WEBVTT 1 00:00:02.480 --> 00:00:05.759 For decades, people have disappeared in the woods without a trace. 2 00:00:06.519 --> 00:00:10.279 Some blame wild animals, others whisper of creatures the world 3 00:00:10.359 --> 00:00:14.160 refuses to believe in. But those who have survived they 4 00:00:14.199 --> 00:00:18.679 know the truth. Welcome to Backwoods Bigfoot Stories, where we 5 00:00:18.719 --> 00:00:22.839 share real encounters with the things lurking in the darkness bigfoot, 6 00:00:23.199 --> 00:00:28.239 dog man UFOs, and creatures that defy explanation. Some make 7 00:00:28.280 --> 00:00:32.280 it out, others aren't so lucky. Are you ready, because 8 00:00:32.320 --> 00:00:34.640 once you hear these stories, you'll never walk in the 9 00:00:34.640 --> 00:00:38.920 woods alone again. So grab your flashlight, stay close, and 10 00:00:39.039 --> 00:00:41.840 remember some things in the woods don't want to be found. 11 00:00:42.520 --> 00:00:46.240 Hit that follow or subscribe button, turn on auto downloads, 12 00:00:46.439 --> 00:00:48.399 and let's head off into the woods if you dare. 13 00:01:02.840 --> 00:01:05.079 Not all stories from the backwoods have to do with 14 00:01:05.159 --> 00:01:08.799 hairy giants lurking between ancient oaks and moss draped pines. 15 00:01:09.599 --> 00:01:13.159 Sometimes the most terrifying tales emerge from places that should 16 00:01:13.200 --> 00:01:17.040 feel like home, places where families are supposed to find peace, 17 00:01:17.560 --> 00:01:21.040 where children should run freely through tall grass, and where 18 00:01:21.079 --> 00:01:23.799 the only sounds at night should be crickets and the 19 00:01:23.840 --> 00:01:28.120 gentle creaking of old wood settling into sleep. Sometimes the 20 00:01:28.200 --> 00:01:31.599 darkness that haunts the countryside is far more insidious than 21 00:01:31.640 --> 00:01:36.280 any creature with glowing eyes and massive footprints. Sometimes it 22 00:01:36.280 --> 00:01:39.560 wears the face of a twelve year old boy. This 23 00:01:39.719 --> 00:01:43.239 is my story. My name is Marcus Hartwell, and what 24 00:01:43.280 --> 00:01:45.200 I'm about to tell you happened when I was twelve 25 00:01:45.280 --> 00:01:48.280 years old. During the summer, my family moved to an 26 00:01:48.280 --> 00:01:52.760 old farmhouse in rural Tennessee. I'm thirty seven, now married 27 00:01:52.760 --> 00:01:55.200 with children of my own, and I've never told this 28 00:01:55.280 --> 00:01:58.599 story in its entirety to anyone, not even my wife. 29 00:01:59.359 --> 00:02:02.120 But I think it's time. I think people should know 30 00:02:02.159 --> 00:02:04.159 what can happen when you move into a house that's 31 00:02:04.159 --> 00:02:07.280 been waiting for you. I remember the exact moment I 32 00:02:07.319 --> 00:02:10.520 first saw the house. Our station wagon was coughing and 33 00:02:10.520 --> 00:02:13.479 wheezing its way down a gravel road that seemed designed 34 00:02:13.560 --> 00:02:16.360 to shake fillings loose from your teeth, and my mother 35 00:02:16.439 --> 00:02:18.960 was gripping the door handle like her life depended on it. 36 00:02:19.680 --> 00:02:21.960 My ten year old sister Emma was complaining about the 37 00:02:21.960 --> 00:02:25.759 bumpy ride, buried in a comic book. As usual, I 38 00:02:25.800 --> 00:02:29.000 had my face pressed against the window, watching the landscape 39 00:02:29.080 --> 00:02:32.479 roll by. When the farmhouse emerged from behind a stand 40 00:02:32.520 --> 00:02:36.159 of ancient live oaks. Even at twelve, I knew something 41 00:02:36.240 --> 00:02:39.879 was wrong with the place. Not obviously wrong. It looked 42 00:02:39.879 --> 00:02:43.199 like any old farmhouse that had seen better days. Two 43 00:02:43.280 --> 00:02:46.840 stories of weathered white clapboard, a wide front porch with 44 00:02:46.960 --> 00:02:50.479 sagging columns, and a metal roof that showed rust stains 45 00:02:50.560 --> 00:02:53.400 like old blood. But there was something in the air 46 00:02:53.479 --> 00:02:56.879 around it, a heaviness that seemed to press down on everything, 47 00:02:57.280 --> 00:03:00.560 like an invisible weight. My father was trying to sound 48 00:03:00.560 --> 00:03:04.159 optimistic as he pulled into the circular drive, talking about 49 00:03:04.240 --> 00:03:08.240 character and potential. My mother was less convinced. I could 50 00:03:08.280 --> 00:03:10.960 hear it in her voice even then, but I wasn't 51 00:03:11.000 --> 00:03:14.719 really listening to them. I was staring at the upstairs windows, 52 00:03:14.879 --> 00:03:17.000 and I could have sworn I saw a movement behind 53 00:03:17.000 --> 00:03:20.719 the glass, just a flicker, a shift in the shadows 54 00:03:20.759 --> 00:03:24.439 that could have been anything. The front door was solid oak, 55 00:03:24.520 --> 00:03:28.520 painted deep green, though the paint was peeling like diseased skin. 56 00:03:29.639 --> 00:03:32.080 My father found the key under a loose porch board, 57 00:03:32.599 --> 00:03:34.879 a heavy brass key that looked like it belonged in 58 00:03:34.919 --> 00:03:38.759 a museum. The metal was tarnished, almost black, and there 59 00:03:38.759 --> 00:03:42.360 were strange symbols etched around the head. At the time, 60 00:03:42.400 --> 00:03:45.719 I thought they were just decorative. When the door swung open, 61 00:03:46.000 --> 00:03:49.199 the air that flowed out was cool and stale, carrying 62 00:03:49.280 --> 00:03:53.039 scents of old wood and forgotten meals. But underneath those 63 00:03:53.039 --> 00:03:57.599 normal house smells was something else, something organic and vaguely sweet, 64 00:03:58.159 --> 00:04:01.800 like flowers left too long in water. My sister immediately 65 00:04:01.800 --> 00:04:04.759 complained about the smell, but my parents dismissed it as 66 00:04:04.800 --> 00:04:07.840 the mustiness that accumulates in a house that's been closed 67 00:04:07.879 --> 00:04:11.280 up for too long. The interior was impressive, in an 68 00:04:11.280 --> 00:04:16.319 old fashioned way, wide hallways, high ceilings, hardwood floors that 69 00:04:16.399 --> 00:04:20.199 gleamed despite their age. In the living room, above a 70 00:04:20.240 --> 00:04:24.040 massive fireplace hung a portrait that immediately caught my attention. 71 00:04:24.839 --> 00:04:27.680 It showed a stern looking man in old fashioned clothing, 72 00:04:28.199 --> 00:04:31.800 and the brass plaque at the bottom read Jeremiah Blackwood 73 00:04:32.120 --> 00:04:35.720 eighteen forty seven to eighteen ninety one, He who walks 74 00:04:35.759 --> 00:04:39.199 between worlds. Even at twelve, I thought that was an 75 00:04:39.240 --> 00:04:42.360 odd thing to put on a portrait plaque. The kitchen 76 00:04:42.399 --> 00:04:45.000 looked like it had been frozen in time, complete with 77 00:04:45.040 --> 00:04:50.199 the table set for four plates, glasses, silverware, even cloth napkins, 78 00:04:50.680 --> 00:04:53.879 all covered in a fine layer of dust. My mother 79 00:04:53.959 --> 00:04:56.920 suggested the reltor had staged it, but that didn't explain 80 00:04:56.959 --> 00:04:59.519 why anyone would stage a table setting and then let 81 00:04:59.560 --> 00:05:02.759 it gather dust. I was drawn to the back door, 82 00:05:02.920 --> 00:05:05.360 where I could look out over fields that rolled away 83 00:05:05.399 --> 00:05:08.839 toward the tree line. In the distance, maybe half a 84 00:05:08.879 --> 00:05:11.480 mile away, I could see what looked like the ruins 85 00:05:11.480 --> 00:05:14.720 of an old barn. Its roof had collapsed and the 86 00:05:14.759 --> 00:05:18.480 walls leaned at impossible angles. But something about it held 87 00:05:18.480 --> 00:05:22.399 my attention. It looked familiar somehow, as if I'd seen 88 00:05:22.439 --> 00:05:25.839 it before in a dream I couldn't quite remember. By 89 00:05:25.879 --> 00:05:28.319 the time we finished unloading the car, the sun was 90 00:05:28.360 --> 00:05:31.079 setting behind the trees, and the house had taken on 91 00:05:31.240 --> 00:05:35.319 an entirely different character. What had seemed merely old in 92 00:05:35.360 --> 00:05:39.240 the afternoon light now felt ancient and watchful. In the darkness, 93 00:05:40.040 --> 00:05:44.240 the shadows weren't just shadows anymore. They were presences, dark 94 00:05:44.279 --> 00:05:46.959 shapes that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly 95 00:05:47.040 --> 00:05:50.680 at them. We had no electricity that first night. My 96 00:05:50.720 --> 00:05:53.120 mother found candles in a kitchen drawer and lit them 97 00:05:53.120 --> 00:05:56.000 throughout the house, but the flickering light only made the 98 00:05:56.000 --> 00:06:00.319 shadows dance more ominously. We ate cold Chinese tape out 99 00:06:00.319 --> 00:06:02.879 at that dusty table, and I couldn't shake the feeling 100 00:06:02.959 --> 00:06:05.920 that we were being watched. I claimed the bedroom at 101 00:06:05.920 --> 00:06:08.800 the back of the house, directly above the kitchen. The 102 00:06:08.879 --> 00:06:11.800 room was larger than my sister's but smaller than our parents, 103 00:06:12.279 --> 00:06:16.439 with wallpaper featuring hunting scenes, men on horseback with packs 104 00:06:16.439 --> 00:06:21.800 of hounds chasing foxes through stylized forests. My mother commented 105 00:06:21.839 --> 00:06:24.720 on how cheerful it was, but I actually liked it. 106 00:06:25.399 --> 00:06:29.000 There was something about the room that felt right familiar somehow. 107 00:06:29.839 --> 00:06:32.079 The bed was a massive four poster made of what 108 00:06:32.199 --> 00:06:37.399 looked like walnut, and surprisingly comfortable despite its obvious age. 109 00:06:37.439 --> 00:06:39.839 As I lay there that first night, staring up at 110 00:06:39.839 --> 00:06:42.480 a ceiling where candle light made the plaster cracks look 111 00:06:42.560 --> 00:06:45.480 like writing, I listened to the house settling around me. 112 00:06:46.199 --> 00:06:51.920 Old houses make noise. Everyone knows that floorboards, creek pipes, gurgle, 113 00:06:52.319 --> 00:06:55.800 wood expands and contracts. But the sounds I heard that 114 00:06:55.920 --> 00:07:00.000 night went beyond normal settling. There were soft, scratching sounds 115 00:07:00.079 --> 00:07:03.319 that seemed to come from inside the walls, and occasionally 116 00:07:03.759 --> 00:07:07.120 something that sounded like footsteps in the hallway outside my door. 117 00:07:07.920 --> 00:07:10.639 And then I heard it for the first time, my name, 118 00:07:11.160 --> 00:07:13.839 called softly, as if someone was right outside my door. 119 00:07:14.480 --> 00:07:18.800 Not my mother's voice, or my father's or Emma's. This 120 00:07:18.959 --> 00:07:21.959 was a voice I didn't recognize, speaking my name with 121 00:07:22.000 --> 00:07:25.600 an intimacy that made my stomach clench with unease. I 122 00:07:25.639 --> 00:07:27.920 slipped out of bed and opened my door just a crack. 123 00:07:28.759 --> 00:07:31.120 The hallway was lit only by a single candle my 124 00:07:31.160 --> 00:07:33.720 mother had left on a table, and the shadows at 125 00:07:33.720 --> 00:07:35.800 the far end seemed thicker than they should have been. 126 00:07:36.759 --> 00:07:40.480 I whispered Hello into the darkness, feeling foolish, but got 127 00:07:40.519 --> 00:07:45.759 no response. Then I heard it again, Marcus. This time 128 00:07:45.800 --> 00:07:47.720 it seemed to come from the linen closet at the 129 00:07:47.800 --> 00:07:51.040 end of the hall. I walked toward the sound, my 130 00:07:51.120 --> 00:07:54.800 bare feet silent on the cold wooden floor. The closet 131 00:07:54.800 --> 00:07:57.240 door stood slightly ajar, and when I pulled it open, 132 00:07:57.600 --> 00:08:00.439 I found only shelves lined with old linens that smelled 133 00:08:00.439 --> 00:08:03.560 of lavender and thyme. Nothing that should have been speaking 134 00:08:03.600 --> 00:08:06.399 my name in the dark. But as I stood there, 135 00:08:06.680 --> 00:08:08.920 I felt something brush against the back of my neck. 136 00:08:09.680 --> 00:08:13.319 Not a touch, exactly, but a presence, as if someone 137 00:08:13.399 --> 00:08:17.639 was standing right behind me. I spun around, my heart racing, 138 00:08:18.160 --> 00:08:21.879 but the hallway was empty. My mother called up from downstairs, 139 00:08:21.920 --> 00:08:24.720 asking if I was okay, because she'd heard me walking around. 140 00:08:25.480 --> 00:08:28.120 I told her I was fine, just going to the bathroom, 141 00:08:28.399 --> 00:08:31.839 and retreated to my room. But I lay awake for hours, 142 00:08:32.360 --> 00:08:34.639 listening to the whispers in the walls and wondering what 143 00:08:34.720 --> 00:08:37.840 kind of place my family had moved to. That night, 144 00:08:37.879 --> 00:08:40.639 I dreamed of the ruined barn, but in my dream 145 00:08:41.039 --> 00:08:44.559 it wasn't ruined at all. It stood whole and imposing 146 00:08:44.600 --> 00:08:47.639 against a sky that was the wrong color, not blue 147 00:08:47.720 --> 00:08:50.440 or gray, but something in between that hurt to look 148 00:08:50.480 --> 00:08:54.519 at directly. There were figures moving around the barn, people 149 00:08:54.559 --> 00:08:56.759 in old fashioned clothing who turned to look at me, 150 00:08:56.840 --> 00:08:59.960 with faces that were just shadows under broad brimmed hat. 151 00:09:00.960 --> 00:09:03.960 One of them, a man in a long coat, beckoned 152 00:09:03.960 --> 00:09:06.759 to me, and I found myself walking across the field 153 00:09:06.759 --> 00:09:10.559 toward the barn. The grass whispered against my legs, and 154 00:09:10.600 --> 00:09:13.559 I could hear something calling my name from inside the building, 155 00:09:14.039 --> 00:09:17.440 something that sounded eager and hungry and absolutely delighted that 156 00:09:17.519 --> 00:09:20.679 I was coming closer. I woke just as my dream 157 00:09:20.720 --> 00:09:24.200 self reached the barn. Door, my heart pounding and my 158 00:09:24.279 --> 00:09:28.559 sheets soaked with sweat. Outside my window, the real barn 159 00:09:28.600 --> 00:09:31.480 stood in ruins against the pre dawn sky, but I 160 00:09:31.480 --> 00:09:34.240 could still hear the echo of that eager, hungry voice 161 00:09:34.279 --> 00:09:37.519 calling my name. The next few days passed in a 162 00:09:37.519 --> 00:09:41.639 blur of utility trucks and repair estimates. The electricity came 163 00:09:41.679 --> 00:09:44.039 back on with a flicker and a hum that seemed 164 00:09:44.080 --> 00:09:48.080 to vibrate through the walls themselves, though several outlets remained 165 00:09:48.120 --> 00:09:52.639 mysteriously dead. The phone service was restored, with a landline 166 00:09:52.679 --> 00:09:55.919 that crackled with static and occasionally picked up what sounded 167 00:09:56.000 --> 00:10:00.279 like conversations from decades past. My mother threw herself into 168 00:10:00.320 --> 00:10:03.960 unpacking with fierce determination, trying to make the old house 169 00:10:04.000 --> 00:10:07.879 feel like home. My father focused on repairs, fighting with 170 00:10:07.960 --> 00:10:12.840 plumbing that seemed determined to resist modernization. Emma adapted quickly 171 00:10:12.919 --> 00:10:16.639 as children do, claiming favorite spots and creating games that 172 00:10:16.679 --> 00:10:20.960 incorporated the house's quirks, but I found the adjustment more difficult. 173 00:10:21.759 --> 00:10:24.759 The house seemed to have focused its attention on me, specifically, 174 00:10:25.279 --> 00:10:27.240 as if I was the one it had been waiting 175 00:10:27.279 --> 00:10:30.759 for all these years. Doors that I'd closed would be 176 00:10:30.799 --> 00:10:33.919 standing open. When I passed them again, I'd find my 177 00:10:33.960 --> 00:10:37.519 belongings moved to different locations, despite being certain where I'd 178 00:10:37.600 --> 00:10:42.120 left them, and the voice, that soft, insistent voice calling 179 00:10:42.159 --> 00:10:46.080 my name continued to whisper through the house at unexpected moments. 180 00:10:46.799 --> 00:10:50.559 It wasn't every day, and it wasn't always clear. Sometimes 181 00:10:50.559 --> 00:10:52.600 it was just a sound that might have been my name, 182 00:10:52.679 --> 00:10:55.080 mixed in with the settling of old wood or the 183 00:10:55.120 --> 00:11:00.440 whisper of wind through the eves. But sometimes it was unmistakable, clear, 184 00:11:00.480 --> 00:11:03.879 and undeniably directed at me. My family didn't seem to 185 00:11:03.919 --> 00:11:06.480 hear it. When I asked my parents if they'd noticed 186 00:11:06.519 --> 00:11:09.799 anything weird about the house, they attributed my concerns to 187 00:11:09.879 --> 00:11:13.559 the stress of moving. Old houses make noise. They said, 188 00:11:14.200 --> 00:11:17.080 it's normal to feel unsettled at first, But I knew 189 00:11:17.080 --> 00:11:20.240 the difference between normal house sounds and something calling my 190 00:11:20.360 --> 00:11:22.919 name in a voice that didn't belong to anyone living. 191 00:11:24.000 --> 00:11:26.519 On Thursday morning, I found myself alone in the house 192 00:11:26.559 --> 00:11:29.399 for the first time. My mother had taken Emma to 193 00:11:29.480 --> 00:11:32.000 register for school, and my father was working in the 194 00:11:32.000 --> 00:11:35.840 basement trying to coax the water heater into functioning. The 195 00:11:35.919 --> 00:11:39.240 silence when I was by myself was different, not empty, 196 00:11:39.679 --> 00:11:44.679 but full, pregnant with possibility and thick with attention. I 197 00:11:44.799 --> 00:11:47.360 ended up in the living room, standing before the portrait 198 00:11:47.399 --> 00:11:51.000 of Jeremiah Blackwood. In the electric light. The painting was 199 00:11:51.080 --> 00:11:54.279 less ominous than it had seemed by candlelight, but there 200 00:11:54.320 --> 00:11:58.080 was still something unsettling about the man's expression. His eyes 201 00:11:58.120 --> 00:12:01.679 seemed to hold secrets, and that plaque he who walks 202 00:12:01.679 --> 00:12:06.200 between worlds remained as mysterious as ever. I found myself 203 00:12:06.240 --> 00:12:09.879 talking to the painted figure, asking who he was, feeling 204 00:12:09.879 --> 00:12:12.879 only slightly foolish for having a conversation with a portrait. 205 00:12:13.759 --> 00:12:16.240 The house seemed to hold its breath, waiting for an 206 00:12:16.240 --> 00:12:20.759 answer that didn't come. That's when I heard it again, Marcus. 207 00:12:21.320 --> 00:12:24.039 The voice came from directly behind me, so close I 208 00:12:24.039 --> 00:12:27.039 should have felt breath on my neck. I spun around, 209 00:12:27.320 --> 00:12:30.120 but the room was empty, filled only with dust motes 210 00:12:30.200 --> 00:12:34.120 dancing in the afternoon sunlight. The voice came again from 211 00:12:34.159 --> 00:12:37.679 a different direction, this time near the fireplace, where shadows 212 00:12:37.720 --> 00:12:41.600 gathered despite the bright day outside. I asked who's there, 213 00:12:42.399 --> 00:12:46.360 what they wanted, but got only silence and response. Then 214 00:12:46.399 --> 00:12:50.600 so softly I almost missed it. Come and see the 215 00:12:50.639 --> 00:12:53.120 words seemed to pull at me physically, as if they 216 00:12:53.159 --> 00:12:56.080 carried a weight that tugged at my chest. I found 217 00:12:56.120 --> 00:12:59.600 myself walking toward the fireplace without consciously deciding to move. 218 00:13:00.480 --> 00:13:02.759 The shadows near the hearth were deeper than they should 219 00:13:02.759 --> 00:13:05.120 have been, too dark for the time of day, and 220 00:13:05.159 --> 00:13:08.919 the amount of light streaming through the windows. As I approached, 221 00:13:09.279 --> 00:13:12.720 the shadows seemed to shift and swirl, forming shapes that 222 00:13:12.840 --> 00:13:14.879 might have been faces, or might have been tricks of 223 00:13:14.879 --> 00:13:19.480 my imagination, but there was definitely something there, something that 224 00:13:19.600 --> 00:13:23.519 wanted my attention. My father's voice boomed up from the basement, 225 00:13:23.799 --> 00:13:26.399 asking me to come help him, and the spell broke. 226 00:13:27.240 --> 00:13:30.320 The shadows snapped back to normal, and the pulling sensation 227 00:13:30.480 --> 00:13:34.360 in my chest disappeared. I was grateful for the interruption, 228 00:13:34.879 --> 00:13:37.000 though I couldn't shake the feeling that something had been 229 00:13:37.000 --> 00:13:42.080 disappointed by my failure to approach op The basement was 230 00:13:42.120 --> 00:13:45.720 a maze of stone walls and low ceilings, more normal 231 00:13:45.759 --> 00:13:48.919 than the rest of the house because it was primarily functional. 232 00:13:49.759 --> 00:13:51.919 While I held a flashlight from my father as he 233 00:13:51.960 --> 00:13:54.679 worked on the water heater, I told him I sometimes 234 00:13:54.679 --> 00:13:57.759 thought I heard things like someone calling my name when 235 00:13:57.759 --> 00:14:01.600 nobody was there, He nodded thoughtfully and suggested that old 236 00:14:01.639 --> 00:14:04.679 houses make a lot of noise that can sound like voices, 237 00:14:05.240 --> 00:14:08.399 especially when you're not used to it. Yet, he offered 238 00:14:08.440 --> 00:14:10.480 to take me on a walk around the property after 239 00:14:10.519 --> 00:14:13.840 he finished the repairs, suggesting that exploring the land might 240 00:14:13.879 --> 00:14:17.480 help me feel more comfortable with our new home. I agreed, 241 00:14:18.080 --> 00:14:20.919 though something inside me recoiled at the thought of approaching 242 00:14:20.919 --> 00:14:24.759 the barn ruins. In my dreams, it was always whole, 243 00:14:25.360 --> 00:14:29.360 always occupied by shadowy figures who beckoned me closer. But 244 00:14:29.440 --> 00:14:33.279 in reality it was just ruins, harmless piles of weathered 245 00:14:33.279 --> 00:14:36.799 wood and rusted metal. When my mother and Emma returned 246 00:14:36.840 --> 00:14:39.559 from town, they brought news that Emma was enrolled in 247 00:14:39.600 --> 00:14:42.759 school and stories about the friendly librarian who had given 248 00:14:42.799 --> 00:14:46.639 them local history. According to her, our property was one 249 00:14:46.639 --> 00:14:49.000 of the larger remaining parcels from what had once been 250 00:14:49.039 --> 00:14:52.159 a much larger farm, and the house was considered a 251 00:14:52.159 --> 00:14:56.279 local landmark, despite its reputation for being difficult to keep occupied. 252 00:14:56.679 --> 00:15:00.279 Stay tuned for more Backwoods Bigfoot stories. Will be back 253 00:15:00.320 --> 00:15:06.000 after these messages. My mother dismissed this as typical small 254 00:15:06.039 --> 00:15:09.559 town superstition about old houses, but I caught my father's 255 00:15:09.559 --> 00:15:12.960 eye and saw my own doubt reflected there. We both 256 00:15:13.039 --> 00:15:15.360 sensed there was more to the story than just people 257 00:15:15.360 --> 00:15:20.000 getting spooked by creaking floorboards. That evening, after dinner and homework, 258 00:15:20.279 --> 00:15:22.759 I lay in bed, listening to the house settle around me. 259 00:15:23.519 --> 00:15:25.919 The hunting scenes on my wallpaper seemed to watch me 260 00:15:25.960 --> 00:15:29.000 from the walls, and the shadows in the corners gathered 261 00:15:29.080 --> 00:15:32.200 like pools of dark water. I was just drifting off 262 00:15:32.200 --> 00:15:34.600 to sleep when I heard my name again, but this 263 00:15:34.720 --> 00:15:37.840 time it seemed to come from outside. I got up 264 00:15:37.840 --> 00:15:40.320 and went to the window, pressing my face against the 265 00:15:40.360 --> 00:15:44.519 cool glass. The night was cloudy, with only occasional breaks 266 00:15:44.519 --> 00:15:47.960 that let moonlight spill across the fields. At first I 267 00:15:47.960 --> 00:15:52.000 saw nothing unusual, but then movement caught my eye. A 268 00:15:52.000 --> 00:15:55.080 figure was walking across the field, heading toward the house. 269 00:15:55.879 --> 00:15:58.559 At that distance and in that light, I couldn't make 270 00:15:58.559 --> 00:16:02.320 out details, but the person moved with a strange, gliding 271 00:16:02.360 --> 00:16:05.919 gait that didn't look quite right. As I watched, the 272 00:16:05.960 --> 00:16:08.960 figure stopped and turned toward the house, seeming to look 273 00:16:09.000 --> 00:16:12.799 directly at my window despite the distance. In darkness then 274 00:16:13.159 --> 00:16:17.360 carried on the night wind, I heard my name again, Marcus. 275 00:16:18.000 --> 00:16:22.039 The figure raised one arm, beckoning, inviting, calling me to 276 00:16:22.039 --> 00:16:25.720 come outside and cross the field, to come closer where 277 00:16:25.759 --> 00:16:29.600 questions could be answered and mysteries explained. I backed away 278 00:16:29.600 --> 00:16:32.919 from the window, my heart pounding, and when I looked again, 279 00:16:33.440 --> 00:16:36.639 the field was empty. I climbed back into bed and 280 00:16:36.679 --> 00:16:39.440 pulled the covers over my head, trying to shut out 281 00:16:39.480 --> 00:16:41.679 the sound of my name being whispered by the wind 282 00:16:41.679 --> 00:16:45.159 against my window. I told myself that tomorrow I would 283 00:16:45.159 --> 00:16:47.840 tell my parents what was happening, that tomorrow I would 284 00:16:47.879 --> 00:16:51.720 demand answers. But deep down I already knew that tomorrow 285 00:16:51.759 --> 00:16:54.960 would bring only more questions, and that whatever was calling 286 00:16:55.000 --> 00:16:58.679 my name in the darkness was getting stronger, more insistent, 287 00:16:59.240 --> 00:17:03.679 more confident that soon I would answer. Friday morning brought 288 00:17:03.759 --> 00:17:06.680 the first real sign that the House's influence was spreading 289 00:17:06.680 --> 00:17:10.160 beyond just strange voices and mysterious figures. In the night, 290 00:17:10.960 --> 00:17:15.640 I woke to find my room rearranged, not drastically, but noticeably. 291 00:17:16.480 --> 00:17:18.680 My dresser had been moved three feet to the left, 292 00:17:19.000 --> 00:17:21.599 my desk chair was facing the window instead of the wall, 293 00:17:22.119 --> 00:17:26.119 and my bookshelf was now organized by color rather than alphabetically, 294 00:17:26.160 --> 00:17:29.240 as I'd arranged it the night before. I stared at 295 00:17:29.240 --> 00:17:32.519 the changes, trying to convince myself that I'd simply forgotten 296 00:17:32.519 --> 00:17:36.440 how I'd arrange things. But I remembered specifically placing the 297 00:17:36.559 --> 00:17:39.519 dresser to block the heating vent because the airflow had 298 00:17:39.519 --> 00:17:44.440 been bothering me, and I always organized my books alphabetically always. 299 00:17:44.960 --> 00:17:47.079 When I asked my mother if she'd moved anything in 300 00:17:47.119 --> 00:17:51.039 my room, she seemed genuinely puzzled by the question. Why 301 00:17:51.039 --> 00:17:55.079 would she rearrange my room? The idea clearly hadn't occurred 302 00:17:55.079 --> 00:17:56.920 to her, and I could tell from her tone that 303 00:17:57.000 --> 00:17:59.200 she thought I was confused about how I'd set things 304 00:17:59.240 --> 00:18:02.519 up in the first place. At breakfast, Emma announced that 305 00:18:02.559 --> 00:18:06.119 she wanted to explore more of the property, specifically mentioning 306 00:18:06.160 --> 00:18:08.680 a desire to walk to the old barn to see 307 00:18:08.680 --> 00:18:12.039 if any animals were living in it. The familiar chill 308 00:18:12.160 --> 00:18:14.559 ran through me at the mention of the barn, but 309 00:18:14.599 --> 00:18:17.519 my parents thought it was a great idea. My father 310 00:18:17.599 --> 00:18:20.720 suggested we make it a family expedition after he finished 311 00:18:20.720 --> 00:18:25.240 some household tasks. The morning passed in domestic routine, but 312 00:18:25.279 --> 00:18:27.279 I kept being drawn back to the living room and 313 00:18:27.359 --> 00:18:31.240 Jeremiah Blackwood's portrait. There was something about the painting that 314 00:18:31.319 --> 00:18:35.079 nagged at me, some detail I was missing. This time, 315 00:18:35.160 --> 00:18:38.400 I studied the background more carefully, and what I'd initially 316 00:18:38.440 --> 00:18:43.079 taken for artistic ambiguity began to resolve into more concrete forms. 317 00:18:43.920 --> 00:18:46.839 There were definitely other people in the painting, at least 318 00:18:46.880 --> 00:18:50.920 three figures standing behind Jeremiah, though their faces were obscured 319 00:18:50.960 --> 00:18:54.599 by darkness, and there was something architectural in the background 320 00:18:54.599 --> 00:18:58.680 that looked familiar. It looked like buildings, barn like structures 321 00:18:58.720 --> 00:19:02.400 with high peaked roofs and wide doors. The painting showed 322 00:19:02.400 --> 00:19:04.759 the property as it had been over a century ago, 323 00:19:05.119 --> 00:19:08.400 when it was a working farm with multiple outbuildings. I 324 00:19:08.480 --> 00:19:12.279 was studying these details when I heard my name called again, Marcus. 325 00:19:13.079 --> 00:19:16.359 I spun around, but the room was empty. The voice 326 00:19:16.359 --> 00:19:20.799 didn't stop there. It continued, a constant whisper that seemed 327 00:19:20.799 --> 00:19:25.920 to come from the walls themselves. Marcus, Come, Come and see, 328 00:19:26.680 --> 00:19:31.160 Come and understand. The words wound around me like invisible rope, 329 00:19:31.519 --> 00:19:34.880 tugging at my chest. In my mind, I found myself 330 00:19:34.880 --> 00:19:38.480 walking toward the front door, my feet moving without conscious direction. 331 00:19:39.400 --> 00:19:42.799 The voice was stronger, now, more insistent, and with it 332 00:19:42.839 --> 00:19:46.400 came a curious sense of anticipation, as if something wonderful 333 00:19:46.480 --> 00:19:49.359 was waiting for me outside. My hand was on the 334 00:19:49.400 --> 00:19:53.039 doorknob when Emma's voice cut through the hypnotic whisper, calling 335 00:19:53.039 --> 00:19:54.880 my name from the kitchen and asking if I was 336 00:19:54.960 --> 00:19:59.039 ready to explore the property. The pulling sensation snapped like 337 00:19:59.079 --> 00:20:03.279 a cut string, leaving me gasping and disoriented. I was 338 00:20:03.319 --> 00:20:05.680 standing at the front door, with no clear memory of 339 00:20:05.720 --> 00:20:08.759 how I'd gotten there, my hand gripping the brass knob 340 00:20:08.880 --> 00:20:13.319 so tightly my knuckles were white. The family expedition began 341 00:20:13.440 --> 00:20:17.000 cheerfully enough. The afternoon was warm, with a light breeze 342 00:20:17.000 --> 00:20:20.559 that made the tall grass dance. Emma skipped ahead while 343 00:20:20.559 --> 00:20:23.839 my father pointed out property markers and discussed his plans 344 00:20:23.880 --> 00:20:27.240 for eventually clearing some land for a garden. My mother 345 00:20:27.319 --> 00:20:30.119 walked beside me, and I noticed she kept glancing back 346 00:20:30.119 --> 00:20:32.359 at the house as we moved farther away from it. 347 00:20:33.240 --> 00:20:35.400 As we walked, I became aware of the sound the 348 00:20:35.440 --> 00:20:39.160 grass made under our feet, a constant whisper that seemed 349 00:20:39.200 --> 00:20:44.039 almost like conversation, and beneath that carried on the breeze, 350 00:20:44.119 --> 00:20:46.480 I could swear I heard my name being called from 351 00:20:46.480 --> 00:20:50.559 the direction we were walking toward the barn. The ruins 352 00:20:50.599 --> 00:20:53.559 came into view, gradually rising from the field like the 353 00:20:53.559 --> 00:20:57.240 skeleton of some enormous beast. What had once been a 354 00:20:57.279 --> 00:21:00.319 substantial building was now just a framework of way weathered 355 00:21:00.319 --> 00:21:04.680 beams and collapsed walls. The roof had fallen in decades ago, 356 00:21:04.759 --> 00:21:08.480 and vines had claimed much of the remaining structure. Emma 357 00:21:08.559 --> 00:21:11.759 ran ahead, but stopped abruptly about twenty feet from the ruins, 358 00:21:12.119 --> 00:21:15.440 announcing that it smelled funny. When I caught up with her, 359 00:21:15.599 --> 00:21:19.039 I immediately understood what she meant. There was a smell 360 00:21:19.119 --> 00:21:23.200 emanating from the ruins, sweet and organic. It was the 361 00:21:23.240 --> 00:21:25.720 same smell I'd noticed when we first entered the house, 362 00:21:26.160 --> 00:21:30.759 but stronger here, more concentrated. My father was more adventurous 363 00:21:30.759 --> 00:21:33.240 than the rest of us, picking his way carefully through 364 00:21:33.279 --> 00:21:36.680 the debris field around the barn's perimeter. He called back 365 00:21:36.680 --> 00:21:40.039 that the foundation was still solid stone and mortar, built 366 00:21:40.079 --> 00:21:43.240 to last, commenting that this had been a serious structure 367 00:21:43.240 --> 00:21:46.119 when it was whole. I found myself staring at the 368 00:21:46.200 --> 00:21:50.960 ruins with a growing sense of familiarity. The layout, the proportions, 369 00:21:51.319 --> 00:21:54.960 the way the remaining beams created geometric patterns against the sky. 370 00:21:55.839 --> 00:21:59.559 It all matched my dreams exactly. This was the barn 371 00:21:59.559 --> 00:22:02.319 I'd been visiting in my sleep, though in my dreams 372 00:22:02.359 --> 00:22:06.279 it was always whole, always occupied by shadowy figures who 373 00:22:06.319 --> 00:22:10.480 beckoned me closer. That's when I heard it again, Marcus. 374 00:22:11.440 --> 00:22:15.319 The voice was clearer here, stronger, as if proximity to 375 00:22:15.400 --> 00:22:19.839 the ruins amplified whatever force was calling my name. This time, 376 00:22:20.079 --> 00:22:23.559 my family seemed to hear something too. Emma asked what 377 00:22:23.599 --> 00:22:28.000 that sound was, looking around uncertainly. My father suggested it 378 00:22:28.039 --> 00:22:31.039 was probably the wind through the ruins, though his voice 379 00:22:31.119 --> 00:22:34.799 lacked conviction, but the air was still, with barely a 380 00:22:34.839 --> 00:22:38.039 breeze to stir the grass around our feet. The voice 381 00:22:38.039 --> 00:22:42.519 came again, Marcus, clearer now, and with it came that 382 00:22:42.640 --> 00:22:46.240 pulling sensation in my chest, urging me to step closer 383 00:22:46.240 --> 00:22:49.799 to the ruins, to explore the shadowy spaces where answers 384 00:22:49.920 --> 00:22:53.400 might be waiting. I took a step forward, then another. 385 00:22:54.200 --> 00:22:57.400 The sweet organic smell grew stronger, and now I could 386 00:22:57.440 --> 00:23:01.960 detect other sense beneath it, old leather, metal, something that 387 00:23:02.079 --> 00:23:06.079 might have been incense or candlewax. I was already moving, 388 00:23:06.440 --> 00:23:10.240 drawn by an urge stronger than curiosity. The ruin seemed 389 00:23:10.240 --> 00:23:13.200 to shimmer in my peripheral vision, and for just a moment, 390 00:23:13.279 --> 00:23:15.480 I could have sworn I saw the barn as it 391 00:23:15.559 --> 00:23:19.599 had been, whole and imposing, with figures moving in the 392 00:23:19.599 --> 00:23:23.440 shadows near the wide doors. My father's voice cut through 393 00:23:23.440 --> 00:23:26.920 my trance, sharp with alarm, asking what I was doing. 394 00:23:27.720 --> 00:23:31.759 Suddenly he was beside me, gripping my arm. I blinked, 395 00:23:32.039 --> 00:23:34.720 suddenly aware that I'd walked much closer to the ruins 396 00:23:34.720 --> 00:23:37.559 than I'd intended. I was standing at the edge of 397 00:23:37.599 --> 00:23:40.640 what had once been the barn's interior, close enough to 398 00:23:40.640 --> 00:23:43.960 touch the nearest fallen beam. I had no memory of 399 00:23:44.000 --> 00:23:47.559 walking this far, no awareness of having moved beyond that 400 00:23:47.640 --> 00:23:51.039 first step. When my father suggested we head back to 401 00:23:51.079 --> 00:23:53.759