The cold night air crept through the opening door of the bedroom,
the massive glass panel sliding shut on her left.
The retreating figure of the pool boy, outlined in his bright
white polo shirt, faded into the encroaching darkness of the
early evening. Her gaze fell on the towering 14
foot high glass walls that served as her only barrier to
the cool, enveloping woodland. The untamed nature seemed to
creep closer, its sharp edges softened by the villas well
manicured backyard. With a sigh of resignation, she
buttoned up her crisp white Lauro piano blouse, her eyes
captivated by the mesmerizing dance of blue light shimmering
across the serene surface of the lap pool.
Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the golden strands of
her hair from her eyes, parting her silky locks on either side
of her face. Cassandra Feng held the wine
glass. It's cold embrace was long gone,
replaced with room temperature indifference.
It had been filled earlier in the evening, prior to her
clandestine rendezvous with Julian, the pool boy.
The bubbly Prosecco pounded her palate, carrying along with it a
bitter twinge of guilt. Her affairs with Julian had
grown from sporadic indiscretions into a weekly
ritual, A transgression not so much against her husband of 22
years, but against herself, swirling the pale liquid in her
glass. She sought refuge in a fond
memory, a radiant afternoon on the banks of Lake Como, where
she and Phillip were pronounced wife and husband.
The nostalgic moment quickly soured, chased away by the
biting wine, reminding her of the stagnant bitterness that had
seeped into her marital life. It hadn't always been this way.
When they were busy raising their son, Phillip had struck a
perfect balance, giving time to her, their child, and his
budding career as an investment banker.
Lucas was now a 19 year old making his mark playing lacrosse
at the University of Southern California.
The corners of her lips curled into a sad smile, pride for the
man Lucas had become, mingling with the loneliness that held
her in its icy grip. Lucas, born on a cool September
night in 2004 at Stanford Hospital, was a lifeline in her
isolated existence. He reached out to her every
Sunday, their conversations and endearing exchange of updates.
Laughter and tender advice. His last interaction with
Phillip, however, had been a curt barration over an overdrawn
credit card, a stark contrast to the loving father son Bond they
once shared. A tender memory surfaced,
painting a vivid image of Lucas's first lacrosse game,
back when Phillip was still making an effort to genuinely
engage with their son, watching Lucas dart across the field, his
athletic frame casting long fleet footed shadows as the
opposing team hot on his heels. She felt a surge of pride.
His well aimed hurl of the ball to his teammate was like a
lighthouse beam cutting through the gloom of her thoughts
warming her. She reminisced about the house
party Lucas had thrown during the start of his senior year's
winter break. While she was away with her
friends in the snowy seclusion of Aspen, a part of her knew she
should have been angered by his actions.
Yet at his age, she saw the reflection of her own youthful
rebelliousness. Phillips increasingly extended
absences, gnawed at her like an ever hungry beast in the depths
of her solitude. First it was long hours at work,
then a pattern of coming home every other night, and finally a
pitiful appearance on Thursdays. His rush trips back from Seattle
on those days were mere smoke and mirrors, a feeble attempt to
prop up the crumbling edifice of their marriage, his lack of
presence at her mother's funeral replaced by a disinterested
Skype call. Only amplified the echoing
hollowness within her. The announcement of his election
as vice chairman of the major investment bank he had given his
life to only seemed to hammer another nail in the coffin of
their fading relationship. The doorbells, melancholic chime
roused Cassandra from her deep musings, draping a soft cashmere
sweater from the sprawling bed over her shoulders.
She ran her fingers through her golden hair, her bare feet
padding gently across the glossy Portofino marble floor leading
to the foyer. A quick glimpse through the tall
window that guarded the grand entrance revealed the retreating
figure of an Amazon delivery driver disappearing into the
running truck. A quick thank you echoed down
the driveway, Chasing his vanishing form, she unlocked the
door and collected the package, its label bearing Phillips name. 00:04:57,190 An undertow of resentment guided
her hand, placing it a bit more forcefully than necessary onto
the colossal black marble kitchen island.
She reached up to the warm Hickory wood cupboard hidden
behind meticulously organized jars of spices.
Behind the innocuous paprika, a clandestine sanctuary housed her
secret escape. The small bag, a token of a
private chartered flight from San Francisco to San Martin, was
procured legally. The insidious St. dealers, like
shadowy figures and puffy coats skulking in the parking lots of
malls and Seven Elevens, didn't deserve her trust.
She wouldn't fall victim to fentanyl poisoning, a chilling
tale she heard too often. The cocaine.
Her new companion, served as a temporary refuge, A shortlived
bliss drowning out the agonizing reality of Phillips infidelity.
Cassandra meticulously tapped a thin trail of the granular white
substance onto the polished surface of her West Elm concrete
table. With the back of her credit
card, she expertly brushed it into a fine line.
Her gaze strayed to the sweeping wall of floor to ceiling
windows. Before snapping back to the
white strip that lay before her. Hunching over, she inhaled
sharply, feeling the gritty powder rush up her nostrils and
scrape its way down her nasal passage.
A jolt of discomfort seized her, a sensation akin to inhaling
flour or perhaps fine sand. The abrasive substance scraped
against her sensitive nasal lining, leaving a harsh reminder
of its passage. She quickly wiped away the
vestiges clinging to the edge of her nostril.
A wave of exhilaration swept over her, followed swiftly by a
rising tide of paranoia. Her heart pounded in her chest
like a wild drum, each beat echoing the growing fear.
That nod at her Sanity. She felt, observed, pursued, a
breath at the nape of her neck, prickling her senses wide eyed
and on edge. Tears pooled, brimming over her
lower lids as she battled to clear the unbearable dryness
that assailed her eyes with a swift, practiced motion.
She swept the leftover powder onto the woven rug beneath the
table. Barbara will clean tomorrow, she
muttered to herself, startled by the intrusion of her voice upon
the palpable silence. Her hand reached out to draw the
massive white curtain shut, her heart pounding as if it were a
wild rabbit caught in the glare of a predator.
The distant tree line seemed to harbor watchful eyes feeding
her, paranoia suddenly spinning around.
Cassandra's heart pounded in her chest.
Her eyes darting around the room for an unseen phantom, but all
she found was her own reflection echoing back at her from the
glossy surfaces of the expansive living space.
A nervous giggle escaped her lips, her drug induced paranoia
appearing ludicrous now, she redirected her attention to the
corner of the room, where a sleek marble sculpture stood in
stark contrast to the unexpected company she now found herself
in. The modern piece was the result
of a Swiss designer skill. Someone she'd briefly known in a
life that seemed to world away now and there, incongruously at
ease in her plush designer armchair, was a man she had
never seen before. The atmosphere was electrified
with suspense, every tick of the clock amplifying her rising
panic before she fully registered her own actions.
A scream ripped through the silence escaping from Cassandra. 00:08:19,980 The man, without missing a beat,
vaulted from his chair. His speed was unnerving.
A blurred figure traversing the length of the living room before
diving through the colossal window.
A Symphony of shattering safety glass rang out, a cascade of
shards glistening as they rained down onto the polished floor.
Cassandra's eyes remained fixated on the retreating
figure. A silhouette of inky darkness
cast Stark against her perfectly manicured terrace.
The intruder moved with such surreal agility that the details
of his naked form blurred and twisted.
Becoming an enigmatic cipher before disappearing entirely as
he crossed the sprawling emerald lawn, he melted seamlessly into
the Hedgerow's natural barrier, separating her domain from the
wild, untamed underbrush. And then, just like that, he
vanished, swallowed whole by the stygian shadows of the dense
forest beyond. Better run, because I'm calling
the cops, she screeched into the night.
Her words, jagged shards of fear, shot through the shattered
window frame. Her voice clashed against the
orchestra of rustling foliage and the thunderous pounding of
her heart that threatened to explode from her chest.
The surreal, grotesque reality of the situation felt like a
maelstrom, threatening to tear her sanity asunder.
How had an intruder penetrated her fortress without her
knowledge? Who was he?
Or worse, what was it? Such harrowing questions nod at
her mind, casting monstrous shadows of paranoia that lurched
and writhed in the dark recesses of her psyche.
I must be dreaming. She attempted to reassure
herself with a hollow chuckle, her laugh a haunting rasp
brittle as autumn leaves crushed under foot.
No, Cassandra, she croaked to her reflection, A specter of
fear mirrored in the television screen.
You're just dreaming. Her voice teetered on the
precipice of hysteria, a whisper caught in the eye of the storm.
Whipping her head around, she scrutinized the expansive living
room. Each shadow grew darker.
Pooling into ominous ink blots under the pallid glare of a
crappy reality show endlessly replaying on the flat screen TV. 00:10:24,460 The spectral light from the
television birthed monstrous shadows, their sinewy tendrils
elongating across the room. Reaching out like skeletal
fingers, they threatened to seize her ankle to yank her down
into an unfathomable abyss of insanity, a pit from which there
was no escape. She drew a deep breath, eyelids
sinking shut as her psychologist had taught her.
Focusing on a calming, grounding memory.
Yes, Lucas, she thought, his memory a gentle beacon in the
churning sea of her thoughts, but her solitary lifeline was
severed abruptly as the low hum of the garage doors permeated
her makeshift sanctuary, causing her eyes to flick open.
Unblinking, she stared down the long corridor leading to the
garage and pantry spaces, the hum echoing like a warning call
in the pit of her stomach. Her footsteps clacked against
the marble. The wood paneled walls seem to
grow eyes, their forested eyes tracking her in every
reflection, reaching out of the graining of the wood towards
her, trying to break free. The dull accent lighting was
classy, but it only succeeded in blinding her, drawing her eyes
back and forth so much something moved to her left.
Then above her the marble patterns writhed under foot,
holding back an unseen serpent as if it were a frozen lake.
She stared wide eyed, her eyes burning from the lack of
blinking. The being reached out towards
her, the veins in the marble forming a face.
Its eyes were pure white in the marble, staring through her head
as it smiled an empty smile. Philip.
She howled, her voice echoing off the sterile walls as she
yanked open the robust door leading into the garage.
But what greeted her was not the comforting form of her husband,
nor the routine sight of their cars parked neatly in line.
Instead, it was an all consuming void, an abyss that devoured
every shred of hope and left in its place a gnawing dread.
The cavernous 4 car garage was transformed into an underworld
of shadows. Any semblance of familiarity was
eradicated, replaced by a realm of darkness that seemed to
pulsate with a life of its own. Suddenly the motion sensor
detected her presence and the two rows of antiquated
fluorescent rods flickered into existence, their light a dim,
spectral blue. That was more haunting than
reassuring. The illumination, stark and
harsh, painted a grim picture of her surroundings.
The hulking form of her SUV and the two sedans sat like dormant
monsters, their sleek bodies reflecting the eerie light in
anotherworldly Sheen. The vehicles cast chilling
shadows that stretched out across the concrete floor,
obscuring the details in a thick blanket of blackness.
Her attention snagged on a silhouette nestled in the far
corner of the garage. Partially hidden by the mammoth
storage rack adjacent to the Bay doors, the form was strangely
humanoid, A grotesquely elongated shadow perched in the
corner as if it were a grim Sentinel, A single smoky tendril
of darkness unfurled from the figure, undulating across the
surface of the garage door with an almost sentient deliberation,
this dark spectre loomed like a demonic starfish.
Becoming less a part of the garage and more a haunting
testament to Cassandra's escalating paranoia, it seemed
to whisper without sound It's very existence and ominous
melody that gripped Cassandra's sanity.
With icy fingers, the twin bulbs blinked out of existence
suddenly, their absence marking the birth of an all consuming
darkness. It surged forward, a palpable
wave of terror that caught her in its icy grip.
Her feet drummed against the marble in a futile attempt to
escape its clutches. Only to be thrust back into the
sparsely lit, oppressive confines of the hallway.
No, she stammered, the beast in the marble swimming towards her,
the veining in the rock distorting and bending as it
passed. No, she screamed, her voice
piercing the oppressive silence as she pushed herself off the
wall. The knots in the wooden panels
jerked ominously towards her, their animated forms reaching
out to ensnare her, pulling her into their maddening chaos.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst as
bitter tears streamed down her cheeks.
Her mascara bled, streaking her deathly pale face and staining
the collar of her linen blouse. Suddenly she felt an invisible
force impeding her retreat, tugging her towards the gaping
maw of the open garage door. Stop it, she shrieked, her voice
cracking under the sheer terror squeezing her vocal cords.
Then, as abruptly as it had seized her, the unseen force
relinquished its grip. Hurling her across the polished
floor, in an instant she was back on her feet, lunging into a
sharp left turn at the corridor and breaking into a desperate
Sprint. She raced through the expanse of
the eerily quiet living room and darted past the ominous silence
of the kitchen. The familiar surroundings
morphed into a nightmarish labyrinth, her escalating fear
lending them an aura of surreal dread.
The hallway seemed to elongate before her.
An insidious illusion making it stretch an additional 2 feet for
every foot she covered. The cacophony of thumps and
scratches filled the air, feeding her fear.
Something or someone hammered at a door next to her, the solid
wood appearing to churn like dough in a mixer, its surface
undulating, as though hands and limbs were pressing from within,
desperate to break free. The sight cast wicked, demonic
shadows that danced and twisted across the hallway.
The manifestations of her spiraling paranoia.
She rounded a corner and threw herself against the door to the
powder room bathroom. It instantly gave in, opening
and crashing against the vertical wood walls.
The door slammed and she forced herself into the corner of the
small room, curling into a fetal position, wrapping her arms
around her knees as she rocked back and forth.
Her heart thumped slowly, turning her head to look at the
face writhing in the wood grain next to her.
Phillip. Her scream echoed in the
confined space as she hurled herself towards the granite
countertop, snatching a pair of hair trimming scissors.
The cold metal bit into her palm as she watched the horrifying
apparition take shape in the wall, a grotesque parade of
faces rippling across the surface before lunging towards
her. The door slammed inwards,
holding as something tried to get in.
Tears flooded her eyes as she thrashed the scissors into the
wood over and over. Splinters flew from the gaping
wound in the panels as she stabbed the apparition in the
grain. The face was pulled back into
the surface. Leave me alone, she bellowed,
her eyes clenching shut as she continued her mad butchery of
the wood. Get out of my head, she muttered
to herself, the low murmur suddenly erupting into a high
pitched shriek. With a burst of manic energy,
she dragged the scissors across the entire length of the wall,
shearing the surface off. Splinters flew about, savagely
scratching her hands and wrists. Faces trapped within the wood
wailed in silent agony, their mouths contorting.
Grotesquely Hermanic frenzy halted as she kicked her feet
against the toilet, pushing herself against the door.
Surveying her work, Cassandra's nervous giggles punctured the
oppressive silence. Yes, yes, yes, she babbled, her
voice edging towards hysteria. Stay away, Her shriek echoed
against the claustrophobic walls.
The terror strewn syllables bouncing back and forth in the
small space. She watched an abject horror as
the gashes she had made on the wooden door filled with a
viscous black substance, the dark tendrils inching menacingly
towards her. Desperately, she tried to handle
the door, staring into the wooden eyes of her husband as
she viciously pounded against the surface, sobbing and
convulsing as it held firm. Her futile attempts to escape
left red streaks on the paneling.
The residue of her once immaculately manicured hands,
the encroaching darkness closed in around her, the dim light
from the bulbs flickering erratically as if they were
engaged in some twisted, ritualistic chant.
The ominous strobes of light revealed the final shreds of her
sanity unraveling their departure.
Marked by her ear piercing scream, an unseen force seized
her throat, it's ghostly fingers tracing her features and
strangling the breath out of her.
Cassandra crumpled to the floor, the teal porcelain tiles cold
and unyielding. Against her trembling form.
She was a pathetic heap of terror, her mouth agape in a
silent scream as the sinister shadows invaded her body,
slithering down her throat and clawing at her heart.
An icy chill filled her chest, freezing her from within as her
desperate lungs begged for air. Panic took hold, her frantic
eyes scanning the cold teal porcelain tiles beneath her.
As if hoping they would reveal an escape, the scissors
clattered out of her weakening grip, their sharp echo blending
with the thrumming silence. The last vestiges of life
slipped from her lips, choked back by the relentless darkness. 00:19:32,330 As death's cold fingers tighten
their grip around her throat, her world dissolved into an
eternal, suffocating blackness. Barbara stood on the threshold
of the powder room, her hands at her sides regarding her friend
and employer of over a decade, even in death.
Cassandra retained an eerie elegance, her blouse stained
with the Crimson of her own, blood draped around her
contorted and static form. She lay in a loose fetal
position on the chilling tile floor, a thin trail of white
powder clinging to her upper lip.
Her eyes were closed, yet Barbara felt their vacant stare
bore into her. Ma'am, please step aside.
An officer intruded, pushing a stretcher and brandishing an
oxygen mask, his bright orange vest contrasting starkly with
the somber scene. Of course, Barbara responded
weakly, stepping aside as the stretcher brushed past her.
She watched as Cassandra's lifeless body was loaded onto
the Gurney, strapped down and fitted with an oxygen mask.
The strobing, red and blue lights of the ambulance washed
over the scene as Cassandra was wheeled away.
Barbara knew they couldn't save her.
The potent cocktail of endorphins and ground up
fentanyl would ensure that she observed the traces of
Cassandra's final struggle during her overdose.
Deep gashes marred the wooden paneling of the walls and door.
Red fingerprints smeared the door and mirror.
Barbara's gaze fell upon a pair of scissors, which she promptly
nudged under the bathroom vanity with her foot.
The shattered window in the living room perplexed Barbara.
The tempered glass was too thick for her feeble arms to break,
and the alarm had not been triggered.
Her confusion lingered. The room hummed as the Roomba
vacuumed up traces of cocaine from under the coffee table in
the carpet. She snatched the bag of powder
from the spice drawer, adding it to the contents of the vacuum
cleaner. A grim smile pulled at the
corners of Barbara's mouth. For the first time in months.
Tonight she would see Philip without his wife for the first
time, emptying the Roomba vacuums contents into the pool.
She watched the dull particulates meld seamlessly
with the chlorinated water. Her gaze swept across the well
manicured lawn bordered by hydrangeas, awash in the Auburn
glow of the rising sun. The air was crisp, yet a vague
sense of being watched lingered on the fringes of her awareness,
unnerving her. She knew Cassandra's security
cameras were mere props designed to deter potential intruders.
Yet she felt as though she was being scrutinized, akin to the
judgmental stare of teenagers at a shopping mall or the
disapproving glare of an old Italian woman.
Nonetheless, she shrugged off the feeling and sauntered back
into the house to await her lover.
A loud honk sounded as the car in front of me came to a sudden
stop. Something had dashed across the
road, something large. I slammed my foot down on the
brakes and prayed the icy Rd. wouldn't allow yet another
Fender Bender. It was hard to make out any
shapes through the thick veil of the blizzard's harrowing
Symphony, but I could tell that whatever had crossed the highway
had done so with speed and precision.
Maybe a moose, I thought to myself, paying no further mind
to the matter. I reclined into my seat and
turned up the volume on the radio.
Frank Sinatra's I've Got You Under.
My skin filled the cozy insides of my SUV, and I felt my heart
rate steadily stabilize. It had been several hours since
I left my hometown, and now I was surrounded by an endless
expanse of white. As far as the eye could see,
there should have been a forest on either side of the highway.
But with the severely deteriorating weather
conditions, it was impossible to make out anything farther than
six feet away. As I tapped my fingers on the
steering wheel in perfect synchronization with the song, I
grew more and more impatient. We had stood still for at least
5 minutes now. Surely there couldn't be this
much traffic all the way out here.
The song was nearly over and we still hadn't moved.
Behind me, I could hear a chorus of aggressive honking.
There were at least six cars behind me.
And as far as I could tell, probably 6IN front as well.
Their headlights were the only indicator of their existence, as
the snow had turned everything else invisible.
Then a grisly thought spread like wildfire throughout the
crevices of my mind. Had there been an accident?
I sat up in my seat and made an attempt to somehow peek above
the top of the car ahead of me. It was futile.
What is going on? I murmured under my breath as a
loud sigh escaped my body. The howling winds outside
violently slammed into the exterior of the car, eliminating
any notions that I may have had about stepping out and
investigating. For now, it was best I just
waited it out. It would surely pass.
In a minute or so, I picked up my phone and started messing
around with a few apps. I do not condone texting and
driving, but considering we hadn't been moving for a while,
I'd wager a short social media session couldn't hurt anyone.
And besides. It didn't look like I was going
anywhere anytime soon either. I even glanced over to the half
empty bottle of Jack Daniels that laid unassuming on the
floorboard of the seat beside me.
But I decided against it for now.
Prior to this traffic jam, I had been visiting my extended family
for the holidays back in my hometown.
Due to reasons we don't need to delve into, I was forced to
leave earlier than I'd initially expected.
Which was fine by me, as I couldn't stand another second of
chatty family drama and that awful holiday cheer.
Forgive me if I'm sparse with the details, but for privacy's
sake I won't disclose the name of the town I departed from, nor
where I am currently headed. All you need to know is that the
road I was traveling on was located pretty far up in the
northwestern region of the United States, and it was
absolutely freezing. Sometime passed and the vehicles
on the road hadn't moved an inch.
It was as though they were rooted to the icy foundations
below. Dauntingly, I observed as the
car in front of me was in the process of getting devoured by
the rapidly growing snowfall. Its tires were nearly completely
engulfed, and I figured that it wouldn't be long until getting
home in time to watch today's football game would be the least
of my concerns. Then, growing in the distance
were sirens. I looked up from my phone and
directed my gaze toward the side view mirror.
And saw a faint blinking blue light penetrate through the
thicket of snow. The ambulance zoomed past me at
breakneck speeds, and shortly after a police car followed.
This only reaffirmed my belief that something terribly wrong
had occurred. I scrolled through my phone and
continued as usual. Though my digital endeavors
would prove to be quite fruitless, the longer I used my
phone, the worse the connection seemed to get.
TikTok and YouTube videos began buffering.
And other apps that required Internet connectivity wouldn't
even load. I'm by no means a physicist,
tech guru, meteorologist, or whatever the appropriate title
for this would be, but I surmise that the ongoing raging storm
could be linked to the shortcomings of my phone signal. 00:26:45,660 Incidentally, I was also in the
middle of nowhere, 40 minutes away from the nearest settlement
and three hours away from the closest city.
The remoteness of my location would surely also have an impact
on my. A light tapping on the window
caught me off guard, and I jolted in my seat.
Crap, I thought as the sight of a bulky police officer greeted
me on the other side of the glass.
By the looks of it, he had been out in the storm for way too
long. His cheeks were glowing pink,
and he had snowflakes stuck in his burly mustache.
I quickly stowed my phone in my pocket and rolled down the
window, preparing to explain why I was on my phone in traffic,
but the officer didn't care about any of that.
Good evening, Sir, the officer started.
There has been an incident further up the road.
Right now we're trying to Could you turn that down?
He gestured toward the radio. Sorry, officer.
Of course, I replied, dialing the scroll wheel of the volume
button all the way down. As I was saying, we're trying to
evacuate this whole area. Once I've gotten to the final
car at the end behind you there, and I've gotten him to start
backing up, I want you to follow him immediately.
You want me to drive in reverse? I questioned, A quizzical
grimace stretched across my face.
Roads too narrow right now, I don't see any other option,
unless you want to try turning around and risk ending up in one
of these ditches Here, the officer said with a slight
smirk. But before I had the chance to
say anything else, a thundering bang sounded a couple of yards
in front of us. The winds carried the sound with
ear splitting accuracy. The officer reacted immediately,
hovering his hand above the pistol in his holster.
He took a few steps back and tried signaling in on his
shoulder mounted radio. Another bang echoed through the
harsh wind, followed by another, then another.
The sounds were unmistakable. They were gunshots.
He drew his pistol and rushed toward the source of the sounds. 00:28:43,000 I watched as he slowly faded
from view. A void of white had swallowed
him whole. I stared in shock for a couple
of minutes, expecting the officer to return any moment,
but he never came. A small mass of snow had started
accumulating inside my car, so I quickly rolled up the window.
I could hear another set of muffled gunshots joining the
already dominant ones. It sounded like they were
completely emptying their magazines into whoever or
whatever. Then, in perfect unity, the
sound stopped. The silence weighed heavy as I
sat in anticipation. My mind was flustered with
thoughts and ideas, but the prevalent feeling that occupied
my body was a creeping sensation of dread.
Just what the hell was going on? I anxiously tapped my fingers on
the steering wheel. In a moment of weakness, I once
again looked over to the bottle on the floor.
I hadn't gone this long without a drink in years.
One sip wouldn't hurt, right? Just to call my nerves.
If I was discreet enough, the officers would have no way of
knowing. Just as I leaned over to the
passenger side to pick the bottle up, my vehicle violently
trembled. Something powerful had slammed
into my car. I cursed loudly and rose back
up, abandoning the bottle. I frantically searched around,
looking for any signs of the perpetrator.
I scanned my rear view, the side window, and even the passenger
side's window. Nothing but a flurry of white
specks. Then I noticed something in the
Blizzard in front of me. A black silhouette grew larger
and larger, and soon I could make out what it was.
A man. No two men, and they were
running, running towards my car. But these guys weren't police
officers, nor any of the paramedics that had arrived
earlier. They must have been the denizens
of the cars in front. And then two more people
appeared behind them, either giving chase to or following the
two men in front. As they inched closer, I could
properly see the expressions carved into their faces.
They were terrified. They looked as though they had
seen a ghost. The first two men ran past my
car. They didn't even look at me.
Shortly after, the two people behind them followed a woman and
a boy. They hurried across the ice at
great speeds, while at the same time exercising caution so as to
not slip and fall. Before I had the chance to
react, they were gone. Having once again been consumed
by the endless white void. This was definitely cause for
concern. Who in their right mind would
abandon the comforts of their vehicles all the way out here in
this weather? The driver in front of me
cautiously opened one of the doors of the car.
A middle-aged white man with a beer gut stepped out into the
cold. He slung his puffer jacket
around his shoulders and stared off into the distance ahead.
I watched him curiously, wondering if he too would start
running, and then wondering whether I should join him if he
indeed decided to. Right now it seemed illogical,
but then again, these guys clearly knew something I didn't. 00:31:43,330 Maybe there was a gas leak
ahead. Maybe some radioactive material
had been improperly disposed of. My mind raced, looking for any
logical explanations for my current predicament, but I found
none. The man took a few steps
forward, intently inspecting the Blizzard ahead.
It seemed as though something had caught his attention.
He took another few steps forward, positioning himself in
front of his car, partially obscuring my view of him, his
left side still visible. But there was something else in
the deep recesses of the snowstorm.
Something was moving. I strained my eyes, leaning
forward in my seat and staring through my snow covered
windshield. Approaching from the left side
of the road onto the oncoming lane, a large silhouette bobbed
up and down as it slowly advanced toward the man, though
it was far away. It looked to be near twice his
height, but he hadn't noticed it.
The man was far too busy, examining whatever had caught
his attention directly in front of him.
An overwhelming sense of dread filled my veins.
The way the silhouette moved, I couldn't quite explain why, but
it felt predatory, like a lion stalking its prey through the
thick underbrush of the African Savannah, right before springing
into action and securing itself a fresh meal.
Was it a moose? It didn't look to be.
The proportions were way off and it almost looked to be bipedal,
but I couldn't think of any other large animals out here
that the silhouette could have belonged to.
I doubted this area had ever seen any polar bears.
And Even so, they couldn't possibly reach this size, could
they? It was like my primal instinct
screamed at me to do something. I felt my fight or flight start
to kick in, but I managed to keep it under wraps.
I was safe inside my warm SUV, but the man, however, I had to
warn him somehow. If I honked my horn, whatever
was stalking him might have leaped into action right away.
It was too risky. Before I could think of
anything, the man screamed in terror.
Muffled through my car's thick exterior, his cries echoed.
I focused ahead of me, trying to get a glimpse of what had riled
him up so badly. He turned around in an attempt
to flee. He had almost made it back to
the driver's side door of his car when he planted his face
into the cold, hard ground. He must have slipped.
The predatory silhouette to his left was nowhere to be seen.
Now, for a brief moment I locked eyes with the man, a familiar
look of excruciating fear contoured across his face.
He dug his long and unkept nails into the snow, slowly crawling
forwards, and then he screamed yet again, but this time not out
of fear but in pain, violently, he was dragged back.
I watched in horror as the man tried to fight it, clutching the
powdery snow as if it would actually provide a stable grip.
He was dragged in front of his car and out of my view just
before he rounded the left side corner.
I could see his red covered hands desperately cling to the
tire, and then he was pulled away.
I was in complete disbelief. It was like a scene from a
horror movie, except this was real.
This was actually happening. The man's wailing abruptly
ceased, and besides the harsh winds of the Blizzard, no sound
was made. I pulled out my phone and tried
my best to shake the trembling in my hands as I dialed 911.
As I waited for a response, I made sure all the doors were
locked while I glued my eyes to the spot where I'd last seen the
man. A pair of long indentations
scarred the snow where he had lay.
And a Crimson handprint stained the black rubber of the front
tire. Come on, come on, pick up
already, I harshly muttered to my phone, but I never made it
past the dialing tone. Was it because I had no service? 00:35:22,040 I've heard that many emergency
lines still operate in spite of a poor phone signal, but right
now I was inclined to believe the contrary.
I eventually gave up and put my phone down.
I shrunk down into my seat, making myself as small as I
could. I couldn't possibly tell you how
long I sat there waiting like that.
The concept of time felt irrelevant at that moment.
In my reclined position, I still retained a decent line of sight
to the outside world. There were no signs of movement,
just an empty white canvas. I could hear no discernible
sounds either. I watched in what felt like slow
motion as each individually unique flake of snow landed and
then proceeded to melt onto the glass.
The windshield wipers fought the Blizzard vigorously.
Rushing aside everything the malevolent storm had to offer,
then suddenly, with a squelched thud, something heavy crashed
down on the window and the wipers were now smearing A
viscous red liquid back and forth across the windshield.
A nearly indescribable sense of paralyzing horror drilled into
my very soul as I realized what I was looking at.
I immediately recognized the sorrowed eyes and contorted
expression of pain that draped across the poor man's face.
But the true horror of this scene lay not with the frightful
sight that greeted me no more than 12 inches away, separated
only by a cracked glass screen. No, the true horror presented
itself after I finally mustered up the courage to ponder the
question that I'm not even sure I wanted the answer to where was
the rest of him? Upon the revelation that I was
gazing at a human head, I was compelled to scream
uncontrollably at the top of my lungs.
And so I did. I couldn't help it.
I felt nauseous and on the verge of vomiting.
It took all my strength to gather any fragment of composure
that had not yet left my body, and I quickly sat up in my seat,
frantically scanning my surroundings.
Still, I saw nothing except a heavy downpour of snow.
I tried to calm down, as I knew that panicking would only worsen
whatever situation was at hand. I steadied my breathing and sat
still slowly counting down from 10:00, however.
The grotesque site that greeted me whenever I looked through the
windshield didn't exactly help. So I closed my eyes and
continued counting, focusing on controlling my breathing.
Inhale. Exhale.
But even as I closed my eyes, I still saw his face.
The gruesome image had burned itself deep into my mind, and I
felt anxious at the thought that I may never sleep peacefully
again. In my distracted haze, I failed
to notice that something foreign had filled the air, something
ominous. It was a deep sound, barely
audible, a stark contrast to the roaring winds outside.
It was the kind of sound you feel rather than hear, if that
makes sense. It was deep and bellowing, and I
swear I could feel my chest faintly vibrate, like when
you're at a concert or nightclub with a really loud bass.
Carefully, I rolled down my window 1/4 of the way in order
to better hear the curious noise.
It was much clearer now, and the best way to describe it would be
to call it a sort of low pitched rumble.
Its tone fluctuated ever so slightly, as if in
synchronization with short, rapid breaths.
It would be a rather powerful display of vocal cords if the
sound was of organic origin. I tried my best to pinpoint the
direction from which the sound emanated, but I found the task
to be near impossible. It may have been the wind
distorting and dislocating the sound, but it sounded like it
originated from every direction. I didn't know what to do.
Obviously I didn't want to exit the car and make a run for it
like the previous motorist before me, but I felt that
staying inside the car would only render me a sitting duck.
I had no weapons to protect myself either, not even a pocket
knife in the glove compartment. The only thing I had was an old
Zippo lighter, which I doubted would do any real damage in a
fight. The deep rumbling subsided and
was instead replaced by a hooting sound reminiscent of
that of an owl, only much deeper.
Like if someone blew air into a hollow tree trunk.
But this sound was easy to pinpoint, and I could discern
that it was coming from behind the car in front of me, where I
had last seen the man before his untimely demise.
I fix my gaze toward the source of the sound, expecting to see
its owner peeking around the edges of the vehicle at any
moment. When I suddenly heard another
identical set of deep hooting coming from my left side.
I wondered how the animal or creature, or whatever it was
that made those sounds. Had somehow managed to sneak
past my line of sight and position itself to my left
without me noticing. But my wondering was cut short
when the original set of hoots in front once again started
bellowing through the winter air as if in response to the other
ones. And to my utter dismay, I slowly
began to realize that whatever was making those sounds,
whatever had got, that man was not alone out here.
And that's when I first saw it, as if on cue.
I noticed the dominant silhouette standing in the
middle of the road, contrasting itself against the rushing
snowfall. Slowly emerging from the
harrowing Blizzard just a few yards away from the car ahead,
the creature revealed itself. It was unlike anything I had
ever seen before, an abominable middle finger to all of God's
creations upon this earth. Its skull resembled that of a
crocodile, resting well over 10 feet above the ground.
It also had a large Crest fixated right over its eyes,
reminiscent of the horns of a bull.
Its razor sharp teeth were stained red and red, dripped
down from its maw and onto the snow covered asphalt.
The entire creature was covered in dense white fur like that of
a polar bear. No wonder I hadn't spotted it
until now. It was perfectly camouflaged
among the powdery white snow. The rest of the body was hard to
make out due to the storm, but I could tell it was huge.
Easily towering over the vehicle, it slowly approached.
It moved closer, trotting towards me in a jagged fashion.
Blood still dripped from its malformed mouth.
It almost looked to be smiling. Almost.
I looked around the cabin of the car once more, desperately
scouring for anything I could use to defend myself.
Except for the bottle of liquor I had laying about, I was at a
loss. At least I could ease the pain
of being torn limb from limb by having a little alcohol in my
system. I thought to myself.
Seeing the creature uncomfortably close now, I made
an attempt to just drive away. It was true what the officer had
said previously about the road being extremely narrow, but in
the face of certain death. I figured it was worth a shot
though, as I was boxed in by both a car in my front and one
in my rear. I would have to succeed at a
difficult maneuver in order to make my escape, a maneuver I
wasn't too sure I could make in these perilous conditions, but I
had to try. I applied my foot down onto the
gas pedal and the tires spun around in the snow, slinging
bits of debris everywhere. Still stationary, I pressed down
even harder, hoping to God that I would break free from my
frozen constraints. In my panic, I gazed ahead and
locked eyes with the creature. I could feel its wicked stare
Burrow deep into my soul. The wheels kept spinning, but I
wasn't making any progress. I had waited too long.
It was as I had feared earlier. I was trapped.
There was nowhere to go. An earsplitting hoot sounded
just a few yards away, and I saw the creature had stopped in its
tracks. It raised its head and let out
another hoot. What the hell do you want?
I sobbed, punching the steering wheel In frustration.
The wretched thing turned its head and let out yet another
vocalization. It was as if it wanted to grab
my attention or to distract me. Before I knew it, I felt a
searing pain aching throughout my body.
And my world was turned upside down as a powerful force slammed
into the left side of the car, sending it flying.
The SUV toppled over, accompanied by the sounds of
crushing metal. Thankfully, I was wearing my
seat belt, or else I would have probably broken my neck while
tumbling around inside the car like dirty laundry in a washing
machine. When the car eventually came to
a stop, I found myself suspended upside down in the driver's
seat. The vehicle had rolled down into
the nearby ditch on the side of the road.
Below me, on the inside of the car's roof, were fragments of
shattered glass and heaps of snow.
I hadn't quite processed what had happened, so I sat there for
a moment, taking it all in. Suddenly everything felt so calm
and quiet I questioned if I had even survived the ordeal.
A warm liquid flowed down from my chin into my mouth and then
down the rest of my face. The stinging copper taste made
me snap out of my trance, and I began to assess the situation.
Outside I heard heavy thuds rapidly approaching the vehicle. 00:44:12,180 Each mighty stomp struck down
into the snow with rhythm, and I could imagine the creatures,
mouth practically foaming at the prospect of a fresh new meal.
The footsteps came to a sudden halt right outside the driver's
side window and I turned my head to get a better look.
A set of two large and powerful hind legs stood mere inches away
from my face. They were covered in what looked
to be reptilian like scales lined with dense white fur.
And the creature had three long talons that protruded from each
foot. The deafening scraping of metal
filled the air as I imagine the creature began clawing away at
the undercarriage of the SUV. From the fastpaced shifting of
the monster's feet, I began to understand the sheer ferocity
with which it attacked. It was going ballistic,
shredding the exterior at an incredibly fast rate.
A combination of hoots and growls escaped its bloodthirsty
jaws as it chipped away at the metal.
It wouldn't be long until it was through.
Another pair of heavy footsteps stopped just a short distance
away on the opposite side of the car, right outside the passenger
side window. Like its predecessor, it too
began clawing and kicking at the body of the car.
The two creatures were relentless.
I'd never seen anything like it. Not even wild hyenas were this
ravenous. I braced for impact as I
unbuckled my seat belt, positioning myself in such a
manner so that I wouldn't break my neck upon impact.
I hit the ground hard and was greeted by the sensation of cold
snow and broken glass. The car rocked back and forth as
the creatures violently attacked.
It was obvious I couldn't stay in here for long, but escaping
the crushed remains of my vehicle and running out on foot
didn't seem favorable either. I felt a deep desperation begin
to set in as I realized I would most likely not live to see
another day. This was it, just as all hope
had faded. And I began to accept my fate.
My arm brushed up against a cold and oblong object.
I shifted my body around to see what it was, and a light bulb
ignited inside my head as I gazed upon the still intact
bottle of liquor that laid on the floor.
My hands trembled as I reached deep into my pocket and
extracted my old Zippo lighter. However I examined the Jack
Daniels engaged that the contents inside would not be
enough for the powerful reaction I was hoping for.
So I opened the glove compartment and began searching. 00:46:31,660 Ah, there it is.
I cheered as my fingers grazed upon the bottle of scented hand
sanitizer, an old relic from the pandemic.
It was nearly full as well. I opened the two bottles and
began pouring the disinfectant alcohol down into the half empty
liquor bottle. The sanitizer mixed in with the
strong bourbon would surely be enough for an improvised Molotov
cocktail. I ripped off a piece of cloth
from my shirt and stuffed it down.
The bottleneck. With the Molotov in hand, I
crawled toward the cracked windshield.
I spun around and pressed my feet against the shattered glass
frame. In an adrenaline infused state,
I pressed my legs down and applied pressure to the
windshield. I strained my body and pushed my
legs harder than I'd ever done before in my life, wishing I'd
spent more time at the gym prior to this.
Due to its severely damaged condition, it didn't take long
before the windshield came off. And the harsh winds of the
outside world filled the cabin of the upside down car.
Above me the creatures growled and bellowed, ripping and
tearing away at the framework. I could see narrow slivers of
light begin to penetrate the underside of the car, meaning
they were nearly through. I crawled through the new
opening and out into the unforgiving Blizzard.
I feared that as soon as I stepped outside, one of the
creatures would promptly place my head in its jaws and I would
be done for. But that never came.
It seemed that they were too preoccupied with getting through
the hard exterior of the SUV, and they had failed to notice
that I had made my crafty escape.
I kept crawling along the snow, praying to God that the beast
wouldn't turn their hideous heads and discover the easy meal
slithering away right beside it. I didn't dare look back either.
I couldn't bring myself to face the abominable animals.
Once I had achieved A satisfactory distance away from
the car, I finally turned around and rose to my feet.
I ignited my lighter and set the Molotov cocktail ablaze.
Don't try this at home, by the way.
With all my remaining strength, I hurled the flaming bottle at
the heap of scrap metal that used to be my car and watched in
glory as the fire began to rise. I even think I hit one of the
creatures as I heard a dazzled Yelp cry out.
The flames weren't nearly big enough to cause a massive
explosion or anything, but it was just enough to distract the
creature so that I was able to make a run for it.
I ran back onto the road and continued past all the vacant
cars that stood further up. The ice was painted red and a
couple of human corpses, or at least what remained of them,
were strung about the various abandoned vehicles.
Eventually I came upon the ambulance in the police car that
had arrived about an hour prior. There were no signs of the
officer who had talked to me, but deep down I knew what kind
of fate had befallen him. In the distance, I heard ominous
rumbling sounds coming from one of the creatures.
Followed by agitated hooting. Had they finally noticed I was
gone? In that case, I didn't have a
lot of time. I got inside the ambulance and
planted myself down in the driver's seat.
A frozen and severed human hand was attached to the steering
wheel. I gagged as I ripped it off and
tossed it out the open window. The creatures shrill cries
echoed through the snowstorm and it sounded like they were coming
closer. Desperately, I turned the
ambulances. Ignition.
And to my delight, it started up without a hitch.
I kicked my foot down on the gas pedal and floored it out of
there. Luckily for me, ambulances in
this part of the United States come well equipped to handle
hazardous terrain and snow covered roads.
As I drove, I intently watched the rearview mirror, hoping I
would get a last glimpse of one of the monsters, but the only
things I saw were whirling snowflakes dancing effortlessly
along the icy winds that carried them.
About 30 minutes of driving later, I arrived at a small
town. The Blizzard had begun to let up
and the sun was starting to set on the horizon.
I parked outside the first roadside hotel I found and must
have looked like a zombie. As I frantically begged the
receptionist to alert the authorities, she looked
extremely nervous, but did as I told her.
After a while of talking, the kind receptionist informed me
that the police would stop by first thing tomorrow morning.
Apparently the nearest police station was an hour's drive
away, and the raging storm had caused major problems across
infrastructure all over the state.
Seeing as how nobody was in immediate danger, they would
wait until the roads were cleared and traversal was safe
again. I wasn't happy with this
response, but I was too tired to really care.
I checked into one of the hotel rooms and began typing all this
out on my phone. There are still so many
questions left unanswered. But I imagine tomorrow will
bring more news about the situation.
I just hope that the other motorists along that highway
made it out Okay, but I have my doubts.
The Blizzard has now subsided, and outside my second story
window I am treated to a view of the clear night sky and the
endless expanse of the tundra. I'll admit this landscape is
beautiful, though it is a shame that I will now forever
associate the tranquility of snowfall with the abhorrent
horror of events prior, however. That is not all.
Since it was getting hot in my room, I decided to crack my
window slightly ajar. For the past hour I have been
listening to the breeze floating across the frozen countryside.
There are no sounds of wild animals out here, oddly enough,
but there is something else. Occasionally in the distance.
The silence is broken by the ever so familiar and foreboding
sound of a faint hoot crying out into the night.
I'll start by saying that I'm now an 18 year old male who has
had encounters with the supernatural ever since I was 8
years old, and I've had at least one experience every three
years, so I'm pretty determined that there's a cycle.
I'm a firm believer in the unexplained growing up and
listening to people describe their encounters with Bigfoot
and other supernatural creatures.
However, listening to the stories and actually
experiencing something. Are two very different ball
games. This incident happened back in
November of 2022 when I was visiting a campground in
Garibaldi OR on the coast with my choir class for a weekend
excursion in order to get to know our classmates better.
The camp we were at had two large two-story group cabins,
several trails, a mess hall with a basement, and other amenities. 00:53:01,350 I will not disclose the name of
the camp, but if you've been there, you've been there.
The first day and night of the excursion went incredibly well,
with us all getting to know each other, me having horrible luck
asking out the girl I liked, and overall having a good time with
my friends. However, when the sun went down,
things changed dramatically. The atmosphere shifted, making
everything eerie and unsettling. I didn't experience anything on
the first night, but it was still very unsettling.
I'll quickly add here that my and my classmates hadn't seen a
single animal during the whole trip.
Not even birds or squirrels, which was already bizarre.
The next day was pretty normal with our class going through all
of our scheduled activities. As the day went on, dinner
rolled around and before I knew it, everyone was back in the
cabins and turning in for the night.
However, I couldn't sleep. For some reason, I decided that
it would be best if I stepped outside onto the second story
balcony to help take my mind off of things.
When I felt the same thing I did the night before, that feeling
of dread was coming back. As well as the feeling that
there were eyes on me, the night was also deathly quiet, with
only the sound of crashing waves on the beach accompanying me.
But soon enough, that wasn't the only sound I was hearing.
The sound came from the forest that ran parallel to the field
that divided the two cabins, and it caused my body to immediately
go into fight or flight and a chill to run down my spine.
The sound in question was my own voice coming from the tree line. 00:54:32,550 Come here, I want to show you
something. Whatever it was said in my
voice, though, it sounded slightly off, like it had been
recorded and played back. I originally thought that it was
just a figment of my imagination, so I rubbed my
ears, hoping that I wouldn't hear it again, But alas, it came
again. Come here, I want to show you
something. Exactly how it sounded before I
then got out of there. Remembering the many stories I
heard of Skinwalkers and how they can mimic voices, I ran
into the cabin. Closed the door that lead to the
balcony. Locked the door and closed the
window, hoping not to hear anything more.
I fell asleep after an hour, only to wake at 4:00 o'clock.
In the morning I heard a single heavy step make contact with the
bottom step of the metal stairs that lead to the balcony.
I ignored it and began blasting music into my ears through my
headphones, drowning out any other noises of the night.
I hope this would be it, but the climax came on the 3rd and final
night of our trip. The next day we went through the
daily activities once more and then night fell once again, but
we would be spending the night the last night of our trip
playing assassin, basically hide and seek in the woods.
Before we got together to play. Me and a decent sized group of
my classmates were hanging out in one of the larger fields
which had forest on three sides and the rest of the camp on the
other. We were laying out under the
stars when all of us heard it. It was a loud shrill screech.
Sounding like it was coming from very far away, I was reminded at
that moment that the further a skinwalker sounds from you, the
closer it is, while the closer it sounds, the farther away it
is. We then formed a defensive
circle with our flashlights on bright, scanning the field and
tree line looking for anything out of the ordinary.
Yet we were able to locate nothing.
It was tense for about a minute until our instructor and some
other students came towards our circle with their flashlights
on. Ready to play assassin, we were
assigned our roles and began to play, entered the woods and
began to play. Nothing happened during the
games or for the rest of our trip.
Thank God I only tell people about hearing my own voice, as
it's the easiest part of this series of events to describe to
people. Not even my fiance knows the
full story, only about my own voice calling to me.
If you ask the people in that defensive circle, they'll deny
that even happened. That we simply wanted to stand
like that in the field. Some of them will just flat out
deny that they even heard the shrieks.
I've consulted with my fiance, who is a very rational person
and looks at things from a scientific standpoint, trying to
rule out all plausible explanations, and even she was
completely stumped. She can't explain how I heard my
own voice calling me, as I have no record of having auditory
hallucinations. It was just bizarre, as I said
earlier. I believe I had a run in with a
skinwalker or similar creature, but I guess I won't be able to
find out as I'm never going to return to that camp.
If you decide to camp in the backwoods of Oregon, be careful
and watch your back because I fullheartedly believe that there
are very dangerous things in this world that make people
disappear. I will first say that this is
not my first encounter with something unnatural, as I've had
experiences with the supernatural before this.
For some context, I'm a student at a government funded trade
school on the Pacific Coast of the United States and these
occurrences have apparently been going on since before I even
arrived on campus. I will state first that there
are no wolves, coyotes, or stray dogs in the vicinity of the
campus, but we do get a large number of wildlife from black
tailed deer. Bald Eagles, crows, gulls, and
raccoons, as well as other critters.
My first experience with this entity was around two months ago
while I was living in my first dorm room close to midnight.
The room was the last room in the hall, and the large window
faced the thick forest that surrounded the campus.
One night while I was laying in bed, while my roommate was
asleep in the bed next to me, when I heard an odd sound coming
from the hallway outside of our room.
It sounded like claws clacking against the tile floor, a sound
I was used to hearing as my parents had a dog back home
whose claws would clack on the hardwood floor.
These sounded much heavier though and put me on edge as we
weren't even allowed to have dogs on center and that went for
the staff as well. And like I said earlier, there
are no wild canids here so this was utterly bizarre.
Why were these footfalls occurring and in the building
itself I was deeply concerned. So I woke my roommate and
explained to him what I had heard.
I thought he wouldn't believe me, but surprisingly, he did.
You heard it too, he said as I opened the door and looked into
the hallway, only to find nothing.
I remember asking him what he meant, and he proceeded to
explain how we had heard the same clacking at least three
times around the same time, and he even described hearing deep
howls echoing in the night. We began discussing and
hypothesizing on what we were both experiencing.
And concluded that we were both experiencing Hellhound activity
after ruling out all plausible and natural possibilities.
Our campus has a rich history of tragedy and loss, all within the
past 90 years of our campuses existence, which we felt was
attracting negative entities like our suspected Hellhound
onto Center. I then began asking around after
determining our culprit, trying to see if anyone else had
encountered or had an experience with what we had dubbed the
Hound. There was actually a surprising
number of people who had experienced the activity we did,
and even a guy who had even seen it.
By the time I finished asking around, I had at least 12
individuals from the dorms who had experiences with the Hound.
I wrapped up our investigation and things went back to normal
for about a week until the weekend rolled around.
I was laying in bed again with the window open when I finally
heard the sound I've been anticipating ever since My
roommate explained the howls he'd heard it was the howl.
Deep and guttural, just like he had described.
I told my roommate in the morning, and he believed me,
telling me that he'd even been awake and heard it too.
I've even consulted with my fiance, who looks at things
through a critical scientific standpoint, and even she came up
short with determining the identity of what we had
experienced. I'm fairly certain that this is
still a Hellhound, or at least another type of Ghost Dog, but
my roommate and I have since moved out of that room, and I
haven't experienced any activity since.