I was always a solitary kid growing up.
I grew up on the outskirts of the little town that I grew up
in and never really had any friends.
I would hang out with someone here and there, but for the most
part I stuck to myself. Even in high school, because of
my voluntary solitude, I found time to invest in hobbies like
fishing, hunting, and playing cards.
I used to always love a game of spades with my parents and
little brother. Though I loved all the hobbies I
partook in, Hunting was by far and away my favorite.
I would hunt all sorts of critters when it was in season
and spent hours just to hunt something.
See, the fun part of it wasn't the fact that I just got
something, it was the fact that I had outsmarted the animal and
beaten it. I now had a trophy to signify my
victory, and I thirsted for this sense of victory.
Nothing even came close to the euphoria supplied to my brain.
When I came home with a fresh kill under my belt, I would
sometimes spend days out in the wilderness to hunt, and I'd get
lost out there, out in nature, with nothing but the sounds of
the other creatures that inhabited the woods in which I
was choosing to steal life away from.
Due to my love for hunting and fishing, I never found time to
do much schoolwork. I passed all my classes with at
least a sea and graduated high school, but further education
was not something destined for me.
I was convinced hunting was my calling.
After high school I began to hunt not just for pleasure but
for work too. There was a company close by to
my hometown that made deer jerky and was looking for hunters that
could deliver them the meat. Of course I, the self-proclaimed
lover of such activities applied for this position and after a
week of waiting got the job I was to begin as of right then
and there. So I grabbed my gear and went
out to the woods and set up shop up in the tree stand I had been
using for as long as I can remember and began to wait.
I must have sat in that stand for hours, because soon the sun
was beginning to set. It was summer, though, so I knew
I had some time before I was shrouded in darkness.
That's when I saw him. A male buck pranced into view
all the way on the horizon. I sat there watching it,
mesmerized by how it moved. It calmly paced the forest
floor, bending over here and there to eat some grass or
berries, until finally it came to the Creek that I had set my
stand up near to. It stood for a moment, looked
around. And dropped its head to take a
much needed sip of water. This was it, the moment I had
been waiting for. I raised my rifle, knowing I had
only one shot, and aimed it directly behind his front
shoulder. I took a deep breath.
Bang, my shot was perfect. It traveled directly through the
bucks hard and got him on the spot.
My heart swelled as again I knew I won.
All this waiting was not in vain.
I nearly flew down the steps to my stand and rushed over to the
buck. His eyes were still open.
I was glad it was instant so that he wouldn't have to suffer.
I picked him up and soon I was back home.
I called the company and soon they had someone come over to my
house and pick up my latest kill.
I thanked the man as he left and shut my door, feeling prouder
than ever. I knew that this is what I was
going to do for the rest of my life.
A few years passed and I continued doing what I loved and
eventually. I received enough money from
hunting that I moved away from my hometown and moved to West
Virginia as I heard that the hunting there was great.
I wanted to live out in the back country as I wanted to be able
to hunt all the time, and I found a place where I could do
just that. There was an old cabin, not too
expensive, that sat right in the woods not too far away from a
town maybe a 15 or 20 minute drive, so not completely
isolated, but the town it's close to is not exactly
bustling, so it's not urban either.
I liked it very much and made a couple of friends in town.
Most liked hunting, but only one ever wanted to come with me to
hunt. His name is Brian.
Brian's a good guy and a young one too.
He's just about my age, give or take a few years older.
But we get along well and we've gone hunting multiple times.
The only difference between us is that he's got a full family,
wife, kids, the works, even has a golden retriever.
He's a lucky guy. I'll tell you what.
Good shot too. Glad he's my partner.
I had set up my tree stand maybe a week after buying the cabin
out in the woods, and maybe a month after that is when Brian
and I first went hunting together.
We sat up in that stand for hours waiting for something to
turn up. Eventually a doe showed up and
we did our thing and carried her back to my cabin.
At this point I had learned enough about the making of Jerky
to know how to do it myself and with the help of Brian.
We skinned the dough and began making jerky and venison steaks.
That was a good night. We would go hunting maybe once
or twice every two weeks, but I would go hunting almost every
night. At this point I had found
another company somewhat close by, maybe an hour away that
again needed hunters to gather meat and send it into them.
So once again I applied and got the job.
Everything seemed to be going well.
I was good at my job and it paid well.
Because I was up in that tree stand for so long, almost every
night I knew just about every sound in the woods, from the elk
yells to Mountain Lion screams to foxes and coyotes.
You give me a noise out in those woods, I could tell you exactly
what animal it was and sometimes which gender it was.
That's what made this certain night so different.
As usual, I was up in my stand and I heard a scream.
I played it off like it was nothing, because it probably was
nothing. Except this scream was
different. It sounded similar to something
I'd heard before, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
Brian was with me, and he couldn't figure it out either.
Usually, we don't really care about these noises, as it's not
exactly our business to worry about every little sound we hear
in the woods at night. However, this noise was just
wrong. Something was not right with
this scream, and after a good 10 minutes of sitting through it
and thinking through every animal it could be.
Brian and I decided that we would go check it out.
After all. We were armed and both good
shots and if it was a Mountain Lion we figured it would run
away if it hurt us. Coming.
We got down from the stand and began our walk towards the
direction of the scream. After a minute or two we could
tell we were getting closer because the noise was getting
louder. It seemed almost echoing through
the trees and I won't lie when I say it freaked us both out a
little. However, we trudged onward and
eventually. After another minute of hiking,
we stumbled upon a clearing where we saw what the noise was
emanating from. It was a huge elk standing in
the middle of the clearing, just screaming out into the night.
We looked at each other and threw the relieved look on
Brian's face. I could tell he still shared the
same uneasiness that I was feeling.
We turned to look at the huge elk, still wailing and deciding
to let it be, and walked all the way back to the stand.
After some back and forth, we decided it would be in our best
interest to call it a night and just go home.
When we hunted at night, Brian usually stayed in the guest room
in my cabin as it was usually late when we got done two or
three in the morning and he didn't want to wake his children
or wife up coming home, so he crashed at my place.
However, even though we were far away now from the elk, it seemed
as though it had followed us and was just as loud as ever.
This freaked us both out a little bit.
But we figured if we went to sleep it would all be over in
the morning. So we did.
But it wasn't the ending. When we woke up, the scream had
disappeared. We were relieved and Brian said
his goodbye and left for his home.
I did my normal routine, went into town and waited until dusk
before going back out into the woods and into my stand.
I was still a tad bit unnerved from last night, but I figured
this would help me get my mind off of it.
And it did until around midnight when I heard a scream again.
This time, however, the scream really sounded wrong.
Like, really wrong. I could tell this was not the
same scream from last night, but it again was not an animal I
could put my finger on. I hoped and prayed it would go
away, but it didn't. The screaming persisted, and
persisted until I couldn't take it anymore.
I had to find out what the hell was screaming in the dead of
night. I set out in the same direction
as last night, expecting for the worst to be awaiting me.
I trudged and trudged through the underbrush until finally I
reached the clearing from the night prior where the scream had
reached its peak. What I saw, however, shook me to
my core. There was no elk this time like
I had expected. No, there was a figure standing
in the middle of the clearing, facing away from me.
I froze, unable to comprehend what I was witnessing.
This thing was massive, at least 8 feet tall, and I couldn't tell
if it was human or something else.
I'll admit it. I was terrified.
I had never seen something like this before, and I was ready to
book it away from there. I didn't want whatever this
thing was to see me, though, so I backpedaled as slowly as I
could, staring at this thing for as long as it was in view.
As soon as it was just on the horizon, it stopped screaming
again. I froze.
Why'd it stop? I wondered.
I stood there in the trees, dumbfounded, staring at this 8
foot tall creature that had just been wailing in the middle of
the woods. I realize now what a fatal
mistake I had made by not running home as soon as I saw
this thing. As I stood there, this thing
turned around and my body was struck with fear.
Though I was at least 300 yards away from this thing, it stared
directly at me and I knew it knew I was there.
Its yellow eyes pierced daggers into my heart as it got down on
all fours and began wailing once more, starting to gallop toward
me. I stood there, frozen for
another moment before booking it.
I knew all the shortcuts to my house, and I took them all,
knowing I may not have much time left.
I sprinted faster than I have ever sprinted, hearing its
echoing cries in the distance. It's growing intensity only
proving I was going too slow. As the sound grew louder than
ever, I saw my house. I fumbled with my keys to get to
the one that opened my front door, and as I reached the
porch, I found it. I unlocked the door and shut it.
As soon as I reached it, the cries were right outside and I
knew whatever this thing was, it was on my porch searching for a
way to get inside. Terrified, I hid in my freezer
where I hoped the smell of meat and ice would help mask my scent
to the being. This is where I've been hiding
for the last two hours. The creature has now found its
way inside my house and I can hear it moving around upstairs
tracking any signs of me. I'm in the basement and in the
cooler, so hopefully it won't find me in here.
I tried texting Brian to get over to my place, but my
messages haven't been going through and given it's three in
the morning I doubt he'd see them anyways.
I have no idea if this thing will go away in the morning, but
right now it's my only hope that I have.
If it doesn't, then it will find me eventually.
And who knows what it will do then?
If you're seeing this, please, I'm begging you, please heed my
advice. If you hear screaming in the
middle of the woods at night, do not investigate.
I'm house sitting in a rather rural area, mostly wooded, with
a few houses here and there, close enough to see, but far
enough away to be private. I've been here for about a
month. And since the owners have two
adorable golden retrievers, I have to walk them pretty
regularly, so I've been getting to know The Walking paths around
here pretty well earlier this evening, against my better
judgment. Damn this 95 degree heat this
late in the evening. I decided it would probably be
best to take the dogs for a quick walk before I locked
myself in for the evening, so I leashed them up and headed out.
We walked around for about 30 minutes before I decided to call
it and sweating profusely. I turned us around as we hit the
pavement. From the dirt path we were on, I
could swear I heard someone whistle at me.
Not like in a catcalling kind of way, but like someone trying to
get my attention or something. The dogs perked up and all three
of us began looking around for the source, but I saw nothing.
There was nobody around. At first I wasn't too concerned.
Honestly, that could have been anything.
Some kids playing in a distant yard.
Yeah, maybe. Is someone whistling for their
own dog? Perhaps, but I hadn't seen
anyone or anything out here the entire time we've been out
walking. Maybe it was a coyote.
There's plenty of those guys out here.
But then again, we didn't see a thing, so I decided screw it.
It's probably nothing and preceded walking, but here's
where things got weird. There's a long stretch of wooded
but oddly fenced in area we have to walk through to get back to
the house. Right as we round the corner to
this stretch, I hear the whistle again.
Only this time it's louder than before and it's behind us.
The dogs perk up again, and this time we whip around to see
what's behind us. But again, there's nothing.
Nobody, not a soul to speak of, and other than that whistle,
it's dead quiet except for the breeze.
Now, I read a story on here a few years back about the
whistling man, and with that image in my head it became a
little more concerning. I bring my pocket knife with me
every time we take a walk, because you can never be too
safe. So I just tightened my grip on
it and tried to quicken our pace.
But at this point the dogs were more distracted looking around
for the source of the whistle than they were concerned with me
trying to hurry them home. And after about 15 feet we hear
it again and again and again, louder and following us as we
move along the fence line. It's coming from across the
street behind the other fenced in area, and now it's pretty
undeniable that someone is following us.
Or at the very least, trying to mess with us.
The dogs now have their full attention turned in that
direction, and they're barking like crazy while I try to gain
control and once again try to quicken our pace home.
This time the dogs don't really fight me, and we begin to
quickly make our way back toward the house, and the entire time I
could hear whoever it was on the other side of that fence
whistling at us as we walked. The odd thing, though, is that I
couldn't hear any footsteps. There should have been
footsteps. Leaves crackling, twigs
breaking, grass moving something.
But there wasn't. So when we finally reached the
crossroads toward the house and off of that stretch of Rd.
I was pretty damn relieved. Finally, we made it home.
The dogs drank a bunch of water and I went upstairs to play some
GTA. After an hour and a half or so
of some intense business battles, I'm a menace.
I hear the dogs begin to bark at something out the front window.
Normally this wouldn't be too concerning either, considering
there is a lot of wildlife around here.
Raccoons, squirrels, stray cats, etcetera.
But after my experience walking them earlier, let's just say
this put me a little more than on edge.
So I whip off my headset, grab my knife, and walk down the
hallway to the stairs overlooking the living room.
All of the lights in the house are off, which was a total
mistake, and the dogs are standing at the window, fixated
on something out front. Being the ninja I am, I use the
darkness to creep down the stairs and over to the side of
the window, hopefully unseen, to take a look outside.
Scanning the field out front. There's nothing.
Of course there's nothing. That's not creepy at all, so I
hurriedly flick on the front porch lights as well as the back
deck lights and head back upstairs.
After another half hour or so of playing video games, I decided
it was probably about time to finish the bowl I had started
earlier in the evening. And headed back downstairs to
get a quick smoke sesh in the evening was pretty peaceful, all
things considered. The air was finally cooling a
little bit, some clouds had rolled in and I could hear birds
chirping all throughout the Grove in front of me.
As I smoked. I watched the lightning storm
over the trees in the distance. One of the dogs had joined me on
the deck and was chilling at my feet as I sucked down the last
of the smoke in my bubbler. All in all, the evening had
finally chilled out. And I was feeling a little more
at ease. That was until I thought I heard
a faint whistle from the forest in front of us.
The dog perked up again, and all of a sudden my mood shifted.
My hair began to raise and I was covered in goosebumps.
The temp had cooled off a little bit, but not enough to cause
that kind of reaction. Again, we heard the whistle.
The dog stood up and begin to growl, staring off into the
distance. I followed her gaze and
straining to see through the darkness.
I carefully scanned the horizon, searching for the source of the
sound. Suddenly I caught the dark shape
of a person standing at the edge of the woods, motionless as I
tried to gain a better look at the figure.
It vanished. We're talking into thin air.
One minute it was there, the next it wasn't.
The sound was, though. In fact, it had become far more
persistent than before, and as the whistling continued, it
began to sound more. I'm not sure what the right word
is. Frantic, but also twisted
somehow, I could trace it as it moved.
It sounded like it was shifting back and forth and possibly fast
across the expanse of woods in front of us, echoing throughout
the surrounding area. At this point I had had enough.
I quickly ushered the dog back into the house and locked the
door and began making my rounds around the house, assuring every
door and window in the place was secure.
I've since locked myself and the dogs inside the bedroom.
But I can still hear the whistling outside.
It's gotten closer, a lot closer, and it sounds just as
hysterical as before, but also more garbled.
I'm not sure how to describe it exactly, but here's the problem
I'm having. The house has no A/C, so closing
and locking every door and window made it insufferably hot
in here. My only source of cool air is
this big ass loud ass A/C unit that the owners bought for the
room I'm staying in. It's one of those ones where you
stick the hose in the window and it sucks the air in and blows
cold air into the room, but I'm trying to keep as low of a
profile as possible. All the lights in the house are
off still and I'd prefer it if whoever or whatever is currently
outside didn't know my exact location inside the house.
I've grabbed my gun and loaded the clip with the Max amount of
bullets, you know, for safety, and I'm currently sweating my
ass off inside the second story bedroom with two hot panting
dogs. I have both windows open, so the
slight breeze coming through helps a little, but I can still
hear whatever it is outside whistling away, if you can even
call it that at this point. And now it's walking around the
perimeter of the house. I can hear its footsteps
shuffling around below my bedroom window.
The dogs seem rather concerned as well, but at least they're
remaining pretty quiet. Overall, I'm not looking
outside. I'm sort of afraid of what will
happen if I do. So I guess I'll chill here, gun
in hand, and if I survive the night, I'll post an update.
Tell you what, though, ever since I read that story about
the Whistling Man, it's stuck with me.
Something about it really got under my skin, and now somehow
I'm living it. Maybe there's something to be
said about that. Fate or manifestation or
something, I don't know. But I can tell you from
experience, if you ever hear someone whistling at you, take
it seriously. Maybe it's nothing, but the
world is a crazy place and it's always best to be safe over
Sorry. Pray for me.
This is an update to my post from last night.
Well, I survived the night, albeit sweaty as hell.
The whistling lasted for a very long time last night.
Like I said, I could hear whatever it was creeping around
outside my bedroom window as it walked.
It would whistle the same two note pattern over and over again
in quick succession. I would hear it fade away as it
rounded the house. And get louder again as it would
pass under my bedroom windows. I'm not sure how long this went
on for and I don't know how I managed it, but somehow I was
able to fall asleep and when I woke up this morning the dogs
were more than ready to get outside.
After exiting the bedroom, I did one more pass around the house,
just checking inside and out to make sure it was all clear
before letting the dogs into the backyard again.
Once I felt good about it, I slid the doggie door cover out.
And the dogs happily sprinted outside while they did their
thing. I grabbed my monster orange
dreamsical flavor. Highly recommend if you haven't
tried it and began my daily duties around the house, just
watering the indoor plants and such.
When I went to feed the dogs their breakfast, I found the
container used to hold their food empty because I'm lazy.
So I walked to the basement to refill it.
I say basement, but it's not really that, It's more like
halfway beneath ground level. Looking out the windows down
there, the ground is about chest high.
As I walk down to refill their food, I noticed something
strange. What looked like an unnaturally
large dirty handprint on one of the basement windows.
It looked as if someone with huge fingers knelt down and was
looking through the window last night.
Screw that. So I quickly grabbed the dog's
food and walk back upstairs. At this point I decide I should
probably do a full check of the exterior of the house.
And I need to check the mail anyway, so I grab my gun and
take my first steps out the front door, and all seems
normal, if not a little bit eerie.
The morning is overcast and sprinkling with some distant
Thunder, which just makes the whole situation feel so much
spookier. It's like I'm in a horror movie
or something, so I begin making my around the house.
Scanning the field out front, I see nothing.
All seems ordinary, rounding the corner to the right.
I see the basement window with the handprint on it.
Looking at it in the daylight it looks a little more red in color
than it did from inside. I'm not sure if that should
concern me or not. I continue to the backyard
passing around the back deck. Nothing.
I do a quick scan of the tree line where I saw the figure last
night, but all seems normal. I round the next corner under my
bedroom and again nothing. I'm not really sure what I
expected. Finally I round the house to the
front again. The only thing off around here
is that damn handprint, and that's pretty freaky, but
nothing to lose my crap over, quite frankly.
So other than that handprint feeling better about my
situation, it being morning and all, I finally made my way down
the long driveway toward the mailbox.
But as I moved closer, I noticed something else.
There was a small pitch black mass at the end of the driveway.
Getting closer, I could finally see what I was looking at.
It's a dead crow. Its neck is twisted and broken,
it's played out perfectly with its wings outstretched to either
side, and it's missing both of its feet.
I wouldn't normally be too concerned with this either,
considering all the nature out here, but with the handprint on
the window and last night's whole whistling fiasco, I'm more
than a little freaked out. Someone or something clearly
left this out here for me to find.
I've called to let the owners know what's happening, but from
the comfort of their cruise ship suite.
They really didn't seem too worried about it all.
I'm sort of debating calling the police at this point, but I'm
not sure the situation is that serious yet.
Also, the last thing I want to do is mess with the cops in any
capacity. So, you know, I think I'll wait
it out another night and see what happens.
I have the dogs ready to fight, I have my knife and I have my
Glock. I think I can handle one more
night of whatever this bullcrap is.
And hey, if something more serious happens.
I'll make an executive decision and get the 50 involved, but
until then, I'm going to wait it out.
I used to love the rain. I could sit outside for hours in
a rain jacket in the middle of the woods, listening, watching,
taking in the smell of it. It wouldn't matter if I was cold
and I almost never got sick. The sound of light rain on my
jacket as it pattered or the thunderous downpour of heavy
rain. Either way, it set me in a
trance the more I listened. My wife, Olivia, was always sad
on these days. She just never understood how I
appreciated such a thing. She would watch me from the
window sometimes, and there I'd be, sitting and not moving in
the middle of a storm. It was peaceful to me.
It was very important to me. The rain would help me
disassociate from my depressing life.
I had no reason to be depressed. I just always seemed to be so.
I had everything I could ever want.
A house, a decent paying job, a loving wife and a healthy baby
boy. But I just could never shake the
sadness. But the rain helped me.
It helped me forget, even just for a bit.
One day I was watching The Weather Channel and saw it was
calling for heavy rain. I instantly became excited as
the rain approached. My wife just sighed as I eagerly
put on my rain jacket and boots. She held my son.
Watching me from the window as I ran outside to go to my favorite
rain listening spot, which was only about a 20 minute hike from
my house. It was deeper in the woods than
my other spots. It was a spot in the woods where
trees just didn't seem to grow and formed an almost perfect
circle of grass. There were trees all around
shore, but in this particular spot only grass was present.
It was a spot that felt too good to be true.
I would sit in the center. Listen to the wind lush through
the trees as the approaching storm rolled in.
I don't know if you've ever heard rain starting when it
first begins to fall. If it rains heavily, you hear it
pouring in the distance loudly and approaching fast, the water
rushing down and closer and closer with each passing 2nd
until finally it's upon you. Then it turns into a soundtrack
of rushing water for minutes to up to hours.
I love the rainstorms that last several hours, if you couldn't
guess already. So there I was, sitting cross
legged in the middle of heavy rain, breathing in and exhaling
slowly. I could see my breath when I
opened my eyes, but I mostly kept them shut to take in all
the sounds. It's almost as if all the
wildlife was put on pause. No birds chirping, no squirrels
rustling in the sticks, nothing. I was in a trance for what felt
like forever, but in reality was probably only 15 minutes.
That's when I heard it. It was quiet and distant.
A howling like I've never heard before from any other animal
deep in the woods. It was starting to get dark, but
it was still raining and I knew my way back fairly well, so I
decided to stay and continue to listen. 5 minutes later I heard
the howl again, this time much closer.
Whatever it was, it was moving fast.
Although it didn't sound like wolves or a coyote, I still
chose to ignore it. Another 5 minutes passed.
It howled again. This time it was very loud.
A chill went up my spine and my eyes shot wide open.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, I realized it was
getting dark. Really dark.
The howling became more frequent now.
I could sense something was approaching, and for some reason
I felt it knew exactly where I was.
A flash silhouette ran across a few trees in my peripheral
vision. I whipped my head to the right
and squinted my eyes, thinking that would make a difference.
As I started into the cold, wet, dark woods, it looked to be a
large hairy beast running upright from what I could tell.
That's all I saw. That's all I heard from there on
out. I decided it was time to head
home. Whether it was still raining or
not, I wanted to see my family. As I hurried on the trail back
home, I heard it again, distant, howling.
But just once. This time it seemed to be in
front of me towards my home. I started to Sprint home, going
mad with the thought that my family may be in danger.
I must have made the 20 minute hike in 5 minutes.
I was running so fast. I finally make it home and see
the door wide open. Honey, I yell in pure panic.
No response. Olivia, where are you?
2 I followed a trail of wet, soaking footprints to the
bedroom. There, I collapsed to my knees
in pure distraught as I look upon my mangled wife, staring
back at me, barely alive. Where's Nick?
Where's our son? I managed to spit up.
She replied. It It came with the rain.
Those were my wife's last words before she passed.
Now, every time it rains, I go looking into the woods for that
thing. I listen for the howling.
I search for my son. For your own safety, do not talk
to the man on the corner of the street.
Do not listen to what he mutters.
Do not take what he offers. And whatever you do, do not make
eye contact with him. It all started a long while ago.
When I left my home a few days ago to go to work, I locked my
door and made my way down the stairs and out of the building,
into The Dirty air and constant honking of the street I lived
on. I had not gone more than a few
steps when I saw him, the blind man on the corner.
He had been there for as long as I can remember, and in the same
clothes too. A tattered brown shirt, tattered
black pants, a pair of old black sunglasses.
And a shawl that might have been white at one point in time, but
now was stained beyond recognition with all kinds of
things. He had nothing of his own except
the tattered clothes on his back and a small hat that he always
kept in front of him. Nobody paid any attention to
him, or even dropped a few coins into his hat.
But that was the strange part. He was not a beggar, at least
not in the usual sense of the word.
In all the time that I had seen him, he had never begged for
money or tried to do anything to earn.
He just. Sat there next to the bus stop,
looking down and occasionally rocking back and forth.
I wondered a few times why he didn't just sit inside the shade
of the bus stop, but the thought disappeared as fast as it
appeared. He often mumbled and muttered,
but only to himself. He was always in that same
intersection between the roads of my street and the neighboring
one. It didn't matter if it was
summer or winter, you could always find him there.
Even at the most unusual times, he never wore his hat on his
head. And he never kept his head up or
looked anywhere but down. I was waiting for the bus, lost
in my own thoughts, when I noticed him muttering and
mumbling away, as was his routine, I called out to him.
Kai, why don't you come and sit in the shade?
It's very hot outside. Nah.
He stopped rocking and mumbling, slowly raised his head and
looked at me. When he did, I realized that it
was the first time that I had seen his face in its entirety.
It was unexpected to say the least.
Not shocking or scary. But seeing his face gave me an
uneasy feeling in my stomach. He slowly removed his glasses,
revealing blank eyes that shifted to look at me, and in
the second that followed, I felt as if he was staring into my
soul, despite the fact that he was blind.
Just then, the honk of the bus brought me back to my senses.
When I turned back to him, the man on the corner was back to
looking down, mumbling and rocking back and forth given the
impatient nature of the bus drivers that passed through.
I didn't have much time to think about what had just happened, so
I just hopped on the bus and started going through my notes
for a presentation I had that day.
The day went without any problems at the office.
Another day, another piece of my mind eaten away by parasitic
boredom. Another set of hours logged in
for overtime in the hopes of a bonus that hovered over us like
the fruits of tantalus. It was nearly one in the morning
by the time I got back to my building, but luckily it was a
Friday. So I had stopped on the way to
get some food from a late night restaurant that I frequented.
I saw Blind Kai just sitting there in his usual spot and
mumbling away. Despite my overtime.
I was in a good mood so I decided to give him some of the
food I had with me. I set the parcel beside him and
said Kai, I brought some food for you.
I had long forgotten what had happened in the morning and had
dismissed it as an overreaction on my side, but when he looked
at me. The uneasy feeling in my stomach
surfaced once again, illuminated by the streetlight he was under.
Kai's hollowed face looked even weirder than it had in the
morning. It looked as if his face was a
thin mask stretched and sewn over a skull with Tufts of hair.
Wherever faults in the mask had appeared.
He did not utter a word, nor did he even consider the food I had
placed beside him. He just stared at me without
blinking, after what felt like an hour.
He took out a small object wrapped in some wrinkled old
paper from the torn pocket of his shirt, scribbled something
on it with a stubby pencil he took from his pants pocket, and
then held it up to me, as if waiting for me to take it.
I took the tiny package from his hands and tried to read what it
was under the dullish light of the streetlight.
It was simple enough, a few words that I really couldn't
make out unless I had proper light.
When I looked up to ask Kai what all this meant, he was gone and
the world was quiet. There's silence.
And then there's dead silence. But this silence was like a
corpse that had rotted so thoroughly that only the
imprints of where its bones once lay remained.
No vehicle horns beeping, no generators humming, no birds
chirping, no dogs barking, nothing.
Not even the faintest noise from the slight breeze that was just
blowing. I looked around me to see where
he had vanished, but I couldn't find him anywhere.
In fact, it was as if all life had disappeared with him.
And the earth was holding its breath in anticipation of what
would happen next. I walked up and down my street
to try and find someone, but to no avail.
The silence in the air was so loud I felt like my own voice
was being drowned by it. The same with the streets next
to mine. I wanted to call my friend, but
the battery dropped from one to zero and switched off just as I
opened the phone app. I swore at myself for not having
the foresight to charge my phone a little more at the office, not
knowing what else to do. I started walking home, picking
up the parcel I tried to give Kai.
I made my way to my apartment and sat at my table to have my
sad dinner. Funnily enough, the electricity
still worked, so I plugged in my phone and waited.
In the meantime, I decided to look at what Kai handed me.
It was much easier to read the note under the table light than
the street light outside. It just said open at home.
That being done. I started to unwrap the paper
from around the object that was packed into it.
A small dense cube like rock with some inscriptions on it
that looked very, very old. Before I could turn to the
unwrapped paper, I pressed a panel built into the rock.
By accident, I heard a faint click and I felt a sharp pain in
my palm. Blood started flowing from my
hand as soon as I pulled the rock away from it, revealing a
sharp blade that had pierced into my palm and through the
back of my hand. I tried to stop the bleeding but
I couldn't find anything in reach.
My landlord will charge me extra if I stain.
The table was the first thing that went through my mind.
I laughed despite the pain and that helped me a bit.
With little choice I grabbed the semi dirty paper that the rock
was in and mopped up the blood on the table.
I thought the paper would fall to bits after absorbing that
much blood, but it stayed intact.
I washed my hands and wrapped bandages around it before
collapsing in bed. Tired from the office hours and
my blood loss, the next day I woke up and heard the birds
chirping in the vehicle, horns blaring away as usual.
Just a nightmare, I told myself, looking at my uninjured palm and
barely recalling the previous night's events through half shut
eyes. I was walking into my living
room when I tripped over something hard.
Looking down, I saw the same rock, now a dark maroon color.
My heart started beating faster as I reached for it.
It was real. It was real.
And it was covered in blood. My blood.
I panicked and checked the table to see if the bloodied paper was
still there or not. It was, but it wasn't bloodied
at all. In fact, it looked as if my
blood was absorbed into the paper and condensed into a
phrase written on it in a crude cursive.
I grabbed it and rushed into the bedroom to get my glasses so
that I could read what it said. I crossed my fingers and hoped
that it was somehow just an elaborate prank being pulled on
me by some TV show. I half expected a camera crew to
pop out from outside my window with a gotcha sign and a check
for a ridiculous amount of money to compensate for my troubles.
My freedom comes from your imprisonment.
I am sorry that my curse is now yours.
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
A tired old man. The red of the font was almost
black from the concentration of my blood in it.
I read it and reread it maybe 50 times.
Nothing else written on the paper on either side of it.
There was no explanation or consolation, only an apology
written in my blood that seemingly passed on a curse to
me. In my confusion and panic, I ran
out of my apartment in my pajamas and ran down the stairs
without bothering to lock the door.
I knew I would find Blind Kai at the corner like I had every day
for the longest time. He had to have answers.
He had to What else could I do? I knew nothing apart from that
note about an exchange or transfer of some sorts.
I had to find Kai at any cost. I blindly rushed onto the
street, realizing at the last second that I would probably be
run over by a car or bus. And that's when I noticed it,
the silence deep and profound. It was like the one I
experienced yesterday, but it was more numbing and tranquil
than that one. It was like the silence had
accepted me as its own. The world was empty, like last
night, but this time it was more peaceful.
I went over to Blind Kai's spot next to the bus stop to see if
he was there. As I approached it, I saw that
the spot was empty. No Kai, no information, no
revelation. Even though I knew I wouldn't
find him there. I went ahead and looked around
his spot, hoping to find something.
I saw a small chunk missing from the ground that looked like it
could hold a small cube like the one in my apartment.
So I went back, scavenged through the living room to find
where I had thrown it. Brought it back, taking a lot of
care to not stab myself again and put it in the hole in the
ground. Nothing.
Once again I had hit a dead end, but hope was not fully lost.
There was one thing that I had been putting off to prevent harm
to myself, but then seemed as good a time as any to test it.
I carefully removed the cube and put it panel side down, then
pushed it down with my hand. I heard the click once again.
And I felt the blade stabbed through the back of my hand
again. Winching in pain, I persevered
and pressed down again. I heard another faint click and
the blade retracted. The blood on the ground near the
cube was gone. The side of the cube had popped
up, revealing A chit of very old paper inside.
Unfolding it revealed another note from someone, which, oddly
enough, had a poem written on the inside.
I knew it was not Kai because his handwriting was different on
the 1st paper. And I thought it was much older
than Kai himself, because the paper looked and felt like old
papyrus, like the Egyptians used to make a marked palm first to
serve you a reminder, changed eyes next that see only the
savior. Time binds your life here till
you find another pass on the mark and fade away.
The poem was not written in English or any language I could
recognize, but I could understand it clearly.
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. What was going on?
What did all of this mean? Before I could set off home to
try and call someone, my hand started burning.
Imagine the worst pain you can, and now multiply that by 1000.
That was the pain I experienced, and I'm not ashamed to say that
I passed out from the pain. When I came to, there was a
strange symbol on my palm, a circle made with two arrows that
looped into one another, the marked palm.
I ran back home and tried to burn the paper.
Maybe that would free me from whatever horrible fate befell
me. I don't think Kai had the mark
on his palm, but then again, I didn't exactly examine him too
closely. The paper remained intact and my
panic only grew. If the poem was correct, my eyes
would change next. I was going to become blind like
Kai till I could find someone to free me.
For how long? I don't think even Kai himself
would be able to tell me that. I don't think he was the first
one, or even one of the earlier ones to be affected.
The irony I could clearly see was that only time would tell
how much time I had to wait. I slept in my bed, awaiting the
eventual blindness that came, but it never did, Neither sleep
nor blindness. I've had a lot of time to
reflect on what happened that day, and I can say a few things
for sure. The blindness is not dark.
You cannot see the people and they cannot see you.
You can only see the next person to pass on the curse to, and
they are the only ones who can see you.
What comes after I pass it? I don't know.
I don't know if I want to know. It has been a long time since
that day. How long?
I don't know that either. My time passes in a constant
state of dusk, so I do not know if it is day or night, much less
how much time has passed. I said this was all a few days,
but a few decades could have passed by maybe even a century
or two. In fact, I don't even know if
humans exist anymore. I have nothing left in my life
except waiting. My clothes have tattered.
My bones have weakened. I have not heard my voice in a
long time, and yet I still live. Is it life?
I don't know. And so I wait until that
inevitable day. All I have left to say is this,
For your own safety, do not talk to me.
Do not listen to what I mutter. Do not take what ioffer, and
whatever you do, do not make eye contact with me.
As an adult, I had almost forgotten the wild, uninhibited
joy of my teenage years. The explorations with my best
friend Robert, and the countless days we spent at Forest Glen
National Park Life had become a dizzying whirlwind of work,
responsibilities, and adult commitments.
A forgotten memory resurfaced though 1 quiet afternoon when an
old picture fell out of a dusty photo album transporting me back
to those heady days of carefree exploration.
It was an old, slightly faded picture of Robert and me
standing against the backdrop of the sprawling forest.
We were 16. Brinning, ear to ear.
Sweat soaked tshirts clinging to our lanky bodies, dirt smeared
on our sunburnt faces. We were at our happiest in the
heart of nature and Forest Glen National Park was our escape.
I held the picture and felt a deep yearning, A longing for the
simplicity and excitement of those days.
A wild idea took root in my mind.
I wanted to revisit the park, breathe the forest air and
traverse the trail that had been our favorite haunt, Robert,
living a couple of states away. Was just a phone call away, he
answered on the second ring, sounding distant yet familiar.
When I proposed the idea, there was a silence on the other end,
followed by a hearty laughter that rang out, echoing the same
boyish enthusiasm we used to share.
He agreed, sounding as excited as I was to relive our
adventures. The day of the visit arrived
faster than I anticipated. I could hardly contain my
excitement as I started my drive towards the park early in the
morning. The sun was just beginning to
peek out from the horizon, casting long shadows on the road
ahead. I reminisced about our countless
adventures as I drove. I remember the day we discovered
a family of deer, the time we got caught in a sudden downpour,
the day we chanced upon the beautiful hidden waterfall and
most vividly, our last visit when we discovered a rickety
wooden bridge deep within the forest.
It was there we'd promised each other that no matter where life
took us. We'd revisit this place and walk
on the bridge again. A promise long forgotten, tucked
away in the recesses of time, only to be remembered now.
The entrance to the Forest Glen National Park came into view.
As I parked my car, I could feel my heart pounding with
anticipation. I looked around for Robert's
car, but it was nowhere to be found.
Maybe he was running late, I thought, reassuring myself.
I pulled out my phone. But the lack of cell reception
brought an unexpected stillness. I decided to wait for him near
the trails entrance, stretching my legs and looking around at
the familiar surroundings that were steeped in memories of our
teenage years. The calm anticipation slowly
turned into impatience. Robert was still not there,
despite myself. Curiosity began to push its way
into my consciousness. I decided to take a few steps
into the trail, drawn by a sense of nostalgia and an odd
apprehension. But I wasn't prepared for the
eerie silence that seemed to have cloaked the park or the
unusually overgrown path. With a deep breath, I turned
back to continue my weight For Robert.
Unbeknownst to me, the park held more surprises than I could have
ever imagined. Time continued to slip through
my fingers like sand, each passing minute highlighting
Robert's absence more conspicuously.
He was never late, not even back when we were irresponsible
teenagers. The harsh midday sun danced
playfully off the parks entrance sign, providing a stark contrast
to the growing sense of unease within me.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally noticed a
car pulling up. Expecting to see Robert's
familiar grin, my heart sank as an unfamiliar face emerged.
He introduced himself as Officer Daniels from the local Sheriff's
Department. I felt a chill run down my
spine. Something was terribly wrong,
Officer Daniels. With his somber expression and
hesitant tone relayed the news. Robert had been in a car
accident. He was fine, just slightly
injured, but wouldn't be able to make it to our planned reunion.
The gravity of the news hit me like a ton of bricks.
Images of our shared childhood, our adventures, our promises all
flooded back. Now tinged with a sense of deep
concern for my friend, I thanked Officer Daniels, who left after
reassuring me that Robert was in good hands, his car pulled away.
Leaving me alone once again in the embrace of the park, a
torrent of emotions swirled within me.
Worry for Robert, disappointment at our reunion, sudden
derailment and a weird sense of solitude enveloping me.
I was now in Forest Glen, alone, standing at the threshold of a
place that held memories of two adventurous souls, not just one.
Rather than heading back, a strange impulse urged me to
venture into the park. I felt that the forest a silent
witness to our shared history. Held a part of Robert I needed
to connect with, especially now. As I started down the familiar
path, I couldn't shake off a sense of trepidation, as if the
forest itself was holding its breath, anticipating my lone
journey. The deeper I went into the
forest, the more vivid my memories became.
The rustle of leaves under foot and the chirping of birds
transported me back in time. It was as if Robert was beside
me, our laughter echoing through the trees.
The serene beauty of the park was overshadowed, however, by a
gnawing feeling that something was off.
The winding path seemed narrower, the forest denser and
the silence more pronounced. The once familiar trail felt
different, alien even. Eventually I reached the old
wooden bridge we had discovered years ago.
The sight of it, worn and weather beaten yet standing
defiantly against the test of time stirred a powerful mix of
nostalgia and sadness within me. I approached the bridge
hesitantly, the wood creaking under my weight an eerie
reminder of its age and fragility.
I stood there at the center, gazing into the Creek below,
lost in thoughts of our younger selves.
We were supposed to cross this bridge together, just like we
had navigated the adventures of our youth.
Now, however, I stood there alone, a solitary figure against
the setting sun. As I turned to leave, a strange
carving on the handrail caught my eye.
An odd symbol. One that wasn't there during our
teenage years. A sense of foreboding washed
over me as I traced the unfamiliar mark.
Something was not right. Little did I know then, my
adventure was just beginning. The peculiar symbol carved into
the bridges handrail was nothing I recognized from our time spent
here. It's sharp lines and unnerving
symmetry were clearly not the result of weathering or times
where it was deliberate. A message or perhaps a sign, but
from whom? And for what?
I pondered over the mystery of the symbol, my mind drifting
back to the tales Robert and I had spun as children.
Tales of hidden treasures, ancient civilizations and
mythical creatures lurking in the shadows of Forest Glen.
They were stories designed to stoke the embers of our
adventurous spirits. Narratives we knew were rooted
in make believe, or so I thought.
The gnawing sensation of something being amiss
intensified. I decided to return to the town
to dig up information on this symbol.
And whether anyone else had noticed changes in the park.
As I exited Forest Glen, a gust of wind seemed to breathe life
into the trees, their rustling leaves whispering secrets that I
was yet to uncover. The next day, I found myself at
the town's library, scanning through old records and maps of
Forest Glen. Hours turned into a seemingly
unending search. The librarian, Mrs. Dawson, a
friendly elderly woman whom Robert and I used to trouble
with our incessant questions, offered her help.
We dug deeper into the park's history, scrutinizing every
detail that could give us a clue in one of the oldest town
registers, a symbol identical to the one I had seen was marked
alongside A notation dated back to the early 19th century.
It was referred to as the guardian seal, associated with a
group of early settlers. Who were believed to protect a
great secret within the forest. The discovery sent a jolt of
excitement through me. What we considered childhood
fantasies were now intertwined with the town's historical
records. I left the library with a
renewed sense of purpose, my mind whirling with questions.
Was our makebelieve adventure rooted in truth?
And if so, why was I being drawn into it?
Now I spent the evening sitting on the porch of the motel I was
staying at, the sun setting glow casting long shadows.
The symbol, the guardian seal, was now etched in my mind.
It was as if the symbol was a key, a key to a door that was
slowly opening, revealing shadows of forgotten tales and
secrets long buried. That night I was plagued by
dreams, vivid fragments of our adventures.
Our narratives blended with reality.
I saw the symbol glowing, the old wooden bridge crumbling, and
in the distance, a shadowy figure standing at the edge of
the forest, watching me. I woke up drenched in sweat, my
heart pounding. The dream had felt incredibly
real. A chilling premonition perhaps.
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, the
symbols image in my mind grew stronger.
The dreams echo, resonating within me.
I knew then that I had to return to the bridge, the symbol, the
unknown. Fear and anticipation gripped
me, yet I couldn't deny the pull.
An unspoken promise to Robert bound me to this journey.
An adventure I had to complete for the both of us.
With each passing moment, the past, present and the uncanny
unknown were becoming inextricably linked.
Forest Glen was no longer just a park.
It was a gateway to a hidden world, a chapter in my life I
was yet to read. There was a sense of profound
awe as I returned to the bridge, the weight of its significance
settling into the deepest corners of my mind.
The symbol, the Guardian seal, was no longer a peculiar mark,
but a signpost in my newfound journey.
Standing at the cusp of an unraveling mystery, I felt
small, humbled and electrified with anticipation, touching the
cymbal again. It felt warmer, as if resonating
with my touch. With a shuddering breath, I
closed my eyes, picturing the cymbal in my mind, recalling my
dream. And then, without a conscious
thought, I traced the guardian seal with my fingers.
A sudden tremor shook the bridge, startling me.
I staggered backward, my heart pounding as the vibration
subsided. A section of the handrail
shifted, revealing a hidden cavity.
Inside. There was a dusty, time worn
leather pouch. In a surge of exhilaration, I
retrieved it, finding inside a collection of strange artifacts,
an old brass compass. It's needle restless and
twitching, A weathered map with the parks layout and a small,
elaborately carved stone. The stone bore the same symbol.
The Guardian Seal. It felt heavier than its size,
humming softly, as if carrying an energy, a life of its own.
The discoveries were thrilling, yet their purpose was unknown.
They weren't just artifacts, they were tools left by the
Guardians, and I was meant to use them.
But how? Decoding the map was my first
instinct. Laying it out on the wooden
surface of the bridge, I traced the pathways and landmarks, some
familiar, some not. There was a distinct route
marked, winding through the heart of Forest Glen and ending
at a location deep within the woods.
Was this the path the Guardians had taken?
Was this where the forest was holding its secret?
With the map, compass and the stone in my backpack, I began my
journey. The forest was different from
the ones in my memories. It was older, denser, more
aware. Each rustling leaf, each
chirping bird felt like a part of a grand narrative, watching
my progress, guiding me. Testing me, the path was
strenuous, the terrain unfamiliar.
Sweat trickled down my back as I maneuvered around fallen trees,
crossed gurgling brooks, and trekked steep inclines.
The compass needle was erratic, pointing me deeper into the
wilderness. But with each passing moment the
stones humming grew stronger, its resonance a steady
reassurance and unseen tether to my destination.
As daylight faded, the nocturnal life of the forest awoke.
Strange calls echoed through the trees, and the rustling of
foliage signaled the creatures of the night beginning their
dance. The moon peeking through the
canopy cast long shadows that distorted the landscape into a
realm of unknowns. Fear threatened to seep in, but
Robert's words echoed in my head.
Adventure is the test of courage in the face of the unknown.
With a steady grip on the stone, I moved forward, my heart filled
with resolve. In the distance, a faint glow
started to emerge. As I approached, the stone in my
hand glowed brighter. Was it responding to the forest,
or was the forest responding to it?
I felt the electricity of anticipation running through me.
My every step was a journey back in time, a voyage into the heart
of a forgotten tale. As the glow intensified, I knew
I was nearing my destination. The secret of Forest Glen was
about to be revealed. The path led me to a clearing.
A hidden Grove lit by a glow as ethereal as moonlight.
The radiance emanated from an ancient tree, grander and older
than any I had ever seen. Situated at the center of the
clearing, it was the heart of Forest Glen.
The stone in my hand pulsated with energy as I neared it, its
glow matching the rhythm of the radiant tree.
Trepidation wavered with excitement in my veins.
The sense of being at the heart of a hidden world was
overwhelming. The tree towered above, bathed
in a mysterious glow. Its bark etched with the same
symbol, the guardian seal. The seal was larger here, its
contours deep and clear, an emblem of a pact between mankind
and nature. Taking a deep breath, I touched
the symbol the same way I did on the bridge.
For a moment, nothing happened, and a ripple of doubt seeped in.
But then the tree responded. It pulsed with light, the whole
clearing illuminated by an ethereal glow.
A hum filled the air, the same as the one that resonated from
the stone. Only much, much stronger.
It felt like the tree was alive, conscious and aware of my
presence. It was as if the tree was
speaking to me, it's voice resonating in waves of light and
energy. The stone in my hand vibrated,
guiding my fingers over the symbol on the tree.
Feeling empowered, I traced the guardian seal on the tree, the
stone acting as a conduit. The ground beneath me trembled
gently, a deep rumble echoing from within the earth.
The tree blazed brighter, its light shooting skywards, then a
section of its colossal trunk parted, revealing a hidden
chamber. The chamber was a sacred place,
filled with relics and remnants from a time long forgotten.
There were carvings on the walls, intricate depictions of
humans in nature living in harmony.
There were ancient tools, garments, handwritten scrolls,
and much more, but what caught my attention was a grand
pedestal at the center, holding an ornate staff.
It's craftsmanship was exquisite, with the guardian
seal embedded at the top glowing with a soft light.
As I approached, I could sense the power the staff held.
The stone in my hand was a key. The staff was a symbol of
authority, and I, at that moment, was their destined
bearer. Trembling with anticipation, I
reached out and grasped the staff.
A surge of energy pulsed through me.
My sense is heightened, my mind open to the language of the
forest. The whispers of the wind, the
songs of the brook, the tales the tree had to tell.
I was a guardian. I had the responsibility of
protecting the Sanctuary, preserving its secret and
ensuring the pact between humans and nature remains unbroken.
Robert's words rang in my ears. Adventure isn't always about the
unknown. Sometimes it's about finding the
known and protecting it. This adventure was my purpose.
The forest was my responsibility.
The legacy of the Guardians was now mine to bear.
Standing tall in the heart of Forest Glen, staff in hand, I
felt a bond forming not just with the tree, but with every
leaf, every creature, every breath of air in the park.
As the moonlight danced around me, the stone and staff hummed
in harmony. I was ready to fulfill my role
as the guardian of Forest Glen. As the guardian of Forest Glen,
I was tasked with responsibilities that once
seemed beyond my wildest dreams. Nightfall draped the park in a
cloak of obscurity, but the forest came alive in a way I had
never known. The staff in my hand guided me,
its glow illuminating the path as the nocturnal creatures of
the forest came out to play their part in the nocturne of
nature. My connection with the forest
deepened. The rustling leaves spoke of
secrets, the wind carried, the burbling brook told tales of the
journeys it had embarked on, and the hum of insects were like
rhythmic symphonies, echoing in the night.
I was no longer an outsider. I was a part of the forest, now
connected to it in a profound and personal way.
The night bore witness to my first duty as a guardian.
I had to help a young deer stuck in a thicket.
It's doe eyes reflecting fear. I felt it's anxiety resonate
within me. Guided by the staff and my
newfound understanding of nature, I managed to free it.
The deer bolted into the forest and I felt a sense of peace and
fulfillment wash over me. This was my purpose.
Time seemed to flow differently in the forest.
Hours passed as minutes, and before I knew it, the moon was
at its zenith. A sudden surge of energy pulsed
through the staff, almost knocking me off balance.
A spectral wolf appeared, its form composed entirely of soft,
shimmering light. The wolf bore the same symbol on
its forehead, the guardian seal. The spectral wolf led me to a
hidden pond in the heart of the forest.
The water shimmered under the moonlight, and as I approached,
an image started forming on the water's surface.
It was a vision, a glimpse into the past, a time when humans and
nature lived in harmony, respecting one another.
It was an idyllic scene of coexistence, where people bore
the guardian seal, signifying their pledge to protect nature.
The spectral wolf was my guide, a bridge between the past and
the present. Here, to ensure I understood my
responsibilities as a guardian, the visions it showed me were a
testament to the important role guardians played and the urgent
need for their return. This understanding filled me
with determination, but it also burdened me with the reality of
the present world. As the night gave way to dawn, I
found myself back at the Great Tree, my heart filled with
newfound knowledge and a sense of purpose.
The Night of Awakening had not just made me aware of my
responsibilities as a guardian. But it had also shown me the
path I had to take. I understood now.
My adventure wasn't just about protecting Forest Glen.
It was about restoring the balance between humans and
nature. I had to ensure that the pact,
made ages ago wasn't forgotten, that the Guardian Seal served as
a reminder of the commitment humans had once made to nature.
With the staff by my side and the seal is my guide, I was
ready for the challenges the day would bring the world needed to
remember. And I, as the Guardian, had to
remind them my adventure was just beginning.
The final days as the Guardian of Forest Glen were nothing like
I imagined. The tranquil calm of the forest
was replaced by a haunting silence that unnerved me.
The forest had always been a source of comfort, but now it
seemed to be hiding, a foreboding secret.
In its depths, the spectral wolf, my guide, had become
ominously absent. I had come to depend on its
wisdom, its guidance. But now, in its silence, I felt
a growing sense of dread. That night, as I wandered the
forest, my staff's glow began to flicker, an anomaly that had
never occurred. The pulse of energy from the
staff felt weaker, somehow diluted.
The whispers of the forest fell into an unnerving silence, and a
chill breeze stirred, carrying a sense of foreboding.
Suddenly, a deep, resonating growl echoed through the night.
My heart pounded in my chest as I followed the sound, the staff
guiding me. The glow from the staff cast
long, distorted shadows that danced on the trees, giving the
forest an eerie, almost otherworldly appearance.
I arrived at the clearing, the very heart of the forest, where
the great tree stood. The sight that met my eyes froze
my blood. The great tree, once a symbol of
life and resilience, was wilting, its leaves falling like
mournful tears. The clearing, usually vibrant
and full of life, was desolate. The only sound, the creaking of
the dying tree, and there, standing before the great tree,
was the spectral wolf, its form flickering like an unstable
flame. It bore a look of pure anguish,
its ethereal eyes reflecting the trees suffering.
Suddenly the spectral wolf started transforming, its light
dimming. The transformation was not one
of nature, but of an unnatural, menacing force.
The once graceful form of the spectral wolf contorted into a
terrifying, monstrous creature, its eyes blazing with an unholy
fire. The creature roared, its
deafening sound echoing through the forest, causing the ground
beneath my feet to tremble. The staff in my hand pulsed
erratically, the glow dwindling until it was barely a flicker.
The seal on my arm ached as if it too felt the corruption
spreading through the forest. My knees buckled under the
sight. Fear constricting my heart.
But even in my terror, I knew I was the guardian.
I was the only one who could face this darkness, this
terrible perversion of nature. As the creature loomed over me,
its monstrous form blotting out the moon, I held up my staff,
the glow flickering defiantly. The creature roared, A guttural
sound that shook the forest to its core.
I felt a chill wash over me, a premonition of the trials that
lay ahead. The battle had begun.
The fight for the heart of Forest Glen was upon us, and the
forest held its breath in terrified anticipation.
The forest, the spectral wolf and I were now at the mercy of
the growing darkness. The terror of the moment was
overwhelming, but the resolve within me was stronger.
I was the Guardian. The terror of the night was just
the beginning of my true journey.
The darkness had ascended, and now I had to face it.