The ranch seemed bigger at sunset, the shadows stretching
long across the fields. Dad had given me a big job that
evening. 1 he didn't usually let me handle alone.
Lucas, I need that patch of trees cleared out, he said.
It's way out on the edge of our property.
Pays good if you get it done. He offered more money than
usual, and I knew why. Those woods were thick and wild,
a place we rarely went, but I was saving up for a truck, so I
figured it'd be worth it. I packed my gear that night and
set my alarm for the crack of dawn.
The morning sun was already high by the time I loaded up the
truck. Chainsaw, gas, lunch, and my
camping gear. Dad said I might need to stay
overnight, just in case. I didn't mind, it was just
trees. How scary could it be?
The drive was rough, bumpier than usual, and the trees
started to close in as I went farther.
Branches clawed at the sides of the truck, and the sunlight
seemed to fade as I got deeper into the woods.
Finally, I reached the clearing, an overgrown patch of wild
trees. It was quiet, so quiet that I
could hear my own breathing. I took a moment to look around,
feeling a strange prickling sensation on the back of my
neck, like someone was watching, but when I turned, nothing was
there. I shook off the feeling and got
to work. The chainsaw roared to life,
echoing through the empty woods as I cut the first few trees.
It felt good to be working, and I soon forgot the odd feeling.
But as the hours passed, weird things started happening.
One tree I cut just disappeared. I swear I'd cut it down.
The stump was there, cleanly sliced, but the tree itself was
nowhere to be seen. I walked around, looking in
every direction, but it was gone.
I shook my head, convincing myself I must have dragged it
off without realizing. Then, as I took a break, the
strange feeling returned, only stronger.
I felt like someone was right there, just outside my line of
sight. I turned quickly, but all I saw
were the trees and shadows. And then I heard it.
Faint but unmistakable laughter. It was almost like a whisper
carried by the wind. It had to be in my head.
I told myself I was alone, but no matter how much I tried to
ignore it, the feeling wouldn't go away.
I tried to keep working, focusing on the next tree, but
every time I glanced up, the shadows seemed closer, like they
were shifting when I wasn't looking.
The sun started to sink, casting the whole clearing in an eerie
golden light that somehow made the woods seem even more
haunting. When night finally fell, I
decided to set up camp and finish the job in the morning.
I built a small fire, hoping it'd keep whatever was out there
away. But as I sat there, staring into
the dark woods, I felt that prickling sensation again,
stronger than ever. It felt like eyes were watching
from every shadow, waiting for me to make the wrong move.
The forest, once a place of freedom, felt like it was
closing in, holding its breath, just waiting.
Darkness settled over the clearing, swallowing up
everything beyond the light of my little fire.
I sat close to the flames, but the warmth didn't do much to
shake off the strange chill that had crept over me.
It felt like the woods were alive somehow, breathing with a
slow, heavy rhythm. I could almost feel the shadows
cast by the fire danced around, but each time I looked they
seemed to stop freezing, as if they didn't want me to notice.
I took a deep breath, telling myself it was just my mind
playing tricks. As I ate dinner, I heard it
again, a soft rustling just outside the light.
I shone my flashlight around, but all I could see were trees,
thick and looming like they were pressing in on me.
Then, out of nowhere, came a sound that made my blood turn to
ice, faint but unmistakable laughter.
It sounded like someone was just beyond the fire's edge, laughing
softly, like they were watching me and finding this all very
funny. Hello.
I called out, my voice shaky. Silence.
Not a single sound, just the crackling of the fire and my own
heartbeat pounding in my ears. I grabbed my flashlight, shining
it through the trees, but there was nothing there.
I tried to calm myself down, telling myself it had to be the
wind, but deep down I knew it wasn't.
I sat back down by the fire, trying to focus on staying warm,
staying alert, but the strange feeling of being watched kept
crawling over me, making it impossible to relax.
I didn't want to think about what could be out there, lurking
just beyond the trees, hiding in the shadows.
The stories Dad had told me when I was little about things in the
woods, things that weren't just animals, flooded my mind, and I
found myself glancing over my shoulder every few seconds.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I crawled into my tent,
hoping I could block it all out and sleep.
But no sooner had I zipped up the tent than a loud thump
jolted me awake. I froze, listening hard, every
nerve in my body on high alert. The sound came from right by the
truck, and it was followed by what I could only describe as
breathing. Slow, heavy breaths. close.
Far too close. My hand trembled as I unzipped
the tent, just a tiny crack peeking out into the moonlit
clearing. Everything looked still, the
truck and trailer parked right where I'd left them.
But then I saw it. Just a glimpse of a shadow, tall
and thin, slipping behind a tree.
My heart raced as I tried to tell myself it was nothing, just
my imagination. But deep down, I knew better.
I tried to sleep, but every sound outside made me jump.
The laughter was gone, but the breathing was still there,
steady and closer than ever. I didn't dare move.
I lay there, stiff as a board, eyes wide open, listening,
feeling the forest close in around me, like it was waiting
for me to make one wrong move. I barely made it through the
night. Every time I closed my eyes, I
felt that heavy breathing, closer than before.
When the first hint of dawn broke, I scrambled out of the
tent, packed up in record time, and jumped into the truck, ready
to leave. My hands were shaking so bad it
took a few tries to get the keys in the ignition.
The engine roared to life and I took off, leaving the forest and
whatever was in it behind me. When I got home, I didn't tell
Dad the whole story, just that I'd had trouble with the trailer
and didn't feel like staying out overnight.
He looked at me a bit funny, probably because I must have
looked like I hadn't slept in days, but he didn't push.
He only told me we'd go back in the morning to retrieve the
trailer I'd left behind. The drive back to the clearing
felt slower than ever. Everything looked different in
daylight, almost normal. The shadows were gone, and the
trees didn't seem to close in the same way, but my heart
wouldn't stop pounding. I could feel that unease
creeping back, reminding me of every sound, every breath I'd
heard in the dark. When we reached the clearing,
the trailer was exactly where I'd left it, still loaded with
logs. I helped Dad hook it up to the
truck, but as we worked, I felt eyes on me again.
I glanced at the trees, and for a split second I could have
sworn I saw a shadow moving tall and thin, slipping behind a
tree. I tried to ignore it, telling
myself it was just my imagination, but it was hard to
shake the feeling that we weren't alone.
On the drive home, the image of that shadow stuck in my head,
and I felt the need to know what I'd seen.
That night, after Dad went to bed, I crept into his study.
He kept a lot of old books in there, mostly about history, but
some were about local legends and folklore.
I hadn't paid much attention to them before, but I pulled one
off the shelf, flipping through until something caught my eye.
A chapter on creatures that supposedly lurked in the deep
woods. My hands trembled as I read.
The creature described was called the Lurker, a twisted,
shadowy figure said to prey on people who wandered alone into
the woods. It was known for hiding behind
trees, staying just out of sight and following its victims
silently, patiently. I thought of the laughter, the
breathing, and that shadow slipping through the trees.
I felt a chill run down my spine.
The next day I mentioned it to Dad, careful to act like it was
no big deal. He looked at me strangely and
then told me that my great grandfather used to talk about
creatures like that, shadows in the woods that no one could
explain. He said some locals still refuse
to go too deep into the forest at night, and now I understood
why. Now, every time I pass the edge
of our property, I feel it. The same prickling, the same
heavy feeling like someone's watching.
And I know, deep down, that something's out there, lurking
in the shadows, waiting. And I won't be going back
anytime soon. I'd walk these trails my whole
life. The Appalachian Mountains were
the kind of place you learn to respect.
Quiet, ancient, and always watching.
I thought I knew every bend and trail marker, each trick of
light that made it seem darker than it really was.
But when I saw that unfamiliar path stretching off to the
right, narrow and barely there, I hesitated.
I don't know what compelled me to step onto it.
Maybe it was the way the trees curved over, or maybe something
about the silence that seemed even quieter than usual.
So, against my better judgment, I turned and walked into the
unknown. After a few steps, the forest
grew denser and I could barely see the sky through the thick
branches. The air had an odd metallic
Tang, like blood or rust, sharp enough to sting the back of my
throat. The trees around me were
blackened and twisted, some bent so far their trunks nearly
touched the ground. Each one looked scorched, as if
fire had once swept through here and stopped in the middle of
nowhere. I stopped, taking in the
silence, a heavy, waiting sort of quiet, as if even the birds
had learned to steer clear. Then I saw it.
A massive open wound in the forest floor, a crater so deep I
could barely see the bottom. Charred roots jutted from its
sides, clawing toward the center, where something strange
glinted in the sunlight. I moved closer, my footsteps
muffled by the blackened dirt. As I reached the edge, I saw
what had caught the light. It was a book, a small leather
journal resting right in the heart of the pit.
Something about it made my skin prickle, but I couldn't leave it
behind. I lowered myself into the
crater, hands digging into the loose earth as I slid down.
The journal was cold when I picked it up, colder than it
should have been. The leather was old, worn and
cracked with the words FALLEN Kingdom faintly embossed on the
cover. Flipping it open, I saw sketches
disturbing ones, trees twisted into unnatural shapes, strange
symbols carved into stones, and creatures drawn in heavy,
shadowed lines. Each page seemed to pulse with
something dark, something that didn't belong in the light.
And then, scrawled on one of the pages was a name.
Louis Caldwell. My blood ran cold.
I knew that name. Louis Caldwell was my uncle, the
one who had disappeared into these woods nearly 20 years ago.
They'd searched, combed every trail and hollow, but never
found a trace of him. And yet here was his journal, as
if it had been waiting for me to find it.
I looked up suddenly feeling exposed, like eyes were pressing
in from the forest's edge. Shadows moved just at the edge
of my vision, shapes that didn't match any animal I knew.
The air turned even colder, carrying a faint whisper that
might have been the wind, but felt too deliberate.
My legs tensed and I scrambled up the side of the crater,
clutching the journal tight. I could feel something watching
me, something that knew I'd taken its secret.
A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt the forest close in
around me, its silence heavy and almost expectant.
I walked fast, nearly jogging with the journal weighing heavy
in my hands. Every breaking twig made me
jump, every gust of wind felt like a warning.
By the time I reached the main trail, my heart was racing, and
I glanced back one last time. The trees stood silent, as if
they'd never seen me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that
I was already marked. The next night, I couldn't
sleep. The forest seemed to press in
tighter around the cabin, thick and stifling, a silent watcher
waiting just out of reach. I'd been poring over the journal
all afternoon, reading Lewis's scrawled notes until the words
blurred on the page, feeling him in every line, the terror he
must have felt, the disbelief his sketches filled the margins.
Crude drawings of things he'd seen out here, creatures that
hid between the trees, half formed faces peering from
twisted shadows, and one note repeated over and over in his
jagged, heavy handwriting. Never look behind you.
I don't know why I stayed. Some combination of curiosity
and loyalty, maybe a pull to know the truth about Lewis.
Whatever it was, it made me ignore the quiet voice in my
head screaming for me to leave. Instead, I shut the journal,
pocketed my flashlight, and stepped out into the night.
The darkness swallowed me whole. The trees were just towering
shadows, gnarled arms reaching up to block out the thin slice
of moonlight. I walked down the path toward
the clearing, feeling my way like a blind man.
Everything seemed sharper at night, the rustle of leaves, the
whisper of the wind threading through the branches.
I kept my steps light, almost unwilling to disturb the
silence. That's when I heard it.
A faint crunch somewhere close, like leaves under foot.
I froze, straining to listen. The sound came again, deliberate
and slow, circling me. I didn't dare turn, didn't want
to know what might be watching me from behind.
Lewis's words rang in my ears. Never look behind you.
I kept moving, telling myself it was just the wind or some animal
moving through the underbrush. But deep down, I knew I felt it.
A wait just outside my line of sight, something following,
keeping time with my steps. My hand tightened on the
flashlight in my pocket, but I didn't dare pull it out.
It felt like an admission, like if I turned on the light,
whatever was out there would know I knew it was there.
The footsteps grew louder, each one sinking into the silence,
drawing closer. My skin prickled with every
crunch of the leaves, every crack of a twig.
I took another step, holding my breath.
And that's when I heard it. A whisper, soft but clear,
calling my name. A shiver clawed up my spine, icy
fingers twisting through my gut. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, my
pulse hammering in my ears. But that whisper, God, it
sounded so close, like someone standing just behind me, leaning
in, breath warm against my neck. I could feel its presence, the
space it took up in the dark, a cold, patient shadow.
I forced myself to move forward, each step dragging against the
weight of that whisper. It followed, relentless, echoing
in the silent trees. My mind raced, replaying the
stories I'd read in Lewis's journal of shadows that take
shape, creatures that wait in the dark.
I'd thought it was his imagination, his fear.
Now I wasn't so sure. Finally, I saw the cabin through
the trees, it's outline a lifeline in the blackness.
I didn't look back, not even when the footsteps stopped
fading into the night, the forest falling silent once more.
But I felt it even as I crossed the threshold and bolted the
door. Whatever was out there wasn't
gone. It was waiting.
I didn't wait for morning. Something about the stillness
felt too heavy, like the forest was holding its breath, waiting
for me to make a mistake. I packed my things, hands
shaking as I zipped up my bag and jammed the journal into my
coat pocket. The cabin walls seemed to close
in, pressing me toward the door. I'd told myself I'd find answers
here, but all I'd found was fear.
Whatever was out there, it wasn't something I could make
sense of or confront. It was something older,
something that didn't want me here.
Stepping outside, the cold night air hit me like a slap.
My flashlight barely cut through the dark, the beam bouncing as
my hands trembled. The silence felt thicker
tonight. Heavier.
I walked fast, telling myself I just needed to make it to the
main trail, then it would be fine.
But I could feel it, that presence lurking somewhere
behind me, out of sight, but not out of mind.
My heartbeat echoed in my ears, drowning out the crunch of my
boots on the dirt. That's when I heard it, a low,
throaty growl rumbling from deep in the woods.
It was close, far too close, and it wasn't the sound of any
animal I'd ever heard before. I froze, gripping the
flashlight, its feeble light trembling as I held it out
toward the sound. The darkness shifted, like
something moving just beyond the beam's reach, and I could make
out the vague outline of antlers twisting into the sky, forming a
grotesque crown above a hulking shadow.
My breath caught as I saw those eyes burning yellow fixed on me,
holding me there like prey caught in a trap.
My legs moved before I knew what I was doing.
I turned and ran, tearing down the trail as fast as I could,
the journal thumping against my chest with each step.
I could hear it behind me, its massive steps heavy and
deliberate, closing the distance.
Branches lashed at my face, thorns scraping my arms, but I
kept going, heart pounding, lungs burning.
The trail twisted, and I stumbled, nearly losing my
footing. When I looked up, my heart sank.
I was back at the crater, the very place I'd tried to leave
behind. The beast loomed at the edge of
the pit, its shadow spilling over the earth, waiting.
Its eyes glowed brighter, and a sickening growl rolled from its
throat, reverberating through the ground.
I backed away, but the ground was loose, crumbling beneath my
boots. Panic gripped me, and for a
moment, I thought I'd tumble into the pit.
I reached into my pocket and gripped the journal, clinging to
Louis's words like a lifeline. There was a phrase he'd
scrawled, a desperate incantation he'd used to keep
the shadows at Bay. My voice was barely a whisper,
but I forced the words out, repeating them over and over, my
voice growing louder as the beast drew closer.
For a moment, the creature paused, as if the words had
struck it. Its yellow eyes flickered, just
for an instant, and I took my chance.
I scrambled up the edge of the crater, lunged forward, and
bolted through the trees. My legs felt like they'd give
out at any second, but I kept moving, tearing through the
forest, every breath ragged. When I finally saw the main
trail ahead, I didn't look back. I burst out of the trees,
collapsing on the dirt path, the forest's silence crashing down
like a wall. The Appalachian Mountain stood
behind me, still and silent, but I knew it wasn't finished.
I could feel it, waiting for the next time I dared to return.
And part of me knew if I did, I'd never leave again.
When I got to the reservation that summer, I couldn't wait to
see my cousins. Everything out here was
different. The trees were bigger, the air
smelled fresher, and it was way quieter than the city.
My cousins Lucas, Sarah, and Eli were already waiting for me on
the front porch and from the look on Lucas's face, I knew he
had something planned. It was after dinner and we were
sitting on the porch just watching.
The sun dipped down behind the trees.
The adults were inside, talking and laughing like they always
did. I hadn't been back for long when
Lucas leaned in close and whispered.
What if we go camping tonight? Sarah frowned immediately.
You know, Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't want us out there after
dark. She said, looking toward the
house. They've told us like a million
times don't go in the woods at night.
Lucas shrugged, giving us his usual grin.
That's why we won't tell them. I felt a nervous thrill at the
idea. We could just ask, you know?
I suggested, even though I already knew what Lucas would
say. They'll just say no.
He replied, waving a hand. Come on, it'll be fun.
We'll set up a tent, tell some stories, and come back before
sunrise. They won't even know.
Eli, who was only 11, looked really nervous.
What if we get caught? He asked, glancing toward the
house. Sarah glanced over at me, trying
to make up her mind. I was excited, but there was a
part of me that didn't feel quite right.
But then I thought, what's the worst that could happen?
All the kids my age at school would say something like Yolo.
All right? I said finally.
But we have to be careful. Eli sighed but eventually agreed
to, even though he still looked worried.
When midnight came, we waited until the adults were all
asleep. We could hear our grandparents
snoring from their bedroom as we crept past the door, trying not
to step on any of the old floorboards that creaked.
Then, quietly as we could, we slipped out the back door and
into the cool night air. As we walked through the forest,
everything felt different. By daylight, we knew this path
like the backs of our hands, but now it seemed darker, even with
the moon shining through the trees.
Every sound felt louder, every shadow a little creepier.
A branch snapped somewhere to our left and we all jumped, but
Lucas laughed it off, trying to keep the mood light.
After about 20 minutes we made it to the Creek where there was
a little clearing surrounded by trees.
We set up the tent, which was harder than it looked without a
light. Once we finally got it standing,
we huddled around a small battery powered Lantern.
It's soft glow was just enough to light our faces, but
everything outside our circle seemed pitch black.
Lucas rubbed his hands together with a grin.
All right, who's got a good story?
Sarah's eyes gleamed in the dim light.
I've got one. Have you guys ever heard of the
Raven Mocker? Eli hugged his knees.
I don't like that one. But Lucas just leaned closer,
his eyes full of excitement. We sat in a tight circle around
the little Lantern, our faces half lit, shadows flickering
across the tent walls. Sarah leaned in, her eyes
serious. The Raven Mocker is a spirit
that steals the hearts of the dying.
She began. It takes the years they would
have had to live longer itself. She paused, glancing at each of
us. It can look like a Raven, or
even like a person, but only medicine men can see it in its
true form. Eli's face was pale.
Do we have to talk about this? He whispered, looking around
like he expected something to swoop out of the dark.
Lucas grinned. Ah, come on, Eli, it's just a
story, but I could tell even he was a little nervous.
Besides, I've got one that's even scarier.
He leaned in close, lowering his voice.
Have you guys heard of the deer woman?
Sarah rolled her eyes, but I couldn't help but shiver as he
started. They say she looks like a
beautiful woman to trick people into following her into the
woods, but once she's got you far enough away, she changes.
Lucas paused for effect, his eyes wide.
She has hooves for feet and a face like a stag.
I glanced at the shadows outside, swallowing hard.
The idea of something pretending to be human was creepy, and the
thought of her wandering somewhere out in the dark made
me feel like we weren't alone. All right, enough.
Eli said, clutching his knees. Can we talk about something
else? I decided to jump in, hoping to
lighten the mood. What about the legend of the
Star people? I said.
They're supposed to be peaceful. They come from the stars to
teach people wisdom. They're not scary at all.
Lucas rolled his eyes. That's lame, Ben.
He looked around, his face dead serious now.
My grandpa told me something once, something he swore was
real. Sarah's expression darkened.
Lucas don't. But Lucas leaned in, undeterred.
He said when he was our age, he saw a skinwalker.
The tent fell silent. We all knew about skinwalkers,
but we'd never really talked about them before.
Even the Elders didn't like to mention them.
A skin Walker is a witch. Lucas continued, his voice
barely above a whisper. Who can turn into animals to do
dark magic? My grandpa was out gathering
wood with his dad, but somehow they got separated.
Then, in the middle of the clearing, he saw a coyote
standing on two legs, staring right at him.
Lucas, don't. Sarah whispered, but she looked
just as curious as I felt. Lucas kept going, his face pale.
He thought he was seeing things, but then the coyote started
walking toward him, its body twisting and changing.
Lucas shivered. It had the face of a man,
stretched tight over its skull, and it whispered his name.
Eli whimpered, clutching my arm. I think we should go to sleep.
I suggested, my voice shaky. Just as we started to settle
down, I heard a sound outside. A soft shuffling, like feet
dragging through leaves. We all froze, staring at each
other in terror. The shuffling grew louder,
closer. Lucas turned to us, his face
drained of color. Did did you guys hear that?
The shuffling sound grew louder, coming closer with every step.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst right out
of my chest. I looked around at my cousins.
Sarah's eyes were wide with fear.
Eli was gripping my arm so tightly it hurt, and even Lucas
looked terrified, his mouth set in a thin line.
What is that? Eli whispered, his voice barely
audible. SH.
Lucas mouthed his finger to his lips.
He reached slowly for the flashlight, his hand shaking.
Carefully, he unzipped a tiny section of the tent flap, just
enough to peek outside. We huddled behind him, each of
us straining to see without making a sound.
The flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across
the trees. At first, there was nothing but
shadows and branches, but then something moved.
A figure emerged from behind a tree, and I felt a cold shiver
run down my spine. It looked like a coyote, but not
like any coyote I'd ever seen. Its body was twisted and
stretched with long, Bony limbs that didn't seem to fit.
Patches of its fur were missing, and its skin looked pulled too
tightly over its bones. But the worst part was its face.
It was like someone had tried to stretch a human face over a
coyote's skull. The eyes were sunken and dark,
and its mouth hung open in a silent scream.
The creature moved slowly, in a jerky, unnatural way, circling
our tent. I held my breath, not daring to
move. It didn't seem to notice us, at
least not yet. It was looking around, its head
twitching from side to side as if it were searching for
something. Sarah covered her mouth to keep
from screaming, and Eli's grip on my arm tightened.
Lucas slowly lowered the flap, turning off the flashlight.
We all huddled together, barely breathing, hoping that if we
stayed quiet, it would go away. The shuffling grew louder,
circling closer and closer to the tent.
Then, in a raspy, distorted voice, we heard it speak.
Help me, it whispered, each word sounding like it was being
forced out of something that barely knew how to speak.
A wave of terror washed over me. It was mimicking a human voice,
but it sounded wrong, too low, too harsh, like it was trying to
trick us. Please, help me.
Eli began to shake, tears welling in his eyes.
Sarah put a hand on his shoulder, mouthing.
Don't move. We were all frozen, hoping,
praying that it would leave. The creature pressed against the
tent fabric, close enough that we could see its shadow
stretched and distorted. A rotten smell filled the tent,
something like decay mixed with sulfur.
I clenched my eyes shut, silently begging it to go away.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the shuffling noise
started to fade. We sat there, still frozen as
the sounds moved farther and farther away, until the forest
was quiet again. As the first light of dawn broke
through the trees, we scrambled out of the tent and ran back
home, leaving everything behind. None of us dared look back.
I worked as a logger, spending my days in the forest cutting
down trees for a new housing project.
To be honest, I didn't feel great about it, knocking down
trees and clearing land, but hey, it paid the bills.
The forest was beautiful and peaceful most of the time, even
if it had its strange moments. The guys I worked with had found
old abandoned tents, jackets, and even shoes left behind.
But some stories were downright creepy.
Once someone found bones that nobody could identify, they were
still being talked about, the remains of some poor person
who'd never been found. I always thought the stories
were just legends to spook us, but that was before my last week
out there. That evening just before sunset,
I had gone a little further into the trees to find some privacy.
I could still hear my two Co workers laughing and talking
near the truck, but their voices were faint.
I walked into the deeper part of the woods, keeping an eye out
for any thorny branches or rocks.
It was just about 6:00 PM and the light was fading fast in the
winter. It got dark earlier, which meant
we were usually packing up. By now I had wandered a bit
further than I should have, but the guys knew I'd be back soon.
As I was standing there, I suddenly heard a loud snap, a
branch breaking close by. My heart started beating faster.
I turned slightly, thinking it was one of my Co workers trying
to mess with me. Nice try guys.
I muttered under my breath, feeling a little uneasy.
I heard another crack, even closer this time, followed by a
low weird chuckle. That laugh didn't sound quite
right. It was strange, almost like it
had a rasp to it, but I convinced myself it was just
them playing around. Come on, guys.
I said, louder. Now let's get out of here, it's
getting cold. They didn't answer.
I zipped up my jacket, feeling a shiver run down my spine.
Something didn't feel right. I could see shadows growing in
the trees as the last bits of daylight faded.
The forest was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
But then there was another snap, this time coming from behind a
thick, shadowed tree. I spun around, and there it was,
a figure, tall and strange, half hidden behind a tree about 50
yards away. It was about my height, maybe a
little taller, but its head was odd, almost too big, and its
eyes red, glowing like embers in the shadows.
I froze, staring at it, unable to move.
A thin trail of steam rose from its body in the cold air.
It looked like it was breathing heavily, almost like a growl,
and I could hear every rough, raspy breath.
My feet felt like they were glued to the ground.
I couldn't tell what I was looking at, but I knew it wasn't
anything normal. I took a shaky step backward,
then another, but the thing didn't move.
It just stood there, watching me, its glowing eyes fixed on
me. Finally, I forced myself to turn
and run back to the truck, my heart pounding louder than ever.
My feet stumbled over roots and rocks, but I kept going, hearing
only silence behind me. But even as I reached the truck,
I couldn't shake the feeling that it was still out there,
watching. The next morning, I still felt
that same chill from the night before, like something had
followed me home, even though I knew it couldn't have.
I'd barely slept, haunted by the memory of those red glowing eyes
and the strange rough breathing that had echoed through the
forest. When I got to the job site, the
guys were already there, talking in low voices.
They looked over when I arrived, and I could tell they were just
as spooked as I was, even if they didn't want to admit it.
Our boss didn't believe us when we told him what we'd seen.
He laughed it off. You boys got too many ghost
stories in your heads. It's just shadows and wildlife
out there, he said, shrugging. Now get back to work.
These trees aren't going to cut themselves.
I didn't argue, but I could tell the others were still on edge.
None of us wanted to be there, especially not after what we'd
seen. But work was work, and we didn't
have a choice. We got to the clearing, the area
where we'd been cutting down trees, and went right to work.
I tried to focus on my job, tried to ignore the way the
forest felt. It was too quiet, like it was
holding its breath. Normally we'd hear birds or
squirrels or even the wind rustling the leaves, but now,
nothing. Just the steady hum of the
chainsaws and the crunch of our boots on the cold, hard ground.
Every so often I'd look up, scanning the trees.
I knew it was out there, I could feel it, but the forest looked
empty. My skin prickled, and every snap
of a branch, a rustle of leaves made me jump.
The guys were jumpy too. Every time I glanced over, one
of them was looking around, squinting into the shadows, just
like me. The silence wrapped around us,
growing heavier with every hour. Finally, as we were packing up
for the day, I heard it again. A growl, deep and low, coming
from the South. My heart started pounding.
The other guys froze, and I saw the fear flash in their eyes.
None of us wanted to move, but we had to know if it was there.
Slowly, we all turned toward the sound, squinting into the fading
light. At first there was nothing, just
shadows between the trees. Then one of the guys whispered
there and pointed. My stomach twisted as I spotted
it, the creature from last night.
It was closer now, standing still, watching us, its red eyes
blazing. In the dim light, I could see
the strange shape of its head, the thin steam rising off its
skin. It looked more terrifying in the
daylight than it had in the dark.
Without thinking, my Co worker reached into the truck, pulled
out a pistol from the glove box, and took aim.
Crack. He fired once, twice, and we saw
the creature stumble, the shots hitting it in the leg in the
chest, but it didn't fall. It let out a horrible, angry
snarl, then retreated back into the shadows, disappearing as
suddenly as it had appeared. We jumped into the truck, barely
speaking, and drove back to camp.
My heart was racing, my mind spinning.
I didn't know what we had seen, but I knew one thing.
Whatever it was, it was still out there, and it wasn't going
to leave us alone. I didn't want to go back out
there after what we'd seen. I was ready to quit, to walk
away from logging in the forest altogether.
But we didn't have much of A choice.
Our boss was firm. Either show up or get fired.
So there we were, the three of us heading back into that forest
as the sun started rising, our breath visible in the cold
morning air. The ride was quiet, nobody
spoke. We were all thinking the same
thing about those red eyes and that awful heavy breathing.
My hands were shaking as we parked the truck and got out,
each of us carrying our gear without a word.
Every step felt heavier as we moved toward the clearing.
The forest was completely silent, not even a bird
chirping. It felt like we'd walked into a
graveyard. We started our work quickly,
eager to get it done and get out.
None of us wanted to be there longer than we had to be, but as
the hours passed, I kept glancing over my shoulder,
feeling like I was being watched.
Every so often, I'd catch one of the other guys doing the same.
We didn't say anything, but I knew they felt it too.
The air was thick with tension, like the forest itself was
holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Finally, we started packing up the equipment, ready to get out
of there. That's when I heard it.
The growl. My blood turned to ice as the
sound filled the clearing, low and menacing, coming from
somewhere to the South. I saw my friends freeze, their
eyes wide with fear. We turned, looking toward the
trees, but saw nothing. The growling grew louder,
echoing around us. It was closer this time, a
horrible rumbling sound that made my skin crawl.
One of the guys pointed, and I followed his gaze.
There, just at the edge of the clearing, was the creature.
Its red eyes glowed, staring straight at us.
It looked bigger somehow, and angrier.
I could see the dark spots where the bullets had hit it
yesterday, but it didn't seem hurt.
If anything, it looked more furious, like it was out for
revenge. My Co worker with the pistol
raised it again, his hands shaking.
He fired once, then twice, but the creature didn't even flinch.
It took a step toward us, its growl turning into a snarl.
My heart pounded as we backed up, moving toward the truck,
never taking our eyes off it. Get in.
I shouted, and we scrambled into the truck, slamming the doors
behind us. The creature lunged forward,
slamming into the side of the truck with a force that rocked
us sideways. It let out a horrible scream, a
sound I'll never forget. Half roar, half wail, like it
was something not of this world. My friend floored the gas and we
speed down the dirt Rd. away from the clearing, away from the
thing that haunted that forest. As we hit the main road, the
growling faded, but the memory of those red eyes stayed with
us. We didn't talk much on the ride
back, but we all knew one thing. Whatever that creature was, it
wasn't gone. It was still out there, lurking
in those dark trees, waiting. I couldn't remember the last
time I'd been this far from the city.
Michael's old Jeep rattled down the winding dirt Rd. bouncing
over potholes as tall trees stretched up around us.
The world was getting quieter and darker as the day slipped
into dusk, and for the first time, I was questioning this
whole idea of camping out here in Shawnee National Forest.
But Michael, my best friend, was going through it after his
younger brother's death, and he needed this.
So here we were, me, Andre, Leah, and Michael all packed
into the car with our camping gear and more bags than we
probably needed for a weekend. After a few miles of nothing but
forest, we finally found a clearing where we could set up
camp. The air felt thick with quiet,
broken only by the sounds of our shoes crunching on the dirt and
the rustling of leaves. As we unloaded the tents and
bags, I noticed Leah staring off into the trees, her face
shadowed with something I couldn't read.
You good? I asked, nudging her.
She snapped out of it, flashing me a quick grin.
Just. It's spooky out here, isn't it?
I nodded, but didn't think much of it.
We were deep in the woods, after all, what did she expect?
Once the tents were set up and a small fire was crackling, we
finally started to relax a little.
We roasted marshmallows, told jokes, and swapped dumb stories
from school. For a moment, things felt
normal, even good. Michael laughed for the first
time in ages, his face softening in the firelight.
I could see him relaxing, like maybe we'd made the right call
bringing him out here. As the night dragged on, Leah
decided to sleep outside in her hammock, saying she wanted to
fall asleep under the stars. The rest of us headed to our
tents, our flashlights bouncing off the trees and making weird
shadows. The noises of the night felt
like they were growing louder. Crickets, branches cracking in
the distance, the low hoot of an owl.
I tried to brush it off, reminding myself we were just in
the middle of nature. But just as I was drifting off,
something caught my ear. A faint, distant sound that
almost sounded like singing. I lay there in the dark, holding
my breath, trying to listen. It was probably nothing.
Maybe a bird or the wind. Still, I checked my phone and
saw a text from Leah. Can you see them?
There are kids out here. My stomach dropped.
Kids here in the middle of the forest.
I unzipped my tent as quietly as I could and peered outside.
Leah was frozen in her hammock, her eyes fixed on something just
beyond the fire light. I squinted, trying to see what
she was looking at. And that's when I noticed them.
Two small figures, no taller than 4 feet, standing at the
edge of our camp. They didn't move, they just
stood there, their faces hidden in shadow.
I stepped out of the tent, my heart pounding.
Hey, are you guys lost? I called out.
One of the figures tilted its head like it was thinking, then
finally answered. Its voice was low and flat.
We're cold, can we come closer? A shiver crawled up my spine.
There was something wrong about the way it spoke, something that
made the hairs on my neck stand up.
I felt Andre come up beside me, whispering.
This isn't right, man, we should leave.
But I couldn't look away from those kids.
We all stood there, frozen, staring at the kids standing
just beyond the fire light. They were so still, like
statues, their faces hidden in shadow.
Leah finally whispered. What are they doing out here?
Her voice was shaking, and honestly, so was I.
Michael cleared his throat, trying to sound calm.
Maybe they're lost. He said, though he didn't look
convinced. Are you guys all right?
He called again, louder this time.
One of the kids, the smaller one, tilted its head to the
side, as if considering the question.
Then, in a voice so flat and cold it felt like a slap, the
kid replied. Please let us in.
We're cold. I don't know why, but that
simple request made my stomach twist.
Something was off, something I couldn't put my finger on.
Michael glanced at me, his expression just as uneasy.
Leah, looking torn, took a shaky step forward.
Maybe we should. I mean, they're just kids,
right? They could be lost.
But Andre grabbed her arm, stopping her.
Wait, look at their eyes. He whispered, his voice barely a
breath. It was only then that I noticed
the fire light flickered across the kids faces, and I could
finally see their eyes. Black, pitch black, like they
had no whites or irises at all, just two inky voids staring back
at us. My heart hammered in my chest,
every instinct telling me that whatever these kids were, they
weren't normal. Michael took a shaky step back,
his hand clenching into a fist. Look.
He said, trying to keep his voice steady.
We, we don't have room in the tent, but maybe we could call
someone for you tomorrow. He was stammering, practically
tripping over his words. The kids didn't react, they just
stood there, staring at us, unblinking.
Then, after what felt like forever, one of them spoke
again, it's voice colder than before.
It's rude to leave us out here, invite us in.
Leah looked at us, eyes wide. What do we do?
They're just kids. Are they?
Andre cut her off, his face pale.
They don't seem right. Just then, the fire flickered,
casting long shadows over the campsite, and a chill swept over
us, colder than the forest air. The kids took a step closer, and
my heart practically jumped into my throat.
I forced myself to speak, my voice shaking.
We, we can't let you in. It's too, it's too cold for
anyone else. At that, one of the kids smiled.
Only it wasn't a normal smile. It was too wide, too forced,
like someone pretending to be happy.
The other kid said. We don't need warmth, we need
you to let us in. Panic flared through me.
This wasn't right, this wasn't normal.
I pulled out my phone, desperate to call someone, anyone, but the
screen was dead, the battery drained even though I'd charged
it before we left. I looked around, seeing the
others checking their phones too, each of their faces turning
pale as they realized the same thing.
No one had service, no one had power.
The kids were still standing there, closer than before, their
eyes never leaving us. Leah's voice was barely a
whisper. What?
What are they? None of us had an answer.
We just backed away, huddling together as the voices of the
kids rose again in a haunting chant, repeating Let us in.
The chanting grew louder, filling the night air with a
creepy rhythm that made my skin crawl.
Let us in, let us in. It was as if the words had a
life of their own, echoing around us, bouncing off the
trees. I couldn't tell if the voices
were coming from the kids or from somewhere deeper in the
forest. Andre clenched his fists, his
eyes darting from me to Michael. We have to get out of here, he
whispered, urgency thicken his voice now.
Michael didn't argue. We all scrambled to pack up our
gear as fast as we could, hands shaking, throwing everything
into the Jeep without bothering to organize it.
The kids just stood there, watching us with those empty
black eyes, never blinking, their eerie smiles stretching
wider with every passing 2nd. I took one last look at them
before diving into the Jeep. It was the way they stared, like
they knew something we didn't, like they were waiting for us to
mess up and invite them in by mistake.
I could hardly breathe as Andre slammed the door shut behind us,
his knuckles white as he fumble with the keys, finally getting
the engine to roar to life. The headlights sliced through
the darkness, illuminating the kids one last time.
They hadn't moved, but they were still watching, their smiles
fading into blank expressions As we pulled away.
I held my breath, praying we'd just speed out of the forest and
never see them again. But as we picked up speed,
something caught my eye in the trees.
A shadow, small and quick, darting from tree to tree.
They're following us. Leah whispered, her voice barely
audible. How?
How are they keeping up? I didn't know, none of us did.
But every time I looked out the window, I saw one of those
shadowy figures flitting between the trees, always just on the
edge of the headlights, as if they were taunting us, daring us
to stop. After what felt like hours, we
finally saw the lights of a gas station up ahead.
It was rundown, but the bright lights spilling across the
parking lot felt like the first breath of safety we'd had all
night. We pulled in, parking as close
to the entrance as we could. The four of us stumbled out,
practically collapsing into the store, where a Gray haired man
was standing behind the counter, his face a mask of mild
curiosity. You kids all right?
He asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in our pale faces and
shaking hands. Michael tried to speak, but his
voice cracked. I ended up explaining, words
tumbling out of my mouth about the kids with black eyes, the
chanting, the way they'd followed us here.
The man listened quietly, not interrupting, but when I
mentioned the black eyes, his expression darkened.
He looked at us, then slowly shook his head.
You've seen them, He muttered, almost to himself.
They've been showing up here for years, though people don't talk
about it much. They look like kids, but they
aren't. They'll try to get in, use every
trick they can to make you let them, but if you let them in,
you'll never be seen again. My blood ran cold.
The words sank in, heavy and terrifying.
Will, will they still follow us? Leah asked, her voice breaking.
The man looked out the window, his face serious.
Maybe they don't like to be ignored, but if you get far
enough, maybe they'll lose interest.
He looked back at us. Just don't ever open your door
to them again. Not anywhere.
We stayed in that gas station until dawn, clutching our
coffees, watching the dark edges of the parking lot for any sign
of movement. By the time the sun rose, we
were too exhausted to speak, but one thing was clear.
None of us would ever forget those faces or the feeling of
being hunted by something we couldn't understand.
And no matter what, I knew one thing for sure.
I'd never feel safe in the dark again.
I'm Henry, and last week I decided to head out alone to a
hidden fishing spot deep in the Tennessee woods.
My friend Will had told me about it, saying it was full of fish.
Big ones too. He'd only found it a few days
before, but swore it was worth the trip.
Since his daughter was sick, he couldn't come with me, so I was
on my own. I followed his directions as
best as I could remember. It took longer than I thought,
twisting through thick trees and rough trails.
The air was so still. Usually when I'm in the woods I
hear birds, bugs, maybe a squirrel or two, but here
nothing. Just the crunch of leaves under
my boots and the soft rustle of branches.
At one point I stopped because it felt like something was
watching me. I shook off the feeling, trying
to convince myself it was just my imagination.
Still, a chill ran down my spine.
After what felt like hours, I finally reached the pond.
But it wasn't a pond. It was much bigger, more like a
small murky lake. Dark water stretched out before
me with shadows from the thick trees around it, making the
whole place feel gloomy. I found a big rotting log near
the shore, so I set down my stuff and got ready to fish.
The silence was strange. Usually when you're by water you
hear frogs, bugs, splashes, something, but here there was
nothing but stillness. I cast out my line, trying to
ignore the uneasy feeling crawling up my back.
I kept telling myself it was just my mind playing tricks.
I'd been fishing for a while and even caught a couple of small
fish when I heard something across the water.
It was a sloshing noise, like something moving around.
I squinted, trying to see better, but the tree's shadows
made it hard. And then I saw it.
Something was crouched on the other side of the pond, drinking
from the water. At first I thought it was a
deer, or maybe a bear, but it was hunched in a weird way,
almost like it had too many joints or its legs were bent
wrong. Its skin had an odd shiny look
to it, almost like fish scales, which didn't make any sense.
My heart pounded as I watched it lift its head, but it was too
far for me to make out much detail.
Just as I started convincing myself it was some regular
animal, the thing moved forward and slipped into the water
without a sound. I tried to focus on fishing
again, telling myself it was nothing, just some animal I
hadn't seen before, but every nerve in my body was on edge.
I couldn't shake the feeling that this place was wrong, I
didn't belong here. My instincts told me to leave,
but my curiosity kept me sitting there watching the water,
waiting for any sign of movement.
Just then, my fishing pole jerked harder than any fish I'd
ever caught. Before I could grab it, the pole
flew out of my hands and into the water.
I sat there, stunned, staring at the ripples spreading across the
pond, feeling a sudden deep fear.
I sat there, frozen, staring at the dark, swirling water where
my fishing pole had just disappeared.
My heart hammered in my chest and my hands felt numb.
I'd been fishing all my life, and I'd never seen anything
strong enough to pull a pole out of my hands like that.
Whatever was under that murky water wasn't normal.
I glanced around, my eyes darting between the shadows cast
by the trees. A few seconds passed, and the
pond's surface was completely still again, like nothing had
happened. But I knew better.
Something was down there, something I couldn't see,
something that wanted to be hidden.
I felt a chill creep over me, like icy fingers trailing down
my spine. I decided it was time to leave.
Maybe I was overreacting, but there was no way I was sticking
around to find out what had yanked my pole into that dark
water. My hands shook as I started
packing up, every sound making me flinch.
Even the quiet seemed different, thicker somehow, like the forest
was holding its breath. Just as I slung my backpack over
my shoulder, I heard it. A sloshing sound, soft but
unmistakable, coming from right behind me.
My whole body went stiff. I could feel my heart thumping
in my throat. Slowly, I turned around,
gripping my pocket knife even though I knew it was way too
small to protect me from whatever was out there.
And that's when I saw it. Standing just a few yards away,
dripping with water and mud, was the thing I had spotted across
the pond. But up close it was way worse.
It was bigger than I'd thought, standing on all fours with a
strange, twisted stance. Its skin was slimy and scaly, a
sickly green with patches of darker shades.
It had long, webbed fingers that ended in sharp claw like tips,
and its mouth was wrong. It was wide, stretching almost
too far across its face and filled with tiny needle like
teeth. Worst of all were its eyes,
small, black, and cold, like it was looking right through me.
The creature's neck was lined with these pulsing gills that
flared in and out, making a wet wheezing noise with each breath.
I gagged at the smell, a thick, rotting stench, like something
that had been left to decay under the sun for days.
The creature stared at me, then took a slow, deliberate step
forward. It made a low hissing noise, its
mouth curling into what looked like a sick grin.
I held my knife up, even though I knew it wouldn't do much.
My hands were trembling, but I wasn't going down without a
fight. Suddenly, it lunged.
Instinct kicked in. I swung the knife as hard as I
could, connecting with the creature's neck, hitting one of
the gills. The creature let out a high
pitched screech, stumbling back as thick black sludge oozed from
the wound. It flinched, snarling at me, and
then just as quickly as it appeared, it turned and fled,
slinking back into the pond. I didn't wait to see if it would
come back, dropping everything, I ran, crashing through the
forest, not daring to look back. By the time I got back to my
truck, I was shaking so hard I could barely get the key into
the ignition. My heart was racing, and I felt
like the thing's eyes were still watching me from somewhere deep
in the woods. I couldn't get the sight of that
creature out of my mind, its scaly, slimy skin, the wide
grinning mouth filled with sharp teeth, and the awful sloshing
sound of its gills breathing. The entire drive home I kept
checking my mirrors, half expecting to see it chasing me.
The moment I got home, I called Will.
He didn't believe me at first, who would, but there was
something in my voice that must have convinced him.
He finally agreed to meet me the next day, to go back to the pond
to see if there was any proof of what I'd seen.
As much as I wanted to avoid that place, I needed someone
else to see what I'd seen, just so I knew I wasn't losing my
mind. The next day, Will picked me up
and we drove in silence to the trail.
The closer we got, the more my stomach twisted with dread.
As we walked through the forest, it was like every noise was
louder, every shadow darker. Even Will, who usually cracked
jokes to lighten the mood, was silent, his eyes darting around
the trees. When we finally reached the
pond, everything looked exactly the same.
Still dark and quiet. But then I saw them.
The footprints, huge, webbed and clawed, leading from the water
to the very spot where I'd been sitting the day before.
I pointed them out to Will, my throat dry.
He stopped laughing. His face went pale, and he
crouched down to get a closer look.
These, these are too big for any animal.
He whispered, staring at the Prince.
I nodded, too scared to speak. The Prince were deep, like
something heavy had stepped there, and they led straight
into the water, where they disappeared into the pond's
black surface. We both stood there in silence,
staring at the water, when we heard a soft splash from
somewhere across the pond. Will and I turned at the same
time. A ripple moved across the water,
slow and eerie, like something was swimming just below the
surface. The smell hit us then, a foul,
rotten stench that made me gag. The ripple grew closer, and we
saw a shape rise just above the water.
The creature. Its head broke the surface,
those black, soulless eyes staring straight at us.
The gills on its neck pulsed, making that sick wet noise with
each breath. Will grabbed my arm.
His face filled with horror. We, we need to leave.
He whispered. I didn't need to be told twice.
We backed away slowly, keeping our eyes on the creature as it
watched us. Just as we turned to run, it let
out a low guttural growl that sent chills through my entire
body. We ran faster than I've ever run
in my life, crashing through branches, not stopping until we
were back at the truck. We never went back to that pond.