It was a few nights ago, or maybe it all truly began about a
year ago. There's a dirt trail that winds
its way behind a row of homes in my housing complex, a trail I
often traverse when I take my dog, Jack for his nightly walks.
Jack's a bit of a nervous pup, especially around strangers, and
the dimly lit trail usually guarantees we won't encounter
anyone this time of year. The trail is perpetually damp
and carries the pungent aroma of decaying leaves that blanket it.
The fences, barely higher than waist level at their lowest and
reaching shoulder height at their highest points, separate
the trail from the backyards of these homes.
My fence falls somewhere in between those extremes, offering
a less than ideal level of privacy.
I often grumble about it, but it seems the longtime residents
either don't mind or haven't cared enough to replace them.
At first I felt like a bit of a nosy neighbor, but it's hard not
to sneak a peek through the illuminated windows and glass
patio doors. My curiosity was innocent, far
from that of a perverted voyeur seeking to catch a glimpse of
something illicit. Still, the fear of being labeled
the neighborhood's peeping Tom, if caught, outweighed any guilt
I might have felt from my inadvertent observations.
Nevertheless, as time passed and I continued my nightly walks, my
reservations began to wane and I found myself watching more and
more. Each window became a silent
vignette, A glimpse into the lives of my neighbors.
Sometimes I'd linger longer, as though waiting for Jack to
finish his business if something or someone caught my attention.
For instance, there was a single mother who occasionally built
whimsical pillow forts with her two kids.
It tugged at my heartstrings, evoking feelings of nostalgia.
Then there was a young couple that seemed to engage in heated
arguments that swiftly transitioned into passionate
embraces and a retreat further into their home, presumably to
work out their issues. Their record was an astonishing
27 seconds from argument to embrace.
I counted most nights it was routine, people following their,
well, practice patterns. It was true what they said about
people being creatures of habit. The same neighbors cleaned their
kitchens, settled onto their couches, or headed to bed at the
same times night after night. The final house along the trail
belong to an elderly widower who seldom left his abode during the
day, a man, presumably his son or another relative, drop by
with groceries and necessities. The elderly man typically dozed
off in his tattered recliner TV, casting a faint blue glow,
wearing his worn out housecoat. Nothing ever happened there.
Just an old man, slack jawed and snoring away.
A few nights ago, as I reached the end of the trail and glanced
into the old man's window, he was there again.
Same old housecoat, same blue glow from the TV, but he wasn't
in his recliner. He stood motionless by the
window, his eyes locked onto mine, startled by Jack's sudden
barking. I momentarily dropped my gaze.
When I looked up again, the old man remained, not moving a
muscle, not even blinking. I tried to wave, attempting to
break the awkward tension, but he didn't react.
Unease settled in and I took Jack home, trying to put the
strange encounter out of my mind.
The next night, as I approached the trail entrance, I couldn't
help but think about the old man and his unblinking gaze.
Why should I care if he saw me walking my dog?
I hadn't done anything wrong and I was just being paranoid.
I scolded myself for making a mountain out of a molehill and
continued on. However, I refrained from
peeking into the regular windows, still unsettled by my
encounter with the old man. That is, until I reached the
House of the young couple. Their lights were on, but they
weren't arguing this time. They were watching.
My heart raced with fear. If this was some elaborate
prank, I wanted no part in it. Jack, who had been lagging
behind, quickened his pace as I pulled him along.
When we reached the end of the trail, Jack whined and I looked
down to see him with his tail tucked between his legs.
The old man was there again, in his same old house coat, with
the same lit windows of the TV, still watching.
But he wasn't alone. Out on the dirt trail and among
the trees, there were more figures.
The young couple, the single mom, her children, and at least
half a dozen other neighbors. They weren't in their living
rooms or kitchens, nor were they at their windows.
They were right there in front of me, silently watching.
My heart leaped into my throat and I ran, pulling Jack along
with me. I barely slept that night, my
mind racing with anxiety. I couldn't stop pacing around
and checking my windows to see if they were following me.
In the early hours, I abandoned any hope of getting meaningful
sleep, made a pot of coffee, took a shower, and tried to
prepare for work. I decided that I would avoid
that trail from now on. Lesson learned.
As I left for the bus stop, I saw the maybe son of the old man
standing in the road in front of his house, and another neighbor
I recognized by the bus stop. Both standing perfectly still,
both facing me, frustrated and unnerved, I abandoned my plans
for work and returned home. I was at a loss.
Maybe I was losing my mind. I spent most of the day peeking
out my windows and spotted the young couple on their porch
staring at my house. A few hours later, the woman
from the neighboring house stood at the end of my driveway,
motionless. I stepped outside, feeling a
mixture of fear and anger. Can I help you?
I asked, but she remained silent, just standing there, her
gaze fixed on me. An hour ago, I let Jack out into
the yard, but something was terribly wrong.
Jack, who always came running when I called, was now standing
there, staring back at me. I couldn't bring myself to fetch
him. I kept closing my blinds, only
to find them open again, as if someone were watching me from
the outside. Desperation set in, and I tried
calling the police, my friends, my parents, anyone who could
help, But all I heard was silence on the other end of the
line. My neighbors are still out
there, just beyond my windows, their faces illuminated by the
moon, distorted by the shadows, motionless, silent, watching.
I work for a logging company located deep in the wilderness,
surrounded by dense forests stretching for miles in every
direction. The closest town, my own
residence, is about 18 miles away.
I've been with the company for eight years now, but recently,
with inflation wreaking havoc on my savings and prices
skyrocketing for everything from rent to gas, I volunteered for
late night shifts to earn as much overtime pay as I could.
Some of the guys who worked the night shifts had always
mentioned that the woods, as well as the late night drive
through them, took on a much darker and eerie atmosphere.
I dismissed their words as mere superstition, believing it was
foolish for grown men to still be scared of such things.
It was like needing a night light in your bedroom, like
being afraid of the boogeyman in the closet.
So I laughed it off. But one night, a night I wish I
could erase from my memory changed everything.
It was just past 2:00 AM when I finished my shift, bathed in the
harsh glow of white spotlights as I used a forklift to load
freshly cut boards onto a waiting trailer.
These boards would be transported by an 18 Wheeler in
the morning. After parking the forklift, I
headed into the break room where a few of my colleagues and one
of the security guards were lounging on worn out couches
engrossed in what looked like an old 50s monster movie playing on
an ancient TV hooked up to an equally ancient VCR.
Retrieving my punch ticket from its slot, I inserted it into the
clock, hearing the familiar clunk signifying the end of my
shift. Finished for the night, Robins.
Barry, a burly man with a thick beard, asked, tearing his gaze
away from the movie. Want to stay a bit longer and
join us? We're watching the monster that
challenged the world. He gestured towards the screen.
I shook my head. Thanks, Barry, but not tonight.
I'm completely exhausted. All I want to do is go home,
grab a quick bite, and hit the sack.
I won't even get back to town until close to 3:30 or 4:00 in
the morning, as it is. Very nodded and turned back to
the movie, raising a hand to bid me farewell.
But Damon, another worker, looked up at my words, his face
filled with apprehension, a sight that surprised me.
Did you just say you won't get home until almost four?
He asked cautiously. Yeah, with that long, winding
Rd. through the woods. It's going to take an hour or
two, I replied, raising an eyebrow.
Why? Damon exchanged glances with the
others on the couch, who seemed to share the same expression.
I repeated my question, growing slightly annoyed.
And why is that? I asked my patients, wearing
thin. After a lengthy pause, Damon
answered. Look, Mike, maybe it would be
better if you stayed here a little longer, crashed on the
couch with us, had a drink and some pretzels, and watched the
movie at least until after three.
AMI was perplexed and impatient, but decided to humor him.
And why exactly is that? I asked with a hint of
irritation, More exchanged looks among the men.
Spencer, the man to Damon's right, finally spoke up.
Mike, I know you don't believe in, well, most things, but I
can't let you leave without a warning.
None of us can. Barry let out a frustrated
groan. Oh, for Pete's sake, Spencer,
enough with the superstitious nonsense.
The realization dawned on me as well, and I rolled my eyes.
Another one of their spooky stories, I thought Both Spencer
and Damon shot Barry a glare. You can mock us all you want
bar, but there's something out there, something that roams the
woods late at night, something unnatural, Spencer said.
My patience finally ran out. There's nothing out there except
regular forest animals, I insisted, trying to keep my
voice calm. Damon stood up, blocking the
view of the TV. Barry and the others mumbled for
him to move, but he ignored them.
Mike were regular forest animals responsible for tearing that
trucker out of his rig 12 years ago.
Were they the ones who broke into the old mannequin factory
and didn't damage anything but took some of the dummies?
And was it regular animals that made an entire family vanish
while camping three years ago, leaving behind a tent that
looked like Jason Voorhees had taken a machete to it?
Damon's voice grew more agitated with each question.
Was it regular animals? Fortunately, Barry intervened,
standing up and getting in Damon's face.
Enough. He shouted, his deep voice
almost shaking the break rooms windows.
Damon immediately fell silent. Barry took a deep breath and
spoke through clenched teeth. Enough with the nonsense,
Montclair. If you do that again, I'll
personally speak to HR and recommend your termination,
along with anyone else who's fallen for these stories.
We've tolerated it for months, but no more.
He narrowed his eyes, understood.
After a tense pause, Damon nodded and sat back down,
fuming. Tough luck.
Barry turned and motioned for me to leave.
Go ahead, Robbins, have a good night and drive safely.
With that, he too resumed watching the movie, retrieving
my flannel jacket and phone from my locker, I left the break room
without looking back. The chilly autumn air hit my
face as I pushed open the metal door to the outside, and the
sounds of the surrounding forest enveloped me.
Crickets or cicadas chirped nearby in the grass.
An owl hooted in the distance and something that sounded like
an elk called out. Far away, a Mountain Lion
growled. I paused for a moment, taking in
the peaceful atmosphere as I attempted to calm myself.
Such nonsense, I muttered to myself.
My words provided some solace, and I began walking towards the
makeshift parking lot at the far edge of the property.
My truck, a dark green International scout, occupied
the middle of the small line of remaining vehicles, unlocking
the door and climbing inside. I shook my head slightly and
inserted the key into the ignition.
The V8 engine roared to life and I flicked on the headlights,
shifting the gear stick into first and pulling out onto the
deserted Rd. It was often referred to as a
highway, but in reality it was a narrow 2 lane Rd. connecting the
neighboring communities. Overhead, the branches of pine
and fir trees intertwined, blocking out most of the
moonlight as if they were trying to reach down and smother
everything below. I shook my head, trying to
dispel any irrational thoughts. No time for metaphors, I mumbled
to myself. My words comforted me somewhat
and I leaned back into my seat, shifting the truck into 4th gear
and allowing the open road and the music playing from the radio
to empty my mind of the recent confrontation.
For the next 45 minutes I drove in silence, the only sounds
being the rumble of the engine, the hum of the off road tires on
the pavement, and the music seeping from the speakers.
The cassette tape had just ended and I was searching for a new
one when something darted across the road.
Momentarily illuminated by the headlights, I looked up just in
time to see it scurrying across the road, barely 8 feet from my
front bumper, an involuntary shout escape My lips damn it.
I slammed my feet on the clutch and brake pedals, The rear tires
locked and the screeching filled my ears as the truck skidded to
a stop by the grassy shoulder. I sat bolt upright for a few
moments, my breath coming in quick ragged gasps and my heart
pounded in my chest as I tried to calm myself.
Eventually my racing heart slowed and my mind began to
function. What the hell was that?
And did I hit it? I exhaled deeply hoping I
hadn't. Repairing a 51 year old trucks
body panels wasn't cheap by any means.
I shifted the gear into neutral, turned off the high beams and
parking brake, and reached for the dimmer switch on the floor,
allowing the area to be lit up in the high beams.
Grabbing a flashlight from the glove compartment, I open the
driver's door and stepped out into the chilly night.
Even with my jacket on, the air felt colder than it had at the
logging mill. Turning on the flashlight, I
walk to the front of the truck, shining it on the grill.
Thank goodness, I muttered, exhaling a breath I hadn't
realized I'd been holding. As I noticed no damage, I turned
away, gazing into the night. Whatever it had been, it seemed
long gone. I couldn't hear the rustling of
anything moving through the underbrush, the typical sign of
an animal nearby. That's when I noticed something
peculiar. I could hear the trucks engine
rumbling behind me, the faint whistle of the wind weaving
through the forest labyrinth of trees and the distant splashing
of the Creek that followed the road.
But I couldn't hear anything else.
No sounds of animals, be they insects, birds, or larger
creatures. It was completely silent, eerily
unnatural. A shiver ran down my spine
involuntarily, and I shivered. I'd live near the woods my
entire life, but I'd never experienced such silence.
It didn't feel right. It was unsettling.
Another shiver crept up my spine, and I glanced around,
sweeping the flashlight beam to both sides of the Dark Rd.
I had just decided to return to my truck when a feeling washed
over me. A sensation that being watched,
observed alone on A2 Lane Rd. With no St. lights in the middle
of nowhere. It was an unwelcome feeling.
It felt as if something was bearing down on me like prey
being haunted. My pulse quickened again and I
realized how vulnerable I was out here.
I did have a pistol in the center console just in case, but
I'd left it in the truck, a decision I now regretted.
OK, time to get back in the truck.
Move it, man, I said softly to myself, the feeling of being
watched intensifying by the 2nd. My mind wandered to the Mountain
Lion scream I'd heard earlier. To a big cat, I was an easy
target. I decided to make my way back to
the open driver's door. That's when a wave of dread hit
me, one of the worst feelings I've ever experienced.
It was like the sensation of prey when a predator closes in
rapidly. I heard no sounds of an
approaching animal, but the panic and fear grew more intense
than I thought possible. I broke into a jog, then a run.
I was sprinting by the time I reached the open door, feeling
like whatever was pursuing me was right on my heels.
Letting out a strangled scream, I jumped into the truck,
slamming the door shut behind me and locking it.
I fumble in the center console, my hands gripping my pistol.
Pulling myself upright, I turned and aimed the gun through the
closed window at nothing. There was nothing beyond the
glass, no visible presence around the truck.
Peering out. I couldn't spot anything near
the ground either. I grabbed the flashlight from
the floor and, gun still in hand, aimed it at the woods on
either side. Nothing.
After a moment, I exhaled loudly and leaned back into the seat.
Then I began to laugh softly at myself.
You're a damn coward. Letting Damon and Spencer's
ghost stories get to you. I continued to chuckle, turning
off the flashlight and returning the gun to the center console,
replacing the flashlight in the glove box.
I shook my head as I reached for my seat belt.
You're better than this, I scolded myself.
It was just an Animal Crossing the road.
A bear, deer, elk or something, Nothing more.
I glanced at the glow in the dark face of my watch. 253 AMI
sighed and turned off the high beams and parking brake before
pulling back onto the road. As I continued my late night
drive through the dense, ominous forest, I decided to skip
searching for another cassette tape in my truck center console
and opted to tune the radio to the nearest station.
The smooth, silky voice of a man conducting the late night local
farm report emanated from the speakers, providing some
semblance of normalcy in the otherwise eerie surroundings.
As I listen to the mundane details of beef and chicken
prices, a sense of relaxation began to wash over me, gradually
dissipating the tension that had built up during my night shift.
I even entertained the thought that I'd be home safely tucked
in my driveway in less than half an hour.
This notion brought a reassuring smile to my face and I chuckled
softly, contemplating sharing this bizarre experience with my
Co worker Barry during our shift tomorrow night, especially after
the strange events that had unfolded earlier.
Returning my focus to the road, I leaned down and adjusted the
radios volume slightly. The farm report had come to an
end, and the man on the radio was now delivering the upcoming
week's weather forecast. I leaned back into my seat,
allowing my tired eyes to follow the path illuminated by the
truck's headlights as I ventured around each dark bend.
Approximately 10 more minutes past and I found myself blinking
more frequently, succumbing to drowsiness sooner than
anticipated. It was disconcerting, as I
hadn't consumed any caffeine or soda in hours, and I dreaded the
idea of falling asleep at the wheel, potentially causing a
catastrophic accident. The vivid mental image of my
scout wrapped around a thick pine tree with my mangled body
inside sent shivers down my spine.
All right, I guess we're doing this, I muttered to myself,
realizing I had no choice, and reached into the center console
for something I knew was there. My hand emerged holding a
lighter and a battered pack of Marlboros, despite my near
complete abandonment of smoking after my uncle's death from
cancer three years ago. I had kept one last pack for
moments when I felt overwhelmed or in need of a pick me up.
Two lone cigarettes greeted me from the packs interior as I
pulled one out and glanced at the final remaining one inside.
And then there was one final little Indian remaining, I
muttered, recalling an old childhood story engaging the
truck cigarette lighter, I refocused my attention on the
road while waiting for it to heat up.
The voice on the radio had been replaced by soft static.
Great, I'm in a damn dead zone. I grumbled to myself and snapped
off the radio instead, listening to the hum of the trucks engine.
My mind revisited the unsettling encounter from earlier, and I
couldn't shake the chill that had overwhelmed me back then.
My train of thought was interrupted as the cigarette
lighter made a popping sound indicating it was ready.
I pulled it out, briefly touching the glowing tip to the
end of the cigarette before returning it to its socket and
exhaling a cloud of smoke. Get a freaking grip, Mike, It
was nothing more than an animal. You're OK, you're going to be.
I began to console myself when my eyes widened in horror as I
rounded a sharp bend in the road, revealing a shape right in
the middle of my path. I screamed, slamming on the
brakes for the second time that night.
The truck skidded to a stop just 15 feet from the ominous shape,
and I clutched the cigarette between my teeth, gripping it so
tightly that I feared I might bite through it.
It took a moment to process what I was seeing, a lump, black and
yellow, but the shade of yellow wasn't natural.
Panic set in as I realized the implications.
I leaned forward, my heart pounding, and the cigarette
clung to my trembling lips as I observed the figure more
closely. That's a person.
Oh oh hell, I stammered slowly, getting to my feet, cautious of
my surroundings. The eerie silence of the forest
added to my growing unease. Had someone been injured and
ended up on the road, or was it a sinister trap?
My mind raced with thoughts of horror stories and urban legends
as I reached into the center console and retrieved my pistol
along with a spare magazine which I tucked into my jeans
pocket. My hand shook as I approached
the figure, which appeared to be dressed in a tracksuit and
unlikely choice for someone jogging in the middle of the
night. As I knelt beside the motionless
figure and tapped its shoulder, desperately trying to rouse it,
a feeling of dread washed over me.
Hey, I whispered, my voice trembling.
No response. I shook the figure more
forcefully, but it remained unresponsive.
Anxiety gripped me as I realized the figure might be dead or
unconscious. Summoning the last ounce of
courage, I grasped the figure shoulder and rolled it over,
only to make a chilling discovery.
It wasn't a person, it was a store mannequin, crudely
disguised with a wig to conceal its lifeless white face.
Shock course through me, and I nearly dropped my cigarette and
flashlight as I stumbled backward, realizing I had walked
into a potential trap. My mind raced in a deep sense of
dread took hold. Oh no, I muttered, understanding
how naively I had acted. My heart pounded as I quickly
scanned my surroundings for any signs of danger.
Then, as if confirming my worst fears, the mannequin began to
drip something red from beneath the wig, sending a surge of
terror through me. I staggered to my feet and took
a step back, my eyes darting all around, only to be met by a new
sinister sight. A shape, pure black and even
darker than the night, emerged from the forest, about 30 or 40
feet to my left. Panic gripped me as I noticed
something red and white on the shape.
Paralyzed by fear, I realized what I was seeing.
I screamed and spun around, grabbing my gun and flashlight,
ready to fire in desperation, But before I could react, the
shape abruptly stopped and silence engulfed me.
My breaths came in shallow, frantic gasps as I watch the
shape in the distance. I knew it was watching me and
the knowledge was suffocating. Then it unleashed another blood
curdling shriek, louder and more vicious than before, before
rapidly closing the gap between us.
In a frenzied panic, I sprinted back to my truck, throwing open
the driver's door and slamming it shut behind me, locking it in
a desperate bid for safety. Just as I secured myself inside,
the shape slammed into the truck side with tremendous force,
rocking it violently on its suspension.
My fingers scrambled to lock the doors, and I could feel the
creature attempting to flip the vehicle over.
The horrifying realization that it was trying to overturn the
truck and reach me fueled my determination.
I jammed the gear shift into first and slammed my foot on the
gas pedal with all the strength I could muster, sending the
truck lurching forward, tearing itself from the creatures grip.
The shape let out an ear piercing scream of rage and I
could feel its malevolence as it tried to chase me down.
My eyes darted to the rear view mirror and I screamed again as I
saw the shape gaining on me even at a speed well beyond what
should be possible. Panicked, I grabbed my pistol
and prepared to fire, despite knowing that it had shown an
eerie immunity to bullets earlier.
I didn't care. I needed to defend myself.
But then, in an instant, the shape disappeared.
I didn't immediately realize it, my focus still on the road
ahead, but when I finally glanced back, the shape was
nowhere to be seen. Relief flooded through me as I
approached the first set of St. lights marking the exit from the
ominous forest and the entrance to the town.
That was two weeks ago, and I haven't been the same since.
I can't bring myself to go outside after dark, and I've
avoided work and contact with friends and family.
The terrifying encounter still haunts my nightmares, and I
constantly relive the fear and dread of that night.
I don't expect anyone to believe my story, but I feel compelled
to share it as a warning. If you ever find yourself
driving alone on a dark, isolated Rd. through the woods,
do not stop. Keep your eyes on the road,
ignore anything flickering through the trees or crossing
your path, and drive as far away as you can, because you never
know what might be out there watching you, waiting for the
perfect moment to strike. In a quiet, remote town named
Sutton, my parents made a spontaneous decision to uproot
our lives and move there. The driving force behind this
abrupt change was the exorbitant rent prices in the city.
In Sutton, they could afford a spacious 3 bedroom house
complete with a guest room. Though it seemed unlikely we'd
ever have guests in this isolated place, our relocation
to Sutton was met with an initial facade of quaint charm.
The town boasted a small center adorned with shops and a
bustling marketplace. The residents, we soon
discovered, were deeply invested in various community activities,
from fruit and vegetable contests to seasonal
celebrations and regular town meetings.
It was as if they went to great lengths to distract themselves
from something ominous lurking beneath the surface.
I was initially resistant to the idea of moving, but I relented
when I saw how much happiness it brought my parents.
After all, I had only one year of school left before I was
planning to move away for college.
Little did we know that I would never leave Sutton.
Our arrival in Sutton occurred on the 1st of October, a year
ago, and we were warmly greeted by our new neighbors.
The first to welcome us we're the
Oh, what an excellent choice you made in buying this house,
Missus Miller gushed. And it's such a perfect time.
We noticed you have a daughter. She seems to be about the same
age as our Ethan. Perhaps he can introduce her to
all the joys of being a young person in Sutton.
Mr. Miller spoke with an unnatural haste.
My mother couldn't get a word in edgewise.
Yes, wouldn't that be wonderful? The three of you should come to
dinner sometime. We would love to introduce you
to our town, Missus, Miller continued.
Have you met Harry yet? My father rose from his seat and
approached the door slowly. Oh, you must be the husband.
Hello. My parents, being city dwellers,
were visibly overwhelmed by the warmth of the townsfolk, but
they couldn't help but smile when the Millers finally
departed. We indulged in the array of
treats they brought. However, our snacking was
repeatedly interrupted by new neighbors bringing more gifts.
After the last set of neighbors left, my father closed the door
and let out a sigh. The three of us shared a moment
of silence before bursting into laughter.
This will take some getting used to.
My mother giggled. But it could be worse, right?
Well, at least we won't have to worry about lunch or dinner
today, I added. We had a plethora of casseroles,
pies, and salads. Everyone had brought something.
They're a bit peculiar, but nice, I suppose, my father
remarked. I'm sure we'll adapt.
Besides, many parents are already arranging friendships
between you and their children. Avery, you're already quite
popular, he teased. Yes, maybe I can become friends
with Harry. Oh yes, What was that about?
My mother inquired. Everyone was talking about this
hairy person, but no one told us who he actually is.
Perhaps the mayor? Due to the fall holidays, my
school start was postponed. I hadn't planned on making
friends here, as I still had my friends back home, so I spent
those initial days with my parents.
The following day, my mother and I ventured to the grocery store
recommended by one of our neighbors.
We walked to the Town Center a mere 10 minute walk from our new
abode. I had expected a traditional
grocery store, but instead we found a small kiosk stocked only
with essential items. There were no recognizable
brands, mainly just locally produced vegetables and dairy.
The woman behind the register greeted us with a broad smile.
Excellent choice of items, she praised.
You should know that everything we sell is produced locally.
Oh, that's nice, my mother responded.
Well, not everything, but nearly so.
We're quite self reliant here and prefer it that way.
Harry wouldn't have it any other way.
She whispered, her tone changing.
My mother and I exchanged perplexed glances.
Yes, well who is this Harry, exactly?
We keep hearing that name, and my mother halted her words upon
witnessing the woman's countenance change drastically.
She had lost all color. You'll find out soon enough, but
hopefully not too soon. Just remember, we all stick
together here. This cryptic response left us
even more baffled, but the woman refused to provide any further
information. Instead, she tried diverting our
attention with details about the upcoming fall festival.
I wish she had been right and we had more time.
Unfortunately, fate had different plans.
My parents had already retired to bed, and the street outside
was eerily quiet. I was in my room, engrossed in
ATV show, when I heard peculiar footsteps, more like the sound
of someone dragging themselves along the floor.
I approached the window, initially unable to discern
anything in the darkness. All the lights in the
neighboring houses were extinguished, and I recalled
seeing residents lower their shades earlier in the evening.
As my eyes adjusted, I discerned the source of the sound.
I saw a man in tattered clothing with what looked like straw
protruding from his limbs. His movements were awkward and
slow, his body twisted and contorted as if he were in pain.
Yet periodically he would change direction, moving in a zigzag
pattern. I couldn't make out his face
until he stopped directly in front of our house and gazed up
at my window. I suddenly became acutely aware
that my room was the only one illuminated on the street.
My breathing quickened, but my body remained frozen.
And then my bedroom door swung open, plunging me Into Darkness.
I attempted to scream, but no sound emerged.
A hand grabbed me and pulled me into the hallway.
It was my father. Did you see that?
He whispered. My mother stood in front of
their bedroom door. I nodded, my voice finally
returning. I didn't want to admit that my
parents might be as terrified as I was.
He was staring at you, my mother whispered.
My father approached my room cautiously, and after some time
declared he's gone. Morning brought relief, and our
fear from the previous night seemed absurd.
In the daylight, it was probably just some drunk guy coming home
from an early Halloween party, My father suggested during
breakfast. Yeah, I agreed, although I
couldn't shake off the unnerving way he had stared at me.
My mother played with her scrambled eggs, her appetite
diminished. Could that man have been Harry?
She inquired after a moment. I had pondered the same
question. While we could laugh about it
now, it didn't change the fact that something about Sutton felt
profoundly unsettling. That evening, we received an
invitation to dine with the Millers.
Initially, I hesitated to join my parents, but curiosity about
Harry and Sutton ultimately compelled me to attend.
My mother brought along a bottle of her cherished wine, a remnant
from the city. The Millers were ecstatic about
it, and we sat down at their dinner table laden with
appetizers and decor. Indeed, these people are
exceptional hosts, my mother noted.
Mr. Miller opened the bottle and poured wine for all of us,
including me. This is absolutely marvelous.
I can't recall the last time I had wine, this exquisite missus
Miller exclaimed. I'm delighted you like it, my
mother responded. I still have a few bottles.
I can always order more when we're out.
The Millers exchanged an odd glance, but refrain from
commenting further. Ethan.
Mr. Miller suddenly called out. It's time to start dinner.
He turned toward us, apologizing Our son sometimes gets lost in
his own world. As we began eating, he finally
joined us. Ethan resembled his father with
jet black hair and a tall frame, while Missus Miller was shorter
with a crown of red curls. He was dressed casually in a
T-shirt and ripped jeans, a stark contrast to his parents
attire, which resembled something from a 1950s dinner
party. Ethan, meet our new neighbors,
Eli and Joanna Russell and their daughter Avery.
Hi, he mumbled, taking the empty seat across from me.
Ethan was the first person in Sutton whom we had met who
didn't smile upon seeing us. Throughout dinner, he remained
unusually quiet while his parents maintained their
relentless chatter. Towards the meal's end, my
mother decided to interrupt the peculiar couple by recounting
the events of the previous night.
A heavy silence descended upon the room.
The Millers appeared uncomfortable, but maintain
their smiles. That was Harry.
Ethan finally uttered. That's what I thought.
But we don't understand this. Does this happen frequently?
Does Harry have some sort of psychological issue?
My mother asked, her bluntness taking us aback.
Missus Miller shushed her. Sorry, Joanna.
That was rude of me. She glanced around.
It's just we don't speak. I'll of Harry.
Oh, I wasn't attempting to. The man was staring at our
daughter in the middle of the night and we were concerned,
that's all. We don't want you to feel
uncomfortable. Everyone here is thrilled that
you've moved to Sutton. Mr. Miller interjected.
It's just not easy to explain who Harry is.
Has he ever harmed anyone here? My father inquired again.
Silence. The dinner concluded Abruptly
and awkwardly. We departed with more questions
than answers. In the following days, my mother
suggested a day trip to explore nearby towns and find a proper
grocery store. Unspoken fear and unease had
settled over us, and we long to escape the clutches of Sutton.
We packed essentials and embarked on a journey.
Five hours of aimless driving led to a disconcerting
realization. There was no way to leave
Sutton. The GPS malfunctioned and the
streets seem to lead to dead ends.
We attempted retracing our path, only to discover that those
roads had inexplicably vanished. Desperation consumed us as we
navigated down a desolate Rd. away from Sutton.
We hoped this road would lead to our escape.
It was empty, with no houses insight only vast fields.
My father accelerated in a desperate bid to escape.
Yet our relief was short lived when we encountered something on
the road, initially unidentifiable from a distance,
it became clear as we approached a person slowly advancing toward
our car. We came to an abrupt stop before
him. Instantly I recognized the torn
clothing and the straw like protrusions.
Everything about him seemed surreal except for his face,
which bore human features with thick brows and thin lips.
We sat there for a moment as he dragged his frail body toward
our car. My mother locked the doors.
He opened his mouth, but no words emerged.
Then he extended his arm toward my mother's door.
That's when my father reversed the car.
When we had distanced ourselves sufficiently, he turned the car
around. We were nearly out of fuel, but
we somehow made it back to our new residence.
Upon our return, I noticed Ethan seated on their front porch,
engrossed in a book. My parents initially discouraged
me from approaching, but I convinced them it was harmless.
They set out to visit neighbors, seeking answers for our
desperate escape. Tried to leave.
Huh. Ethan remarked as I approached.
I nodded. He offered a half smile.
That seems sincere. What's happening here?
I attempted to conceal my anxiety.
You've fallen into the trap. Once you move to Sutton, you're
here for good. The only escape is death.
I swallowed hard. That's preposterous.
He shrugged. Doesn't make it any less true.
We were here before just to look at the house.
We left afterward. That was before you actually
lived here. Now it's too late.
A myriad of thoughts raced through my mind, but I realized
there was no point in denying the reality before me.
We had spent hours trying to leave a town that had
mysteriously transformed into a labyrinth.
I knew he was right, even if it felt profoundly wrong.
Frustration turned into anger. So why didn't anyone warn us?
I demanded. Ethan rose from the porch and
drew closer. Because they're all mad.
When the previous occupant of your house passed away, they
were simply elated to have new residents, new neighbors.
They can't leave, so they'll do anything for a taste of change,
even a glimpse of the outside. It will probably happen to you
and your parents soon enough. My mother cried The entire
evening. My father cycled through
emotions, from rationalizing to anger, from silence to
apologies. We tried reaching out to people
outside Sutton, but every message was distorted.
We are trapped. Would become.
We are so happy, and This Is Hell would transform into You
Should Move Here as well. Weeks turned into months and
Sutton became our new reality. My parents assimilated, dressing
and acting like the townsfolk, attending town events and
forming friendships that mirrored their own sense of
hopelessness. Harry wanted us to stay, the
residents wanted us to stay, and Sutton became our prison.
I don't particularly like people, and due to a multitude
of personal reasons, it seems that most people don't like me
either. To emphasize just how much I
prefer solitude, I recently purchased a new house that is
situated so remotely that my nearest neighbor is at least a
mile and a half away. It's just me surrounded by
nothing but the company of animals and the rustling trees
in every direction. Many would consider me crazy for
living in such isolation given the vulnerability to disasters,
but at this point in my life I don't think I care much about
that. Or so I thought.
How foolish I was. I left my previous town early in
the morning, and by the time I had navigated my worn out truck
and the few possessions I went up the winding path to my new
abode, it was already midday. The driveway was like a
monstrous serpent of earth and gravel that cut through the
dense pine forest. It stretched for about 1/3 of a
mile and was riddled with rocks and potholes, making me fear
that I might get stuck. Miraculously, I managed to avoid
needing a tow truck. As the trees and foliage gave
way, they revealed A clearing with a modestly sized cabin at
its center. I stepped out of my pickup,
slamming the door shut, which startled a few birds hiding
among the thick pine trees. Gravel crunched under foot as I
walked to the back of the truck to start unloading.
While I claimed not to have many possessions, it still took me
about 6 hours to unload everything.
The furniture, especially the armchair, nearly broke my back,
but my aversion to the company extended to not wanting any
assistance with moving. As I stretched and wiped the
sweat from my brow, I glanced up at the setting sun snap.
A loud cracking sound echoed from the woods, piercing the
air. Even at this considerable
distance. Must be a massive tree branch, I
muttered to myself, appearing in the direction of the sound.
The forest was so dense that visibility faded after about 50
feet, giving way to gnarled branches and darkness.
The setting sun cast eerie shadows that stretched across
the lawn towards my house. Although I tried to dismiss it,
I found myself fixated on the source of the noise.
Was it a deer? A bear?
Perhaps? At some point, I realized I've
been holding my breath and exhaled with a sigh.
Just as I was turning towards the steps leading to my front
porch, I heard another snap, louder and closer this time.
I whirled around to face it, but there was nothing there.
Jumping at twigs now, I chuckled to myself, finally breaking my
gaze from the forest and stepping into the cabin,
shutting the ornate wooden door behind me.
Standing in the entryway, I surveyed my new home with a
grin. It was indeed a nice place,
exuding the rustic charm of a classic Mountain Home.
It even had modern appliances and motion activated floodlights
on the outside, and I got it at a bargain price.
Despite my initial reluctance to unpack, most of my possessions
ended up in this room stacked neatly against the wall.
I removed my work boots and made my way to the kitchen to prepare
dinner, which consisted of ramen noodles and a beer.
I realized with a groan that I'd have to go grocery shopping.
Eventually. I unpacked the TV and an old
rocking chair, placing them in the living room to watch one of
the many cheesy bee movies I had brought with me.
I threw open a window for some fresh air and began to dig into
my ramen crack. I practically jumped out of my
skin when I heard it, another snapping branch in the woods.
Closer this time. I settled back down in my chair,
but my eyes remained fixed on the forest.
Why was this unsettling me so much?
The woods were filled with animals and sticks.
It was normal to hear branches snap now and then.
Despite my attempts to reassure myself, I continued to gaze out
the window. The darkness outside had
deepened, reducing visibility. Then I realized how quiet it had
become, excluding the loud branches.
No bird calls or chirping crickets.
Perhaps they were sleeping, I thought, but the absence of the
usual forest sounds began to gnaw at my nerves.
A headache was building at the back of my skull and sweat
beaded on my brow despite the cool air blowing through the
window. Enough of that, I muttered to
myself, getting up from the chair with a grunt and promptly
closing and latching the window. I regretted not bringing
curtains with me feeling exposed and vulnerable.
However, the 22 rifle I had brought offered a modicum of
comfort. I returned to my now cold meal,
realizing I had been staring out the window for longer than I
thought. After cleaning up, I headed down
the hall to my bedroom. It was around 10:00 PM and the
outside world was a sea of blackness without stars or moon,
making me feel like I was in space.
I took my medication, which was related to my aversion to
people, and climbed into bed. The mattress was surprisingly
comfortable, and I expected to drift into another dreamless
sleep soon crack. I sat up abruptly, looking
around the dark room. It wasn't my cozy bedroom that
greeted me, but an endless expanse of dark, silent woods in
all directions. I felt a sense of dread creeping
in as I realized something was terribly wrong.
I had never experienced a dream so vivid and disturbing.
Snap. The loud noise came from just a
few feet behind me, making me turn my head to see nothing but
the eerie darkness of the woods. I tried to calm myself,
rationalizing that it was just a dream, but I couldn't shake the
feeling of impending doom. Why was I here, in this forest,
alone and surrounded by darkness?
I noticed the absence of sound, except for the occasional
snapping of branches. No birds, no crickets, just an
eerie silence that intensified my fear.
I clutched the bed sheets, sweating profusely despite the
cool air. OK, enough of that, I said
aloud, forcing myself to get up from bed.
With a grunt, I closed and latched the window, longing for
curtains. I felt exposed and vulnerable,
but my 22 rifle provided some comfort.
I returned to my now cooling meal, trying to regain a sense
of normalcy. Sometime later, I went down the
hall to my bedroom. It was now around 10:00 PM, and
the moonless, starless night created an eerie atmosphere.
I took a sleeping pill, hoping it would help me avoid another
disturbing dream crack. I jolted awake, heart pounding,
and looked around the room in panic.
It was my bedroom, not the dark woods.
But the feeling of dread lingered and I realized I had
been screaming in my sleep. I wiped the sweat from my brow,
trying to shake off the lingering fear.
Why did that dream feel so real? The massive tree from the dream
haunted my thoughts. I turned toward the back door,
hesitating before opening it. The backyard was surrounded by
woods, with a massive tree stump at its center.
I had seen it in pictures when I bought the house, and most of
the wood for the cabin had come from that tree, but seeing it in
person brought back unsettling memories of the dream.
The days passed uneventfully, and it was almost as if I had
imagined the strange dream and the noises in the woods.
I settled into my routine of solitude, occasionally going
into town for supplies and groceries.
The forest no longer seemed as ominous during the daylight
hours, and I even started exploring the surrounding woods,
reminding myself that it was just my imagination playing
tricks on me. But as the days turned into
weeks, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
The woods felt alive, and every rustling leaf and snapping
branch seemed to be a warning. I became increasingly paranoid,
constantly checking the locks on my doors and windows and
sleeping with my rifle by my side.
One evening, as I sat in my living room watching another B
movie and trying to distract myself from my growing unease, I
heard it again. Snap.
This time it was accompanied by a low, guttural growl.
My heart raced as I turned off the TV and listened intently.
The growl came again, closer this time.
I grabbed my rifle and cautiously made my way to the
front door. I peered through the window, my
breath catching in my throat. In the dim light of the moon I
saw a pair of glowing eyes staring back at me from the edge
of the woods. They were unlike any animal eyes
I had ever seen. Cold and malevolent, I aimed my
rifle at the creature and fired, but it moved with lightning
speed, disappearing into the darkness before my shot could
hit its mark. The echoing gunshot filled the
silence, and I knew that whatever it was, it was not
afraid of me. The following nights were filled
with terror as the creature continued to stalk my home.
It would circle the cabin, scratching at the walls and
windows, letting out haunting howls that sent shivers down my
spine. I barricaded myself inside,
afraid to venture out even during the day.
I tried to call for help, but my remote location made it
impossible to get a cell signal. I was trapped, alone, and at the
mercy of this malevolent presence in the woods.
I began to doubt my decision to live in such isolation, and I
longed for the company of even the most disliked neighbor.
The creature's attacks grew more brazen, and I knew that it was
only a matter of time before it would find a way inside.
I had to come up with a plan, a way to defend myself against
this relentless terror. As I sat in my dimly lit cabin,
surrounded by the sounds of the creatures relentless pursuit, I
realized that my preference for solitude had brought me face to
face with a nightmare I could never have imagined.
Solitude was no longer a choice. It was a curse and I was its
prisoner. I knew that if I wanted to
survive, I would have to confront the creature in the
woods. It was a terrifying prospect,
but it was my only chance to regain my life insanity.
With my rifle in hand, I prepared to face the darkness
that had become my relentless tormentor.
After the unsettling encounter with the potential home invader,
the ominous presence in the forest surrounding my cabin grew
bolder and more aggressive. For the past four nights, a
recurring nightmare had haunted my sleep, a relentless pursuit
through the dark woods by an unseen malevolence.
Each morning I awoke with the disconcerting sensation that it
was inching closer to capturing me when my life began to
unravel. I slept less and ate sparingly,
the relentless headaches escalating in intensity.
I felt like I was falling apart, both physically and mentally.
Moving was financially out of the question.
My savings had been exhausted in securing this cabin.
It wasn't just the looming thread of homelessness that left
me a wreck. Discovering the existence of
unexplainable entities hidden beneath the facade of our
supposedly civilized and perfect world had shattered my sense of
reality. Questions that once seemed
absurd now gnawed at my sanity. Did vampires truly exist?
Had aliens ventured to Earth to abduct unsuspecting individuals?
Bigfoot. All these notions I dismissed as
nonsense took on a disconcerting gravity once.
I knew for certain that an abomination lurked just beyond
my sight. Though I had brought a firearm
with me for protection, the memory of the assailant, who met
a gruesome end on my lawn while brandishing a gun, had shaken my
confidence. I hadn't even heard a shot
fired. It seemed as though the entity
was aware of my trepidation. 2 nights ago, I heard it right
outside my bedroom window, closer than ever before.
I cowered behind my curtains as I heard a cacophony of tiny
clicks on the glass, as if it were tapping it with countless
minuscule fingers. It was a nauseating experience
and I couldn't fathom how it accomplished this.
Desperation drove me to search for answers online.
It led me to a self-proclaimed Monster Hunter, a man named Jay
whom I met on a forum dedicated to the inexplicable.
After recounting my harrowing tale to him, he agreed to help.
Jay believed the entity might be a forest spirit, one that could
potentially be defeated. Desperation compelled me to hire
this possible lunatic, divulging the location of my cabin.
Now I'll recount the events that unfolded since his arrival
midday brought Jay's arrival in my driveway, parking beside my
truck, and the abandoned car left by the thief.
I eyed him with suspicion as he stepped out of his car.
A seemingly average man with scruffy brown hair, standing
about 6 feet tall and slightly built, he spoke with a gruff
voice as I nervously inquired. Can I help you?
Jay approached the porch responding.
It's Jay, the guy you hired, right?
I'm at the right place, am I? He looked around, puzzled.
I stammered. Oh yeah, sorry, I just.
I thought you'd look like some kind of super tough guy, right?
Everyone who hires me says that, he quipped.
Common misconception. Don't need to look tough, only
need to be effective, right? He fixed me with a knowing gaze.
Speaking of appearances, you look like crap.
I rolled my eyes, replying with bitterness.
Yeah, I haven't been sleeping much, thanks to the nightmare
monster outside. Jay raised his hands
apologetically. Sorry.
Just trying to make small talk. I think I've got an idea on how
to deal with your little situation.
Going to invite me in, or are we just going to keep standing
around out here? Suppressing another snarky
comment, I LED Jay inside, locking the door behind us.
I briefly contemplated installing stronger locks, but I
doubted they'd be effective against this enigmatic entity in
the kitchen. I took a seat at a small table
while Jay sat opposite me. He wasted no time in explaining
his plan. Jay believed the entity to be a
nature spirit, an exceptionally angry one capable of gruesome
violence. He pointed out the giant tree
that had sprouted overnight in my yard as evidence of its
presence. His plan involved provoking the
entity by attacking the tree with an axe, luring it into a
confrontation on his terms. Concerned, I asked.
Are you sure angering it is a good idea?
And why do I have to help? Don't worry, I only need you to
turn on the floodlights outside your house.
The lights might disorient it and give me the chance to
neutralize it, Jay explained. I begrudgingly agreed, unable to
provide a compelling argument against his plan.
He was the expert, after all. I gave Jay an overview of the
entity's nocturnal activities, mentioning the strange clicking
noises it made. The following evening, Jay
arrived with his car and parked in my driveway.
We spent the day preparing for the confrontation.
As night fell, we stationed ourselves in my bedroom, which
offered a clearview of the backyard.
Both armed and on edge, We awaited the entity's arrival.
Hours passed in awkward silence until I finally broke it with a
question. So how many of these nature
spirits have you encountered before?
A sudden snap in the distance jolted us both.
It hadn't been more than five seconds since we turned our
attention away from the window, and yet the entity had appeared
beside the massive tree in my yard, a shadowy silhouette.
Swiftly, Jay grabbed a flashlight and switched it on,
casting a brilliant beam of light upon the creature.
I reflexively aimed my rifle at the site, but I was left in awe
as the details came into focus. The entity resembled an elk, but
it's otherworldly appearance was unmistakable.
Standing 10 feet tall at the shoulder, it was covered in dark
green fur, resembling Moss adorned with leafy branches and
twigs. Its enormous antlers gleamed
like polished quartz, giving it an air of regal beauty.
I was stunned by its presence, though My headache intensified.
Jay muttered. Damn, but unlike me, he showed
no signs of suffering from the headache that now plagued me.
I've never seen one of these look so regal, almost makes me
feel bad about killing it. Later, the entity remained
still, its crystalline eyes locking onto US.
Despite its mesmerizing appearance, I couldn't ignore
the overwhelming sensation that my brain was on the verge of
rupturing. I couldn't comprehend it.
Why had the sight of this creature driven the burglar to
scream in terror? The entity, while undeniably
unnatural, didn't seem terrifying.
Before I could investigate further, Jay turned off the
flashlight, plunging the backyard Into Darkness.
I could still make out the entity silhouette.
Another snap echoed through the night.
Hypothesis confirmed, Jay said, grinning.
However, he furrowed his brow. Upon seeing my condition.
I clutched my head, sweating profusely, and struggled to
speak. I stammered.
Jay dismissed my distress, suggesting that I might be
particularly sensitive to the entity's energy.
Then he casually announced that he would sleep on my couch for
the night, emphasizing the need to rest for the impending
confrontation. Now I find myself alone typing
this account on my phone. Although Jay had advised rest,
my mind races with the events of the evening 8:00 AM.
The day began with a sense of foreboding as I decided to
document my experiences. I plan to update throughout the
day just in case something terrible happened to me.
Jay, my friend, had shown off an eerie black armor that he
intended to wear for his hunt. This armor, he claimed, was
unique and held a special significance.
I assisted Jay in burying strange items in my backyard,
items meant to ensnare a mysterious entity.
After reading comments on my previous post, I decided to
investigate further in town to gather information about the
enigmatic woods. Jay surprisingly agreed with my
plan, but he had a stipulation. If I didn't return home in time,
he would proceed with his mission alone.
The uncertainty pushed me to seek answers. 10:36 AM in town,
I discreetly inquired about any unusual occurrences in the
woods, careful not to appear unhinged.
Frustratingly, people seemed clueless, or pretended to be.
I found myself trapped in a lengthy, absurd story from an
elderly man about a bear in a tree branch.
A comment on my previous post mentioned the grocery store
employee who gave me a strange look.
I attempted to find her again, only to discover she wasn't
working that day. Nevertheless, I resolved to keep
searching for her. 11:53 AM After a relentless search, I
finally found her at the town park feeding birds.
My haste surprised her initially, but she agreed to
discuss my concerns. It turned out she possessed
vital information. However, she insisted on
relocating to a more private place despite my reservations.
Despite my misgivings, I agreed to follow her promising updates
if I survived. 2:33 PM in her cozy home, Miss Pembroke, as I
learned to call her, began to share her knowledge.
Her living room exuded an elderly scent and I settled into
an overstuffed couch. Her Chihuahua, Barnabas,
occupied my lap. A curious choice for a dog's
name, Miss Pembroke then proceeded to explain her
connection to the mysterious entity.
She acknowledged that she had information I needed and
regretted not speaking earlier. Her own experiences with the
strange occurrences in the woods mirrored mine.
She revealed her traumatic past involving an abusive father and
indifferent neighbors, detailing her escape into the woods 1
fateful night. It was there that she
encountered the entity which she referred to as her.
Her story painted the entity as a guardian, saving her from a
terrible fate. I listened, captivated and
unsure of what to say. Her tale challenged my previous
perceptions and I realized there was more to the entity than I
had initially believed. 7:00 AM The following day my world
unravelled and I found myself in a dire situation.
I returned home at 3:50 PM after my conversation with Miss
Pembroke, only to discover Jay lounging on my couch watching AB
movie about giant ants. I attempted to discuss my new
found knowledge with him, hoping to convince him to abandon his
dangerous plan. Jay for once remained silent,
absorbing the information. However, my attempt to dissuade
him failed and he resorted to violence.
He struck me from behind, sending me crashing into the
fridge. Bloodied and unconscious for
hours, I drifted in and out of consciousness, eventually
awakening tied to my front door. Jay's treacherous act left me
helpless, and I felt an impending sense of doom snap.
A series of ominous sound signal Jay's approach from the woods,
executing his ill-fated plan. Desperation spurred me to free
myself from my restraints. After several agonizing
attempts, I managed to escape and retrieve My rifle floated
with the mysterious cursed bullet Jay had given me.
Snap outside, Jay confronted the entity trapped within a glowing
cage and unleashed a hail of bullets.
I desperately tried to stop him, but my shot unintentionally
killed Jay, ending his life and shattering the cage.
My world descended into chaos. Snap, the entity far from being
trapped, revealed its true form. A grotesque amalgamation of
broken bodies. A macabre mockery of an elk
haunted my vision. I was paralyzed with fear as it
approached, its malevolent presence overwhelming me.
Crack. Suddenly, the lights went out,
plunging the backyard Into Darkness.
In the ensuing chaos, my shot struck Jay instead of the
Entity. Jay's lifeless body crumpled to
the ground, a testament to my unintentional actions.
Snap. The Entity seized me with its
skeletal hands, its alien gaze penetrating my soul.
I felt its dark power surge through me, forging an
unbreakable bond. Snap.
In the aftermath, I discovered my new found connection to the
Entity. Understanding its true purpose,
my life had taken an unexpected turn, and I embraced my role as
the entity's ally. 836 AMI have transcended mortality, bound
eternally to the Entity. I am no longer a mere human, but
a chosen guardian of the woods. My headache has vanished,
replaced by clarity and purpose. In my dreams, I glimpsed the
entity's vision for a harmonious world where towering trees
provide shelter and protection. I'm not alone.
There are others like me, including Miss Pembroke.
We share a unique bond and an unwavering dedication to the
entity's 'cause. I am no longer burdened by the
trivial concerns of the past. My sole mission is to serve the
Entity to help bring about the world it envisions.
The trees are my allies and the Entity is my friend.
To those who read my story, you too can become a friend of the
entity. Embrace the transformation and
together we can shae a better world.