Speaker 1: What's up and welcome crazy sores to come. Glad you're here.
But first, before we dive in a reminder, I'm sharing
these cases straight from Reddit, ride apps, and public infer
I'm the messenger, not the detective, so don't treat this
as gospel or a verdict. Just a deep dive into
some very strange and entertaining stories. Bouguere, I hope you
enjoy the listen. The helicopter vibrates beneath us, the thundering
sound of its blades drowning out any attempts of conversation.
Outside the window. The vast, barren expanse of the remote
region stretches out before us. We are deep within the
South American rainforests. My eyes are drawn to the darca
on my lap, filled with maps, reports, and images of
the man we're here to save. His name is Marcus Reynolds,
an extreme cave explorer known for his solo expeditions. The
cave we're approaching as his last known location, hidden within
a remote mount in range, miles away from any established
routs of settlements. I take a deep breath, trying to
shake off the unsettling feeling that creeps over me. The
journey ahead of us is uncharted territory, a path taken
only by the missing explorer. I look out of the
helicopter window again, watching as the mantains grow larger. A
jagged peaks clawing at the heavens. Five minutes out, the
pilot's force crackles through the intercolm, breaking my train of thought.
The harsh reality settles in my stomach like a stone.
In a few minutes we will touch down at his
base camp. The helicopter's descent begins, the rotor blades fighting
against them, yielding wind pushing a cyclone of dust and
debris around us. The ground below approaches quickly, a blur
of rough terrain and sparse vegetation. A final lurch and
we land, the chopper, skidding slightly before coming to a halt.
The intense noise of the rotor blades begins to subside,
giving way to the howling wind and my own racing heartbeat.
As I step out, my eyes immediately fall on the
base camp, its early silent, abandoned, like a forgotten monument
to human curiosity. Tents have spread out, their edges flapping
in the relentless wind. A small fire pits its cold
and empty and scattered around o'er a rusting camp stove,
an open map, and a frayed rope. As I turn around,
I see the rest of my team. Daniels, our team leader.
Next is Parker, our technology expert. Then Harper, are medical expert.
Lastly there is Sanchez, a season cave explorer, and then
there is me, a cave rescue specialist. My role is
to guide us safely through the darkness and back to
ensure we all make it out alive. After landing at
the base camp, the team immediately sets to work. The
first priority is to secure the perimeter and establish our
own campsite. Dixon, our pilot, stays with the helicopter. His
job is to maintain contact and provide immediate extraction if necessary.
He's also responsible for monitoring weather conditions. Meanwhile, Parker and
Sanchez focus on setting up the technical and navigational equipment.
Parker connects our gear to the satellite link, ensuring we
have a reliable communications system in real time tracking. Sanchez
asks Belnke unrolls the topographic maps of the region, cross
referencing them with Marcus's exploration knows to map out our
road into the cave. Harper organizes the medical supplies. She
sets up a makeshift infirmary within one of the tents,
complete with first aid kits, emergency response gier in a
variety of medicines. Daniels and our work together to establish
our living quarters. We pitch the tents and secure them
with heavy rocks. We unpack the fruit and water supplies,
rationing them for the duration of our expected stay. After
the tasks are done, we gather around a portable table,
marking the transition from day to night with a simple meal.
Conversation is lay. We speak of past expeditions Downley, back home,
and of course, our speculations about what might have happened
to Marcus. As the orange hyo sunset washes over the
remote landscape, Daniels calls us to gather for the final briefing.
We huddle around the portable table, lit by the glow
of a lantern, with maps and gears spread out before us.
Listen up teen Daniels begins. His voice is firm against
a wind. Tomorrow we embark on one of the most
challenging missions any of us have ever faced. He points
towards the cave marked in our topographic map. His finger,
tracing the proposed route we enter here, follow up the
path Marcus is believed to have taken. Sanchez. You're on
point with nowagation. Sancho's nods in affirmation. Daniels turns to me.
Your job is ensuring we avoid any Danjurer zones within
the cave and guiding us back out. I give a
sharp nod, feeling the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. Parker,
you'll be managing our communication systems, ensuring we remain connected
to Dixon. Daniels continues, shifting his gaze to Parker, who nods,
adjusting his glasses and acknowledgment. Dixon, you monitor the weather conditions,
stay on stand by for extraction, and keep each hue informed.
Dixon's grow voice crackles over the radio roger that Daniel
then looks at Harper. Harper, we need you ready to
handle any medical emergencies. Harper gives a solemn nod. We
have our tasks. We know the mission, Daniel says, leaning back,
his gaze sweeping over each one of us. This won't
be easy. We're going into the unknown, potentially against something
that caused an experience explorer to lose his way. A
sobering silence follows his words as the reality of our
mission sinks in. One by one, we we retreat to
our sleeping quarters. I call into my tent, a small
space clotted with rescue gear and personal items. Settling into
my sleeping bag, I close my eyes and let the
sound of the wind law meet to sleep. Morning greets
us with a cold crisped on some peaks over the
jagged mountain tops, splashing the camp with the soft warmth.
As I unzip my tent, I take a moment to
breathe in the freshness, letting the quiet morning, I fill
my lungs, bracing myself for the day ahead. One by one,
my tea members emerge from their tents. We meet in
the center of our camp, sharing quiet nods of acknowledgement.
We gather around the coal firepit for a quick breakfast.
The mealest bars, dehydrated fruit, cereal bars, and a drink
of water, but no one complains. As the first rays
of the sun begin to fully illuminate the desolate landscape,
we start preparing for the descent. Standing at the entrance
of the cave, I feel a shiver run down my spine.
A mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Sanchez approaches first is headlog,
cutting through the darkness that engulfs the entrance. Slowly, we
switch on our head lamps, the beams of light piercing
the darkness. We start our descent, one cautious step at
a time. The outside world quickly disappears as we dove deeper. Still,
lactitans to lat mights jut out like teeth in a
dull glow of our head lamps. They have grown over centuries,
formed by the patient drip of water on stone. The
air is dense and cool. The silence is punctuated only
by the sound of our footsteps and the distant trip
of water. As we venture deeper, the cave splits into
a network of tunnels, a maze of pathways that meander
off into obecurity. Sanches, with a map and compass in hand,
guides us through. We take the largest tunnel, heading off
west according to our plan. The terrain inside is as
treacherous as it is all in spiry. We scramble over
slippery rocks, squeeze through narrow passages, and repel down vertical drops.
We follow the course of an underground stream for a
while every now and then we stop to catch our
breath to listen to the silence of the cave. Iris
pass like minutes, and we navigate eastward after encountering a
rockful blocking our initial path. We have been moving steadily
deeper into the cave for several iours when Sanches leading
us comes to a sudden hot what's wrong, Daniels calls
from a couple of paces back. His voice bounces off
the stone walls, creating a distorted echo. Sancho's looks back
at us with a worried look on his face. It's
the navigation system, he says, holding up the device. The
screen is flickering. The display of our location now an
erratic Messa scramble date. My heart sinks. It uses a
series of satellite relays and signal boosters to keep track
of our position, even deep within the cave. If it's malfunctioning,
Parker moves quickly to Sancho's side. His hand's already reaching
for the device. Let me see, he says. The rest
of us watch intense silence. Says he works, attempting to
rebute and recalibrate the system. Minutes turn intolong, dreadful moments.
As we wait, I can hear the quiet drip of
water from somewhere deeper in the cave, each drop byching
ominously around us. Parker curses softly, running a hand through
his hair. I don't understand, he mutters. It should be working.
Is there a chance the signals being blocked? Daniels asks,
is Gaye steady on Parker? It's possible, Parker admits, but
I can't see why or how we set up the
boosters correctly, Hawpbird is looking around uneasily, a hand instinctively
going to the medical back strap at her side. So
we're blind, she asks, her voice barely a whisper. We're
not blind, Daniels and the Jacks quickly casting a sharp
look at Hopper before turning back to the rest of us.
We're prepared for this. We have the maps, the compass,
and we've been tracking our path. We stick to the plan.
Despite the decisive words, I can't shake off the feeling
of a knees that's stick and hold. We tread to
a narrower section of the cave. Now the passage twists
and turns in erratic patterns. Overhead, the ceiling hangs low,
forcing us to stoop. I keep one hand on the
jagged wolf for balance, the other clutching my head lump,
casting my light forward. As we round another sharp bend,
Sanchez stops abruptly. His lamp shines on something uphead, something
different from the usual endless expensive rocks. I squint and
take a few steps forward, and a glint of something
metallic catches my eye. They are lying haphazardly against the
stone floor of the cave our items. I move closer
and crouch down my lamp's light, eliminating what looks like
and explorer's back back, worn and covered in dust. Daniels
I call up my voice, echoing I think we've found something.
The rest of the team comes to a halt. Gathering
around the spot, Harper reaches out her glove hand, pulling
the back back open. Among the items inside, we find
a camera, a water bottle, some rope, and a small notebook.
Look at this. Harper hands the notebook to Daniels. It's
Marcus's lug book. Cautiously, Daniels opens the war notebook to
the first marked page, strinting to read the hastily scribbled words.
Day one arrived at the base camp. He read aloud,
his voice echoing off the cave walls. The weather is brutal,
more so than expected. Set up camp near the mouth
of the cave, planning to start the descent tomorrow. Day two,
first day into the cave. The scapegoat. It's far more
massive than any research indicated. Still lactites and stalagmites as
big as buildings found in under ground. River followed it west.
I marked a path back with fluorescent tags. Day three
encountered a rock fall. Had to backtrack and find another
rat may slow progress. There's something off. Can't put my
finger on it. I feel watched, probably just cave jitters
Daniel's flits A few pages forward, his brow furrowing. Day seven.
I'm not alone. Heard whispers in the dark, so shadows moving,
not animals, in something else. Maybe the isolation is getting
to me. Day ten. The whispers won't stop, the court
record in my head. There's something in here with me.
Need to find a way out. The entrants stop abruptly.
There The rest of the page is blank. We share
a heavy silence, the weight of Marcus's words hanging in
the air. A cold shall permeates the space around us.
The implications of his logs settling deep in our bones?
What what do we make of this? Hopper breaks the silence,
her voice barely a Whisperpa picks up the camera from
where it lies on its the other discarded items, waving
off a layer of grime. She presses a button and
the screen flickers to life. We crowd around her, watching
as she navigates through the list of recorded videos. The
most recent one is titled Day ten. She presses play
and the screen changes to a first person view of
the cave. The lighting is similar to our head lamps.
The camera jerks as Marcus's hand comes into view, adjusting
the lens. His breath comes ragged and there is a
tremor in his voice as he speaks Day ten. He begins,
I don't know what's happening. I can hear them, the whispers.
They're not just sounds any more, there there in my head.
The screen shakes as Marcus moves the earer, shapes of
the cave passing by and blowed sweeps. Suddenly, the video
plunges into darkness in a coal hollow. Silence fills the ear,
then faint at first, but steadily growing louder. We hear
it a whispering sound like a wind rustling through dry leaves.
The screen jolts back to life, Marcus's panic breathing filling
the cave. He's running now, the light from his lamp
bouncing off the walls and casting monstrous shadows. I'm not alone,
he gasps, and the camera feed cuts off abruptly, the
screen going black. We're left stirring at the dark screen.
He echoes Marks's desperate voice and those strange whispering sounds,
chilling us to the core. The cameo slits from Harper's fingers,
landing with a muffled thud on the cave floor. That
was Daniel's trails off. Unable to find the words, we
share a look, understanding passing between us. Marcus wasn't just lost,
he was afraid, tormented by something we can't fully grasp.
Harper selects the next one, titled Day eleven. We had
a close with our breaths held awaiting what comes next.
Markus's face appears on the screenless tie, his features washed
in the white light of his head lamp. His eyes
are wide and wild, dark circles underlining them. His skin
is pale, almost translucent, and there's a tremority's voice that
wasn't there in his earlier lock Day eleven. He stops,
his voice, echoing off the cave walls through the chemists beakers.
The whispers are growing louder there. They're not just whispers
any more. They're voices. The camera shakes as Marcus rubs
his temple, a grimace contorting his face. They're telling me things,
things I don't want to hear, things I can't escape from.
He looks straight into the camera, then a desperate plea
in his eyes. I'm not alone. There's something here in
the dark. It's watching me, following me. I can feel it.
The video cuts abruptly to another scene, Marcus running through
the cave. His frantic panting is loud, the camera shaking
wildly as he stumbles and crashes through the darkness. I
can't get out, he cries out, the panic in his voice,
raw and chilling. It won't let me leave. Then, in
a moment that ends chills down Osbine's the whispering returns.
But it's different. This time. It's louder, more discernible, and
it feels like it's not just a product of the wind,
of the natural acoustics of the cave. It sounds again inhuman.
The scream goes black, and all that's left is the
sound of Marcus's terrified breathing and the alien whispers, an
unholy symphony that haunts the silence of the cave. The
video ends abruptly, leaving us in silence. The remaining videos
on Marcus's camera paned chilling narrative of his spiraling descent
into madness. In the day twelve in recording, Marcus is
moving slower. The weight of his situation is evident in
his sluggish stets. The whispers are constant. Now, marcus dialog
is most sporatic, and when he speaks, his words are
punctuated with fear and confusion. By day fourteen, he stopped
moving entirely, sitting slump against the cave wall. His words
are disjointed, and the sentences he forms a nonsensical. He
claims the voices are speaking directly to him, telling him
terrible things, haunting truce about himself he can't bear to confront.
Day fifteen in is the most brutal yet. Marcus is sobbing.
The camera is guarded haphazardly to the side. The angle
catchures him huddled in a corner, his body shivering. The
whispers are louder, no longer just background noise. It's a
a fair cunning from the camera itself. Marcus aubs turn
into screams and is pleased for the voices to stop,
become a haunting echo in the cavernous expanse. The camera
shakes as harp A selects the final video mark day sixteen.
Our heart beats thunder in our ears as the video
starts to play. The sight that greets us is haunting.
Marcus is no longer in the labyrinthine tunnels we've been navigating. Instead,
he standing in the middle of an expansive cavern of
vast forwards stretching out all around him. The meager light
from his head lump fails to pierce the vast darkness,
and the entire scene is enveloped in a neary sense
of isolation. Marcus looks into the camera one last time.
His eyes are wide with a mix of terror and resignation.
His lurked move, but no sound comes out. He takes
a deep breath, mouthing a silent goodbye to the camera.
Then he turns around, facing the endless void in front
of him. His figure becomes smaller and smaller, until it's
swallowed by the darkness, leaving the camera to record nothing
but the unfathomable darkness and the now deafening whispers. The
video ends with a sudden cut, the screen going blank,
leaving us in the depth of our thoughts. We sit
in silence for a moment, the oppressive darkness of the
cave wrapping around us like a shroud. Finally, Harper breaks
the silence. What was there, she asks, her voice echoing
off the cavern walls. She's bail, her usually steady hand,
shaking slightly. I don't know. Daniels admits, running a hand
over his face. I've never seen anything like it. Nate Parker, ever,
the scientist is deep in thought. Could it be some
kind of psychological response to extreme isolation, auditory hallucinations brought
on by the oppressive environment, Our shirk, uncertainty gnawing at me? Maybe?
But those whispers, they were on the videos too, We
all heard them. That's more than hallucination. A shudder runs
through Harper. What about the end? Marcus walked into that
void as if being called by something or someone. We
have to consider the possibility, I add, pet forming in
my stomach that there might be something else in here
with us. Silence descends on us once more, the air
heavy with our collective fear. We pick up Marcus's belongings,
carefully shouldering our gear as we prepare to venture deeper
into the cave. We follow the route Marks seems to
have taken base on the clues in his videos. We
progressed a narrow tunnel that fears to the left. The
only sound is the echo of our footsteps and the
distant drip of water, and the whispers begin to grow
louder and more pronounce the deeper we venture. As we
dell further, our headlands cast lawn moistra shadows on the walls.
The cave seems to be alive, the shapes moping and
shifting as we move. It's easy to see how Marcus
might have started to see things in the darkness, his
mind playing tricks on him. Yet it's hard to shake
off the unnerve feeling that we're not alone. The passage
eventually opens up into a large chamber filled with stalactts
and still lapmites that tips glistening in the artificial light.
The chamber is empty save for a discarded water bottle
and a rip piece of Marcus's map. It seems he
was here, his journey charted by the fragments he left behind.
Harper picks up the piece of the map, tracing the
quickly marked path he was trying to map his way out.
She murmurs a note of sorrow in her voice. Daniels
retrieves the water bottle, examining it halfall he must have
had to ration, it supplies, assuming he was lost. We
document the findings and cant on our path. We navigate
a series of twisting tunnels, stuck under low ceilings, and
scramble over rocky out crops. Every corner we turn, every
chamber we enter, we expect to find Marcus. Yet we're
met with nothing but the cold, echoing silence. The deeper
we delve, the more pronounced the whispers become. Knowing at
the edges of our sanity, our rational minds tell us
that it's just the echoes, the trick of the acoustics.
In is fast underground labyrinth. But it's hard to remain
logical when your senses are telling you something entirely different.
The hallucinations start subtly. Harper is the first dimension them.
Do you see that, she asks, pointing the shadows they're moving.
I squint, trying to see what she's pointing at. The
shadows do seem to shift, but it's easy to dismiss
it as a trick of the light. It's just our
head lamps, harper, I reassure her, although I'm not entirely
convinced myself. But then I start to see it two
phases in the rock formations. I blink hard, shaking my
head to clear it, but the faces remain. A cold
shiver runs down us. Soon Parker and Daniel start experiencing
similar phenomena. Parker stops dead in his tracks as wide
as he stares at something we can't see. There are
eyes watching us, he mutters. Daniels tries to laugh it off,
but I catch the way his gaze darts around the cave,
his gripe tightening on his gear. The voices aren't just
whispers anymore. They've grown louder and clearer, as if they're
right beside us. They murmur in the language we can't understand.
It's an insistent, invasive presence that burrows into our minds.
Our senses are assaulted from all directions, the voices in
our ears, the visions before our eyes, the unsattling feeling
of being watched fierce starts to take hold, creeping into
our minds like the very shadows were surrounded by. We
take a break, trying to collect our thoughts and regain
our composure. We don't speak of what we're experiencing. Is
becoming increasingly evident that the terror Markus faced wasn't just
a result of his isolation. Something in this cave is
manipulating our senses and preying on our fear, just like
it did with him. We continue onward and the tunnel
begins to widen, the space opening up into an expansive cavern.
It's the same cavern we saw in Marcus's last video log.
A chill runs through me as I recognize the ominous
void that swallowed Marcus in the recording. Our lightsweet the cavern,
the beams are swallowed by the darkness. It's thin that
Daniel's like catches something figure huddled against the far wall
of the cavern. As we approach, the figure becomes clear.
It's Marcus. He's a shadow of its former self. His
hair is a wild tangle, his beard and matted mess.
He's swaying slightly, his vacant eyes stirring into the black
void of the cavern, his lips moving in a silent whisper.
His skin is pale, but it's the look in his
eyes that is truly chilling. There hollow, a window to
a tormented soul. He doesn't seem to recognize us, even
as we call out him. As we get closer, I
can make out some of what he's saying, disjointed phrases
and words, fragments of the men as that's consumed him, watching,
always watching. He whispers, his voice of ghostly echo in
the vast chain, his trembling fingers clawed the dirt. His
eyes are wide with fear, can't escape the eyes. Our
relief at finding Marcus's short lived as the reality of
our situation sets in. We're deep within this hostile cave,
haunted by voices and hallucinations, and now faced with the
daunting task of getting Marcus out safely. We approach Marcus cautiously,
Marcus dewnos culse gently crouching down next to him, but
Marcus doesn't respond. His gaze is unfocussed, lost in some
distant terror Parker moves closer, attempting to assess his physical condition,
while Harper and I keep a worry eye on our surroundings.
The voices seem to intensify. Suddenly, Marcus recoils, his voice
rising to a scream. Ah, they're coming, They're coming, he cries,
scrambling away from us. We try to calm him and
reassure him, but it's as if we're not there. Harper
tries next, her voice soothing Marcus. It's says you're safe.
We're here to help, she says, reaching out to him.
For a moment, he seems to see her panics. Subsiding slightly.
He reaches out a shaky hand, clutching host tightly, but
then a low rumble echoes through the cavern. The ground
beneath us vibrates, and our head lamps flicker. Our hearts
sees with fear as the whispers grow into a deafening roar.
Something invisible moves through the cavern, a presence we can't see,
but we can feel. It passes through us, intense cold
that send shivers down our spines. Marcus screams again. When
it passes, we're left in silence. Our headlamps flicker back
to life, casting an eerie glow in the cavern. Marcus
is trembling, but quieter now. He clings to Harper. His
eyes are wide and pleading. We need to move now,
Daniel's orders, the fear in his voice is barely masked.
We hastily pack up our gear and help Marcus to
his feet. He's weak, barely able to stand, but Harper
supports him with her arm around his waist. We begin
the long journey back through the cave. Marcus clings to Harper,
his whispered ramblings a continuous echo in the oppressive silence.
The whispers we've been hearing since we descended are now constant.
We retrace our steps, the stalactite, full chamber, the narrow
cross base, the lawn winding tunnels. However, the cave seems
different now, as if it's alive, shifting and changing around us.
Half Ways that were opened before seen to be narrowing,
and the rock formations are more pronounced. We push the
unsettling thought away, chalking up to our stress, minds playing
tricks on us. Suddenly, a loud crack echoes through the cavern.
We freeze our head lamps, swinging toward the sauce. The
cave wall to our left is fracturing, a network of
cracks spurning across its surface. We can only watch in
horrified anticipation as the cracks widen. Then, with a final
echoing rumble, a section of the woll collapses. The dust
takes a while to settle, and when it does, we
find a pathway blocked by a pile of rocks and debris.
Our path back is cut off. Stake on Daniel's commands,
his voice cutting through our sheared terror. There's more than
one way out of here. We'll find another route. Despite
his confident words, the reality is chilling. The cave is unpredictable,
hostile even We're not just fighting against time now, we're
fighting against the cave itself. We continue on an alternate path,
guided by a mixture of our faltering navigational system and memory,
but every step takes us deeper into uncharted territory. The
voices grow louder, the feeling of being watched intensifies, constant
reminder of the unseen energy that lurks with the knee shadows.
The manness that took cold of Marcus is now threatening
to engulf us but we can't give in. We have
to keep moving. Marcus's condition worsens. He's trembling and his
eyes are wild. His words are chaotic makes of pleas
and warnings. We try to soothe him, but our words
barely register. Marx's condition continues to deteriorate. His ramblings grow quieter,
is body weaker. We share the weight, alternating between supporting
him and scouting ahead. We press on our resolve and wavering.
Every echo, every whisper feels like its growing louder, chasing
us through the winding tunnels. The cold seems to seep
into our very bones, sapping our strength. We start seeing
things in the corners of our eyes, fleeting shadows, moving figures.
It's difficult to distinguish between the madness of the cave
and our own creeping terror. As we trudge along a
narrow ledge, overlooking a deep abyss, a sudden dear splitting.
The screech echoes through the cavern. We clutch the walls,
the sound vibrating through the rock under our hands. Mock
As screams, thrashing wildly, and Harper struggles to keep him
from toppling over the edge, just as suddenly as it began.
The screech dies down, replaced by a nearer silence that's
just as unnerving. We stand frozen, our breasts hitching in
our throats. That wasn't Daniel starts, but his voice trails off.
We don't need him to finish. That was a sound
a cave makes. That was something else, something living. Let's
keep moving. I managed to whisper am a voice horse.
The others not, Their faces pale under the beams of
their head lamps. We press on, traversing the ledge with
increased caution. When we finally make it across, we find
a tunnel that spirals upwards. A feeling of hope surges
within us, an ascent. We could be nearing the surface.
We held more orchestra his feet, his eyes glossed over
but aware. He doesn't fight us, but his fear is palpable.
Too many eyes. He keeps repeating, his voice shaking. The
tunnel is steep and treacherous, and our progress is slowed
by loose gravelent slick damp rocks. We keep a tight
grip on Marcus, pulling him along, reassuring him that we're close.
The voices are almost deafening now the cold gnawing at us,
The hallucinations persist, shadows darting in and out of our vision.
Suddenly there is a low rumble and the ground beneath
the shakes of rockslide. We scramble out of the way,
pulling Marcus along. Rocks tumble down the incline, a cloud
of dust billowing around us. We cough and our eyes
start to water. When the dust clears, we find the
tunnel blocked, the way up cut off. A sense of
despair washes over us, but we can't afford to give in,
not wonder this close. We need to find another way,
Daniel says, his voice determined. We backtrack, searching for a
branching path away around the rock slide. There's an arrow
opening to our left, barely large enough for a person
to fit through. It's our only option. With a collective
style and agreement, we squeeze through. Eventually we emerge into
another tunnel. This one is wider and the incline is
less steep. We allow ourselves a moment of rest. As
we navigate the new tunnel, we begin to hear something
else amongst the whispers, a faint but growing roar water.
We pick up our pace, and then we see it.
We run as quickly as we can, dragging Marcus alon.
The tunnel opens up to a large chamber filled with water.
The ceiling is a network of cracks that lead in
a meager stream of daylight. We found a way out,
but we're not out yet. A whoop, Daniels yells over
the roar of the water. Pocket digs through his pack,
pulling out a coil. We tie one end around Marques.
Then Daniels and I take the plunge, pulling ourselves against
the current. The water is freezing and the current is strong,
but the side of daylight, the promise of escape from
the madness fuels us. We reach the other side, anchoring
the rope and pulling Marcus across. One by one, we
clamber up the rocks toward the cracks in the ceiling.
The whispers rise in volume, then are abruptly cut off
as we break through to the surface. We collapse on
the rocky ground, panting and shivering. Our body is aching
and our minds reeling. But we're out. We've escaped the cave.
We lay there under the open skies. Relief washes over us.
Daniels pulls out our satellite phone. With shaky fingers, he
dials Dixon's number. Dixon is Daniels, he starts. The tension
around us eases slightly as he listens to Dixon's response.
There we found him. Marcus is alive or died, but
he's in a bad state. We need medical assistance. There's
appaus as Dixon's bonds. I can't make out the words,
but I can hear the relief in his voice. We're
out of the cave, but we didn't emerge from the
original entrance. We were forced to find another way out.
He looks around, squinting at the unfamiliar landscape. We're on
the side of a mountain of a looking of valley
with dense four stretching out below us. There's no discernible
landmark in side, no easy way to describe our location.
It's difficult to say exactly where we are. Dinalds admits,
a note of frustration creeping into his voice. Am On,
he passes pocket the phone, pointing at the GPS app.
You're better with this text stuff. Find our coordinates. Taking
the phone, Poker pulls up the GPS. It takes a
few nerve iracking moments to load but eventually our coordinates
pop up on the screen. Poker reads them out to Daniels,
who repeats them to Dixon. For all that dirt, hurry Dixon,
Marcus needs help. He ends the call, handing me back
the phone. We all exchange looks. Our relief palpable but
tempered by a critical state of our friend. We huddle
around Marcus, doing our best to keep him warm and
comfortable while we wait for help. As the minutes tick by,
turning into an ir then too, we watch the sky.
When the sound of helicopter blades finally reaches us, it's
like music to our ears. The chopper appears over the
tree tops. We wave frantically, our floes painting the sky
with desperate streaks of red. The helicopter circles us once,
then starts its descent. Help us arrived. Finally we've made
it out. Last summer, my friends Ashley, Brandon, Chelsea, and
I decided to go on a camping trip together in
the woods of northern Minnesota. We had been for INDs
since high school and wanted to reconnect out in nature
before going our separate ways for college. We packed up
passles a TV with our tents, sleeping bags, another camp
and gear. We stopped at the grocery store to pick
up food and drinks for the weekend. Then we hit
the road, driving several iOS north to reach the remote
forests of Minnesota's wilderness. Around dusk, we turned off the
main highway onto a narrow, winding back road. The paved
road soon turned to gravel as we ventured deeper into
the woods. After almost an iro bumping down the dirt road,
it opened up to a small clearing Our camps out
for the weekend. We eagerly set up our two tents
side by side. Brandon and I would share one tent,
while Ashley and Chelsea shared the other. A circle of
stones marked the camp fire pit. With night falling fast,
we skept dinner and decided to start a fire right away.
The crackling fire and blowing ambers lit up the pitch
black waters around us. We laughed and joked, roasting hot
dogs and making us moores over the flames. Sitting around
the fire, we caught up on everything new in our lives,
summer jobs, college plans, new relationships. The conversation flowed easily
between us, long time friends for now the busy life
of waiting back home felt far away. As the fire
died down to glowing coals. One by one my friends
grew tired. We set our good knights and zipped ourselves
into our sleeping bags. The last two of us doused
the fire with water until smoke no longer rose from
the ashes. Soon the clearing was silent and dark, except
for the bright moon overhead. I woke up the next
morning to sunlight streaming and through the nile on tent walls.
Brandon was still softly snoring in his sleeping bag next
to me. I quietly grabbed my watch off the maytrifft
nights time we had created from a stump. It was
nearly nine a m. I unzipped the tenth flap and
stepped out into the brisk morning air. The clearing looked
beautiful bad In dawn's light, rays of sunlight filtered down
through the tall pines surrounding our camp. Soon I heard
stirrings from the girl's tenters. Ashley and Chelsea began waking up.
Before long, we were all up and making a quick
breakfast of footmell and coffee over the camp fire coals.
Once fed, we decided to go on a hike to
explore the area. We packed light day packs with some
water and snacks. Ashley had a trail map that showed
the twisting network of trails. Criscussing the landscape, Let's check
out Blue Lake, she suggested, pointing to a blue dot
on the mat about five miles north. We all agreed
and headed out, led by Ashley and her map. The
trails started out wide, but soon narrowed as we hiked
deeper into the woods. Towering pine and spruce tree shaded
us from the morning sun. The scent of pine needles
and moss hung in a crisp bare After a couple
of miles, we stopped in the sunny clearing to catch
our breath and take our water break. Chelsea spotted some
white while blue berries, so we snapped in the tiny
sweet bearers. As we rested. Refreshed, we continued on until
the trail descended down a rocky slope. At the bottom,
we emerged onto the pristine shoreline of Blue Lake. Brendan
let out an impressed whistle at the beautiful scene. As
we emerged from the wooded trail, sparkling expanse of Blue
Lake suddenly came into view. We all stopped short, stunned
by the incredible sight. The lake was perfect, leaving by
tall pines that jutted into the sky. Their pointed tips
were reflected onto the smooth as glass surface of the water.
The lake stretched out before us, an unbroken blue that
faded into the hazy distance. On the far shore, layers
of bluish purple mountains rose up, framing the pristine scene.
Aside from the trees rustling in the breeze, silence hung
over the lake. It felt like we had stumbled into
a secret corner of wilderness paradise. We slowly made our
way down to the rocky shore, not wanting to disturb
the serene atmosphere. Sitting on the sun warm stones, we
took off our hiking boots and defartees into the refreshing water.
I trailed by fingers across the surface, sending out ripples
across the deep blue. It was so clear I could
see small mane was darting around below. We sat down
on some large rocks and took off our broots to
depot feet in a crystal clear water. After enjoying the
views for a while, we reluctantly decided we should start
heading back to make it to camp before dusk. Hey, guys,
wait up, I called after ashes and Brandon. They were
way ahead on the trail, moving fast with the steady
speed controlling their long legs. Chelsea and I tried to
keep up, but were both shorter and had to take
quicker steps. After hurrying around another bend, I saw Ashley
and Brandon come to a sudden stop. Up ahead. They
stood frozen, staring at something. Chelsea and I finally caught
up to them, huffing and puffing. What's up, guys, I asked,
leaning over to catch my breath. Without a word, Brandon
simply pointed straight ahead. I followed where he was pointing,
and felt my eyes go wide. There, nestled between the
thick pine trees was a small ancient graveyard. It was
overgrown with wheat and brush. The dozen of so headstones
were cracked and so weather worn that the names engraved
on them were no longer legible. I felt a chill
go down my spine as we all stood there looking
at the earside. The graveyard seemed forgotten by tim tucked
away in this remote part of the woods. Chelsea moved
closer to me, also creeped out. After the initial shock
of discovering the hidden graveyard wore off, we slowly walked
through it, carefully weaving between the haphazardly placed grave marker.
The ground was uneven and rocky, with thorny wheat sprouting
up everywhere. The gravestones were in various states of decay.
Some were intact with engravings still partly visible. Others had
cracked down the middle, while were so well worn that
the writing was entirely gone. There seemed to be no
order or arrangement to the placement of the stones. I
paused by one tilting stone and tried to make out
the faded lettering. All I could gleam was a last
name ending in enough In to Stey, to Burgh, and
about the year from the l eighteen hundreds. These people
had been forgotten by time, with no one left attend
their final resting places. The pine trees surround in the
graveyard added to the gloomy atmosphere. The shadowy branches stretched
over head, blocking out the afternoon sunlight. Everything was eerily
still and quiet among the gravestones, as if frozen in time.
Chelsea knelt by one of the few intact headstones, gently
wiping away. The moster revealed the engraved name Margaret Wilson
eighteen sixty seventy eighteen ninety two. She read aloud. She
was only twenty five years old when she died. I
wondered what Margaret's life had been like, and how was
cut so tragically short. There must have been at least
twenty graves, maybe more, hidden under layers of dead pine
needles and leaves. As we picked our way carefully among
the graves, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of invading
someone's resting place. The graveyard felt hauntingly isolated and attended.
I kept glancing around, almost expecting ghostly figures to appear.
This place is weird. Ashley finally sad voicing what we
were all thinking, we should probably get out of here.
We all murmured in agreement something about the neglected old
graveyard gave me the creeps. We turned and hurried back
the way we had come. Suddenly eager to get back
to our camps at before nightfull eager to leave the
unsettling graveyard behind, we hurried back on to the hiking trail.
The surrounding would suddenly seem darker and denser. After our discovery.
We walked closely together, glancing nervously over our shoulders every
so often. The hike back felt longer than before. With
every bend in the trail, I hoped to see the
camps a clear and come inter view, but the forest
seemed endless. Shadows stretched over the path As the sun
sank glorer in the sky. We eventually stopped talking and
focused intently on navigating the winding trail. The only sounds
were our footsteps crunching on the dirt path and branches
rustling in the breeze. I strained my ears irrationally, listening
for any strange noises behind us. Just as the creeping
our knees was becoming too much, we finally reached a
ridge and saw our camp site down below. Relief washed
over me. The sun had almost fully set by the
time our feet hit the soft grass of the clearing chelsea.
Wasted no time getting a fire going again. We gladly
shut our packs and crowded close to the crackling warmth
and light. After dinner, we let the fire burn down
to glowing embers. As dark as fully enveloped our camp.
The moon was just a thin crescent, providing little light
Beyond the narrow ring of firelight, the dense woods were
a pitch black void. No one wanted to wander far
from the fire, so we passed the time telling stores
and roasting marshmallows for us Moores. Brandon tried to lighten
the mood by telling funny camphi tales, but our laughed
always faded quickly. The surrounding darkness seemed to close in
on us. I couldn't stop glancing over my shoulder, half
expecting to see a pale face peering back at me
from the trees. The fire crackled and cast flickering shadows
across our faces. Every little noise made me jump, the
snap of a burning lock, an owl hooting in the distance.
Even my friends seemed subdued as the night dragged on.
Remember that creepy old graveyard we found, as Lee said,
with a nervous laugh, breaking the uneasy silence, We all nodded.
Can you imagine if those ghosts are wandering the woods
right now looking for us? Not funny, ash Chelsea said,
her voice quivering slightly. She scooted her lawn chair even
closer to the fire. I tried to shrug off Ashle's comment,
but I couldn't ignore the shiver running down my spine,
the surrounding which suddenly seem full of sinister shadows. I
thought about all those nameless graves left neglected and forgotten
for decades deep in the forest. Let's talk about something else,
Brandon said firmly, but the conversation remained sporadic and stilted.
One by one we started drifting off to our tents
as exhaustion overcame the creepy atmosphere. I changed quickly into
sweatpins in the sweatshirt, wanting as much coverage as possible.
While I slept, I left my cap on for good measure,
sipping up my sleeping bag. I felt like I kid
at the slumber party after hearing a scary story. Every
little sound made me jerk in my sleeping bag. Brandon
soft snores from the neighboring tent were at least a
small comfort. Eventually, sheer tiredness upweighed my irrational fear. Just
as I finally drifted off, I thought I heard the
crunching of footsteps somewhere out of millwoods. That sleep pulled
me under before I could think to be alarmed. I
woke slowly blinking against the sunlight filtering into our tent.
For a brief moment, I forgot where I was. Then
it came rushing back the camping trip, telling goes stories
round the fire, finding that creepy hidden graveyard. I sat
up quickly, looking around. Some off mine and Brandon's things
had been moved in the night. My watch was in
a different spot, and our shoes weren't lined up neatly
by the door any more. Brandon, wake up, I said,
shaking his shoulder. I think some one was messing with
our stuff last night. He lifted his head, grows ugly
and looked around. What the hell, he said, noticing the changes.
Did one of the girls come in here siding? I
don't think so, I said uneasily. I felt a chill
thinking about the eerie graveyard we had found. Could those
ghosts be haunting us? We hurriedly put on our shoes
and zipped the tent flap. Ashley and Chelsea were already
up standing around the ashes of last night's fire. They
looked freaked out. Did you guys come into our tent
last night? Brandon asked them, No way, Ashley said, shaking
her head. But I think something was in IROs all
my stuff got moved around, and a barely slut because
it felt like someone was standing right over me. Chelsea nodded,
looking pale. I woke up and thought I saw this
dark figure by the tent door, but when I sat up,
it disappear. A heavy silence fell over the four of
us As we surveyed the two tents. Objects had clearly
been disturbed and both overnight. This didn't seem like a prank.
A nervous chill went through me. Let's just make some
breakfast and pack up, I finally said, trying to shake
off the creepy feeling. I started gathering kindling for a
fire while the others went through their tents. They were
kept glancing round, swearing he was seeing things move out
of the corner of his eye, but every time he
turned there was nothing except trees. We quickly layed some
eggs and bacon before taking down our tents. No one
wanted to linger at this campsite any more. As we
packed everything into the car, I couldn't shake the uneasy
feeling that we were being watched from the woods. A
few hours later, we had left the winding dirt road
and creepy camp site far behind. I breathed a deep
sigh of relief as Ashley drove her. As you v
down the smooth highway into Biggertown, the familiar sites of
gas stations, shopping centers, and people milling about on sidewalks
were comforting. After spending two days isolated in remote woods,
we decided to find a nice public lake to relax
out for the afternoon. After stopping for a quick fast
through lunch, we followed signs leading to a large recreational
lake just outside of town. Ashley pulled into a pat
parking lotful families and loading collars and launch aers. This
place looks perfect, said David, as we stepped out into
the hot, sunny days st chretched our legs. The sparkling
blue lake stretched out before us, dotted with people swimming, boating,
and lounging on the sandy beach. After the quiet loneliness
of the woods, the cheerful buzz of activity felt reassuring.
We found an open spot on the beach to roll
out our towels and stripped down to our swimsuits. I
saghed happily as I immediately waded into the refreshing water.
It was the perfect temperature after baking in the sun.
Chelsea and Ashley joined me, and we swam leisurely around,
chatting and floating on our backs to gaze up at
the few fluffy white clouds drifting across the bright blue sky.
The normalcy of laughing with friends in a crowded the
lake was just what I needed after the weekend strangeness.
After a while, we climbed back onto the beach to
lay out and let the warm sun dry us off.
David and Brandon were tossing a football back and forth
near by. I tilted my face up, part enjoying the
heat on my skin after being in the shady woods.
But even with the hot sun and the buzz of
people around us, I couldn't fully relax. When I closed
my eyes, I kept imagining the creepy hidden graveyard deep
in the forest, and the prickly feeling of being watched
wouldn't leave me. I sat up and scanned the tree
line around the lake, half expecting to see a dark
figure looking there, but there was only families laughing together
on pittic blankets and kids building sandcustles. Still and nagging
unease lingered in my gut want to go hit the
snack bar. Brandon ass flopping down on his towel beside
me and pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I readily agreed,
needing the distraction. We bought cold sodas and hot French
fries dripping in ketchup, and found a pictic table in
the shade to enjoy our snack. Brandon kept the conversation light,
talking about our upcoming freshman year of college. I tried
my best to focus on his words rather than peering
suspiciously at the people around us. The afternoon passed quicker
than I hoped. Before long, the sun was getting low,
casting a golden glow over everything. The crowd started thinning
out as people packed up to head home for dinner.
None of us wanted this day to end. Walking slowly
back to the car, I glanced over my shoulder one
last time at the glistening lake, surrounded by trees just
starting to be tinged with sunset's light. That night, we
found a busy campground with plenty of other people around.
Safety in numbers, we figured we picked a sight right
in the middle of everything and got a fire going
as dusk fell, but sitting around the crackling flames, no
one felt much like telling girls stories of staying up late.
The usual camping merriman just wasn't there. We were all
exhausted from the previous nights of disturbed sleep, plagued by
strange occurrences. One by one, my friends turned in early,
until only dying embers remained alone in my tent. I
changed quickly and zipped into my sleeping bag, but sleep
felt far off. I couldn't relax, still shaken by the
feeling of being watched and followed from our lost camp site.
Every tiny noise put me on alert and now hooded,
making me jowled Upright next, I heard us gittering in
the lees outside the tent. That set my heart racing.
Get a grip, I told myself, you're being ridiculous, But
rational thought was losing out to creeping fear. Somewhere near by,
I twig snapped ludly, like a branch breaking under foot.
This time, I couldn't chalk it up to wild life.
It sounded like a heavy footstep. I held my breath,
listening hard. Then so faintly I thought, maybe I imagined
it came the crunch of more slow footsteps around the tent.
I shook Brandon's shoulder urgently, but he was dead asleep.
My pulse pounded in my ears. The footsteps seemed to continue,
pacing steady circle around where we lay. I thought about
yelling out, but the words caught in my tetdrope. I
woke with a start, my heart already racing. Something had
disturbed my rustle asleep, but I wasn't sure what. I
lay still straining to hear any noise over the pounding
of blood in my ears. Beside me, Brandon was softly snoring,
dared to the world outside. The night was deathly quiet.
The darkness in the tent was stifling, like it was
slowly smothering me. I blindly reached for my phone and
flipped in the flashlight. That's when I heard it again,
a rustling ride outside the ten flaps. Adrenaline spiked through
my veins. I shoved brand In urgently until he woke
with the grunt blinking against the bright flashlight beam. This
some one outside the tent. I whispered harshly, as if
on hue. A shadow passed in front of the light,
blocking it briefly. A dark figure was standing directly outside.
Brandon's eyes widened as we scrambled backward. My mind reeled
bare murder ghost. Before I could scream a blood curdling
cry aim from the neighboring tent, Chelsea. We burst from
the tent, and Chelsea came flying out of hers, colliding
into us with his street cheeks. I gripped her shaky shoulders,
panking what happened? Are you okay that there was someone
right there? She cried, pointing a trembling finger at her
tent entrance. The adrenaline course through me. As we scanned
the dark camp site, a neary silence had returned. I
woke up and saw the shadowy things standing over me.
Chelsea stammered through panted breaths. I screamed, and it was
just gone. We need to get out of here, Brandon
said urgently. Ashley emerged from the tent, white eyed, without
a word. We hastily crowned into one tent, huddling together
in terror. Sleep did not return. Morning life finally appeared
after the longest night of our lives. As soon as
it was bright enough, we hurried out to pack everything up.
Thus when we noticed the symbols. Some sort of ancient
ruins moved into the dirt around our tent. They hadn't
been there yesterday. What the hell? David muttered as we
stared down at the unsettling morkings. I followed the distinct
footprints that circled where we had slept. Whoever or whatever
had visited us was not shy about leaving its chilling mark.
Let's just go, Ashley said, shakily. We threw everything haphazardly
into the car, not even bothering to take down the tents.
I felt nauses as I imagined their shadowy presents, looking
unseen in a bright morning light, watching us flee. But
when Brandon turned a key in the ignition, the engine
just clicked and sputtered. The battery was completely dead. He
slammed his hands against the steering wheel. Are you kidding me?
We were trapped, forced to spend another night in this nightmare.
I wanted to cry, but panic had hardened inside me.
We had to prepare. We need to apply, as I said,
fied feud weapons. The others nodded grimly as we hurred
to gather what we could. I noticed the woods had
gone silent and still not one bird chirped. It seemed
the force itself was holding out breath, waiting. The thing
that had tormented us was nowhere to be seen in
the harsh sunlight, but its presence still chirked the air
like smoke. As the sun sank lowdra crept over us.
We had to prepare as best we could for another
night in these cursed woods. First we gathered all the
fire which we could find, building up a formidable stack.
We arranged the logs in a tight circle around where
we would sleep, creating a barrier between us and the
encroaching darkness. Next, we took stock of potential weapons. The
small hatchet and hunting knife from Brandon's camping gear were
sharp into fine edge. Holding the knife's coal handle, I
felt only marginally safer man made weapons would be little
use against the vengeful spirit, but they brought some comfort. Nonetheless,
we scoured the camp site for anything else useful. A
coll of rope, a flare gun with one precious flare,
and a flush lad ridded to our arsenal. We fell
pots and conteens with water, anticipating a long cold night.
Head trapped in a tent before darkness fell, we packed
our bags with the essentials in case we needed to
abandon camp and flee on foot, heavy jackets, boots. Lighter
is a compus. He prepared for every scenario, like wolderness
survival experts, but nothing could really prepare us for what
light dot there. When the final light had faded, we
crawled into the tent, sipping it up tightly. We sat rigid,
straining our ears against the silence. The crackling fire outside
cast flickering shadows across the nile on walls. I nearly
screamed when a moth battered loudly against the tent ceiling
nerves were freed to their very edges. Eventually we laid down,
leaving the flasklight on its brightest beam. Even bundled up
in my sleeping bag, a boned, deep chill had settled
into my body. No one bothered trying to sleep. We
lay tents as drawn bow strings, waiting. The small hatchet
lay within reach should I need to slash my way
out of the tent. But escaping into the pitch blackwood
seemed just as dangerous as staying put. We had no
choice but huddle in the small halo of light and
pray for sunrise time, crackt by at a torturous pace.
Every tiny noise outside amplified tenfold in my heightened senses,
a owl, a squirrel, or something more sinister. There was
no way to know I. As we lay captive in
the tent, every tiny noise from outside caused us to flinch.
Fortified now on shell amplified, each kracker snap into shot
bursts of sound. Even my own shaky breath seemed deafening. Finally,
Chelsea's whisper sliced the thick silence. Do you guys hear that?
We listened closer. The crackle of footsteps on leaves circled
just outside the tent was back for us. Then whispers
floated around us, but they were too gobbled to decipher
our words. Next, pale, shadowy shapes drifted between the trees,
only glimpsed from the corners of our eyes before vanishing again.
Brandon gasped and pointed to a dark mass passing through
the tent that brought an icy chill inside. Huddling shoulder
to shoulder for some semblance of bravery, we braced ourselves
as the sounds continued. The malevolent presence was toying with us,
taking sadistic pleasure in our terror. I had never felt
so small and powerless. As the whispers resumed, circling closer outside,
Chelsea buried her head against my shoulder, sobbing softly. I
didn't bother, offering hollow words of reassurance. The temperature inside
the tent plummeted rapidly, cutting through our layers of clothing
and making a shiver uncontrollably. Then the walls began billowing
and contorting in patterns manipulated by other woldly gusted air
or was it an inhuman hand grasping at the nilon shell.
I'm not sure. There was nowhere to run, and nothing
left to do but huddle together in the small halo
of land in light as the unrelenting supernatural assault continued.
Exhausted and trembling with primal fear, we could only pray
we'd make it to sunrise, but scape seemed doubtful. Huddled
together in the small tent, we gasped as an icy
chul suddenly pierced the air. Our breath came out in
white paths. As the temperature plummeted rapidly. Something was coming
without warning, the tent began bucking and swaying violently, as
if caught in storm. We screamed and clutched each other
against the chaos. A dark shadow swooped overhead, blotting out
the London light for at blood second. It's here, Chelsea cried.
As quickly as it started, the commotion ceased. We pented
into the stillness, peering wide eyed around the tent. A
lingering cold permeated everything. Then I felt Chelsea's grip on
my arm tightened and her finger nails dug into my forearm.
It's got me, she shrieked. I walled to see her
being dragged across the tent floor by an invisible force.
We for her flailing arms and legs as she slid
towards the door. Don't let it take me, Chelsea begged,
tears streaking her cheeks. WE straining to hold on, but
some dark energy yanked back harder, grabbed the stakes. Brandon yelled.
We desperately clutched at the metal stakes anchoring the tent.
As Chelsea's torso slipped outside. She howled in pure terror,
fighting the supernatural pull. I can't hold on, I yelled,
as the force wrench my hands free, we could only watch,
horrified as she was sucked out into the waiting darkness.
Her chilling screams echoed, then faded to silence. Shaking violently,
we unentangled ourselves and stumbled out of the tent, screaming
Chelsea's name. Chelsea's chilling screams faded, leaving us paralyzed in
the sudden stillness. The darkness pressed him from all sides,
full of gnawing horrors. We could no longer deny. Back
in the tent now, David ordered, voice quaking, we scrambled
inside and zipped the entrance back up. Oh God, Chelsea
ashleyg whimpered, breaking down. David gripped her shoulder firmly. We
have to hold it together, he urged, eyes wide with
primal fear. No one slept another moment that endless night,
minutes stretched out interminably as we waited for the unseen
evil to take us one by one. Any fleeting herpe
of escape or rescue had vanished with Chelsea into the
hungry darkness. The thing taunting us would not be satisfied
until we were all consumed. Time lost meaning As we
sat paralyzed, listening acutely. Every creak of the trees took
on mortal implications. The lantern battery slowly faded, casting flickering
shadows across the tent would have finally died, plunging us
into total darkness. Ashley yelpt in panic. It's all right,
just stay calm, Brandon said, shakily, holding her as she trembled.
But we could all since the end drawing near, with
the dying light. Soon we would be utterly at the
mercy of the revenous darkness. Finally, after an eternity, the
faint disglobe permeated the tent fabric. I nearly wept at
the sight of the tense interior, illuminating as the first
tim rays of sunrise filtered through the tent walls. We
finally worked up the courage to unsip the entrance. The
fresh morning ere felt chilling after being sealed up all night.
For a brief moment, the stillness of dawn lent an
illusion of peace to the camp site. Then reality came
crashing down. Chelsea was gone, violently, roped away into the darkness.
Ires before Chelsea, Brandon called up gruffly, his voice echoing
against the trees, no reply came. The surrounding forest looked
exactly as it had yesterday morning before everything went wrong.
Fueled by a tiny flicker of impossible hope, we found
out the sky, or the campsite and surrounding woods for
any trace of Chelsea. I checked inside her tent again, irrationally,
thinking I might find her sleeping bag, still zipped up
with her inside. But the tiny tent held only her
belongings and disturbed from yesterday. Anything over there, I shouted
to Ashley, who was searching the tree line. She just
shook her head grimly. The surrounding forest was quiet and
unremarkable in the dawn stillness. Expanding farther out, I surveyed
the leaf blankety ground for any newly turned to earth
or clues, but the previous night's rain had washed away
any footprints or marks. It was as if nothing had
disturbed these woods for years. David voice echoed among the
trees as he continued shouting Chelsea's name, and no response
here in the growing anguish in his coals made tis
prick at my eyes. It was becoming horribly clear she
was just gone. We reconverted back at camp, comparing useless notes.
Brandon had found no traces of Chelsea's clothing or belongings.
If she had fled blindly into the woods, there would
be some signs. Instead, it was like she had simply
ceased to exist. As they stood the staring at the
empty camp site, the surrounding force seemed to take on
a malignant energy. The shadows between the pines of piadocer
almost hungry. It was time to leave this place. We
worked fast and quite to date down our camp. That
his small tents were barely standing after the rough night.
We have collapsed them and crowned the damp knillon into
their bags without care. All Chelsea's clothes and items were
still scattered about. We went through her tent gently, gathering
everything up felt like packing up the life she had lost.
Brandon stamped out the fire's last embers, while David and
Ash put a little remaining food and water into two
bads eggs. I grabbed the dusty cans and ropes around
camp would shaky hands and called them up. Within minutes,
we had a race the signs of being here, but
the echoes of what we went through would stay with
us much longer. I looked around at the empty side
and shuddered. It was like we had never been here
at all. As we got ready to got it felt
wrong to just leave with no trace of Chelsea. I
found a long stick and carved it into a tree
at the edge of camp. It said, Chelsea forever in
our hearts. You guys ready, David asked gently, With one
final look at my carving. I turned away from the
quite side. What weeded us out in these woods? I
did not know, but we could not stay a moment more.
Our legs already ached as we hiked deeper into the
ominous forest with no trail to follow, we pushed through
thick and a brush and close to trees, heading up hill,
where we hooked the ridge would lead us out. The
heavy pack strained our exhausted bodies. I could feel eyes
watching from the gloom. The entity was letting us flee
from now, but it would not let it pray go
so easily. Glancing back often, I saw nothing besides shadows
shifting between the trunks. Still, the pricking sense of proceed
needled my spine. By mid day, my lungs burned and
my feet throbbed. But stopping could mean death if the
unseen menace called up to us. So we pressed on
silently through the pane, the trees never seeming to thin
or change, spare crept in as I accepted, we may
wander these woods forever. The watcher toying with us, suddenly
David froze, Do you guys hear that? We all halted,
listening at first only silence, then the distinct crack and
crunch of footsteps over leaves. I felt the color drain
from my face. It was on our trail. We took off,
running blindly, crashing through branches that whipped our skin. No
use being quiet now The heavy footsteps followed steadily, somehow,
never seeming to gain all loose ground. My heart pounded
at a gulp fray air, clowing my way up the
rocky incline. Still the ominous sound stayed right at our backs.
I risked a frantic glance behind, and felt us in
my veins. Something dark weave between the distant trunks, only
visible as the shadows shifted. The blood roared in my
ears as a bushed harder. No matter how fast we scrambled,
the echo of pricip persisted, always the exact same distance away.
I couldn't tell if it was hurting us like prey,
or merely toying with its catch. Ahead the suntep lower,
threatening to plunge the forest into night while we were
still being hunted. Hop serged. When I realized the trees
were finally thinny, we were close to the edge, I
gestured wildly, spurring my friends ahea. Safety lay so close now?
The thing shadowing us must have sensed it too. The
footsteps suddenly quickened, crashing after us. We sprinted with final
desperation through the dense forest. Behind the footsteps sounded almost
upon us, twigs and leaves breaking under some heavy inhuman tread.
Then David cried out, holsely, following his pointing hand. I
nearly wept at the sight, barely visible, and the gloom
set our suv. With a final burst of energy, we
rushed to the dirt road where it waited. The sight
of the bat a blue vehicle was the most beautiful
thing I'd ever seen. Fumbling with the keys, Davy got
the door open, and we all crumpled gratefully inside, Slamming
and locking the doors elicted the first sense of safety
had felt in days. But we weren't out of these
woods yet. Ad David turned the keys and ignition. I
kept my eyes glued to the tree lion, braced for
the entity to come charging out after us. The suv
rumbled to life with a choking cough. David didn't hestate,
slamming the accelerator and whipping the vikel round in a
wide dock away from the trees. I lurched into Ashley
as we barreled down the narrow roadway from that horrible place,
bouncing Raphael on the dirt road. No one spoke during
the frantic escape drive. I kept twisting around, peering at
the rear window for any sign of that dark presence
in pursuit, but the road behind remained blestedly empty. After
what felt like an eternity, we swerve back on to
the smooth highway, civilization once again in sight. My pounding
heart finally began to slur. We had made it out somehow,
But meeting the eyes of my friends in the fading light,
I knew we want the same people who eagerly drove
this road just days before the Watcher had claimed some
crucial part of ourselves. We could drive one hundred miles
more and never truly escape the waiting darkness. It's been
fourteen since we fled those coastwards, but not a day
goes by that I don't think of what lurks with him.
We're just four lucky souls, if you can even call
us that, who somehow escaped the grasp of an unknown evil.
The authorities swept the era repeatedly, but uncovered no clues
about Chelsea's fate or the supernatural horror that resides there.
Our live resumes slowly, though we emerged from the woods
forever changed. David and Ashley eventually married and moved far away,
perhaps to our trun lingering trauma. Brandon also relocated across
the country. We keep in touch, but I know we
all avoid discussing that weekend. As for me, I remarried
a wonderful man who knows nothing of my past. We
live a cozy life in the suburbs, about as far
from remote forests as I could get. But every creek
and rattle in this old house still sets me on edge.
Sometimes I have fleeting moments where the memories overtake me.
Driving along a country road, I'll glem shadowy trees and
feel and I sea sickness washed through my body. The
panic of being hunted returns like a riptide. I've considered
seeking therapy to process events rationally, but part of me
know as no doctor could understand what we experienced in
those woods. Whatever alerks there defies all reason and explanation.
It's best left to local myth. All I can do
is wrestle with the fact that I'm living a happy
life that Chelsea will never have. And that was from Reddit.
Do you hope you enjoyed it? See you in the
next one.