I must confess that I had always dismissed the countless stories
about the deep web and dark web as nothing more than
sensationalized tales, mere urban legends meant to send
shivers down one spine. However, a close friend of mine,
whom I trusted implicitly, adamantly swore that she had
ventured into this shadowy realm and had witnessed unspeakable
horrors, some of which she would divulge while others remained
locked in the recesses of her mind, forever haunting her.
Despite her solemn assertions, I initially brushed her accounts
aside, convincing myself that she was fabricating these
sinister tales out of a twisted desire for attention.
But curiosity gnawed at me, persistent and unrelenting.
I couldn't simply let it go. I yearn to discover the truth
behind her stories, to ascertain whether this place truly
existed. And so I found myself descending
into the depths of the Internet, embarking on a journey that
would forever alter my perception of reality.
Following the well trodden path of inquisitive individuals, I
ventured into the labyrinthine corridors of the deep web.
I had been forewarned about the treacherous nature of the links
that lay in wait, luring unsuspecting souls into a
sinister web of depravity. My initial clicks led me to
sordid rendezvous requests, illegal drug deals, and other
nefarious transactions, further confirming my skepticism.
The deep web appeared to be nothing more than a digital
marketplace for shadowy dealings devoid of the sinister mystique
that had been ascribed to it. However, I persisted in my quest
for something remotely intriguing, something that would
vindicate my friends unsettling claims.
And then, like a beacon in the darkness, I stumbled upon a link
the Night Watch. Intrigued, I clicked on it,
envisioning perhaps a platform where an enigmatic figure would
recount eerie tails or traverse desolate towns in the dead of
night. Little did I know what awaited
me. The moment I entered the Night
Watch, I was greeted by a stark black page.
Three video screens dominated the space, arranged side by
side. Each screen showcased a
different family or individual. In the first video, a family of
four was depicted with parents and two young girls.
The 2nd featured a pregnant couple, their joy and
anticipation palpable. The third video depicted A
solitary woman and her faithful black lab, distinguished by a
white streak over its left eye. Before I could scrutinize these
vignettes further, a male voice emanated from the shadows.
It was slightly distorted, rendering the speaker's true
timbre enigmatic. Nevertheless, I strained to hear
his words as he welcomed me with a chilling greeting.
Good evening. Tonight, the night Watchmen have
brought you 3 unique households. They live disparate lives,
harbour distinct beliefs, and envision disparate futures.
He paused, clearing his throat with an eerie undertone.
Watch each video and then choose one.
I was perplexed by the task at hand, struggling to comprehend
its purpose. Yet an inexplicable fascination
overcame me, compelling me to continue.
I hesitantly selected the first video, revealing fragments of
the family's life, moments of familial togetherness, domestic
activities, and ultimately the parents retiring to their
bedroom. The video abruptly cut off,
leaving me feeling like an intruder into their intimate
moments. A disconcerting, voyeuristic
sensation began to gnaw at my conscience.
Reluctantly, I clicked on the second video.
Immersing myself in the lives of the expectant couple, I observed
their shared excitement and love, their hopeful preparations
for the impending addition to their family.
This glimpse into their happiness managed to elicit a
smile, albeit 1. Tainted by the knowledge of my
intrusion into their personal lives, resigned to follow
through, I moved on to the final video.
It unveiled a single woman's solitary existence, marred by
disarray and loneliness. Dishes piled up, laundry
scattered, and trash overflowed. Her isolation weighed heavily
upon me as I watched her desperate attempts to fill the
void with television ice cream and an incessant obsession with
her phone. I squirmed uncomfortably as the
video took an explicit turn, capturing moments I had no
business witnessing. Thankfully, the video ended and
I found myself waiting for the next stage of this surreal
experience. The videos reverted to their
initial stills and the voice resurfaced.
Now that you have seen which will you choose?
It queried, leaving me in silence, praying that someone
else might be sharing in this macabre ordeal.
But time passed without a response.
The videos vanished, replaced by three new screens.
This time the content was harrowing. 3 towering figures,
unmistakably men by their imposing presence, appeared clad
in identical attire, black shirts, pants, boots, and long
trench coats. Wide brimmed black hats obscured
their features, lending an air of malevolence to their
silhouettes. Have you decided?
The voice inquired, its tone unsettlingly calm.
Death comes on swift wings for our I'll fated friends, you must
choose one. That's how the game goes.
The implications of this grotesque game were thrust upon
me, and I was horrified. Was I truly tasked with choosing
who lived and who perished? The absurdity of it all made me
consider closing the page, but before I could act, the voice
interjected. Before you close us down, you
should know that if you do not choose, your family will be
next. The words reverberated through
me, jolting me from my stupor. I dismissed it as a mere scare
tactic, but then, to my horror, the voice addressed me directly.
Anna, dear sweet Anna, I know it's a difficult choice, but it
must be made. Please, if you will direct the
night Watchmen to their chore. My heart pounded in my chest as
I gazed at the screens, my eyes darting between the unfortunate
families. The weight of responsibility
bore down on me. The family with children was out
of the question. The expectant couples dreams
hung in the balance, and then my gaze fell upon the lonely woman
with her faithful dog the least to lose.
With a heavy heart, I made my choice, clicking on her video.
Very well, so shall it be. The voice responded.
Its serenity restored, the night watchman.
A choice has been made. You may attend to your work.
The videos returned to the previous scenes, and a sense of
foreboding washed over me. Maybe this was all an elaborate
prank by a group of hackers, I reasoned aloud, attempting to
quell my rising fear. But then the voice spoke again,
uttering my name, and my heart seized with terror.
Anna, dear sweet Anna, it intoned, sending shivers down my
spine. I know it's a difficult choice,
but it must be made. Please, if you will direct the
Night Watchmen to their chore. The videos shifted, revealing
the night Watchmen once more. Two of them approached their
designated households, while the third retreated into the
darkness, disappearing from view.
Confusion washed over me. I had chosen the lonely woman,
yet her watchman was walking away, vanishing into the night,
leaving me bewildered and anxious.
As the videos played out, two Watchmen entered their
respective homes. 1 Stood menacingly at the foot of a
sleeping couple's bed, brandishing A gleaming machete.
He swung it wildly, and the room erupted in screams of terror.
I felt a lump rise in my throat, vile, threatening to surge
forth. I averted my gaze to the other
video, where the remaining Watchmen loomed in the
children's room, positioned amidst the pink bunk beds.
My scream merged with the cacophony as he raised his
machete, and in that moment I yanked the computer plug from
the wall, severing the gruesome spectacle.
My mind reeled in horror, unable to comprehend the unfathomable
act I had just borne witness to. What had I done?
My mouth was dry, my head spun with dizziness, and my heart
threatened to burst from my chest.
Hours passed, and I was left to grapple with the torment of my
actions. Eventually, I dared to approach
my computer, praying that the nightmarish ordeal had been
erased from existence. I found nothing amiss, as if the
twisted reality I had stumbled into had never existed.
Days later, while checking my e-mail, a sense of dread washed
over me as I discovered a message from an entity I never
wished to hear from, the night watchman.
With trepidation, I opened the e-mail, inexplicably compelled
to confront the sinister enigma that had infiltrated my life.
The e-mail contained only a few haunting words against a stark
white background. Jenna thanks you for excluding
her from a night watchman's fate.
We thank you for your choices, too, and we truly enjoyed our
encounter with you. Come play again, anytime.
Attached was an image of the lonely woman still engrossed in
her phone, walking her dog in the park.
My soul shuddered with revulsion.
I vowed never to venture into the dark abyss of the deep web
again, forever haunted by the choices I had been forced to
make and the chilling encounter that had unraveled before me.
I've always loved Halloween, ever since I was a kid.
I would eagerly anticipate it each year, counting down the
days until I could dress up, carve pumpkins, and go trick or
treating with my friends. Halloween was that one magical
night when anything could happen, and I reveled in the
thrill it brought. So when I stumbled upon an
advertisement for seasonal workers at a local theme park
hosting a Halloween event, I jumped at the opportunity.
It seemed like the perfect way to earn some extra money while
having fun. The ad mentioned they were
looking for actors, makeup artists, costume designers, and
various staff to create a spine tingling atmosphere for the
park's guests. Naturally, I applied for the
actor position, hoping to scare the daylights out of people with
my acting skills. A few days later, I received a
call from the theme park inviting me to audition.
The audition was held at the theme park itself, in a dimly
lit backstage area. There were about a dozen other
people, all dressed in various costumes and makeup, waiting
nervously. I watched as they performed
their scenes, some of them impressively good, which made me
doubt my own chances, while others left much to be desired.
When my turn finally came, I walked up to the stage where a
man with a clipboard introduced himself as the director of the
Halloween event. He asked for my name and I
replied I'm Alex. He smiled and inquired.
Nice to meet you, Alex, what scene will you be performing
today? I confidently replied.
A scene from The Shining. He nodded and said, Ah, a
classic. Let's see what you've got.
With a deep breath, I began to act out the scene.
I must admit, it felt a bit awkward, but to my surprise, the
director seemed pleased with my performance.
I couldn't believe it. I got hired as an actor for the
Halloween event. After thanking him profusely and
signing some paperwork, he handed me my schedule.
I was going to play one of the killers in the haunted house
called the Slaughterhouse. One of the park's most popular
attractions. The Slaughterhouse was located
at the far end of the theme park, near the woods.
It was designed to resemble an old abandoned factory where
people were tortured and killed by sadistic killers wearing
animal masks. Guests would navigate through
dark corridors and rooms filled with gruesome props and effects,
including severed limbs, hanging bodies, chainsaws, and plenty of
terrifying screams. My role was to hide in one of
the rooms, waiting to jump out at unsuspecting guests with my
meat cleaver aiming to send them fleeing in terror.
The first night of work was exhilarating.
I arrived an hour early, changed into my costume, and applied my
makeup. I looked quite menacing in a
blood stained apron, a butcher's hat and a fake meat cleaver.
The thrill of scaring people was unlike anything else, and I
relished every moment of it. Seeing the guests terrified
reactions as I emerge from the shadows was a pure delight.
Week after week, I continued working at the slaughterhouse
every Friday and Saturday night from 7:00 PM to midnight.
Each night was a unique experience with different
reactions from the guests. It was a job where boredom
simply did not exist, and I began to think that I might have
found my true calling. The climax of my time at the
park was Halloween night, the grand finale of the Halloween
event. The park was packed with
enthusiastic guests eager to celebrate the holiday in style.
Decorations were more elaborate, the music was louder, and the
staff was more energetic than ever.
As I arrived at my locker an hour early as usual, I found a
note from the director along with a new costume and makeup
kit. The note congratulated me for my
hard work and dedication and informed me that I've been given
a special role for the night. I was to play the leader of the
killers wearing a pig mask. Excitement surged through me as
I donned the new costume and applied the makeup, transforming
into a terrifying figure in the slaughterhouse.
My fellow actors and I gathered all of us having received
similar notes from the director about our special roles for the
night. The anticipation was palpable as
we waited for the event to begin.
Little did we know that this Halloween night would turn into
something far more chilling than we could have ever imagined.
The night started off according to plan, with us terrifying
guests as usual. But as the hours passed,
something unexpected happened. An announcement came over the
loud speakers, but it was not the director's voice.
It sounded strange, ominous. The announcement called for a
real slaughter, a grand finale for the night.
The lights inside the slaughterhouse suddenly went
out, plunging us into complete darkness.
Panic began to creep in as we fumble in the dark, trying to
make sense of the situation. After a long minute of silence,
screams pierced the air, but they were different from the
usual terrified screams. These were filled with genuine
agony and terror. My heart pounded in my chest as
I realized something was terribly wrong.
A few of us rushed to investigate the source of the
screams and stumbled upon a horrifying sight.
Two individuals dressed like us. We're chasing guests with knives
inflicting real harm in the dim light.
I saw a body lying on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood.
Chaos erupted as guests fled in all directions, some stumbling
and falling in the Stampede. My Co workers and I tried to
help but we were overwhelmed and bewildered.
I attempted to contact the director and the lighting crew,
but there was no response. Amid the pandemonium, the
announcement over the loud speakers took an even darker
turn. It was no longer just a twisted
prank, it had become a real nightmare.
The lights never came back on and the screams and chaos
continued. It was as though we were trapped
in a real life horror movie. Finally, when it was nearly
midnight, the park security and police arrived swiftly
containing the scene. The assailants were apprehended,
but the damage had been done. The director was found
unresponsive in his office and the park immediately shut down
the event, offering apologies and refunds to the traumatized
guests. My Co workers and I provided
statements to the authorities trying to piece together the
terrifying ordeal. It turned out that a former
employee and his friends, for reasons unknown, had infiltrated
the event, exploiting the chaos to carry out their twisted plan.
What was meant to be a joyous Halloween celebration had turned
into a nightmarish tragedy. In the aftermath, I was left
shaken to my core, my love for Halloween forever tainted by the
horrifying events of that night. The park never fully recovered,
and I doubt I will ever be the same after experiencing the thin
line between the thrill of fear and the true terror of reality.
When I was 13 years old, I had an experience that even now, at
the age of 26, still sends shivers down my spine.
It was a Saturday night during the summertime, around 9:00 or
10:00 PM. My family and I lived in a
modest apartment on the first floor of a ten floor building.
Our apartment was situated right at the entrance, making it
impossible to escape the sounds of anyone passing by.
Little did I know that this fact would play a crucial role in the
terrifying events that unfolded that night.
At that time, I was deeply engrossed in a video game called
Perfect World International on my PC.
My beloved dog Benny was my only companion at home that evening.
My parents, on the other hand, decided to go for a walk around
the block, taking Benny with them.
They asked if I wanted to join, but I declined, wanting to
continue playing the game. They assured me it wouldn't take
more than 30 minutes, so I agreed to stay home alone.
As my parents got ready to leave, I logged into the game
and checked my Guild and global chat to see if anyone was
online. Strangely, no one was online
that night, which was quite unusual.
Feeling a bit lonely and restless, I decided to change my
mind and join my parents on their walk.
I quickly got dressed, put Benny on his leash, and left our
apartment. The apartment building had a
foreboding aura, especially at night.
Being on the ground floor meant we could hear every sound from
outside, which often sent chills down my spine, but I pushed
those thoughts aside as I joined my parents.
We set off on our walk, enjoying the warm summer evening.
However, after about 15 minutes, the atmosphere shifted
dramatically. The gentle summer breeze
suddenly turned into an ominous foreboding wind, signaling an
incoming storm. My mother made the call to
return home, and Benny had already completed his business.
We approached our building, a place that had always given me
an eerie feeling. It was particularly dark on the
side facing the blocks garden because there was no street
light nearby. My father took the lead in
unlocking the door, but as he attempted to unlock the final
metal bar that secured it from the inside, his expression
turned deadly serious. He paused and turned to my
mother and me, his face etched with concern.
In a hushed voice, he instructed us to call the police and alert
the neighbors. Panic welled up within me as my
mother rushed to the second apartment, where our neighbor
Ted emerged, asking what was wrong.
My dad whispered to Ted, obscuring the peephole of the
door. Someone's in our house.
They're holding the door. Please stay here with my family.
I'll try to open it, but I'll be back.
With that, my father sprinted alone into the darkness,
shouting angrily. Hey, you, come back.
Who the hell do you think you are?
I'm calling the police. I followed my dad, not too
closely, but enough to hear if he encountered trouble.
After all, he was my father, and I couldn't help but worry.
As I stepped outside, the darkness enveloped me,
intensified by the absence of any St. lights near our
apartment. My heart raced as I heard my
father's distant shouts come back and I'm calling the police.
My anxiety continued to grow, and I couldn't help but imagine
the worst scenarios unfolding in the midst of my fear.
Ted managed to open the door and we hurriedly entered our
apartment. But what awaited us inside was
beyond horrifying. In just 15 minutes, our once
serene home had been transformed into a chaotic nightmare.
Shelves had been pulled out and our clothes were strewn all over
the house. Benny's dry food covered the
floor, a clear sign that the intruders had stumbled upon his
bowls, likely unaware we had a dog.
What disturbed me the most was the calculated precision of the
break in. They had organized our
belongings in the living room, meticulously selecting what they
wanted to take with them. Laptops, one of our TV's, my
father's prized coin collection, phones, chargers, wallets, and
even my father's camera, which he needed for a wedding
assignment that week, all packed and ready to be stolen.
But they hadn't had enough time to grab everything, so they
settled for some of my mother's jewelry and pocket money.
My heart sank as I rushed to my room, fearing the worst for my
Piggy Bank. I had diligently saved money
from my meager chores, and while it wasn't much, it represented
my hard work and savings at the time.
As I entered my room, a chilling sight met my eyes.
The metal bars covering my window had been cut open and my
window was shattered. It was the point of entry for
the intruders. My room was the only one facing
the side of the building, secluded from prying eyes.
It was at that moment that I realized I would never feel safe
in my own room again. The police arrived, scattering
white dust throughout our home in search of fingerprints.
They took photographs, collected statements, and examined my
broken window. Sadly, they couldn't apprehend
the intruders, but they did share a grim revelation with us.
Our home invasion was not an isolated incident.
During that month, four other houses in our neighborhood had
been broken into, one of them belonging to a police officer
unrelated to our case. The intruders had studied their
victims, learned their schedules, and even knew the
layout of their homes, often entering through children's
windows. All the affected families had
children like us. The realization that our privacy
had been invaded by organized criminals left a lasting scar on
our family. If we hadn't returned home
earlier than expected, I might have come face to face with
these intruders. I shudder at the thought and
pray I never have to meet them again.
I work hard during the evenings as a flight attendant,
particularly on our overnight flights.
I'm responsible for Delta flights from Buffalo, NY to
various destinations across America.
As you can imagine, the nights are usually hectic, with
terminals flooded by passengers. My role involves ticket
acceptance or denial, which often results in long lines of
people rushing to catch their flights, and they're usually
feeling quite agitated. It's a tough job, but it could
always be worse. That fateful day started with an
unusual delay. I overslept.
I'm usually punctual, but something about the stress from
late night flights had taken its toll on my sleep schedule.
I woke up a full hour later than I was supposed to, causing panic
to set in. In my haste, I grabbed
everything I needed and sprinted to my Acura, which was parked in
the driveway. But as luck would have it, I had
to turn around because I'd forgotten my purse, car keys,
and lunch for work. Those 10 minutes felt like an
eternity, and by the time I got back to the car, I was already 2
hours late. I called my boss to apologize,
profusely, thanking her for covering for me.
It was the first time in eight years that I've been late, so
thankfully she understood the situation.
I rushed out of the driveway and onto the main road, still trying
to make it to work as quickly as possible.
In retrospect, my reckless driving probably would have
gotten me into trouble if a police officer had caught me.
As I speed along, I passed a dark blue Ford that had been
swerving in front of me for the past three miles.
I blared my horn as I went past, and the driver gave me a polite
flip of the bird. However, instead of letting me
go, he began tailing me for the next 5 minutes.
Admittedly, I knew I was in the wrong, but his erratic driving
was endangering others on the road.
I watched in growing concern as he nearly collided with a black
car driven by an older woman. She looked petrified as his
vehicle came dangerously close to hers.
Swerving just in time to avoid a collision.
I tried to maintain my speed and distance from him, but he
continued his erratic behavior. Eventually, he lost control and
veered off the road into a ditch.
After clipping a motorcycle, I pulled over to the side of the
road to help and discovered that the motorcyclist was unconscious
and bleeding profusely. My hands were trembling as I
called an ambulance and gave my statement when the officers
arrived. The ambulance rushed both
drivers to the hospital, but the motorcyclist was declared dead
upon arrival. The officers assured me they
would be in touch if they needed any further details.
Feeling numb, I eventually made my way to my desk at the
airport, where I explained the morning's events to my boss.
My hands were cold and my fingers wouldn't cooperate
properly, but I managed to put on a smile as I greeted the
passengers boarding the flight. Everything seemed normal until
one woman disembarked and answered a phone call.
At first she appeared excited, but her demeanor quickly changed
as she began to break down at the desk, screaming in a way I
had never heard before. She was screaming about her son
being dead, and her husband, who looked equally shocked, muttered
to himself about how he knew the motorcycle would be the end of
him. It was then that I realized that
this was the same motorcyclist, the one who had been following
me and got clipped and killed earlier.
I stood there virtually paralyzed as the family rushed
out of the terminal on my way home.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I saw the lone headlight of
a motorcycle following closely behind me.
The events of that day would haunt me for a long time, a
reminder that life can take a terrifying turn in an instant.
Several years ago, when I was just 14 years old, I experienced
a chilling and unforgettable encounter during an evening
winter walk on Cape Cod in Massachusetts.
Our family had a summer house on Cape Cod, and we spent every
other weekend there whenever we could escape the hustle and
bustle of New York City. Cape Cod, a peninsula off the
East Coast of Massachusetts, was a lively and crowded place
during the summertime, but during the winter season it
transformed into an empty and desolate landscape.
Most of the houses in our area were summer residences, and
during the winter these houses stood eerily silent, devoid of
their usual occupants. In stark contrast to New York,
where city lights never allowed the night to truly darken, Cape
Cod had only St. lamps along its single main road in the town.
The Main Rd. Stretched from the Town Center
to the beach, and aside from this road, all the other streets
were cloaked in darkness. At night, the Cape extended out
into the Atlantic Ocean, forming Cape Cod Bay, allowing us to
witness both breathtaking sunrises over the Atlantic and
mesmerizing sunsets over the Bay.
This proximity to the ocean also meant that there were minimal
artificial lights at night, making the stars shine
brilliantly. On clear nights, the Milky Way
spanned across the sky, creating a captivating celestial display.
The events of this story unfolded during the period
between Christmas and New Year's Day.
After the Christmas celebrations were over, our family found
ourselves with an abundance of leftover Turkey and pumpkin pie.
Cabin fever began to set in as we spent days indulging in
Christmas feasts and surrounded by family.
One evening. My older sister, who was seven
years my senior and 20 years old at the time, proposed an idea to
break the monotony, a walk to the harbor approximately a 20
minute journey from our cozy Cape Cod cottage.
The harbor had a unique charm during the winter as we could
explore the quiet docks and wander among the boats.
Although the thought of strolling through a deserted
beach town on a cold winter night gave me a sense of unease,
I also found the prospect of an adventure thrilling.
As we ventured out into the darkness.
Crossing the street from our classic Cape Cod cottage, we
were met with a vast field that gradually transitioned into a
dense forest at the other end. The tall grass in the field
added to the eerie ambience of the night, and a sense of
foreboding crept over me. I couldn't help but entertain
thoughts of potential psychopaths lurking in the tall
grass, armed with axes. Even though I knew it was just
my imagination running wild. The setting was ripe for a
horror movie, a moonless sky filled with sparkling stars, the
Milky Way arching overhead, and a sense of isolation enveloping
us. We continued our walk, reaching
the main road, and then turned onto a side street that led
downhill toward the harbor. This side street ran along the
backside of a long yellow painted motel with a pool, a
lively hub during the summer months.
However, on this December evening, the motel was closed
for the season, shrouded in darkness with several windows
covered in plywood for protection.
My sister couldn't help but remark how the motel, spanning
an entire block yet partially boarded up, reminded her of the
kind of horror movie where characters make all the wrong
decisions and stumble into their worst nightmares.
As we proceeded down the road, we realized that we hadn't
encountered a single car, person, or sign of life since
leaving our house. The absence of any signs of life
began to weigh on our nerves. I was only 13 at the time, but I
was determined to maintain a facade of toughness in front of
my older sister. The woods alongside the road
intensified our unease. The trees seem to close in on
us, offering countless hiding spots for someone or something.
The houses beyond the woods were all dark as winter vacationers
rarely ventured to this area. It was then that I felt it, an
inexplicable sensation tingling up the back of my neck, causing
the hairs to stand on end. This peculiar feeling was
something I experienced when I believed I was being watched.
An eerie 6th sense, or perhaps just a heightened intuition.
We found ourselves halfway into the wooded area, still
descending toward the harbor. My composure was slipping, and I
was on the verge of abandoning my tough act when my sister
suddenly suggested let's go back.
It's getting late and it's pretty creepy here.
I seized the opportunity and replied.
Yeah, it's kind of eerie. I could feel my body trembling
with a mix of fear and excitement.
As we turned around. My sister gripped my hand
tightly, a rare display of affection from her.
The moonless night and the dark, deserted streets only fueled our
anxiety. As we retraced our steps, my
sister suddenly let out a scream that sent shivers down my spine.
I've got a knife, and I'm not afraid to use it.
She maintained her brisk pace without missing a beat.
We crossed the street, and when my sister cast a panicked glance
behind us, I could hear a worried sound.
Escape her lips. She ordered me.
Don't look back. My heart raced and a chilling
sense of dread enveloped me. Apart from the eerie atmosphere
and my sister's inexplicable behavior, I hadn't seen anything
unusual. We continued our hasty retreat,
making our way to the street behind the closed motel.
My sister kept looking back, her apprehension intensifying.
That's when she commanded. When I say run, you run.
OK, OK, I replied nervously. We were now approaching the end
of the wooded area, and I was losing my composure entirely.
My sister suddenly shouted. Run.
We both broke into a Sprint, our footsteps echoing loudly on the
asphalt. I could hear more footsteps in
the distance behind us, Cutting through a grassy area.
We took a shortcut toward our street, running through our
neighbors front yards to reach the safety of our home.
We finally made it inside, breathless and panicked, and
locked the storm door behind us. The transition from the terror
outside to the warmth and light of our house was surreal.
Inside, I struggled to comprehend what had just
occurred, my sister's bizarre behavior, and the lingering
sense of unease. My sister seemed equally
uncertain, questioning whether there had been a real threat or
if we had both allowed our imaginations to run wild.
I asked my sister what she had seen, and she explained that
there was a man standing at the edge of one of the driveways we
had passed. She claimed that as we were
heading back, he had crossed the street and appeared to be
following us. She emphasized that he had been
staring directly at us, and it's seemingly been closing the
distance. Despite our fast pace, it made
no sense for a man to be standing alone in that dark,
wooded area at that time of night.
To this day, I remain uncertain about the events of that night.
I'm not sure how much of my sister's account was true, or if
we had both allowed fear to play tricks on our minds.
Regardless, one thing became clear.
I had developed a strong preference for daytime walks to
the harbor on Cape Cod. The frosty air bit at my cheeks
as I trudged through the dense Wyoming forest.
It was a typical January afternoon, the kind where the
sun plays, hide and seek behind the clouds, casting long,
wavering shadows across the snow blanketed ground.
I've always preferred hiking during these off seasons.
The trails are less trodden, the world quieter, more
introspective. It's just you, the crisp air and
the occasional deer footprint. That day, though, the silence
felt heavier, the isolation more pronounced.
As I walked, my breath formed, small puffs of vapor
disappearing as quickly as they appeared like fleeting thoughts.
I was wrapped up in my own, pondering over the little
things, An unpaid bill, a forgotten errand.
When I saw it, a camera, a sleek SLR perched precariously on a
large boulder, as if it were deliberately placed to catch my
attention. For a moment, I just stood
there, squinting at it against the backdrop of the snow.
Cameras are not what you expect to find in the middle of a
Wyoming forest. I glanced around, half expecting
someone to emerge from the trees, laughing at their prank.
But there was nothing, just the sound of the wind whispering
through the Pines. Curiosity nudged me forward.
The camera was an enigma, a sleek contrast to the rough
natural setting. As I neared it, I noticed a
yellow sticky note attached to the bottom, the handwriting
almost playful. Finders keepers, It read,
followed by a crudely drawn :). My eyebrows furrowed.
This had to be a joke, right? But who leaves an expensive
camera out here as a prank? I picked it up, the metal cold,
but not as icy as I expected given the temperature.
It was like it had been recently handled, the warmth of human
touch still lingering. I scanned the area again,
nothing but trees and the occasional bird call.
The camera felt right in my hands, familiar despite its
strangeness. I've never been much of A
photography buff, but I knew enough to recognize that this
was a high end model. I waited, Considering my
options, the right thing would be to leave it, or maybe take it
to the local Ranger station. But then there was that note and
the camera's apparent value. It seemed wasteful to just leave
it there. I decided to carry on with my
hike, the camera slung around my neck.
Maybe I'd bump into its owner further down the trail, but deep
down, a small voice whispered that the camera was now mine, a
gift from the forest, or perhaps a trap.
I couldn't resist testing it. I aimed at the sky, where the
clouds hung low and heavy, and snapped a photo, then another of
the trail winding ahead. Each click of the shutter was
satisfying, yet each picture that appeared on the digital
screen seemed off. The colors were muted, the
images tinged with a grayish yellow hue, like old photographs
forgotten in a sunlit room. Shrugging off the unease, I
continued my hike, the camera constant curious presence at my
side. Little did I know, this simple
walk through the woods would soon spiral into a nightmare,
the camera at its center, a nightmare that would make me
question not just the forest around me, but the very fabric
of reality itself. The following morning, the dull
Gray light of dawn seeped through the curtains of my small
cabin, painting the room in a monochrome hue.
I lay there for a while, the events of the previous day
replaying in my mind. The camera sat on my desk, a
silent, enigmatic Sentinel. It was just an object, yet it
felt like it had a presence await beyond its physical form.
After a strong cup of coffee, I decided to seek out Dave.
He had a knack for electronics and a curiosity that matched
mine. The drive to his place was
quiet, the roads empty and the sky a blanket of overcast gloom.
I found him in his usual state, surrounded by a chaos of gadgets
and tools in his garage. Hey, what brings you here this
early? Dave asked, wiping his hands on
a rag. I handed him the camera.
Found this in the woods yesterday.
Something's off about it. He turned it over in his hands,
his brow furrowing. SLR, huh?
But no brand. That's odd.
He examined the pictures I had taken.
These look weird, like there's a filter or something.
I nodded, watching him closely. Try taking a picture, see if
it's just the landscape shots that come out strange.
He shrugged and pointed the camera at me.
I posed half heartedly, smiling, and he clicked the shutter.
We both looked at the screen, expecting another oddly colored
image, but this one was different.
It wasn't just the colors. My face was twisted, my features
grotesquely distorted. What?
The Dave's voice trailed off as he looked from the screen to me
and back again. This has to be some sort of
trick camera, right? I took the camera back, a shiver
running down my spine. I'm not so sure.
We spent the next hour trying to figure it out, checking for
filters, hidden settings, anything that could explain the
images. But the camera was like a puzzle
without a solution. I know someone who might help, I
said, finally thinking of Jim. He used to work in a camera shop
in town, knew everything there was to know about photography.
But Jim had had a rough couple of years.
Last I heard, he was at Saint Daniel's mental health facility.
Dave raised an eyebrow. You think he can help?
I can't hurt to ask. St.
Daniel's was a stark, imposing building on the outskirts of
town. I signed in at the front desk,
claiming to be Jim's cousin. They led me to a common area
where Jim sat alone, staring out a window.
Jim. I approached cautiously.
He turned slowly, his eyes vacant at first, then sharpening
as they focused on me. Do I know you?
I hesitated, then decided to be direct.
I found a camera, Jim. An SLR.
The pictures. They're not right.
His expression changed, then a flicker of recognition, Then
fear. The camera.
You shouldn't have taken it. You need to get rid of it.
Why? What's wrong with it?
I pressed. He looked around nervously, then
leaned in close. It's not just a camera.
It sees things. Things it shouldn't, things from
elsewhere. It's dangerous.
Before I could ask more, a nurse approached her expression Stern.
Time's up, she said, guiding me away.
Jim's words echoed in my mind as I left the facility, the sense
of unease growing. What had I stumbled upon?
There's something about being told you're holding a dangerous
object that makes you want to understand it more, not less.
Jim's words had lodged themselves in my mind like a
splinter. I needed answers, and the only
place I could think of to start was back at the beginning, the
trail where I'd found the camera.
The drive to the forest was tense, my thoughts a tangle of
anxiety and curiosity. I parked at the trailhead, the
camera resting on the passenger seat, it's presence now feeling
more ominous than intriguing. As I walked the familiar path,
the air felt heavier, the silence more oppressive.
Reaching the spot where I'd found the camera, I stopped.
The forest seemed different, altered in subtle, unsettling
ways. The trees were gnarled, their
branches twisted into grotesque shapes, mirroring the distorted
images I'd captured with the camera.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I realized the changes
weren't just in the trees. The very landscape around me
seemed off. The colors muted, the air thick
with an unnameable dread. It was as if the camera had not
just captured the forest, but changed it, infecting it with
its otherworldly malevolence. I lifted the camera, my hand
trembling slightly, and took a photo of the warped scenery.
The image on the screen was as twisted as the reality before
me. That's when I heard a voice
chillingly familiar. Have you figured it out yet?
I spun around. Standing there in the flesh was
Dave, but not the Dave I knew. His features were distorted, his
smile a grotesque caricature. Beside him was Jim, his eyes
wild, his face a mask of madness.
You shouldn't have brought it back here, Jim hissed.
Who are you? I stammered, backing away.
What do you want? We're not who you think, The
distorted Dave said, his voice a guttural echo.
We're from another place. Your camera.
It opened a door. My mind raced, trying to
comprehend what they were saying.
Another place. A door.
The camera, Jim continued, his voice trembling.
It's a gateway. We use it to reach your world,
to transform it. I looked from one to the other,
horror gripping me. They weren't human, not anymore.
They were something else, something otherworldly,
corrupted by the cameras. Influence.
I thought of running, but something held me in place.
Fear, maybe, or the desperate need to understand.
How do I stop it? I asked, my voice barely a
whisper. You can't, the entity that used
to be Dave said. It's too late.
The changes have begun. They moved closer, and I could
see now the true extent of their transformation.
Their skin was modeled, their eyes hollow.
They were no longer of this world, but something far more
sinister As they approached. I did the only thing I could
think of. I raised the camera and took
their picture. The flash seemed to startle
them, giving me just enough time to turn and run.
I didn't stop until I reached my truck, my breath ragged, my
heart pounding. I threw the camera onto the seat
and drove away, leaving the forest and it's twisted
inhabitants behind. But I knew it wasn't over.
The camera had unleashed something terrible, and I had
unwittingly become part of it. I had to find a way to close the
gateway, to undo what I had done.
But how? How do you fight something that
can twist reality itself? There are moments in life when
reality shifts, and what you thought you knew crumbles away.
Driving away from that forest, the camera beside me, I felt as
though I was caught in a current, powerless against the
pull of something vast and unknowable.
I didn't head home. Instead I drove aimlessly, my
mind a Whirlpool of fear and confusion.
The words of the twisted versions of Dave and Jim echoed
in my ears. A gateway.
Another place. Transformations.
I thought of the distorted landscape, the unnatural silence
that hung over the forest. Whatever I had unleashed, it was
beyond my understanding, beyond my control.
It was dusk when they found me. I was parked on a lonely stretch
of Rd. staring at the camera, when a fleet of black SU VS
surrounded me. Men and women in tactical gear
poured out, their movements precise, their expressions grim.
One of them, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek,
approached me. Are you the one who found the
camera? He asked, his voice devoid of
warmth. I nodded, unable to find my
voice. We need to take it, he said,
reaching for the camera. Who are you?
I finally managed to croak the organization.
He replied simply, as if that explained everything.
This camera is a threat. It's a doorway to something
dangerous. I watched, numb, as they took
the camera and began scanning the area with strange devices.
The man with the scar, he never gave me his name stayed with me.
What's going to happen now? I asked.
We contain the situation, he said.
We've dealt with otherworldly threats before.
This is just another day for us. But the people in the forest?
He shook his head. They were already lost.
Once the other side takes hold, there's no coming back.
I thought of Dave and Jim, of the horror that had replaced
their humanity. A sense of guilt washed over me.
I should have left the camera where I found it.
Your friend Dave, the man said suddenly, as if reading my
thoughts. He's gone.
Tried to contact you, to warn you.
They didn't like that. I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Dave had tried to reach out, and I hadn't understood the danger.
What now? I asked, feeling defeated.
You sign a non disclosure agreement, We compensate you for
your silence. It was surreal, sitting there,
signing a document that stated I would never speak of this,
receiving a check that felt like blood money.
As I drove home, the check in my pocket, the weight of what had
happened pressing down on me, I realized that my world had
changed. I had glimpsed something beyond
the veil of reality, something terrifying and incomprehensible.
I tried to convince myself that it was over, that the
organization would handle it. But as I lay in bed that night,
staring at the ceiling, I knew the truth.
It wasn't over. It was just beginning.
The days following the incident with the camera and the
organization passed in a blur. I found myself going through the
motions of everyday life, but nothing felt the same.
The world around me seemed less real, like I was living in a
shadow of what used to be. The check for $10,000 sat
untouched on my kitchen table, a stark reminder of the silence I
had agreed to. I couldn't shake the images of
the Twisted forest or the haunting transformations of Dave
and Jim. They infiltrated my dreams,
turning them into restless, feverish nightmares.
During the day, I found myself staring into the distance, lost
in thought. I couldn't escape the feeling
that I had glimpsed something fundamental and terrifying about
the nature of our world. The worst part was the
isolation. I couldn't talk about what had
happened, couldn't share the burden of what I knew.
The non disclosure agreement was a chain around my neck, a
constant weight. I pondered over the idea of
breaking it, of telling someone, anyone, about the otherworldly
horror I had witnessed. But fear kept me silent.
Fear of the organization, fear of not being believed.
Fear of the camera itself, even though it was no longer in my
possession. I tried to distract myself with
work, with hikes in the mountains, but it was useless.
The forests I once loved now felt oppressive, the trees
watching me with unseen eyes. I couldn't shake the sensation
that something was lurking just out of sight, waiting.
It wasn't just the fear and the nightmares that haunted me.
It was the questions. The endless, unanswerable
questions. What was the camera, really?
Where had it come from? What was the nature of the other
place, the one that had claimed Dave and Jim?
And the biggest question of all, were there more objects like the
camera out there? One evening I sat on my porch
watching the sunset over the mountains.
The sky was ablaze with colors, a beautiful, serene end to the
day. But even that couldn't lift the
heaviness in my heart. I thought about Dave, about his
curiosity and his untimely end. I wondered what he would have
done if our roles were reversed. Would he have delved deeper into
the mystery? Or would he have backed away,
scared of what he might uncover? I realized then that what I
missed most was the simplicity of not knowing.
There was a time when I would have looked at the sunset and
seen only its beauty, not a reminder of other, darker
realities. There was a time when the forest
was just a place of peace and solitude, not a gateway to
horror. As the sky darkened and the
first stars appeared, I made a decision.
I would try to move on, to find some semblance of normalcy, but
I would also stay alert, watchful.
If there were other gateways, other threats, I needed to be
prepared. The camera had changed
everything. It had shown me a glimpse of the
unknown, and that knowledge could not be unlearned.
I was a different person now, one who had stared into the
abyss and seen it stare back. And so I watched the nightfall,
feeling a mix of resignation and resolve.
The world was a bigger, stranger place than I had ever imagined,
and I was now a part of that strangeness, for better or for
worse. It's funny how some memories
stick with you, clear as day, even when years have passed.
For me, those memories are often about the times I spent with my
best friend, Jay. Back when we were teenagers, we
would escape the boredom of our small town by heading out to
Forest Glen National Park, a sprawling green haven only 15
miles from where we lived. It was our little adventure land
with its camping sites, fishing spots, and most importantly,
countless winding trails. I remember those days like they
were yesterday. Jay and I didn't have much going
on in our lives, so Forest Glen became our go to place.
We'd pack a few snacks, grab our water bottles and just hike.
Sometimes we challenge ourselves to tackle 2 or even 3 trails in
a single day, depending on how energetic we felt.
Those trails, with their twists and turns, hidden nooks and
unexpected vistas, never got old.
They were like our secret world, a place where we could talk
about everything and nothing away from the prying eyes of our
small town life. As time passed, Jay and I grew
up and life as it tends to do got in the way.
College jobs and all the other grown up stuff filled our days,
and our visits to Forest Glen became less and less frequent.
But those trails and the memories we made there never
really left me. Lately, I'd found myself
thinking about those days more often.
Maybe it was nostalgia, or maybe just a desire to reconnect with
a simpler time. Whatever it was, it made me pick
up the phone and call Jay out of the blue.
Hey, Jay, you remember Forest Glen?
I asked, feeling a bit silly, but to my surprise, his response
was immediate and enthusiastic. Of course, Man, we had some good
times there. Why do you ask?
I explained how I'd been reminiscing and floated the idea
of going back for a hike. Just like old times.
I half expected him to laugh it off, but instead he was all in.
He even sounded excited about it, saying he'd been thinking of
doing the same, but never got around to it.
So we made plans to meet up that Saturday morning at one of his
favorite trails. The one that wound its way up to
the old lookout point Saturday morning arrived bright and
clear. I got up while it was still
dark, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.
It had been so long since I've done anything like this.
I grabbed my backpack, which now felt oddly unfamiliar, and drove
out to Forest Glen. The sun was just starting to
paint the sky with shades of orange and pink.
When I reached the park parking my car near the trailhead, I
noticed the absence of Jay's car.
There was more than one entrance to the park, so I figured he
might have parked somewhere else.
I checked my phone to call him, but I barely had any signal.
Typical. Shaking my head, I locked the
car and decided to start walking.
Maybe he was already on the trail, or maybe he was just
running late. Standing at the trail entrance,
I began some stretches, my eyes occasionally darting to the
path, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jay.
I remembered how he always used to be the first one at our
meeting spots, usually with some joke or prank ready to lighten
the mood. But today, it seemed I was the
early bird. After about 10 minutes, I
started to get impatient. We had agreed to meet at 6:30 in
the morning, and Jay was never one to break a plan.
Maybe I should go back and check my phone again, I thought.
But then, on a whim, I decided to walk a little way into the
trail, just to see if I could spot him.
The trail was just as I remembered it, a clear path at
the beginning, giving way to a more rugged, natural trail
flanked by thick brush and towering trees.
It felt good to be back, the air fresh and crisp, filled with the
sounds of nature waking up. But something felt different.
The trail seemed less travelled, more overgrown than I
remembered, and it was quiet. Too quiet.
The usual chatter of birds and rustle of leaves was there, but
it was like the volume had been turned down.
I walked briskly, my eyes scanning the path ahead and the
dense foliage around me. The familiar yet strange trail
brought back a flood of memories.
It was on these very paths that Jay and I had shared our teenage
dreams and fears. It felt surreal to be here
again, alone, this time with only the echoes of the past for
company. As I reached a small stream that
cut across the trail, I paused. The path continued on the other
side, splitting off in 2 directions.
I had never been good at remembering which way LED where.
That was always Jay's thing. He had an uncanny sense of
direction, always knew exactly where we were and how to get
back. I decided this was as far as I'd
go on my own. I didn't want to risk getting
lost, and I wanted to be at the trailhead when Jay arrived.
I knelt down to tie my shoelace, which had come loose.
As I stood up, I caught my breath.
There, right in front of me. It was Jay.
He was grinning like he used to when we were kids, like he had
just pulled off the best prank. Jay.
I exclaimed, a mix of relief and annoyance in my voice.
You scared me, he laughed, That familiar, infectious laugh that
always made it impossible to stay mad at him.
Sorry, couldn't help myself, he said, still chuckling.
I was a bit farther up the trail and turned back when I didn't
see you Thought I'd surprise you.
I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
Well, you definitely did that. I didn't even hear you coming.
He just grinned that wide, toothy grin that was so
quintessentially Jay. We stood there for a moment,
just looking at each other. It felt like no time had passed
at all. Yet here we were, years older,
standing on the trail that had seen so much of our youth.
Shall we? I asked, gesturing towards the
trail. Let's do it, Jay replied, his
smile still in place. He led the way and I followed,
feeling a sense of rightness, of things falling back into place.
We were back on the trails of Forest Glen, just like old
times, but as we walked a whisper of something not quite
right, I pushed it aside, focusing instead on the trail
ahead and the friend beside me. As I stepped onto the trail, I
couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at Jay's
absence. We had agreed to meet here at
this very spot, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I had this weird gut feeling, the kind you get when
something's not quite right, but I pushed it aside, convincing
myself that Jay was probably just running late.
The trail was just as beautiful as I remembered, but somehow it
felt different. It was overgrown, Wilder than
before. Nature had reclaimed what we
once knew so well. I tried to shrug off the eerie
silence that seemed to envelope the woods.
I told myself it was just the early hour, that the forest was
still waking up. I ventured further in, my
footsteps crunching on the forest floor.
The narrow path framed by tall trees and thick underbrush
brought back a flood of memories.
Jay and I used to race down these trails, laughing and
shouting, our voices echoing through the trees.
Now the only sound was the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle
morning breeze. After a few minutes of walking,
I stopped near a small stream that crossed the path.
I remembered how Jay and I would jump over these streams,
competing to see who could do it without getting wet.
I smiled at the memory, but it was a bittersweet smile.
I missed those carefree days. As I stood there, lost in
thought, I realized just how quiet it was.
It was more than just the absence of human noise.
It was like the forest itself was holding its breath.
The usual Symphony of bird calls and insect chirps was strangely
muted. It was peaceful, yet unsettling.
I decided to head back to the trail entrance, thinking maybe
Jay had arrived by then. I didn't want to venture too far
without him, especially since I wasn't as familiar with these
trails as he was. As I turned around, I stooped to
retie my shoelace, and that's when I got the shock of my life.
Jay was suddenly there, standing right in front of me, Grinning,
I let out a gasp, my heart pounding in my chest.
Jay, you scared me half to death.
I exclaimed. He just laughed.
That familiar hearty laugh that always made everything seem OK.
Sorry, couldn't resist. I saw you from up the trail and
decided to sneak up on you, he said, still chuckling.
I couldn't help but smile despite the adrenaline still
coursing through my veins. Well, you definitely succeeded
in scaring me, I admitted. As we started walking together,
I felt a sense of relief wash over me.
Everything was back to normal, just two friends hiking their
favorite trail. Jay led the way, his steps
confident and sure. I followed, happy to be back in
this familiar place with my old friend, But as we walked, I
couldn't shake off the feeling that something was still off.
The silence of the forest was unnerving, and I couldn't
remember the trail being this overgrown.
I tried to push those thoughts away, focusing instead on the
sound of our footsteps and Jay's occasional comments about the
trail. Remember how we used to race to
the big oak tree? He asked, pointing to a spot up
ahead. Yeah, I do, I replied, smiling
at the memory. You always won, though.
Jay laughed. That's because I always cheated
and started running before you were ready.
We continued walking, the familiarity of our banter
Comforting. But deep down I knew something
was different. The forest didn't feel like the
one I remembered. It felt like a stranger watching
us with silent, unseen eyes. As Jay and I jog down the
familiar yet strangely foreign trail, a flood of memories from
our teenage years rushed back to me.
We laughed and shared stories reminiscing about the good old
days. It felt great to be back here
with Jay, even though the trail seemed more mysterious and
overgrown than I remembered. The deeper we went into the
forest, the more I noticed how different things seemed.
The path was narrower, the trees closer together, and the silence
of the woods was almost overwhelming.
It was as if the forest had changed, or maybe it was us who
had changed. Jay kept up a steady pace,
leading the way with confidence. I followed, trying to shake off
the growing sense of unease. We talked about everything from
our first camping trip here to the time we got lost and ended
up hiking until sunset. Remember when you tripped over
that route and scraped your knee?
Jay suddenly asked, a teasing tone in his voice.
I chuckled, rubbing my knee reflexively.
How could I forget? You wouldn't stop making fun of
me for weeks. Jay laughed, but something about
his laughter sounded different this time.
It didn't have the warmth that used to.
I pushed the thought aside, attributing it to my overactive
imagination. We continued jogging the trail,
becoming more rugged with each step.
The forest around us felt denser, almost suffocating in
its silence. I could barely hear any
wildlife, which was odd for Forest Glen.
It was as if the animals themselves were avoiding this
part of the woods. What's up with this trail, Jay?
I asked, panting slightly from the effort.
It seems so different. Jay didn't respond immediately.
He just kept jogging, that strange smile still on his face.
It's just nature taking back what's hers, he finally said,
his voice lacking its usual cheerfulness.
We reached the fork in the trail, and Jay paused, looking
at both paths before deciding on the right one.
I followed, my unease growing with every step.
The trees seem to close in around us, their branches
creating a canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight.
This doesn't seem right, I muttered more to myself than to
Jay. I don't remember the trail being
this overgrown. Jay didn't reply.
He just kept moving forward, his pace never wavering.
I tried to keep up, but my legs were starting to burn from the
effort. Suddenly a memory hit me like a
bolt of lightning. It was a day when I had fallen
and scraped my knees really bad. Jay wasn't there that day.
He was home sick. My heart started to race as I
realized something was terribly wrong.
Jay, wait, I called out, stopping in my tracks.
He turned around, his expression unreadable.
What's wrong? He asked, his voice barely more
than a whisper. I swallowed hard, my mouth
suddenly dry. You weren't there the day I
scraped my knees. You were sick.
For a moment, Jay just stared at me, his eyes wide.
Then, slowly, his expression changed.
The smile disappeared, replaced by something cold and
unreadable. I need to go back, I stammered,
taking a step backward. Something was very wrong, and
every instinct in my body was screaming at me to get out of
these woods. Jay just stood there watching me
with that strange, cold look. I turned and started running
back the way we came, my heart pounding in my chest.
I didn't look back, not even once.
All I knew was that I had to get away from whatever was
pretending to be my friend. My breath was ragged, my heart
pounding in my chest as I ran through the overgrown trail.
The realization that the person with me wasn't Jay sending waves
of panic through my body, every rustle in the bushes, every snap
of a twig under my feet heightened my fear.
I couldn't believe it. How could I not have realized
sooner? The memories we shared, the
laughter, It all seems so real. But the chilling truth was now
clawing at my mind. That thing was not my friend.
I could barely see through the tears that blurred my vision,
but I kept running. The once familiar trail now felt
like a labyrinth, with branches reaching out like hands trying
to grab me. My mind raced with questions.
Who or what was that impersonating Jay and why?
The forest, once a sanctuary of happy memories, now felt like a
trap closing in on me. I stumbled over a root, catching
myself before I fell. Pain shot up my leg, but I
pushed it aside. I had to get out of these woods.
I had to get away from whatever was masquerading as Jay.
The thought of that thing with Jay's face and voice made my
skin crawl. Finally, I saw the clearing
where my car was parked. I had never been so relieved to
see that old beat up vehicle. I fumble with my keys, my hands
shaking uncontrollably. Glancing over my shoulder, I
half expected to see that thing following me, but there was
nothing. Just the quiet, ominous forest.
I threw myself into the car, locking the doors the second I
was inside. I didn't waste a moment starting
the engine and speeding away from Forest Glen as fast as I
could. My mind was a whirlwind of fear
and confusion. What had just happened was I
losing my mind? The drive home felt endless.
Every shadow, every movement outside the car made me jump.
I kept checking the rear view mirror, expecting to see that
thing chasing after me. But there was nothing.
Just the empty Rd. in the growing distance from the
forest. When I finally got home, I was a
mess. My hands were still shaking and
my heart was still racing. I grabbed my phone from the
glove compartment. I had forgotten to take it with
me in the rush to escape the forest.
That's when I saw it. A text from Jay, the real Jay.
His message sent a chill down my spine.
He explained that he couldn't make it to Forest Glen because
the park was closed. There had been several
accidents. People found drowned.
My heart sank. If Jay hadn't been in the
forest, then who or what was with me?
I barely had time to process this.
When I heard a knock at my door. A cold dread settled in my
stomach. I peered through the peephole
and felt my blood turn to ice. There on my doorstep was Jay, or
at least something that looked like him.
Smiling that same unsettling smile.
I didn't open the door. Instead, I called the real Jay,
my hands trembling as I dialed his number.
His voice, warm and familiar, was a stark contrast to the cold
fear I felt. He was at the store, nowhere
near my house. I hung up and immediately dialed
911, reporting an intruder at my door.
By the time the police arrived, the impostor was gone.
I didn't know how to explain it to the officers, so I just said
someone was trying to break in. They promised to patrol the
area, but I knew they didn't understand the true nature of
the threat. That night and every night
since, I've been haunted by the presence of that thing.
It knocks on my door, calling out in a voice that's a twisted
version of Jay's begging to be let in.
I've called the police multiple times, but they find nothing.
They've stopped taking me seriously.
Now I sit here, alone and terrified, clutching a knife for
protection. The knocks continue, each one
sending a shiver down my spine. I don't know what that creature
wants, but I know I can't let it in the memory of the forest, of
the thing wearing my friend's face haunts my every waking
moment. I'm trapped in my own home, a
prisoner of my fear, and I don't know how much longer I can hold
out. Night after night, I sit in my
living room, The lights dimmed, a heavy sense of dread hanging
over me. The creature, whatever it is,
keeps coming back. It's knocks at the door like a
countdown to my sanity. I clutch the kitchen knife
tightly, the cold metal offering a small sense of security,
though I know it's not enough to protect me from whatever is out
there. The police have stopped
responding to my calls. They think I'm just another
paranoid guy, spooked by his own shadow, But I know what I saw,
what I heard. That thing wearing Jay's face
isn't human. It's something else, something
sinister. My mind races with questions.
What is this creature? Why is it tormenting me?
What does it want? But the answers are as elusive
as the shadow that lurks outside my door.
I've tried researching, looking for anything that might explain
what's happening, but I found nothing.
It's like I'm facing a ghost, a phantom that exists only to
haunt me. Every knock, every call of my
name in that garbled, twisted version of Jay's voice sends
shivers down my spine. I've stopped sleeping.
I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I
see that thing's face, hear its voice.
It's driving me to the edge tonight as I sit here, the
bottle of Brandy on the table almost empty.
The knocks come again. My heart pounds in my chest, a
frantic drum beat echoing my fear.
The voice follows a whale that sounds less and less like Jay
with each passing night. Let me in.
It moans. I need more friends.
The words send a chill through me.
More friends. What does that mean?
Is it lonely? Is it looking for companionship
in it's twisted, horrifying way? Or is it something more
sinister? I've barricaded the door, but I
know it's a futile effort. If this thing is what I think it
is. No lock, no barrier.
Can keep it out. But still, I try.
I have to do something, anything, to feel like I have
some control over the situation. The creatures visits are
becoming more frequent, more desperate.
I can hear it moving around the house, tapping on the windows,
testing every possible entry. I'm trapped a prisoner in my own
home, and the walls feel like they're closing in on me.
I don't know how much more of this I can take.
The isolation, the fear, the constant vigilance.
It's wearing me down, breaking me bit by bit.
I've thought about leaving, about running away, but where
would I go? And what if it follows me?
What if it's not just tied to this house, but to me?
As the night wears on, the knocks and calls continue, a
relentless assault on my senses. I know I can't keep this up
forever. Sooner or later, I'll have to
face whatever is out there. But I'm not ready.
Not yet. For now, all I can do is wait,
watch and hope that the dawn will bring some respite, some
answer to this nightmare. But deep down, I know the truth.
There is no escape from the unseen menace that has chosen me
as its target. All I can do is wait and pray
that when the time comes, I'll have the strength to face it.