almost entirely yet. We decided to stay one more
night. Hoping for a clearing by
morning. We both tried to ignore the
heavy persistent dread but katadin shadowed larger than
ever and I couldn't shake the feeling we weren't alone, we
didn't leave the tent much the next day.
The storm raged stronger whipping snow violently against
the nylon walls blinding, everything Beyond a few feet.
The temperature plunged steadily dropping well below zero, even
wrapped in layers of high-tech insulation.
I felt chilled deep inside my bones, sometime in the early
afternoon, I forced myself outside to relieve myself.
Every inch of me, resisted stepping into that storm, but
necessity won out. I opened the tent flap and
immediately regretted it. The wind slammed into me like a
physical Force. Stealing the air, from my lungs.
I stumbled forward pushing blindly into the squall.
And then, as I turned toward a patch of Pines, I stopped dead,
my blood instantly freezing in my veins.
Standing about 50 yards. Away was a deer carcass
completely froze. Frozen positioned upright on its
hind legs. Its head was tilted on naturally
dark eyes wide open and glazed over with ice.
Snow clunk stiffly to its hide. It looked as though it had,
simply died standing there, impossibly preserved and
disturbingly posed. Been.
I shouted my voice cracking Against the Wind.
He emerged from the tent instantly tense as he saw my
face. What's wrong?
Wordlessly? I pointed toward the carcass he
squinted then his eyes. Widened is that a deer?
We approached slowly snow crunching beneath our boots The
closer we got the more grotesque, it became the animal
showed no obvious wounds, no blood, nothing to suggest why or
how it ended up there. Frozen upright, a lump of dread
lodged deep in my gut who could have done this been muttered or
what I said grimly been shook his head eyes darting around the
trees, maybe at some Twisted joke hunters or something.
Maybe it was already dead. I didn't believe that anymore
than he did but neither of us wanted to consider the
alternative. We turned back quickly
retreating into the tent. Night came early, the darkness
absolute around 9. Something pressed gently against
the tent, pushing the fabric, inwards Ben's eyes snapped, open
wide with alarm. That's not when he whispered
Horsley another press stronger. This time, my breath caught in
my throat outside, heavy footsteps move slowly around the
perimeter crunching snow with careful deliberation, each step
landed with weight. Clearly audible through the thin
fabric, check out side been whispered shakily neither of us,
moved fear pinning, Us in place eventually the footsteps stopped
replaced by that terrible breathing sound again.
Slow deep unmistakably close. Been started.
Mumbling incoherently in his sleep shortly after midnight, I
shook him awake Panic Rising as he opened his eyes and smiled
dreamy. Did you hear it?
He murmured, softly. Someone outside calling my name.
I gripped, his shoulders been listened to me, no one's out
there. We need to stay calm but he
shook his head. Still smiling faintly.
They said they have something to show me.
I felt the tent walls, press inward, again more forceful.
Now, like something large brushing against it
deliberately, my heart hammered in my chest, We sat awake until
dawn, silent breathing shallowly waiting for whatever was outside
to move away. When pale morning finely
filtered through the tent, I reached for my boots.
We have to get off this mountain, I told been urgently,
but he didn't move. He sat there staring blankly
into space. A vacant smile, slowly crept
onto his lips. It wants me to see he whispered
eyes distant unfocused, then before I could grab him been
stood and walked Barefoot into the snow, outside, the tent
eyes, glazed face, Serene been. I screamed scrambling after him,
but by the time, I stood in the open, blinding snow swirling
around me. He had already vanished Into the
Storm gone into the trees Without a Trace Panic.
Surged through my chest, overriding, everything else as I
stared into the blank swirling whiteness where Ben had vanished
My mind screamed at me to move to follow to pull him back
before, it was too late. But the snow swallowed
everything, there were Footprints at first deep and
erratic. But soon, they Twisted into a
baffling spiral that made no sense.
Mixed among Ben's familiar boot prints were longer, wider
depressions, Barefoot Impressions, pressed deeply into
the powder, trailing alongside his The cold bit painfully into
my fingers, but adrenaline kept me numb, urging me forward.
I stumbled through the thickening drifts shouting, his
name, until my throat, felt raw the blizzard buried.
Every sound beneath its Relentless gusts isolating me
completely. After 10 frantic minutes, the
tracks became impossible to follow overlapping and turning
in circles crossing paths. As if Ben had chased or been
chased by something, I couldn't understand.
I stopped trembling and exhausted snow.
Crusting my lashes. I knew continuing blindly Into
the Storm was a death sentence. My friend was out there lost in
The Madness of kata's Wrath, but I had no choice left to survive.
Meant retreating. I forced myself, back toward the
tent now. A small blue smudge.
Fading Into the swirling White My heart skipped as I neared it.
standing upright, once more impossibly positioned directly
in front of our campsite, was the deer carcass Its head
twisted grotesquely to the side. Dead eyes.
Fixed directly toward me snow coded.
Its fur again but thinly this time as if recently placed there
my breath Frozen. My lungs.
This was no joke. No coincidence.
Something. Monstrous had carefully arranged
this scene, I moved quickly, avoiding looking too closely
grabbed my gear from the tent and left chimney.
Pond behind driven, downward by blind Terror, The Descent was
brutal. Each step tested my strength,
the snow accumulating rapidly hiding familiar landmarks
transforming. The trail into a treacherous
Maze of ice and frost covered rocks.
My fingers burned with the intense cold soon.
They'd told to numbness. My toes followed quickly feeling
leaded then not at all. Hours passed in a haze of
desperation. Every sound around me, became
Sinister a branch snapping. The winding through distant
gullies heavy snow falling from branches of Shadows, moved at
the edges of my vision quick and Elusive Vanishing.
Whenever I focused directly on them my Pace slowed weakness,
overtook me. The simple Act of breathing felt
impossibly difficult lungs aching from the icy air.
I forced myself. Onward driven, only by the
instinctive animalistic urge to survive.
Ben's face haunted, every step. His calm smile burned into my
memory. By the time I reached Roaring
Brook Darkness had fallen again deeper and colder than before
the ranger station emerged from the Blackness dimly lit, a
beacon of warmth and life. My legs gave out mere feet from
the door. I collapsed into the snow.
My mind spiraling Into Darkness. When I awoke harsh fluorescent,
lights pierced my vision. Voice is Echo.
Distantly urgent concerned. Park Rangers crowded around
their faces. Grim pain bloomed through my
hands and feet stabbing and Relentless I glanced down
horrified to see two fingers already discolored.
Frostbitten black been harassed. Desperate and weak been still
out there. A ranger placed a gentle hand on
my shoulder. We have a search party already
out, just rest now. I shook my head violently Panic.
Overwhelming me again, you don't understand something was
following us. It, it took him.
He smiled when he walked away smiled, like, he heard someone
calling him home. The ranger glanced uneasily at
the others exchanging silent. Looks They offered no
reassurances. No words of comfort.
They merely nodded lips. Tight eyes.
Uneasy Days later as I lay recovering in a hospital bed
bandaged and broken, a ranger visited me privately his voice,
stayed low, wary of being overheard.
We never found your friend. He said Gravely.
But we did find something else near Chimney Pond a deer.
Standing upright, exactly like you described He paused visibly
shaken before continuing there were prints too, big ones bare
feet, but different not human, his voice.
Trail off eyes distant haunted, you know, every few Winters
someone disappears up there people, whisper stories tracks
without explanation, Whispers in the Dark, He stood abruptly
turning toward the door pausing, only once more before leaving me
alone. Your lucky, he muttered Softly.
Whatever it is that hunts up there.
It doesn't offer. Let people leave.
His words, lingered long after the door closed outside the
hospital window, the mountain loomed silent and patient hiding
its Secrets beneath deep snow and shadows.
Gifford. Pinchot National Forest is over
a million Acres of sprawling Wilderness in Washington known
for its dense. Old-growth forests cascading
rivers and rugged volcanic Terrain.
The place is notoriously, vast easy to get lost in and tempting
for those like me who crave the Solitude and thrill of
exploration. I've spent years solo,
backpacking, the Pacific Northwest documenting my trips
on blogs and forums always pushing deeper, always off-trail
drawn to untouched lands that don't exist on any official map.
So when I heard vague mentions of abandoned logging settlements
hidden Northeast of the goat, rocks wilderness.
Curiosity got the better of caution.
I parked my truck at the end of an abandoned Logging Road near
Randall marked only by a rusted gate buried in blackberry vines.
Slinging my pack onto my shoulders.
I glanced at my handheld GPS, fully charged and noted my
coordinates before slipping into the dense, green wall of the
forest. The initial Trek was tough
going. Thick ferns tugged at my boots,
Tangled Roots, threatened to trip me at every step and the
low-hanging branches slapped at my face and chest.
But the effort was worth it. The silence was magnificent, a
profound absence of humanity. That only the Deep Wilderness
offers Still as the day wore on, I couldn't help but notice that
silence growing deeper more. Absolute Not a single bird call
or the distant Russell of squirrels, just the steady
crunch of my boots on pine, needles and Moss, by laid after
noon. The forest opened slightly into
a small clearing and I saw them whether wooden structures
melting into the ground roofs. Collapsed walls bowed and
covered in thick blankets of moss.
Rusted saw blades, broken axes, and disintegrating.
Boots were scattered about and abandoned logging Camp,
forgotten and reclaimed by Nature.
I paused intrigued heart quickening with the rush of
Discovery. There was no record of this
place on my maps or in the history side.
Read. It felt like I stepped into a
forgotten era. The sun began dipping below the
distant Ridge painting, the forest in muted, Amber, I
decided to set up camp among the ruins.
It would make great content for my blog.
I thought ignoring the Small Voice in the back of my mind,
urging caution, I pitched my tent next to the skeletal
remains of a bunkhouse collected, some dry wood.
And soon had a small fire going After heating a freeze-dried
meal and Brewing instant coffee, I leaned back against my pack
and recorded a quick update for my GoPro, detailing the location
and excitement of the discovery. As Darkness crept in the forest,
settled into an eerie calm. Usually night brought a symphony
of insects rustling animals and wind through branches.
Tonight, the quiet was oppressive.
Almost tangible. It felt unnatural.
Shaking off the feeling. I crawled into my tent zipped
myself in and eventually fell asleep comforted by the
familiarity of canvas walls. I awoke suddenly A heavy
oppressive silence pressed down, my pulse loud in my ears.
My watch glowed faintly, 2 a.m. I lay there for a moment ears,
straining Eyes Wide in the absolute Darkness.
Nothing. Just silence.
Maybe a dream. Had startled me awake.
Still unease prickled, my skin. Slowly, I unzipped the tent flap
and peered into the dark clearing.
The cold air rushed in sending chills down my spine.
My flash light beam swept across the ruins catching the Twisted
shape of decaying buildings and ghostly white trunks of Alder
and Birch. Nothing moved.
No eyes reflected back at me. I whispered a curse under my
breath zipping, the tent back up and forced myself, back into
Restless sleep. Morning came reluctantly.
A pale gray Dawn, illuminated, the clearing bringing relief.
Unzipping, the tent I stretched and stepped out immediately
freezing mid-stride. My heart.
Thumped painful in my chest. All of my gear had been moved.
My boots carefully placed just outside the tent last night.
Now sat 20 feet away near the old fire pit.
My backpack, lay open on its side contents neatly arranged,
nearby food packets Maps, clothing.
None of it taken but meticulously reorganized, my
cooking pot which I had left upside down by the tent to dry.
Now, rested, upright in the middle of the cold, ashes of
last night's fire. Panic surged.
And I quickly checked my GoPro. The footage from last night.
Abruptly stopped at 147, am cutting off mid-frame.
Hands shaking. I examined the camera closely.
Battery full memory card intact, no logical explanation.
Something Russell's faintly at the edge of the clearing, a soft
shift of leaves, then silence. I jerked around scanning the
trees. A nearby Cedar trunk caught.
My eye. Deep grooves.
Gouged into the bark. Fresh sap oozing down like
blood. Three distinct claw marks higher
than my reach, precise and deliberate.
Heart pounding, I stared at those marks.
Knowing Beyond doubt, they hadn't been there.
Yesterday, whatever had visited, my Camp last night, had a merely
rearranged my belongings. It was letting me know, it was
here and it had watched me sleep.
The claw marks were deep precise deliberate.
I ran my fingers over the grooves, feeling the sticky
saps, seat between them, whatever left, these marks had
strength, real tangible strength, My rational mind
scrambled to identify an animal capable of such markings, but
nothing fit. Not bears, not cougars.
They were too high, too precise. Two.
Unnatural. The forest around me felt
closer. Now as though it had shifted
inward overnight, every shadow, every tree trunk took on a
menacing quality shaking but determined, I retrieved my gear
packed my belongings and debated leaving immediately, but the
need to document the site to make sense of what was
happening. Kept me anchored, I spent the
afternoon methodically exploring the perimeter of the abandoned
settlement. As I ventured deeper my camera
rolling, I found more claw marks, identical sets of three,
parallel grooves, each higher off the ground than the last.
They ringed the camp in an eerie pattern like some primitive form
of boundary marking by evening, the sun bled slowly below the
distant Ridgeline leaving behind a dull Crimson glow.
I rebuilt my campfire. This time larger and brighter,
the snapping Flames offering limited reassurance.
I brewed another pot of instant coffee fighting off exhaustion
with caffeine and adrenaline my headlamp remained lit.
Even in the Twilight. Casting its feeble beam into the
looming Darkness. By 11 p.m. the silence thickened
again, heavy and Unbroken. my ears strained, desperate for any
normal forest, sounds a cricket, the wind rustling leaves an owls
distant call, but the woods refused Then distinctly a slow
shuffle sounded at the tree line measured in heavy.
Something was pacing circling just beyond the reach of my
firelight. I stood slowly flash light
trembling in my grip. Who's there?
My voice cracked in the quiet thin and insignificant.
No answer came only more shuffling footsteps deliberately
slow moving with calculated intent.
Panic coiled inside me. I swept my flashlight across the
trees. The beam caught another freshly
clawed tree much closer this time Sapp still oozing.
It was moving in while I watched fear surged cold and bitter
staying in the open felt suicidal.
My eyes landed on the nearest intact.
Bunkhouse its warped, wooden walls, suddenly seemed safer
than canvas, abandoning the fire.
I hastily grabbed my pack flash light, shaking, wildly and
bolted for the structure. Inside the air, smell of damp
wood and decay. Rusted metal bunks line, the
walls and floorboards creaked beneath my weight.
I slammed the heavy wooden door. Shut behind me leaning against
it breathing hard. Hastily I pulled rope from my
pack and wounded through a sturdy bracket on the wall,
securing the door tight. My hands Shook on controllably
fingers fumbling knots I sang onto a moldy bunk knife,
clenched in one hand flash light in the other.
Minutes passed slowly stretching into what felt like hours every
muscle remained tense. Every nerve alert just as
exhaustion began clawing at the edges of Consciousness.
A scraping sound jolted me awake, the noise harsh and
deliberate along the outside wall, my breath stopped I stared
at the wood paneling as the scraping moved, methodically
around the building something dragging heavily against the
Warped boards. I couldn't move couldn't scream
could only listen in silent dread the scraping paused by the
door, the handle rattling. Gently testing the Rope
strength. Second dragged by the silence
broken, only by my ragged breathing, then footsteps again,
slow measured dragging away from the bunkhouse, Fading Into the
Woods. Long.
After the sound ceased, I sat rigid gripping the knife until
my Knuckles turned white unable to close my eyes waiting
desperately for daylight the first hint of morning sunlight
filtered weekly through cracks in the bunkhouse walls.
A pale reprieve from the endless Darkness.
My muscles, ache from hours, spent Frozen in place.
Fingers, clenched around my knife.
The forest Beyond had gone quiet again, unnaturally still but at
least the scraping and footsteps had stopped.
I stood up slowly bones popping as I stretched and approached
the bunkhouse door. The Rope I'd used to secure it.
Remain taught. I listened carefully pressing my
ear against the Warped. Wood.
Silence. Taking a deep breath.
I untied the Rope eased. Open the door and stepped
outside into the gray morning. Chill, my heart sank.
Overnight. The clearing had transformed
completely. The circle of clawed, trees had
tightened even further around me.
Fresh gouges, bled. Sap in thin Amber trails.
That glistened, wetly. In the dawn light, there were
dozens far more than before. It felt like a cage closing in.
I grabbed only what was essential from my scattered
belongings. My camera GPS knife, and a
single emergency Flair. The rest.
I abandoned without hesitation Escape was the only option.
Now, holding the GPS in a trembling hand, I set off
quickly heading directly toward where I had parked my truck two
days ago, the device flickered, a radically signal, jumping
wildly, between coordinates, I cursed smacked, it uselessly
against my palm, but it refused to stabilize my compass too spun
without Direction with no other choice.
I moved forward by Instinct fighting the choking brush and
tangling undergrowth that clawed at my legs.
After an hour, my pulse quickened, as familiar shapes
loomed ahead. A twisted.
Bunkhouse broken foundations, rusted tools.
My stomach lurched. I'd walked in a loop.
The abandoned Camp had pulled me back.
Frantically I turned in another Direction.
Marking trees with my knife to confirm my path this time. again
after nearly an hour, the dilapidated Bunkhouse emerged
from the trees ahead mocking my efforts Fighting back Rising
panic. I tried again.
Altering my path. Almost running blindly through
the dense foliage, the breath hot and ragged in my throat.
Eventually exhausted and desperate, I stumbled across the
faint. Trace of an Old Logging Road
nearly swallowed by brush. It was narrow choked with
tangled, older branches, but it led outward downhill away from
the cursed clearing. I followed the road as quickly
as I could branches, scraping my face and arms leaving red welts.
Strange markings began appearing on logs and boulders beside the
trail. Deep scratches forming symbols
of circles and straight lines, and groups of three primitive,
deliberate and unsettling. I didn't stop to examine them,
but the markings seemed to pulse in my peripheral vision, urging
me faster. Then behind me, footsteps began
again. Heavy rhythmic, and deliberate.
My chest tightened blood pounding loudly, in my ears, I
glanced back, quickly nearly tripping over a root but saw
nothing except dense foliage. The footsteps came, steadily
closer accompanied now by the slow drag of something heavy
across Leaf litter. My breathing became shallow
Panic clawing at my chest. I quickened my Pace nearly
sprinting, branches whipping across my face leaving stinging
cuts, I could hear it clearly now, close behind relentless.
Gathering, courage, I spun around gripping.
The knife tightly my heart. Nearly stopped just beyond the
edge of my vision, stood, a pale shape, then and towering.
Half concealed behind the wide trunk of an ancient Cedar.
It was impossibly gone elongated.
Limbs dangling, low Its posture Twisted, awkwardly unnatural.
Pale modeled flesh, reflected faint daylight but its face
remained hidden behind the tree. It moves slightly silently.
No breath. No sound.
Just a horrifying. Deliberate shift forward.
Instinct overtook reason. I yanked, the emergency Flair
from my pocket fingers fumbling. As I ignited, it sending a
blinding bursts of red lights, Skyward.
The forest erupted in sudden, brilliance.
The figure recoiled sharply retreating deeper into Shadow,
seemingly startled, by the brightness.
Seizing, my chance. I sprinted wildly down the old
road legs burning with effort, chest tight, with exhaustion my
lungs. Felt ready to burst but fear
propelled me forward. Then mercifully through the
trees, I Glimpse the shape of my truck parked exactly where I had
left it days before. I crashed through the last thick
patch of brush wrenching. Open the driver's door, nearly
sobbing with relief as the engine roared to life.
I tore away from the spot without looking back hands.
Shaking uncontrollably on the Wheel.
Hours later safely locked inside a cheap motel room near Randall.
I uploaded a brief account of my nightmare to a Wilderness
backpacking Forum. Avoiding specifics about
location or details too unbelievable.
I just needed to share to warn. The following morning a
notification flashed on my phone.
A private message from an anonymous user.
You weren't the first stay out of starved ground.
I'd been planning this. Backpacking trip.
Through Idaho Sawtooth Wilderness for months as someone
who spent a summer, interning with the forest service.
I prided myself on navigating remote areas and I chose our
wrote carefully. A four-day Loop that started
near redfish Lake wound through Alpine Lake and dipped into the
rugged Solitude of Hell roaring Canyon.
My fiancee Tasha along with her friends, Milo, and Erica, agreed
enthusiastically. We needed a break.
A taste of wilderness Untouched by crowds, and civilization, the
first morning, felled, promising, A thin layer of smoke
from distant wildfires hazed, The Horizon giving the jagged
Granite Peaks of surreal glow. We adjusted our packs at the
trailhead. Milo cracking jokes to mask his
inexperience while Erika. A Trauma Nurse who always exuded
quiet confidence, triple checked, our medical kit.
Tasha's camera, shutter, clicked rhythmically, capturing photos
of the trailhead sign and the distant Alpine landscape within
hours, we settled into an easy Rhythm.
The air was Chris sent by Pine and dry Earth and we passed the
occasional hiker on our way to Alpine Lake.
But soon the trail became hours Alone by late afternoon.
We made Camp beside a clearing rimmed by old towering.
Lodge pole Pines, the wind picked up as evening approached
rustling through branches. Carrying the Smoky scent more
strongly as dusk fell. I wandered a short distance to
scout our route for the following day. the Setting Sun
cast long Deep Shadows across the trail and as I walked
something caught my eye, Off to my right parallel to our route,
fresh boot prints cut through the soft dirt, I knelt to
examine them closely, the tread pattern, wasn't familiar, not
mine, not Tasha's, not Milos nor Erica's.
I stood slowly scanning the thickening Forest around me.
It wasn't unheard of to find prints out here but these felt
close oddly aligned with our path.
A twinge of unease curled inside my gut.
But I brushed it off, I returned to camp and decided not to
mention it reasoning. There was no need to stir
unnecessary worry. Dinner passed uneventfully
conversation, easy and Light. We laughed as Milo, exaggerated
his survival skills, claiming he could build a shelter from pine
needles and optimism alone. But soon, our voices faded into
silence as exhaustion settled in.
Erica doused. The small fire we'd made and
darkness closed around us heavy and complete.
It wasn't until well past midnight that I was startled
away. The forest had become oddly,
still the normal sounds of night, strangely absent, my
breath quickened in voluntarily as I strained to listen.
Moments. Later, a sharp snapping of
branches echoed just beyond the thin nylon walls of our tent.
I glanced over Tasha's eyes were wide and alert staring into
mine. We both weighted perfectly still
Another crack louder this time and footsteps.
Soft deliberate circled around the far perimeter of our camp.
Carefully silently. I reached for my flashlight and
knife crawling to the tent flap with.
Slow, controlled breaths. I unzipped just enough to peer
out nothing but Darkness greeted me.
A Blackness deepened by the Smoky Haze.
I swept my flashlight beam in a careful Ark highlighting only
ghostly Shadows cast by trees, no animals no movement.
Whoever or whatever had made those noises was Now Quiet
hidden. I zipped the tent back, shut
heart, thudding in my chest, and sat awake until dawn crept,
slowly over The Ridges. Certain in that moment that our
peaceful trip had already started to slip from my control.
Morning, broke gray and heavy, the sun, little more than a dull
orange smear through the Smoky Veil overhead.
None of us had slept, well, after the noises outside, the
tent, Milo was grouchy and kept shooting glances into the trees.
Muttering about raccoons or bears.
Erica remained. Quiet.
Packing with sharp tense movements.
Tasha hovered near me watching closely as I studied the map,
again, tracing our route toward hell roaring Canyon we set out
shortly after breakfast, hiking silently as the terrain steeped,
The Pines loomed denser here. Their trunks scarred by past
wildfires. The landscape shifted into
something, unsettling Twisted, branches, and black and Earth,
silent evidence of Nature's indifference to destruction.
About two hours in Milo, let out a sudden, harsh shout behind me.
I spun around just in time to see him pitching sideways into a
patch of thick brush, his leg jerking violently upward as if
yanked, by an invisible hand, Milo Erica shouted, rushing
toward him as Tasha and I followed close behind.
He was lying in the brush eyes wide and panicked cursing loudly
around his shin was a thin, but strong length of wire biting
into his skin now smeared with blood.
My stomach tightened as I scammed the ground and realized
this wasn't some random accident, this was a trap
carefully set together. We freed him.
Milo groning is Erica wrapped. His wounded leg with practice
efficiency. He glanced at me accusingly.
His voice edged with anger and fear.
What the hell, Ryan where have you let us?
I didn't answer scanning the trees wondering who had placed
this snare and why my mind returned to the strange
Footprints from yesterday evening.
I had brushed them off as coincidence but now my doubts
searched back potent and cold. We quickly decided to turn
around agreeing with without words that something was deeply
wrong. But when we retraced our steps,
the anxiety that had worked quietly Within Me exploded into
panic. The trail we'd walk down only
minutes before was blocked by a pile of freshly displaced rocks.
A wall of heavy, Rubble, deliberately toppled from the
steep slope above. My breath caught sharply in my
chest. Erica stared at the barrier,
silent and pale while Tasha's eyes.
Darted, nervously around the Steep ridges above us.
Someone had deliberately cut off our route.
Ryan. Tasha's voice was low urgent.
Someone's watching us up there. She nodded subtly toward the
ridge line of my heart hammered as I followed her gaze.
For an instant silhouetted against the Smoky Sky.
I saw a figure dark hooded, motionless, unmistakably human
watching us intently. He stood perfectly, still
holding something long and slender, perhaps a bow or a
spear, but before I could say anything, he stepped calmly
backward and vanished behind the rocks.
We need another way out, I said, forcing calm and to my voice.
But beneath it I felt deeply shaken.
Later that afternoon. We made Camp again this time
nervously, checking the ground around our tents.
Erica volunteered to inspect a clearing near the tents and let
out a quiet gasp that sent dread rushing.
Through me, buried beneath leaves and pine needles, was
another crude device. A sharpened wooden stake
positioned upright. Its tip aimed upward to impale a
careless step. The discovery sent chills racing
down my spine. This was more than someone
trying to scare us. This was someone actively
hurting and hunting us. I moved alone toward the ridge,
scouting. A New Path for escape as
Shadows. Grew long and the smoke thick
and dusk pressed closer. Every snapped, twig, every
rustling. Leaf jolted, my nerves, a flash
of something white. Drew my attention ahead Stark
against the darkening bark of a dead tree.
I approached, slowly my stomach clenching tighter with every
step. at I love grotesque in, its bloody display, was the
mutilated carcass of a rabbit skewered by a flint tips, spear
blood trickled sluggishly down the bark.
I recalled, nausea Rising As I understood the clear chilling
message, we were no longer just hikers, we had become prey, the
canyon walls loomed higher and narrower, their Granite faces,
dark and imposing each step. Felt heavier our bodies,
exhausted census, frayed by constant dread Milo's leg injury
had slowed us considerably and Erica stayed close to support
him. Tasha and I walked ahead eyes.
Constantly scanning the dense Shadows along the rocky slopes.
As we move deeper into hell roaring Canyon, I realized the
smoke of had thickened darkening, the daylight to an
eerie Amber hue. We passed through a burned over
landscape blackened trees jutting Skyward like charred
Spears visibility was poor, the smoke stinging our eyes and
feeling our lungs. Tasha halted suddenly face
paling as she frantically. Searched her backpack, the maps
gone. She said, quietly voice
trembling I felt a stab of panic.
Gone, she nodded slowly eyes wide with realization.
Someone took it while we slept. Maybe when we left our packs on
guarded Erica, cursed, under her breath, Milos stared bleakly at
the ground, without a map, we were essentially blind in
unfamiliar territory. Let's stay calm.
I forced myself to say though, my voice lacked conviction, will
follow the canyon down, it should eventually lead us out.
Erica nodded silently, Milo said, nothing we trudged on the
are thickening further as the canyon walls pressed closer
oppressive and suffocating within hours.
We stumbled across an encampment tucked beneath a rocky, overhang
crude and primitive animal bones.
Lay scattered around a, filthy sleeping bag.
Old tin cans, rusted by the elements.
I felt a nauseating sense of intrusion as though he'd stepped
into someone's private sanctuary.
A sanctuary of Madness and isolation then from the shadows
and arrow struck a tree near Milo's head embedding itself
with a solid thunk. Milo shouted, stumbling backward
into Erica. My heart, slammed against my
ribs, pulse roaring in my ears. Run.
I shouted. Chaos erupted.
Another arrow whipped, passed narrowly missing.
Tasha we scrambled into the Deadwood, crashing through
brittle, branches and tripping on hidden Roots, Milo lagged
behind hampered by his wounded leg, his breathing harsh and
ragged. As I glanced back, I saw him
stumble and fall heavily to the ground.
Erica reached to help him but Milo cried out in pain.
Leave me. He gasped just go and arrow.
Slice the are overhead Instinct overpowered hesitation I grabbed
Tasha's hand. Pulling her forward, Erica
hesitated briefly then sprinted to join us eyes wide with guilt
and fear seconds. Later we heard Milo's scream, a
single agonized cry cut brutally short, we kept running until
Darkness forced us to collapse hidden within a dry Rocky Creek,
beds pounding furiously breathing, shallow and strained.
No one spoke. The weight of Milo's lost
pressing down heavily. Tasha, silently wept beside me.
And I wrapped my arm around her. Trembling shoulders.
Dawn arrived, casting week, gray light through the canyon from
our hiding place. I spotted a thin column of smoke
curling upward farther down. The canyon barely visible
through the haze Maybe someones their Erica whispered,
hopefully. Or maybe it was another trap but
we had no options left. Cautiously, we moved toward the
smoke as we drew near the distinct shape of a human body.
Came into Focus, Milo alive, but tied roughly to a stake hammered
into the rocky Earth. He lifted his head.
Weakly eyes. Pleading, it's a trap.
He rasped. He is here.
Waiting. My stomach nodded painfully
Instinct screaming Danger. I motioned to Tasha and Erica
signaling them to Circle wide around the perimeter while I
approached Milo head on moving slowly and deliberately a branch
cracked nearby turning sharply. I Glimpse the hooded figure
emerging from behind a black and trunk a bow grip, tightly Arrow
notched His face was obscured by Shadow the hood, dark and
stained his presence. Radiated threat, Primal and
unmistakable. Now, I shouted, Erica and Tasha
rushed from behind, surprising him momentarily.
In that brief distraction I lunged forward slamming into him
with desperation fueled Force, the bowel clattered away, we
grappled fiercely rolling over broken Earth and sharp Stones.
The attacker fought silently his movement, strong, and practice.
In the struggle, we stumbled backward toward a concealed
pitch, he had masked with branches and dirt a trap meant
for us too late. He realized his mistake with a
guttural cry. He fell backward into the pit
landing hard. His body Twisted awkwardly, I
stood panting at the edge staring down at the dark figure
sprawled in the shallow Trench. He groaned faintly clearly
injured but alive. My mind, raced filled with rage
and adrenaline. Leave him.
Erica said harshly we need to get Milo out of here.
We quickly freed Milo, half carrying him away from that
terrible Place. Stumbling along the stream bed,
until nearly two days later, exhausted, starving and numb.
We reached a ranger station near Alturas Lake in the days that
followed authorities recovered. Our stalker, a man who had
vanished into isolation decades earlier driven mad by loneliness
and survivalist. Paranoia Human remains found
near his primitive Camp, confirmed that we'd narrowly
avoided becoming another Grim statistic.
We all promised, never to return to the Sawtooth wilderness.
I burned our Trail notes and Milo moved far away haunted by
nightmares. For me, only one secret remained
hidden quietly in the drawer of my nightstand.
A single stone-tipped, Arrowhead mysteriously found embedded in
my boot. After we escaped a reminder, I
could never truly Shake I'd spent more than half my life in
the Adirondacks photographing Peaks and valleys guiding others
through rugged trails and trekking solo through some of
the wildest terrain, New York State could offer.
By my early 40s, the mountains felt as familiar as home but the
Wilderness always had ways to remind me that it was anything
but safe. Laid October was risky and
locals knew it. Snows, ice-covered Trails,
rapidly plunging temperatures conditions that could change
without warning. Still, I needed one more
perfect. Photograph for my winter
exhibit, Avalanche Lake framed and Autumn Frost from a top
mount Colden. I left early, my gear
meticulously packed certain, I could handle, whatever the high
peaks Wilderness through it, me, The morning hike had been
perfect, clear and quiet. As I followed Lake Arnold Trail
upward. The chill bit lightly through my
insulated layers, fresh snow crunching, softly Under Foot.
But by after noon, the mood of the mountain changed the are
thickened swirling with sudden gusts that bit sharply at my
exposed face. At first, it was just flurries
harmless picturesque. Within minutes though visibility
dropped sharply, wind howled relentlessly snowflake's.
Hardened in to icy pellets. Stinging my cheeks and forehead.
I checked my GPS and cursed Signal was lost worst, my
landmarks rocks fall in logs, even familiar, trees, vanished
into a wall of white disoriented.
I pushed forward, desperately trying to find shelter.
My heart pounded harder as I moved blindly across
increasingly steep terrain, gusts clawed at my balance,
sending me sliding down slick. Granite slabs hidden under
powder My flashlight did little to pierce the murk and I
realized sinking into my gut like an anchor that I was off
Trail Alone lost. Then barely visible in the
swirling Gloom Aero opening appeared like a black Jagged
wound in the Cliffside a cave, not large, but deep enough to
escape the cutting, wind relief flooded through, me climbing
inside, I found solid rock, beneath my feet and walls
tightened enough to keep out the driving.
Snow. My pulse steady slightly as I
removed my pack shivering hands shaking, I fumbled for dry
layers. Grateful for small mercies when
I heard it for the first time, a soft scraping noise from deeper
inside my head. Snapped around shining, my flash
light into the darkness nothing only rough irregular walls
disappearing. Further back I held my breath
listening. Nothing moved.
It's just wind. I muttered allowed attempting to
convince myself more than anything else, but the silence
in response was profound. No, Echo know, reassuring sounds
from outside, just heavy pressing quiet.
I glanced toward the cave. Entrance dimmed.
Now, as evening, thickened outside, conditions were
worsening, fast leaving was impossible.
I settled in slowly laying out emergency gear and focusing on
my breathing. Stillness returned briefly but
my nerves refused to fully settle.
Then just as my heartbeat had begun to slow.
The scraping noise returned slightly.
Louder accompanied. Now by something else a slow
rhythmic clicking gentle but deliberate It wasn't wind.
My breath caught in my throat. My flash light trained on the
Cave's depths. The beams showed nothing but
Jagged rock formations shadowed crevices, where anything could
hide. Again, silence returned when the
beam was steady but the instant I clicked off the light to
conserve battery, the scraping sound, resumed closer.
Now, unmistakably closer. I clicked the light back on.
And again, silence a cold sweat formed on my neck.
I tried calling out my voice echoing weekly.
Hello, someone there. No answer just Stillness I
listened hoping for some rational explanation an animal
seeking shelter perhaps but deep inside beneath the layer of
forced calm. I knew differently animals made
noises moved predictably whatever this was it was quiet,
patient watching. I slid back toward the entrance
putting distance between myself and that oppressive Darkness.
My instinct screamed to leave, but the storm outside was
unrelenting Sub-Zero wind gusts. Visibility measured in inches if
I stepped outside. Now I'd freeze or fall
guaranteed. I was trapped.
The scraping resumed methodically inching forward
again. Stopping just short of my
flashlights reach. It remained careful cautious
enough not to reveal itself. I Shone my light aggressively
probing, Shadows desperate to prove myself paranoid.
Only rock and emptiness stared back.
Nothing definitive. Just to persistent.
Deliberate presence. I couldn't see, but could sense.
Feeling the caves are with palpable tension.
Hours passed like this. Outside, Darkness swallowed, the
mountain entirely. Inside silent stretched, broken
occasionally by feint movements that stopped whenever I dare to
illuminate the caves interior. It never rushed me, never
revealed itself. Clearly just a dragging sound of
something shifting position. A faint rustling that might be
skin brushing Stone and always those gentle clicks.
Echoing softly off rock walls. I pressed against the Cold Stone
near the entrance. Flash light clenched tightly,
eyes straining, uselessly against Darkness.
I whispered to myself, Half prayers half reassurances.
But the Unseen presence remained patient watching waiting with
infinite calm. By Dawn, when the dim gray light
finally crept toward the cave mouth exhaustion, had worn my
nerves Raw. Every muscle ached from
prolonged tension. With shaking, limbs, I crawled
outside desperate to escape the silent Watcher.
But stopped short in horror just beyond the cave entrance.
Half buried in drifting snow scattered along.
The slope toward the tree line. Lay remnants of hikers, who'd
come before, torn packs, boots frozen into the ground.
A pale skeletal hand protruding grotesquely from beneath a
crusted drift shattered gear shredded clothing, evidence of
struggles long past my stomach, churned bile Rising sharply.
How many had been here? How many had spent their final
hours? Listening watching, Shadows move
slowly closer and was I destined to become another silence,
skeletal Monument? I turned staring back at the
black mouth of the cave. It gaped silently revealing.
Nothing of what lurked inside. The decision wasn't even
conscious. survival took control adrenaline, surging through
exhausted limbs Without another glance behind me.
I plunged downward into the snow.
Covered Forest. Fleeing blindly Terror chasing
close at my heels. My boots sank, deep into the
fresh snow legs aching. As I staggered downhill through
dense Pine's. Breath came in Shallow, painful.
Bursts each exhale, clouding sharply in the freezing air.
I kept glancing back at the caves entrance.
Now just a dark slash of Shadow against White Stone, nothing
emerged, yet the feeling of something watching.
Never lifted. I pressed forward eyes, scanning
the ground for anything familiar.
The storm had altered the landscape overnight, snow buried
every recognizable, landmark. The faint comforting outlines of
Trail markers or footsteps were nowhere.
To be seen, just an endless blanket of white.
About 20 yards down the slope. Something partially buried in a
drift. Caught my eye.
I hesitated then carefully brushed the snow aside.
The sight that greeted me made biles in to my throat, a
tattered backpack crusted with ice and stained dark and patches
sat abandoned in the snow. Beside it.
Lay hiking boots, their leather cracked frozen.
Solid the interior filled with brittle Frost and dried Rusty
stains, unmistakably like blood. A sinking dread filled me as my
gaze, followed more scattered debris, leading away from the
cave entrance. Shards of a metal tent stake,
torn strips of fabric and pieces of a plastic water, bottle
warped and punctured. I moved slowly.
Heart hammering as my attention landed on a drift concealing,
something larger, Push snow away my breath.
Trembling a skeletal hand appeared first, gray, bones
Stark against snow and dirt my stomach Twisted sharply forcing
me to step back shaking, I knelt carefully and examine the
remains. They were not recent but also
not decades old. Bones still showed hints of
sinew dry, but clinging stubbornly.
I found a leather-bound trail Journal edges swollen with
moisture buried next to the bones.
With numb fingers, I flipped carefully through the Warped
Pages. Nearly everything was unreadable
except one short scribbled entry.
It watches all night doesn't eat doesn't leave.
Just Waits My chest tightened breath quickening.
As the chilling words repeated in my mind.
I glanced in voluntarily back at the cave.
It seemed darker now deeper somehow the wind shifted
slightly blowing down from higher, on the mountain carrying
with it. The same faint scraping noise, I
had heard throughout the Endless Night Panic, clawed its way up
my spine. And I Rose abruptly desperate to
put distance between myself and whatever hid within those Rocky
walls, Dropping the journal, I stumbled downward sliding on
patches of ice hidden beneath the snow.
Every step felt awkward clumsy each misstep.
Jolting painfully through my bones yet, no matter how far I
ran the heavy sensation of eyes, remained fixed upon me, boring
into the back of my skull. Shadows seemed to flicker
between trees brief glimpses of elongated shapes and distorted
figures darting just outside my peripheral vision.
My Pace quickened to a reckless run, nearly tripping over
exposed roots and hidden rocks. Keep moving.
I muttered through gritted teeth.
Just get off. This damn Mountain.
After nearly an hour of exhausting directionless
descent. I spotted something else in the
snow shreds of bright Fabrics, snagged and branches, and blood
flaked. Footprints scattered a,
radically along the slope. Someone had fled the same route
before me. Their Trail leading deeper into
the Wilderness away from marked paths or any hope of rescue.
A sharp crack at go through the trees.
I spun around wildly peering through the branches heart,
slamming against my ribs. The forest.
Stood motionless yet. Something felt terribly wrong
above me tree, limbs thick and sturdy had snapped cleanly
splintered ends pointed down, like broken bones.
My eyes traveled upward marks, scarred, the trunk 15 feet above
deep gouges made by clause or blades or something.
Impossibly Sharp. Another crack closer this time,
startled me into a blind Sprint. I pushed through Tangled
branches snow clinging to My Pants and Jacket my lungs,
burned fiercely chest heaving from effort and fear.
As I reached a small clearing, I froze straining to listen.
Silence again, but unnatural heavy, oppressive.
A soft whisper. Floated through the trees
carried faintly on the breeze. My blood ran cold, the voice was
mine. A mocking distorted imitation of
my own words from the cave hours before.
Hello, The Voice called gently echoed mockingly between Frozen
trunks, I forced myself forward stumbling toward a ridge, that
might lead back to the marked Trail below.
My vision blurred with exhaustion and fear
snow-blindness, threatening to overwhelm me branches scraped
across my face and arms, then lines of blood welling up
beneath torn fabric. Something moved ahead visible
for only a fraction of a second. Tall and pale to elongated to be
human. My throat tightened painfully,
the clicking sound returned closer.
Now, rhythmic and methodical. The figure flickered between
trunks, never stepping fully into view.
It circled me silently matching my Pace effortlessly, navigating
terrain, that left me stumbling. I tried to shout but my voice
failed reduced to horse gasps. It paced alongside drawing ever
closer. I felt its gaze upon me.
Despite seeing no eyes. Only glimpses of shadowed
Hollows were eyes should be desperation.
Surged adrenaline flooding my battered muscles, With Reckless,
abandon I Serge downward slipping wildly tumbling
painfully through shrubs and sharp rocks.
My leg caught beneath a hidden root.
And I fell hard rolling uncontrollably into a rocky
Hollow. I lay gasping, ribs aching body,
trembling violently Above the figure, stood, partially
obscured unmoving. Its pale skin stretched tightly
across distorted limbs the skull elongated grotesquely.
Empty sockets staring blankly downward.
Then without warning it withdrew into the Shadows.
Once more, the clicking fading, gradually until silence.
Reclaimed the forest, For several minutes.
I dared not move. Certain it would return if I
showed any sign of Life, finally, I Rose shakily tears
mixing with blood and sweat. As I pressed onward, my path was
uncertain. The snow impossibly deep, but
one thing was clear. I was no longer just lost.
I was hunted. Every shadow became a threat.
As I stumbled downward half running half falling through the
thickening, Forest branches whipped past my face.
Slicing my skin, my breath came ragged and shallow each.
Inhale feeling like fire. Yet.
Nothing could drown out the sound of something paralleling.
My every move, an occasional cracking of branches.
Deliberate yet. Stealthy matching, my pace
through dense underbrush. I risked a glance behind me.
There just a flicker between snow late and Pine's a pale,
limb impossibly thin vanished silently.
My heart lurched adrenaline. Surging painfully through my
veins, I turned away sharply sprinting again despite the
Searing pain in my muscles, my limbs numb and sluggish from
exhaustion and cold, the court downward Twisted chaotically any
clear sense of direction vanished entirely beneath snow
in panic. Still I forced myself on blindly
trusting instinct. I recognized glimpses of
familiar, terrain, half buried, Boulders, Frozen streams that
Twisted downward toward Avalanche pass.
If I reach the pass, I could follow familiar, landmarks down
to Marcy Dam, and from there to the ranger station and safety.
It was a thin hope but it drove me forward.
The forest thickened around me, Shadows, deepening under dense,
stands of spruce. Ahead movement flickered through
the trees, a pale elongated shape.
Darting effortlessly between trunks I halted abruptly
slipping to one knee. As my boot hid hidden, ice
beneath the snow. My breathing became shallow and
panicked freezing Mist hanging before me as I stared into the
Gloom. It watched from behind a tall.
Dead Pine, partially Hidden impossibly Still its body seemed
elongated Beyond Reason, limbs spindly bones prominent beneath
pale modeled skin. Its skull stretched grotesquely
Hollow sockets, gazing with Without Eyes, yet, somehow
clearly locked onto me. A clicking sound rhythmic and
steady echoed. Softly an unsettling metronome,
amidst the oppressive quiet. Fear rooted me to the spot.
For long seconds, neither of us moved.
It just watched patient and quiet, assessing me, perhaps,
savoring the moment then it stepped forward, a jerky
unnatural motion, body bending and shifting as though joints
and limbs were unfamiliar constraints.
Terror snapped me from paralysis.
I bolted. Downward blind panic,
overwhelming, fatigue and pain. My legs churned through snow and
brush heedless of sharp branches or hidden obstacles.
Behind it. Moved fluidly limbs cracking
branches effortlessly Pace measured and relentless A sharp
animalistic scream, high pitched and reverberating shattered, the
silence behind me. It echoed hauntingly through the
valley driving me faster. Still ahead the terrain broke
into open Rocky. Slope's a familiar stretch
leading down toward Avalanche pass.
Hope surge desperately driving fresh energy into my limbs.
I sprinted recklessly slipping repeatedly catching myself at
the last moment each time. Sharp Granite tore through my
gloves, skin. Scraping raw, but I refuse to
slow down. I couldn't.
At the pass, I caught sight of the frozen lake surface
glittering and pale winter sunlight.
My heart lept painfully. I was close.
So close to Trails safety to people. the thought, propelled
me forward lungs burning every muscle protesting, Yet, as I
sprinted across open ground, it appeared again blocking my path
ahead it. Stood silently motionless on the
shoreline its elongated frame impossibly still my steps.
Faltered I hesitated Panic gripping me again.
Then slowly it moved forward. Head cocked at an unnatural
angle as if studying my reaction with detached curiosity.
I had no choice left to stop now.
Meant death. Instead I veered sharply toward
the frozen lake boots crunching onto ice praying desperately.
It was thick enough. Cracks formed beneath each step
ominous growns rising from the Frozen surface as Iran.
The figure halted abruptly at the Isis Edge watching silently.
As I raced recklessly toward the distant Shoreline I stumbled
ashore breath, rasping harshly legs trembling so violently I
could barely stand. Still I dragged myself forward
weaving, through dense, trees, until miraculously a familiar.
Wooden sign, appeared ahead, Marcy Dam, 0.5 miles tears.
Stung my eyes relief, flooding through my battered body,
Footprints appeared along the trail ahead fresh and human my
vision blurred from exhaustion and emotion.
Voices, sounded nearby distant, but unmistakably real hikers
chatting casually oblivious to the nightmare.
I just escaped. I glanced once more behind me.
The creature lingered at the forest edge.
Partially obscured by Shadows silent and patient.
For a moment. It Stood Still head, angled
slightly as though memorizing, my Escape Route, then slowly
silently, it stepped backward, disappearing into the darkening
Woods. I staggered forward.
Voice cracking weekly, as I shouted Horsley toward the
hikers. Faces turned toward me, startled
and concerned. Hands reached out catching me as
I collapsed into trembling sobbing relief.
Later in the warmth and safety of the ranger station, blankets
wrapped tightly around me. I recounted the story
desperately Rangers listened skeptically, exchanging glances
filled with doubt and concern. When they investigated days
later, they found the cave in my abandoned gear.
But the bones, the scattered remnants, I'd stumbled upon had
vanished entirely. No claw marks.
No Footprints other than mine. My camera revealed, nothing
either only blurred shots of snow and trees.
No proof of the horror I'd endured exhaustion and
hypothermia. They concluded exchanging
sympathetic nods, hallucinations from exposure.
But as I gather my belongings Days Later preparing to leave, I
noticed something tucked within the pages of my notebook, my
fingers trembled, as I unfolded the small worn piece of paper,
it wasn't mine but the handwriting was clear and
unmistakable, you left But it knows the way down now.
A chill settled into my bones deeper than the Mountains Cold
had ever penetrated. I knew with terrible certainty,
it was watching still waiting. Patient has ever The Boundary
Waters canoe area Wilderness in northern Minnesota, is the kind
of place that promises Solitude. The kind of quiet.
You can't find anywhere else covering over a million Acres.
It's a wild Mosaic of lakes streams, Granite Cliffs and
thick boreal forests. All intertwined in a maze that
makes Maps feel like mere suggestions.
Out here. There's no cell service, no easy
rescue. The only sounds come from the
Wilderness itself loons, calling Over Misty, Lake's, the distance
splash of moose and entering shallow water.
The rustle of wind through Pine's, I had always loved it.
Until that trip with Tyler. My young younger brother and I
had drifted apart over the years.
Tyler had moved away for college and never came back home,
trading. Our shared outdoorsy upbringing
for a career in Tech. When he agreed to join me on a
late season canoe trip deep into the Boundary Waters.
I thought it might be the perfect chance to reconnect.
You started early pushing off from Lake Agnes just after
sunrise. The Autumn air was cool and
crisp by biting lightly at our faces.
While a thin fog rolled gently across the surface of the water.
We paddled in silence through narrow passages, that cut
between steep Granite walls, their surfaces slick and moss
covered Our canoes slipped smoothly over water.
So clear we could see trout gliding through the Shadows
below us. After several hours, we reached
Boulder Bay setting up camp on a narrow strip of land that jutted
into the lake. Towering Pines and closed us
their branches thick enough to obscure the sky.
I remember the feeling of isolation being comforting at
first, No cell phones. Buzzing.
No distant highways humming just raw wilderness.
As Darkness fell. We built a small fire and eight
dinner quietly. Tyler.
Poked at his plate of freeze-dried stew, glancing,
nervously at the encroaching, Blackness beyond our firelight
you good. I asked him.
He Shrugged just not used to being this disconnected, I
guess. I laughed at all, trying to ease
his tension. But deep down, I sensed it too.
A subtle unease settling into my bones.
Amplified by the oppressive quiet.
We turned in early retreating to our tent.
As night wrapped, around us sleep, eluded me.
I lay there, listening to The Faint lapping of water against
rock. My sense is alert despite my
exhaustion. It was sometime after midnight,
when the splashing started. At first, I assumed it was just
Wildlife. Perhaps a beaver or an otter.
Skirting, the shallows But the noise persisted rhythmic and
deliberate. Too.
Heavy, too consistent like footsteps?
Tyler sat up sharply beside me, you hear that?
His voice was barely above a whisper taught with fear
probably just a moose. I whispered back trying to
reassure my self as much as him but then it stopped abruptly.
And unsettling Stillness settled in like the Wilderness itself
was holding its breath. I reached slowly for the tent
zipper, heart pounding, as I eased at open peering out into
the moonlit Darkness. The shore was empty, still the
water, lay flat and calm reflecting faint Starlight.
I stepped out cautiously flash light in hand and scan the
shoreline but there was nothing there.
Just dark Waters, stretching out into shadowy Forest.
Tyler hovered at the tent, entrance eyes wide.
There's nothing out here. I called back my voice thin and
unconvincing even to me the following morning, a heavy Mist
clung to the lake surface obscuring, everything Beyond a
few dozen feet, I walked down to the shore to refill, our water
bottles and that's when I noticed them a set of long
claw-like Impressions, press deep into the soft mud, I
crouched examining the prince They were unlike any animal
tracks I'd ever encountered narrow and elongated
disturbingly deep. My pulse quickened.
Jake, Tyler called from Camp breaking my focus.
I stood quickly wiping. Sweat from my forehead, despite
the chill in the air. What is it?
He asked noticing my expression as he joined me by the water.
I shook my head, unsure, what to say?
Just some animal tracks, nothing to worry about, Tyler stared
down at the prince face pale. Those don't look normal, man.
I nodded slowly scanning the Misty Lake again now.
Acutely aware of just how vulnerable we were out here.
Miles from help with nothing but a canoe.
And a thin layer of nylon between us and whatever left
those tracks. A sudden irrational feeling
settled deep in my gut. We weren't alone, we broke Camp,
hastily packing, our Gear with silent urgency.
Tyler was visibly, rattled hands, trembling as he shoved
sleeping bags and cookware into his pack, my own heartbeat
drummed, in my ears. As we loaded the canoe and
launched swiftly onto the water, aiming East toward Boulder
River, I told myself moving would ease our nerves create
distance from what ever had visited us Deep down though, a
nagging sense of dread was steadily tightening around my
chest. We paddled quietly through the
morning, fog our paddles, cutting the Lake's surface with
gentle splashes. Tyler sat behind me occasionally
glancing back at the shoreline eyes narrowed in anxious
vigilance, neither of us. Spoke much we both understood
without needing to say it that something was deeply Wrong by
midday. The fog began to thin replaced
by low-hanging clouds that cast the forest in a gloomy
half-light. Thick Pine stood shoulder to
shoulder along Rocky, shorelines.
Pressing in tightly as we navigated into the river
Channel, connecting the Lake's. I felt strangely claustrophobic.
The narrow passage was shadowed and still filled with tangled
Fallen trees and submerged Boulders that scraped ominously
along, our canoes Hull suddenly, Tyler stiffened behind me.
Jake, he whispered sharply over there.
I stopped paddling my breath catching as I followed his gaze
toward a distant Inlet, Where the River widened, briefly, my
heart hammered, Standing silently knee.
Deep in the water was a figure. Thin pale.
Impossibly gone. Its skin seemed almost
translucent. A sickly white tone that stood
out vividly against the dark water and dense evergreen's
behind it. It didn't move.
It didn't blink. It simply watched us still as a
statue. I swallowed hard feeling a
chill, traveled, slowly down my spine.
Let's keep moving. I murmured resuming paddling at
a faster pace. Tyler's paddles sliced,
nervously through the water behind me.
We reached a small secluded Lake by late afternoon miles from our
last campsite as we unloaded Tyler was visibly shaken.
Darting glances toward the surrounding trees.
You see how it looked at us. He asked Voice, Low and
strained. Yeah, I admitted reluctantly
unable to shake the unsettling image, but it was probably just
some weird local out here messing around.
Tyler shook his head unconvinced that wasn't human Jake.
I busied myself Building A Fire, ignoring the growing knot of
dread in my stomach. Darkness descended swiftly the
woods closing in around our small campsite Tyler refused to
sit by the fire retreating to the tent as soon as it was
pitched. I stayed out a while longer
years straining at every rustle and crackle from the forest.
hours later, jolted awake, by Tyler's frantic Whisperers, I
heard it clearly something was moving through our campsite It
was slow and deliberate the sound of wet feet, pressing into
soft ground, my throat tightened, as I fumbled for my
flashlight the beam pierced through the thin tent walls.
Illuminating a distorted silhouette.
I couldn't breathe, just beyond the edge of our campsite stood.
The pale figure half obscured by Shadow dripping with water its
elongated limbs hung limply by its sides and its eyes wide
glassy and empty reflected back at us.
Tyler, grabbed my arm tightly shaking uncontrollably.
What does it want? He hissed.
I couldn't answer Frozen in place.
I watched as the figure slowly backed away disappearing into
the darkness. Minutes stretched on impossibly
Long. When I finally found the courage
to step out the campsite was empty.
But the ground around our tent was dotted.
With shallow watery, Footprints surrounding us completely.
At first light, I stumbled toward the canoe desperate to
leave immediately. My stomach turned violently as I
stared down in horror, the canoe was filled with murky foul,
smelling water, and clumps of black greasy, hair floating at
the surface, my chest tightened as Panic flooded through me
Jake. Tyler stood, Frozen behind me
his voice. Quivering.
How are we going to get out of here now?
I stared blankly Paralyzed by the Grim realization of just how
trapped we were. The pale one was hunting us and
Escape was slipping rapidly through our fingers.
We abandoned the canoe leaving it half submerged and festering
on the shoreline and made a desperate break Inland through
dense forest. Tyler's eyes were wide wild with
fear, mirroring The Dread, pulsing relentlessly in my
chest. The forest closed around us like
a dark green Vice branches clawing at our faces and clothes
as we pushed through Tangled underbrush.
Step, we took deeper into the woods, felt more uncertain,
every rustle in the, foliage behind us, fueling my paranoia.
Hours passed in silence punctuated.
Only by our ragged breathing in the occasional snap of branches
under foot. Eventually, we stumbled onto a
forgotten campsite tucked in a small clearing, its remains
charred and Scattered torn fabric hung limply from snapped
tent poles, and deep gouges ran along nearby tree trunks.
Tyler's face drained of color. Jake, look at this place.
My heart Twisted painfully. As I scan the site at the base
of One Tree, I found a weather beaten Journal, half, buried
beneath fallen leaves. Kneeling down.
I flipped through its brittle Pages, the entries were frantic
disjointed. The handwriting becoming
increasingly erratic panicked, one phrase, stood out vividly a
pale face rising from the water. It comes at night, it walks
across the lake. We need to keep moving.
I muttered shoving the journal into my pocket that evening as
rain, began to fall in steady, cold sheets, Tyler slipped on a
slick, log and collapsed hard onto Rocky.
Terrain crying out sharply. I knelt beside him quickly dread
Rising. As I saw the Twisted angle of
his ankle. I, I can't, he gasped clutching
at his leg face contorted in pain.
My stomach churned Panic clawing up, my throat.
Darkness was settling around us quickly.
I glanced around desperately spotting, a fallen Pine with
thick, boughs nearby, dragging, Tyler.
We fashioned a crude shelter from branches and tarps huddling
together. In fearful silence as night,
fully engulfed us, Sleep was impossible.
Hours later through a gap in our makeshift shelter.
I saw movement at the edge of the clearing.
A pale shape crawled slowly from the dark bog nearby, dragging
something heavy behind it. A grotesque Mass bloated, limbs
splayed, awkwardly followed the creature across the muddy
ground. It paused briefly, head
swiveling, toward our hiding spot.
Those same lifeless eyes reflecting faintly in the
Moonlight. My heart hammered painfully in
my chest. I held my breath hand gripping.
Tyler's wrist, tightly, urging him, silently to stay quiet.
Finally, the creature turned away.
Disappearing into the Shadows Beyond.
At first light, we staggered forward through fogs so thick,
it's smothered the forest around us.
Tyler limped heavily against my shoulder, his breath shallow and
strained. Every step was Agony for him,
yet. Neither of us.
Dared, stop. I navigated using a faded Old
Forest Service map, clinging desperately, to the hope of a
ranger Outpost marked faintly along a distant Ridge.
The fog eventually began to thin as we climbed upward.
Tyler stumbled beside me. Mumbling, incoherently eyes,
glazed, from Pain, and exhaustion.
As we crested the ridge, a strange feeling of relief washed
over me. I stopped abruptly.
Jake, Tyler's voice was weak, confused.
Etched clearly into the granite rocks.
Before us were faded ancient pictographs stylized figures
men. Fleeing across water strange,
elongated beings emerging from Lakes.
My fingers brushed lightly against one cymbal that stood
out starkly a marking. Unlike the others carved.
Deep and bold, it felt oddly reassuring.
As we moved Beyond The Ridge, an eerie calm settled over the
forest. No more.
Snapping Twigs, no more rustling leaves.
It was as if whatever Pursuit us couldnt or wooden follow any
further. A few desperate aching hours
later the trees, parted suddenly to reveal the shape of a small
Forest Service cabin, weatherred and gray.
I nearly collapsed with relief as we stumbled onto its porch
pounding weekly on the locked door, Tyler sank to the ground.
Sobbing quietly, with relief and exhaustion inside, I found a
battered emergency radio. My voice trembling is.
I relate our coordinates. As I waited for a response, my
mind drifted back to that pale creature standing Motionless in
the lake, whatever it was, it would haunt me forever.
But at least for now we were safe.
I grew up hunting the Allegheny National Forest.
My Uncle Greg showed me these Woods, when I was barely tall
enough to see over the Briars teaching me to recognize deer
sign how to move quietly and how to respect the Deep Stillness of
wild places. Over the years.
I learned every Ridge, every Halo, every Creek Crossing, but
I'd never ventured past Minister Creek alone, never pushed this
far into the old growth stands. Where the Pines grew dense and
sunlight struggled to penetrate the canopy.
Something had always held me back.
Stories whispered at the beach shop in the local bar Tales of
gutted, deer left untouched by scavengers Hunters, hearing
impossible, calls echoing from the darkness.
Something inhuman mimicking familiar voices.
I always dismissed as folklore. Until that weekend, it was late
November, just days before firearm season officially
opened. Frost clung to the edges of
fallen leaves crunching lightly, beneath my boots.
My breath, missed it in the chili are as I navigated.
The faint, remnants of a Logging Road eyes, alert for movement.
My trail cam had caught a large Buck 8 points and thick bodied
and I'd made up my mind that this was my season to bring him
home. A mile into the woods far from
the nearest marked Trail. I found my first sign hoofprints
deeper, and broader than usual pressed cleanly into the soft
Earth. I knelt down to study them.
Puzzled, the tracks didn't match any white tail.
I'd tracked before the spacing was off.
The Hooves played too wide too large.
Odd. But my mind settled quickly on a
rational explanation. Probably a buck running hard
startled by something. I followed the tracks through
the thinning trees toward the top of a ridge, overlooking a
Steep Ravine. The prince led me to snap to
twigs branches splintered as if something heavy had forced its
way through on one tree trunk, a tough to fur had snagged, a
dirty Brown Clump dangling, in the breeze.
I rubbed it between my fingers confused, again, it felt wiring
course, dear first certainly, but somehow wrong the forest in
slowly. As the sun lowered toward the
Horizon stretching Shadows are the ground.
The air was perfectly still eerily quiet, no rustling
leaves, no Birdsong. I stood to stretch my stiffening
legs and that's when the silence broke.
From somewhere, deep in the Halo below, a high-pitched bleeding
shattered. The evening calm the
unmistakable Cry of a fawn in distress.
My instinct stirred on easily. Fawns weren't this young by late
Autumn and the cry itself felt unnatural to shrill to drawn
out. Still Instinct kicked in.
Driving me cautiously forward down into the ravine.
As I moved the hoof prints can continue to head, but gradually
changed. I paused disbelief, clouding, my
senses, as I knelt again to examine the marks closely, the
Hooves had lengthened reshaped morphing from Deep heavy
indentations in to something narrower and elongated.
My gut tightened sharply when I realized what I was looking at
footprints. Bear Footprints human like, but
ending in pointed claws. Digging sharply into the damp
Earth. My heart accelerated cold dread
pooling in my chest. Every story I had ever scoffed
at now flooded back clawing at the edge of my rational mind my
fingers tightened around my rifle.
I had to get out immediately. I stood quickly spinning around
toward the slope by descended but nothing looked familiar.
The trees felt thicker Twisted strangely as if they'd shifted
while I studied the prince. I pulled out my GPS, trying to
ignore the Tremor in my hands. The device flickered.
Glitched showed me standing in an open clearing when I was
clearly surrounded by dense Pines.
Useless. Another bleat pierced the
Gathering Darkness closer now. This time, it wasn't just
shrill. It was lower distorted.
Almost as if someone were trying to mimic a wounded deer but
couldn't quite get it right. My skin crawled, every nerve
screaming danger. I lifted my rifle chambered
around backing slowly away from the source of the noise.
Another glance at the strange Footprints.
Made it clear. They were not random.
They were deliberate measured Pace toward the direction.
I just come from the direction. I had intended to go.
The sudden sickening Clarity hit me.
I was being led herded into confusion.
Night closed in swiftly, Shadows merging into darkness, my
breathing echoed raggedly in my ears as I scan desperately for
any Landmark. Any recognizable feature Panic
bloomed, cold and heavy inside my chest.
The unnatural bleeding stopped abruptly, leaving silence, so
oppressive. I feared even the sound of my
breathing might betray me. A twig snapped, loudly to my
left breaking, the oppressive quiet.
I froze rifle aimed finger curled tightly around the
trigger. My eyes strained against the
growing Gloom searching for movement.
But the forest revealed nothing, no shape, no silhouette.
Only the quiet taunting. Me daring me to break it.
My chest tightened every muscle coiled in anticipation.
Whatever was out, there was patient playing with me waiting.
The realization settled over me like an icy shroud.
I wasn't the hunter anymore. I was prey Darkness, swallowed
the forest hole reducing everything around me to murky
shapes and shifting Shadows. My heartbeat drummed, loudly in
my ears as I fought to control my breathing to steady myself
against the Panic clawing at my inside's, the sense of direction
I had always relied on, had abandoned me completely each
tree, each Bush, each Contour of the land was foreign.
Now I reached for my headlamp hesitating only briefly before
clicking it on. A faint pale beam illuminated, a
narrow circle of ground ahead of me.
Just enough to move cautiously without stumbling.
I crept forward carefully. Retracing what?
I hoped were my own footsteps. The clawed Footprints continued
to appear intermittently weaving in and out of my path.
As if whatever left them was shadowing, me closely silently
always just beyond sight. every now and then I had paused to
listen desperately hoping for any familiar sound and owls
distant Hoot, the rustle of a small animal but the woods
remained unnaturally silent as if holding their breath The
Stillness, felt heavy oppressive oppressing, against my
shoulders. I tried the GPS.
Again, jabbing buttons and frustration, but the device
stubbornly refused to cooperate the screen flickering and
useless. Something cracked loudly off to
my right. Close enough to make me flinch.
I swung my rifle toward the noise, my breath Frozen in my
throat. Another sound, followed
branches, snapping under brush rustling.
Violently I clicked off the headlamp, plunging myself, into
complete darkness gripping. My rifle.
Tightly in the Blackness of shape.
Moved a quick fluid blur. Passing between two distant
trees. my eyes strained desperate to catch more detail,
but the figure was too quick slipping through the Gloom
effortlessly, It was tall impossibly thin and seemed
strangely pale. I caught the briefest glimpse of
antlers long and gnarled protruding from what appeared to
be a human, like head. My pulse thundered harder.
As I waited Frozen, the things circled slowly deliberately it
stayed at the edge of my vision, just far enough away that I
could barely track its movements.
My finger twitched against the trigger debating, whether a shot
might scare it away or Draw It closer, I held my breath torn by
indecision, suddenly a sound echoed through the night, a low
guttural imitation of a Bucksnort, rough and strained,
not quite right. It was too deep.
Too ragged, distorted enough to make the hair stand, on the back
of my neck. My blood went cold as it
repeated, the noise, varying slightly each time as though
experimenting with its mimicry learning as it went the
realization struck me hard. Whatever this creature was it
was intelligent observant and patient.
My legs trembled forcing me to move to get away from the noise.
But every step I took felt uncertain directionless, every
tree looked identical, every shadow menacing time stretched,
endlessly minutes, felt like hours.
Eventually my boots touched ground that sloped upward.
I moved quicker. Hoping Higher Ground would
Orient me. Near the top of the slope.
I found a sturdy Pine with low accessible branches.
I climbed awkwardly rifle slung across my back.
Careful. Not to slip and injure myself in
the Darkness. Settling into a perch 10 feet
up. I tried to regain some sense of
control, at least up here. I felt safer, unreachable.
I pressed my back against the rough.
Trunk eyes, searching below, listening minutes, passed, then
an hour, the night stretched on silent.
Once again loling me into exhaustion, just as my eyes,
grew heavy something moved at the edge of my sight.
Below at the base of the tree. A pale figure stepped quietly
into view. My heart lurched violently
against my ribs. I held my breath unwilling even
to Blink the creature stood tall horribly emaciated.
Its limbs thin but sinewy Its skin stretched taught over a
frame that seemed skeletal its head was tilted upward.
Staring directly at me, it's face half hidden beneath a
grotesque merging of bone and flesh.
A deer skull sat atop its head. Antlers protruding sharply
blending grotesquely into something disturbingly.
Human its jaw hung unnaturally open.
Mouth a gape, lips peeled back revealing teeth that gleam
sharply in the pale. Moonlight My chest burned with
the effort of staying perfectly still desperate not to betray my
location more than I already. Had.
The creature made no move to climb but its eyes or whatever
passed for them in the Deep sockets beneath the skull never
wavered from my position. It's breathing matched my own
slow. Deliberate unnerving
synchronized. Every inhale and exhale
mimicked. Mine precisely as though mocking
me. I held the rifle gripping it,
tightly my finger tense and ready.
But I knew deep down it would do little against something like
this. The thing didn't seem concerned
by my presence or my weapon. It seemed merely to study
curious. Waiting deliberate in his
calmness. After what felt like an
eternity, the creature turned away, melting back into the
dark. I stayed frozen every muscle
screaming with tension until long after it vanished.
Only when the first faint glow of dawn began to break through
the trees that I dare to climb down my limbs weak and shaky.
When I finally reached Camp, my stomach lurched with, Dread my
tent, lay shredded belonging scattered, and torn.
The ground was trampled with dozens of hoof prints claw
marks, enter woven amongst them, panics surged fresh through me.
These prints didn't lead away into the forest.
They pointed directly toward the narrow Trail.
Leading to my truck. My hands trembled.
As I lifted my rifle and started forward desperate to leave this
cursed place behind but as I reached the head of the trail I
froze, again a fresh set of elongated Footprints.
LED forward. Along my route moving
deliberately ahead of me waiting patiently.
Ready to guide me deeper into a trap by now knew I might never
Escape. The great Dawn light filtered
through the forest, canopy casting everything in a muted
pale Haze. My heart hadn't slowed since to
sending from that tree and adrenaline flooded, my
bloodstream, with every step, I took toward the trailhead, each
breath felt ragged and insufficient my lungs burning
from the hours spent holding them.
Shallowly afraid to disturb the forests on natural silence.
I moved cautiously stepping around Fallen branches and thick
Tangles of underbrush. The clawed Footprints can
continue to appear ahead of me. Leading, steadily in the
direction, of my truck, occasionally, fading only to
reappear again further along Each set marked my progress
tauntingly fresh as though deliberately placed their
moments before I arrived. It felt calculated measured to
ensure I knew I wasn't alone. Halfway back the path, widened
revealing a small clearing at its Center.
Stood, a hunting blind. One of those camouflaged pop-ups
that Hunters often set up before the season. but it had been
ripped apart the fabric shredded into ribbons, metal poles, bent
and twisted, as if by immense strength, My stomach churned as
I approached slowly rifle at the ready fearing what I might find
inside there was no body thankfully but the damage was
enough to make my throat tighten a trail camera lay embedded in
the trunk of a nearby Pine it's hard plastic casing cracked,
open Battery, spilling out onto the ground, deep grooves, marked
the surface unmistakably from teeth, sharp powerful.
Jaws that bit through plastic and metal, like, it was nothing.
I staggered away from the blind mind racing my boots crunching
loudly against dry leaves, I couldn't slow my breathing
couldn't shake the gnawing dread that crawled beneath my skin.
Urging me to run. As the sky clouded further Mist
began to roll silently through the trees enveloping everything
in a disorienting fog. Familiar landmarks blurred
Twisted, vanished altogether. Panic Rose in me.
Again, my senses betraying me completely.
As I stumbled forward, trying desperately to stay true to the
direction I knew would lead to my truck, then a shape loomed
from the Mist ahead. I stopped heart pounding
painfully against my ribs. It was a deer hanging upside
down from a sturdy Branch its belly, sliced, open inside,
scooped clean. The hollow cavity stuffed
crudely with dead leaves and twigs.
The carcass swung gently in the breeze grotesque and unnatural a
shiver ran down my spine. As I moved cautiously around it
refusing to look back eyes. Fixed on the faint Trail ahead.
But the moment I turned away a voice echoed from the fog, clear
and chilling. My voice.
It called my own name softly in a hesitant tone.
As if unsure practicing Derek Derek I whipped around rifle
raised eyes scanning frantically.
Through the grey fog. Who's there?
My shout? Sounded Hollow strained.
The Voice didn't answer at least not directly.
Instead another voice spoke deep familiar hauntingly.
Clear. It was Uncle Greg.
His voice unmistakable but distant echoing strangely
through the trees. Derek.
Keep moving boy, don't stop now. I staggered backward breath
hitching sharply. My uncle had died last year, I'd
Stood Beside his grave. I had lowered him into the Earth
but there it was. Again, calm and reassuring
exactly how I remembered. Follow me, Derek.
It's just ahead. No.
I shouted my voice cracking frantic.
Now you're not real. Leave me alone.
I turned and sprinted through the fog rifle grip.
Tightly stumbling pushing blindly forward until I emerged
suddenly into the trailhead. Clearing my battered, pickups
sat exactly where I had left it a comforting shape, even in the
Mist relief flooded me, momentarily, washing away the
fear, I raced toward it boots crunching.
Gravel only to Skid to a halt. All four tires were shredded
gouged. Deeply rubber torn open as if by
giant claws. My heart sank stomach.
Twisting into a sick knot, I scan the empty parking area.
Wildly my breathing harsh and uneven.
There was no sign of the creature, no sound only silence.
With trembling fingers, I unlocked the truck and climbed
quickly inside. Locking the doors behind me.
I lay low on the front seat gripping my rifle as I tried to
calm my shaking body. My eyes strained against the
windows waiting for something. To emerge from the fog.
Certain it would appear any moment.
Minutes stretched painfully agonizingly long.
Then a scraping sound whispered across the metal Something moved
slowly deliberately around the vehicle.
Sharp claws. Tracing delicate lines in the
paint. My pulse thundered in my ears,
sweat dripping down my face, then came a soft tapping gentle,
but insistent on the glass mimicking a careful.
Knock, I squeezed my eyes, shut gripping, the rifle tighter
preparing myself for whatever, might come next, Suddenly from
deep within the fog, shrouded Forest a piercing horrific,
scream, erupted, mingling animal Agony and something else.
Entirely. It echoed through the trees,
vibrating painfully in my chest, louder and more anguish than
anything. I'd ever heard my finger curled
around the trigger. Ready to fire the last round if
needed. Then, impossibly headlights
sliced through the Gloom bathing the truck and clearing in Starke
illumination. A fish and wildlife pickup
emerged slowly from the fog tires crunching.
Gravel the lights revealed? Nothing.
No figure, no creature. Just empty trees and Mists
swirling harmlessly away. I scrambled out of the truck.
Barely managing to stand. Upright waving frantically as
the ranger parked and stepped calmly from his vehicle studying
me with wary eyes. You all right?
He called out cautiously I hesitated glancing at my
shredded tires, the Deep claw marks gouged into the metal body
of my truck. Then, back at the silent empty
Forest. I I got lost.
I stamd weekly voice trembling something was out here, the
ranger glanced at the damage. Then noted slowly, almost
knowingly, he didn't ask questions, didn't press for
details, simply motion for me to get in his truck.
Come on. He said, quietly, let's get you
out of here. As we drove away.
Leaving my ruined truck behind. I stared silently out the window
into the Mist shrouded Woods. The trees passed in a blur.
My mind numb with relief and Dread.
I knew, I'd never returned to this place.
Would never hunt again, yet. Somehow I knew that wouldn't be
enough. Because even now staring blankly
into those shifting Shadows. I heard it again faint distant
unmistakable. The tortured bleeding of a Dying
Fawn echoing softly from the woods just beyond the road.
I've always felt most at home, when surrounded by Wilderness,
especially places far off the beaten path. living in San
Francisco, meant being surrounded by noise building's
and people too much of everything except solitude
That's why I often escaped into the mountains.
Whenever my photography job allowed, particularly favoring
the Grandeur and isolation of Yosemite National Park.
Over the years, I'd explored nearly every corner of the
sprawling Wilderness except for one elusive place that had
always back in clouds rest. I set out from the Sunrise Lakes
Trailhead. Just after Dawn, my pack,
comfortably loaded with gear and enough food for a single
overnight. Stay I had no intention of
lingering just enough time to soak in the silence capture,
photographs of half, domes iconic, profile and enjoy a
night of serene Solitude beneath the stars.
The morning air was crisp carrying the clean.
Scent of pine needles and Sun warmed.
Granite. I moved easily along the trail.
My boots softly crunching dried leaves as sunlight filtered down
through tall, ancient trees. After the first hour, I paused
to drink water and adjust my gear.
That's when I first noticed, them enormous Footprints pressed
deeply into the Earth beside the trail.
They were bare human-like, but massive easily twice the size of
my own boot prints. My initial thought was that
another adventurous hiker had decided to travel Barefoot,
though. It seemed oddly Reckless.
Still people, sometimes did peculiar things in nature.
I took a quick photo out of curiosity and moved on
dismissing, it as nothing, more than an oddity.
But as the morning stretched toward noon, those Footprints
kept pace with mine unwavering and parallel always at the
trails Edge as if someone was deliberately avoiding being
directly on the path. I stopped several times.
Calling out tentative, greetings into the quiet, Forest
expecting. Maybe a fellow Trekker would
sheepishly emerge from the trees with an explanation.
No response ever came. Just silence.
Unease stirred Within Me growing steadily with each passing mile.
Around midday while taking photos of Half Dome against a
cloudless sky movement. Flickered at the edge of my
vision. I swung my camera toward the
tree line, trying to catch whatever it was, my breath
caught in my throat. When I glimpsed something huge
stepping effortlessly behind the shelter of a thick red fur.
It vanished quickly, but not before I caught sight of broad
shoulders covered in dark. Shaggy fur a bear, perhaps My
pulse quickened. Bears were common enough here
but something about the way it moved.
Was undeniably upright and purposeful utterly unlike the
lumbering of any bears seen before.
Forcing call. I scan the trees cautiously
calling out again. My voice echoed hollowly
swallowed by the endless walls of forest again, only silence
replied nervous. But determined, I continued
onward, though. My early in enthusiasm was now
shadowed by a creeping sense of vulnerability.
Every rustle in the brush, every snap of Twigs seemed Amplified.
The beauty of the landscape was becoming secondary to a rising
anxiety. By late afternoon, exhaustion
mingled with adrenaline. As I finally arrived at the
secluded. Campsite, I chosen ahead of
time. It was nestled in a small
clearing at the foot of clouds. Rest shielded by low granite
outcroppings. I quickly set up camp pitching
my tent and starting a modest fire to keep animals at Bay.
The sun, dipped rapidly bathing everything in fiery Hughes which
deepened my sense of isolation. Sitting near the Flames, I tried
to convince myself. I had imagined the strange
figure and its enormous footprints.
Yet a part of me one, I couldn't easily dismiss felt something
watching studying me from just beyond the flickering edge of
firelight Nightfall brought with it, a profound Stillness, as if
the forest itself held its breath.
And then, from somewhere close in the surrounding dark, I heard
the distinct deliberate snapping of branches heavy and slow
moving methodically around my campsite whatever was out there.
Had followed me here and I was certain now, it wasn't a bear.
I stared hard into the Blackness gripping.
My flashlight pulse hammering in my ears.
My throat tightened as I recognized a sound just beyond
the firelight deep rhythmic breathing, the shadow shifted
again. Something massive stood just
beyond sight patiently waiting. And it knew I had nowhere else
to run. I sat Frozen beside my fire, my
flashlight gripped, tightly, and trembling fingers.
Sweat cooled uncomfortably against my neck as the night
seemed to press in from all sides.
The presence I'd sensed before dusk had returned heavy,
deliberate movements. Now, unmistakably circling my
small camp. Every few moments, I'd hear the
faint crackle of dry leaves or the soft Shuffle of something,
large shifting, its weight. Whatever it was, it stayed just
beyond the edge of firelight careful never to reveal itself.
I strained my eyes into the darkness desperate for clarity
desperate for confirmation that I wasn't losing my mind.
Hello. I called again my voice breaking
slightly. He was there.
Only silence responded, a silence broke in periodically by
the careful footfalls of something heavy and deliberate
moving. Just beyond sight.
The fire crackled softly providing a small island of
warmth and light that felt distressingly insufficient
against the vast Darkness. A twig snapped.
Sharply this time closer startling me into action.
I swung the flashlight beam toward the sound.
For an instant, the light caught the outline of something.
Immense a broad shouldered silhouette partially obscured
behind a tall cluster of trees. Dark Furs and briefly under the
flashlight's beam before the figure swiftly withdrew into
shadow. My breath caught painful in my
chest, heart hammering. So loudly, I could hear nothing
else. It was watching me waiting.
But, for what? Was it curious or was it hungry
my mind raced through possibilities.
Each scenario darker than the last.
Several tents passed punctuated by the occasional crunch of
branches under heavy footsteps. The figure continued its slow.
Deliberate orbit. Maintaining an agonizingly
steady distance. Then from somewhere to my left
alone, sound drifted through the darkness.
A deep breathy, Huff halfway between a grunt and an
exhalation. The sound wasn't threatening
exactly but it was unquestionably intelligent
controlled like it was testing my response.
My pulse surged. Stay back.
I shouted standing suddenly waving my flash light
erratically, the beam dance chaotically through the trees
catching nothing. My throat tightened with the
feeling of vulnerability, it knew exactly where I was and all
I had was a dwindling fire in a small flash light.
Forcing myself to move. I grabbed more wood from the
pile. I'd hastily collected earlier
tossing, logs, aggressively onto the fire until Flames, flared
brightly, the surrounding trees came briefly into sharper view,
tall trunks casting elongated Shadows across the clearing.
My small circle of visibility expanded, but beyond that
perimeter, the darkness only deepened hours crept by in
agonizing, slowness, each sound became Amplified by fear.
Every Russell, every shift, every breath beyond my sight
became a signal of danger, occasionally, the creature would
move closer standing just outside the glow breathing
audibly. At one point, I glimpsed clearly
the outline of its enormous frame tall enough to make me
feel impossibly small. It stood upright, observing
silently before melting quietly back into the blackness.
Exhaustion began to Claw at my senses but adrenaline refused to
let sleep overtake me. I sat rigidly near the Flames,
snapping away each time, my eyes grew, heavy, terrified that any
laps would end in disaster. More than once I considered
making a run for it down the dark and Trail, but logic
reminded me that fleeing Into the Woods at night would only
invite disaster. Slowly, the night crawled toward
Dawn. The sky began.
Subtly shifting fading from Inky black to muted Grays and
purples. With the faint promise of
daylight approaching the presence Around.
Me grew quieter eventually, silence returned.
No breathing, no footsteps. Nothing at the first pale.
Glow of mourning. I hesitantly Rose from my place
by the fire legs. Stiff and shaking.
The woods were perfectly still almost Serene mocking, the
terror of the night. I just endorsed yet.
As I stepped carefully away from Camp.
My flash light beam illuminated, massive Footprints.
Clearly circling my sight passing disturbingly close to my
tent, imprinting in the earth and unmistakable message.
It had been here. Patiently, pacing through the
darkness waiting and watching The Morning, Light brought
little relief. Only the Stark reality of how
close the creature had come. As I packed my belongings with
trembling fingers, I couldn't avoid the tracks in circling my
Camp. Each print was enormous clearly
defined pressed deeply into the soft Forest Earth.
A silent unsettling, testimony of its nocturnal vigil, My
cooking utensils lay scattered around the campsite moved and
examined but not destroyed. It had clearly been interested
curious, perhaps even intelligent But why hadn't it
attacked questions spun endlessly, in my mind making my
pulse race as I hastily stuffed my gear into my backpack.
Fear urged me to hurry to leave this place far behind. as I
tighten the last strap before a seemed unnaturally silent as
though, holding back some unknown Revelation, the idea of
hiking back down the trail vulnerable, again filled me with
Dread, but what choice did I have Stepping onto the trail.
I moved quickly, almost recklessly desperate to put
distance between myself and whatever had stalked me.
The massive tracks continued parallel to my path, weaving in
and out of the tree line just out of view.
A cold, chill settled. Deep into my bones when I
realized it was still nearby tracking my movements.
Every rustle of brush and snap of a twig, startled me causing
me to glanced, nervously over my shoulder, always expecting that
dark shape to emerge and block my retreat.
Suddenly something heavy sail through the air, landing hard on
the path ahead. I froze staring at the stone
that had narrowly, missed me a rock larger than my fist freshly
pried, from damp soil, my throat tightened painfully, it was
close and it was intelligent enough to send a message.
Leave me alone. My voice was ragged desperate,
echoing weekly between the trees.
But nothing moved. Silence persisted oppressive and
thick as I pushed on nearly stumbling over roots and stones
in my urgency. I knew I was being guided heard
it even but I couldn't discern toward what purpose.
My heart, pounded relentlessly fear and exhaustion battling
Within Me. Finally, the trail opened to a
broad Overlook a steep drop on one side line with dense forest
on the other. I halted abruptly, Breathing
heavily my legs shaking beneath me. for the first time in hours,
the sense of being pursued, eased slightly though, the
tension lingard, Something told me to turn back to look
carefully into the Shadows behind me.
And their partially concealed between two towering red.
Furs, stood, the creature, it emerged slowly deliberately into
view as though deciding to finally confront me face to face
in the revealing Clarity of mourning.
It's massive frame dwarfed everything around it.
Broad shoulders, muscular limbs Shaggy, dark, fur that rippled
slightly as it moved. Its face was shadowed beneath
heavy brows eyes deep Set Dark and intensely watchful, my
breath caught in my chest, Paralyzed by awe and Terror.
The creature stood completely still observing me its
expression unreadable yet. Undeniably intelligent.
The second's dragged on heavy with unspoken meaning.
My hands trembled, uncontrollably gripping, the
straps of my backpack, tightly and anticipating either attack
or retreat. Then without warning it tilted.
Its massive head slightly as if acknowledging my presence a
subtle yet, undeniably human gesture.
My pulse hammered loudly in my ears but the creature made no
move toward me. Instead after another lingering
moment, it turned its massive body smoothly, disappearing
silently into the woods leaving. No sound, or trace of its
departure. Shaking violently relief and
confusion flooding. Through me, I hurried down the
remainder of the trail, feeling the Unseen presence gradually
recede behind me. By the time I reached the
familiar safety of my car, parked at the trailhead
exhaustion and disbelief numbed my senses.
I climbed into the vehicle and slammed the door shut sitting
motionless behind. The wheel staring blankly
through the windshield at the distant Forest.
I had escaped physically unharmed but something
fundamental had shifted inside me.
I understood now that my world had grown more complex, more
mysterious and infinitely, more unsettling.
The ridgewalker had seen me. Clearly had measured me had
chosen to let me go. But why?
That unanswered question would haunt me forever leaving me to
wonder endlessly about its intentions and whether the
encounter had been merely a chance meeting or something
darker, deliberate and disturbingly unfinished.
I'd known Marcus and Trent since grade school, the kind of
friends who stuck through thick and thin the ones you call when
life gets tough or when you want to get away from it entirely,
That's what brought us to Cranberry Wilderness.
West, Virginia, deep inside the Monongahela National Forest.
Marcus the photographer Among Us had suggested the north-south
trail. It was a place for people,
serious about Wilderness isolated enough that sell
service was a myth and Maps, only Loosely represented
reality. He wanted rugged and untouched
Trenton. I just wanted a break from Our
Daily Grind. Our hike started from root 150.
The scenic highway a strip of pavement.
Barely wide enough for two cars. After leaving a note on the
dashboard. With our expected return date,
we slipped into the Mist heavy Forest, confident in eagar, It
wasn't long before the woods closed behind us.
The trail narrowing to a thin line between towering trees and
thick underbrush. The silence was noticeable right
away. Usually Woods have a pulse Birds
insects the rustle of leaves. But here it was oddly muted.
As if nature itself was holding its breath, we joked about it at
first saying, even the wildlife was intimidated by Marcus's
incessant talking, but deep down, we felled it The first day
passed uneventfully punctuated by breaks for water and
navigation checks. It was laid after noon of day
two, when things began to shift. We emerged onto a small,
clearing near the junction, where cranberry River met rough
run. The first sign something wasn't
right was the shredded, tarp Tangled high in a tree flapping.
Gently like a faded flag of surrender.
Beneath it, the charred remains of a campfire.
Stood out starkly ringed by Stones deliberately arranged
into strange unnatural patterns, concentric circles, intersected
by sharp. Angular lines.
Marcus Shrugged it off as Backwoods nonsense but I saw a
Trent's jaw. Titan pressing onward, we
stumbled onto a smaller clearing this one, made my skin prickle.
Clothing hung limply from branches overhead, a child's
faded jacket jeans, ripped at the knees and something heavier,
a hunter's bib crusted in stained with dark reddish, brown
smears. Trent glanced at me, silently
communicating, our mutual discomfort, but Marcus waved,
his hand, dismissively its hunting seasons.
In somewhere, Marcus said voice, falsely confident that evening,
we camped by a narrow bubbling stream Darkness settled heavily.
The Mist growing thick, again, wrapping around our tents and
muffling the outside world. We ate in near silence senses
heightened by unease. We didn't fully acknowledge When
Marcus started testing his camera for long exposures, The
Flash illuminated Stark glimpses of the trees surrounding us.
He scrolled absently through the images.
Freezing abruptly on one frame. guys, he said quietly, his voice
dropping an octave, He turned the screen towards us.
There was a blurred figure standing at the very edge of the
firelight tall in distinct watching Trent swore softly
under his breath. That's got to be a branch or
something. Marcus didn't reply just shut
the camera off and zip the tent flap tight burying himself in
his sleeping bag. None of us spoke again that
night each fainting, sleep ears, straining against the unnatural
silence outside at some point. Exhaustion, won, pulling me
under morning arrived in Gray, but it offered no Comfort
emerging stiffly. I saw Trent standing near a
large red Spruce beside our campsite staring blankly upward,
I approached slowly What is it? He stepped aside scratched into
the bark with crude Precision were four parallel.
Slashes intersected by a single downward stroke.
An inverted tally. Fresh sap trickled from the
grooves, Marcus appeared Barefoot and frantic have either
of you seen my boots. We searched the camp perimeter,
Nothing. The realization was slow but
inevitable. Someone had been here with us.
Silent is Shadows. Leaving no Footprints but taking
what they wished. Unease crystallized into
something sharper colder. I glanced back at the cymbals,
then it Marcus's bare feet. We need to get out of here.
Trent said quietly. But even then we knew Escape
wouldn't be easy. Something out there had marked
us and the Wilderness had swallowed our path hole.
We tried retracing, our steps Marcus hobbling, awkwardly
without boots his face tight with silent pain.
Our GPS flickered erratically. Losing its signal whenever we
tried to pinpoint our exact location trails that had seemed
straightforward yesterday. Were now twisted and unfamiliar,
Familiar Cairns those neat, Little Rock Stacks.
Hikers rely on were toppled or deliberately moved.
Blazes marking, the trail had been gouged from tree trunks
replaced by Deep Jagged Cuts, random and meaningless.
We're being toyed with Trent, muttered pausing to wipe sweat
from his forehead. His voice carried attention.
I'd rarely heard from him. Marcus's face was pale.
His feet raw from the uneven forest floor.
He refused to stop determined to keep Pace, but each step was
agony. After nearly an hour of aimless
wandering, we made a collective decision to climb to Higher
Ground in hopes of spotting a landmark or regaining GPS
reception. Climbing up the Steep slippery
slope, we pushed aside Tangles of mountain laurel until we
stumbled into another clearing. This one was fresh recently
abandoned. A modern hiking tent, its bright
blue. Nylon shredded Lake collapsed at
the center flapping softly in the morning Breeze.
My pulse quickened, blood stains dark in the fabric around the
entrance drying to a sickly rust color.
Trent held up a hand. Silently signaling caution, we
stepped carefully around scattered gear, a metal cup, a
sleeping bag, partially dragged into the brush.
Markus bent painfully and picked something from the ground.
A phone screen dark cake with mud surrounded by frantic dirt
packed handprints pressed deep into the damper Earth.
What the hell happened here? Marcus whispered his voice thin
and strained none of us answered something caught.
My eye near the tents ripped entrance.
A small figure constructed meticulously from twigs and
animal bones tied. Together with thin strips of
dried sinew. Its blank bone chip face stared
up from the leaves Trent backed away.
Eyes widening with a fear that shattered.
His usual composure He glanced toward the Shadows, beneath the
trees, his breath rapid. I didn't want to say anything
before, but I grew up in Logan County.
There were always stories about families living way out here.
Halo folk, we call them Stories, Marcus asked weekly Trent,
nodded slowly staring at the tiny Effigy at our feet.
They've lived in these mountains for Generations.
Their isolated secretive. My grandparents talked about
rituals things. Whispered around coal camps,
folks who vanished after wandering too far.
You're saying were being hunted by some Backwoods cult markus's
voice cracked, half, disbelieving half panicked.
I think they've been tracking us since yesterday, said quietly.
The realization hung heavily over us We quickly abandoned the
clearing moving Westward through increasingly dense, terrain,
silence pressed in again. Broken only by our harsh
breathing and Marcus's pained footsteps We abandoned our heavy
gear, stripping down to Essentials.
Even as we move swiftly, it felt as though eyes watched from
every shadow. Unseen trackers closing in
silently. Without warning, Caleb lurched
sideways, shouting, as his leg, jerked upward violently Trent
and I grabbed for him holding him steady a thin, nearly
invisible wire tightened sharply around his ankle.
A snare, the medal sliced into his skin drawing thin ribbons of
blood. Marcus fighting his lip against
the pain in his feet, fumbled through his pocket and handed me
a small multi-tool, we frantically cut through the wire
as the tension snapped free. Caleb felt to the ground
Breathing heavily his face pale with shock in that awful
silence. A sound echoed faintly through
the forest alone, rhythmic chanting resonating from the
valley below. It wasn't English.
It was older, harsher reverberating in a way that
chilled the marrow in my bones. Trent halt.
Caleb upright. We have to move.
Now we force ourselves up the next rise lungs, burning and
mussels aching cresting a small Knoll we glance back into the
valley behind us. Through gaps in the trees.
We saw points of flickering orange light torches held by
figures spaced evenly apart, their movements synchronized and
deliberate one of them stepped forward slightly swinging
something through the air. A metallic clang rang out
echoing. Clearly a dull resident, tolling
that felt like a heartbeat thudding in my chest.
It was a bell. A crude Halo thing made from
bone or rusted iron, they knew exactly where we were and they
were coming for us. We moved through the woods as if
trapped in a waking nightmare exhausted.
Filthy Hearts hammering painfully against our ribs,
Marcus struggled between Trenton me, limping forward, with torn
bleeding feet. The chanting had faded replaced
by distant drum beats rhythmic and unrelenting marking each
agonizing step. We took we can't keep going like
this Marcus rasped. They're pushing us exactly where
they want. But stopping was Unthinkable.
Every rustle of branches every shadow behind the Twisted.
Looming trees seemed like a threat.
I swallowed back a dry lump of fear scanning desperately for
any familiar, Landmark, then Trent pointed ahead.
There's a trail there. Look, it was narrow and barely
visible covered in thick layers of fallen leaves in red clay.
It didn't appear on our Maps, but it stretched Westward,
roughly the direction, we needed the Red Trail, Trent murmured.
He seemed almost surprised by his own words, as if remembering
some long forgotten name. We have no choice.
I said grimly Marcus, simply nodded his face pale with pain
and Dread. We followed the thin winding
path as its snaked through the dense undergrowth.
The trees overhead Tangled into a canopy thick enough to choke
out daylight. The are damp in heavy with rot.
Every steps sank into the wet. Clay staining, our shoes, and
clothing, a deep Rusty red. The drums behind us, echoed
faintly but steadily driving our pace.
The trail eventually opened slightly revealing crude
structures hidden among the Shadows.
They were hunting blinds some constructed from fresh Timber
and camouflaged. Netting.
Others from ancient weathered. Stone stacked meticulously.
Near one of the older structures.
Something glinted pale in the dim light.
Caleb stepped closer hesitating before kneeling to examine it.
A bone lay there. A femur etched intricately, with
the same strange symbols, we'd seen scratched into trees and
stones. This isn't just some Twisted
cult. I whispered this is deeper.
This is their religion, Trent said softly, the horror clear in
his voice before any of us. Could say another word Marcus
screamed. He was only a few yards behind
us, but he'd stopped eyes, wide and terrified.
Trenton ice sprinted back, finding Marcus slumped against a
tree. Trembling violently.
His camera was smashed shards of plastic scattered around him.
His face was streaked with dirt. His mouth jammed open by
something, grotesque a charm of bone, and sinew, forced crudely
between his teeth. Oh, God, Trent breathed pulling.
It free, throwing the charm, to the ground with disgust Marcus
gasped. Ratcheting tears, streaking his
face. I didn't see them.
Marcus. Choked voice cracking.
They were so close so fast. We lifted him.
Quickly forcing our battered exhausted bodies onward as the
drum beats intensified closer now.
Vibrating the ground beneath our feet, every step felt like
running through quicksand, but the distant sound, drove us
forward. The Logging Road Trent said,
urgently, nearly out of breath. There's a Logging Road, West
near Williams River. I remember it.
We trusted him, implicitly pushing through thickets
branches tearing at our skin and clothes.
The fourth, endless hostile filled with eyes.
We could sense, but never see. And suddenly, we stumbled onto
it. A narrow forgotten Logging Road
overgrown but unmistakably man-made we burst on to.
Its gravel covered surface relief washing through us so
powerfully. I nearly collapsed.
Turning back toward the woods, we saw them.
They stood silently along the edge of the forest Torchlight
Illuminating Twisted, faces streaked with mud, and Ash They
didn't Advance one stepped forward slightly, raising
something to his lips. A horn carved from bone.
Like a ram skull twisted grotesquely.
The horn echoed through the trees, a deep haunting sound
that would follow us long after we escaped.
Then abruptly, the forest was silent again for nearly an hour.
We hobbled desperately down that Logging Road constantly glancing
back waiting for Pursuit that never came.
Marcus was barely conscious slumped against Trent mumbling
incoherently. The distant Rumble of an
engineered our days. A Jeep Wrangler.
Rounded the bend ahead headlights.
Glaring brightly. Trent stepped forward
frantically waving, it skidded to a halt gravel flying Two bow
Hunters jumped out eyes wide with shock as they took in our
battered State. What the hell happened to you
guys? One asked rushing over.
I opened my mouth but no words came.
We were filthy bleeding shaking uncontrollably.
They helped us into the Jeep without further questions.
Driving rapidly towards civilization days later from a
sterile hospital bed in Richwood, I listened numbly as
Park Rangers and state troopers described their exhaustive,
search of the area. Nothing was found.
The campsites. The trails even the bizarre
Effigies all gone Without a Trace.
The Red Trail itself, had vanished fading seamlessly back
into the wilderness. Marcus recovered, slowly haunted
withdrawn, one afternoon. He handed me a small envelope
inside was a corrupted memory card.
Only one grainy image. Remained salvageable the figure
from our first night its form clearer.
Now horribly familiar. Tall, gaunt wrapped and stitched
leather. A deer skull clutched in one
hand watching silently. We never returned to Cranberry
wilderness. But even now, when I'm alone in
night closes in, I swear, I still hear Those Distant Drums
and the Halo echoing of a bell made from bone.
Everyone's heard stories about the Pine Barrens.
The endless stretch of forest that swallows up nearly a
million Acres of Southern New Jersey.
Legends of Haunting Whispers of the Jersey Devil, strange
disappearances. It was easy to laugh them off
from my apartment in Philly. Different out here though.
The dense Shadow trees had a way of swallowing laughter and
leaving nothing but silence behind.
My girlfriend Jessa had never liked Wilderness trips.
And now, I was starting to wonder, if she'd been, right all
along, she always trusted her gut more than I did, but today
was supposed to be different Just a quiet peaceful hike away
from the noise away from our phones away from work.
I found the road on a hiking blog one, that promised Solitude
and untouched Trails. Branching out from batsto,
Village a historic spot I'd visited as a kid.
I figured Nostalgia could ease her nerves about heading into
the unknown but now we stood beneath the canopy so thick the
sun barely filtered through just a glanced nervously at her phone
shaking it as if that might magically summon a signal.
I've got nothing, she said, quietly tension edging, her
voice No GPS, yours. I checked mine seeing the little
arrow Frozen on a featureless screen.
I Shrugged hoping to seem unconcerned.
Well, just keep moving. The blog said, the trails are
rough. But they loop back.
She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.
Instead she tightened her backpack, straps and walked
slightly ahead, her posture tents, and wearing We pressed on
for another half hour, the terrain, becoming increasingly,
Tangled and Wild. Thorny underbrush toread, our
pant legs and the ground turned marshy in spots.
Releasing a pungent odor of stagnant water and rotting
leaves. This definitely wasn't on any
map, I'd seen, and the forest seemed intent on.
Guiding us somewhere deeper, rather than out.
Just as I considered suggesting, we turned back a structure
emerged through the trees ahead. My heart skips slightly not from
relief, but from a strange unsettling Sensation that this
discovery was somehow wrong. What the hell?
Just a whispered stopping abruptly?
Ahead stood at a decrepit Shack. Its wooden boards warped by time
and moisture. Animal skulls deer mostly but
some smaller unidentifiable hung from rusted metal hooks around
its doorway. They swung lightly disturbing
yet. Oddly mesmerizing.
Small bones. Littered the dirt around it
arranged in shapes that felt deliberate ritualistic.
Maybe some local Hunters place. I ventured though, even I didn't
believe my own words. Jessica shook her head firmly.
We need to get away from here. Aaron right.
Now, before I could respond, I heard a sound from inside the
shack. A faint, scratching rhythmic
slow. My pulse quickened.
Every rational instinct told me to run, but curiosity gripped,
me tighter. Stepping cautiously toward the
open door. I peered inside.
The Shacks interior was dark heavy with the smell of decay.
In the dimness bones, lay scattered on the dirt floor.
Charred wood and small primitive looking figures carved from
sticks. Hung on the walls.
Their forms Twisted grotesque A message had been scratched
deeply into the rotting boards, the jagged lettering, harsh and
frantic it feeds in the trees. The hair stood up on the back of
my neck. I stumbled backward.
Heart racing. Jesus's eyes were wide her
breath rapid. Aaron a snap of branches echoed
behind us. We spun toward the sound, just
beyond the edge of the clearing something moved a silhouette in
humanly thin crouched low behind a tree.
Its form was wrong, limbs stretched grotesquely as if each
movement caused it pain, but it moved fast too fast to clearly
track. without thinking, I grabbed Justice hand run, The
forest blurred around us as we tore blindly through brush and
Fallen branches. I could hear something behind us
now. Gaining steadily.
Its gate erratic but impossibly rapid like a predator closing
the Gap. We ran until our lungs burned
stopping only when my foot caught an exposed root.
Sending me sprawling face first into the dirt.
Just pulled me to my feet, scanning wildly for any sign of
pursuit. Silence enveloped us again but
it offered no Comfort, just a mocking emptiness.
That seemed eager to betray our position.
Did we lose it? She whispered, I listened
holding my breath searching for any movement for a moment.
Nothing stirred, then softly from somewhere too close in the
Tangled Darkness, we heard a distorted mimicry of Jesse's own
voice Twisted by a guttural rasp Did we lose it?
The darkening Woods closed around us, like a tightening
grip. We hadn't spoken since hearing
that horrible. Mimicry moving cautiously
instead through thick, Groves of pitch trees and Tangled brush
Guided by Instinct and panicking.
The moon Rose offering faint illumination, painting
everything, in ghostly, shades of blue, and gray.
We needed shelter. my mind, raced through options but the
more I tried to orient myself, the more disoriented I became,
It felt as if the forest itself had rearranged overnight.
Even the stars above provided little Comfort, they appeared
misaligned foreign eventually. We stumbled upon a small Cedar
Grove set, lower than the surrounding terrain, a natural
depression, sheltered by dense branches, it felt protected
enough. I dropped my pack onto the damp
ground, pulled out some dry kindling, I'd stuffed inside
early and quickly got a small fire going, the weak Flames,
cast, flickering Shadows, making the darkness around us.
Dance on settling. You think that thing is still
nearby? Just a whispered hugging
herself? Tightly, I nodded scanning the
edges of the firelight. It knows these Woods better than
we do. It'll be out there somewhere.
She shivered, visibly pulling closer to the flames.
Something was off about the ground near her feet and I
leaned closer realizing with a jolt.
What I was seeing deep Groove in the dirt.
Drag marks. They ended just a few feet away
from where we'd plan to sleep, my chest tightened whatever,
made those marks had been close too close and recently, Jessa.
I said, quietly trying to keep my voice steady.
Look at this. She knelt beside me.
Her expression hardening into fear.
Before either of us could speak a rustling, came from directly
overhead, a heavyweight crashed suddenly from the branches
Landing in the firelight with a wet sickening thud.
We recoiled instinctively the Twisted remains of a deer lay
sprawled across the ground. Its rib cage was open exposed.
Bones stark, white against shredded muscle and skin.
The eyes had been plucked out, leaving only dark empty, sockets
staring blindly upward. Jesus.
Stumbled backward gagging while my own stomach heaved violently,
we had to move and fast pushing through dense underbrush.
We ran again until our strength faltered Soon.
Another clearing appeared. This one larger starkly open.
In the faint Moonlight, a whole gaped Darkly in the center of
the clearing. We approached slowly cautiously
peering inside. My throat tightened at the site.
It was a pit several feet. Deep filled with half-rotted
carcasses bones were everywhere animals.
Yes but also clearly human Remnants of hiking boots scraps
of jackets and backpacks, littered, the pit unmistakable
even in their decayed State. The stench made breathing nearly
impossible. My mind raced back to the shack
and its carvings It feeds in the trees, I whispered hoarsely.
This was its Larder. We were in its territory trapped
in its feeding ground. Aaron, we need to keep going.
Jessa urge. Grabbing my arm.
Pulling me away from the pit. We can't stop here.
We pressed onward. Half stumbling until a broken
shape emerged through the darkness.
And abandoned Ranger Station, its metal, siding peeling and
rusted. Without hesitation we pushed
inside barricading. The flimsy door behind us with
an overturned table. Panting, we stood silently in
the dark straining. Our ears.
Second stretched to minutes with without any sound but I knew
better than to feel relief. Then the scratching began slowly
at first soft and deliberate circling the Ranger Station
Nails scraped against metal siding with a chilling rhythm
The sound pause occasionally replaced by rapid clicks and
guttural breaths. It was testing for weaknesses,
looking for entry. I rifled through my bag
frantically finding two road flares.
Maybe this will scare it. I muttered more hope than
belief. I cracked the first flare and
the Station filled instantly with an eerie Crimson glow.
The scratching ceased immediately replaced by a
furious, screeching noise in human and enraged.
Footsteps scattered rapidly into the trees.
It worked just a breathed shakily.
But I shook my head knowing it was only a temporary reprieve.
Against the far wall illuminated in red, I noticed an old map
pinned beneath a cracked sheet of plastic.
Trails fire roads and landmarks were faded.
But one route, a fire Road seemed to run directly towards
batsto. It was our best chance out of
here. This is it.
I whispered urgently if we move fast at dawn, maybe the metal
wall behind us, suddenly buckled inward, metal shearing violently
I spun around flare. Held high clawed fingers reached
through impossibly long grassing for us.
Oh, out the back, I shouted Jesus shoved, open a cracked
window and scrambled through tearing her jeans on the Jagged
Edge. I do out after her Landing
roughly on the cold ground Behind us the ranger station,
rattled and groaned as something tore violently through metal and
wood. We didn't wait, didn't look
back. The only thing left to do was
run again blindly into the waiting Darkness.
The forest blurred passed us. An endless Maze of shadowed
trees, sharp branches and hidden routes every breath burned in my
chest muscles screaming from exhaustion, but we couldn't
afford to slow down, not with those rapid footsteps.
Still echoing behind us. Each step brought the faint glow
of dawn closer, the sky turning from Pitch Black to muted Gray.
Daybreak was our only chance the hope of seeing clearly enough to
navigate. Beside me just as breathing was
ragged her face pale streaked with sweat and dirt eyes wide
with the Primal Terror of something relentlessly, closing
the Gap. We had no Compass, no GPS, just
the vague. Hope that the fire wrote.
I'd Glimpse on the map would appear through these trees at
any moment. Appearing Howell tour through
the Stillness behind us Gutter and raw.
Jessica stumbled but quickly regained her footing gripping.
My arm tighter, Aaron it's getting closer.
I glanced over my shoulder seeing fleeting glimpses of a
gaunt figure weaving between trunks gaining ground.
My mind raced for options ahead, the forest floor, dipped steeply
and I suddenly remembered the multi-tool in my pocket, it was
our only chance Jessa keep going.
I shouted breathlessly don't slow down.
No matter what, what Aaron? I'll catch up.
I said the LIE bitter in my mouth but she had to believe it.
She had to run before she could protest again.
I dropped to one knee. Pulling the multi-tool from my
pocket. My hands trembled violently as I
snapped the small blade open. Desperately, I tore my belt off.
Looping it between two, low branches crewed.
Yes, but maybe just enough Behind me branches cracked
violently as the creature barreled toward us, just as
footsteps faded ahead. My heart pounded painfully every
Instinct screaming to run after her, but I forced myself to wait
crouched muscles coiled, the creature bursts from the Shadows
thin pale, its skin modeled gray and stretched grotesquely across
a Macy at bone. It lunged Forward all hunger and
Blind Fury. The belt snapped taught catching
its foot sending its sprawling forward with a sickening crack.
It shrieked, an ear-piercing sound thrashing violently
Adrenaline surged. Propelling, the upright, I
sprinted toward Jessa her silhouette.
Barely visible ahead through the dim Morning, Light Behind me,
the shrieking faded into Furious growls, as it tore itself, free.
Now, even angrier and injured. We stumbled forward branches,
slashing our faces and arms legs shaking from fatigue and Terror.
Suddenly the forest opened in to a wide.
Straight Corridor. The old Fire Road, barely
distinguishable beneath pine needles and fallen leaves this
way. I gasped urging Jesus a forward,
the distant glint of metal, caught my eye, utility poles
lining the road, a sign of civilization hopes surged
through me, briefly only to vanish as the creature bursts
from the woods again faster, more Frenzy.
We ran with everything, we had our feet hammering, the packed
dirt lungs burning, but the thing closed quickly unnaturally
fast it snapping teeth. Now, horrifyingly Audible, Just
a stumbled tumbling roughly to the ground.
I spun scooping. Her up practically, dragging her
forward, almost there. I breathed barely believing
myself headlights. Suddenly appeared bouncing down
the rutted track my pulse surged.
Someone was coming. Help.
Just a screamed hoarsely, waving her arms, desperately, a truck
came into view. A battered state wildlife
vehicle driven by a startled game warden.
Whose eyes widened at our bloodied and desperate state.
He slammed on the brakes skidding to a halt just feet
from us behind us, the creature stopped abruptly at the edge of
the road skeletal. Limbs poised grotesquely, sunken
eyes glaring with unmistakable hatred.
Its jaws opened wide in a Silent Scream, but it didn't follow
knot onto the open road, not into the growing Morning Light.
We collapsed against the hood of the truck.
Sobbing gasping for breath. The warden jumped from his seat
grabbing a rifle from the rack behind him.
What happened? He demanded his voice, urgent,
scanning the woods. There's something in there.
Just a managed voice shaking it took it hunts people.
He stared toward the woods, disbelief mixed with caution,
then guided us roughly into his truck.
I glanced back. One last time as we sped away.
The creature stood perfectly still watching from the shadows
as the trees swallowed it once again.
Hours later as police searched the area they found only
remnants, my torn backpack bloodstained, scraps of fabric
Tangled in Thorns no sign of the creature except marks they
attributed to a bear. They found nothing of the shack.
Nothing of the pit. Nothing of our nightmare.
In the cold Silence of a motel room outside Hammonton that
night, I finally charge my phone.
There was one voicemail waiting time stamped just moments.
After we first saw the shack My heart stopped as I pressed play.
Static crackled and then my own voice whispered through the
line, broken and distorted, don't trust the trails, it
watches from the trees. When you've spent as much time
in the back country as I have, you learned to trust your
instincts, the Small Voice urging caution, when the woods
fall a naturally silent, or when Shadows between trees, linger,
too long. But sometimes even instincts
fail to prepare you for what's waiting in the wilderness.
My name is Miles. For nearly a decade, I worked as
a ranger in the Great, Smoky Mountains.
Now in my late 30s, I still find myself returning regularly
drawn, by the raw isolation of remote Trails away from crowds
civilization and the noise of daily life My younger brother.
Jamie doesn't share my caution. At 27, Jamie's adventurous,
spirit is unbridled and enthusiastic always chasing the
next challenge. This time he convinced me to
lead a hike deep into the Smokies, the Baxter Creek and
swallow Fork, Trails up toward Mount Sterling, then across to
mount Cameron and finally, looping back along Big Creek, It
was ambitious isolated and exactly the type of trip Jamie
and his girlfriend Dario wanted. Darius, studied anthropology and
college skeptical but fascinated by local Legends and folklore.
West our friend. And a former Marine was here to
Simply disconnect as he put it. Though, I suspected.
He enjoyed the camaraderie more than he let on.
Despite local warnings at the small mountain towns.
Vague mentions of bear sightings and hesitant silences.
We packed our gear and ventured deep into the wilderness.
Our first night's Camp was near the old fire tower.
Atop Mount Sterling where the trees stood Twisted by years of
harsh weather. By Sunset, the air was sharply
cold, tinged, with moisture from clouds, hovering low, Across The
Ridges. We gathered around a fire
conversation. Turning naturally toward ghost
stories harmless attempts to unsettle each other but I could
feel a strange tension building something Restless.
Beneath our jokes. It was Daario who heard it
first. She stopped, mid-sentence, her
eyes wide in the dim. Glow of the campfire.
Did you guys hear that? We froze, listening silence
pressed, heavily around us dense and complete.
Then a faint sound Rose from the valley below a voice.
It echoed strangely a woman's cry, urgent, yet, oddly flat.
Repeating the same phrase again, and again, help me.
Please help me Jamie stood quickly, flash, light in hand.
Someone's in trouble. I grabbed his arm shaking.
My head, listen to it again. We waited listening the cries,
repeated unchanged, identical pitch, identical Cadence Jamie's
confidence. Wavered even Daria skeptical by
Nature leaned closer. Troubled, its looping, she
whispered exactly the same every time Animal was suggested
doubtfully two human. Jamie insisted The Voice.
Carried on another minute before abruptly stopping plunging, the
Woods back into Eerie silence. We were treated to our tents
unsettled. I lay awake for hours staring at
the tent ceiling ears, straining at every rustle in the brush.
By morning sunlight seemed to chase away our fears.
We rationalize the voice as a trick of the wind and odd Echo.
Nothing more, we pressed forward along.
Swallow Fork. Eager to reach Mount Cameron by
late afternoon but unease, followed us little
irregularities, creeping into our journey.
I began to notice Trail markers, subtly out of place.
Small, Cairns shifted slightly enough to guide us subtly away
from the familiar route. I stopped frequently to check
our bearings, my unease growing Sharper. it was near dusk when
we reached the edge of the swallow Fork Trail West walking
behind, paused abruptly. Something's out there.
He said voice quiet but taught we turned to see west staring
intently into the trees. My pulse quickened, I squinted
into the fading light spotting a tall shadowy figures standing
perfectly, still partially obscured behind a tree trunk.
It was unnaturally tall. Motionless silently watching,
bear Jamie whispered, no bear stands like that, I muttered.
The figure remained unmoving, a dark silhouette.
Then it simply wasn't there gone between the blink of an eye.
Knight fell quickly and we made a tense Camp beneath the thick
canopy each of us reluctant to speak openly about our growing
dread Sleep was intermittent fitful.
I woke near dawn to find Daria, awake staring into the trees.
It was closer, she murmured without looking at me. standing
right there, watching us closer than before My throat tightened
a feeling of confinement, descended oppressive, as if the
woods themselves were pressing in.
At first light, we decided to turn back.
Retracing our root within minutes, it became clear.
We weren't on the same Trail. Familiar landmarks vanished
terrain. That should have been
straightforward seemed alien and Tangled.
How was this possible Jamie asked his voice rising in panic?
We walked this exact trail yesterday.
Daria grabbed Jamie sleeve, listen we froze again from
somewhere deeper in the woods came another voice clearer now.
Calling Jamie's name, softly, urgently Jamie's eyes widened in
shock and he took a hesitant step toward the voice compelled
by the sound. Stopped.
I barked grabbing his army. Blinked suddenly alert.
Frightened, it's my voice. He whispered, that's me calling.
I swallowed the chill rising in my chest Daria.
Looked pale her eyes darting between the trees.
Wes scanned, the Shadows, wearily hand clutching his knife
tightly with each. Frantic attempt to retrace our
path. We grew more lost disoriented
Each Loop took us deeper into unknown terrain.
Eventually, we stumbled through thick brush exhausted, and
bewildered, and emerged, onto a small clearing where a campfire,
smoldered weekly, a familiar sight, my stomach lurched, it
was our camp. The one we'd abandoned in just
hours before Silently. We stared at each other,
comprehension Dawning. We'd been herded back here
intentionally guided through the forest like prey driven into a
trap. I tried to steady my breathing
hearing the polls hammering in my ears.
As dusk descended once again, we huddled closer knowing that
whatever was out there watching mimicking hunting was not
finished with us yet. Night.
Descended like a shroud thickening the fog until it
pressed damp and clammy against my skin.
My pulse still hammered unevenly from Our Endless circles through
the forest. We'd give up trying to
rationalize it, we'd been LED here, guided and manipulated
deeper into unfamiliar ground. The realization brought a
sickening, dread our Maps, our compasses all useless. the
Wilderness had swallowed us whole Jamie wide-eyed and
jittery held Daria close Whispering reassurances.
He didn't believe. West paced silently at the
Camp's Edge, eyes darting into the Gloom.
Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves sent cold Panic,
shooting through my chest. We can't just sit here.
West, finally, snapped voiced tight, he knelt and tightened
his bootlaces, movements sharp and Military precise.
We need to find Higher Ground spot landmarks, I nodded numbly
Higher Ground offered a slim chance.
We decided to split briefly Daria and I would Ascend toward
the nearest Ridge hoping for Vantage while Jamie and West
stayed lower setting up, a temporary shelter in fire.
It was an ideal, but we needed answers more than Comfort now.
The Climb uphill was slippery, Steep and maddeningly.
Slow. Trees.
Leaned at odd, angles, limbs jutting out like skeletal
fingers to block our way. My breath came ragged burning
cold in my lungs. Every shadow seemed deeper than
natural thicker somehow, Daria, stayed closed, glancing,
nervously behind us. Wait, she hissed suddenly
grabbing my sleeve my body froze.
Instantly alert what she pointed silently into the Mist about 50
feet. Ahead.
Something moved or rather several somethings shifting
subtly between the trees. Through the dense.
Vapor three tall. Vaguely human shapes stood.
Utterly still Not merely tall. Impossibly elongated thin limbs
stretching grotesquely in the dimness?
My pulse surged into overdrive, we didn't dare breathe.
Second stretched agonizingly the figures stood motionless,
outlined smudged by fog but unquestionably real, then with a
silent fluidity they simply vanished dissolving effortlessly
into the Gloom. What were those things Daria?
Whispered voice shaking? I don't know.
I lied memories surfacing Old. Cherokee Legends whispered
around campfires warnings. I'd always dismissed.
She reached out gripping my arm, with icy fingers.
Miles those shapes. I've read about them skinwalkers
wendigos but those aren't supposed to be real here, right?
Before I could respond a panicked shout from Jamie echoed
uphill breaking through our paralysis.
Daria miles. Come quick, we sprinted
recklessly downhill heartbeats. Pounding violently Jamie's face,
was ghostly white, in the dim, firelight Wes was gone.
His pack late torn, open, suspended, grotesquely from a
low, Branch contents, meticulously arranged below.
Twigs. Formed precise circles.
A scattering of animal bones arranged in crude patterns and
at the center. One.
Yellowing tooth human. It wasn't there a minute ago.
Jamie stammered, voice brittle. I swear, he was here, then gone.
My skin prickled sharply every nerves screamed at me to flee,
but rational thought remained elusive we couldn't leave West
behind. Not like this yet.
Standing still felt equally suicidal.
They're playing with us Daria whispered.
Trembling visibly, were entertainment night returned,
brutally in closing us. We clustered tight building the
fire higher desperate for illumination.
Our flashlights strained. Uselessly against the oppressive
Darkness. The woods grew impossibly still
then softly. At first distant, murmurs echoed
through the trees. Indistinct Whispers, circling
our position, my gut tightened painfully.
The murmurs sharpened gradually clearer each syllable distinct.
Jamie stiffened beside me face. Drained of color.
Its me. He rested choking out the words
I hear myself He wasn't wrong, his voice, repeatedly in the
dark begging softly, urgently repeating pleas for help exact
phrases. Jamie had uttered just moments
ago then my pulse stuttered breath catching sharply as a
different voice emerged deeper rough edge with age.
It was my father's voice unmistakably cleared.
Despite his passing years ago miles, it called gently coaxing.
Echoing from deeper, Shadows miles, come here, the forest
erupted into chilling. Mimicry Darius, frightened gasps
Jamie's terrified, shouts Wes's startled.
Curses all blending into a nightmarish Symphony taunting
and provoking. Daria, covered her ears, sobbing
silently. Jamie frantic stood defensively
over her, Stop it. I shouted voice raw my command
echoed futilely swallowed by mockery abruptly, the woods fell
silent again leaving only the crackling fire and our ragged
breaths. My breath burned from held back
fear. Daria stirred.
Eyes wide staring blankly toward a nearby tree.
Her voice shook with disbelief. Miles look.
A large symbol carved roughly into bark glistened, wetly,
freshly scored into the trunk Daria, reached out fingertips,
trembling inches from the gouges.
Its Cherokee, she whispered a warning, a barrier to keep
something out or in Jamie whispered.
Bleakley glancing toward Shadows beyond the firelight, the depth
of our Peril hit me fully then, whatever haunted these Hills
wasn't merely animal or myth. It was cunning malevolent
predatory and we had stumbled blindly into its trap.
Hours. Dragged torturous.
We sat huddled back to back, eyes darting to every shifting
shadow. Near dawn, my exhausted mind
began to drift. Thoughts numbing until Daria,
gasped, sharply beside me clutching my wrist painfully
tight, look at the tree line, clearly illuminated by feint
firelight five tall Silhouettes. Stood silently impossibly
elongated bodies, swaying, gently, they never approached
just watched observing with blank featureless faces.
Then with fluid ease. One dropped silently to all
fours. Head cocked on naturally its
voice slithered softly from shadowed trees perfectly
mimicking, Darius precise, intonation, terrified and
hopeless. We should have never come here,
silence, followed thick and absolute.
Then from deep within the trees. A cold.
Hollow laugh, rippled outward, unmistakably my own Fog
strangled the dawn smothering the forest in a choking Veil.
The remnants of our fire Lake, cold and gray.
Jamie paced restlessly glancing back toward the Shadows where
West had vanished jaw clenched, in feudal anger.
Darius sat trembling barely responsive eyes distant and
unfocused. We have to move.
I said voice low but firm I needed to keep them alert moving
doing anything but falling apart.
If we can find water, we follow it Downstream.
That'll take us out of here. Jamie stared hollowly.
We're leaving West behind Jaime. West is gone.
My voice cracked. They took him.
They'll take us too. If we stay Daria, didn't argue
merely stood, shakily her expression, dull her composure
was deteriorating drained by Terror and exhaustion.
Jamie nodded stiffly silent. It wasn't acceptance.
It was surrender. We moved slowly descending
toward the faint gurgle of a stream below.
The terrain was treacherous, sloped, steeply, and slick with
wet leaves. Every shadow loomed every
snapped. Twig shot Panic through my
chest. After hours of stumbling
downward, the woods open slightly revealing a creek bed,
sneaking through dense, rotted dendrons, my relief faded as I
noticed unnatural disturbances deep gouges in the soft, Earth
branches twisted and broken. As those something massive had
dragged itself through the brush.
It wasn't a Bears doing the marks were deliberate chaotic,
two purposeful, their guiding us again?
Daria murmured voice, nearly inaudible.
I didn't want to acknowledge it but she was right.
Our path was too convenient. The way clear yet lined
ominously by destruction. Still, we had no other options
left. We pressed forward in silent
dread. Shadows thickening again, missed
closing in tighter. Jamie stopped suddenly had
snapping toward a dense. Thicket his eyes, widened
disbelief, freezing him in place, its West, his voice
cracked. Open horror intertwined, he is
here, he's alive. I saw him.
He lunged forward into the thicket before I could react,
Vanishing instantly behind a screen of Twisted branches.
Jamie, stop. I shouted heart hammering
painfully come back. Silence swallowed, my voice,
then Jamie screamed a, raw sharp sound of surprise.
And anguish, I pushed into the brush branches tearing at my
face and hands, but Jamie was gone, vanished, completely
nothing moved. There was no sign of West know,
Jamie, only the suffocating quiet.
Darius, stood Frozen behind me, hail eyes wide with Terror.
She whispered barely audible. They wanted him.
We stumbled forward and numb desperation moving purely by
Instinct. Eventually, we reached a half
collapsed, Stone shelter, ancient and forgotten partially
swallowed, by moss and Vines. The old CCC structure sagged,
its walls scarred with deep scratches and charred by fire
long past blackened, handprints smeared, the stone fingers
elongated and misshapen inside the air, felt thick choking.
We stood silently overmeld by a sensation of being watched.
I wanted desperately to believe we'd found safety, but my gut
told me otherwise we were trespassing.
Deeper into territory, we couldn't comprehend.
Night fell with brutal swiftness.
Outside the Shadows stirred again.
Whispering unintelligible words, familiar voices Twisted, cruelty
shapes circled slowly tall, and slender faces blurred moving
with unnatural Grace. they never entered the structure but their
presence pressed against the walls seeping inward poisoning
our thoughts Darius shivered, violently voice, barely a
whisper. They aren't hunting us to kill
us, they're choosing us to replace us.
I clenched my fists feeling the hopelessness.
She voiced, infecting my resolve, She might be right, but
I refused to let her know. I believed it too.
Will get out. I said forcing false confidence
into my tone. We have to Suddenly from deep
within the darkness, Jamie's voice rang out.
Clear terrified pleading for help Daria miles, please, I'm
hurt. Please don't leave me here.
Daria moved instantly toward the entrance compelled by Instinct.
I grabbed her roughly holding her back.
It's not Jamie. I whispered harshly fighting to
Steady My trembling limbs. You know, it isn't him.
She struggled weekly sobbing. But what if it is The Voice
called again, closer. Agonized perfect.
In imitation. My pulse pounded, in my ears.
My grip tightened on her arm desperate.
Their tricking, you Daria The lure, you out like Jamie, like
West, she stops struggling. Collapsing, into me, shoulders
shaking with silence sobs, the voice can continue fading slowly
replaced by Cold laughter drifting between the trees, my
laughter, my new, then our only chance was to escape
immediately. Regardless of the wrist I guided
Daria carefully from the shelter.
Forcing ourselves through thickets tumbling downward
recklessly through brush. Shadows closed in around us,
looming. Impossibly close whispering and
taunting. We broke free onto an old
abandoned Service Road, barely discernible beneath the Moss.
Ahead dimly illuminated By Moonlight filtering through
clouds was a narrow culvert. Rusted.
Metal embedded into the Earth. The opening was tight, barely
large enough for a human body. I knelt forcing Daria inside her
breathing ragged and uneven. Go, I urge fiercely pushing her
forward. She crawled frantically through
sobbing softly. I squeezed in after her
ignoring, the jagged metal scraping painfully along my back
and shoulders. The claustrophobic tunnel felt
endless pressing tighter as we crawled panics surging in waves.
Behind us. Sounds echoed.
The scrape of claws. Low.
Murmurs distorted laughter. But whatever Pursuit us refused
to follow into this narrow human-made.
Place we emerged. Finally muddy scraped raw.
Gasping beneath cold Stars, the air.
Tasted clearer here, the oppressive weight.
Lifted ahead was a gravel clearing the distant glow of
civilization, arrangers cabin in the faint distance.
We staggered forward bodies, trembling uncontrollably.
We made it out alive, but barely I later told Park authorities,
Jamie was lost possibly injured still Somewhere Out There.
I didn't mention Wes nor did I described the horrors that
stalked us. How could I We weeks later while
recovering in the familiar, safety of my home.
My phone buzzed Softly. The screen illuminated with
Jamie's name. My breath caught painfully and
my chest. As I answered praying, a
rationally that I adhere his real voice.
Instead a single phrase played softly in my ear.
My own voice cold empty. We should have never come here
then silence.