Speaker 1: I've been a National Park ranger for close to two decades.
Protocols have changed a lot in that time. I write
this just to try to keep people safe for the
next time you venture to the big outdoors. Let me
tell you about the last park I worked. I can't
be too specific about the location for my job's sake. Anyway,
we had clusters of campsites that we were heated annually.
The idea was to prevent one group from getting overused
and worn down, let nature regrow a little bit. The
winter had just passed and our big summer season was
a few months away. I'm sent out to check the
suitability of the camp sets, to decide which ones need
time to recover and which ones we can open up.
Windows here are cold. Not too many people camp during
the winter, aside from rugged mass kiss and boy scatchroops
lead by people who believe they are rugged mass kists.
I didn't expect to find much out of the ordinary.
The first site was clear and ready to go. As
I'm tracking to the next site, see what looks like
some debris and junk down aways in a river valley.
Looks like some jackasses set up an unofferous camp down there.
Usually when that happens, they leave garbage and smoldering fires.
This is going to be a pain to clear up.
I approach, seeing the telltale wreckage of what must have
been one hell of a party, two scattered everywhere. At
the skeletons of tents still raised up and blood. I stop,
and time stops with me. Pulls of blood ae bread
out along the ground, next to signs of something heavy
being dragged into the brush. I pull my radio off
my belt and palls. I then pull my glock twenty
two out of my holster and wreck one round. I'm
a certified law enforcement officer, but I haven't had to
use my gun in a long time. I quickly look
around for any movement, then get on my radio and
call in for backup. While I wait, I listen silence.
Silence in nature isn't good. Pray get quiet when they
sense a predator. I hope all the birds are being
still on my account. I edge forward, slowly looking for
anyone or anything. A shredded plastic coller tent that has
been annihilated with more blood splash in the walls and inside.
People died here. I know it. He can't lose that
much blood and just walk off, but no people. Shreds
of clothes and a little visser drawing all the goddam
flies here, but no people. I've seen bearers rummage through
camps and destroy anything that look gettable. There are wild
hogs here that contrails through the deep brush and are
even more dangerous than the bears. But this isn't either
of them. The devastation here is just too much. Some
scourge of God came through here and just ripped to
everything to pieces. Finally, beck Up arrives and I am
sent to report to h Q. They even brought Meddix
out here. I don't know why. There's no one here
to save one of the new recruit's vomits at the scene.
I'm glad to get the hell out of here. I
get back and eight shoes a buzz. Only four people
work here, but coals a ringing print of printing in
the air. Feels electrified. The manager sees me and signals
me to his office. He's pale ashen looking with bloodshot eyes.
I sit down by his desk and he goes to
the door or unlocks it. I've never seen him lock
that door. He asks me what I saw, I tell
him uninterrupted. He looks even paler afterward, and his hands
tremble a bit. There's a very long pause, and I
expect more questions. He doesn't ask any. I leave than
hear the door lock behind me. After a few minutes,
I hear him call some one up and a long,
low conversation ensues. I never see him again. Ward comes
down from on high. We are assigned a new manager,
one who excels at what he calls crises. His first
order of business a control burn of unauthor as camp,
and that sits closest to it. I'm not arguing. I
watch the smoke rise in the distance and pray that's
the end of it. New orders relocate the existing camp
site closer to h HU. Before we do that, we
stake out of futrail cameras at the new locations, just
to make sure it's not in the middle of a
nesting ground. We put up a few cameras pointed at
hob trails through the brush for good measure. A couple
of days pass and we go out to collect the footage.
The new manager takes it all and starts studying it
in his office. A couple hours into review, He freaks out,
start screaming and yelling, gets on the phone, COLLI up
the line, spitting more obscenities. He spends the rest of
the day and that night in the office calling up
specialists and planners. Next morning I show up for a meeting.
Manager doesn't look like he slept. Massive changes afoot. He
lays out our new plans, including massively bright lampus circling
the park border, as well as flood light around the
rangers station. Camp sites need to be moved even closer
in clear lines of sight from the light if possible.
A bud in telling him that defeats the point of
going camping, if you're just going on a short walk
through the grass, then setting up so close you can
see a parking lot. He tells me to shut up,
that it's just the start. The park now closes at sundown. Shop. Also,
we're now required to have a long gun on our
person at all times. Now it isn't uncommon for ranges
to carry an arminus fifteen or a romain to in
eight hundred seventy shot can going out in the deep woods.
There are wild and rabid animals out there. The real
concern are massive pot growers. These aren't your chill neighbor
who hides a few plants behind the tomatoes. They run
the spectrum from large scale supplies who like their privacy
and dislike law enforcement to untake government crazes who think
we have no right over them, the true patriots. Both
groups have a few common points. They tend to be
well armed, They do not like wall men, and they
won't shy away from taking a pot shot at some
dumpoor ranger who finds himself in the fields. Peep in
mind eliotness, mister a fotockapohene and one got scared off,
but in APPOPLLATIONI mungeners because they constantly sniped at him
in the foothills. They shoot to kill. Those are the
reasons we keep the big guns around, not routine patrols.
I drew the short straw and got the overnight shift.
Manager tells me more changes to protocol will be listed
when I return overnights. She used to be easy. Monitor
the radios, what's up the part as if needed, to
check for poachers if they are operating thereby, make sure
the forest doesn't burn down. I cocking and per instructions.
Go to the gun cage my things have changed. Our
shotguns have new rifle barrels so they can handle the
solid slugs we've been issued. That's the kind of fire
proyery you want to take down a charging bear. God
forbid you ever need it. The off of teens have
been stepped up too. The old fifteen round magazines have
been replaced by thirty round ones. Someone evens knock us
in hollow point rounds makes no damn sense shooting in
the woods. You need full metal jacket amos so the
rounds don't go wild when they touch a twig. Hollow
points just exist to do more tissue damage. This is ridiculous.
This is overkill. We're not a war zone. We don't
need this firepower. Next to the radio, there are new instructions.
Now we're not allowed to directly respond to emergency calls.
We can reply, figure out what the issue is, then
we report to a new phone number. I don't recognize.
Time passes slowly to night and not even allowed to
leave the building until sun up. A few in eventful
nights pass. The new floodlights and lampos solf frying my eyes.
It's so bright out that a blind man could see
a week later, some kids roll into the lot. They
grab their backpacks and start hiking up the ridge. I
know what they are up to. No one has booked
a campsite that night. Cheap young ones going on a
camp at that will be a raging party. I wait
for the sun to go down, confirming they not out
for a dhike. I call my manager to report. He
instructs me to call the new number. I report up
to them now. A curt voice answers the phone. He
asks my park, then pauses. He asks the issue. Bunch
of kids on in an authorized sight? Do I go
break it up? I can see the campfire at the
ridge right now? No? Do you not leave the building?
Do not attempt communication? That is all. Report if there
are any developments. Right after daybreak, the manager rides up.
It's real early. Have you seen them? Did they leave? No,
the car's still there. Let them rest. They're probably all
hung over. He curses non stop. He then goes inside
to make a call. I'm outside looking up the ridge.
When he exits the station, one arminus fifteen in his hand,
another one strap across his back block on his hip.
He marches single mindedly toward his car. I try to
ask him what in God's name he is doing? But
he isn't listening or responding. He takes a jerrykin of
gasoline from his car and marches up the ridge. I
yell after him, to no reply. I consider following him,
but that doesn't seem like a good idea. I go
back and side and call the number. The same crub voice,
the same direct questions, Yeah, the manager went up to
that campsite, armed to the teeth and carrying gasolene. What
the F do I do? Stay there? Do not interfere?
Back up is inbound? Report if there are any developments.
About the same time I start to see smoke wafting
off the ridge, two vounds ride into the lot at
a screaming speed. A dozen men, heavily armed and armored
eggs ait quickly. I go out to check. Who are
you guys? What's going on? The men are all lined
up with that impeccable military precision. One of them, a commander,
I assume, exists the vehicle last, he says, which to Russian?
Did he go? I mean he's up there? I point
at the increasing smoke. The men find out and stock
job up the ridge. I hear rifles cocking. As they leave.
I try to shout after them, but no response. I
look at the vans they came in, large, non script.
They just say deal. I response team on the side.
Half an hour or later they return, dragging the manager
with them. He has abandoned sip ties. He screams, I
did what needed to be done. Trust me, it's worse
than they thought. We can't stop this, burn it all.
They throw him in the back and sedate him. The
commander approaches me. My neck has bristle and coal fear.
I need to see the office, all computers and anything
that the hard drive is coming with me. He mentioned videotapes.
I need those two. I unlocked the doors and they
ransack the place. Everything gets taken. Printed reports from the
last few years disappear into those fans. The videotapes get
bout up and held by the commander himself. He studies
the gun cage. Cute, you're out of your league, he scoffs. Finally,
the found everything they looked for. The commander tells me
call the number, tell them it's contained. You need a
new superior. Also, don't talk about this to anyone. They
leave and just on key the fire brigade and a
few news vans show up. The fires contained. The news
reports say rumors of missing campers are unsubstantiated at this time.
Still the room is alone are enough to scare of
this season's campers. The quick change up of managers is
dropped up to bureaucracy. The press dies down after a
week or two. The new manager is very good at
dealing with them. Thankfully, with no new campers and are
now even shorter open hours, we can get more work
done around here. Rebuilding the station took some time, and
we just set up the new campsites. They are practically
spitting distance from the station. Nothing dramatic happens for a
few days. Then, on a whim, the manager tells us
to set up some cameras around the station and the campsites.
There's usually so much human activity around here. Only see
your some raccoons, maybe the rare hungry bab, but we
humor him and set them up all around. A couple
of days past, we collect the footage I play poko
with one of the rookies while the manager watches eyew
is a footage of an empty but brilliantly illuminated parking lot.
Then he gets to the footage around the station. Screams
come from the office. We bargein and he's stamping on
the camera, hard drives, gibbering things I can't understand along
the lines. Have told me it was clean, safe, no
recent activity. B yes here, I'm not going to do it.
He barks at us to leave. Later, he makes a
call Orke goes up to the door and listens in.
Rookie comes back reporting yea, he's demanding a transfer. Says
they lie to him, something about they didn't do their
job properly. He's not prepared or crypt here. Then I
just heard the phone click and some sobbing iurs. Later,
my manager exits the office. His shoulders are slumped, defeated.
We cut our eyes even further. Practically open on weekends only.
We'll have a full staff ready those days, but a
skeleton crewd of rest of the time. Campers are required
to check into one of the closest sites no campsite,
and they are to all to leave. We are not
authorized to leave the state after dark under any circumstances.
In an emergency, do not call nine hundred eleven. Call
the number and do exactly what they say. We draw
straws for who gets over night shifts. Why we need
to stay over night if we can't do anything is
beyond me. I asked the manager about it, and he
just said that stand up protocoll is to have someone
on hand to report any irregularities of a night. I
have to work my overnight shift. I keep my phone close,
the number dialed in ready if I need to call.
It is a bad night. I just wind up pacing
around with my shotgun, glancing into the bright floodlights, trying
to see what passed them. I hear crickets and it
relaxes me. Pray is quiet when predators are around. It
is a long night. The next night, my manager draws
a short straw. He seems resigned. In the end, we
all have to take a turn. He brings the bright
damn tactical flashlight i've ever seen. Said he bought it
just because he's afraid of the dark. He isn't, really,
he's afraid of the things in the dark. I get
a phone call up three him. It's him, get over
here now and bring guns. Whah, you have a damn
arsenal now. Oh, I swear to god, I'm messed up. Oh, man,
I think they were attracted to the light. I called
that number and all they said was back up would
be here in the morning. Oh god, Dawn, I hear
the piercing scacatto of gunshots. But pause, more gunshots, screaming, scuffling,
The lingo is dead. I called the number. A new
terse voice answers, Look, I work at X park. I
just got off the phone with X. I just spoke
with X. What can you report. Something bad happened. It's serious.
I heard gunshots. We will have back up there as
soon as possible. Did he say anything else? Yeah, he
said he thought they were attracted to the light. Doesn't
make sense to me. Interesting. Thank you for your report.
The park is now closed. You will be reassigned. Good bye. Click. Officially,
the park was closed to be scheduled for a controlled burn,
let the old trees die and make room for new ones.
There was nothing in the official report about what happened
to the manager on duty. The public understanding was bureaucracy's
need to be shaken up on occasion. No one asked
any more questions. I get to transferred to a new park
half way across the country. Change of sceniory and beautiful.
They've got some odd rules here too, don't go far
after dark and don't carry a flashlight. I'm concerned about
why why can't you use a flask light at night
when you need one? They won't tell me be safe
every one. When I was a park ranger, they were
hiding something from the public behind a barbed wi fence
and a park ranger for a national park in the US,
and this story and going to tell you has been
hidden for years by my superiors, but now I shall
finally bring it to the light. When a first got
this job, they were very straightforward with answering all of
my questions until we were driving along one of the
dirt roads. Off in the distance, I spot a barb
why fence surrounding an area of land on the side
of a mountain. What's that fence for, I asked, while
observing it from a var The park ranger that was
showing me around looked to where I was pointing, and
I could sense feared by the way his eye slightly
it grew wider. He focused back on the road and said,
that's nothing, just a place to protect the wild life
and plants that live there from getting trampled on by hikers.
His response made sense to me because I've heard of
other areas being blocked off to protect the plants and such,
but his body language was holding something for me. However,
I didn't want to be annoying you guys, so I
just replied with, OK, makes sense to me. The man
tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he stated, yeah,
just make sure to keep people in yourself far away
from that area entirely, you know, to protect the plants.
Feeling a sword of awkward silence between us, I replied
saying we'll do, but if I may ask, what plants
be sesarly trying to protect an the fence. The man's
face scrunched up as he thought about how to respond.
He then just said to me, you'll find out later
what's back there, but you haven't been here long enough
for us to trust that you won't tell anyone about it,
so just hold your horses. After hearing as, I slumped
in my seat and listened to the rest of the
tour of the area. When we got back to the
ranger's station, everyone was welcoming me and introducing themselves. On
One man in particular stood out to me. He had
sort of Santa Claus physique with especially white beard that
had own his small remnants of a gray color to it.
When I shook his firm hand, he told me his
name was poor Jeere, but he goes by Ranger Paul.
He was the main one in charge of foreseeing this
particular national park. Sir. He took me into his office
to give me all of the gear that I would need,
along with a schedule. What made you want to be
a park ranger, kiddo, he asked as he signed some
documents that laid on top of his desk. Taking a
second to think about how to respond, I then said,
you know, I enjoyed the odors and thought it would
be both fun and interesting to be a park ranger.
He looked up from signing papers and said, are you
easily scared? This question caught me off guard and wondered
why he was asking me that anyway, and I had
to respond, so I said, I'm not really scared of
that much. Maybe bears. Ranger poulskoughed after hearing the saying,
bears bears are the least bit of your warriors. Here
we lose far more people who've gotten lost in the
woods than people who've been mauled by bears. He pauses
and looks out the window as he continues, it's the
woods you have to worry about. How many people go
missing here a year, I asked, trying to avoid an awkwards.
Too many is all I can say. If it was
for that dawn pull stop mid sentence and turned to me.
You'll see, he muttered, as the park ranger who was
showing me around previously walked into the room and pulled
me out, taking me to sign all of the required
paperwork work. As I was signing, I could barely hear
him talking to range a Pole saying something along the
lines of he nearly told him what's out there before
he even signed the non disclosure agreement. The rest of
their conversation got muffled after the door closed completely. I
was honestly intrigued to figure out what they were hiding
beyond that fence. After that, I took every chance I
could get to find out as much as I could
about it, but no one budged on what they originally
told me until I had worked there for about three months.
That's when Ranger Paul decided I should know what was
behind fence. He pulled me into his office on the
stormy day when we weren't checking if people had paid
for the camp and tickets, and said, I know you've
been interested to figure out what was behind at fence,
and you will, but promise me that you will never
tell another soul about it. I promised, and he continued,
You're not going to like what I'm going to tell
you because it's quite anticlimactic. The reason we have the
fence to keep people out is that there is a
stream of water up there that just pops out of
the ground from some source within the mountain itself and
flows for about twenty feet before it again disappears back
into the mountain. I interrupted, saying, that's really not that unusual.
I mean, it could just be a spring popping out
from the ground. Paul raised his hand up to quite
me as he continued saying, you're right, but that's not
what's unusual about this. The water, it flows a stream.
It goes against gravity and all other forces of nature
as it flows upward in the mountain for twenty feet.
But Blaxton intrigued at the same time, I said, really,
if it does wipe put a fence around such a
scientific marvel, people would come across the world to see it.
Ranger Paul smiled as he said, that's what they first
insisted on doing. But that place ain't right. It's cursed
or something. I asked him what he meant, and he
responded by saying most of the people who discovered went
missing and were never found. Those were the lucky ones.
For the ones that didn't go missing, they somehow were
morphed into deformed humanoids without the capability to speak. One, however,
could slightly speak, and all he said was Hell's Entry.
After he said this, I knew he had have been
playing a prank on me, to haze me or something,
but his expression never changed as he said that water
going against gravity is some sort of an enigma. The
place is like the Bermuda Triangle, a sort of place
trapped between dimensions, prap like that. The government tried to
study it, but after losing half of the scientists who
were researching it, they gave up on it, leaving it
locked up behind that fence. As he went on, I
didn't know if I should have believed him or not,
because it was so outlandish of an idea. When a
storm clouds moved out of the area. Ranger Paul sent
me back out to check if people had paid for
the campgrounds, leaving me with this last sentence to endeavor
go over that fence. A few days Sin passed by
after this, and I couldn't deal with the explanation that
Paul gave to me. It just didn't make sense, and
so one night I snuck out and decided to heck
over to the fenced area. I took a pair of
wire cutters to cut through the fence because I didn't
want to try and climb over the bob wire that
was wrapped around the top of it. When I finished
cutting out a small hole I would be able to
fit in, I brightened my flashlight as I heard the
trickling of water. Following the sound, I sin stumbled upon
the stream at its men magnificent beauty. When I shine
my flashlight at the water, it was almost as transparren
as glass. Ranger Paul was making the whole thing up
when he said the water went backward against gravity. To
my utter amazement, I reached my hand down into the
stream and felt the push of the water towards the
top of the mountain. I was elated due to abuseful
it was, and wondering why any one would ever want
to hide something like this. As I was touching the water,
I heard something splash in the water, and glancing over,
I saw a man crouched over on all fours with
his back to me. Startled by the man's presence and
wondered if he was lost, I got back on my
feet and walked toward to him. Are you lost, sir,
I asked? As I placed my hand on his shoulder.
His head turned around to meet my gaze, and my
hat stopped. All he had done. His pale, blank face
was a mab full of sharp edged teeth. Stumbling backward,
I fell into the stream, which felt strange as he
tried to push me up the mountain until I pulled
myself out. The thing didn't move at all, but just
sat there, mumbling fragmented sentences. Freaked out, A dotted to
where I came, and the thing somehow since my sudden
movements and inhumanly crawled after me. He climbed into a
nearby tree and tried to pounce on me. All the
while I could hear it say in an uneven tone,
and save me, ell Eates freaking out. I noticed that
the ground underneath me was shifting and gravity was coming
in and out. The world around me seemed to change
back and forth, but I kept in the same direction
and saw the fence ahead of me where I cut
the hole out of. It kept changing from a fiery
cave wall back to the fence until I quickly made
it there, but it was a cave wall by then.
There was no way for me to escape now until
it swiftly changed back for a fragment of a second.
Taking the opportunity, I jumped through the hall and the fence,
and the thing tried to follow after meat, but didn't
make it through the screen. Still keep me awake at
night after this range of Paul later found out about it,
but didn't fire me on the spot. Instead, he said,
after being in there, you are the last person on
earth who would ever want to go back in, so
I'm not going to fire you. He did instead gave
me all of the crappy jobs for two months afterward.
That happened around four years ago. But still, I'm not
supposed to be pushing this story here due to the
non disclosure agreement I signed. I guess I just broke
that agreement because I need to warn everyone that if
you find a random area in the woods fenced off,
whatever you do, don't try to break into it. You
might not make it back. Hello. My name is Ashki,
and I'm a Native American who has taken of a
park ranger from my father who passed away from cancer.
A family has lived in this region of Tennessee for generations. Hell,
it was my great x four grand ad who was
the park ranger here in the first place, so getting
the jaw as easy for his descendants. When I was little,
my great grandad used to tell me bedtime stories of
how him and his father used to go out into
the forest and hun dun creatures not of this earth.
I thought it nothing but tall tales, and I just
wrote them off. It wasn't until I was seventeen when
I first saw something truly unexplainable. It was the middle
of the night. I had woken up to a loud
crashing into what was next to our house. I looked
up my window to see something terrifying. What I saw
showed my perception on reality. It appeared to be a gorilla,
but this thing was about ten feet tall and had
to weigh about four hundred fifty pounds. It had monstrous
hands and was covered head to toe in black, matted hair.
But the most shocking thing was it was walking on
two feet behind it it dragged a gigantic brown bear
that the spear had to been beaten and bloody, as
if the thing beat it with its bare hands, and
dragged it as if it was a ragged all through
the edge of the forest before went deeper into the forest.
It looked directly at me with this amber glas growing eyes,
and in a midlight, I could tell that its teeth
were sharp and jagged. I quickly ducked under my window seal,
but in you it had saw me. I didn't sleep
that night. I stayed up all night watching my window
just to make sure it didn't come back to get me.
I didn't tell anybody what is or do to me,
thinking it being nothing more than a dream. The next morning,
but it changed when I overheard a conversation between my
great grandad and granded saying that they found the skull
and a monster of skeleton of a giant bare twenty
three miles into the woods. That was two years ago.
I amanteen, and I've taken up the job as a
pock ranger. Ever since I took the job at a teen,
strange things have happened. For instance, last night, I went
out for expedition into the forest just to look around
the area. I did this at a bad time, because
before I knew it, it was pitch black outside. I
was ten miles into the woods when I noticed glowing
red ops watching me from the trees. I quickly took
out my rifle and took cover behind some fallen lumber.
When I heard a distinct humming noise. That was when
the glowing red robed multiplied. Didn't sex jobbins. My father
used to tell me stories of these creatures there. As
peaceful as it can be, they are almost kind. In fact,
the humming noise was a song. I quickly plugged my
ears because the song, the singing, will enable you to
enter sleep, or if you're already sleeping, you'll be unable
to wake up. My father theorized that the frequency to
give off lock your brain state of a waight. To
avoid any one from following this fate, I led a
stick and waved it around in the air to make
them know that the presence was not needed. Here, and
so this scatter glowing quite beautifully in the starry night.
The other reason why I added was because not only
could they put you in a coma, but although let's say,
creatures of this region find the jabins very delicious, and
wouldn't you know it, as soon as I was about
to leaf cover, there was a rumbling coming from four
miles into the woods. I put on my night vision
goggles and spotted a boulder bear I could the thought
to be extinct short face bear. The short face bear
was the largest and most powerful uncarnivore in North America
during the Ice Age. This thing must have have weighed
about fifteen forty pounds and stood about ten feet on
two feet. It sported a deep red claw mark on
its face and had teeth the size of steak knives
and fur as dark as the night sky. I was
in deep pouh. Here this thing could run circles around
any horse. I had no chance of escaping, or so
I thought, slowly lumbering toward the bear was a monster
of a bigfoot. This thing was about eight feet tall
weight could have weighed about eight hundred pounds. And if
you want to know about bayfoot's know this and remember
it well. They are very territorial. What happened next was
a scene right out of a King Con movie. The Bigfoot,
while beating his chest, let out a howl of intimidation,
and the base stood on two feet and roared a
roar that shook the forest and silenced any crickets for
in six singing a nightly song. They charged at each other,
but before I could see anything else, I booked it.
I took one look back and saw the Bigfoot tossed
monster of the bay through four trees. That only made
me run faster. I made it back to my cabin
at five hundred. I stayed up that whole morning, sitting
on my couch with my shotgun and pistol loaded in
my hand and pointing at the door in case the
victor of that match was looking for a new opponent.
The next day was when I got the radio call
about the missing campers and hikers that have gone missing
in my area of the woods. I packed my bags
for a long tip into the wilderness, expecting to find
what was behind the current of hikers and campers not
coming back. I planned to a hike thirty miles into
the forest on the first ten miles, I started to
find back backs ripped to shreds, intents reduced to nothing.
But I took out my pistols and started to walk
further into the forest, keeping my head on a swibble.
Fifty miles and I started to find body parts, arms,
and legs littered the trails, but one blood trail stood
out to me. I followed it about three miles into
the woods and found a horrible sight. It was a man.
He had been skinned alive and as I were missing
from what I could tell, his legs had been broken
and he had been crucified on a makeshift cross. He
had been cut in the corners of his mouth to
display a sadistic smile, and he had been held up
by some sting to make it look at if he
were looking at me. I slowly walked away from the man,
not wanting to get any closer. The thing that bothers
me the most was that every time I turned my
back to him, I would hear a twisted child's giggle
coming from the corpse. I walked further into the woods
and decided to make a makeshift camp in a cave
close by a water source so I could bath and
possibly fish for more food. After two rows of fishing,
I had caught some meaty catches and prepared them and
cooked them on the roaring flame of my camp fire.
But even though I was concentrating on not burning, the
fisher could tell that I was being watched. I looked
up from the flame and saw a man, but an
ordinary man. He would be a man of first golfe ants.
But as I studded him more, I noticed his twisted features.
He was tall and had long hair passed his shoulders.
His eyes glowed a bright yellow, and his hands were
massive with and trim nails. He smiled at me, and
his teeth were sharp and yellow as a stick of butter.
He called to me, a little lost AUNTYA, why don't
you put up that camp? I saw, I can help
you find your way out in a raspy cigarette smoke
of voice. His voice was deep, and I felt it
in my bowels. I liked him in the eyes, and
threw down a log on the fire, which made it
roar and grow baker, and the creature let out a
cry and stumbled back. Thank God, I took a fish
off where it would have been burned. I thought, why
don't you just come and sit at the camp fire
with me, I said, as I patted in the empty
place in the lock. Next time, while sporting a grin,
You're a call for coming out here to steep into
the forest alone, and I'll make you realize that, sinner
or later, the creature said, in voice full of hate,
and then he left, walking with an unnatural gait into
the forest. I stayed awake all night, keeping the fire
alive and my shot gun loaded in my lap. I
knew that if it had gone out, I wouldn't be
making it. The next morning, when sunset came, I went
into my tent and fell asleep, keeping an ear out
for any nights. There have been stores of wild men
roaming deep in the forest, but to meet one is
a whole different feeling of fear. I woke up at
twelve hundred p m and continued hiking. At mile twenty,
I have found an abandoned cabin. Nothing seemed to be
wrong with it, and when I went inside of it,
it appeared to be normal and untouched. Besides being covered
in cubbobed saw. I made base here. It was a
small cabin, just one bed and one bathroom and a
half kitchen. I sat at the table and took out
a field guide to the area and started to read
up on the other creatures that could be looking around here.
It was night when I finished, and heard a weird
nose outside of the window. Thank god I turned the
lights off before it got to dark, because right outside
my window I saw old man wandering the forest. I
thought it to be strange that any one besides me
to be this deep out here. I wanted to open
the door and offer to help, But then notice this
was a very tall old man and was wearing the
skin of a mountain, lying on his back, and was
dragging a human body behind him. He was walking towards
the cabin mine, I thought. I hid under the couch
with my pistol in hand and threw my stuff in
the bathroom and closed the door. He opened the door
in slander shut He was sniffing the air like a
dog who smells feud. He knows I'm here, I thought,
But then he growled and just walked toward the table,
dragging a mangled human body behind him. I wanted to
let out a breathe of relief, but I knew that
if I did he find me, he then threw the
corpse and the table I was reading at, and I
started to hear sounds of gnawing, ripping, and tearing. From
what I could see, he was eating the human body.
And when he was done, he stood in the middle
of the cabin and started brooding heavily. He fell on
his knees and started shifting into a monster of a
mountain lion. His once human hands turned into gigantic, terrible
paws with arth that could cut through diamond. His fur
was jet black with what appeared to be red stripes
in the ankles of his massive mountain lion legs. He
cracked a wood four of the cabin as he walked in.
When he roared, he shattered every window in the cabin.
He ran out the door, shattering it into pieces and
talking off into a tree deep in the woods. That
was four hours ago, and ever since then, I've been
sitting on this couch and shark every once in a while,
looking at the poor campers body, his poor mangled body.
The skin walker had eaten every organ and it left
it a husk. I know what must be done, but
the question is do I have the gust to do
it right now? I've made a plan to take the
skinwalker out, but I don't know if I could possibly
defeat something so evil and ancient. The stor is that
my family have told me of skinwalkers, have made them
seem like an unstoppable force of the evils of this world.
But there is a way to kill it. When the
sun was in the middle of the sky, I went
to go find some wolf's pain. I then liquefied it
to saturate my bulletin and sharpened and then coated my
MACHETI in it. I thank god my father for only
using silver round and silver machete for when he was
in charge, but the cost must have been very expensive.
I got my pistol and shotgun at the ready, and
I am hiding under the bed of the cabin. Everything's
in place. I don't know if I'll make it, but
just in case, I don't agin oppose this now, and
it's a good thing I'm posting this now too. I
just heard the silver bear trap coated in wolf spain
I placed in the living room go off in a
roar of a creature that's not too happy that some
one has found its lair. Hat to Hello, it's me again,
ask ye. Now, I bet you wondering how the hell
did I make it out alive? Well, I'll tell you.
After the Skinwalker had fallen for the silver bear trap,
I busted up from my hiding place and loaded it
with the special bullets I made. But it still had fight,
and it had grabbed me and threw me through a window.
I wrapped around a tree. I got my arm impaled
on the shop rock, but I could tell it to
coal with its strength. Silver and wolfspin are excellent for
fighting monsters such as these. It drains this stamina, and
if they have a healing factor, it's no longer able
to use it. He then rushed me and with the
branch I took out of my arm, I swung it
and it connected with its chin, dazing it. After I
got up, I saw the skin Walker sluggishly crawling into
the forest. I limped over and out a bullet right
into its brain. But I knew that wouldn't be a
definite way to kill it. I had to take out
the heart and burn it on a fire, or else
it would come back for round. After I did that,
it turned to dust and blew away into the night.
After that, IKES haled deeply, and limped back to the cabin, closed,
unlocked the door, and passed out on the couch. I
woke up nine hours later, tended it to my wounds,
and headed back to my main base, noting that this
cabin could be of use in the future. About ten
miles into my walk, I was approached by hiker. We
exchanged greetings, had to come, and I even decided to
let him walk with me. His name was Bal. After
ten minutes of walking, he offered me some food. It
looked delicious, almost to delicious. I looked at it and
looked at him, and he was grinning. I then took
out some silver powder and blew it in his face.
It relieved his true form of Baqua back was office
ghost food out of cockle shells to human stranded in
the woods. If they accept a need the offered food,
then the two become a ghostly being like backwards. I
pointed my pistol at the monster, who took the form
of a tall old man and threatened that if I
ever saw him again, he would die and he wouldn't
have to be worried offering food any more. He took
off deep into the woods to never be seen by me. Again,
and I kept walking, finally reaching my cabin and retiring
to my bed to rest. The next morning, I got
a call from an unknown radio signal about strange sighting
about a man wearing a moose skull as a mask.
I took it to be tweaker who found a dead
moose and head out to take care of it. The
location the man was sighted was in a map of
region of the woods, so I thought it odd that
he had gotten that far. As soon as I got there,
I found a hiding place behind the log come waited
for him to come. About ten s European. The man
showed up in the midlight. I could see this was
no man. It was a wendigo. This thing was extremely
gaunt and emisiated, with gray skin, sunken red eyes, tattered lips,
and possessed a deathly odor. A wendigo greedily feet on
human flesh. However, for each person it consumes, the monster
grows ever larger, and this thing had to be at
least nine feet tall, with long hair reaching to the
middle of its back and sharp, blood drenched claws. It
sniffed there it knew I was here. I thanked God
that I had mus shotgun. I then jumped out my
hiding spot and let it up a silver buck shot
it scared in agony. It sounded like a woman's scream
mix with an angry cat. It then took a small
tree and hit me like a batter hitting a baseball Vaughn.
I flew fifteen feet and landed on a pile of
human bones. This thing needed to be killed. If left alive,
it would go on to eat and grow stronger. So
as it came charging me, I ducked and it hit
the sit of a large rock, cracking at skull and
stunning it. I took the chance to pick up and
slam it on its head, lowered its heart full of
silver shotgun shells, and then poured the liquid wolfbin into
its opening chest cavity. I thought this thing smelled bad
when it was alive, but when it died few this
thing smell terrible. I made a large fire and burned
what was left. That night, I was pretty far into
the forest, so I made camp near water and started
to fish. I caught some pretty big fish and took
care of my wounds from the previous night. I even
decided to take a bath. Smelling later at sunset. I
started to get the fish when a rustling came from
the woods. Before I could react, it while jumped out
of the brush and snarled at me. I was defenseless.
This thing was ten feet on two legs and on
all fours, stood six feet tall. It had a large
mouth and black foe with white marking on it. Its
piercing yellow eyes started into my soul, and then it
took three of the big fish I caught, and ran
into the woods, badder me than the fish. I thought
at this was Willa territory. Then I didn't want to
be around here, so I packed my bats out of
my fire and took off from my camp. At night.
On my walk, I heard strange noises. I heard whispers
in the night, and I even heard a woman's scream
from above me. I heard a child's scream help me,
and then added something I shouldn't have. I looked up
and I saw it a stick Indian. It had been
following me for myles, just waiting for me to notice it.
Stick Indians are seldom seen. They are almost completely nocturnal,
and it is said that their language does not mimic
human speech, but instead sounds like birds. And other animals.
They also have powers to paralyze, hypnotize, or cause insanity
and hapless humans, while another's they merely lead people astray
by making newer sounds of whisting all after in the
woods at night. In some stories, stick Indians may eat
people who fulpary to them, kidnap children. They also take
aggress of revenge against people who injure or disrespect them,
no matter how unintentionally. This thing was tall, had long
arms with big hands that ended with long claws, and
red eyes. It had a face like a tote and pole,
and had a hepnoty going on with its eyes. I
knew I was in trouble. I took off as fast
as I could, and the stick Indian was close behind me,
swinging in the trees, branch to branch. It swung at
me and got the back of my neck, but I
ket running. Luckily, I was by my old cabin and
took cover and locked the door. It was beating on
the door in time was running out. I had dropped
my weapons while running from this thing and had nothing
to defend myself. I then remembered that I had left
some silver brass knuckles in the night stand in a bedroom. Also,
I had found old tomahawk, but it was still sharp.
I took out the last of my liquid Wolf Spain
and coated the knuckles and the tomahawk with it. I
have a slim chance of beating this thing, so I
decided to post this before fight night went down. The
door just slammed open and the locks of rolling on
the floor. If I make it, I'll post Hollas arrive
this fight, but if I don't, you'll know fare well
be safe. My son disappeared under odd circumstances, and he
left this journal behind. My son is was a regular
here and I'm hoping you'll be able to help me.
I really don't know what else to do at this point.
Allow me to explain. My son Zac was irregular here
for several years. Judging from his post history, he spent
a lot of time reading stories and submitting his own
on occasion. He disappeared almost a month ago, and no
one really knows what to make of it. He departed
for a solo hunting trip on September twelve, twenty twenty one,
in an isolated area inside Grant Head and National Park, Wyoming.
That was the last time he's been seen. His chevista
was found part along Lupan Meadow's Road just south of
Jenny Lake. His camp site was found some five miles
east of his truck. His tent was torn and a
lot of his supplies were rants at by what police
belief wildlife or possibly done by Zach himself. A search
team sky at that area for weeks, and my ex
husband and I went down to search as well. We
never found any trace of him outside of his camp,
and no one has an explanation for what happened to him.
A lot of people believe he was dragged off by animals,
but I think it may be something far stranger than that.
Zack kept a handriton journal which was found inside his
knapsack in a tent. Police think he suffered some kind
of mental breakdown, and I'll be the first to admit
that the things he wrote about are not easily believed.
Sax struggled with anxiety and depression, but as far as
I were any one as aware, he never had any
conditions that could induce something like psychosis. I also wholeheartedly
believed that he wouldn't kill himself, as he's seen firsthand
how devastating that can be. His cousin tragically committed suicide
a few years ago, and Zach had the horrific duty
of being a first person to find him. He's always
been open with me about his struggles, and after that happened,
he swore he would never put me or any one
else through that. I realized that life is how sometimes,
and there's always a chance that he went back on
their promise. But I believe that he wouldn't do that.
I think something happened to him, something that none of
us yet understand. Authorities have called off the search now,
and Zak's disappearance remains an unsolved case. I don't know
where else to turn at this point. But since Sach
spent so much time on the site, I thought it
only appropriate to share what he wrote in his journal.
I think it's what he would have wanted, but I
cannot verify any of its content. Maybe someone out there
can connect the dots. But if nothing else, maybe Zac's
journal can entertain you all one last time. I like
to think it's what he would have wanted. Entry one. Finally,
it's here, and not a godamn moment too soon. I
swear to God, if I had to hear Jennifer ask
me to stay late for another p M order I
would have put on her desk at the next budget meeting.
I've been looking forward to this trip for months, and
my therapist suggested keeping this key the little journal to
document my trip. They keep saying I have anger issues,
but they really wouldn't be so much of a niche
if people want so stupid. But whatever, Time to forget
about all all that for a few days. Hopefully I'll
be able to look back on this in the future
rather than fantasizing about jumping in a trash compactor during
another work week. Then was supposed to be with me
on this trip, but of course he got wrangled into
dealing with his kid instead. Yet another reason I'm glad
to be single. I'll be out snagging myself a trophy buck. Wow,
he's at home changing diapers his loss, I guess. Anyways,
I don't even know why I started writing this now
and not even there yet. Probably got at least another
five hours to go at I give a two max
until that Carl's Junior Burger is knocking at the back door.
Here's to finally getting away for a bit and hopefully
being able to relax. Entry two, Well, I think I
finally managed to find myself a good spot. It's a
nice little place too, flops like I think they call
it kind of a weird name, but it's a serene
little spot. Son's just going done now, and I've got
my tent all set up. Nothing to do now but
puff on the cigar and drink a couple beers. My
buddy Tim says this place is an excellent area to
get some deer. He pointed me to a spot about
five miles northeast and claims it's where he got the
ten point rack over his firebla's mantle. Tomorrow, I'm going
to start my hike in that direction and see what happens.
Wish me luck. Entering three. I officially hate ducks, not
that I ever really was a huge fan of them
to begin with, but now our relationship is truly unsalvageable. Tierman,
I'm trying to get some sleep when all I hear
is a ruckus of quacks coming from the lake. Bok
those fety bastard's ever sleep. I tried ignoring it, but
the noise was like nails on the chalkboard of my brain.
Something about it just reallyer at me, and I couldn't
blot it at. After like five minutes of the onslaught,
I finally stepped outside the tent. The moonbeamed a pearly
glowed down from the heavens, reflected off the surface of
the lake like one giant effervescentt mirror in the misty
early morning haze. I just managed to see the little
silhouetes that the flock of flagrant fowl happily putting across
the lake. I looked to my side, planning to grab
a rock and lobb it in their general direction in
hopes of scaring them off. I pause when something caught
my eye on top of my stoved up something sat.
It's long neck shimmered in the dew, and it's edy
little black eye stared back contemptiously, as if challenging me
to a duel. Clack, the nerve of the sky comes
right up into my camp while his belligerent flock are
out vaulting around the lake, and sits right on my
damp stove top. Damn bird's got balls of steel, I'll
give him there. Clack duck soups started sounding like an
excellent breakfast. Then I slowly crept back to my tent,
retrieving the nineum from my back. I drew it out,
but before I could take aim, the bird suddenly took flight.
I heard it flap and quacked fat lad as it
sowed back to join the rest of the water chickens. Yes,
his balls ain't so big after all. By that point,
I knew sleep was no longer an option, and I
would be up for dawn in an hour or two anyways,
so I decided to just brew some coffee and start
the day. Sun's about to rise now, so I should
probably get moving and pry for well. I'm a pretty
good time to day. I got blisters on my feet,
soars on my shoulders, and my coveralls are filthy. Took
a gnarly face blend in the mud as I was
crossing the creek, but no worse for the wear my
three hundred. It got a little drench but it'll dry out,
I hope. The important thing is that I think I've
found the spot that Tin told me about. Trail crests
right on top of this hill, leaving a wide open
grove down in front of me. The field stretches for
at least a couple hundred yards and the hill gives
me the perfect vantage point. It's a beautiful spot. Now,
if I can just get some bucks to show up,
I'll be in business. I thought this spot was absolutely perfect,
but not long after I arrived, some old friends came
and found me. I heard the commotion of crackslawn before
I saw them, as sure enough, the flock landed ride
in the field, done beyond a hill. Little feathery bastards
just at the quacking up a storm now like they
own the damp place. This may sound crazy, but I
swear one of them is staring at me. It looks
like the others, brown and white with a green head,
but this one has a black strip running down its
left side. Its beady, little black eyes don't even seem
to blink. I swear it's the same exact when that
landed on my stove up early this morning. Hopefully they
just leave before morning, otherwise this dear hunt is going
to quickly turn into a duck hunt. Count risks them
spooking the real prize entry five. Damma. I feel like
such an idiot, but at the same time it's kind
of hilarious. I won't lie so last night I ate
some dinner and then crawled into my tent to get
some shut eye. Fell asleep for a while, but part
way through the night I randomly woke up. I checked
my phone and realized they could sleep a bit longer.
I was on the verge of doing just that when
I heard something outside my tent. It sounded like the
slight pitt patter of footsteps. I tried telling myself it
was just normal for ust ambience, but it kept going.
I started to grow nervous and was about to reach
for my gun when something suddenly struck my tent. The
tent rippled from the impact, and something fluttered away into
the distance. I was on the verge of pissing myself
and turning the tent into Swiss cheese with my nainum,
when suddenly I heard something familiar clack. A wave of
conflicting emotions rolled over me, confusion, talk, angha, disbelief. But
one then circumvented them all Carmody commddy. All I could
do was laugh at that point. I mean, I could
have ran outside and unloaded my clip on that damn goose,
but that definitely would have scared off the deer. I'm
willing to bet it's the same exact one that tried
stabbing me down all or two whatever. I'm going back
to bed now. Entrying six to day. Started out great
walk up just before the break of dawn and got
to my prime spot on the top of the hill.
The sunset crested over the valley about half an hour later,
and I was finally where I always want to be.
Cracked a beer and saluted the early morning sun, considering
it was already five o'clock a m. That is. But whatever,
a bit of booze always helped steady my hand. Anyways,
sat up there until well pass noon, keeping myself occupied
with the steady diet of beef, jerky, sunflower seeds and
miller light. That's when I saw the grass rustling on
the far end of the prairie. I slumped down and
clutched my rifle, stirring out as several figures stepped out
from the trees. I counted three dozen five fns that
slowly sauntered out from the thicket. They began grazing on
the far side of the pasture, about two hundred yards
from my position. I prayed for a buck to be
leading their herd and hunkered down. As I watch, they
grazed for a solid three irows, but the buck never showed.
One of the others then suddenly drooped her ears, and
the entire herd suddenly dashed back into the woods. I
guess something spooked em, and that pretty much marked the
end of my day. I got back down to my
camp and prepared to cook myself a nice hearty, chilly
and drum my frustrations in Jack Daniel's. Only problem was
I couldn't find my stove top anywhere. I spent at
least an hour looking for it, but it's just not here.
I don't get it. I used it early this morning
to cook breakfast. I'm too tired to worry about it
at this point. It's getting dark and I'm exhausted. At
least if I can't go to bed on a full belly,
I can knock myself out with some lequer entry seven. Okay,
so I'm trying not to freak out here. I know
I'm probably just being ridiculous, but I really just can't
seem to calm myself down. That bird won't leave me alone.
I didn't sleep at all last night. Every time I
felt I was getting close out here, that familiar, lonesome quack.
It was like that dawn bounee when I was about
to finally fall asleep, and interrupted it just to piss
me off. I finally grabbed my pistol and stomped out
of my tent, but I didn't see it anywhere. Things
haven't gotten much better since then. When dawn finally I
decided to abandon any notion of sleep altogether, I hobbled
out of the tent and kindled a fire to brew
myself some coffee. That's when I first noticed it. Now,
I'm not one hundred percent sure about this, but I'm
down close. That's where my tent had moved, about ten
feet away from where I had set it up. It
was staked down and on flat ground, so it didn't
slide down all or something. Not to mention the fact
that I had literally been awake the entire night and
hadn't felt it move. Part of me thinks I'm just crazy,
but another, even louder parts says I'm not. I don't understand,
but as of right now, I'm going to just chalk
it up to exhaustion and me not remembering properly, which
has been known to happen. Got three more days out
here before I got a start heading back, but I'm
not even going to try and get a buck to day.
My head is throbbing, and I keep nodding my head
as I'm trying to write this. I really need a nap.
Entry it some one is out here messing with me.
I'm almost sure of it now. It would honestly explain
a lot of what's been happening. The missing stove, to
up the moved tent. I don't know how they're doing it,
but I'm down near positive that all of this is
more than coincidence. Shortly after my last entry, I passed
out in my camping chair by the fire. Some hours later,
I woke up and gulfed by the caustic smoke of
smoldering ashes. I broke into a fit of coughs and
quickly rolled out of the line of fire. After my
eyes finally stopped watering and for it stopped burning, I
managed to a climate quake. There he was again, only
about twenty yards away from me, staring contemptuously with beady
black eyes. That was the final straw. My former irritation
gave way to upright rage with my pistol at my side.
I quickly whipped it out and named towards his silhouette.
He didn't flinch, and I pulled the trigger. My nine
arms enstried into that little winged demon, erupting with a
plume of feathers. He fell off the log, flapping and
quacking in distress, before falling silent. A moment later, a
sense of triumph washed over me, and I jumped to
my feet, relieved and proud that I had finally vanquished
my harasser. I walked over to where he had fallen,
and the feeling evaporated, replaced without a confusion. The bullet
appeared to have struck the creature in the low abdomen,
tearing a hole in its gut. Its intestines were dangling
out of it in little coils. At last, that's what
I thought they were. I moved him for a closer
look and could scarcely believe what I was seeing. It
wasn't entry ill's hanging out, it was wires. I poked
it with a stick, and so all manner of l
ed in circus within the duck, which had to ask me,
was a damn robot. Screw this trip, I think it's
time to leave. Entry nine. Well, I'm still here, still
haven't left. It's been probably three hours since I wrote
my last entry. The sun has gone down now, so
that's not great. Not that I'll even be able to
sleep at this point, that's just what they want me
to do. These last few hours have allowed me to
contemplate my situation, and I think I've figured it, at
at least part of it. That thinner shot was obviously
not a duck, and I realized it's got to be
some kind of drone, a surveillance robot designed to look
just like a normal duck in order to blend in
an observe And since it is a drone, that means
someone had to have built it. Drawing technology has obviously
advanced quite a lot in the last few years, but
I had no idea it had gotten this good. The
thing behaved exactly like a normal duck, would have no
jerry robotic movements or anything to give it away. Obviously,
the government's got secret programs and technology at the Wazir
that they never tell us about, so it could be them,
But even that explanation has holes. This thing was seriously advanced,
like something straight out of cyberpunk, so maybe it wasn't
even built by humans at all. I know that may
sound crazy, but there are a lot of stories about
mysterious lights and sky around this area. I'm not saying
its aliens, but I'm not saying it isn't either. I
realize this probably isn't the smartest decision, but I'm not leaving,
not yet. I need to figure out the truth Entry
ten Bouquet. I'm leaving eth this thing. This is some
seriously creepy stuff. I've watched enough four Moves to know
where this is going, and I don't plan on being probe. Unfortunately,
it's night now and there ain't no way in hell
I'm walking all the way back to my truck and
pitch black, especially with that thing out there, I got
no choice but to wait till morning, so I might
as well write out what I saw. I really hope
this isn't going to be a found footage situation. So
after writing my previous entry, I realized I should try
and take a closer examination of the duck slashtro I
went back out to the spot where I shot it,
but it wasn't there. It was only like twenty feet
from my tent earlier, but it was just gone. Never
heard any noise from that spot, and obviously it never
got up on its own, as it was way too damaged.
I still don't know how to explain that. I figured
I might as well go out and try and scout
around a bit and keep an eye out for any
two pranksters or other shenanigans. I got to my same
spot as the previous day and proceeded to see a
whole lot of nothing. I sat there for ires and
must have still been exhausted from the previous night, because
at some point I dozed off. You know that feeling
you get when you take a nap, wake up and
for no apparent reason or kind of panic When you
wake up, like it takes your moment to remember what
happened and where you are. Yees, So picture that times
like a thousand and maybe you'll get the feeling I
had when I woke up. When I woke up on
that twilight hill, nothing made sense any more. The sun
hung low in the sky, painting a landscape with a
skarl atting eclipsed in a distance by purple clouds. That
familiar and a malcomed sense of a panic attack looming
then struck me. I got up and began to saunter around,
as is my usual tactic of trying toward those down things.
It was then I realized I had no idea where
I was. It got fas scarier than that, though, because I,
for the life of me, suddenly couldn't even remember my
own name if it wasn't for my rifle beside me
and wallowed in my back pocket. I swear on everything
I could not have told you who I was, all
what I was doing out there. On the brink of panic,
I grabbed my supplies and trudged back down the hill.
Spotting my foreign campsat further down the grove, I assumed
it must have been mine, although I had no conscious
memory of setting it up. It was there. I found
this journal, though, and things started coming back. After re
reading the previous interest and taking some time to reevaluate
my memory, I feel as though I stumbled upon something
very strange out here, paranormal even that's stupid, duck. My
disappearing supplies the random apparent Anesia. Something is doing this
to me. I don't know what, but I am a
guinea pig in someone of Something's little psychological experiment. It's
dark again, but as soon as dawn breaks, I'm leading
entry the leaven. I can't leave. It's no longer an option.
But don't take that to mean that I don't want
to leave. I'd give just about anything at this point
to his escaped this god forsaken grove. But whoever or
whatever is during this word allow it. I woke up
at the crack of dawn, and thankfully things seemed pretty
much normal. I packed my stuff up and again walking
down the trail back to my truck. Everything was going
fine until I hit a wall, and I mean that literally.
I was walking along when all of a sudden, my
nose smack right into something. I paused and took a
step back as blood began to trickle from my nostril.
I stared in disbelief because there was nothing in front
of me. I put my han out and felt something there,
something completely invisible but unbreachable, like some kind of force field.
I struck it with my fists, kicked it, but to
no avail. I then dropped all of my supply to
pulled the rifle off my back and fired a shot.
The boat struck the invisible wall, shattering on impact and
sending fragments flying all over. I ducked back, feeling that
familiar sense of panic strike again. I can't leave. I'm
not allowed to leave. The only choice I had was
to return to my previous camp site. I've just been
sitting in my camp chair for eyes now, watching the
sun travel across the sky. It'll be going down soon
once more, and I don't know what that means. I'm
trying to think rationally, but that's easier said than done. Clearly,
something wants me here, something that is much more powerful
than me. Whether it God or aliens or government, I
don't know. For all, I know that Roberduck could have
been the avatar of some eldritch monstrosity that enjoys watching
me suffer. Whatever the reasoning behind all this, I'm here
for a reason. It could be punishment, but I figure
something was trying to punish me. It would have just
killed me already. I mean, if me shooting that duck
thing with such an egregious sin, then surely they would
have smited me. Or is it mote what's the plural
for smite? Anyways, whatever, since I can't leave, I guess
the only option I have is to weigh entry twelve.
I think I know what this place is now. Something
one of my former co workers said has been echoing
endlessly in my mind for iOS. He was an older
Native American guy, very in tune with folk or in
urban legends and what not. Things I once regarded a
superstitious huea that I've now been forced to reconsider. He
knew I was a hunter, and he once told me
to beware the lonely places. He said, places devoid of
humans are dangers in ways we cannot yet comprehend. Not
because of predators or whether or anything like that, but
because of someone forgetting they exist. I never knew what
he meant by that, but after my previous botut of
on Nietia, I think that what happened to me. It's
got me thinking about the particle slit test and how
the results of that essentially reinforced the notion that reality
is altered by observing it. Maybe the same is true
on a larger scale as well. I won't sit here
and claim to have the answers, but there's a lot
we don't know about perception. It reminds me of the
old question if a tree falls in the woods and
no one is around to hear it, Does it make
a sound? I think the better question is if a
tree falls in the wood and no one is around
to perceive it, does the tree even exist? I heard
things last night, things I don't know how to explain.
It started with a loud, whirring sound, which to me
sounded like a helicopter. I burst out of my tent,
thinking for a moment someone had come to rescue me,
or at least I could fly at them down. Once outside,
I looked around to see if there were lights in
the sky, but I saw nothing. I spent a couple
minutes looking around, but there was nothing there. It's it
sounded like it was literally right above me, but after
a few minutes it just faded away entirely. I was
about to return to my tent when a sudden immenspom
thundered through the landscape. A bright orange flash illuminated the
sky from somewhere in the distance. The noise was so
loud I fell flat on my ass. A chorus of shouts,
canfire and roaring then emerged, going on for another few minutes.
It stopped as suddenly as it began, as if someone
just flipped a ganswitch. The light faded and I was
left alone in silence and darkness once more. It didn't
last long until a familiar and un welcome my shot
chills down my spine quak. Though he was on top
of a hill, looking down at me as if I
were some peasant in his diabolic regime, the look of
arrogance on his face was unmistakable. Those beady little obsidian
eyes and the stoic, beaked expressions spewed the unmistakable contempt
of kings and gods from eons past. It's seem it
always has been. He's the one doing this to me,
toying with me, trying to drive me mad. But I
wasn't about to submit. The two of us just stared
at each other for several moments, and I tried to
figure out what I should do since murturing him. While
it didn't seem to end it, I figured I only
had one option. I took a step towards him, and
he didn't budge. Seconds later and I had reached him
atop the grassy hill. It was like he was waiting
for me to join him. I stepped beside him and
peered over the hill. That overlooked my former hunting grounds,
only this time it wasn't the same. Down below us
was an alien landscape, a bleak, scorched desert with scarlet sounds,
illuminated by the efferveescence of an enormous, gleaming moon. Above us,
the field was littered with debris, mostly broken down machinery
in various states of decay. I spotted a few guns
amongst the wreckage, and something else. The things I glimpsed
in the next passing minutes are things I will not scribe.
I will only that I will shown the secrets of reality,
how it works, and how the natural order truly behaves.
This place is not my prison, it is in excess.
It made sense then the weird helicopter noises the force field.
They weren't things that had been deliberately placed to impede me.
They were boundaries, various pockets of reality which had intersected
and defined but simultaneously convoluted ways. The human mind isn't
meant to understand and how it works. Our senses are
not built to travel in directions beyond the third dimension.
But there are those that know how. After thoroughly ingesting
all the horrific and beautiful size before me. I turned
to my feather compatriot. No longer was he a nuisance
or my enemy. He was a teacher. Is it possible
to learn this power? I asked, ripping the question directly
from Anakin skywalker himself. The dock turned to me and
I finally understood clack entry thirteen. This entry didn't actually
contain any words. The only thing on it was the
web footprint of what everyone assumes was a duck. That's it.
That's all he wrote. After Zac failed to return to
work the following Monday, his employer's contact of me asking
if I had heard from him. Shortly after that, we
realized no one had heard from him, and the investigation began.
The local park ranges organized the search team and skyared
the area. My ex husband and I flew down to
join the effort as well. We found his truck, his campsite,
and even the grove he had written about. We did
not find him, however, search dogs were able to follow
his scent to the top of a small hill just
beyond this camp site, but no further. That's where we
found the aforementioned journal, lying in the dirt. As I said,
at the beginning. I cannot claim to speak for the
authenticity of Zak's journal. If I'm honest, I don't even
think I fully understand what he meant. All I really
know is that my son is still missing and no
one has seen him since he left for his trip. Dak,
If somehow you're reading this, please come home. I wasn't
going to add this part, but maybe it's significant. Like
I said, I cannot confirm the validity of Szaka's journal.
But last night, as I was trying to force myself
to sleep, I was so woken by noise. I tried
looking around, but I couldn't find the source of it.
I'm not even one hundred percent sure I heard it,
but every once in a while I swear I hear
that sound again. Clack. Do you ever notice how many
trees there are? I've heard it said there are more
trees than stars in our galaxy. Amazing to think about,
isn't it. That's something as big as a star should
be unumbered by the trees on our planet. In our galaxy,
at least, that's a lot of trees. And they are
all very old, aren't they so very old? Older than us?
Maybe Somewhere out there is a tree older than the dinosaurs,
buried in a mountain somehow, having survived millions of years.
I know we find fossils of trees, but what if
this fossils weren't dead. It's interesting to think about that
there could be a tree out there older than all
of mankind's history. Do you think trees have thoughts? After
trees are alive and every living thing has some kind
of mind and intelligence driving it? And if so, what
do they think of us? I've got a fair idea
of what they think about human kind. I'm a park
ranger and this is my story. It all began when
we got call. None of us had been wanting to receive.
A child had gone missing. This wasn't unusual. People go
missing all the time in the parks. However, what made
this one unusual was how it happened. Maxi Patton had
been out with his mother on a picnic at thirteen
years old. He was a wild and rambunctious child, and
if there was one thing he loved doing more than
any other, it was climbing trees. If only he'd been
more of a video gain kid than an outdoors kind
perhaps all this could have been avoided. He see, it
was when he was climbing a tree that he disappeared.
His mother recounted everything in detail. They picked out a
nice clearing on the edge of the woods, near a
large clump of trees. Maxie could climb on as he pleased.
We set up to the blanket right here. Maxey wanted
to climb that big pine tree. She pointed it. I
took my eyes off him for only a moment. She
sobbed just one moment, and when I looked back, he
was Then she utterly broke down the fust. Then we
did was check out the tree in question. It was
a pine tree, one of the toast I'd ever seen. Clearly,
it was very old. How high up was he when
he vanished? I asked his mother, a little skeptical kid
could just disappear without a trace while climbing a tree.
He was half way up. Then she continued sobbing. After
that it was obvious we weren't going to get anything
else out of her. Still, I walked around the tree twice,
and I could clearly see the snap branches and twigs.
When Maxie had climbed up. They ended out about half
way up. It was like he just stopped climbing then
disappeared completely. We did a thorough search of the area
first and found nothing, well almost nothing. See about fifty
yards and the pine tree. I found a shoe covered
in pine needles and tree sap. It was red and blue,
a Nicky Bran's symbol on the side. It seemed to
have been there for a long while. But when I
bent down and picked it up, what I found inside
planted a first seat of doubt that this wasn't just
a case of a woman losing track of her child.
There written in black permanent marker was a name, Maxi Patten.
So how did it get here? Maxie's mother was hysterical
and became even more so when I brought the shoe
to her. That's it, that's my Maxi shoe. She grabbed it,
clutching it close to her chest as shoe ill and whaled.
We had to take her away. Taking the shoe from
her was difficult, both physically and emotionally. That woman held
a shoe to chest like it was a baby. I'll
never forget how much that woman cried as she was
taken away. Sad to say, but the shoe was the
only evidence we had of Maxi and where he gone.
She was escorted to the park center, where she'd wait
for the paramedics. We know that she wanted to help,
but in her condition she'd only be a hindrance. The
moment she was out of sight, however, was when one
of my partners bought at Maxie's blue shirt at the
top of another pine tree, hanging from a branch by
the collar, a hundred yard in the opposite direction of
where we found a shoe. He swore up and down
that the shirt hadn't been there when we'd first looked,
and did so with such conviction that none of us
doubted him, even if we wanted to. We knew we
had to get that shirt down somehow. It was evidence.
But then again, how had the shirt gotten up there.
Unlike the pine tree Maxie had disappeared from, this one
had no sign of anyone having claned on it, no
broken twigs and branches slightly bent from where someone had
climbed up and left the shirt. There were five of
us when we went to first look for Maxie, excluding myself.
We didn't think we need that many, because frankly, people
go missing in the parks all the time. Often they'd
turn up in about a few hours, but we'd never
dealt with something like this. Starring up at that shirt
covered in pine needles, I think it began to dawn
on all of us that we were dealing with something
we weren't trained for. We radioed for backup, all trying
to figure out how to get the shirt down. I
volunteered to climb up the very first branch. I grot, however,
broken half instantly in the process, scratching me across the hand.
I cried out, looking at the gash across my palm.
It wasn't deep, but the skin had been broken. Blood
was already pulling in it. Groaning at the sharp pane,
I clenched my hand into her fists, trying to stifle
a bleeding. I glared, stunned at the large breach, which
had just snapped when I touched it. My blood was
already seeping down it and towards the ground, where it
dripped on to the exposed roots of the pine tree below. Crap.
I cried, turning back around to the others while clutching
my wounded hand and my still healthy one. Park rangers
always carry a first a chret on hand, and they
quickly helped me apply bandages to it, wrapping my hand
in cotton. What happened, one of the other park rangers
asked me, looking at the broken branch. Ludicrous, it just broke,
I snapped back, despite myself. My agitation at having been
cut by the tree branch when it broke was severe.
But then something else dawned on me. How did that
tree branch cut me? It broke in the grip of
my hand, and shouldn't have been able to move in
such a way as to leave a mark this painful. Invertently,
a shiver went down my spine. I became acutely aware
of how many trees were around us. Was I mistaken
or had the number increased since I last checked. I
had to be mistaken. We need to split up and
find MAXI, another park ranger said. I was thankful given
it meant I didn't have to focus on the trees
any more. What about the shirt, another said, indicating the
garment at the top of the tree. We'll come back
for it later, the first one said, dismissively. You know,
it's strange. For the life of me, I cannot remember
their names. See, I was still new at the time,
the rookie. Really I barely knew what I was doing
at the time. I never saw any of the other
park rangers involved in the search for Maxi Patten again.
Most of the retired or transferred to a different park,
But sometimes I do wonder if we all came back
from that search. We split up into three pairs, moving
in a perimeter from Maxi's last known location, the Pine Tree.
I was paired up with a man whose name escapes me.
I just know he was Hispanic, and that's all I
can ever remember about him. We were sent north in
case Maxi or whatever was left of him, had somehow
gotten there. The others went east and west. If we
found anything, we had to radio it in and then
come back. If we found a body, we had to
leave it disturbed. That was obvious, of course, but I
really hoped we wouldn't find anything, because what we'd found
so far just didn't sit right with me. How did
his shoe get fifty yards from his last known location?
As I thought back to the moment when I had
found that shoe, I began playing it over and over
in my head. Something was nagging me about it. Hey, pal,
said my partner what, I replied, he had ever climbed
trees as a kid. I nodded. My face was beaming
as I thought back to those happy days. When my
partner's grimaced. However, a blink confused what's wrong? Shaking his head,
my partner muttered something in Spanish under his breath before
he answered. I did too a few times, but he
stopped walking and turned to face me. One time, when
I was climbing a tree, something happened. What, I asked,
curious if this had anything to do with our current search.
It was back in Mexico, before my family emigrated to
the States. There was a tree in my bulo's backyard.
I climbed it every time I went over. One day,
when I climbed to the very top, I was looking
out over the entire land around my Abulo's house. I
felt like I was king of the world. Then I
saw it, saw what. My partner didn't answer. He opened
his mouth, paused, then slowly closed it, shaking his head.
You wouldn't believe me, try me, I replied. He sighed,
then opened his mouth to say something. When his eyes
widened so large he looked like a fish. He was
looking at something behind me, furrowing my brow. I began
to turn around when he grabbed my arm in a
vicelike grip. Don't he hissed, or clenched teeth. Don't look.
I couldn't help myself. I wished I had taken his advice.
When my eyes found the blue shirt off for a
young boy hanging from the bottom branches of a tree
with a broken branch, probably about a hundred meters away.
Blood was dropping from it on to the roots below.
My heart began beating in my chest so fast I
thought it would burst. That's impossible, I muttered, then blinked
what I saw the moment my eyes open will forever
halp me. The tree had come close, sir. My partner
began cursing, letting go of my arm and stumbling back.
He crossed himself, saying silent prayers. We have to go,
he said, with a shaking breath. Now I didn't argue. Instead,
I began running my partner right next to me. The
whole time. I didn't dare look back once, and neither
did he. All thought of finding Maxy was gone. For
all intents and purposes. He might as well not exist
at that moment. All that mattered was getting away from
that tree. Exhaustion caught up with us eventually, though, and
we stopped panting as we tried to catch our breath.
Did that just happen? I said, through my painful gasps
of air. Did that actually just happen? I don't know, Migeo, said,
my partner. Did you see it move? I asked him, no,
he answered, but I saw the others moving? What their
branches and leaves were moving? He answered, you heard that right?
I nodded. By this point, I was thoroughly done with everything.
For lack of a better term, this was just too crazy.
I was watching them for a while, he continued, wondering
why they were moving? No wind about? Then? Then? What
I asked him? He looked me grimly in the eyes.
I saw a boy, he said. The branches moved aside,
only briefly, but I saw the body of a little boy.
He couldn't have been more than their teen. But a migo,
we mustn't find that body. I didn't want to ask,
but curiosity got the better of me. Why Because that
thing could never be called human, not after they've finished
with it. What do you mean finished with it? My
partner didn't answer. Instead, he began praying again, in a
shaking voice, crossing himself over and over. What was happening
to Maxi's body? I pressed, not consciously. He didn't answer
me at first. Instead, he licked his lips, looking around us,
eyes darting from one spot to another. When he spoke,
his voice was lone, shaking, the same thing I saw
in my Abulau's back out when I was a child.
I didn't say anything to that. I just sat on
a stone, leaning backward until my partner grabbed my shoulder.
Don't he whispered, there's a tree behind you. I didn't
need look to know he was right. It was obvious anyway.
We hadn't left the forest after all. What do we do?
I asked him. I kept my eyes on his face intently,
because looking anywhere else meant seeing a tree. Ignore them,
he answered firmly. They might leave us alone if we
do so. We did. We just sat on the ground,
facing each other, catching our breath. I could hear the
singing of birds, the gentle flow of a stream nearby,
but the only thing I could pay attention to was
the sounds of trees made, the soft creaking of wood,
the swaying of leaves and bunches on this windless day,
the trees brushing against each other. Neither of us said anything,
just looked at the ground to avoid the awkwardness of
staring at each other's faces. For who knows how long,
the silence between us was marked by our tense patients.
Something was going to happen. We could feel it. Even
after after running from that thing for god knows how long,
I didn't believe we'd escaped it. It was still out there, waiting,
just like us. I've heard stories about how some hunter
struck their prey. They shot at first, critically winding it,
then followed the blood trail at least behind, waiting for
it to collapse from exult Austin. Why bother letting it
put up a struggle when you can wait it out,
I remembered the stores. When I looked at my hand,
the cotton around my palm was soaked, the crimson red.
Why is this happening, I asked my companion. He said nothing,
just stared at the ground. I've never heard of this before,
I continued, my voice, dull and tired. I've heard stories
of bigfoot mouthman, even freaking dog men. In Michigan. Some
people say they've seen aliens, others, goblins, and fairies, and
they always say they see them in the woods, peeking
around a corner, watching them hiding behind something like a
rock or ey ey. I couldn't say it because they
were still all around us, listening. But I've never heard
of any one being hunted by tree. When I said that,
I don't know why I did. I guess accepting the
reality of what was happening would make it easier. It didn't,
because when my powder looked up at me, suddenly I
could see it in his eyes. He was disappointed in me.
I was talking in the presence of other trees. I
didn't care. This was just too weird. Any rational part
of my brain was long since dead, unable to deal
with how his others was. I wondered if my partner
was going through the same thing. Then again, he claimed
to have experienced this thing before. Are we sure of
they are trees? He said, slowly, like he was talking
to a child. What I answered, and eyes narrowed. My
father once told me a story. It was about a
demon possessing a woman he knew as a child. He said,
she went stark raving mad, biting people and scratching her face.
When he finished, I couldn't help. But wonder if demons
only possess people? Are you saying a demon has possessed
a tree and is hunting us? Maybe? He answered, who knows?
I mean, how do we even know if that thing
was a tree? Look like one to me, I replied,
trying not to peek over my shoulder to see if
it was behind me. But trees don't move that fast,
and they don't carry a round pieces of clothing. They
don't chase people. You said you saw them with a
boy's body, I pointed out. My partner swallowed, crossing himself.
I did, I did. I wish I hadn't, but I did.
And let me tell you, migo, trees aren't capable of
doing what was happening to that boy. I didn't say anything.
The sun broke through the leaf canopy above us, and
as quinted from the glare, so did my partner. Part
of me thought he made a compelling case, but another
felt like there was something we were missing, messing that
was it. When a tree falls, I said, and no
one is around, what sound does it make? My partner
furrowed his brow, confused, How do we know trees don't
chase people down? How do we know they can't move
in the blink of an eye, or take a young
boy without anyone noticing and carry away his body. What
are you saying that trees are capable of doing that?
Maybe they are, I replied, Maybe we aren't the first
to have seen them either. You think there might be others.
When you were a kid, you saw something in your
grandfather's back yard, right, something involving trees through the sun's glare.
I could see his face going pale. Maybe you were
one of the lucky for you to live and tell
the tale. What he said, nothing hanging open. When a
person goes missing in the savannah, some people believe they
were killed by the local wildlife, and nobody doubts that
Africa is full of dangerous beasts. I let that sink in,
let my partner begin to understand what I was going
to say before I finished. When a person goes missing
in the forest, sometimes people assumed they were killed by
the local wildlife, mountain lions, bare as wolves. But about
the trees all around us, because nobody ever notices them.
I pressed my lips together when I finished. My partner
looked at me in disbelief, in horror, dumbfounded. Do you
have any proof, he said slowly, Same amount of proof
as you do for demons possessing trees, only a theory.
Then my partner's face brightened with the dark realization. What if?
What if both wrong? I blinked. My mind began racing
with possibilities. What if we were both wrong? What if
this wasn't trees or demons, but something else? Entirely? If
it was, then what was after us? I was about
to say something when I noticed it, the shadow which
had fallen between us, perfectly still on the ground like
a border, keeping us upon a long, thick black line,
one with several appendages sticking outward from it. My hot
skipped to beat, his eyes widened. I knew my partner
saw it when he cursed, screaming and backing away. However,
there was one part of the shadow which made my
blood run cold. One of the appendages was broken, and
from it hung the sol wet of a shirt, and slowly,
very slowly, it was getting bigger. Unable to help myself,
I began following the shadow's trail to its source, knowing
full well, what had made it? I could just see
it in my peripheral vision, like a patient hunter waiting
for its prey to roll over and die. When I
heard the most comforting sound in my life, the distant
hum of a cuff speeding down the road, passing us by,
I turned back to my partner, locking eyes with him.
At that moment, we both had the same idea. It
was our one chance of getting out of this nightmare.
Neither of us knew if it would work, but we
didn't have a choice. Because the shadow had nearly doubled
in size and a tree was creaking very wildly. We
ran faster than I ever have in my life before,
since we ignored everything around us, especially the silent inescapable trees.
We ran across their roots, pushed through their leaves, ducked
under their branches, swerved to avoid running into their trunks.
I didn't care if I touched them any more. If
I was fast enough I could get away from them,
then they wouldn't catch me. But what about that infernal
creaking always right on our heels. What would happen when
it stopped? We couldn't be near it. When that happened,
our very lives depended upon it, so caught up and
sprinting out of those gulfersacing trees. I didn't think to
look at my path. My foot hit something large and solid,
and I cried out, losing my balance. My partner was
in front of me and looked over his shoulder bewildered.
He stopped and reached out his arms. I growled on
to them and planted my foot back in the ground,
pushing myself forward. Both of us kept running. We didn't
need to check what I had tripped on. It was
bound to happen at some point. We'd been running over
them for ages. When we saw the gray asphalt of
the road, my heart leapt for joy. The creaking behind
us had become a growing fainter and fainter. I knew
down while we were safe the moment we reached the road,
and that I felt something brush against my back, something
I knew all too well, the hard, rigid texture of
tree burke. The next thing I knew. I was laying
on my back against the bony asphalt, panting as I
caught my breath. My partner was bent over me, his
face obscuring the sun. There were tears running down his face.
I saw a touch you, he said to me, weeping.
It was so close, a migo, so close. I've never
seen anyone run as fast she did. We're safe now,
he began, myurmarine we're safe phrase, the Lord, We're safe.
I didn't say anything, just grunt as I pushed myself
off the asphalt. I didn't remember even setting foot on it.
My body ached in my lungs demanded oxygen, which I
was only too eager to provide. I looked back at
the woods we come out of, marked by broken twigs
and foliage pressed into the ground. Was the spot we
both burst from on to the asphalt. Beyond it, I
saw only trees and not a single blue speck anywhere.
I smiled, relieved, and stood up, glancing to the other
side of the road, and my smile vanished when I
saw the blue shirt laying on the edge of it.
The inside of the collar was facing me, and on
the white tag was a name written in Blackmuker MAXI Padden.
I blinked, and it was gone. I didn't tell my partner.
He thought we were safe. Why should I take that
away from him? Instead? Both of us went back to
the ranger station, tired, thirsty, starving. The other pairys had
already beaten us to the station when we arrived. They'd
been trying to work the radio, but stop when they
saw us come in. Nothing happened to them. They didn't
find anything either. They didn't ask where we had been
for the last three hours. They knew better than to
do that. Nobody ever tried in the days they followed either.
We didn't tell anyone about what happened. Some things are
better left forgotten. A couple of weeks later, my partner resigned.
He sat at intense emotional trauma as his reason. I
did the same thing. Three months later. I didn't keep
in contact with him, he didn't try to. Instead, I
moved to the city, surrounded by buildings and cars. In
the modern world, I avoid the pox botanical gardens. I
knew where a single tree is. I stay away from it.
I've always believed it was the only way to keep
myself safe. I do enjoy going to a park my apartment.
Of the looks there are no trees there, only grass
and bushes. That is until I'm not sure what to
do any more. Because I had a dream last night
there was a pine tree in my apartment and one
of the lower branches is broken. I thought it was
just a symptom of my trauma. Then I saw that
tree in the park, and it's getting closer. I'm a
wildlife ranger at America's largest blackwater swamp. Now I'm trapped here.
I've been working as a wildlife officer at the Roquinochie
State Park since twenty ten. It's a pretty great job,
if I'm being honest. I've always loved nature in being
from the area, the heat and humidity never bothered me.
There's been some strange stuff going on lately that the
job doesn't involve a whole lot, mostly just patrolling the
swamps to make sure nobody is hunting illegally and joping
an eye out for any possible fire has us during
the summer months. Really is just up his full place
to be, assuming you took plenty of bug spray on
you at all times. I've been an overnight shift for
the last few week. The regular officer is out on
porternity leave. Before he left, he told me I would
probably see a few weird things typical abound the floor
of a Celestia. The line meted up Rennet's kids sneaking
off into the swamp to ban and the swamp lights
to first two were typical on day shift to so
I wasn't worried about that the swamp lights threw me
for a loop. That the lights are and no old superstitions. Supposedly,
it's spirits of lost souls that I've doubed and the
swamp trying to lower others to a water with death.
There's a natural explanation for the methin and phosphorus gas
from the swamp mixers and gives off a gloat. Actually
it looks pretty cool after the first scape it gives
you does aren't the scalest thing that's been happening though.
I was out on one of my patrols a couple
of weeks ago in a big fan boat that we
used to get around. There is where boardwalks haven't been
built in, and I noticed something huge footing in the
water not far from me. I steered over that way
and focused my spotlight onto it. It was an alligator, well,
it used to be an alligator at one time. This
one had been a monster, at least fifteen feet long
and built light truck look like something that crawled out
of Jurasse park. It had been torn to shreds gashes
all along the length of its body, and the head
was barely hanging on. Hey, Captain, I said into my radio,
what's going on? Smith? The captain answered into the radio.
She was stationed back at the main office at the
swamp entrance. We always kept at least two people on
shift in case of any accidents of the rare wildlife attack.
I've got a dead gaiter out here in section fourteen,
I said back. I picked up a branch from nearby
and started poking the corpse in the water, trying to
flip it around and see if there were any other
distinguishing marks. Probably just one of the older ones out there.
Nature will sort it out, Captain answered back. Dead animals
were nothing new in the swamp, especially with the amount
of wildlife out here, But this was something I had
never seen before. Negative, cap this gaiter is a giant
and it's been ripped apart, ripped apart by what, she
sounded surprised. Couldn't say. I blamed her beats the crap
out of me, I said. I still couldn't tell whether
it had been torn apart by claws or teeth. The
head had been red, though the skin was stretched and
the bones were sticking out in jagged pikes. I'm getting
the hell out of here before it comes back, though
you think one of the bears might have done it,
Old matthisall has been a bit more crotchety than usual lately.
Metti Cella was a black bear that had been tagged
in the swamp back in the late eight days. He
was the oldest bar we had on record out here
and was somewhat of a local celebrity. He mostly kept
to himself and seemed to get along with most of
the gaiters in the swamp, usually swimming along beside the
most of the time. No way Methisel could have done this.
I set back into the radio. I'm heading back to
the office. No head over to the cabin. If there's
something big out there, I don't want you out in
the open that night. Head in and wait until it's
slide out. We'll come get you f I hided the
old cabins. We had a few spreads out throughout the
swamp because of how large it was. Mostly they were
used as ranger outposts now, but they started out as
little hunting cabins back in the early nineteen hundreds. They
were small and up on huge stilts to keep them
out of the water, plus to make sure the black
bears didn't wander into them and make a nice little home.
I headed over to the nearest one, about a twenty
minute ride in the boat. The whole way over hours
going over what in the world could have torn that
gayjo apart. Usually they're pretty dozal. There's plenty of food
for them out here, so one wouldn't have any reason
to attack a bare for food, and a bear is
the only thing out here big enough to have done that.
The only ones out here are black bears anyway, and
they are more likely to run and fight. I co
stood up to the cabin and start the boat fan,
pulling it toward the nearest tilt and tying it down.
With the sound of the fan not overtaking my hearing,
I started to notice just how quiet it was. Usually
there were cicada's, frogs, crickets, and all kinds of other
wild life making noise all over the swamp. Now I
didn't even hear the usual owls in the trees. It
was like everything had run away. Once everything was tied down,
I grabbed onto the ladder and started to climb up
into the cabin. I pushed open the small trap door
and pulled myself into the cabin. It smelled like mildew
and dirt, but at least it was a safe place
to sleep, out of reach of any dangerous animals. I
looked around the cabin until I finally found the generator
in the corner. Luckily, we have some one come out
to these once a month and a place all the gas.
I make sure nothing has chewed through the wiring. I
would actually have light and some air conditioning, so to
night wouldn't be too bad. That's when I realized the
gas canister was mostly empty. They must have forgotten to
hit this one last month. I still have a supply
of batteries down in the boat, and we keep some
small lanterns around, but it wouldn't be nearly as good
as having all the lights on the cabin. I looked
out the window into the swamp. There was a bright
light coming from about fifty feet away. It looked too
bright to be one of the swamp lights. Hey, Captain,
I said into my radio. You got somebody coming out
to me right now? You and I are the only
ones out here tonight, she said back. Ain't nobody coming
out there until sun comes up. More lights started to
pop up near the first one. They were spaced out,
but all just as bright. There's lights out there, Captain,
I think they are moving toward me. I tried to
hide the shakiness in my voice. The lights were getting closer,
just hand tight. Tried to get some solar radio cut
out with a high pitched boast of static, cap, cap,
can you hear me? It was useless. The only thing
coming through was a low buzz of static. I'm gone.
I looked at my watch. It was only eleven nineteen
p m. I had at least eight hours before some
one would be out here. The scream started a few
minutes later. It sounded like a child. The screams when
a kid falls and scraps. Then NYE and don't know
what to do about it. They were anguished. They am
sticking around for the scrap. I grabbed a lantern and
a flare gun off the wall and pulled up the
trap door to get on to the ladder. I practically
jumped down to the boat and started to unit it
from the stilts. I've reached down to the engine to
pull the cord. It was gone. The poke cord had
been cut off. There was no way to get the
fan going. I'm stuck here. The screams grew louder, and
I turned to see the lights only a few feet away.
I height helt my ass up the ladder. I could
hear something ripping at the boat behind me. As I
closed the trap door, I had the splinter of one
of the stilts and felt the cabin's way. I've got
my cell phone, and my signal comes and goes. I'm
going to try and keep up its going as I can.
I've got every lamp in the cabin on, and I'm
sitting in a corner as far away from any of
the windows as I can get. The screaming has stopped,
but I can see a glow of the lights coming
through one of the windows. If you're reading this, send
help hot. According to the clock and calendar we keep
in the cabin, I've been here for two days, not
that I would be able to tell out, seeing as
the sun hasn't come out this entire time. It's been
dark since I got here that night. The only light
I've seen is from those godam swamp lights out there.
And they've been coming and going as they please. I
still don't know what they are, but I know there's
something else out there with them. I've been trying to
sleep since i've been here, not like I have the
ability to do much else. The boat is trashed, one
of the stalts of the cabin is splintered, and as
sure as hell catswim out of here. I was looking
out the window last night between naps and saw something
moving between the lights that were out there. It was big,
at least the size of suv. It around the perimeter
around the cabin, walking on four legs. It wasn't a bear.
I knew that we didn't have any that size in
the swamp. I hope to whatever gods are listening that
it is Negator. I can't get too good of a
look at it with how it's weaving in between the
swamp lights, but I saw it knock over a tree
on its way through. So here we are two days,
stuck in this hole of a cabin, surrounded by floating
lights that scream and would have a biological nightmare shit
jambling around out there. I know some people asked why
I didn't call the captain using my cell you really
think I didn't try that. I just get a busy signal.
I've tried sending out texts and messages too, but they
all just show read. I haven't gotten anything back. I
really hope someone can tell the captain that I'm out
here if they ask. I'm in the section fourteen to
eighteen cabin out near the gate Bog. Hoy s It
hit me. If I'm near the gate Bog, then there's
a boardwalk not too far from here, maybe a mile
or two, that will lead me directly out to the
swamp entrance and the head office. I looked around the
cabin and found the map that we keep of the
entire swamp with all of our trails and stations marked. Okay,
I'm in sick to fourteen and the boardwalk is a
mile and a half southwest of me, right over the
Florida border. I'm going to have to try to sneak
out of Hiredo. Maybe I can make a paddle for
the boat that way I don't have to swim. I
looked around the cabin, taking inventory of what I have available.
There are some battery packs, a set of radios, a
flare gun, and the emergency rifle with twenty rounds of AMMO,
plus the lantern and a couple of flashlights with glow
sticks as back. I think there's a backup orn fan boat,
but I'll need to check to be sure. The other
thing I'll have to do is to distract the light and
whatever the thing isn't there. I may need to use
either a flare or a few of the rounds of AMMA.
I don't think bullets will hurt the lights, though. I
thought it over for a few minutes. This was going
to take some trial an error before I go anywhere.
And I've seen what the thing's out that can do
to the cabin, So they could break me in half,
no problem. I'll load up a flare and see what
that does. I have six flares total, so one shouldn't
be an issue. I loaded it up stair to the
window and came at the nearest light. The flare shot
off the red light, almost blinding me. Before it landed.
I saw it pass through the light. The light changed.
It had a face, now gaunt with hollow black eyes.
Sharp teeth showed from the twisted moor, almost as if
it were screaming in terror. I heard a roar of
anger from it, and it shot toward the cabin, howling.
I pulled the shutter, trying to close the window before
it got here, desperately hoping that we'll keep it out.
It banged against the side of the cabin and I
could hear hall scraping against the wood. At least I
finally had an answer to this date. They were solid,
so maybe bullets could hurt them. Okah, I think I'm ready.
There's a small propane tank under the camp stove in
the corner. I can rig that to a flare, throw
it out there and shoot it as a distraction. Then
I jumped down from the trap boat, land in the
boat and row my way out of here. I'm going
to wait for a while and observe that swamp light.
I shot at a still howling outside. That's a sound
I'm never going to forget. It's It's like a child screaming,
but warped, as if it's being put through an echo
and drawn out. God, I hope I make it out
of this hell hole. The radio suddenly let out a
burst of static. I could hear a voice coming through
Casin Cason, Are you out there? Holy Yes, it was
the Captain cap can you hear me? I'm here. I'm
in a section fourteen cabin, I shouted back into it.
The howling outside got louder, the clawing at the war
more furious Cassin, we searched the cabin. You weren't there.
Where the hell are you? What does she mean? I've
been here for two days. They had to have seen
my boat down there. Look, we found your boat back
near that horn upgaiter. Just stay where you are. We'll
find you, Captain, and in the cabin, I haven't left
the damn cabin, I shouted back. I was panicking now.
If they couldn't find me, what hope did I have?
I think leaving is my only hope. I need to
get the hell out of here and at least get
back to the main office. From there, I can at
least be in a little more safe hand some cinder
block walls instead of this old rick to cabin. I
have to go through with my plan. I'm writing all
this into my fern and setting it up to go
out automatically when I've signal again. If I don't make it,
hopefully somebody can read this and find my body. I
still don't know what the giant creature is out there,
but I assume it's what tore up the gater the
other night. I'll try an update again if I can
make it out of here. God, please let me make
it out of here. I climbed the stairs in the
forest and still regret it. Thirteen years ago, I went mute,
and I'm finally able to talk about what happened. From
a young age, I extroverted and a stubborn girl. Although
I always listened to my parents, but that time, at
twelve years I felt rebellious. My neighborhood held a girl
Scout camp every year. My parents didn't allow me to go,
but this time I felt old enough, which was my
first mistake. Me and Kelly, my best friend, begged our parents,
but they refused because they are responsible adults who cared
about us, but to us twelve year olds, they scened
like monsters. So I made a plan. We told our
parents that we were going to Katy's house for a sleepover.
They talked to Katy's parents and we did stay at
Katy's for approximately twelve minutes, and then we left for
our epic camping trip. Kelly decided in the place Ludenburg Woods,
and that was our second mistake. Kelly and I have
been best friends ever since we were little. Recently, it
was her birthday and I gifted her a unicorn bracelet,
which she never took off. Our neighborhood is surrounded by woods.
The Girl Scout camp took place in the eastern part
of Wosteria Forest, so we were quite far away. We
didn't really have any camping gear, just two pillows, a blanket,
a small barbie tent of flashlight, and some snacks enough
for a day. We rode our cycles from Katy's to
the woods. At first, everything seemed nice. We heard burst
chirping and cows go by. The weather was nice and warm.
We saw squirrels and rabbits jumping around, but as we
went on the forest grew thicker. We were tired of
running around, so we sat under a dark shaded tree.
We ate us knacks and I tried to scare Kelly.
But what will happen next terrifies me to the core.
As we started walking down the red trail again, we
couldn't hear it see any animals. The only sounds we
could hear were of the rustling of the leaves. There
was an eerie presence in the woods. I felt uncomfortable
and suffocated, and then there was a sudden cloud burst.
It felt like the whole woods were closing in on us,
an ominous feeling wrapped around me. The trees looked like
tall and timidating creatures. The peal of thunder startled us,
and both of us ran for shelter. In a state
of panic, I realized that Kelly was missing. Fox surrounded me,
so I couldn't see anything, but I could feel she
wasn't here. After I calmed down, I investigated my surroundings
and scattered for Kelly. As I said before, where our
love was quite warm, but here it felt like it
dropped about ten degrees anyway. While walking down the path,
I noticed something. It was iron. As far as I know,
that was natural. Why would there be human made stuff
so deepen for us? I walked closer to it, and
in betwixt of the fog, I saw an iron staircase.
It seemed new, polish, and untouched by nature, almost as
though Tyne had stopped for it. It seemed like someone
who had cut the stairs from a house and put
them here. I was so mesmerized by them that it
didn't even register to me that all the sounds were
blocked off. At this point, I could hear nothing but
my own breathe. Looking at the stairs, I felt an
unexplained morbid feeling to climb up them. At that time,
I felt like it was a muster climb. I had
no choice, so I did. I started climbing them. With
each step, I felt disconnected from reality. Nothing mattered. Eventually
I couldn't even hear my own breathe, or was I
not breathing. You may think that creepy sounds and screams
are scary, but no silence. Dead silence is the most
terrifying thing that could destroy a person. This type of
silence will make your skin crawl and make you want
to rip your is out. There was only the final
step left between me and would have her lies beyond
the last thing that I could recollect was feeling a push.
That's it. I fell in lost consciousness. When I woke up,
it was still pouring, even heavier than before. After I
made sense of what was happening, I felt like being watched.
Then I heard my name, Rebecca, in a low, distorted voice.
It didn't sound human. I got up and looked around
and saw the thing that haunts my dreams. Every last
herd of hope was shouted by this deep despair. What
I saw was a thing so horrifying that I can't
even begin to describe it. It was tall and had
two dark coals for eyes, a huge distorted grin which
stretched from one side to the other. It had huge
limbs with sharp calls, covered with disgusting blood. I was
petrified looking at it. It continued to say my name
in an now childlike voice. He began to walk towards me,
repeating my name in the same disturbing voice. In a
state of panic, I searched for a weapon, and my
eyes landed on a piece of wood. Without thinking, I
swung the piece of wood, hitting it until it was
a bloody mess. After I realized what I had done,
I ran away. I kept running in run in my
tempt escaping that demon. I barely noticed the sounds of
the woods, hunting and gasping for air. I finally made
it out and dashed to my home, away from the
deathly for us. I broke in and started crying hysterically.
Telly's parents, the Adams, were also their talking with my parents,
all of them shared the look of despair on their faces.
There were cookies on the coffee table which were untouched.
My one shake of loving parents were now anxiously making
phone calls. My angsty teenage brother was actually out of
his room and nervously listening to the conversation Kelly's Ma'm
Missess Adams. Adams, who once was a fashioned diaver and
always war make up was rough and sobbing, and even
mister Adams, the most cheerful person I knew, was on
the verge of tears. When their eyes met mine. They
were completely taken aback. Mom threw everything, including the expensive
new cell phone, and ran towards me. They hugged me
so tightly that it was hard to breathe. All my
anxiety faded away when my mom brushed the dot off
my face. For a second, everything was roses and butterflies.
Until I saw the look on mister and Missess adams faces.
I could feel hope blossoming in their hearts. Their hope
was like a beautiful stained glass window which was shattered
by the despairing news of the absence of their daughter.
When they questioned me about Kelly, my silence gave them
the answer. I could see the colored drain out of
their faces. The forest ranges suched the entire forest until
they came across a battered mess, which d'enna confirmed to
be Kelly. It seemed she was beaten repeatedly with a
blunt object. She seemed like an unrecognized pile of flesh. Kelly,
who once was a high spirited girl obsessed with nicorns
and nature, was now a part of the soil. We
identified her because of the bracelet I gifted her, which
was also covered with blood. Near By, they found a
piece of wood covered with the blood of Kelly, which
was likely the murder weapon. There was no trace of
finger prints, footprints, or any other evidence due to the
torrential rain giving an upper hand to the culprit. Now,
even after thirteen years, they couldn't identify the perpetrator of
this crime. I told this dramatic tale to many, but
there's one detail I always failed to mention. After hitting
the monster, my eyes laid upon the lifeless body of
my best friend, Kelly Adams. I'm the son of an
Army ranger. I'm also the Army's greatest mistake. I always
had a good relationship with my father. He was an
Army veteran, and I would love it when he recounted
war stores about his time in the jungles of Vietnam
or the desserts of Kuwait. He would always tell me
one before bed about his time as an Army ranger
when he led his team to liberate villages, negotiate hostages,
and crush rival troops. He was my hearer. When I
grew older, I already knew that I wanted to go
into the Army. I ate to fight terror and be
as much of a hero as my dad was. I
had trained for years to be in pristine shape. When
I turned eighteen, I put in all the effort my
dad did to achieve his level of prominence. Night blindness
the inability to see tim light or at night, so
I couldn't see as well in the dark. I was ready,
but the Army decided that I wasn't, and with that
my lifelong dream, along with the work I put into it,
was crushed. I was just about to walk out the
door when I felt a tap on my soldier. I
spun around to find an Army of ranger standing in
front of me. The rangel looked down on me and
impressive feet for six feet seven inches shy like myself.
He had a solid but weathered face and a graying
five o'clock shadow, showing to be the only visible hair
on his head. He had to be in his late
fifties to early sixties, but as I showed otherwise, a
hawk's eyes burned holes into my own. As I stared
up at the man, could you come back with me?
Mister the ranger stopped for a second to check the
forms I had filled out at the start of the
examination before bucking out Ferguson. I followed him to one
of the back rooms of the facility, where I sat
facing him and a young Asian man in a white
lap coat labeled doctor Andrewlie. The doctor stared at me
and spoke, So, mister Ferguson, Walter is fine, I interjected.
He looked at me, almost non amused, and repeated, so, Walter,
we see that you are in pristine shaped serve on military. However,
it appears that you suffer from extreme nicctolopia, which forced
us to not be able to accept you into the
nation's military. There is, however, another option. I looked at him,
now intrigued. What is it? Doctor Lee answered, the Army
is looking for ways to helpfully increase the performance of soldiers.
You would make for the perfect test subject. Would you
be willing to join it? For a second, I hesitated.
I thought that maybe I shouldn't do this, that I
should just walk out of this building, become an engineer,
get married, and forget about being in the army. But
my father's face flashed into my mind, and I knew
that there was only one answer. Of course, sir. It
would be another three months before I was flown out
to an disclosed military base in the middle of the wilderness.
I knowed that said base in the US, but I
could not begin to tell you which state it was in.
As soon as we arrived, I was strapped to a
gurney and wheeled to a room that looked exactly like
any of the hospital room minus a window. Understand that
by hospital room I mean horror movie hospital room, the
ones where the light is always on, yet it always
seems too dark, where the white walls always seemed gray.
In the rooms door doubled as a heavy duty locking system.
It was safe to say that I was immediately regretting
my decision. As the door was locked behind US. Doctor
Lee reached into his medical cart and revealed a syringe
filled with from what I can guess, one thousand miller
litters of a clear liquid. As I strained my eyes
to look at it, I noticed the word prode too
you written in the side of it. The doctor inserted
the needle into the crook of my left arm before
unstrapping me. Unleaving Everything felt fine at first, but my
body started taking about half an hour after I was
administered to drug. It honestly felt like my body was
fighting a war on itself. It felt foreign, yet it
felt natural at the same time. My arms fell too
long but too short. My legs felt like they were
growing stronger than ever, but they are feeling as weak
as could pasta. At the same time, my entire body
just felt right and wrong in every way possible. That
is the only thing that can give justice to what
I experienced. After I was given a meal, a preyed.
My dad was not only an army veteran, but he
was also a deeply devorted Christian. My faith is another
part of him that rubbed off on me. That night.
I prayed for the sick and the elderly, but I
prayed for answers too answerstood this experiment, For example, what
was the point? What was happening to me? Why? No answer?
Is game? The same thing happened the next day, Wake up,
get injected with prodage three, He relaxed, prey, fall asleep.
My schedule may have been common, but the side effects
of the medication were not. All that was happening to
me was that I was getting to taller and stronger.
But it just felt wrong. I understand that my body
was changing, but it was changing the way it felt
like it was changing the way it felt It was horrendous,
like my molecules were individually splitting apart. I've no idea
how long passed before the cut. It seemed like a
normal day until I noticed that the medical cut was
bulky than I remembered. I watched him reach and the
cot and pull out a wolf's skull on a knife.
I was suddenly afraid. I thrushed in the restraints as
he moved the knife closer to my head. I passed
out right before the knife touched me. I woke up alone.
The only comfort I have was my dinner. I raised
the navy bean soup to my lips to notice that
their further forward than normal. I lifted the metal spoin
to my face. Something unnatural stared back at me. It
heard a lupine's snout with skins stretched over its elongated
more and a pair of sixteen point out though sticking
out of its head. It looked terrifying, but one factor
made it much more horrifying than the monster itself. That
monster was me. It was then that I prayed harder
than I had ever prayed. I asked God, why why
do I suffer while sinners are relieved? Wise is the
path I am told to take? Why does humanity see
me as the monster instead of the monster wearing a
white lab coat? I was lamenting in my thoughts when
the lights went out. A couple of subjects from a
neighboring plant, three teenage boys name erebis A and Sleddock,
had escaped and cut power to their facility and the
surrounding facilities. With this, all doors were unlocked. As soon
as I realized this, I burst through the now open door.
I ran blindly due to night blindness, trying to escape.
I somehow reached the front doors and flared, not knowing
where I was going until bright light shone ahead of me.
The van stopped as soon as I scrambled out onto
the road. That moment was one of the most terrifying
moments in my life. I thought they'd turned tail and
start running, sliding so wildly that this lamb into tree. Instead,
a young boy with wavy, dirty blonde hair and an
almost square face walked out of the back. Despite the
urgency that could be noticed on his face, it seemed confident,
which was surprising I acknowledging my freakish face in the
fact that he was barely scraping six feet tall. Come on,
he says in a deep voice. I can only stand
and shocked that he talked to me. We can help you.
Just get in the back, he yelled back at me.
That was all it took from his clamber into the
back of the truck. First off, can you talk, the
boy asked inquisitively. I answered a curt yes in reply. Next,
do you have a name, and which I again tersely
responded Walder. The feelings that were suppressed for however long,
came flooding out. I tried to stop it, but I
could still fill t his leaking out of my fienish eyes.
The boy asked me if I was all right, in
which I laid every bit of information I knew upon him,
my rejection from the army, my flight out here, the
laborer's munth's prodigy three, the cut everything. He looked at me, sympathetically,
taking notes and absorbing information. Proverbs twelve ten inches are
the only words that the boy said after everything. What
I answered bewildered Proverbs twelve ten. Whoever is righteous his
regard for the life of his beast, but the mercy
of the wicked is cruel in God's eyes. Enomo an
outcast in the football quarterback or a common house fly,
and there will always be those that see it. You
may never return to normal, but you are as much
of a person as any one else in our care.
You just need to learn to see that, the boy stated.
I looked at that kid, and I felt a sense
of relief wash over me. A truck slowed to a stop,
and I could only assume that we reached our destination.
The boy went to exit the bat but I hurriedly
called out, wait, what is your name? He turned back
to me and replied, my name is Nick, but everyone
here calls me night walker. With that he jumped out
of the van and made his way towards someone seen destination.
I stepped out and gazed up at the night sky
for the first time in what seemed like eons. I
stared up at the heavens and asked for forgiveness for
my rage earlier. I then turned around and walked towards
the large white fortress. I am the son of an
army ranger. I am the Army's greatest mistake. But I
am not a monster, as there are no monsters in
God's eyes.