Speaker 1: This story you're about to hear was sent to my
email address in the last couple of weeks. The man
who wrote it. His name is Greg Balin b A
L l a n. Is an author. He has several
books published, and he was good enough to write a
couple of short stories for you all to enjoy on
this podcast. In the comment section, if you tell Greg
Ballin thank you, or if you like the story, tell
him give him your opinion on it. I thought, I
think these are two really good stories. I'm going to
share one with you today and I'll get to the
other one in the next I don't know, three or
four weeks. This is a fun story. I think you
guys will enjoy it. So oh. Also, his author page
will be linked in the description if you want to
look through his books. He's a really good writer. He's
got a good imagination. This is good story, so I
hope you enjoy it. All. Right, here we go The
Haunted Forest by Gregory Ballin. My daughter had talked about
the Haunted Forest and Fall River for weeks, telling me
how much she wanted to investigate the area. Why didn't
pay her much heed? She was at that age when
being in a cemetery was creepy fun, and playing with
the Ouiji board seemed harmless. Party entertainment. Halloween was about
scaring the crap out of herself, and the paranormal was
something that needed to be explored with wildfeckless abandon regardless
of any potential danger. After weeks of discussion, she informed
me she was going there by herself the following weekend. Well,
curiosity got the best of me and I did a
little Internet research. Being her father, I wanted to see
how deep was the water my fearless daughter was waded.
After half an hour of research, I learned about UFO sidings, witchcraft,
human sacrifice, poltergeist, and supernatural creatures called pugwodgies. The area
was five thousand acres of literal haunted forest, a part
of the Massachusetts Dark Bridgewater Triangle. Part of me chuckled
and snorted over the Internet at height, but the paternal
instinct inside said I needed to be there with my
daughter just in case. That weekend, Armed with the map
quest directions and a false sense of security, we began
our journey. We parked in the large parking lot, the
only car there. I read an inscription on the large
statue that details some of the more colorful events of
the forests rich dark history. We both had cameras, and
my daughter hoping to catch a paranormal specter, me hoping
to catch some decent wildlife pictures. Before we headed into
the main trail by a large yellow gate, I sat
my cell phone, compass and GPS navigator. My daughter had
already headed toward the trailhead, forcing me to jog to
catch up. I slipped the phone in my jeans pocket
as we proceeded down a large, clear trail. This doesn't
seem so scary, my daughter snorted, clearly not impressed. Don't
believe all the hype, I replied, feeling slightly uneasy. The
trail took a hard turn and stopped, and the wall
of woodlands lay before us. To our ride, A thin
path led into a thick pine grove. This way, I
motioned to my daughter, taking the lead. I paused for
a moment, deciding to set a GPS marker on my phone.
I slipped the phone out and discovered there was no
signal here. GPS and my compass app were useless. My
daughter checked her cell phone with the same uncomfortable observation.
Stick to the main trails. My daughter nodded as we
moved with a bit less carefree abandon The thin trail
spilled into a path a foot and a half wide,
covered with half buried stones and pine roots. I walked
over to a dead fall and dragged it fifteen feet
or so, laying it halfway on the path so we
wouldn't miss the connection on our way back. I dragged
the heel of my boot and created a fifteen foot
arrow on the trail leading to the tree fall. There
was no way we could miss either marker. My daughter
marked my paranoia as we headed down the path deeper
into the forest. We talked in quiet whispers for several minutes.
My daughter constantly looked through her camera lens, testing the
light for pictures. Something was wrong. I couldn't put the
feeling into words. The back of my head tingled as
the realization struck me. Where were the birds? It was
a warm, early autumn day, the trees should be full
of activity. Where were the squirrels and the chipmunks. The
woods were rich with white oaks, the sound of calling
chipmunks prevalent, and every forest was missing. The birds were missing,
and the annoying buds of horseflies and gnats didn't exist here.
I walked off the path and turned over a large rock.
There was nothing. No worms, centipedes, or any other type
of insects scurried away. This forest was barren save of
the vegetation, and we stood alarmed in the eerie silence.
What do we do? There was a slight warble of
my daughter's voice that first hint of panic. But we
can turn around, I suggested, Well, we've barely been here
half an hour, as she walked forward, heading deeper into
the woods, looking back to make sure that I followed.
I followed in silence for fifteen more minutes. The pathway
emptied into a thirty foot opening with large rock formations.
To continue, we'd need to do a bit of climbing
over the large obstacles. The climb wasn't too bad, and
the narrow path continued. We walked in silence through the
swamp area littered with dead trees, and I stopped and
my eyes locked on the pond with the lily pads.
I heard my daughter's footsteps as she came up beside me.
What Her voice had a larger hint of fear than
before I pointed at the water. No pine skates on
the surface, no dragonflies chasing mosquitoes. There's nothing, not even
a frog or a freaking turtle. This whole place is dead.
It's not natural, and it makes no sense. My voice
was more frustrated than fearful. I was not going to
show fear in front of her. Have you seen anything
alive out here in the past forty five minutes? Her
head shook No. I pulled out my cell phone. Still
there were no bars. We're not in a landl My
hands swung to the open blue skies. We're wide open.
There's no magnetic interference in these woods. We should be
getting a cell signal. My daughter checked her phone. Hers
was as useless as spine. The map I read at
home said this trail circles around the pond and comes back.
Let's just follow it and get out of here. My
daughter looked up at me. I could see the fear
in those almond hazel eyes. We walked side by side
along the path for ten more minutes, and we cleared
the pond. But I didn't get the sense of us
circling back. The position of the sun hadn't changed, and
it was still behind my right shoulder. We were still
going in a relatively straight line deeper into the forest.
I was reluctant to vocalize my observation, and my daughter
was already concerned. I wasn't going to add to that.
A sense of dread crawled up my spine, exploding in
a mad tingle at the base of my skull. Something
was behind us. I turned slowly, preparing to see a
stranger or an animal, but it wasn't a person or
any kind of animal. The air above the path twenty
feet behind us flickered, flowing like waves of ambient heat
over desert sand. Something inside the waves of heat moved now.
I put my hand on my daughter's shoulder and pushed
her forward, Come on, let's go. Her head turned back,
and I waited for a scream or some kind of
panicked outburst, but there was nothing. What's wrong, dad, I
felt my head shake and forced the battle ready tenseness
from my body. Nothing. Let's just keep going. Maybe the
trail circles back further ahead. I dared to look back,
and the anomaly was there, blocking our retreat, but my
daughter didn't see it, and we moved quickly, following the path,
pushing deep into a section of forests thick with oaks, maple,
and other hardwood trees. The colorful canopy of the autumn
leaves covered the trail, effectively choking out the afternoon sunlight.
When whistled through the trees angrily, rustling the leaves around us,
and the breeze was ice cold, sending a deep chill
down my spine. My daughter was visibly trembling. That wind
is freezing, she shuddered, rubbing her arms briskly. I ignored
the chill and guided her forward along the path. The
trail led to another opening. My stomach turned and my
daughter gasped and shot. The opening was identical to the
area we were at thirty minutes ago. The rocks were identical.
The overgrown weeds and brush were a perfect match to
the rocks we'd climb before. How did we get back here?
Her question followed a blistering string of curses. It can't
be the same outcropping. I did my best to stay calm.
We haven't turned around. We've been walking so out by
southwest with some small deviations. This can't be the same place.
I approached the two larger rocks, even the hand and
foot holes seemed identical. Stay here, I'm gonna climb up
and see if the path is similar. Two quick pulls
and I was over the rock, staring into another distortion.
Only this one was larger, easily a dozen feet wide,
covering a large portion of the clearing and blocking the path.
Beyond the air shimmered like heat waves rising off hot
sands or summer pavement. I was close enough to feel
any radiant heat, but there was none. Fear naked, primal,
and unfiltered savaged my body. I stood eyes locked on
the hypnotic distortion, straining my eyes to unsee the illusion
nature placed before me with the ripples. Something moved and
my hand clenched, feet spread apart, ready for a fight
or fled light response. I spotted a baseball sized rock,
picked it up, testing its weight, tossing the object between
both hands. The shimmer moved closer, inching forward, a tiger
creeping up slowly on the unsuspecting Gazella and Paula, waiting
for the chance to pounce. Panic I hurled the stone
missile with every fiber of my strength that I could muster,
and the rock passed through the barrier with no effect.
I listened. The stone never struck the trees behind it.
I turned and leapt the seven feet or so, rolling
to absorb some of the impact. As my legs hit
the ground, my daughter scream of surprise echoed, shattering the
silent woods. I stood, brushing myself off, forcing her behind me.
My eyes locked on the large boulders, hands raised, my breath,
hissing through clenched teeth. My daughter screamed, demanding to know
what was going on. Her eyes fell upon the boulders,
face pale as her jaw dropped. The rippling portal stopped
at the rock's edge, and we gazed, dumbfounded at the anomaly.
Before I could say or do anything, the ribbons of
distortion vanished, and my daughter's eyes were locked on the
area the distortion occupied just seconds ago. I could see
the trembling in her arms and shoulders. What the hell
was that? Her panicked whisper accompanied a river of tears
flowing down her pale cheek. I don't know. I put
my hand on her trembling shoulder. We need to go
back the way we came. We'll backtrack and get the
hell out of here. She nodded, and I silently prayed.
Whatever this thing was, it just wanted us out of
the area. If this thing wanted us gone, I'd gladly oblige.
We passed by the pond without incident, making our way
at a feverish pace, stumbling along the path, and my
daughter held a sigh of relief. As the path emptied
into the first rock clearing. We climbed down the large
boulders and continued on, both feeling a bit better having
seen a familiar landmark. We walked in silence another half
an hour before I noticed the trees were wrong. We
should be in the pine thickets by now walking a
ruddy root littered path dotted with stones. We were walking
toward the sun, the right general direction, but the path
was wider and smooth, made of compacted dirt. I stopped.
My daughter nearly plowed into me. Now what she asked,
rarely the trees are wrong. We were walking in an
evergreen forest full of pines and cedars and other cypress.
Before the first clearing, we passed the first boulders. We
climbed a good while ago. I pointed up at the
tree canopy. These are oaks, maples and other leaf bearing trees.
Are you saying we're lost. Her voice was near the
breaking point of full on panic. Well, how can we
be lost? I don't know. We're going in the right direction,
but these aren't the woods we walked through earlier. Just
stay close to me, Dad, How can that be? We
never left the path, we just followed it back. I
didn't see a second pathway, did you? I shook my head.
I wished I had an answer for my daughter. I
was just as confused and turned around as a newbie
cup scout on his first nature height thirty plus years
in the woods, and I was beside myself. I didn't
have any answers that, above all else scared me. I
couldn't show fear in front of her. She was looking
for me for strength and calm. I didn't have the
luxury of falling apart or appearing less than in control.
I pointed further down the path. Let's go for another
ten minutes on this path. If we don't see anything familiar,
we'll try something else, because just walking has worked so
well so far. She grumbled and walked ahead of me.
I couldn't think. My mind rased trying to find some
rational explanation for what we both saw. And why the
forest seemed to change at random. My daughter was far
ahead of me, moving at a fast cliff. Wait, I
called out, but she kept going forward. The path ahead
changed direction, twisting ninety degrees left and back into the forest.
I ran, screaming her name, telling her to stop. Barely
twenty feet in front of my daughter, the distortion materialized
from nothingness. Something was inside the ripples. A misshapen hand
motioned my daughter forward, and she kept walking toward oblivion.
I screamed her name again, desperately grabbing her shoulder. Barely
six feet from the phenomenon, I made a cockle of frustrations,
shattering the woodland silence. Anice cold wind slammed in to
me like a freight train, numbing my arms and chest.
She's mine, she's mine, Give her to me, An angry
voice shrieked. As I yanked my daughter away and off
the trail. Some force slammed into my back, pushing me forward,
forcing the breath out of my lungs. I fell on
top of my daughter, shielding her with my body. She
was shivering and weeping. The frozen gale continued to slam
against me, pushing me harder into the earth. My arms
strained against what seemed like hundreds of pounds, threatening to
crush me in an oppose of force, twigs and force.
Debris flew overhead as that band, she wail of anger
and longing cried out, She's mine. I wrapped myself tighter
around my daughter, shielding her as best as I could.
We lay motionless for several seconds, and during the frozen wind,
crushing force, and the shower of forest debris, I focused
my thoughts and prayed silently, and then shouted at the
top of my lungs, no one single word, infused with
all the love, protection, and mortal rage I could muster.
The icy gale subsided. I took a few seconds to
gather my wits. My daughter was shaking, engulfed by abject terror.
It's okay, I've got you. I repeated that mantra at
least a dozen times, more to convince myself than her.
I stood in my back, aching an arms scraped from
the flying debris. My daughter got to her feet, and
she stumbled once and fell into me, and she was crying.
I kept repeating my mantra, holding on to her, offering
what little protection my arms could provide against something clearly
not of the natural plane. A low, thrumbing hum echoed
through the woods. I dared to look back. The distortion
was still there. I strained through the ripples to see
what figure hid behind the curtain. I could only see
a vague outline. I turned toward it again, my eyes
narrowed and paternal well focused. Anger replaced fear. No, I shouted,
like I was addressing a misbehaved puppy. I got in
my daughter back on the path, away from the distortion,
peering back every few steps to assure it wasn't following
us and stalking me like it had before. Realization hit me.
The trees surrounding us were evergreen. We were in the
pine forest. The path was littered with stones and exposed
pine roots. How the hell did that happen? Just minutes
ago we were under a thick oak canopy. This was impossible,
a welcome development, but still impossible. And as we walked back,
I scanned the ground for my heel marks and the
dead tree fall I dragged onto the path. It was
as if the forest erased my trail markers, and I
kept walking straight into the woods, following the sunlight filtered
through the pine needles, and I kept my eyes forward,
forcing myself to look straight ahead and not be distracted.
Follow the sun. I kept whispering in my head, that's
the way out of here. My daughter held my hand
tightly as we forced our way through several thickets of saplings,
and we made our way out of the woods and
were back on the large, wide path, looking over to
see the bright yellow gate to the forest parking lot.
I pointed it out to my daughter and she sighed
in relief. We practically ran the fifty yards. Once we
crossed the gates threshold, my cell phone began to buzz
and beat. One hundred pounds of dread fell off my shoulders.
A chipmunk scurried across the parking lot, and a large
crow flew overhead. This was the first while life I'd
seen all day. We were out of it and safe,
but safe from what My mind struggled to rationalize the experience,
and my mind falled miserably. Daddy, my daughter whispered, pointing
down toward the wide path. An old woman stood on
the edge of the woods, arms crossed. I could feel
the weight of her stare. She's lonely. My daughter's voice
was tinged with sadness and a strange longing. She's so lonely, dad,
how do you know that? I demanded. I can hear
her talking, can't you? My skin crawled. We weren't beyond
this thing's influence. At least my daughter wasn't. No, I'm sorry,
she's lonely, but she wanted to take you. Didn't you
hear me yelling at you back there? She shook her head. No,
I just felt the urge to keep walking. I didn't
see the ripples until you grabbed me. Her face pale.
I would have walked right through it if you hadn't
a pat at her shoulder. Don't think about that. We
both looked back at the old woman, and my daughter shouted,
I'm sorry you're lonely, but I can't go with you.
I hope you'll be okay. Only my daughter could switch
from fear to compassion and empathy within a heartbeat. Maybe
that was what drew this thing to her, that rare
gift of youthful compassion, unburdened by this sour pessimism of adulthood.
The old woman raised a wrinkled hand and waved. My
daughter waved back, and the woman turned walking into the
rippled anomaly and vanished the distortion winked out of existence.
I hugged her one more time, Let's go home. I
sat in the living room later that evening listening to
my daughter recount the tale to her mother and brother
for at least the fifteenth time. My wife stared at
me in disbelief, and I simply nod at once. My
son just kept saying how he wished he was there,
and I laughed a bit inside. He'd of wet himself.
My son asked me later what I thought we'dn't counter,
and I wasted an entire evening of mental energy trying
to figure that out. Son. As near as I can figure,
it was some kind of a portal to where he wondered.
I scratched my cheek to whatever eternal round that old
woman has been condemned to spend eternity. That was the
best my twenty first century sophisticated mind could come up with.
She wanted to take your sister there for an eternal visit.
Near as I can figure, my son snickered that old
lady would toss her ass back here after a week
of her bitching and moaning. I didn't mean to laugh,
but my daughter could probably drive a ghost crazy. At
least I ended the day on a lighter note, tak