I've always lived in a small town called Willows Rest, a tiny
place surrounded by mountains and thick forests.
There isn't much to do here, so my best friend Dave and I spend
most of our time hiking. We've explored almost every
trail nearby, except for one, the Lost Canyon.
We always heard stories about it, how the local tribe, the
Chinook, considered it cursed. People say strange things happen
to anyone who goes too deep into that forest.
Most folks in town don't even talk about it.
But Dave, well, he's the kind of guy who never backs down from a
challenge. So one day he came up with the
bright idea that we should hike the Lost Canyon.
He said it like it was no big deal, like all those old stories
were just rumors to keep people out.
I didn't want to go. I had a bad feeling about it.
But Dave wouldn't take no for an answer.
Come on, he said. You've got to see it, to believe
it. And I didn't want him to go
alone, so I gave in. We started our hike early in the
morning. At first, the forest felt like
any other, quiet and peaceful, with the smell of pine and the
crunch of leaves under our boots.
But as we went deeper, I noticed something strange.
The usual sounds of birds and wind rustling through the trees
were gone completely. It was as if the forest itself
had gone silent. The only thing I could hear was
our footsteps, and the further we walked, the louder they
seemed to get. I glanced at Dave, but he didn't
seem to care. He kept talking about how cool
it was to finally see the Lost Canyon, but I couldn't shake the
feeling that we weren't alone. There was this heavy, tense
feeling in the air, like something was watching us.
I told myself I was just being paranoid, but it didn't help.
After an hour or so, I had to step off the trail to pee.
I told Dave I'd catch up and headed behind some bushes.
That's when I saw it. There was a small clearing in
the trees, and in the middle of it were these weird old wooden
totems standing in a circle. Inside the circle, the ground
was completely bare. No grass, no leaves, nothing.
Just cold, hard dirt. It was like the earth had been
scorched, but the trees around it looked untouched.
In the center of the clearing, there was a large Blackstone.
I walked closer and saw that it had strange symbols carved into
it. Symbols I didn't recognize, but
they gave me the creeps. The air around the stone felt
colder too, like standing in front of an open freezer.
A shiver ran down my spine and I quickly turned back to the
trail. When I caught up to Dave, I told
him about what I saw, but he just laughed.
You probably found some old tribal stuff, he said.
Cool, but nothing to worry about.
I wanted to believe him, but something about that place felt
wrong. Deep down I knew we shouldn't
have come here, but it was too late to turn back now.
We had already crossed into the Lost Canyon, and whatever was
waiting for us, we were walking right toward it.
The deeper we went into the Lost Canyon, the stranger everything
became. The trees started to look wrong.
Their trunks were all twisted, like they had been warped by
some kind of force. Some of the bark was blackened,
as if it had been burned a long time ago, but there wasn't any
sign of fire. I couldn't shake the feeling
that the forest was different here, like it had been tainted
somehow. It was quiet, too quiet.
I hadn't heard a single bird since we started, and there were
no signs of any animals. No squirrels, no bugs, nothing.
Dave didn't seem to care, though.
He was more excited the further we went, talking about how we'd
be the only ones to ever explore this place, but I wasn't so sure
that was a good thing. I kept feeling like something
was watching us, just out of sight.
It made my skin crawl, but every time I looked over my shoulder,
there was nothing there, Just trees, all gnarled and dark.
Do you hear that? I asked after a while.
Dave glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
Hear what? I stopped walking for a second,
listening. It was faint, but I could have
sworn I heard whispers, soft, like they were being carried by
the wind. I couldn't make out what they
were saying, but it made me uneasy.
I strained my ears, but the whispers seemed to slip in and
out, like they were coming from the trees themselves.
I don't know, just something weird.
Maybe it's nothing. Dave shrugged and kept walking,
but my heart was pounding in my chest.
I felt like we were being followed, like something or
someone was trailing us just beyond where I could see.
Every time we paused, I'd hear the faintest rustling in the
bushes. Dave didn't seem to hear it,
though. After a while, the rustling
became more frequent, louder. I kept looking over my shoulder,
expecting to see something dark between the trees, but there was
nothing. Just shadows.
We're not alone, Dave. I muttered, trying to keep the
shakiness out of my voice. Dave laughed.
Dude, it's probably just a deer or something.
Relax. But I couldn't relax.
The sound was too close, too steady.
It wasn't like an animal, it was like something was keeping pace
with us. That's when I saw it.
Just for a second, something moved between the trees ahead.
It was quick, just a blur, but I knew I saw it.
I grabbed Dave's arm, my voice low.
There, did you see that? He squinted in the direction I
pointed, but shook his head. You're getting jumpy over
nothing. The rustling grew louder again,
and this time Dave couldn't ignore it.
He finally stopped, looking around like he was starting to
get it all right. I'll check it out.
Without waiting for me, he stepped off the trail,
disappearing behind a thick patch of trees.
Dave. I called after him, but he waved
me off. A minute passed, then two.
The forest around me felt like it was holding its breath.
No sound, no movement, just dead silence.
My skin prickled as I realized how long he had been gone.
Dave. I called again, louder this
time. Still nothing.
Dave. I called out again, louder this
time, but my voice felt like it was swallowed by the forest.
Still no answer. The trees around me seemed even
darker now, the shadows longer, like they were stretching out
toward me. My stomach twisted with worry.
Dave had been gone too long. I didn't want to go after him,
but I knew I couldn't leave him behind.
My heart raced as I stepped off the trail and into the thick
brush where I had last seen him disappear.
The forest felt different here, heavier somehow, like the air
itself was thicker. The whispers I'd heard earlier
seemed to start up again, only this time they were louder,
clearer. They sent chills crawling up my
spine. Dave.
I called again, pushing through branches that seemed to claw at
me. I moved as fast as I could, but
the deeper I went, the harder it became to breathe.
Something wasn't right. The forest seemed alive, as if
it was trying to close in around me.
After what felt like forever, I found a small clearing.
My breath caught in my throat as I froze, taking in the scene in
front of me. There was blood.
A lot of blood. It was everywhere, splattered
across the trees, soaked into the ground, smeared on the
leaves. My mind went blank for a second
as I tried to process what I was seeing.
The air smelled like copper, sharp and sickening.
There were deep drag marks in the dirt, like something or
someone had been pulled through the mud.
Dave. I whispered, my voice trembling
now. I took a shaky step forward,
following the trail of blood and drag marks, though every
instinct in my body screamed at me to run.
My legs felt weak, but I had to know what happened.
Then, just beyond the trees, I saw something moving.
My heart pounded in my chest as I edged closer, staying low to
the ground. At first I thought it might be
Dave, hurt and trying to crawl back, but as I got closer, I
realized it wasn't him at all. It was a creature, and it wasn't
like anything I had ever seen before.
Standing on the other side of the ravine, it towered over the
ground, at least 8 feet tall. It had the head of a deer, a
massive, twisted skull with hollow eyes that seemed to glow
faintly in the shadows. Blood dripped from its antlers,
which were jagged and sharp like broken glass.
But its body, its body was wrong.
It was human like, but grotesquely deformed, with long,
muscular arms ending in claws and legs that bent in unnatural
ways. Patches of fur clung to its
skin, but most of it was bare, revealing twisted muscles and
bones that shouldn't have been there, and in its claws it held.
Dave. I felt like my heart stopped.
Dave's body hung limp in its grip, and his head, his head was
twisted at an impossible angle. His eyes were wide open, frozen
in terror, but there was no life in them.
The creature dropped him like he was nothing, and its hollow eyes
locked on to me. I couldn't move.
My legs were frozen, my mind screaming at me to run, but I
just stood there, staring into the eyes of the monster.
Then it moved. Its head tilted to the side as
it stepped toward me, its heavy claws dragging through the dirt,
slow and deliberate. That's when I snapped back to
reality. My body took over, and I turned
and ran as fast as I could. I ran.
I didn't think. I didn't look back, I just ran,
crashing through the trees, branches tearing at my arms and
legs. My breath came in ragged gasps,
my chest burning as I pushed myself harder than I ever had
before. All I could hear was the
pounding of my heart and the distant thudding of heavy
footsteps behind me. The creature was following me.
I could feel it gaining on me. There was no plan in my mind, no
path. I was just running in pure
terror, trying to get as far away from that thing as
possible. Every few seconds I expected to
feel its claws dig into my back, to hear that guttural growl
right behind me, but I didn't dare turn around.
If I saw it, I knew I'd freeze again, and this time I wouldn't
be so lucky. My feet slipped on the damp
ground and I nearly fell, but somehow I kept going.
The trail had to be close. I just had to make it back to
the trail. If I could find the road, I'd be
safe. That's what I told myself,
anyway. My legs burned and my lungs
screamed for air, but I couldn't stop, not yet.
Then I heard it. A deep, horrible roar echoed
through the trees, like a mix between a deer's call and a
bear's growl. It sent a jolt of fear straight
through me, but it also made me realize something.
The sound wasn't right behind me anymore.
It was further away. The creature had slowed down.
Maybe it was losing interest. Maybe I could outrun it after
all. With renewed hope, I pushed
harder, my legs pumping as fast as they could.
The forest around me started to thin, the trees less dense.
And then, through the gaps in the branches, I saw it.
The trail. Relief flooded through me.
I was almost there. I burst onto the trail, nearly
collapsing as I stumbled forward.
For a split second I allowed myself to believe I was safe,
but then, out of instinct, I glanced back toward the forest.
There it was. Standing at the edge of the
trees, just a few feet from the trail, was the creature.
It didn't chase me anymore, but it didn't leave either.
Its glowing eyes were fixed on me, watching silently.
Its deer skull head hung at a strange angle and blood still
dripped from its antlers and claws.
The thing didn't look tired at all.
I froze, locking eyes with it, my entire body trembling.
It was like it was waiting for me, almost daring me to come
back. My mind raced with 1000
questions. What was it?
How could it be real? But none of that mattered.
I knew one thing for sure, it wasn't finished with me.
I tore my gaze away and ran for the car, my legs barely holding
me up. I could see the gravel Rd. up
ahead. My car was still parked where we
left it. I fumble for my keys, my hands
shaking as I finally reached the door.
Throwing myself into the driver's seat, I jammed the key
into the ignition and floored it.
As I speed away, I couldn't help but glance in the rearview
mirror one last time. The creature was still standing
there at the edge of the forest, watching me.
It didn't follow, but I knew deep down I knew it was letting
me go. For now.
I haven't been back to the Lost Canyon since that day.
They never found Dave. I never told anyone what really
happened either. No one would believe me.
But I can't shake the feeling that it's still out there,
waiting. And sometimes, in my worst
nightmares, I see it again, standing just at the edge of the
trees, watching. I've never really been scared of
the forest. Not until recently, anyway.
My best friend Eli lives just across a patch of woods from me.
His house is on the edge of the Navajo reservation, and I've
been walking that same path since we were kids.
It's only a mile or so, and usually I don't even think twice
about it. But lately, something has felt
different. The forest wasn't always this
creepy. Sure, it's full of shadows and
strange noises, but I've grown used to it.
I know where every tree and rock is, and I've always been good at
ignoring the way the branches sometimes sway when there's no
wind. Eli's grandpa has told us
stories about the skinwalkers, monsters that can take the form
of animals or people, but I never took them seriously.
Just legends, right? They were interesting when I was
younger, but now they're just that, stories.
But tonight, as I walked home from Ely's, the forest felt
different. I'd stayed too late at his
house, playing video games, and by the time I left, the sun was
already sinking behind the hills.
The sky had turned a deep orange, and shadows stretched
across the path in front of me. I tried to shake off the
uneasiness as I entered the woods.
I could do this walk with my eyes closed. 10 steps in.
The familiar chill of the forest crept up my spine.
The trees seemed taller, closer together than I remembered.
The sounds of birds and crickets faded, leaving the air heavy and
quiet. The silence was so thick I could
hear my own breathing, loud and shaky.
I told myself it was just in my head, that I was being silly.
But then I heard it snap, a twig breaking not far from me.
I froze. I knew that sound, but it wasn't
the harmless kind like when a squirrel jumps on a branch.
It was the sharp, sudden crack that screamed You're not alone.
My heart started pounding in my chest.
I swallowed hard, feeling my throat go dry.
Hello. I whispered, my voice shaky and
uncertain. I don't even know why I said
anything. The second the word left my
mouth, I wished I hadn't. Then something worse happened.
From somewhere in the trees, the same word came back to me.
Hello. It sounded like me, but not
quite right. The voice was hollow, like it
was coming from far away, but I knew it wasn't.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, my breath came in
short gasps, and my legs felt like they were glued to the
ground. I forced myself to speak again,
louder this time. Stop it.
Silence. For a long, terrifying moment,
nothing happened. No wind, no bugs, no movement.
Just me, standing there, heart racing.
And then I heard it again, echoing from the trees.
Stop it. My voice, but not mine.
My heart hammered in my chest. I wanted to run, but I couldn't
move. I stood frozen in the middle of
the path, staring into the shadows, waiting for something
to step out. Something that wasn't human.
Suddenly, the bushes to my left rustled.
I whipped my head toward the sound just in time to see
something massive, something with antlers pushing through the
trees. That's when I ran.
I barely made it through the front door before slamming it
shut, leaning against it like I was holding back something from
breaking in. My heart was still pounding, and
I couldn't shake the image of those antlers, that twisted
thing in the forest. I tried to catch my breath, but
it felt like the air in the house was as thick as it had
been in the woods. Mom was in the kitchen, humming
to herself. She poked her head around the
corner. Everything OK, Sam?
I forced a smile and nodded, my hands trembling.
Yeah, I'm just tired. She gave me a funny look but
didn't press me. I was thankful for that.
There was no way I could tell her what had happened, no way
she'd believe me. I didn't even believe me.
I rushed up to my room and locked the door behind me, my
mind spinning. What did I just see What was out
there? I grabbed my phone and called
Eli. He picked up on the second ring.
Hey, what's up? I blurted it out.
The whole story, how the forest went quiet, the snapping branch,
the voice that mimicked mine, and the creature with the
antlers. Eli listened without
interrupting, but when I was done, the line went silent.
Eli, you there, Sam? He said, his voice low.
Whatever you do tonight, don't answer it.
My stomach dropped. Don't answer what?
He paused. If you hear anything, your name,
a knock, anything, just don't answer.
I have to talk to my grandpa. I'll explain everything
tomorrow. What are you talking about, Eli?
What's going on? But he wouldn't say any more.
He just told me to keep my doors and windows locked and hung up.
I sat on my bed, gripping my phone, trying to make sense of
what he said. I didn't believe in all those
old legends, but the fear in his voice was enough to make me
uneasy. That night I couldn't sleep.
Every little creak of the house or rustle of wind outside made
my heart jump. The minutes dragged by and just
when I started to think maybe it was all in my head, I heard it.
A soft, slow tapping on my window.
Tap, tap, tap. I froze, my blood turning to
ice. My window was on the 2nd floor,
there was no way anyone could reach it.
I pulled the covers up to my chin, my whole body shaking.
Maybe it was just a tree branch. It had to be.
Then I heard it. My name.
It was a whisper, barely loud enough to hear, but I knew that
voice. It was mine, my own voice
calling from outside the window. My heart slammed against my
ribs. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying
to block it out, but it came again, louder.
Come here. I bit my lip, my mind racing.
Eli's warning echoed in my head. Don't answer it.
I stayed completely still, not daring to make a sound.
The voice continued, growing more insistent.
Samantha, come outside. Open the door.
It wasn't going to stop, and all I could do was pray for the
sunrise the next morning. I barely felt human.
I had spent the entire night huddled under my blankets, my
heart pounding with every whisper, every tap on the
window. By the time the first light of
dawn filtered through my curtains, the voice had stopped.
But the silence that followed was almost worse.
It was like the creature was still there, just waiting for
night to fall again. I didn't tell my mom what
happened. She'd think I was going crazy.
Maybe I was. Instead, I called Eli as soon as
I woke up. His voice sounded as tired as
mine. Did you hear it?
I asked, my voice shaky. Yeah, he said.
I talked to my grandpa this morning.
He said it's a skinwalker. They can take the form of
animals or people, and once they know you, they don't stop.
It knows you now, Sam. It knows your voice.
A chill ran down my spine. What does that mean?
What do I do? Eli paused.
You need to stay inside at night.
Keep the doors and windows locked.
Don't let it in, no matter what. And whatever you do, don't
answer it. Once it gets in, it'll never
leave. My heart sank.
The fear that had been swirling inside me since last night
became a solid weight in my chest.
I couldn't live like this, jumping at every sound,
terrified of my own shadow. But I didn't know what else to
do. The rest of the day passed in a
haze. I went through the motions,
eating breakfast, pretending to listen to my mom, but my mind
was elsewhere. I kept thinking about the
forest, the mimicry, and Eli's warning.
Every time I passed a window, I caught myself checking outside,
expecting to see the thing standing there watching me.
That night, I did everything Eli said.
I locked every door, made sure every window was closed, and
turned off all the lights. My room was pitch black, but I
didn't care if I couldn't see it, maybe it couldn't see me.
I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up tight, trying to
calm the rising panic in my chest.
Hours passed and nothing happened.
The house was quiet, and for a brief moment I thought maybe it
was over, that the creature had lost interest.
Then, just as I started to drift off, the tapping started again.
Tap, tap, tap. My heart dropped.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying it would stop, but the sound
grew louder. It wasn't just at the window,
now I heard it at the door. Then my name.
Samantha. It was soft, almost like a
question, the sound of my own voice but twisted wrong.
Samantha let me in. I covered my ears, but it didn't
stop. It just kept calling over and
over, getting louder with each passing 2nd.
I felt like I was suffocating. My own name repeated back at me,
mocking me. Finally, I snapped.
Go away. I screamed, throwing the blanket
off me. For a moment there was silence,
then the voice returned. But this time it wasn't mine.
It was my mom's. Samantha opened the door.
Honey. My blood turned to ice.
The voice outside my door, my mother's voice, sent a wave of
cold terror through me. I knew it wasn't really her, It
couldn't be. She was asleep in her room down
the hall. But hearing her voice calling to
me in the middle of the night, coaxing, made me doubt
everything. Samantha, honey, open the door,
I need you. My heart pounded in my ears.
I knew what Eli had told me. Don't answer, don't let it in.
But the way it spoke, the way it mimicked her perfectly, made me
hesitate. What if something had happened
to her? What if she needed help?
I stood in the middle of my room, frozen, my mind spinning.
My hand drifted toward the door handle, but I stopped myself
just in time. This wasn't real.
This wasn't my mom. I had to remember that.
I backed away, sitting on the edge of my bed, my legs
trembling. Then the voice came again, more
desperate. Please, Samantha, it's dark out
here. I need you.
I clenched my fists, trying to drown out the sound.
My whole body shook with fear and I felt like I was losing my
grip on reality. It knew exactly how to get to
me, how to use the voice of someone I love to break me down.
Suddenly the voice shifted, it wasn't my mom anymore, it was
Eli. Samantha, it's me, please let me
in, I need your help. My chest tightened.
Eli's voice sounded scared, like he was in trouble.
The fear in his tone made my heart race, but deep down I knew
it wasn't him. It was the skinwalker playing
its sick game, trying to trick me.
I can't. I shouted, my voice cracking.
You're not real. Go away.
The tapping on the door stopped. For a brief moment I thought
maybe it had worked, that maybe the creature had finally given
up. But then the voice came again,
this time softer, more insidious.
Open the door, Samantha, you know you want to just open the
door. I felt my resolve slipping.
My whole body was tense, my fingers trembling as I stared at
the door. The whispers clawed at my mind,
relentless. Part of me wanted to give in, to
stop fighting. It was exhausting, and I didn't
know how much longer I could hold on.
Then I remembered what Eli had said.
Once it gets in, it'll never leave.
I couldn't let that happen. If I open the door, it would be
over. I'd be giving up everything.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stand up.
My legs felt like Jelly, but I moved toward the door,
determined. I'm not opening it, I whispered,
though my voice shook with fear. You're not real.
Silence. The air around me felt heavy,
like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for
me to break. But I didn't.
I stayed strong, even though every muscle in my body screamed
for me to run. Then the creature spoke again,
in a voice that sent shivers down my spine.
Fine, it said in my voice. I'll be back tomorrow.
And then everything went quiet. The next morning, I barely
managed to drag myself out of bed.
Every muscle in my body ached from tension, and my mind felt
like it had been through a blender.
But even though the night was behind me, I couldn't shake the
feeling that I wasn't safe. The creature's last words echoed
in my head over and over again. I'll be back tomorrow.
I knew I couldn't stay here another night.
Whatever this thing was, it wasn't going to stop until it
got to me. Eli's warning had been clear,
but now I needed more than just a locked door and hope.
I called him the second my mom left for work.
We need to do something. I whispered, pacing back and
forth in the kitchen. It's not going to stop Eli.
It's getting stronger. I I can't do this alone anymore.
Eli sounded. Grim, my grandpa can help, but
you need to come here now, it's too dangerous to stay in your
house. The thought of going back
through the woods made my stomach twist with fear.
But staying here waiting for the thing to come back tonight felt
even worse. I had no choice I grabbed my
jacket and threw on my shoes, not even bothering to eat
breakfast. The.
Sooner I got. To Eli's house, the better.
The walk to Eli's usually only took about 20 minutes, but this
time, every second felt like an eternity.
The sky was overcast, casting a grey, muted light over
everything. The trees along the path swayed
with a low wind, their shadows stretching like claws across the
dirt Rd. I kept my head down, refusing to
look too deeply into the trees. Every rustle, every whisper of
the wind sent my heart racing. I couldn't shake the feeling
that something was watching me, lurking just out of sight,
waiting for the right moment to strike.
Halfway to Eli's, the air grew unnaturally cold.
The familiar weight of dread settled over me like a heavy
blanket. I knew what was coming before I
heard it. Tap, tap, tap.
What? That horrible sound again, Only
this time it wasn't at my window.
It was behind me. I turned, my heart slamming into
my ribs. Standing at the edge of the
forest was the creature. Its twisted, antlered body
loomed out of the shadows, its eyes locked on to mine.
But now, in the daylight, it looked even more horrifying, its
body bent and wrong, as if the skin barely clung to its bones.
Its eyes were black voids, sucking the light out of the air
around them. Samantha, It hissed, its voice a
mix of mine, Eli's, and my mother's, all blended together
in a grotesque chorus. My legs felt like they were made
of lead, but somehow I turned and ran.
The trees blurred around me as I sprinted faster than I thought
possible, my feet pounding the dirt.
I could hear it behind me, the heavy, unnatural thumping of its
limbs hitting the ground, chasing me.
I ran faster, the sound growing closer with each second.
My lungs burned and panic clawed at my throat, but I refused to
stop. Eli's house was just ahead, the
red roof barely visible through the trees.
If I could just make it there, I'd be safe.
But the creature was faster. Just as I reached the clearing,
something cold and sharp grabbed my ankle.
I screamed as I was pulled to the ground, my hands clawing at
the dirt as it dragged me backward, closer to the forest's
edge. The creature's voice filled my
ears, louder and more insistent now.
Samantha let me in, let me in. I kicked wildly, fighting to
break free, but it's grip tightened.
It's cold, skeletal fingers wrapped around my leg, pulling
me closer and closer to the dark, twisted trees.
And then, suddenly, Eli was there.
He grabbed my arms, pulling me up with all his strength.
Get up, we have to go. His voice was frantic, his eyes
wide with fear. With one final, desperate tug,
Eli yanked me free from the creature's grip, and we stumbled
toward his house. Behind us, the creature let out
a shriek so loud it pierced the air, like the sound of 1000
voices screaming in pain. We bolted through the door and
slammed it shut behind us. Eli's grandfather was already
there, waiting. He didn't say a word, just
nodded and began chanting in Navajo, spreading a thick,
smoldering herb around the room. The smell was strong, earthy,
and for the first time in days, I felt a small flicker of hope.
Eli and I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath as his
grandfather continued the ritual.
The creature's shrieks echoed from outside, but it didn't come
any closer. The house was protected, at
least for now. I didn't know how long the
ritual lasted, or how much time passed, but when it was finally
over, the world outside had grown quiet again.
Eli's grandfather sat down beside us, his face tired but
calm. The skin Walker will keep
searching for you. He said quietly.
But as long as you stay close to us, it can't harm you.
You'll be safe here. I nodded, tears of relief
welling up in my eyes. I wasn't sure what the future
held, but for now, I had survived.
I had escaped. And that was.
Enough the wind. Outside had dropped to nothing.
That kind of dead silence in the forest always unsettled me,
though I'd never say it out loud.
Claire would laugh. Call me paranoid, but there's
something about the quiet that makes the world feel too still,
too watchful, like it's waiting for something to happen.
I was alone in the. Den sitting in my worn out
recliner, bathed in the dim blue glow of the TV.
Claire had turned in hours ago, tired from her early morning
shift at the clinic. The dogs, Duke and Scout, were
with her. Usually they'd be out here with
me, but for some reason they stuck to her side to night,
curling up at the foot of our bed.
The house had settled into its familiar night time rhythm, the
faint hum of the refrigerator, the occasional Creek of
floorboards as the old cabin shifted on its foundation.
Out here, deep in the forest, the isolation never bothered me.
In fact, I liked it. No neighbors for miles, just the
trees, the wildlife, and a sky full of stars.
It gave us room to breathe. That's why when I heard the
scratching noise, I didn't think much of it at first.
I figured it was one of the dogs, maybe Duke, pawing at the
back door, asking to be let out. But the scratching continued,
slow and deliberate. My attention shifted from the
TV, my ears tuning in, tracking the sound.
I muted the TV and listened. The scratching came again, faint
but unmistakable. My gut tightened, but I told
myself it was nothing. Probably Duke wanting to chase
some nocturnal critter he caught a whiff of.
Still, the dogs were unusually quiet tonight.
Normally, they'd have been barking their heads off at
anything that came near the house.
Pushing up from the recliner, I padded down the hall, the wooden
floor cold beneath my bare feet. As I passed the bedroom, I
glanced in just to check on Claire.
She was curled up under the blankets, her soft breathing the
only sound in the room. But the dogs?
They were awake, both of them sitting up and staring at the
open bedroom door. I stopped in my.
Tracks. Duke and Scout weren't barking.
They weren't even moving, just staring.
Their ears pricked, their bodies unnaturally still.
A chill ran down my spine. Something was off.
These weren't guard dogs, not in the traditional sense, but they
always reacted to anything out of place.
Duke. I whispered.
His head snapped toward me, but he didn't wag his tail, didn't
get up, just stared at me with wide, dark eyes.
I glanced at Scout. Same thing.
Their gaze drifted back to the doorway, as if they were waiting
for something to appear. I shook off the unease crawling
up my back and moved toward the mud room, where the scratching
was louder now, more insistent. The.
Frosted. Glass of the dog door was hazy
in the dim light, but through it I saw a shadow.
It was crouched low, too big to be Duke or Scout, and it wasn't
moving like a dog either. The shadow shifted, and for the
first time, a sense of real fear crept in.
I reached for the back door handle, my hand shaking.
I swung the door open. Nothing.
Just the empty dark of the night, the faint rustle of
leaves in the breeze. But I knew something had been
there. I could feel it, like the air
had just changed around me. I couldn't shake the feeling
that something was wrong, really wrong.
It stayed with me, crawling under my skin long after I had
closed the door. The shadow had been there, I
knew it. I wasn't imagining things.
But now, standing alone in the mud room, staring out at the
dark woods, I couldn't convince myself it had been just an
animal. I made my way back to the
bedroom, the floor creaking under my feet, but everything
sounded louder in the silence. The.
Dogs hadn't. Moved from their spot, still
sitting there, still staring at the open doorway.
But now they looked tense, their hackles raised slightly, their
ears twitching with every sound. Duke Scout.
I called, but they didn't turn this time.
Whatever had them spooked, it was still out there, and they
knew it. I crawled into bed next to
Claire, who hadn't stirred once through all of this.
How she could sleep so soundly in this kind of quiet always
amazed me. I turned off the lamp and lay
there, my heart still thudding from the strange encounter at
the door. I tried to reason it out.
It could have been anything, a raccoon, maybe even a stray dog
passing through. But then why had it felt so
wrong? I pulled the blankets tighter
around me, trying to settle the uneasy knot in my stomach, but
sleep didn't come. My eyes flicked to the doorway,
then to the window. Everything outside was still,
the night pressing in too close. And then I heard it.
A sound I'd never forget. Slow, heavy breathing coming
from the hallway. It wasn't the dogs.
It was too deep, too deliberate, as if whatever was out there had
followed me inside. I held my breath, listening.
The. Dogs had gone.
Completely silent, not even a whimper.
It was as if they were too afraid to make a sound.
The breathing grew louder, closer, and I could almost feel
the presence standing just outside the bedroom door.
My heart pounded so hard I thought Claire might wake up
just from feeling it against the mattress.
I slowly reached for the lamp again, my hand trembling.
I told myself that it was nothing, just my imagination
running wild after seeing the shadow earlier.
But deep down, I knew it wasn't click.
The room flooded with light. I froze.
Standing in the hallway, half shrouded by the shadows, was the
figure. It was hunched, just like
before, but now I could see its face, if you could call it that.
Its skin was pulled tight over its skull, and its mouth was
twisted into a grotesque grin, teeth too long and sharp.
But what froze me were the eyes. They were wrong, too human.
For a long moment it just stared at me, its mouth twitching as if
it were trying to smile or speak.
I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
Then suddenly, it jerked backward, moving in a way no
living thing should. It scrambled down the hall, its
limbs making sickening, cracking sounds as it bolted on all
fours. I shot out of bed, yelling,
fumbling for the baseball bat under the bed.
But by the time I reached the doorway, the thing was gone.
The back door swung open, slapping against the frame in
the cold night air. The dogs were whimpering,
cowering in the corner, refusing to even look at the doorway.
I stood there, bat in hand, staring into the night, my skin
crawling with the realization that whatever it was, it had
been inside the house and it had been watching us.
The next morning. The house felt colder, emptier.
Claire noticed it too. She kept commenting on how off
everything seemed, but I didn't have the nerve to tell her what
really happened. She knew something wasn't right,
but she chalked it up to my restlessness keeping her awake
half the night. Maybe I should have let her
believe that. After a long.
Silent breakfast I went out to check around the property just
to settle my nerves the. Dogs followed.
Though Duke stayed closer to the cabin than usual, his nose
constantly in the air. Scout, normally bold, was
skittish, trotting ahead and doubling back like he couldn't
stand being alone for even a few seconds.
The claw marks were the first thing I noticed.
They were deep, gouging long streaks into the wood of the
back door. I crouched down to inspect them,
running my fingers over the rough edges.
They were fresh, too fresh, and whatever made them had claws
bigger than anything I'd seen in these woods.
No animal I knew left marks like that.
I swallowed hard and stood up, scanning the tree line for any
movement. But everything was still.
Too still, the normal sounds of birds and rustling leaves were
absent the. Forest.
Felt wrong. Claire came outside a few
minutes later, asking what I was up to.
I told her it was just some animal scratching at the door.
She shrugged it off, figuring it was a raccoon or a bear, but I
saw the way she looked at the marks.
There was doubt in her eyes. I spent the rest of the day
trying to focus on anything else.
Chores around the cabin, splitting firewood, cleaning the
shed. But that feeling stayed with me,
the sense of being watched. Every so often I'd stop what I
was doing and glance over my shoulder, half expecting to see
that figure standing just inside the tree line, those dead eyes
staring back at me. But it never showed.
By the time night fell, my nerves were frayed.
I locked every door, checked every window twice, maybe 3
times. The dogs wouldn't leave my side,
their noses constantly sniffing the air like they were tracking
something I couldn't see. Claire gave me an odd look when
I suggested we leave the outdoor lights on overnight.
It wasn't like me to worry about things like that, but I couldn't
shake the feeling I needed to see what was out there.
I went to bed with the shotgun next to the night stand.
Claire didn't say anything about it, but she noticed we lay.
In. Silence, neither of us sleeping,
listening to the sounds or the lack of them.
Outside. Around 2, AMI heard it again,
the breathing. I sat up, heart racing, every
muscle tensed. Claire stirred beside me,
sensing the tension, but she didn't wake.
I strained to listen, trying to pinpoint the sound.
It wasn't outside this time. It was closer, too close.
I reached for the shotgun, gripping it tight.
The dogs were whimpering again, huddled against the door,
refusing to move. I could hear the breathing now,
slow and steady, coming from just beyond the window.
I couldn't bring myself to look. Instead, I just sat there,
gripping the shotgun, waiting for whatever was out there to
make the first move. I hadn't slept.
I couldn't. The breathing outside the window
never stopped, not until dawn broke over the mountains and
bathed the cabin in its pale light.
By then the noise had faded, but the tension remained.
I stayed up, shotguns still clutched in my hands, scanning
every shadow that stretched along the floor, half expecting
that thing to burst through the door any second.
Claire found me sitting there, eyes red, rimmed the gun in my
lap. When she woke up, she didn't say
anything, just gave me that worried look, the one that said
more than words ever could. I knew she thought I was losing
it, hell, maybe I was, but I couldn't ignore it any more.
I wasn't imagining things. This wasn't just some animal
creeping around in the woods. It was something else, something
worse. I could see it in the dog's
eyes, the way they trembled, how they wouldn't leave my side, and
how they refused to even glance at the window.
After breakfast, I stepped outside again, shotgun slung
over my shoulder. The sky was clear, the air
still, but that unnatural silence was back.
No birds, no rustling leaves. Just a dead quiet stillness, as
if the forest itself was holding its breath.
I scanned the perimeter of the property, my eyes drawn again
and again to the tree line. Every so often I thought I saw
something moving just beyond the edge of the woods, but whenever
I looked directly at it, it was gone.
And then I heard it. Faint, barely noticeable at
first, but unmistakable scratching.
Not at the door this time, but somewhere deeper in the trees,
as if it was taunting me, daring me to come closer.
I loaded the shotgun, the click of the rounds sliding into place
somehow comforting, even though I wasn't sure it'd do me any
good against whatever this thing was.
I wasn't hunting now. I was confronting it.
As I made my way toward the sound, the trees seemed to close
in around me, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms.
The air grew colder, a biting chill that prickled the back of
my neck. Every instinct screamed for me
to turn back, but I kept going, drawn forward by a mix of anger
and fear. And then I saw it.
It was standing just inside the tree line, half hidden in the
shadows. The same hunched.
Figure, it's twisted form bent in unnatural angles.
It's face, a grotesque mix of human and animal, was clearer in
the daylight, though it still seemed to blur and distort the
longer I looked at it. Its eyes locked onto mine,
hollow and dead, but filled with some kind of cruel intelligence.
I raised the. Shotgun hands shaking.
Get the hell away from my house. The creature let out a low,
guttural growl, its mouth twisting into that horrific
grin. And then, in one fluid motion,
it bolted, faster than anything I'd ever seen.
I fired, the shot echoing through the trees, but it was
already gone, disappearing into the depths of the forest as if
it had never been there at all. I stood there for a long time,
my heart racing, the shotgun still aimed at the empty woods.
I knew it wasn't over. It would come back and next time
I wasn't sure if I'd be ready. It was one of those.
Mornings where everything felt sharp and alive.
The kind of morning that made me feel like the world was as it
should be, where the air tasted clean and crisp and my mind was
finally starting to clear. I needed this.
I'd been craving it for weeks. A hike out on Devil's Ridge,
just me in the mountains. I woke early through my gear
into the truck and started driving before the sun had fully
broken the horizon. Devil's Ridge was three hours
from home, far enough away that it felt like a different world,
and that's exactly what I was looking for.
The last thing I needed was to think about my ex-girlfriend or
the job I hated out here. There was none of that, just
pine trees, fresh air and solitude.
The drive took me. Through winding back roads, each
one quieter and more remote than the last.
The town had faded in my rear view mirror an hour ago, and now
it was just endless stretches of forest, tall Pines lining the
road like Sentinels. I didn't mind the isolation.
I never had. In fact, I looked forward to it
too. Many people.
Never seemed to realize how loud life was until they got out here
into the middle of nowhere. That's when the silence hit
them, when it closed in like a blanket for.
Me. The quiet was a relief.
When I pulled up to the trailhead, there was only one
other car there, an old beat up sedan, it's paint peeling in
spots. I checked my watch 6:30 AM,
early enough that I wouldn't run into anyone else on the trail
for hours, maybe all day if I was lucky.
I scanned the. Area half expecting to see
someone else getting ready to head out, but there was nothing,
just the car and the trees standing tall in the morning
light. I got out of the.
Truck shouldered my pack and glanced up at Devil's Ridge.
The mountain loomed in the distance, jagged and quiet,
bathed in the early morning sun. This was my kind of place.
Rough, wild, and untouched. A challenge.
The kind of hike where you didn't have to share the trail
with the Instagram crowd. Out here, it was just you and
whatever the mountain decided to throw at you.
I started up the trail at a steady pace, taking in the crisp
smell of pine and the crunch of dirt beneath my boots.
Birds flitted from tree to tree, and every so often I'd hear the
snap of a branch, probably a deer or a fox, moving through
the underbrush. It was peaceful, too peaceful,
maybe the kind of quiet where your mind started to play tricks
on you, filling the space with things that weren't really
there. I pushed those thoughts aside,
focusing instead on the trail ahead.
My legs fell into a rhythm, each step carrying me further into
the wilderness. I stopped a few times to take
photos, the landscape too beautiful to ignore.
Towering trees framed the distant peaks, and the sun cast
long shadows across the path. But as I climbed higher,
something shifted. The air felt colder, and the
birds that had been singing only moments ago seemed to disappear.
I slowed, scanning the forest around me.
The trail stretched out ahead, but the silence had deepened.
No wind, no rustling leaves, just nothing.
I told myself it was normal, that nature had its own quiet
moments, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something
wasn't right. The mountain was watching,
waiting. The descent started easy enough.
Sunlight still filtered through the treetops, casting long
shadows across the trail as I made my way down.
I felt good. Sweaty, sure, but the kind of
tired that comes from doing something that matters to you.
My mind was clearer than it had been in weeks, but as the trees
thickened, the light began to fade faster than I expected.
I glanced at my watch, surprised to see how quickly time had
slipped away. The sun had started to sink
behind the Ridge, and with it, any sense of warmth disappeared.
I picked up my pace, knowing I had miles to go before I hit the
parking lot. I'd done plenty of hikes that
ended in the dark, and I wasn't too concerned.
Not yet. But the further I went, the
quieter it got. The birds that had been chirping
and flitting through the trees earlier had vanished, leaving
behind an odd stillness. The kind of stillness you feel
in your gut more than you hear. I told myself it was just
evening settling in. Nature's bedtime, right?
But I couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going
on. Then I felt it.
That prickling sensation, the one that crawls up the back of
your neck when you know someone or something is watching you.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart pounding in my ears.
I scanned the trees, looking for movement, but all I saw were
shadows, stretching longer as the light faded.
My breath was coming faster, my instincts screaming at me to
keep moving. But every time I glanced back,
the trail was empty. Still, that feeling wouldn't
leave. I started walking again, this
time faster, practically power hiking down the trail.
Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a branch made me jump.
And the footsteps, they started faint, so distant I almost
convinced myself they weren't there at all.
But as I kept moving, they grew louder, keeping pace with me,
too far back to see anything when I looked over my shoulder,
but close enough that I could hear them.
Footfalls matching mine. I told myself it had to be
another hiker, maybe the person who'd left the car at the
trailhead. But why would anyone be this far
out now, at dusk? No one else had been on this
trail all day. It didn't make sense.
The feeling of being watched got worse.
I could feel eyes on me, following me with every step.
I whistled a tune, anything to distract myself from the growing
tension in the pit of my stomach, but the sound seemed to
fall flat, swallowed up by the thickening shadows.
I quickened my pace again, glancing over my shoulder every
few seconds, expecting to see someone.
But there was nothing, no one, just that damned feeling.
I kept moving, pushing harder, the forest closing in around me
as night took hold. That's when I heard it.
The footsteps weren't just matching mine anymore, they were
getting closer, a lot closer. I glanced behind me again,
expecting to see a person, but what I saw, it wasn't human.
It wasn't even close. It was standing just at the edge
of the trees, eyes glowing like something out of a nightmare.
I didn't think, just ran. My legs kicked into OverDrive,
tearing down the trail like a madman, each breath a ragged
gasp. Whatever was behind me, it
wasn't human, that much was clear.
I could still see those eyes, glowing like green embers in the
dusk, burned into my mind. My heart hammered in my chest,
my throat dry and tight as I pushed myself harder than I ever
had before. The footsteps behind me were
faster now, no longer subtle or distant.
They pounded the earth, closing the gap between us with each
step I took. I was out of options, out of
time. I needed to move, or I was dead.
Branches whipped at my face as I tore through the trail, barely
able to see in the fading light. The air was thick, the trees
towering like Sentinels on either side, trapping me on this
narrow strip of dirt. I risked a glance over my
shoulder, hoping, praying it was just some hallucination or maybe
a trick of the fading light, but what I saw almost made me stop
dead. The thing wasn't a deer anymore.
It was standing on two legs, towering well over 7 feet tall,
its long, skeletal arms swaying unnaturally as it moved.
Its skin hung in tatters, patches of matted fur mixed with
sickly Gray flesh. Its face was something out of a
nightmare, hollow sockets where eyes should have been and a
mouth that was too wide, filled with teeth like shards of broken
glass. The glowing eyes I'd seen
earlier were gone, replaced by two black pits that seemed to
swallow the light around them. And it was fast.
Too fast. I whipped my head forward,
focusing on the trail ahead, my mind racing.
What the hell was this thing? A bear?
A freak of nature? No, nothing natural looked like
that. This was something else,
something old, something wrong. It screamed again, that awful
gut wrenching sound. Half human, half animal.
It sliced through the trees, echoing in the dark, sending
fresh adrenaline surging through me.
I pushed harder, legs burning, lungs on fire, but no matter how
fast I went, it was gaining on me.
I could hear its footsteps getting louder, closer, until I
could practically feel its breath on the back of my neck.
Then it swung. I felt the sharp, hot sting as
claws raked across my shoulder, tearing through my jacket and
into my skin. The pain was instant, blinding.
I stumbled, nearly falling, but somehow managed to keep my feet
moving. My right arm hung limp, blood
dripping down my side, each step sending fresh waves of pain
through my body. I couldn't stop, not now.
If I did, I was dead. Ahead, the trail narrowed
sharply, dropping off into a steep slope.
My only option was to run straight toward it.
No time to think, no time to plan.
I leaned into the fall, praying the slope wasn't as steep as it
looked. I hit the ground hard, tumbling
head over heels. Rocks and branches slammed into
me as I rolled down the embankment, smashing against
trees, dirt, anything in my path.
Pain radiated through every part of my body, but I didn't care.
I had to keep moving. When I finally came to a stop, I
was lying in a heap at the base of a tree.
My ankle was twisted, maybe broken.
Blood soaked my jacket. The thing's.
Footsteps were still up there somewhere in the dark, searching
for me, and I knew it would find me soon.
The world was spinning and my body felt like it had been
through a meat grinder. Every breath was agony, my ankle
a pulsing fire, but I couldn't stop now.
I could hear it above me, pacing the Ridge like a predator
stalking its wounded prey. It's guttural breathing echoed
through the trees, closer than I'd hoped.
Too close. I forced myself to sit up,
wincing as I gingerly touched the torn skin on my shoulder.
Blood soaked my jacket, but that wasn't what worried me.
What worried me was that sound. The thing's ragged breaths, deep
and deliberate, as if it was savouring this moment.
I needed to. Hide or fight something.
My pack had spilled when I fell, my flashlight gone, leaving me
half blind in the thickening darkness.
But my hand grazed something solid, the knife I always kept
on me, its grip cold and reassuring.
I clung to it like a lifeline. Not much, but better than
nothing. The creature was still there,
prowling along the Ridge above, and I knew I didn't have long
before it found its way down. I glanced around, desperate.
There, a Bush thick enough to hide me, if only for a few
minutes. I dragged myself over my ankle,
screaming in protest, and threw myself into the tangled
branches. I pulled the leaves around me,
trying to steady my breath, gripping the knife so tightly my
knuckles ached. The thing was close now.
I could hear the crunch of its feet as it descended, slow,
deliberate, the snapping of branches under its weight.
My heartbeat matched the rhythm of its steps, each one louder,
more insistent. I bit my lip hard enough to draw
blood, fighting the panic that was threatening to overtake me.
I couldn't afford to break down, not now.
I waited, holding my breath as the creature's movement slowed.
It was just a few feet away, its hulking form casting long
shadows as it sniffed the air. I caught a glimpse of its
twisted figure through the leaves, those long, Bony arms,
That face, or lack of one, The thing that had once been a deer,
now looked like something that had crawled out of the deepest
pits of hell, its hollow eyes scanning the area, searching.
And then it stopped. I could hear its breaths, ragged
and low, right beside me. It had found me.
Without thinking, I exploded out of the Bush, knife in hand,
slashing wildly. The blade connected with
something solid, a sickening crunch followed by an ear
splitting scream. Inhuman, guttural, like the
death wail of something that should have never been alive.
I drove the knife deeper into its skull, the blade sinking
through flesh and bone until my hand was slick with blood, warm
and thick, running down my arm. The creature thrashed,
collapsing to the ground in front of me.
Its body convulsed violently, limbs jerking as if trying to
pull itself back up, but I didn't let go.
I kept pushing, stabbing until its movement slowed, until it
was still. I collapsed next to it, my chest
heaving, body trembling from exhaustion and pain.
The forest was silent again, no more footsteps, no more
breathing, just silence. The relief that washed over me
was almost enough to make me cry, but I didn't.
I couldn't, not yet. I lay there, next to the
creatures lifeless body, staring at the sky, waiting for it to
move again, half expecting it to rise and finish what it started.
When the sun began to rise, its warmth cutting through the cool
air, I realized I had made it somehow.
I forced myself to stand, my body screaming in protest, and
stumbled back toward the trail. The creature was gone, its body,
my knife, all of it. Only a trail of blood LED back
into the woods, disappearing into the thick shadows.
I wasn't going to wait around. I limped as fast as I could, the
haunting scream still echoing in my head, knowing that whatever
it was, it wasn't finished with me yet, and I wasn't sure I'd
survive another night with it. I limped down the trail, every
step sending a bolt of pain through my twisted ankle and
torn shoulder. The sun was creeping higher now,
it's light cutting through the trees, but it did little to warm
me. I was cold, colder than I should
have been, and my hands shook uncontrollably.
The trail stretched endlessly ahead like some kind of cruel
joke, each bend leading only to more trees, more silence.
It was like the woods themselves were conspiring to keep me here.
The creatures scream still echoed in my mind, even though I
had left its convulsing body behind.
I couldn't shake the feeling. It was still watching me, still
hunting me. Every rustle of leaves, every
snap of a branch made me jump, made my heart race in my chest.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see
those glowing eyes again, that twisted face lurking just beyond
the shadows. But there was nothing.
Just me in the woods, and the growing sense that I wasn't
really alone. I wasn't running anymore.
I couldn't. My body was too beaten up, my
mind too frayed. All I could do was stumble
forward, one agonizing step at a time.
The blood had dried on my jacket, but the wound on my
shoulder throbbed and my ankle felt like it was being stabbed
with every step. But I couldn't stop.
I had to keep moving. Stopping meant thinking, and
thinking meant remembering. Remembering that thing, how it
had chased me down, how it had almost taken me apart, piece by
piece. Somehow, I made it back to the
trailhead where my truck sat waiting.
The sight of it, old and familiar, was almost enough to
bring me to my knees. I'd never been so relieved to
see anything in my life. I fumble with the keys, my
fingers trembling too much to work right, but after what felt
like an eternity, I got the door open and threw myself inside.
I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it instinctively,
like that thin sheet of metal and glass would keep out
whatever was out there. But right now, it was all I had.
The engine roared to life and I floored it, the tires spitting
gravel as I tore down the dirt Rd.
I didn't look back. I couldn't.
I couldn't bear to see if something was standing in the
shadows at the edge of the woods, watching me go.
I just drove, hands clenched tight on the wheel as the forest
disappeared behind me. My heart was still racing, and
my breaths came shallow and ragged, but I kept driving, kept
putting miles between me and that cursed mountain.
An hour passed, maybe more, before I even dared to breathe
normally again. The sun was high in the sky now,
and the trees were thinning, the road leading me back to
civilization, but the feeling didn't leave me.
That thing, the way it had changed, the way it had stalked
me, none of it felt real, but it was.
I could still feel the weight of its eyes on me, the slash of its
claws, the sound of its scream tearing through the trees.
I was lucky. No, lucky didn't even begin to
describe it. I was alive, barely, but I knew
one thing for sure. I was never coming back to these
woods, not to Devil's Ridge, not to anywhere like it.
Some places weren't meant for people.
Some places held things that we were never supposed to see,
never supposed to survive. And I wasn't foolish enough to
test my luck twice. As the last of the trees
disappeared in my rear view mirror, I whispered a promise to
myself I would never return. Not to Devil's Ridge, not to any
woods like it. Because the next time I might
not make it out alive.