My most terrifying workplace experience involved an encounter
with what I believe to be a demonic entity.
It was an experience that I'll never forget.
This happened a few years ago when I was working overnight as
a custodian on a college campus. Working nights in an empty
building is creepy by default, but there was something
different going on in building 8.
Something unsettling. Something malignant.
Starting the very first day after being reassigned to that
building, I began having intense nightmares.
These weren't your normal bad dreams.
They were unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
Night after night of violence and carnage.
And they didn't go away when I woke up.
They lingered long into my shift each night.
A key piece of back story was my recent divorce.
I was only a few months removed from it when I started working
there, and that divorce destroyed me emotionally,
spiritually, and financially. I went through a prolonged dark
stretch, and this job was the first step to getting me back on
my feet. I liked having a series of tasks
to keep me busy each shift. It gave me a sense of purpose
and accomplishment. But that all changed when they
moved me to Building 8. There was something different
about those shifts, a pervasive creepiness that grew as each
shift wore on. It was unsettling.
I had a Co worker that we called the Gentle Giant whose shift
ended halfway through mine. I hated to see him go because
once he was gone, I was alone in the building for the rest of the
night. At that point my uneasiness
would rapidly intensify, almost as if the malignant force knew
that I was now alone and would ramp up the psychological
oppression. Fragments of the previous
night's nightmares wood forest their way to the surface and
they were horrifying. In each dream a new murderous,
lust filled chapter unfolded. The dreams would start with me
attacking my ex in some violent, rage filled manner, and then I'd
have my way with her in every way possible.
Sometimes mutually, sometimes against her will, but always,
always afterward I'd finish her off in some brutal fashion,
usually with a blade, but sometimes with my own bare
hands. Having a nightmare like that
just once is eye opening enough, but having it night after night
is horrific. It affected me, poisoned me with
intrusive thoughts, left me teetering on the verge of real
life violent outbursts, and it goes without saying, but I
probably should mention it, that is not who I normally am.
I've never been violent toward any women, let alone my ex, and
the last time I got into a fight was in middle school.
Needless to say, those nightmares were changing me into
someone else and I feared that I was nearing a breaking point.
Between the divorce, the sleep deprivation and whatever was in
that building slowly overtaking me, my sanity was teetering on
the brink and something was bound to give.
There was another unwanted side effect of those nightmares, and
that was me obsessing over my ex all over again.
I'd find myself scouring her social media, dwelling on all
the ways she'd done me wrong, fixating on her posts with her
new boyfriend, and becoming increasingly vengeful.
My obsession got so bad that one morning after my shift, I found
myself parked outside her apartment, contemplating how
easy it would be to make one of those nightmares a reality.
I shook off that compulsion and drove away.
But it was undeniable that some oppressive force was slowly
enveloping my mind, body, and soul.
And then came the night of my creepy experience.
I was on the back half of my shift on an otherwise typical
night. Jared had already left, and once
he did, the images from my nightmares began to overwhelm my
thoughts. I put on a podcast to distract
my mind, and it did help, but the oppressive force
intensified. Then I thought I heard
something, the sounds of someone shuffling down the hall.
I thought maybe Jared had returned, and I went looking for
him. As I did, the shuffling sound
continued, but I couldn't pinpoint what direction it was
coming from. I found doors unlocked, lights
left on, but no sign of Jared or anyone else.
After looking around, I tried to convince myself that it was just
the sounds of the building settling.
And then it happened. I heard a cacophony, a banging
sound throughout the entire building.
I turned around to see the classroom doors of the hallway
were all thrown open, close to a dozen of them.
These were heavy fire doors and had to be manually opened.
My pulse was racing. As I stood there alone in the
empty hallway, images from my nightmares flashed through my
mind. I turned and ran, and as I did,
I heard whispers from every direction.
Whispers telling me to end her, to punish her.
When I rushed out of building 8 and ran across the empty parking
lot, the whispers seemed to follow and it felt like they
were chasing me. It took me a frustratingly long
couple of seconds to retrieve my car keys, but when I finally
found them and piled into my car, the whispers slowly
receded. I drove out of the parking lot
and went straight home. And I never went back to that
job. The phone calls from the college
began a few hours later and continued steadily for the next
few days. I never answered a single one.
Eventually, they slowed and then ceased altogether.
And just like that, my nightmare stopped, the irritability faded
and I began to feel like my normal self again.
I found a new job doing admin work and I got back to living.
Maybe it was six months later when I ran into my old Co
worker, Jared in the parking lot of a strip mall.
He was excited to see me and immediately asked me what had
happened that night. I explained the beeping in the
doors and then he asked me about the graffiti.
I told him I didn't know what he was talking about, and he pulled
out his phone and had me scroll through a series of photos.
He explained that in every classroom of that building,
something was painstakingly drawn on the whiteboard.
Some of the drawings were variations of the same word,
while others were complex images that looked like hieroglyphics.
The word written in dozens of different forms and languages
was asmatis. Jared explained that this was
the name of an ancient Persian demon that predated the Bible
and the Talmud. Now, I've never been very
religious, so I don't know what to make of all that, but I will
say this. Whatever entity lurks inside
that building, I hope to never encounter it again.
This first event took place when I was 14 and the second when I
was 22. When I was in high school, I had
a best friend named Andy and my cousin Joseph.
We did everything together and hung out often.
They live near each other in a bad part of town, but I would
often visit them. Every week we'd walk to a nearby
park to hang out and just talk about life.
Next to the park was a sort of maintenance tunnel with two
entrances leading underground. Shallow water ran out from them
into a Creek. The tunnels were made of
concrete and the entrances on both sides were square.
Outside, there was a concrete ramp sloping down toward them.
One day we decided to sit on the ramp and look into the tunnels.
We noticed graffiti on the left one above a corner that said
this way to hell. Being young and thinking we were
brave, we wanted to see what was down there.
The ceiling was low so you had to Crouch to walk inside.
We got about 10 feet in and realized that if we went further
we wouldn't be able to see anything.
We planned to get flashlights and come back later.
Our moms bought us some cheap ones that could barely shine, so
we made it just a little further than last time, but we could see
some of the graffiti inside. One said run boys and girls as
you got further down the corner going toward the right.
Before it did, there was a final warning that read You're halfway
to Hell now with an arrow pointing in the direction of the
turn. At that point we couldn't see
anything around the corner, so we said that we'd save up for
some good flashlights and come back later.
About a week later I got to class and my cousin, who usually
joked often with me, looked a bit shaken up.
He was quiet and didn't say much.
I finally asked him what was wrong and he hesitated to tell
me but finally said. Me and Andy went into the tunnel
yesterday by ourselves. My mom bought me a powerful
flashlight and I ran ahead of Andy.
When I got to the corner I turned and the light shone on
something. It was black and big and when
the light hit its back it turned its head towards me and stood up
all the way. He had a serious expression on
his face and I could tell that he wasn't joking.
I wanted to believe him, but Andy had a bad habit of lying
and I figured maybe Joseph and he were just trying to prank me.
We didn't go into the tunnels for a while.
One day I went to stay over at Andy's and he invited a girl
over from class to hang out. We told her about the creepy
tunnel and she wanted to see it, so we went there when it was
dark. Being braver than both of us,
she kept getting ahead of us. Andy tried to warn her,
practically begging her to slow down.
We turned the corner and proceeded to go down the long
part of the tunnel. Even with three flashlights it
was difficult to see much. There was no graffiti, just
shallow water. We got to a wall that had a
smaller circular hole that led further down, and just before
that the ceiling arched upwards. We stood up to stretch our
backs, me being 6/4 was able to stand up all the way without my
head hitting the top. As we stretched it suddenly hit
me what Joseph had said about seeing something stand up at the
end of the tunnel, a part that neither of us had reached before
until now. I looked at Andy and said Joseph
wasn't lying. We got out and went back to
Andy's. We told Joseph what had happened
and at this point although we were scared, it was still
something scary to show others. He called one morning to tell me
his cousin stayed over the night before and that after telling
him his cousin wanted to see it but not to go in just to see
where it was. Joseph's mom was a bit strict on
him leaving past a certain time of night so when she fell asleep
they snuck out in the middle of the night to go see it.
When they arrived Joseph said that they walked down the
concrete ramp and heard voices like multiple people talking
from down the tunnel. He went to get closer and
stepped into the water when he heard voices and a commotion
saying someone's here, then splashing from down the tunnel
as multiple footsteps began running through making it echo.
He said he and his cousin ran all the way back to his house,
afraid that someone might have seen or even followed them.
He got his grandpa's rifle and kept it by him, not knowing what
to expect, but nothing ever happened.
One night I was at home and my Aunt Priscilla came over.
So it was me, my sister Renee, my aunt, my sister's friend
Erica, and a friend of mine named Michael.
We started telling scary stories and I brought up the tunnel.
My aunt asked where it was and offered to drive over because
she wanted to see it and this got everyone's interest.
I went outside to tell my dad where we were going and he told
me that incidents had happened there with kids when he lived in
that neighborhood. My dad told tall tales so I
didn't really believe a word he said, but to my surprise he
handed me a pocket knife if I insisted on going in there.
We showed up and Erica said that she was staying in the car.
I called Andy and Joseph and asked if they would want to go
with us in a big group. I guess safety in numbers and
since we didn't see anything last time I figured it would be
smart. They walked over and we all went
in. As we got to the corner and
turned, my sister started to get ahead of me by a few feet.
I was trying to catch up while holding the light ahead to shine
with hers when I saw the light reflect off something dark.
I immediately stopped and started to tell Renee to get
back. She either didn't hear me or
didn't care and took two more steps and shone the light upon
what I had mine aimed at. Something crouched down with its
back turned at first, turned its head back to us and stood up.
The skin was solid black and the light seemed to shine off of it,
almost glistening. From what I could tell it was
massive and the head near the ceiling as it was where the roof
arched upwards. The thing I could clearly see
where it's red eyes, just two embers in the dark staring down
at us. I've never heard my sister
scream like that, just pure guttural terror in her voice.
She turned to run past me, pushing my arm, yelling at me to
run. My entire body locked up from
fear, but she didn't see that I was still behind and kept
running. I'd never been so scared that my
body refused to move. I panicked and grabbed my leg,
forcing it to budget and then the other, too afraid to look up
but imagining that this thing was heading my way.
As soon as my legs could move, I turned and ran faster than I'd
ever run in my life. I ended up being the first
person out of the tunnel, although the rest of the group,
including my sister, were ahead of me.
We agreed to never go in again. A couple of months later me and
Andy planned on going to the park to hang out and saw a
birthday party was happening, so I suggested that we go into the
entrance of the tunnel where the light from the sun was still
visible just to have a little bit of privacy and talk and not
be near anyone. He was hesitant at first but
agreed as I told him that I wasn't going anywhere near the
darkness. We got a little ways in and the
uneven ground elevated near a spot making the water run around
it creating a dry spot and we sat down and began talking for a
bit until we heard some kids from the party come down to the
entrance and ask us what we were doing.
We tried to encourage them to go back and when they insisted on
staying to ask questions I told Andy let's get out, I don't want
them coming down here. We went to leave and as we came
out we saw a man telling the kids to go back.
He turned and looked at us and asked what were y'all doing down
there. I told him that we were just
talking and hanging out and his face turned very serious and he
asked, did you see anything down there?
I felt my heart begin to pound. This was a complete stranger
that we had never seen before and I tried to pretend that I
didn't know and asked what thing in a quiet voice.
He began to raise his voice and said that thing, that big black
no name thing, did you see it? We stayed quiet until I finally
asked, How do you know about that?
He responded. Let me tell you something man,
when me and my friends were your age we thought we were brave and
cool and went down there too. You ain't got no business going
down those tunnels, you hear me? He was getting angry, although
we weren't arguing. This is until he began to yell
and Andy began to back talk and tell him that he didn't need to
listen to him. Andy was short and stocky, and
me, being a pretty tall teenager, was really too scared
to say anything. The man threatened to take Andy
down to the tunnel and kill him, and something about the way he
said it made me feel that he was pretty serious.
Suddenly a man from the party, drunk, came down to the area and
went to unzip his pants and relieve himself in the water
away from us. Said man, where'd you go?
We were looking for you. The other man replied.
I'm just talking to these kids. And the drunk man asked him to
hurry up and went back to the birthday party.
The man turned back to us and pointed a finger at us and said
I'm serious, stay out of those tunnels.
Then walked off without waiting for a reply.
And he finally expressed how scared he was but didn't want to
show the man so tried to be brave and talk back.
And we went to his house and made his promise that day to
never go there again. Years later, in my late 20s, I
told some friends and I agreed to go show them the entrance.
The graffiti warning was still there, trees had overgrown,
covering the top of the entrance with hanging limbs and leaves,
and a gate was installed blocking the entryway to both
sides with a sign that said no trespassing.
I'm not sure why it was installed as I hadn't seen it in
years, but to this day at age 36, it still gives me the creeps
to think about our experience in there and how foolish we were
just because we wanted to be young and dumb.
I still have no idea what we saw that day.
I've only shared this story with a few people, but even now when
I think about it, it still freaks me out.
I was around 16 years old growing up in a small town where
exploring the hills was the thing to do.
This incident took place at the North End of Ruby Valley in Elko
County, Nevada. Someday I'll play around on
Google Earth and try to find this place, but it's slightly
north of the road off of Hwy. 93 that goes into Ruby Valley.
I always like checking out old mine shafts and ghost towns.
That kind of stuff really intrigues me.
At the Burger bar in Wells, NV where I'm from and grew up, they
had these old turn of the century maps under glass on the
tables on one of them. It showed several ghost towns
just north of Ruby Valley so I figured that I would go check
them out as I hadn't been in the area very often.
I gassed up my 72 Dodge pickup. Being a redneck and ASLK before
4 Chan even existed. I grabbed my HK 91 and set out.
I found some old foundations in the lower country and started
heading into the mountains themselves.
I started finding abandoned mine shafts and it was pretty cool so
I kept going up. I took this ancient Rd. that was
no more than an overgrown cattle path by this point in history
and came upon a tree blocking the road.
It was an old Pinon pine, also two feet in diameter that
blocked the road. After the tree, the road
continued straight for about 200 yards then hooked right before
coming back 180°. I parked my truck in front of
the tree and set out on foot. I grabbed my HK91 with 120 round
magazine and the rifle and put another 20 round mag in my back
left pocket. I always had my rifle with me.
I've encountered mountain lions and mine shafts before and just
generally I like to shoot stuff and get up on the Ridge lines
and shoot boulders from a couple of 100 yards away.
Anyway, as soon as I climbed over the fallen tree I had a
creepy feeling as if I was being watched.
I continued on for about 200 yards to the point where the
road started curving right and gaining elevation towards the
cabin. At this point I realized not
only did I feel like I was being watched, but it was also dead
quiet. This was in June, so everywhere
else you went you could hear cicadas, but not hear it seemed
As soon as I crossed the fallen tree, the mountains were silent.
No bugs, no birds, nothing. Just deafening silence.
As I came up to the turn there was this big rock about 15 feet
in diameter. It used to be on the road but
due to years of erosion and snow.
It had slid down just slightly off the road.
It seemed to be red limestone or something like that which stood
out since they are not that common in this area.
I looked at the rock and you could tell that there were
carvings in it at some point in time and due to weathering,
whatever was carved on it had been worn off.
I kept walking up the road feeling incredibly creeped out,
but I really wanted to check out that old cabin.
It was obvious that no one had been there for quite a while at
this point. I was probably 3 hours off road
to get to this point, and I got up to the cabin.
As far as abandoned houses and cabins in Nevada go, this one
was in pretty good shape. All the glass on the window was
still intact and there were remnants of curtains behind the
windows. In the back of my mind,
something told me that I should be leaving.
I went inside the cabin and that's when I started to get the
feeling that something was off. Most cabins you find out in the
middle of nowhere in Nevada are barren with maybe a bit of
broken furniture. This one was different.
It was completely furnished. Time had taken its toll, but
everything was still there. What was left of an old mattress
and bedding, plates and other cookware throughout the house,
along with tattered clothing and personal effects like a chest,
faded pictures and the like. What really creeped me out was
the dinner table. It was set for four people, 10
plates, glasses, and silverware. This was the first cabin I had
ever found in this condition. It was as if whoever resided
here had just up and left everything behind.
I felt like I shouldn't be in the cabin and went outside to
see if I could find the mine shaft or anything else.
Once I was out the door, I decided to chamber around in my
HK 91. The sound of me racking around
echoed throughout the Canyon and broke the silence.
As little of a thing as it was, this calmed my nerves very
slightly. Directly behind the cabin was a
well, and it was still intact. As I got closer, I heard noises
coming from it, like a slight breeze rustling through it.
When I got within about 30 feet of it, I started to smell
something. It was absolutely putrid.
Definitely something had died in that well.
The smell of decay was heavy in the air with an acrid copper
scent that tore at my nostrils. I didn't want to get any closer
to the well and started walking towards the left where I could
see the opening to a mine shaft up on the hill.
The closer I got to it, the more I felt the breeze coming out of
it. This is not really uncommon if
you've explored mine shafts before, as the breeze could be
coming in from another opening for the mine.
But the thing was, it was perfectly calm.
As far as I could see there were no trees moving or any signs of
wind. As I got closer, another thing
struck me as odd. The breeze coming from out of
the shaft was hot. Most of the time it was cool as
most mine shafts maintain a constant temperature.
The closer I got to the shaft, the slower I move towards it.
Nothing since I crossed the fallen tree seemed right.
The closer I got to the opening of the mine shaft, the more I
had a feeling of dread and being watched.
I got within about 15 feet of the shaft when the smell hit me.
It was the smell of decay and copper, but much stronger than
the well right. Then all of my Spidey senses
started going off. I had to get out of there.
I started turning left to run when I saw a dark shadow moving
in the opening of the mine shaft.
Whatever it was, it appeared to be crouched down to fit in the
mine shaft, and most mine shafts I've been in have eight to 10
foot ceilings. At first I thought it was a
Mountain Lion, and then I remembered how big the shafts
were. My mind raced trying to think
what it could be. It was too big to be a black
bear, which are rare in northeast Nevada.
I nearly froze with panic, and then it slowly kept coming
towards the opening of the mine shaft.
It was probably within 10 feet of the opening and the light was
starting to show. Whatever it was, it was covered
from head to toe and grayish brown fur.
And then it screamed. It was unlike anything I had
ever heard in my life. My ears were ringing from it.
I flipped into panic mode and did what any good redneck would
do. I shot at it.
I pulled up my HK 91, placed the front blade on what appeared to
be the center mass, and ripped off 5 rounds as fast as I could
accurately shoot. If you've ever shot big game
with a large caliber rifle, you know the sound when you connect
with something. I had four solid hits and one
round that went high and this made it scream even louder than
it had in pain. At this time I started hearing
more and separate screams coming from over in the well and in the
hills above the mine shaft. I started running down the hill
as fast as I could. In the tree line above the road
approximately 75 to 125 yards away, I could see fast movement.
Rocks were tumbling down the hill and there were several
other screams from the mine shaft.
I could hear the wailing of whatever I had shot.
Whatever it was, I had definitely connected and it was
hurt up in the tree line. They were running from tree to
tree on all fours, getting closer to me as I ran towards
the rock. I was shooting in the general
vicinity of the movement on the top of the hill, and by the time
I got to the limestone rock, I'd expended the 20 round mag in the
rifle. I ripped it out, put in my spare
magazine, chambered around and started spraying towards the
fallen tree, approximately 200 yards away by now.
I kept glancing back and whatever they were, they were
staying in the trees. I could make out their masses
and fir, but they wouldn't stay in the open.
I got back to the fallen tree and ate dirt trying to jump over
it. I got up, fired between 12 to 15
rounds at the closest movement, which was approximately 50 yards
away from me. I heard a few rounds connect and
it started screaming louder. Between the screaming and
gunshots, my ears were damn near deaf.
I opened the door of my truck, got in, and started up as fast
as I could, backing up to turn around.
I Dang near put my truck down in the Canyon, and as I started
going forward to leave on the road that I came in on, I
finally got a look at one of them.
It was crouched over with its front feet on the tree.
It was covered from head to toe in grayish brown fur with long
slender fingers with claws tipping off the fingers.
The back of it was hunched and the face most closely resembled
that of a badger but with sunken in eyes.
It was shaking its head back and forth and it sounded like it was
attempting to speak, but it was so garbled and with the noise of
my truck I couldn't make out what it was.
I averaged 50 to 60 mph on this terrible dirt Rd. that I had
done 15 on the way in. I didn't slow down or stop until
I got back to pavement and by now I was so shaken that I had
to stop and collect myself. I got back to town and was in a
bit of shock. My dad had been a guide in the
Ruby Mountains for about 20 years.
He asked me how my trip went and where I had been.
He could tell that I was startled and asked where I had
been and I told him that I had been north of Ruby Valley.
He got quiet and asked if I had seen a cabin with a tree falling
over the road. I told him yes.
He looked me in the eyes and told me that it was somewhere
that I should never go again, especially alone.
We never spoke about it again after that.
A few years had passed and I asked some old timers and one of
them told me a story about the Ruby Mountains and I'll make it
quick. You see, during the 40s and 50s
the Army Air Corps operated out of the Wendover Air Base.
Every now and then during bad weather, AB25B17 or B29 would
crash into the rubies due to poor visibility.
Some of the local ranchers got recruited to help the military
go up to a crash site during the winter to recover the bodies.
A rancher I was talking to told me that it took them about 3
days to get up to where the crash was on horseback and
recover the bodies. He said that when they got to
the wreckage, all of the crew members were laid out side by
side next to each other in a clearing in the wreckage.
Many of them had severed limbs and it was apparent that they
all died on impact. Somehow they ended up laid out
next to each other and this was at nearly 10,000 feet elevation
as well. I have never been back there.
Part of the reason is I live in western Nevada now.
But in the back of my mind, there is something that's
telling me that I should go back, and one day I do want to
go back there. Now, this was back in 2001
before camera phones, and I was too broke to afford any sort of
digital stuff. I want to go back with a camera,
preferably a GoPro on my helmet and with several friends that
are armed. There's just something about
there, even with all the stuff that I experienced that day,
that's drawing me back. And one day I will go.
And I guess I just need closure on what happened that day.
I've always had an overactive imagination.
I'm an artist and was diagnosed with ADHD as a child, though I
was never medicated so my mind was constantly everywhere and I
was always drawing and fooling around.
As a kid, my imagination would do terrible things to me
sometimes, probably as a result of watching horror movies at a
young age. Scary stuff lurking around every
corner. But on one occasion I knew it
wasn't just my imagination. I was in 6th grade at the time,
probably 12 or so, and I lived in a very small town off a major
highway. Seriously small.
The only significant thing in this town burnt down about 20
years ago, and then a kid died in the high school, so it was
condemned. The only things here now are a
cemetery, a lake, a post office, and a gas station, all within
about four blocks of the town. Another strange thing about this
town is that it was booming in the early 90s, but now it's a
dusty, literal ghost town with about 40 people living here and
people who never speak or even really go outside.
The only other kids were my best friends, and there were only
three of us. Every morning we walked together
to the bus stop. In most mornings, none of us
spoke. One morning it was foggier than
usual, but I remember it was cold and a little misty.
My uncle, who was now deceased, grew up here and he always told
me messed up stories about this town.
He told me to watch myself. Strange things were always going
on here, but he was kind of loony so I didn't really worry
about it most of the time. However, this morning felt kind
of off. I wasn't too stressed because I
knew the others would be waking up soon enough, and when they
didn't, I started to freak out. I stood alone at the bus stop
and my imagination started going wild.
I was in the middle of imagining a set of eyes in the mist about
10 feet away from me when I saw something walking.
This was absolutely real and I remember every detail.
It was a man in shape and stature, but the way he walked
seriously made my bones feel numb, slow and rhythmic, almost
like he was floating. My 12 year old eyes bulged out
of my skull and I remembered freezing in terror.
I can't even stop shaking while I'm currently typing this.
And then he looked at me. Looked directly at me.
His eyes were so far apart they were almost on the sides of his
head, which were oblong like a sideways egg, but not that long.
He had a small nose in the center, absolutely hairless,
with crooked jagged yellow teeth underneath a disgusting smile.
I've read a ton of creepy pasta threads and heard almost exact
descriptions of ghouls, and I've wondered if maybe they saw who
or what I saw, but it's never the same.
He didn't leave me until the headlights of the school bus
came over the hill, and then without taking his eyes off of
me, he raised one hand and waved.
Not like a goodbye wave, more like a see you around wave.
And then he walked slowly away from the spot he stood, which
felt almost like a small eternity.
When the bus pulled up I was crying.
I don't know why, I don't remember what triggered it, but
the driver had to call the school who called my mom and she
came and picked me up. I tried telling her what I saw,
but she didn't believe me. She said it was probably just a
guy in a mask messing with me. I knew it wasn't.
I know it wasn't because for the next five years of my life, he
was there watching me and almost enjoying our time together.
For the first few months, his appearance sent me into a
terrible frenzy of crying and screaming.
My mom, who was single most of my childhood, worked second and
third shifts to keep our house, so she was never there at night
or in the afternoon to watch me. I never had anyone to tell.
I was frightened and alone so much.
But whenever I would see him, I would call my grandma and talk
to her on the phone, hoping that he would see this and think that
I was talking to the cops or something.
I don't know, I was 12 or 13. I would shut the blinds and
watch TV and try not to think about it, and he would only make
appearances like once a week, so it wasn't an everyday kind of
thing. Then at some point I realized
that he never came near me or touched me or anything.
He just stood watching me, whether it be outside my windows
or in the cornfield just beyond the fence of the school
playground. I got used to him and after a
while he was nothing more than scenery.
When I would go on trips or vacations, he wasn't there.
It was only around this small town.
On one instance when I was 15 or 16, I was on a walk with a
friend of mine. We were walking near the edge of
town where the paved Rd. turns into gravel and the cemetery
sits next to the graveyard. And that's when I saw him again.
The being that I had taken to calling a skinwalker.
He was about 100 yards away, leaning casually against a
gravestone. I asked my friend while keeping
my eye on Skinwalker. Want to go into the graveyard?
And he was down, so we went in. It had become obvious to me that
Skinwalker wasn't noticed by anyone other than myself, so it
wasn't a shock that when I walked almost directly next to
him, my buddy was oblivious. I remember that was the closest
I'd ever seen him. He was so much more detailed
this close. His skin, I'll never forget it.
It was almost translucent. He wasn't just pale, he was old,
and he was staring directly into my eyes.
His eyes were green but dark, not completely black, and I
remember it was a green with a hint of yellow and brown.
And I remember he had what I would describe as pretty eyes,
but they were so beady and far apart.
I had forgotten all about my friend when he said why are you
staring at that gravestone? I looked at him and then the
skinwalker, but he wasn't there anymore, just an old weathered
slab of tall concrete. I looked at it for a second,
then noticed a name. Blankety blank, 1846 to 1847.
I paid no attention to this for a long time, until I noticed
that every time I was in the graveyard there he was, same
pose, same stone, watching me. And one day I was reading a book
on the paranormal when I thought about something.
Maybe he was just a ghost and maybe he wanted me to help him.
So I came up with a plan. I rode my bike to the graveyard.
I don't know why. At the time I thought that it
might make a quicker getaway if he tried to get me or something,
I don't know. Anyway, I approached him
standing there as usual and I said can you hear me?
And he just looked blank faced and no response.
If you need my help, tell me. Then he seemed to get angry.
I don't remember exactly what happened, all I remember was
that I ran. I ran and didn't look back until
I was back on my bike. And then when I got on my bike
he was standing there still at the gravestone with one arm
stretched out towards me, like he was reaching for me to come
back or like he was sorry or something, I don't know.
I didn't stick around much longer to find out and I rode as
fast as I could home. And that was the last time I saw
him for a while. A few months went by and I
started to get really anxious, avoiding being alone, avoiding
going outside after dark. I was so scared that I would see
him again, but at the same time I felt bad, like I shouldn't
have upset him. I felt sorry for him.
I don't know, it was weird but I almost felt like we were friends
at this point and I still feel like we're friends.
The first time I saw him again was while I was riding the bus
to school. I no longer had to walk to the
bus stop. I was in high school, but I knew
that it was him. He was walking or dancing down
the sidewalk, but it was only a quick glance.
He watched me go past him and I knew that he knew that I was on.
And that was it. His appearances became less and
less frequent until one night. The last night, I'd never see
him. I was 17 years old and my mom
announced that we were moving. Things had gotten serious with
her boyfriend and we were moving in with him.
Our boxes were being packed and the house was on the market.
It was about midnight and I was alone in the house as usual.
I was drawing in my living room. I had my supplies laid out in
front of me and I was going to town on the paper when I saw
something move out of the corner of my eye.
But this was the first. He was now in my house and my
first reaction was to scream and he took a step back.
I remembered this as being a very strange moment.
It was quiet and he seemed scared.
We watched each other for a moment and then I realized that
I didn't have anything to fear and I went back to drawing.
He moved about for a moment and wound up standing behind me.
It was like he wanted to watch me draw, so I remember letting
him, and he moved in front of me and he stood there looking not
at me, but at my sketches. I'm not sure how long this
lasted, but at some point I realized that he must have
wanted me to draw him, and so I did.
I started slowly, but eventually it was normal.
I just sat completely silent, drawing this being this messed
up thing that followed me for damn near five years.
And when I was done I held my notebook up and he seemed to be
happy, ecstatic actually. His smile seemed bigger and his
eyes seemed kinder. I'm pretty sure I smiled too and
he liked it. I have absolutely no idea how
long we stayed that way, but eventually he turned away from
me and walked into the other room and then he was gone
forever. My mom and I moved and went on
with our lives. I'm 20 now and living on my own.
I wish with everything inside of me that I hadn't left that
notebook with my mother because it's probably in storage
somewhere now. I'd also like to say this.
Every year since I moved I go back to the gravestone and leave
flowers. And every year I've hoped to see
him standing there. And I plan on doing this until I
die. I moved to Kentucky for the fire
service, buying 10 square miles of hilly forest with a home at
an auction. The previous owner had lived
there his entire life and died on the land.
His family sold it to make a quick buck, and I started
planting more trees. Although the forest was dense,
it could use more, especially around the house.
I installed trail cams due to homeless Wanderers coming onto
the property. Something was getting angry and
ripping down the trail cams, including one high up in the
trees. I found piles of them in tree
hollows. I grabbed my shotgun and camping
supplies and headed out to persuade the homeless person to
leave my property, but I couldn't find anyone.
Only tiny 4 toed prints in the mud by the streams.
Initially I thought it was a raccoon, but the spacing made me
think it was standing upright. I made camp and hunkered down
cooking some tasty rabbit Stew. Too tired to clean the pot, I
went to sleep around 3. AMI woke up to weird grunting
noises outside the tent. When I opened the window flap,
the Stew pot was swinging, but all I saw near it was a mossy
rock about the size of a gallon jug that I hadn't noticed
before. I thought nothing of it and went
back to sleep. The next morning, the Stew pot
was licked clean and the mossy rock was gone.
I assumed raccoons must have cleaned it in the middle of the
night and the rock was the culprit.
After searching the area and finding nothing, I returned home
tired and bummed out from not finding anyone and losing my
knife. That night there was a light
knocking at my door. Groggy, I eyed my gun, peeked
through the window, but saw no one.
I grabbed my shotgun, open the door and poked my head out
again. No one was there, only forest
noises and the occasional butterfly.
When I stepped out, my foot kicked something.
It was my knife lying on a bed of flowers in the grass.
Confused but happy that someone had found my knife, I shouted a
quick thanks and invited them to come see me so I could talk to
them. I noticed about three rocks, all
around the size and shape of a milk jug, just on the border of
the forest. I picked up my knife and went
back inside. When I glanced outside again,
the rocks were gone. A month later, while planting
more trees and working the land to make a small garden, a puppy
named Hugo was walking around sniffing things.
I noticed two rocks on the edge of the forest and thought
nothing of it. They didn't bother me and I
didn't bother them. I was getting used to them and
expecting them by now. Honestly, I didn't feel afraid,
and Hugo didn't seem to mind them.
One day, as I was really into my gardening and lost track of
time, I looked up to find Hugo sniffing one of the rocks.
The rock shifted a little when his nose got too close.
I ran over to Hugo to keep him from getting hurt in case the
rock tipped over. That's when I saw the Moss on
the rock shift and sprout out a tiny, spindly little arm.
I stopped walking for a second and blinked to make sure I
wasn't seeing things. It was hot and humid and I
hadn't been drinking as much water as I should have.
The arm continued to extend slowly towards Hugo, recoiling a
little whenever Hugo's nose touched it.
I cautiously stood back up to not spook the rock thing.
It was getting nearer to Hugo, about 50 yards away, and I saw
that it was petting Hugo's head. Hugo was wagging his tail and
seemed to be enjoying it. I got about 10 yards away when I
stepped on a twig, making a loud noise.
The creature's arm shot back into its body and the rock
started tumbling frantically away.
Hugo ran after them and I chased after Hugo.
I lost sight of my dog and searched for him until
nightfall. I went back to my house to grab
a flashlight and my camping gear to find my pet.
As I got closer, I saw a white and black lump on the porch.
I started running toward my house and as I got closer, I saw
that it was Hugo. He was lying on the porch not
moving. I got upset as I approached, and
I saw red and pink around his head and neck.
I started sprinting, thinking my dog was hurt or dead.
About 10 feet away, Hugo's head jerked up and he looked at me.
He stood up and came to greet me with a slobbering mouth, clearly
happy to see me. He had a little crown of red and
pink flowers around his head and neck, and a rope tied to his
collar and my door. I hugged him, tears welling up
because I'd come to love this pet so much.
I stood up and shouted a thank of you to whoever had brought
him home and then went inside to sleep.
I've been on this property now for about four years and have a
lot more stories about them if people are still interested.
I've gotten very close to them and I'm trying to build up my
trust with the little things. About a year later, I kept
seeing the rocks around my house and they were getting closer.
I noticed one was living in my garden now a little different
from the others, greenish Gray and very round, almost
spherical. Occasionally I would catch a
glimpse of it moving around very slowly and methodically in the
garden. The garden has never looked more
beautiful since it moved in. I go out to my garden often and
see it on the opposite side for me.
One day I decided to approach it and show it that I meant no
harm. It was unsuccessful.
It just tucked its arms and legs in whenever it saw me.
It looked like a chubby sloth carved out of stone, with no
mouth or nose, just two beady little eyes.
I decided to leave it alone. It seemed to be helping me with
the garden and I appreciated that sometimes some of my
veggies would be gone or half eaten sitting by the stone.
I let it have them and left some veggies near the edge of the
forest. One day I noticed that the stone
was gone and the veggies were no longer being eaten.
The garden was looking a little worse for wear and the stones
were gone from the tree line. I was genuinely sad that they
were gone. About two weeks later, I went
into the forest looking for them.
I came to the middle of my property, where a massive oak
tree had fallen. It was probably around 100 feet
tall. When I got closer, I noticed
that there were dozens of the stones on and around it, all
leaning on it like they were kissing it or resting their
heads on it. I was overwhelmed with a sudden
sense of sadness, almost as if a family member had died.
I walked over to the tree and placed my hand on it, whispering
some sweet nothings to the stones.
I went back home after spending almost three hours at the tree,
feeling bereft of an old friend. For some reason.
I remembered that I had a white oak sapling in my yard outside
my house. I dug it up and took it to the
fallen oak in the forest. The next day with Hugo, I
planted it next to the fallen oak to replace the giant hole
the older one had left. Hugo was walking around and I
caught a glimpse of a few stones petting him.
A few days later I noticed the stones were back on the edge of
the forest. The garden stone was back and
everything looked lush and vibrant again.
I have one other notable story that was kind of scary.
Well, not really scary, but it does involve a crazy homeless
guy. I went out to the forest one day
with Hugo to look around for bums, say hi to some friends and
just be outdoors. I noticed more and more signs of
a homeless person living here. Trash everywhere, broken
branches and plants, etcetera. Finally I made it to where I
thought the guy was camping. I found a shelter and took it
down, but I neatly folded it for him so he could get off my
property quickly. It was starting to get dark and
I was getting a little worried that I might have made him angry
or he was dead. Somewhere on my property.
I saw someone moving deeper into the forest and shouted out to
him to stop and talk to me. The guy had a pickaxe, so I kept
my shotgun ready in case he got violent.
I saw that he was smashing something with it and started to
freak out, thinking that I'd stumbled onto a killing.
That's when I heard the unmistakable sound of rocks
being smashed. I fired into the air, getting
his attention quickly. He dropped his pickaxe and put
his hands up, mumbling something unintelligible.
My adrenaline was pumping, I was shaking, and Hugo was going mad
on his leash. I screamed at him about smashing
the rocks. He started saying how they were
following him and throwing stuff at him.
I almost shot him then and there, but instead I led him at
gunpoint to the edge of my property and told him to get out
and never come back. A few days later I got a call
from the Sheriff's Office about a body they found near my
property, a homeless guy beaten to death and stuffed into a
tree. They told me a deputy would be
coming to talk to me. The deputy showed up about an
hour later and questioned me about it if I had any
interactions with the homeless guy.
I told him no. He started to leave then turned
around on my porch and mentioned my stone fence was a little low
but looked good. I looked around and saw the
entire edge of the forest around my house was surrounded by
stones. I thanked him and saw him get
into his cruiser. He left and I looked back at my
house. All the stones were gone except
for two. I had a lot of small ones like
gifts and what not and they left me flowers, sometimes Morel
mushrooms and things I've lost. I've been giving them about a
third of my veggies and they seem to like that.
More and more of them show up in my yard rather than my tree line
and they only seem to move when they don't notice me there.
They're very slow moving and the only time I've ever seen them
move quickly is when they roll. I have a lot more animals in my
area now in the forest, and the yard and the garden are much
more lush and green when they're around.
They seem to disappear during storms.
I think they either go into tree hollows or patiently waited out
under other kinds of cover. The garden rock likes to go into
a small covered trellis that I built for it when the rain
comes. I've never heard them speak and
I've only seen their faces a few times.
It's just an oblong rock with beady black eyes that look like
polished black glass. Very spindly arms and legs, not
Bony looking but more vine like that.
They tuck back onto the body and aren't noticeable.
They have 4 toes and three fingers and a thumb.
The bodies are shaped like a bullet and they're about the
size of a gallon jug. The garden rock is more round,
though Their heads sit on the front of the body rather than on
top and kind of blend into it. The eyes are wide spaced, almost
parallel to each other, and about the size of a small
marble. They're covered in Moss and can
range from green to burgundy and I think that might indicate age,
but I don't know. When they stand up and walk,
they look hunched over and they tend to wobble more than just
walk with arms out like they're carrying something under them.
There were a couple of things left in the house before I moved
in, like some personal documents, mostly health
records, and other than that I know the guy came from Holland
and he built the house when he was over 50.
None of his family wanted the land, they just seem to want to
make some quick cash. I did let them spread his ashes
in the forest though, because that's where he spent most of
his time with his wife, and her ashes were also spread out there
according to their daughter. He seemed like a sweet old man.
He liked wood crafting and I found some of his stuff here and
there in the basement in the shop I left to figure out that
he made on the porch, and the next day it was gone.
I'm not sure if the little stone people took it or if it was some
other animal passing through. I know that immoral doesn't
quite cover it. It isn't as though I awoke 1
morning and decided that was the Thursday I was going to roll out
of bed and become a piece of crap.
I didn't pull on last year's trainers and make a pact with
myself that my bank balance would triple because I was going
to become a ghost hunting scam artist greasing my endless lies
with snake oil. But it doesn't matter, not
really. Karma came for me in a big way
and it was deserved. We gained a bit of a niche
following online. Nothing to write home about, but
we made our money from donations and of course the cold hard cash
from the people we sucked the life out of.
I won't bore with fine details, but we ghost busted 19 homes
before we reach the whistle bees.
With each home we bought more equipment to really add credence
to the whole Wraith Wrangler thing.
We turned creaky floorboards into demons, water tank leaks
into Internet views. It was fun until it wasn't.
I'd never met a family quite like them.
The others, they were young couples afraid of whistling
wind, old singles desperate for validation that their home
wasn't heavy with the weight of vengeful spirits.
It was easy muscle memory. But the whistle bees, God, They
were terrified young parents and two children with their family
dog cowering in the corner. When we set up for our bullcrap
interview, the daughter was so pale she seemed to sink into the
walls behind her, face gaunt and eyes haunted.
It was her we latched onto as we probed, stifling excited smirks
with our palms. He never leaves.
She whispered, staring through us as if we weren't really
there. If her eyes glimmered once, they
certainly didn't now, lost and soulless as she gazed into the
abyss. It was Adam who managed to coax
the words from her lips, voice soft as he gently probed.
Who is he? We have plenty of equipment here
to find him in whatever corner he's hiding.
We just need to know as much as you can tell us.
A wry smile made its way onto her lips as she finally looked
at Adam, voice low and deliberate.
You don't need to find him. You'll know where he is, I
promise. He walks on the ceiling and
crawls down the walls. He'll find you.
The young girl's mom spoke suddenly, eyes full of tears.
She didn't used to speak this way.
She breathed, gaze darting around the room.
She's so tired, so tired. She doesn't sleep anymore.
It doesn't let her. Jonah stood up then, grinning as
he clutched his camera for dear life.
Ma'am, don't you worry for a second.
You're in the right hands. We'll find out what your visitor
wants, and we'll cast him right out of here.
You have my word. His word meant nothing, but they
didn't need to know that. The fear in their aura was
palpable. It was as if they had their own
pulsing circle of gravity sucking the life from the room.
Their dread did something foreign to me.
It made me nervous. In all the night time giggling
and masquerading in people's homes, I'd never been scared.
To do this job was to know that ghosts were as real as fairies
and whimsical tales. It was to laugh at the notion.
But during that interview, I wasn't laughing.
The girl's eyes were black holes, and they looked like
they'd sucked her soul out long ago.
So with the image of those eyes burned into my retinas, we did
what we did best. 11:00 PM Rolled around and with the
family booked into a hotel, it was Showtime.
Show yourself, demon. Jonah lunged through the front
door as night time blanketed the house in darkness, hauling our
masses of equipment through. We didn't need any of it,
obviously, but it made people feel as though we were
legitimately expelling ghosts from their homes with the flick
of a battered crucifix. Adam rolled his eyes, glancing
down at the EMF reader in his hand.
Bro, come on. Did you see how scared that girl
was? I feel a little bad.
Damn, she was creepy. Jonah chomped on his gum,
leaving muddy boot stains as he clambered up on the sofa to
stick his camera to the wall. He walks on the ceiling.
Dude must have the mother of all headaches.
I stayed quiet, chewing my lip as I set up our audio equipment
and eyed the tired looking lump of plastic.
The older it looks, the more authentic it appears, Jonah had
assured me. And sure, I supposed it did look
like it belonged in a 1998 horror game, but it was pretty
crap. Not that we'd ever picked up
anything on it before. There was the great scare of
House 12 when the fridge appeared to hum a lilting tune,
but it was just super broken, right?
Jonah jumped downwards, nearly knocking over the coffee table.
Plan is Megan Donovan is leaving the house party you guys didn't
want to go to at like 2. AMI say we wrap up here by 1:00
AM, swing by the party and I'll be her shoulder to cry on
because her douche bag boyfriend was a jerk again all night.
Adam scowled as Jonah cackled, but I stayed mute, casting my
eyes around the room. I couldn't deny this place felt
different somehow. Even with all the lights dancing
across the house, there sat an empty, tepid coldness that
seemed to seep through the walls.
There was no warmth here, no safety.
Loving family photos littered the room, but somehow it felt
barren. Wrong.
I'm down to do this quickly at least.
Adam muttered, eyes darting around nervously.
You guys feel that place? Feels haunted.
I finished for him, rolling my eyes at Jonah's guffaws.
All right, I'll get started. He stared ominously into our
main camera placed across the room, red light blinking towards
the sofa we were sitting on. It's time everyone.
As always. First we'll try to contact the
Ghost and see if we pick up anything on the microphone or
the EMF. Clearing his throat, Adam stole
a glance at me. OK, we're here in your domain,
Ghost. He tried to project, but I heard
the slight crack in his voice. We're here to find out what you
want, why you haunt this family. We're here to set you free.
I counted down from six, bulging my eyes as I shrieked, throwing
myself backwards. No way.
I bellowed, pointing off camera. There's no way.
And we did the usual scramble, all of us claiming we saw a
photo frame go flying, switching to shaky hand Cam footage as
Jonah retrieved it from the floor we laid it on earlier.
It was rehearsed, but something just felt different.
It's hard to describe, but I couldn't shake the feeling.
A pair of eyes were locked on to me, a horrid gaze burning into
my back. The feeling amplified as we
pulled out the trusty Ouija board only moments later, laying
it on the table and pushing it into frame.
I scratched at my arms nervously, trying not to stare
at the shadows that seem to be consuming the room.
All right. Jonah muttered, placing his
finger on the planchette. I ask its name, we give it
something creepy like Maurice. I'll move it.
You guys just stay still, feel free to run the show on this
one. I offered, goosebumps erupting
over my skin. Had it gotten colder in here?
Adam certainly thought so as he hugged his hoodie tighter,
shaking something off as he placed his finger on the
planchette. With us.
The dread was otherworldly, beginning to creep across my
skin and begging me to stop. Spirit.
Jonah demanded dramatically, eyeing each corner of the room.
Make yourself known to us. Show us, communicate with us.
I want to ask, what name gives you your power?
What is your name, Ghost? He waited a fairly believable
amount of time before the plunchet slowly began to move
towards em, but I knew my heart wasn't in my lackluster
reaction. Jonah would yell at me later,
claiming I ruined the entire Ouija shot, but I swore I could
see something in my peripheral, just out of view, staring at me.
I didn't turn my head, didn't dare.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and focused on the board, letting my
jaw drop dramatically. MAURI.
And just like that, the planchette halted painfully.
Almost. Jonah scowled, head snapping to
us. Really, dude?
I was nearly finished. You stopped.
I argued, wondering if it was a blanket on the bookshelf or a
crumpled up man staring dead eyed at me as I was beginning to
suspect it was. Just do it again.
Adam grumbled. And it wasn't usually like this.
We didn't fight, we didn't bite. The house felt as though it was
draining the life from us. The joy I felt physically tired,
as though even being here was soul sucking.
But as I told myself, ghosts were not real.
We were not real. We were opportunistic bastards.
And we were leaving at 1:00 AM. The planchette moved to EM with
ease again, and we forced our shock, but with less enthusiasm
this time. It seemed even Jonah was
struggling now, eyebrows knitted together tensely.
MAURIC and it stopped again, but this time it jerk to the left,
causing a gasp to leave Adam's lips.
Jonah for Pete, what is your problem?
Jonah cried, looking between us as though we were crazy.
Ever since we got in here you've been acting like a couple of
little girls. I swear to God if Megan.
But his words died on his lips because as we all scowled at one
another, the planchette yanked our waiting fingers in the
opposite direction, landing on a letter B Adam for Christ E.
The planchette scraped horribly against the Ouija board and I
couldn't tear my eyes away, sitting between the chaos of my
friends, arguing as each blamed the other, neither paying enough
attention to the board. I swallowed, trying to watch for
a twitch of the muscles in their fingers, some indication of
which one was messing with us E, but there was none.
Their fingers were light, barely grazing the object, jerking
clumsily around the board. Adam met my eyes, trepidation
lining his features. Listen, I just want to get this
crap done and get out of here. If this is you, L, it isn't.
I returned, voice lost in the sound of Jonah growling and
wrenching up the planchette, launching it across the room
till it hit the wall with a sickening crack.
I could only stare in shock at my furious, panting friend, but
Adam lept upwards, throwing his arms out in question.
You can't be serious, Jonah, for Hell's sake, what is wrong with
you? And they argued, yelled, threw
their arms around, ignored the room.
But I couldn't ignore the room. I hadn't been able to ignore it
from the second we'd stepped in here, the atmosphere wrapping
around my throat from the very first second.
We dared, and they weren't seeing it, but I was, the
blanket in the corner of the room hanging limply from the
figure underneath it. Tall, impossibly tall, shrouded
in shadow and with the fabric sagging off it horribly.
Shut up. I whispered to the boys next to
me, but they didn't stop. They didn't stop as the blanket
began to drag closer towards us, the sound of toenails scraping
on the floor echoing louder than even my friends.
I could see the silhouette underneath it, the darkness that
followed the cold, but they didn't notice.
Not until a screech sounded, sending our eyes all in the
direction of the bleeping monstrosity.
Damn. Adam cried, shaking his head at
the EMF detector, which was flashing a bloody red color and
wailing to attention. I was only distracted
momentarily from the carnage, turning around in time to feel a
horrid whoosh of air as the blanket fell into a crumpled
heap a mere inch from my nose. Dropping to my feet.
The air was sucked from my lungs as I tumbled backwards,
collapsing on the sofa and gasping instead of forming
words. Adam looked upon me with
concern, but Jonah was done. Nah.
He growled, wincing at the wail of the EMF machine.
Listen, I'm not doing this all over again.
Come here, let's do something with this God forsaken thing.
Grab it, wave it around, just get up.
My eyes were still darting around the room and only pulled
from their trance as a buzzing fly landed on my hand, narrowly
avoiding death with the flick of my shaking finger.
It woke me up, my voice sounding more strained than I would have
liked. Are you hearing that?
It's detecting something, Jonah. I swear to God, I saw faulty
microwave, shoddy electrics, I don't know.
His voice raised threateningly. Seriously, stop.
Let's leave the room and run in. We'll act shocked about the EMF.
We'll walk around a bit, and then we're going.
I'm sick of you both. I should have argued.
Obviously I should have argued. But I can't describe the way I
felt in that moment. It was as though my fear gave
way to denial so quickly that I was already calling myself
crazy, reaching desperately for the idea that no, I was seeing
things, feeling things, as though I needed to prove to
myself that I was crazy and the horrors my mind was conjuring
simply couldn't exist. So I stayed.
I stayed as the three of us trudged out of the living room,
as we all pulled our clothes tighter and ignored the ice
seeping into our skin. I ignored Adam squeezing my
shoulder, a sentiment he'd never bothered with before.
I ignored my thudding heart as we clutched our cameras,
bursting into the living room in our most epic movie yet, ready
to contort our faces in horror. But we didn't have to fake it.
In the corner was our screaming EMF reader, blinking red as it
had been for the last five minutes.
But the problem was the endless claws wrapped around it,
attached to a figure so tall its head brushed the ceiling and
black eyes glared upon us. It swayed in the shadows, but I
could see its arms gaunt and as long as its legs, neck cracking
awfully as it turned to look at us.
In an instant, a sick dripping sounded, just loud enough for us
to hear. And to this day, I imagine it as
thick Crimson blood falling from its fingers onto its dead,
curled toes. Holy crap.
Adam whispered, so I knew in fact, I hadn't lost my mind.
We ran, of course, scared idiots launching themselves backwards
and tripping over everything, legs Jelly as we bolted for the
front door. I cursed myself for not leaving
more quickly, begged for a time machine to have me believe my
eyes. The first time we didn't make
it, there in the hallway was our 1998 horror movie audio device.
Except now it was crackling, and a rasp sounded from it, too deep
and gravelly to be human. Layers of voices sounded at
once, so distorted I could barely make them out.
I smell your blood, it rasped, the voice touching me so closely
I could practically feel it inside of me.
I'll suck it out of your veins and wear your skin.
And then, before there was time to react, every light bulb in
the house smashed at once. I know because I heard the
shards hit the floor in every room cried out as pure darkness
filled the space, leaving me with no idea where my friends
were and if they even existed anymore.
The door won't open. Adam screeched from my right,
audibly jamming the handle. It won't open.
Where's the crucifix? Jonah begged, and I could hear
the tears in his voice. Adam where?
But now it was only footsteps we heard, not slow ones.
Thudding loud footsteps gaining pace and getting louder and
louder till it sounded like something was running at us.
But the sound didn't come from the floor.
With the most gut wrenching feeling of horror I realized it
was coming from the ceiling. Oh my God.
Adam's voice was below me somewhere because he'd fallen
down into a heap of fear. What the hell is that?
What is that? It was deafening, all of it.
The wailing EMF detector, the rasp of crackling audio
threatening to break all our bones at once, the footsteps
slamming to a stop directly above my head, all leading to
the moment I looked up, a silent tear disappearing in a slow
trickle down my cheek. Its body was contorted horribly
as it glowered down from the ceiling, neck cracked at an
unnatural angle with bones jutting out everywhere.
Dead black holes for eyes bored into mine, hell radiating from
them in such a way that I was knocked to the floor by the
sheer force of it. Rows of razor teeth were pulled
back into a horrific grin, stretching much in the way its
wings did as they grazed the ceiling, reams of liquid
trickling from them onto our heads.
Hell staring from above me. My memory is hazy, and part of
me thinks my brain tried to erase the trauma to give myself
half a chance to go on with my life.
I remember Jonah being lifted into the air with such a
guttural wail that I've never heard a sound like it since.
Remember the sound of his bones crackling as we ran, making
straight for the living room. We threw furniture at the window
and ignored the thud of Jonah's lifeless body being hurled at
us, hitting the wall with a sick crack.
I know we got out. I felt its eyes burning from
behind me as our skin snagged on glass as we sprinted into the
hammering rain, screaming for any help we could find.
When the paramedics came, most of Jonah's leg had already been
eaten, the remains nowhere to be found.
He woke up six days later, screaming bloody murder, screams
he kept up till he was sedated, only reducing to a whimpering
wail the third time they woke him up.
The bottom floor of the house was destroyed along with
everything in it, our equipment crushed, all evidence of our
horrors erased, other than the haunted look in Adams's eyes and
the nightmares that still wake me.
At 3:00 AM, wild animals tore the leg from an unconscious
Jonah. The local police said we were
just idiots holding a seance in a house, leaving the back door
open to all manner of wild animals as we partied ourselves
silly. At first they thought we trashed
the house, but the whistle bees assured the police that no, it
simply wasn't the case. This had happened before.
They told them we were just caught in the crossfire.
They gave their statement that night, protested our innocence,
then packed their bags. They never left.
Their little girl went missing that night, right before they
could flee. Her suitcase sat in her room,
untouched, and that house became a sad legend on those streets,
spoken about in hushed tones. I left town, but something
inside it never left me. We don't speak of it, the three
of us. We left, and when we meet, that
night exists as the elephant in the room, Jonah's scarred stump
reminding us that we didn't imagine the entire thing as a
collective fever dream. So I left, lived my life,
started going to church, took up cricket.
And when I hear the sound of thudding footsteps hammering
along the ceiling of my hallway in the dead of night, I pull the
covers over my head and pray to every God that may or may not
exist that I'll live another day.
It takes such a long time to pick up all 104 crucifixes off
the floor the next morning, but for the life of me, I'll never
stop doing it.