Tales From The Dark Forest
3 Hours Of Deep Woods Stories | Black Screen For Sleep | Camping & Park Ranger Stories | Rain Sounds
I've always loved the mountains. Something about being up high amongst the trees, breathing fresh, clean air has always appealed to me, and I could never resist the call of the peaks for long. I loved climbing, and when I was 12, I started free climbing. I took lessons and went out in groups. And I started climbing solo more often when I couldn't find anybody to go with. My parents hated it when I went off on my own, but I was confident in a good climber. I had heard all kinds of stories of bad things happening in the solo climbers, of course. Balls, strange happenings, unexplained disappearances. None of it phased me, and for 15 years, nothing happened. I had a few minor falls and a few near misses, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing until what seems like three weeks ago. I work as a nurse, and I had my first week off in months. I hadn't been out in months and I was restless, aching to be back in the mountains even for a day. So as soon as my leave was cleared, I packed my bags and planned a three-day climbing expedition in a place I'd read about online. Atlas Hills Supposedly, it was 900 acres of fantastic free climbing cliffs and mountains with campgrounds spread regularly throughout the comfort to campers. When I drove up, I realized it was so much more. Thousands of hiking trails, rivers, climbing courses, and untamed wilderness with the free access to anyone willing to pay the $20 a day fee. I pulled in through the gates and up to the communal campground where I had booked a spot to park my car and use as a base camp. I was so eager to be out I didn't even spend the first night at camp as I had planned. Just packed my climbing pack with everything I could possibly need for three days and let the camp supervisor know I was leaving and when I would be back if anything happened, someone could find me. I started through the woods on a mapped trail, heading east with no destination in mind. It was my favorite way to climb, a day or so and as far as I could possibly go and a day back before heading home and gave me a chance to practice my navigational skills. As I walked, I got the sense of something behind me. I shrugged it off as usual. When one free climbs as often as I do, you get used to weird feelings and sensations. It did bug me just a little because now I could hear something crunching leaves behind me every once in a while in the way someone clumsy tried to be as quiet as they could. I hit a flat stretch of trail and broke into a slow run, a little faster than a jog. There were footsteps now, fast and light and not human or animal. I ran faster and the footsteps sped up with me. My heart was beating fast now and I felt real fear like I'd never did in the woods. As the trail began to get rockier and fade out into the surrounding terrain, I stopped dead and spun around, not seen anything. Get the hell away from me. I screamed into the trees. I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath and the presence seemed to withdraw. I breathed easier and began to wonder if perhaps I had imagined it as I started walking again, climbing over several large rocks and trees that blocked the trail. Often footsteps echoed in a place like this. Maybe I was just jumpy after having been away from the woods for so long. I glanced at my watch. 546. What? That wasn't right. It had been 4.30 just minutes ago when the thing had started following me. Surely my watch was off. I looked up at the sky and to my surprise, it was correct. Sunset was only an hour off and I realized suddenly the trail should have gone on for at least 10 more miles according to my map. I pulled it out again and checked. Somehow, I was 4 miles west of the trail I had been on and far off from any other trail. Lost time. An eerie voice called. It was like a child's high and singsongy but deeply wrong. Lost time and lost lives. Who's there? I shouted. My voice shaking as I dug in my pack for my hunting knife. This isn't funny. I found the knife and unsheathed it. The tip of the blade quivering slightly in my shaking hands. Come out, I'm armed. I tried the force the shaking out of my voice but it didn't work. I realized the presence was back. Something watching me and breathing. Nothing moved but I could feel it. "You're scaring me, go away!" I said, nearly sobbing as I forced the words out. There was a moment of hesitation that I could feel in my bones, a turning point. I held my breath and after a moment, the presence withdrew. I lowered the knife, still shaking and stay away. I whispered and attempted bravery. I should have gone back the camp. Should have gone for help. But some part of me still thought that surely it was just my imagination. I'd heard a bird and my mind had twisted it to seem like a voice. Nothing was here, only the wildlife and me. Nothing was here and I was safe. I started walking again, keeping the knife in my hand. I didn't look at my watch and I didn't look at the sky. I didn't know why, I told myself. I didn't want to know. About a half an hour and I'd reached a smaller cliff that wouldn't take me long to climb. A half hour at most. I set up camp at the top, making something to eat and sleep in the peaceful night air. I started the climb and settled into my pace quickly. It wasn't a hard or sheer climb, although my fingertips did start to get a little numb as the air cooled quickly. I was confident and moved quickly, letting myself forget everything that had happened in the joy of the climb. I was nearly three-fourths of the way up when I slipped. I was moving too quickly, not testing footholds or following the rule of three. Three limbs in contact at all times. My foot slipped out from under me as the hold crumbled and fell. My hands slipped and I was falling, desperately lashing out at the cliff to at least slow my fall. I would die if I fell all the way. I was going to die. A hand grabbed my forearm and another the back of my shirt and I stopped suddenly. I grabbed at the wall and clung to it. I looked up to see my rescuer and no one was there. Empty rock and I was nearly at the top of the cliff. My heart nearly stopped and I clung to the rock face, feeling weak. I pulled myself to the top, another two or so feet, and looked back down at the ground. It took me a moment to realize it, what was wrong. I was far too high and the terrain below was a thick forest canopy, not the slope of rocks it should have been. I pulled my pack off and clutched it to my chest, looking for my map. I couldn't find it, why couldn't I find it. It was nearly dark and I couldn't find my flashlight either. In fact, my pack seemed far lighter. When I dumped it out, only my sleepy bag, a few tins of food, my multi-tool, and a box of matches were left. All the rest of my equipment, emergency ropes, signal equipment, other food, water, and my tent had vanished. Even my backpack seemed different. I could have sworn it was a lighter blue with white patches, instead of navy with black patches before I had fallen. Surely it was just the light, right? And everything else had fallen out when I lost my grip. I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think about it. I simply laid down, curled in a ball with my back to the boulder and my pack in front of me. The multi-tool clutched in my hand with the two-inch blade extended. I didn't sleep. All around me in the darkness, that same childlike voice called out, laughing merrily. Last time lost lives, lost lost lost lost, lost time, lost lives, lost maps, lost packs. It circled me all night, and I waited for it to end, and trying desperately not to catch a glimpse of the twisted figure skipping around me. As I closed my eyes against the sight, I heard a voice, deeper and male say, "The lost hiker watches until the end." Sunrise couldn't be soon enough. The figure faded out as the light grew, and I found that I was in a set-up camp on top of the cliff I had started with the night before prior to the fall. I had all my stuff and my pack was the right color again. I was laying outside my tent, and there was the remains of a fire in front of me. It hadn't been a dream, and I knew it. I didn't touch anything, not my pack, not the tent, not the water. Everything was wrong, and I wanted to go home, and never set foot outside of my bedroom ever again. With nothing but what I was wearing, not even the map, I climbed back down the cliff, a different route than I thought I had taken up. I ran all the way back to the camp from there, scrambling up each time I fell with no regard to the blood streaming down my legs and arms, and desperately ignoring the footsteps keeping pace with me. I bursted back in the camp, wide-eyed, and surely looking like I had been in the woods for a week, not a day. I unlocked my car and climbed in, huddling in the back seat until the footsteps that had followed me stopped echoing in my skull. Then I climbed into the front seat and drove off, intending to let the camp manager know I was leaving early. When I got to his cabin, there was a crowd held back by police tape. One of my right mind, I climbed out and went over, desperate to leave, but not wanting to leave without telling someone, lest a search party be sent out. As I took a few steps forward, the people shifted in a way that let me see what was on the ground. A body. My body. In the words, "The lost hiker returns, carved into the dirt beside me." I was falling, broken and bruised, sharp pain and everything spiraled away. Scenes shifted before me. I could see myself climbing, falling, laying dead on the ground. Two of me dead on the ground. The twisted creature from the night before standing over my broken body at the bottom of the cliff, blood, me in a hospital bed, a grave with my name on it. Back, I thought, back to the hospital, my boring job full of irritable patience where I'm alive and tired, back, and everything went black. I was in a hospital and doctors were standing over me. "Bad fall," they said, "a shame," and it was all gone again, fading into darkness. I woke up just a little several more times before finally waking up properly. "Gramma?" The voice of a little boy said, high and sweet. I opened my eyes and a small boy stood beside me with the woman who looked like an older version of me and a tall man behind him. "Who the hell are you people?" I demanded. My voice crackled and I needed water. "Do you need water, Mom?" The woman said, "I can get the nurse to give you some to knock you out again." "Who are you?" I said, "I'm not even married." "I'm Eve," she said, "your daughter. Dad died ten years ago, remember?" "No," I said, panic rising in me. "I'm 27, I'm young, got my nursing degree a few years ago. I work at Charlottesville Regional Hospital, but I had felt my own soft, wrinkled skin, felt my frail bones. How old am I?" I asked, voice shaking. "93," the woman said, confusion in her voice. "No," I said, "and my voice broke." "No, get out, all you get out, and don't come back." I screamed and screamed, telling them to never come back to get away from me. The boy cried and I felt only panic. "Don't come back," I yelled as they left, the woman sobbing as she held the child. They didn't, and it's been a week. The doctors used the words like "tumor" and "terminal" and "two weeks," as in "terminal brain tumor with only two weeks to live." My life has been stolen and I right now to warn you. Climbers, adventurers, campers, people still living like they should. If you ever see an ad for a beautiful campground called Atlas Hills, run and never look back. You won't come back who you were before, and you won't survive in any way that matters. I warn you now, in hopes that you might find this and know to stay away. The lost hiker of Atlas comes for all who hikes there and he shows no mercy. He steals your years and your soul, and you will never come back. Be warned. This was a journal entry made by Walter Rockwell, a prison convict in the 19th century. This was later discovered in 1903, where it was taken and recreated digitally. My friend Micah and I had been running from the law for a few months. With an unsuccessful armed robbery attempt up in Washington, we had the fine to place to hide. We traveled for a while until we made it to Florida. The swamps in Florida were dense, with many places to hide in and passages to escape from. Micah and I made a mediocre hideout, which had a my rate of holes within the flanky planks of wood that we used. Not only that, but when the days were generous with rain, we would find ourselves covered in dirty water due to the holes in the rusted ceiling. A few weeks into our stay, I would find odd things occurring within the swamp. Clothing would emerge from the water, the quality of which would vary, but typically they were slacks or farmers' clothes. However, it got even worse. One day in July, I went down to a creek near the shack. It was the afternoon, and I had spent the whole day fishing. Most of the water in the swamp had a thick tone of brown, making it sickening even to look at. In the creek, however, the water was beautiful. It dazzled and the sun's light and was clean and fresh. As I cupped my hands into the water to clean my face, I saw something move. My head snapped upwards to see what had moved, yet when I looked, there was nothing. I brought it down to me just being paranoid and left it at that. About two months in, and Micah was incessantly going on about large maggots that were crawling around the swamp. He told me one had attempted to attack him while he was collecting water, and that I should stay vigilant around the area. After that day, I went into the swamp to collect some wood, and I saw them. I could hear grotesque sounds of flesh being ripped apart as the maggots burrowed their way into the crocodile's corpse. Feeling myself about the wretch, I turned away before that could happen. I dragged myself back to the shack, unsettled by what I had seen. When I turned up, Micah swung the door open, saying, "Did you see him? I just slowly nodded my head and returned inside." Over the coming months, animals started to disappear. We didn't see any of the large maggots that clung within the trees, nor did we see the jaded back of the crocodiles peering up at us within the murky water below. Apart from me and Micah, we seemed to be the only two living things within the swamp. I got a bad feeling about it. There was this paranoia I had, like there was something within the swamps that I couldn't see. Then it happened again. In the corner of my eye, a humanoid figure was slowly staggering across the trees in the distance. Like I said, like last time, I looked in the direction of where this thing was, and it just disappeared. From the events that had occurred over the past few months, I began prodding Micah to help me barricade the shack. He was reluctant at first, but eventually came around. We boarded up the thin hole-ridden planks and reinforced the door, for once I felt safe. However, tomorrow was a different story. Today I woke up quite lethargic and a little later than usual. Micah wasn't sleeping in his bed, and the fishing equipment had been taken. He was usually fishing in the morning, and I just presumed that he was having a bit of a bad day catching. I got on my gear as usual and headed out of the house. I could just remember how silent it was when I opened the door. It was different today. There was no quarrel of croaking frogs, nor was there any chirping of birds. Just silence. When I went down to the usual fishing spot, where it was a wide pond that was hidden by large cypress trees, the fishing equipment laid next to the bank near the pond. However, Micah was not there. As I passed through a few of the trees, I found Micah. He was stood in the center of the pond, motionless. I got even closer, and could see that Micah was twitching from time to time, and his skin had holes on it, and was almost purple and tone. I shouted out to him, "Hey Micah, you alright?" He slowly turned to me, his arms flailing as he did. His face was completely gone, replaced by the large maggots which writhed around in his head. I could see Puss oozing between the crevices of the maggots, and slowly drooping down Micah's maggot-ridden face. His head tilted up, and the maggots formed an empty circle in the middle of his face. Out of this hole came pouring out a thick, vicious yellow liquid, which mixed itself with the pond below. Out from the pond emerged even more maggots, slowly making their way towards me. For a moment I stood both confused and horrified by the weird creature I could see before me. Any semblance of my old friend gone, removed by these pulp-like creatures. I pulled myself together, and turned around to which I saw even more people. Each person's face had been filled with maggots. I took out my pistol and fired at one of these people, and attempted to escape through the cypresses. They were everywhere, I looked slowly surrounding me. I made it back to the shack. I barricaded the door and sat against the wall, thinking of what I was going to do. I could hear them outside, a resounding wave of small, raspy moans filled my ear. Heavy thuds and scratching could be heard outside the shack, which I could only imagine was their attempt to get in. In that very moment I contemplated shooting myself so that I could avoid whatever torment awaited me outside. However, I saw my lantern hanging off the roof of the shack. I removed it from the ceiling and filled it to the brim with oil. Their moans and scratches grew louder, and this was my only chance. I ripped a plank from the wall and threw it out of the opening. The flames scored into the sky, and I could see those maggot walkers thrashing themselves against the ground in pain. With the small chance I had, I kicked the door open and began rushing past the hordes of monsters that were now engulfed in flames. I didn't stop running, not even once. Only once I got to the bridge that led to the city did I realize how exhausted I was. For what felt like ours, I sat against the fence in the outer city just collecting myself. I was filled with relief yet sorrow for losing my friend. I shortly left after that and went to Texas, which is where I live now. Far away from that vicious swamp, and I know that no amount of curiosity in the world could convince me to go back there again. About two years ago, I took a trip to the small town of Cumberland, West Virginia with a friend of mine. I won't give his name, but we'll call him Chris. Chris and I were there to see his brother, who we'll call Nick. Originally, Nick was just going to show us around, and we were going to go on a short hike on a trail he walked often. This is until Chris came across a video about the Appalachian Mountains, and how some hikers had heard creepy sounds coming from about 45 miles north of Cumberland. I already wasn't a fan of this short hike we were taking, and Nick continued to tell Chris it wasn't a great idea to go too far into the mountains, because the forest makes it easy to get lost. Chris had always had a thing for the paranormal and scary though, so him being him, he convinced me and Nick to come with him to check out the creepy sounds. Coming back, I should have said no and left, but I didn't think he would actually find anything. We ended up driving to a park that was about five or so miles away from where the alleged sounds were being heard. After walking on to one of the four trails the park offered, Chris quickly pulled off into the forest, saying, "The map says walk this way." There were so many chances to leave, but I didn't. After about 15, 20 minutes of walking, the sound of close by cars were going, and all I could hear was the sound of the sticks and leaves under my feet. Something about the sound a leaf's crunching was menacing. I found myself jumping at the sound of every little thing. He and Nick continued trying to convince him to come back, but he continued the bug us to stay and come find the ghosts, as he called it. Finally, after some time of walking, Chris came to a stop. I remembered Nick saying, "This is it. This is the middle of nowhere." I know it's cheesy, but honestly, this is where it all started. Chris began calling out jokingly, laughing even. He was basically taunting the ghosts, calling out things like, "If you're real, then prove it, and we came out here to see you." It was now that I noticed Nick looking around, watching his back. He was definitely paranoid, and it made me paranoid that I didn't know why. While Chris walked further off into the forest, I stayed back with Nick. I asked him what was wrong, but he kept saying he just didn't like the forest much, which I thought was strange, seeing as he was the one who planned a hike to begin with. Suddenly, I heard Chris yell out for us to come to him. He was out of view, so we had to follow his voice. Now Nick was trembling. I could practically see the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. At this point, we were in the middle of the forest. Chris is off doing whatever, and Nick is obviously scared shitless of something. So I grabbed his arm, jerking him back to a halt. I asked him again what was wrong, only this time I wasn't taking his excuses. Finally, after making a hundred more looks around himself, he sighed looking around and told me what was wrong. It's just that sometimes, really a lot of times, people go missing in the mountains and are never found. I remember what he told me word for word. His sentences sent a shiver down my spine. Chris called out again, telling us to hurry and to catch up. When we finally made it to him, Nick ran up to him trying to tell him what he told me. He tried to tell him why he really didn't want to come out here, and what he really meant was he said he shouldn't go too far into the mountains. But by this time, it was too late. Yeah, yeah, I don't care. Look over there. He pointed off into the distance at a small shed. This is what ticked me off. I begged him to turn around because of what Nick said, and how we were in the middle of nowhere, and that it was probably, hopefully, just an abandoned hunter's cabin. But that made him more interested, and he almost instantly took off jogging to explore the building. I rolled my eyes and me and Nick took off the catch up, but quickly stopped when a loud scream came from inside. After Nick ran up and so did I, because I definitely wasn't going to stand there alone. Chris started throwing up and gagging, and when Nick got to the door, he instantly turned around and gagged, covering his face. I could smell something wretched, and when I looked I too, instantly gagged and threw up. Warning, the next section is graphic. In the hut were three dead bodies. All of them had their stomachs ripped out, organs spilling out onto the floor around them, blood everywhere. The creepiest part though was the fact that two of their faces were gone as if ripped off except one, and that one was the girl in the video that Chris found on the internet. Without even thinking, we all took off in the direction we had came from. To this day I think God we were able to make our way back through that forest and to the car. Upon reaching the car and speeding off, I quickly dialed 911 and talked to the police. At this point, we were all frantic and crying. There was no shame at all. We were traumatized. After getting back to Nick's house, me and Chris immediately decided to fly back home, and try to forget about what we had witnessed that day. We never talked about it, in real life nor on the phone with Nick. We did our best to forget, until getting a call from a local detective from the town we were in at the time off the hike. The call was short, letting us know the details before we saw it on the news. The three bodies found were three young women, all from the video, who were last seen over four days before the day we found them. They were all under twenty, and were only taken a day hike like us. They also said that the three girls were found with an anonymous tip. Anyways, my heart goes out to the family of those three girls, and I hope no one ever has to go through the experience me and my friends went through, and I definitely hope no one ever goes through what the girls went through. As much as people wanted to believe it was an animal, it just seems very unlikely that they were dragged into the hut, and then brutally attacked by an animal, leaving not a single paw print or really just any evidence at all. No one was ever arrested for their murder, and me and Chris never went back to Cumberland. In fact, Nick moved near us, and none of us have been near the Appalachian Mountains since. Me and my family lived near the Appalachian mountain range in Virginia. My father is a very outdoorsy man, while I don't really like all that stuff he does, like camping, but one day he still took me camping. My father was around forty-five at the time, and was a pretty built guy. He was about six-two or six-three, and lifted weights regularly. He had been raised on a farm, so he always had been outdoors. I did go camping with him a few times, so I knew my way around the woods pretty well. This was supposed to be the hunting trip, where we would hunt during the day then camp at night. After a day of hiking out to the spot, which took about two hours, setting up, and hunting, we were both ready to fall asleep. My dad likes to whistle when he falls asleep, and it always helps me fall asleep. Right before I fell asleep, I heard a very strange sound and woke up. My father was still awake, so I asked him what it was. Since he had grown up outdoors and was always the outdoorsy type, he knew every single animal sound, no matter what the call was, so he told me what it was. Turns out it was a coyote. After that, I fell asleep, but was shaken awake by my father after I don't know how long. He had a very panicked look on his face, as he said we needed to get out of there. I was confused until I heard it. It was a blood-curdling scream coming from somewhere beyond the tree-line, where we couldn't see. I asked my father if we should help, since they sounded like they were in need of help, but he ignored my question. I kept on asking questions about what it was until he turned a look at me and whispered. In my forty-five years on this earth, I've never heard that noise before. This made me scared, since if anyone knew what an animal sounded like, it would have been him. Eventually we packed everything up, and as we went to pack up the tent, we heard the scream again, but this time much closer. I looked towards the trees, and saw a tall figure, maybe six-nine or six-eleven staring at us. I guess my father saw it too, because he grabbed my arm and just said, "Let's go." I was paralyzed with fear at this point, but eventually snapped out of it. I grabbed my bag and followed my father back to the car. It was about a five-mile walk back, though the whole first mile had kept on screaming as we went, and it was getting closer. If we sped up, it sped up. If we slowed down, it slowed down. At about mile three I heard a scream again, but this time it was different. It sounded louder and with more urgency. My dad must have noticed this too, because he started jogging. I tried my best to keep up, but my dad was in the peak shape and I wasn't very fit. My dad stopped with about a mile to go to catch his breath, but at that point I had no energy left, and I didn't think I could make it. Just as I was thinking that, I heard another scream, but this one was way too close. It sounded like it came from about ten feet away and it made my ears ring. This gave me a new boost as I started sprinting to the car. Eventually, I saw the tail lights of the car. My dad had passed me at this moment and opened the passenger door and I jumped in and he got in the driver's seat. Before I could even process what was happening, he sped off. As I was catching my breath in the car, I heard one final scream. This one was so loud it made my ears ring while I was in the car. My father didn't even look back, he just sped off. Eventually, we made it back home. We never told our family about this, and sometimes I asked my father what it was, and to this day, he says he doesn't know. I always thought that the legends about skin walkers were just that. Legends. Tails to scare children around campfires, to keep them from wandering too far into the wilderness. But then I came face to face with one, and I realized that they were all too real. It happened when I was out camping in the middle of nowhere, far away from civilization. I had always loved the wilderness, the feeling of being completely cut off from the world. But that night, something felt off. The air was thick and oppressive, and I could hear strange noises coming from the darkness. At first I tried to ignore it, I told myself that it was just my imagination, that I was being paranoid. But as the night wore on, the noises grew louder and more persistent. It sounded like something was scratching at the walls of my tent, trying to get in. I tried to convince myself that it was just an animal, but I knew deep down that it was something far more sinister. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the scratching stopped. The air grew still and quiet, and I felt a sense of dreads settle over me. That's when I heard the whispering. It was a low guttural sound, like nothing I had ever heard before. It was coming from just outside my tent, and it seemed to be growing louder and more insistent by the second. I wanted the run to flee into the safety of my car and drive far away from this place. But something held me back, some morbid curiosity that made me want to know what was out there. And then it happened. The tent shook violently as if it was trying to tear it apart from the outside. I could hear the fabric tearing, and I knew that I was in mortal danger. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The air grew still and quiet once again, and I was left sitting in my tent alone with my thoughts. I didn't sleep at all that night. I sat there, waiting for the sun to rise, listening to the whispers that seemed to echo in my head. And when the dawn finally broke, I knew that I had to get out of there. I packed up my things and got in my car, driving as fast as I could away from that cursed place. And as I drove, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was following me, something that had latched on to me like a parasite. I don't know if I'll ever go back to the wilderness again. The memory of that night still haunts me, and I know that there are things out there that we can't explain or understand. Skinwalkers are real, and they're not just legends. There's something far more terrifying, something that could shatter our understanding of the world around us. And I fear they're still out there, waiting in the darkness for their next victim. Tim Parker is a typical high school senior, but one day that all changed. On June 13, 2018, I was hanging out with my friends, Tom and Larry, as usual. We were driving around a few miles outside of town when we saw an old abandoned bunker in the forest. Being the curious teenagers we were, we decided to go home and get flashlights and things, and come back to explore it. Returning to the bunker, we were excited to discover what was inside. The thick metal door of the bunker was partially rusted, making it difficult for us to open, and after a few moments of struggling, we finally managed to open it, and we made our way inside. The inside of the bunker was dark and decrepit, making it give off a menacing and unwelcoming vibe. As we explored the bunker, I kept getting the feeling I was being watched. However, I chose to ignore it, and continued exploring. When we reached the first three rooms, the three of us decided to split up and search each room ourselves. I chose to search around a room that resembled a testing room. Searching the area for about five minutes, I finally found some documents labeled "chemical M research." Proud with my find, I decided to regroup with Larry, who was in the adjoining storage room next to the room I was in and showing him my find. As I approached him, eager to show him my find. We jumped at the sudden sound of Tom wailing in terror followed by a monstrous screech. Larry and I spared no time in rushing to go help our friend. Reaching the source of Tom's wailing cry, Larry and I were shocked to find only an empty canteen. Exchanging glances of confusion, we decided to search the room for clues as to what happened to our friend. As we searched the north side of the room, I heard Larry call out to me. "Tim, over here!" He called to me in an urgent tone. Rushing the sea what he had discovered, I went over to where he was hunched over examining the floor. "What is it? You find something?" I questioned. Larry motioned to the floor. "Look, a trail!" I squat down and examined the trail of bright crimson liquid leading out the south door of the room. "You don't think it's..." I started. "If it is, I sure hope it's not from Tom," Larry replied. I nodded and we began to follow the trail. We continued following the trail for a while when we heard Tom scream again. Again, we rushed to the source, in this time we find him, however, it was in a much worse condition than we had hoped. Tom was sat against the wall, leaning slightly forward, with multiple large gashes on his arms and legs as Tibia had been caught. His Tibia had a compound fracture and was protruding from his leg. As I sat there, unable to move, Larry, wearing the face of a man who had mentally broke, slowly walked over to Tom's body and placed his hands on Tom's shoulder. Tom fell to the floor of his side showing his mangled face and torso. He was missing his eyes and his lower jaw and throat looked like they had been torn off. His body also had a large gash across his waist that spilled his internal organs onto the floor. Seeing Tom now, I knew we had to get out of this bunker, but we were too late. Larry and I quickly collected ourselves and began sprinting to the exit. Just as we were about to reach the canteen, a large monstrous figure walked past the doorway causing us to stop on our tracks. Larry and I exchanged worrying glances and began slowly backing away. However, in my terror, I ended up tripping over my feet and falling backwards in an echoing thud. Larry rushed to help me to my feet, but it was too late. The creature was standing in the canteen doorway. I could just make out its shape in the darkness. It had small, sky-blue, cat-like eyes that were actually quite entrancing and beautiful, a large eight-foot frame and a werewolf appearance. Seeing the two of us standing in front of him, the beast snarled showing tens of large, serrated teeth as well of chunks of flesh from its most recent meal. The werewolf took a thundering step towards us, creating a large dent in the metal flooring of the bunker and howled. Clutching my ears to don't go deaf from the ear-splitting sound, I turned the Larry and mouthed the word "run." Larry nods in response, and we sprint away from the now pursuing beast. In a sharp corner we hide in the nearest room, hoping we have escaped. The werewolf tries to make the same turn but slips in the- the werewolf tries to make the same turn but slips on the metallic floor due to the dog-like pause. When it gets back up, it seems to have lost us as it continues past the room we were hidden in. After a minute, I turned the Larry and Whisper. I don't think that was the thing that killed Tom. I don't think so either, Larry agreed. Not how we heard after Tom's first scream sounded much different. As we continued discussing about how we would escape, we heard the werewolf howl once again. "Oh God," Larry cried, "Is it coming back?" "I don't think so," I answered. That sounded like it was hurt or something. We sat there in silence for a while after that, just waiting, anticipating what would happen next. No matter how much waiting and anticipating we did, nothing could have prepared us for what we saw next. The sound of the groaning metal floor along with the clacking of claws on the floor and the screeching from the metal walls as it dragged its claws across them as it walked through the hallway showed something was approaching and would be here in seconds. The sounds grew closer until they were right at the doorway. The new creature steps into the room. It had a grotesque appearance with a rat-like face, long, scaly arms, six inch long claws on each hand, short but muscular legs, a long crocodile-like tail and a back covered in long spines. As I stare at the creature, I discover that it's holding something in its left hand, squinting the make-out what it is. I realize it is the decapitated head and spine of the werewolf creature. Seems like this thing went full predator on the werewolf. The rat crocodile thing throws the decapitated head against the wall and roars. Hearing the roar, I realize that this is the thing that killed Tom and I have a feeling that it knows we're here. Proving my theory, the creature grabs the door to the lockers Larry and I are hiding in and tears them off with ease. We are now face to face with this creature. The creature stares at us with yellow orange eyes filled with hatred and killing intent. And snarls, raising its left arm to strike. As the creature swings its arm, Larry pushes me out from the locker, allowing me to avoid the certain death. However, Larry was not as lucky and is impaled by the creature and lifted into the air. Larry turns to me, coughing up blood and says, "Forget about me, I'm already dead, just run." I turn away tears in my eyes and start running. Before I could even make it in three feet, I'm hit with a sudden sharp pain in my right leg and turn the see the creature piercing it with the claw on its right hand. The creature then wraps its tail around my legs, pulling me to the ground and attempts the stab me in the stomach. Despite my fetal struggle, the creature easily cuts two inches into my abdomen, causing me to scream in pain. Larry, clinging to life by a thread and still held on by the creature, punches the creature getting its attention. The beast howls in rage and throws Larry against a wall, ripping its claws out from my abdomen and goes to where Larry is slumped against the wall. After getting the creature's attention, Larry motions for me to go. I quickly get to my feet, which shoots immense pain throughout my body, and leave the room. As I'm running away, I hear Larry cry in pain and then… silence. Knowing the creature is probably hunting me down right now, I find a room that appears to be a panic room with no windows, a reinforced door, and multiple other safety features. I quickly enter the room and slam the door, just as I see that murdering monstrosity turn the corner and lock it. I sit down in the corner of the room and started riding this. I probably won't live much longer. I could feel the life draining from my body. And even if I was able to live through this wound, that monster has been pounding on the door. The door should come down any. The forest behind my house has always been strange. Ever since I moved here, I've always had refused to go into the forest alone. It always feels like I'm being watched, not by a person, but the forest itself. I know it sounds crazy riding it here, but now I know the truth. My parents went out of town about a day ago. My dad had a conference to go to for work, and my mom decided to tag along. I'm now 17 years old, so they knew I could handle myself for the next week. Anyways, one of my good friends, Jayden, decided to come over for the weekend. We were playing video games for a few hours, and we eventually got bored. Jayden suggested we explore the forest behind my house, like a ghost hunting thing. I thought that would be fun, so I agreed. It was now about 9.30 at night during the height of winter, so we grabbed jackets, boots, flashlights, and gloves. After gearing up, I went over to my dad's office and grabbed two radios. My dad owns a construction company, so he always has cool stuff in his office. As we ventured out into the forest, I got a dreadful feeling that maybe we shouldn't be exploring this forest at night. I shrugged it off as the forest was just being creepy, and we slowly got deeper into the forest. After about 20-30 minutes, I decided to suggest to Jayden we should maybe go back. I think he got the feeling I did earlier because he agreed. As we were turning around, Jayden called out to me. I turned around and saw what he had found. It was a small cave entrance, and he said that we should go explore it. I protested, but he didn't listen to me. Regretfully, I followed him. I tried to keep up with Jayden, but he moved too fast. Eventually, I got lost and started to call out to him. Then out of nowhere, Jayden appeared. He explained that he had found a lady unconscious while he was exploring, and we needed to get her out and contact the authorities. Immediately I agreed, and I followed him to the lady who needed help. When we got to the location, he was confused. I asked him what was wrong, and he explained that she was gone. I immediately was weirded out and told him we should go. He was still staring at the corner, and I decided to pull him towards me, and then immediately. It looked like he snapped out of a trance. He agreed to leave with me, and we started to make our way out. I was getting a bit spooked, and it looked like he was too. Something was wrong, really wrong. As we exited the cave, I turned around, Jayden was gone. My phone buzzed, and it was a text from Jayden. He said he was sorry that he was late, and that he would be at my house soon. My blood ran ice cold. And as I let the text sink into my mind, I heard a scream come from the cave. A tall, smiling, humanoid creature running on all four limbs exited the cave running at me. I ran, my heart was racing. I was scared crapless. As I ran, I heard it behind me. It caught up to me for a second and slashed at my legs. It hit my left leg, and I yelped out in pain. As I fell over, I realized there was a cliff ahead. Out of options, I got up and limped over to the cliff. Not thinking, I jumped and fell into a body of water. As I plummeted into the ice cold water, with the last bit of energy I had, I did my best to swim to shore. My leg was still aching, and I needed to find my way out of the forest. I heard a high pitch scream in the distance, and I knew it wouldn't be long before that thing found me. I had to move fast. I realized after moving deeper into the heart of the forest, I couldn't keep up with my leg. I also realized that the fall down the water aggravated my other leg also. I looked around and spotted a wooden shack. Out of options, I limped towards it, tried the door, and it opened. I was safe, for now. The shack's layout was almost like a tool shed. Many tools on the wall, a shelf in the very back with boxes upon boxes on it. I took out my phone and tried to call the police. As I suspected, I got no signal. Frustrated, I threw my phone against the wall. I was scared, alone, and badly hurt. Just then, I heard the door swing open, and the ominous click-off safety on a gun. The figure holding the gun was a man with slick black hair. He looked to be in his mid-fifties. He had a long beard also. He asked me who I was, and why was I in his tool shed. I explained to him, I was lost and hurt, and then I needed help. He noticed how bruised I was, and I showed him the gash on my leg. He put the gun down and introduced himself. His name was Darren. Darren helped me up, and I asked him if he had a phone on him. He said no, and explained that you didn't get service on this side of the forest. He did however, know his way around the forest, and he could take me to the nearest road. I agreed, and followed him in the darkness. Not even five feet outside the shack, and I saw another four men and animal masks waiting outside. Before I could do anything, I was hit in the head with the butt of Darren's rifle. It all went black. I woke up tied to a tree trunk with Darren's staring at me. The four men and animal masks were behind him, holding different assortments of weapons. Darren, look who's finally awake, just in time. Me, what the hell is going on? Why are you people doing this to me? Darren, you interrupted the cycle, you weren't supposed to escape the forest, the desolate shows you. Me. What the eff are you talking about, please just let me go. Darren, you were supposed to die, the desolate wishes it. Me. Please, please, I'll give you guys money. Just please let me go, I'm begging you, I won't tell anyone you have my word. Just that I heard it scream. It was coming near. With that, the five men left, and I was left to die. I started to panic, my heart was racing, I was tied up to a tree left for dead. I had to find a way out. I then remembered in my pocket I had a pocket knife. For some reason those crazy bastards didn't take it off of me. I slowly shuffled my hand towards my pants pocket and attempted to grab the knife. I managed to grab it and cut myself free. But then I saw it, the creature found me. As soon as I got up, I tried the run but remembered my leg was hurt. There was no way I could outrun this thing. Just then, Darren and the other four men came back. They started coming towards me, but then the creature lunged towards the five men, tearing each of them limb from limb as they fought. The amount of gunshots was deafening. I took this chance to escape, and as fast as I could, I got out of there. I could still hear the shrieks of the men and that creature. I had to keep going. I had to get out of this forsaken forest. I just hoped my luck doesn't get worse. All grew silent, and the forest stood still. The hoarse sound of my shallow breaths sounded ten times louder in the still silence. The creature that's in this forest is nowhere to be heard or seen. Looking back, I should have grabbed something to protect myself. Even if it was just a sharp frickin' stick. I realized now how close I was to joining those men and death. I was tired, in constant pain, and in constant fear. Minutes turned to hours, and I noticed the forest was getting thinner. The amount of space to walk was decreasing in size. After a moment of realization, I turned around to go back. That's when I saw it, or rather, I saw myself. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, and then my doppelganger was moving towards me. I noticed its hand. He was holding something. He was holding a knife. He went into a full sprint, and his face distorted. I felt my soul leave my body and turn around and did my best to try to outrun him. I knew with my injuries I couldn't gain much distance, but I had the try. I tripped over a rock and fell forward. I turned around and noticed he was standing over me, smiling. He lifted the knife and plunged it down towards my chest. I closed my eyes and waited for death to take me, but then nothing happened. It was silent again. I opened my eyes, and a faint maniacal laugh echoed into nothing. I was alive. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then I broke down. I just wanted to leave this forest. I couldn't take it anymore. When I got control of my emotions again, I knew I had to keep going. After what felt like 10 minutes, I came across a crossroads in the path. I could either go left, right or straight. I decided to go left, but that was a mistake. I know that now. At the time I was just too tired. I didn't think it could get worse. The scene I saw still haunts me. Dismembered bodies in the trees, blood on tree trunks. So much frickin' blood. It was a scene from hell itself. I couldn't take it, I was sick. I fell to my knees and threw up. When I got up a minute later, I noticed that at the end of the path was a cave entrance. The same cave entrance that started this nightmare. When I got closer to it, I could hear screams from inside, maniacal laughter than more screams. I can't get them out of my head to this very day. Against my better judgment, I entered the cave. As I was walking through the cave, the twisted turns got nauseating, and then that creature found me again, the same creature that tore those cultists limb from limb, and I think this is its home. It screamed and then laughed as it chased me. I fought through the pain and fear and went as fast as I could through every turn. Eventually I saw it, an exit from the cave. I jumped through, hitting a grassy plane and passing out. I woke up in a hospital, IVs in my arm, and a cast on one of my legs. My whole body looked like it was beating the crap, and I could see spots where I'd been bleeding heavily. I turned my head and noticed my parents to my side. They looked a shovel and looked at me as if they were looking at a ghost. Later I found out. I was reported missing five months earlier, and that the hiker found me passed out outside of a cave a day ago. It's been two years since, and I still have not fully recovered. Every once in a while, I'll hear it. I'll see something out of the corner of my eye that resembles that thing. All I could say is that I am glad to be away from that forest, but something keeps trying to lure me back. I pray that none ever goes through what I did. I went camping out at Trinity Lake this October in Idaho. My brother and his mom's family told me how great it was out there. I figured if we did it on a weekday that late into this year, we could be alone. Truly be out on a nature's experience after doing nothing but staying in the city for the past two years. When I was not told, was that the road out there was a two hour crawl through dirt roads. The final 10 miles of which are practically animal trails on the edge of mountains. It was a very rough trip in a big-ass F-250, Red Flag #1 in hindsight. But by the time the roads got that bad, we were so far in I was committed. We would do this, and it would be a unique experience for both of us. God, I eat those words. When we finally made it to the first campground area on the smallest lake, we just wanted to get out of the truck and couldn't take much more bone-shaking rock crawling. So we did that, meaning we were in a different spot where him and that side of the family had camped farther up on the big lake. Something with the setup was standard, we had gotten what we needed. We were completely alone, only the fire watch tower 2 miles back and over a mountain if anything went wrong. This should have been Red Flag #2, but we figured we had enough gear and knowledge if a bear or cougar came along. Another important thing was the rules of that area say no guns, so we didn't bring one. But even as a last resort kind of tool, Red Flag #3. Not one hour after setting up camp all the way, I hear a snap off on the other side of the empty campground while me and him are talking. He didn't notice, but I looked to see two giant antlers. I knew what it was immediately. I rushed him quietly into the truck, and a big bull moose spreads into view behind the truck. We didn't freaking know there was moose out there, and they had not seen any when I camped at the main campgrounds earlier in the year. We were not that scared because he ran off immediately after we got some good footage of him by the lake. We just thought it was a rare chance encounter and we're kind of in awe at the experience. I know how crazy dangerous moose are, but I never bothered researching the details on their behavior or anything like that. Big mistake, not immediately packing everything and getting out while we still had enough daylight too. We hopped out of the truck, making sure he was long gone, and continued our now much cooler nature trip relaxing and taking photos. Almost three hours later. I hear that same kind of cracking, but a lot more of it, and it's approaching our campsite quickly. We are not close enough to the truck with how fast it's coming, so I pull my brother into the tent and just stay perfectly still. I didn't even want to breathe, has five or more moose, with two bulls that seem to be chasing each other around sprinting past our campsite on both sides. We can only see out the front flap of the tent and determine the whereabouts outside of that from the footsteps and what we assumed were mating calls. This time, we were not so excited about it, nearly crapping bricks, and just praying when we got out of the tent, that there wouldn't be a lurking moose that hadn't gone with the rest of them. There wasn't, but now there was not enough light to pack everything up and get out the safety. We no longer felt safe, and were constantly on edge knowing at any moment, we may need to get to the truck and have to be aware. The plan was now to pack up as soon as morning broke, and we just had to make it till then. When night came, we actually relaxed again, thinking that with the fire up and it being night, surely we were done with any possible moose in the area. We just wanted to eat and smoke our cigars around the campfire. We had our fire going strong, ate our food, and had our cigars ready. However, we needed a bit more firewood to last for our smoke before bed. So we made a small trip. It was pitch black in that forest even with our eyes adjusted. The second we got away from the camp to the area that we had been gathering from, me and him were both on edge again. We just got that feeling like something was watching us, just on the edge of the light from my phone. So we hurried up, scurrying back to the campsite like you just turned off the stairs light, and breathed a sigh of relief. The fire was safe, nothing was out there, everything was fine. Then, the bone chilling crunch of one of those thick branches that we had dropped in our hurry, just on the edge of our fire light, directly behind us. Every single instinct and reactionary fiber in my being activated right then, the only word I had plainly and coarsely told my brother was "truck". I had already made my two strides to the truck. My brother told me after the fact. The way that word left your mouth took me out of freeze mode. It was the most direct, fear-induced command I had ever received. To our horror, the truck had auto-locked. The one or two seconds it took me to fumble the keys out of my tight, regular pockets, and hit that button felt like hell. We jumped into the truck, and I scrambled over to him as he slammed the door to fling the headlights on. Right there, right in front of the fire that we had just been standing at, a bolt, staring the truck down, but the part that makes this all so much more effed up, he didn't look like a normal moose. The fur was all patchy, and it looked discolored. Like he was rotting on the outside, but still easily taller than the lift and truck. I watched him slowly walk out of the headlights back into the darkness while staring at us. I turned off the lights immediately so our eyes could adjust, and at least we could see around the truck at least. We were freaking out and filled with adrenaline still, but doing so quietly. Neither him nor I could agree on if these next occurrences were just a shared paranoia or not. For nearly an hour at 10 p.m. in the night, we heard heavy footsteps just slowly moving big circles around the truck. Eventually we stopped hearing anything at all, and the forest was completely silent. We cracked the windows to make sure. Defining silence. No bugs, no frogs, no owls, nothing. We sat there in additional 30 minutes listening for anything at all, but still silence. Neither of us wanted to do it, but all our warm gear was in the tent, and it was dropping the 28th that night. We would not fare well in just our normal clothing, so we slowly opened the doors and started the sneak to the tent. The moment we did, footsteps on my side of the forest coming towards us. Both of us fly back into the truck, clicking the lock button like maniacs. I couldn't take it anymore. I nearly lost my cool, but knew I had to keep it for my brother's sake too. It was stalking us. Is it even a freaking moose? Don't do this. It was almost midnight when that freaking happened. We kept throwing these statements around to each other, trying to rationalize what we were experiencing, and how our nice escape from the city had turned into a horror movie. With the unnatural look at the moose that we thought had been keeping us trapped in the truck for an hour and a half, we started talking about it being a skinwalker even. Some might think this would freak us out more, but starting to make things a supernatural event, and joking in our dark sense of humor is what helped us calm down. We were still shaken to our core though, but the fear was stronger than the bite of the cold that was setting in. There was no way in hell we were leaving that truck again until it was morning and we could see. We managed to fall asleep at about 1230, but the forest was still dead silent, and it put dreaded me. It wasn't until nearly two that all of a sudden, crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. The normal forest sounds came back, and I'd stayed up until the temperature reached its bottom for the night. I turned the heater on full blast for a few minutes to stop the unbearable chill so I could sleep, waking up and repeating that every 45 minutes to keep us warm until morning. Then, I opened my eyes to light and shook him awake. We packed in 15 minutes and left. I'm not a story writer, so I'm sorry if this is a sloppy read, if anyone reads this long ass post at all, but nothing has striked such a primal fear in me ever. I've had guns pointed at me, other dangerous encounters with animals. None of those compared to the terror this incident caused. I now fear camping and even going into the woods at all. So the title might be a bit weird, so I'll try to put this in a way that makes sense. Frankly speaking, I'm a wildlife conservationist since I do work with protecting endangered species of animals during the day, but most of my time at night, my job requires me to give assistance to entities of the more supernatural kind. I specifically help with situations involving yokai, which is a very bad broad term referring to various creatures and mythological beings of Japanese folklore and urban legends. The job title doesn't really have an official name, rather I coined it when I first started to help out. As for why I have started this kind of work in the first place? Like the yokai, I help. I know what it's like not to find it here in Japan, since while my mother's Japanese and my father was born and raised in Sydney before he came here for schooling. It probably didn't hurt that I loved learning about mythology and grew up watching Steve Irwin on our tiny living room television. Of course, being a rookie at this job, I've only interacted with spirits of the more harmless variety, at least until a few nights ago. This particular job I was sent on seemed simple enough. I was asked to escort a shrine maiden to an old shrine hidden within the depths of Okigara forest. In a recent visit, someone had discovered that a straw doll had been hammered to a tree within the grounds of the shrine, an act meant to be used in cursing someone and is usually considered illegal here in Japan. Doing this to a shrine is bad enough, but the shrine was here to keep peace with the Tataragami, a type of yuri, which is the Japanese term for ghost. That I had never worked with before, let alone the scene. Usually the spirit of a fallen deity or that of murdered Japanese noble, Tataragami are the type of entity you wouldn't want to piss off. Plagues, famine, natural disasters, events like this capable of destroying an entire village can be traced back to the Tataragami. In fact, Tataragami are so powerful, your only chances of preventing one from destroying your town is to build them a shrine, keep it maintained, and make sure it's constantly given them tribute. The spirit in question who shrine we were sent to was that of an ancient warlord's daughter who lost her life when enemies of her father blazed their village to the ground. Her undead wrath was said to be so immense that the villagers eventually fled, even after her father ordered a shrine to be built to honor her memory. And this shrine was now the reason why two young women, myself and the shrine, made it I was accompanying, were traveling through one of the largest and most haunted forests in the world. Due to that, and the occasional mist rolling through the trees, it took the two of us a few days to reach our destination. We managed to become good friends while traveling, with her sharing stories of her apprenticeship under her local head shrine maiden, and myself telling about all the yokai I've interacted with. One of her favorites that she wouldn't let me go down was how I nearly got eaten by a Georgomo on my very first job in my career. Eventually however, all fun had the weight as we finally approached the land where the village once stood. As we walked through the rotted wood gates of the village, I almost immediately felt a chill run down my spine. Even though I had only been working with yokai for a month, it was enough time to recognize if I was being watched. I exchanged a glance and gnawed with the shrine maiden next to me. For even if we didn't know exactly where the Tertagami was, she knew exactly where we were. Together we cautiously walked through the ruins towards the shrine in the center, making sure to keep our eyes and ears open for trouble. The sun was barely visible as it was setting in the distance, with our surroundings starting to get darker with each passing minute. Just as we reached the shrine, I was able to make out the doll mentioned before, the other shrine maiden not having the right tools to remove it hence why I was there. Immediately, the two of us chose to split up, with the shrine maiden using the special tool she brought to repair the shrine itself while I brought out the hammer to take down the straw doll. Just as I approached the tree however, I began to feel the slight sensation of heat nearby. I tensed up to this, for by this point the sun had long since set. There was also a light around me, brighter than the small flashlight I had in my bag. I slightly turned to my head to look behind me, and what I saw filled me with dread that I could barely describe. To properly describe a tatagami's true form is pretty much impossible, since they are entities so powerful that no mortal mind can comprehend what they truly look like. Even now, trying to think back to what I fully saw not only gives me a headache, but causes me to feel overwhelmed with unfiltered terror. I could describe some of what I was able to make out, since although I couldn't comprehend everything what I was able to see, appeared to be a humanoid shape made of fire and darkness. Through the smoke that surrounded me physically and mentally, I could tell that this humanoid appearance to be a woman in her late teens early 20s, one of ethereal, unearthly beauty. The one thing I remember most was ash wine eyes, filled to the brim with rage that one would make even the most dangerous of Oni hesitate the draw near. She didn't say a word, but it didn't take much to know that she was angry at whoever had been foolish enough to desecrate her shrine. I knew then that this doll needed to be removed, and the tree given treatment as soon as possible. I didn't know what she might have done to the person who left the doll there, and I certainly didn't want to find out. And so, with a polite bow and a mumbled apology to the vengeful spirit, I turned back to the straw doll and used the hammer's claw to pull out the nails holding the doll in place. There was a brief flash of light as the doll fell from the tree, and before my eyes I saw I get reduced the ashes, and then nothingness before it hit the ground. I was confused for a few seconds until I remembered that ghosts, particularly vengeful spirits of any kind, tend to have power over anything involved in their deaths. A victim of drowning would have hydroconethicists, a victim of esphyseviation would likely be able to control something like their hair, so on and so forth. Even though I was still terrified out of my wits, I couldn't help but still feel remorse over the loss of this spirit's life. To die in such a young age and such a cruel way was indeed horrible. As I finished tappy wooden dowel rods into the holes left behind by the nails, I decided that I would do more than just leave an offering to the shrine once the repairs were done. Right after I finished my work on the tree, I turned around again, only to be somewhat taken back to find that the tattergami was no longer hovering over my shoulder like she had been moments before. Truth be told, as I approached the shrine, both of us were surprised to find that not only had the tattergami chosen not to attack me as I worried, she didn't even go near the shrine maiden at all. It was after we set up and lit some incense at the shrine that I decided to do one last thing before we left. The point that I still had rice over from one of our dinners earlier that evening, I felt it into a bowl and placed a pair of chopsticks in the center. Then I walked over to the village's old cemetery and placed the bowl at the front of the head stone that my friend ensured me was the tattergami's, made another bow a respect, and turned to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I could briefly make her out again, glancing back and forth between me and the bowl of rice. The light of her flames faded the farther I walked away until I couldn't see her at all once we had made it out of the village. On our way back to civilization, the shrine maiden and I acknowledged what we had seen, and it dawned on me just how close I was to death. I figured that maybe this job was just a fluke, and that hopefully I wouldn't have to worry about coming face to face with yet another entity that could bring my life to ruin with the curse. I didn't realize until the morning after I got back home just how wrong I was. Things have felt off ever since I returned to my cozy little apartment. There have been a couple of nights where I had woken up sweating due to heat, despite my thermostat being set at room temperature and it's currently being winter outside. No matter how much rice I buy, I've been running out twice as fast as I usually would have before, and I found hair that isn't mine in my shower and bathtub. On top of that, I sleep in a small single bed, yet it feels like I'm not alone in my bed during the night. There's even been times where I've sworn to have seen wisps of black smoke out of the corner of my eye, only to not have seen it when I look again. Until this morning, I thought I was just going crazy from stress, but then I was washing my face. I saw those same eyes staring at me from behind my shoulder in the bathroom mirror. Right at that moment, I remembered that some ghosts like the haunt specific people, often following them home from places they once were haunting. To be honest, I don't know what's more terrifying. Thinking about how I might have unintentionally invited a very powerful vengeful spirit to be my new roommate or having to explain to my family why I'm now needing to gather supplies to build a small shrine in my apartment. My name is William, and I am being hunted by something. I have explored all the forests of America, but never in my life have I experienced a horror greater than the enigmatic Slender Man, and whatever it was is coming for me now. I was on my way to Mount Lemon after I had returned home to Arizona. I have decided to make that my final exploration of the year, so I took my best friend with me to share the experience. When we arrived, we set up camp in a patch of forest close to our car in the road. The day went by fast, and too soon, night would fall. It was that night that we heard the first warning of our fate. After we had eaten dinner, we were settling down for the night. We heard something that sounded like the whale of an air raid siren, but it only sounded once, which troubled us. At first, I thought that the nearby city of Tucson was being attacked, but we heard and saw nothing in the south. Then we heard it again, louder this time. Because of the mysterious sound, we kept our lights off and our mouths shut the entire time, just in case it wasn't our imagination. The next day, we went to the mountains community to find out what that thing we heard was that night. We asked other people if they had heard it, searching things on our computers, even looking for similar instances in history or reference books in the library. But we couldn't find any answers, except one. The only answer we could find, and that was at the end of the day, was an old man who told us that what we heard was the howl of a creature known only as the forest dweller. He told us that in ancient times, a group of native Indians had came to this forest region to perform a ritual of some sorts to contact their gods. But the product of the ritual was not a means of communicating with the native gods, but a monstrous creature which killed half of the Indians who had summoned it and the other half were dragged away into an obscure portal to another realm. I never really believed in the man's story, until that night. By nightfall, we had settled down in our tent, thinking of the old man's story of the forest dweller. While I slept, I had a nightmare of the creature itself, opening its portal and dragging me into it, though I could not see it at all. I awoke with the start. It was still nighttime. Before I could go back to sleep, I heard something that made my heart twist, an other worldly bellowing roar. My friend woke up with the gas behorber. Whatever it was, it was very close to our location. Then, we heard something else that made us stiffened to where we sat as still as statues. Multiple thick heavy footsteps coming our way. It sounded like four people were walking towards us. When they stopped, there was a pause before something made of wood grabbed my friend and pulled him out of the tent. I rushed out to help him, but I was hit in the head by something thick and heavy. When my vision cleared, I saw it holding my friend. It was a horrific sight, completely made of wood, eight legs, a horrible smiling face, teeth like blades, claws like sides. It took my screaming friend and sliced him to bits, sending the gibs into oblivion before it turned to me and reached out to me. I got to my feet and ran for it. The creature was chasing me, roaring as it lunged forward. I had managed to make it back to the car and drove off as fast as I could. I could still hear the creature chasing after me, but oddly enough, the mirror didn't show its reflection, neither did the rear view camera, it only showed digital interference. As the forest faded from view, so did the roars of the forest dweller, but I had made eye contact with it and I can't be sure of it, but I think it knows me and now I can't be sure any place where there are trees can be safe at all. It's been seven years since then, but I cannot get the image of that horrible wooden face out of my head. The nightmares are the worst, I could see the creature holding my friend, he's screaming for help, I cannot move, and in a single slash, he's gone and sent into the dark realm. Out of sheer fear I cannot sleep, cannot go anywhere where the trees are thick, cannot look at spiders anymore, cannot bear to listen to howls or sirens. I don't know where it is, but I know that it's coming for me and that it does not give up when it finds a victim. The forest dweller is relentless and it will not stop until it gets me. What I saw will haunt me until the day I die, which I hope is soon. I didn't know what to make of it at first, just subtle, almost inconspicuous changes in my everyday life, yet they left me with a nagging feeling I couldn't shake. As a park ranger, I've been working these trails for years, and I know every inch like the back of my hand, but on random occasions they seemed different, as if the very earth beneath my feet had shifted slightly, just enough to set my nerves on edge. I'd set out every morning on those familiar trails, those that I'd walked countless times, and every so often, something was off. A turn I swore I've never seen, a tree that seemed at a place, or a path extending far beyond its usual reach. It was disorienting, as if the very fabric of the park was shifting when I wasn't looking. Looking back, I still can't recall when exactly it all began, and I don't consider myself paranoid, but in hindsight, I have to wonder if a little of that could have changed anything for the better. After all, in my time, I had seen plenty of what the uninitiated might consider odd, even bizarre. People would go missing sometimes, hikers getting lost, or venturing too close to a ravine. One or two others I could remember were never found. Other times, more than once, I radioed in a rusted-out car, models that were decades old, and seemed to have sat there for about as long. But no one could figure out when or how they got there. Then there would be the occasional abandoned campsite, usually by unscrupulous campers days prior. But the weird ones, those I still don't know what to make of them. Not just abandoned, but also out of place. Miles from any trail, where I'd find them while searching for lost hikers or scouting new routes, their contents typical and yet too decomposed for their age, and the recent state they were in. The headaches though, they were something else. They always started behind my eyes, a dull throbbing that gradually grew, spreading like a dark cloud over my thoughts. I'd sit in my truck, parked under a canopy of ancient trees, clutching my temples, hoping the pain would recede, but it never did, not entirely. Even at the time, I knew it wasn't just work stress. I tried to self-medicate, even broke down and went to the doctor. But whether it came in a bottle of liquor or a pill, medicine didn't help. The episodes were no less frequent or more predictable, and as hard as I tried to keep it together day to day, people began to notice. "Hey Jim, you don't look so good, you alright?" My friend and fellow Ranger Eric asked, "A look of concern growing as he scanned me up and down." "Yeah, fine," I sighed, "just a headache." "You sure? You don't have to come with me today," he said. "I'm not even sure what I'm looking for up there anyway." But they were last seen up in that area a few days ago when they ran into those kayakers we interviewed. "So I'm just gonna make a pass and see if there's anything to it. But right now, we can't even locate the car they came with." "Mary, over at the lodge, told me they checked out already." "Could be they just left without telling anyone their plans?" "Nah, I groaned, raising to my feet." "The lady who called it in, someone's mother, she sounded pretty distraught. She swore they were supposed to be back home by yesterday morning at the latest. I'll be fine." "Suit yourself," Eric replied. "There's some aspirin in the truck if you need it. I wanna be back before dark. No sense wandering around out there when we can't see anything without a maglite." I nodded, willing myself to the door with whatever coffee I had left in my system. The drive up the mountain wasn't long, but I wasn't in the state to handle the meandering little road that slithered up its sides in a way that would make you forget he was even paved. By the time I climbed out and looked around, I had a fair bit of nausea to add to the throbbing pain in my head. "Alright," Eric announced, spreading a well-worn map at the park over the hood of the truck as if it was a canvas. He began tracing his finger back and forth through foot trails that crawled out like spider veins from the main road where he stopped. The kayakers said they ran into our missing hikers somewhere along the trail here. As far as they could tell, they weren't in any distress. They were just heading this way. If they were coming in this direction, shouldn't their car have been somewhere nearby? I interjected. All these trails near the river converge in a few places between here and there. "Could be," said Eric, "unless they made it to the car and went somewhere else. I'm going to head northeast towards the river and then follow it to the bridge along the main road. I want you to check the area around the trails here in the other direction. If you can't make it to Eagle Point within the next few hours, turn back so we can make sure to meet back at the truck before dark. Keep your radio on and let me know if you see anything unusual." "Sure," I responded. "Shouldn't we bring in search and rescue?" "I can't justify it without at least doing a thorough sweep ourselves first," Eric lamented. "Right now we can't even say for certain they're still in the park. And if we could find anything to narrow down this search area further, they're going to want that information." I nodded, grabbing my pack from the back of the truck and slinging it over my shoulder as I turned towards the path that led down into the woods. "I'll keep you posted. Anything else I should know?" I asked. "Sounds good. You know about as much as I do," Eric replied. "Thanks for your help, Jim." It didn't take long for me to lose sight of Eric and the truck as we went our separate ways. The area was vaguely familiar to me, though I couldn't remember if I'd ever taken this particular trail before. Occasionally, I ventured into a clearing or animal track to check for trash, gear, blood. Anything that might indicate a human being had recently been there. Nevertheless, I couldn't shake the feeling Eric was right about the couple I was looking for. Maybe they really did just leave. If they were missing, who's to say they weren't stranded somewhere along the old highway leading out of the mountains and back to civilization where the state police should be searching for them. I mean, we had reported the case as soon as it came in, but as far as the cops knew, there's no sign they had returned from the park. My thoughts were interrupted by streams of light penetrating the dense forest. I could hear the river in the distance and wondered how Eric was getting along. I should have been more close to Eagle Point by now, at least according to the GPS. But something was... off. The trees themselves began to take on a spectral quality. Their leaves shimmered with an eerie, unnatural light, like a translucent veil concealing a hidden world. I stumbled upon an ancient, gnarled trunk. His bark festooned with grotesque shapes that seemed to pulse and writhe. The vegetation around it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I could best describe it as both dead and alive, a grotesque mockery of nature. It was then I realized I couldn't hear anything. No birds, no insects, not even the wind. The silence was so heavy it felt suffocating. My head was pounding ruthlessly, and I regretted not bringing the painkillers from the truck. As I took a swig of water and studied myself against the monstrosity, I looked behind me towards the trail and stopped in my tracks. The uncanny, ethereal landscapes seemed to stretch from miles in all directions. Even in the state I was, I knew I couldn't have gone that far from the trail. I checked the GPS again, and sure enough, it indicated I was more or less where I expected to be. Still, I couldn't recognize any of the ground I had traversed. Apart from turning around and walking back the way I was, sure I'd come. I couldn't tell which way the trail could be. I sighed in pain and bewilderment, reaching for my radio. I gritted my teeth and pressed the button on the side, not just because my head was killing me by now, because I could hardly believe I had made such a rookie mistake. Eric it's Jim, come in. Static. Eric it's Jim, I'm somewhere close to Eagle Point Off Trail, and I think I need help. Do you copy? Static. A flash of anger and helplessness took a hold of me, as I thought of Eric reminded me to keep my radio on. There was no way we had time to get out of range, at least not on foot, even if I wasn't where I thought I was. I called again and got nothing. Though it didn't seem to be getting dark yet, I knew I needed to start now if I wanted to get back before then. Relying on the GPS, I retraced my steps. But the closer it indicated I was getting to the trail, the less I recognized my surroundings. The ground felt strange beneath my feet as I walked, like it was absorbing the sounds of my footsteps. The unsettling dread of this place was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It wasn't just the bareness, the absence of wildlife or the oppressive stillness. I had gotten turned around and lost in the past for brief periods while hiking alone, but that had only happened when I was much further off trail than I was supposed to be by now. None of this had made any sense. It was as if this patch of land existed in a reality of its own, governed by its own rules, unknown and malivolent. Sure enough, the GPS soon showed my location as nearby right on top of where the trail was supposed to be. But as I looked around, suppressing the fear growing inside my chest, I might as well had been hundreds of miles away. I kept trying Eric on the radio with the same result as before. It should have been getting dark by now, and I should have been well on my way back to the truck where I was sure Eric would be waiting before long. But nothing was as it should be. I sat down on a boulder that looked like it had been consumed by some kind of blackish veining growth that reached down into the soil. Exhausted and dizzy, hunger pangs joining the pulsating blows inside my head. If I didn't figure out what the hell was going on soon, I'd have to confront the reality of spending the night alone lost in this alien place. Then I saw it. No more than fifty feet away, stashed in a clearing that was nowhere near any discernible path was a blue mid-sized SUV matching the description of the vehicle that belonged to the missing couple. How could I have missed that on my first pass through here? My rose cautiously, trying to figure out how it was even possible for any vehicle to have made it out of wherever this was, let alone without leaving behind any apparent tracks or even disturbance to the surroundings. I checked the GPS again, and saw I was supposedly near the main road, not far from where we had left the truck. I yanked the radio off my belt. Eric, come in, it's Jim, I think I found it. I think I found the car, do you copy? Static again. Eric, come in, it's Jim, please, I... I took my finger off of the button and cursed under my breath, useless. I resolved to check it out for myself. Maybe I could figure out where they went. More importantly, I might be able to at least drive it back to the road and find the truck in the off-chance they left a key. But the closer I got, the more confused I felt. The missing hikers were last seen just days ago, and they hadn't arrived at the park for more than a few days before that. Yet what I was seen looked as though it had been left there for months, maybe even years. I slowed, fairly certain this wasn't what I thought it was. But as I closed the gap, I could see the plates match their car. This, this can't be, I muttered to myself, almost hesitating to reach for the door like it was some kind of trap. A chilling otherworldly shriek pierced the silence. So suddenly my whole body flinched and I fell down in shock. It was a high-pitched inhuman whale that somehow managed to penetrate the Dryconian calm, reverberating through the forest like a bell. I've heard the calls of countless animals in my time. But this? Before I could collect myself, it rang out again, closer this time. My head throbbed harder than ever, and I was overcome by inescapable vertigo. My symptoms intensified as whatever this thing was closed in. I clawed my way towards the car, raised myself up to the handle of the near passenger door and threw myself inside. I don't even remember turning to close the door behind me before I passed out, just as the howls of my pursuer reached the clearing. When I came to, I struggled through what felt like a nasty hangover to get my bearings. Bluried and disoriented, I scanned the thick layer of dust that covered the interior, choking on a few hours' worth of stale air. I finally tried to sit up when I noticed it. I sat straight, leaning closer. Two sets of what looked like human eyes sat neatly on the dash, viscera still attached, like they had been pulled out and placed there. I didn't even have time to inspect the body splattered across the inside of the windshield before my gut set me flying out the door, retching uncontrollably. Then I froze, remembering yesterday's events, or was it yesterday? I wasn't sure. The forest was deadly quiet again, no sign of whatever had made those awful noises. The same, almost artificial light streamed through the thick woods, as though hardly a moment had passed since then. My pack was still on the ground where I had left it falling down, and I checked the radio. I tried every channel I could looking for Eric or, well, anyone at that point. But all I found was that the battery was low. But how? I had grabbed the radio off the charger back at the station before I came up here. How long had I been out for? The battery should have lasted for weeks, if not months. I regained my composure and checked for keys. My heart leapt as I heard them jingle in the ignition, but immediately sank when I turned it over. Apart from the keys themselves, I didn't hear a sound. The car was dead. I'd have to walk out of here, wherever here was. I tried the GPS again, and did my best to follow where I thought the main road should have been. But it wasn't. I saved the location of the car, and hoped I'd be able to bring back law enforcement to collect the evidence of what could only be a crime scene. Little did I know, that was nothing compared to what laid in store. I'd trudged on, racked by hunger and with a dwindling supply of water. I hadn't packed any food since the plan was to be back the same day. According to the GPS, I was supposed to be well within familiar territory by now, and not too far from the station, but everything around me was no more familiar than if I would have been dropped onto an undiscovered continent. Fluorescent mold, carpeted patches of the earth, like blood spatter under a black light. Everything around looked to be in the state of death and decay, yet alive and pulsating with a synchrony that made me wonder if it was just my head or the earth itself. No matter how far I walked, I never saw or heard a single living thing nor any sign of a trail or pathway. I made a beeline for the station, but never seemed to get any closer. All the while, there was that growing sense gnawing at the edges of my consciousness that someone or something was watching me. Strange marks and patterns were etched, no, burned into the trees, symbols that defied all understanding, yet alluded to hidden meanings. I tried the focus, I had to keep going somehow. Something terrible had happened to those hikers, and one way or another, I had to get... splat. I staggered and lost my balance on something slippery and wet as a vicious mass hit me in the head from above, toppling me to the ground. Dazed, I raised my hand to my face and gagged, seeing the foul mucus that now coated it in a thick layer. More the same ran down my face and back, and I struggled to wipe it from my eyes. I reached out to steady myself against a tree so I could stand, or rather, what I thought was a tree. What should have been rough bark of some variety instead had a fleshy texture that gave way under my grasp. I jumped up, startled, when a cacophony of groans seemed to emanate from it in a crescendo. I pulled my hand away to see deep red rivulets mixed with the mystery goo. Coming back instinctively, I saw where it was all coming from. This tree was more like a profane amalgamation of what looked like human body parts, twisted and smashed together into something like a tree. Arms, legs, torsos, even heads with mouths agape that were likely the source of the haunting sounds. The disgusting mass seemed to recoil in kind, sending even more of the mucus oozing off its branches and down the trunk I had just been leaning on. I stumbled over a small square object that slapped wet against the mossy fleshy surface of the ground and contrasted with its fluorescence. A wallet? I bent down to pick it up and could just make out the name of the ID inside. It belonged to one of the missing hikers. I choked down bile as the implications sent my stomach heaving all over again. In my state of shock, only one thought kept running through my mind. I've got to get out of here. Oisting my pack higher towards my shoulders, I grabbed the straps and started running. I don't know where to or even how long I could keep it up, but everything I was seen, would I could process of it anyways, told me I had to. Miscellaneous belongings were scattered all around, backpacks, sleeping bags, tents, old cameras, trash, food, even a steering wheel and a tire. All in various stages of decay littered my path as I ducked and dodged unimaginable whores like the tree that wasn't a tree. Pools of blood-red liquid, creeping, writhing viscera, bushes of blinking eyes and shrubs composed of what appeared to be antlers, fur and rotting meat greeted me at every turn. The pain in my chest grew harder to ignore with each step, and my pounding head sapped any strength I may have had. My pack grew heavier and I slowed. I eventually collapsed to the ground and surrendered as the load slid off, thudding on to the ground behind me. The forest floor felt warm and inviting against my face as it sunk in like a pillow. The cadence of its haphazardly fluorescent covering seemed to hold my body in place as I willed it to move. The harder I tried, the faster my strength seemed the drain from me and waves of drowsy oblivion. The relief I felt when my headache began to subside was so sublime, I almost gave in for sheer gratitude in that moment. But then I heard it. That same horrible shrill roar jolted me to my senses, familiarity triggering my adrenaline. A second closer this time sent me sprawling to my hands and knees. I clawed desperately at the ground, too skittish to take my chances with my surroundings again. By the time the third rang out and picked up its cadence, I made it to my feet, running as fast as I could. I didn't stop to think about the pack or the fact I was fleeing my only source of supplies. I didn't think about my burning legs or even the throbbing ache that returned to my head as I sucked in ragged breaths. I just ran for my life. I fled that godawful noise with everything I had left in me and yet it seemed to grow closer and closer just like the first time I heard it. There was nowhere to turn, no path or car or anything I dare try to hide in. There forced me forward, hopping over and around monstrosities that barely registered at this point. Just when the house reached their deafening zenith and the eyes I could swear were boring into the back of my skull told me it's over. I turned to look at my pursuer. Maybe it was a reflex I could no longer stifle. Perhaps I instinctively turned to fight when I thought I was going to die. Crash Before I had a chance to find out, I found myself tumbling head over heels as blinding lights spun into green grass, over and over in the field of view. I landed flat on my back, knocking the wind out of myself as I stared up at the most beautiful blue sky I had ever seen. I laid there stunned, afraid the move, afraid the think. The eerie, grim silence was replaced by birds singing from the treeline. The wind gently swept through the green grass at the bottom of the hill where I had ended up somehow, where insects chirped and hummed. I rolled to my side, searching frantically for whatever had been chasing me. I looked all around, but just like the last time, whatever it was had suddenly vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The immediate thread apparently gone, my body rudely reminded me of its condition. I hurt everywhere, and something was wrong with my skin, besides minor cuts and bruises. It was... different. Dried. Almost leathery, cracked, and looser in places it shouldn't be. I felt more than exhausted, drained. Though my usual headache had dulled for the most part, I still struggled to get to my feet. When I studied myself enough to notice the ranger station in the distance, I couldn't have jumped for joy if I had wanted to. All I could do was start walking. Slowly, painfully, but determined to get to safety at last. I looked behind me where I had crash landed from, but it might as well have been the moon. From where I stood, there was no sign of anything like what I had just gone through for what seemed like a day or so. Were it not for the intensity of my hunger and thirst, or the dried goop still stuck to my tattered uniform? I could have doubted it myself. All I knew for certain was that I could see the ranger station up ahead. But hope turned the rage when I saw Eric's truck parked out front. He had left me there. What else could it mean? To think he didn't even bother to stay and look for me? That had to be the reason I didn't find the truck or any sign of him when I came back. But why hadn't he answered me on the radio? Was this some kind of sick joke? I threw open the door to see Eric sat at his desk, mount the jar, and colored draining from his face. What the? Oh god. Oh my god. Jim. Is that you? No. Where? Eric stammered, visibly shaken as he stood from his chair. He met me across the floor tentatively, like he wasn't too sure whether I was a ghost. I wound up the punchums square in the mouth, but only succeeded in knocking myself off balance as my useless body crashed again in a heap. The awkward lead clutched my arms to arrest my collapse, hosting me into the chair beside me. All right, all right, hey, easy now, Jim. It's me. It's Eric. I know damn well who it is. I shot back. You, you left me. Jim, I just take it easy. You've been through a lot, clearly. Are you well hurt? Eric asked reassuringly. Am I hurt? I chuckled with mockery. Am I hurt? Well, let's see. First, there was the fact that you never answered me on the radio after you reminded me to keep it on for exactly that purpose, or even came looking for me when I wandered around with no food and barely any water for hours, maybe even a couple of days. I don't know. No, you just hopped in the truck and ditched me there because there was so many important things to do sitting around here. I raged, gesticulating Lee as wild as my frail frame would allow Jim buddy here, Eric and erupted himself, handing me a bottle of water. My pride couldn't hide the desperation. My hands shaking uncontrollably, raising the bottle to my lips. I gulped greedly mouthfuls as he continued trying to hide the look of pity and disgust on his face. I could call an ambulance, but they're going to take a couple of hours to get up here. Let me at least drive you to the visitor's center before they close. That way you could get checked out at the clinic and wait there. No, I spat between gaps. I don't need your help anymore. I quit. And I'm suing you in this whole damn place. You left me there to die. Now Jim just calmed down. Please, really. Eric pleaded, handing me some jerky and trail mix from the cabinet. When you didn't come back before dark, I called it in and set off searching for you myself for hours. We scoured the woods for days and even nights. Honestly, did you really think I would just abandon you like that? Yeah, right, I retorted, though food and water had settled my anger considerably. There's no way in hell you did all that before I walked back here on my own. Line just makes it worse. Jim, Eric protested. I'm not saying I don't believe you, but are you sure you're remembering right? I scuffed. Don't try to turn this around on me, you crazy bastard. It's too late. I survived. I'm back. Jim, Eric said again, "You've been missing for three weeks. A little over, actually." "That's impossible," I shouted, and tried to raise myself from my chair, some strength finally returning. "But Eric cut me off." "My friend," Eric said, "how long have we've known each other? How many years? Do you really think I would do this to you? For what? Come on now. You're probably delirious after what you had been through." I muttered under my breath, readying another salvo, but he continued, "Sign." "Look, if you don't want to go to the hospital right now, we could talk it out, but you need the rest at least. Eat and drink some. I'm sure you know that as well as I do." "I don't need no damn wet nurse," I said. "You have no idea what's out there, what I've seen. People are in danger. I found the car, Eric." "Oh god, their car, their eyes. We gotta, we gotta have to do something." "Jim, please," Eric said. "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. It'll be dark soon. I'll put a fire on. You could help yourself to some more food and water and tell me all about it. Then, you'll let me drive you to the visitor center. From there, you could decide if you're okay to drive home or to a doctor." I resented being treated like some kid who got sick at school, but I reluctantly agreed, convinced by my aching exhaustion. As he sat about lighting the stove, I spilled everything, getting lost, calling him on the radio, finding the car, being chased by that howling monstrous creature. I left out most of what I could remember about trees made from missing campers or shrubs from unfortunate wildlife. I skipped over the inescapable feeling that whatever that place was, it was something unnatural, profane. Eric doubted my mental and physical health as it is, and I was in no mood to take a trip to the hospital on a ranger's salary. I focused on the timeline, certain there was no way I could have been gone, let alone survived out there for three weeks. I showed Eric the spot saved on the GPS where I'd found the car, and he agreed to go take a look at it the next day, but he sounded more noncommittal than what I anticipated, having told him about the body parts on the dash. I finally stood to stretch my legs, and thought about heading over to the couch for the night instead of going back out into the frosty autumn evening, when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. I rubbed my face, wondering if the sagging, grayed visage before me was some injury, or a cruel trick of the light. "Hey, where are you going?" Eric asked, surprised to see me hurrying to the washroom. "Wait a minute, Jim!" He called after me as I reached the mirror. An involuntary cry of terror and disbelief escaped me. My face, my body, all of me looked so much older. Middle-aged as I was, I was used to seeing a few new grays or the occasional wrinkle appear overnight, but this was different. It looked like I had spent a decade or more out there since I'd last seen myself, patches of fine, gray wisps tumbled down to my shoulders, and a scraggly beard of the same hue covered my face. My eyes sagged, and the skin around my chin and neck hung loosely from my skull. I just stood there, rubbing, tugging, and scratching at this stranger in the mirror, muttering incoherently. "I'm sorry, Jim, I'm so sorry," Eric said, standing in the doorway. This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't know, I swear to you, I didn't know. I stared silently at the face and the mirror. Eric's voice sounded distant and incoherent, too dissociated from whatever reality I was trapped in at that moment to be understood. I think I mumbled, interrupting the monologue. "I think I should go to the hospital." "Uh, yeah," Eric stuttered with relief. "Yeah, Jim, that's a good idea, let's do that." I barely registered the crisp, night air greeting me as I stepped out from the warmth of the cabin, but it did seem to restore some of my faculties as I climbed into the truck. "Shotgun, I barked with the rye grin," Eric chuckled nervously. "Of course." We sat in silence for a bit, the moonless night offering no assistance to the headlights blazing a trail down the mountain. My chauffeur winced when I finally spoke. "So, how long have you known about this?" I stared across the cab, watching him rub the back of his neck. Like it was a magic lamp with the answer he was looking for. "No more BS, just tell me what you know." "Well, it's like I was saying," he began. "I had always heard stories, but this was back then, you know?" I was just starting out, before I even thought about running things around here. The guy who was at the time, I forget his name. He was the one telling them, swore he saw things out in the woods. Things that shouldn't be there. No litter or abandoned pets, but something. "I know," I interjected flatly. "Who else knows? How long?" "Jesse, Frank, Lisa?" "No, nothing like that," Eric insisted. It was just stories, and it was before even your time with us. I told you, I didn't know anything like that was really out there. How could I?" I scuffed. "Is my face just a story too?" Awkward silence resumed until the silhouette of the visitor's center emerged from the roadside. "Just dropped me at my truck," I said. I could drive myself. "Jim, come on," Eric said. I said I'm sorry. "It's not about that," I interrupted. I just need to clear my head. After some resistance, he relented, pulling into the parking lot. "I'll let the others know that you're in the hospital tomorrow when we regroup from the other stations." He called after me as I stepped out. I turned the face up. "Yep. I don't think I'm going to make it in, boss," I jabbed, closing the door. "Are you going to tell them what happened?" Eric glanced down, hesitating. "Uh, yeah. You rest up and you let me know how you're getting along. We could talk about disability insurance to hold you over the rest of the season if the doctor recommends that route. I don't think there's any reason to rush things." "People have to know," I responded. "They got to close the park, Eric, at least for a while. You know that, convince whoever you have to. Whatever's out there is beyond dangerous." "I'll handle it. You have my word," he assured me. Good night, Jim. With that, he turned and headed back in the direction of the park. Alone with my thoughts again, I wondered how my boss could manage to be so nonchalant about what happened. Even if he still didn't believe a word I said, there was no denying my impossibly physical state. And what about my coworkers? The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. By the time I made it to the hospital, I thought about continuing the rest of the way home. Whether I'd really be missing for days or weeks. I hadn't slept since passing out in the car that belonged to the missing hikers. My reason I shouldn't be driving alone at night, sleep deprived, and possibly injured or sick. In the end, I decided Eric wouldn't let me come back to work if I didn't get checked out, and I very well could need medical attention. At first, I was pleasantly surprised to see the deserted parking lot as I pulled in. Hopefully, it meant whoever was on call wouldn't take too long to have a look at me. And now, I still kick myself for not being at least a little suspicious, especially after everything I had been through. As I walked through the automatic doors, the sounds of my footsteps echoed through an empty room, breaking the eerie silence. It was late sure, but this was the only hospital for miles. How could I be the only visitor? The hallway stretched before me, lit only by the dim glow of flickering overhead lights. The linoleum floor was scuffed and worn, and the walls were lined with dull beige paint. The automatic doors slid shut behind me with a soft thud, trapping me in this eerie stillness. The place had a sterile and slightly antiseptic smell, but underneath it, there was a musty and stale odor that lingered. The scent of old books and neglect filled the air, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. It was dimly lit, with only a few flickering lights illuminating the path ahead. A flash of movement at the end of the hallway caught my attention, and I made my way towards it. As I got closer, I saw a figure hunched over a desk, scribbling something furiously. "Excuse me?" I called out. My voice echoing in the empty space. The figure looked up, startled, and I saw that it was a woman, her hair in a messy bun, and her glasses sliding down her nose. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," I said, making my way over to her. I was just wondering if there's anyone here who could check me out. I think I might be sick or, um, injured. The woman looked me up and down, taking in my ragged appearance. "Take this and have a seat," she said finally. The gravel in her voice betrained what I assumed to be a prolific smoking habit. "Someone will be with you shortly." She handed me a clipboard and a pin that looked as worn out as the yellowed intake forms. "Thanks," I responded, sign. I knew I should have just gone home. I turned the survey a room of empty chairs. Their stale fabric is scented by an aged turquoise hue. "Do you know about how long it'll be?" I asked. "Where the hell is everyone?" She didn't even look up. "Sir, you need to have a seat and fill that out like everyone else. Someone will be with you shortly." "Got it," I responded, rolling my eyes and motioning towards the empty waiting area, just like everyone else. I took the clipboard and pin and made my way to the chairs. As I sat down, I glanced over the form. It didn't take long for the lines to blur together as the throbbing behind my eyes returned with the vengeance. I swore under my breath. "Ma'am, I really don't feel well. Is there someone, anyone?" No response. I set the paperwork down and defeat, the distant scratching sound of the woman's furious scribbles continuing to be heard. As I waited, I felt my eyelids getting heavier. The exhaustion was finally catching up to me. I tried to fight it, but my body had other plans, and soon enough, I drifted off. I don't know how much time passed before I felt wads of paper periodically thudding against my face like an improvised alarm clock. "Rise and shine," another voice said. I opened my eyes to see my intake forms scattered around me on the floor and crumpled bits. I sat up, groggily rubbing my eyes and trying to make sense of what was happening. The woman from the front desk was nowhere in sight, and instead, I was met with the site of a tall, lanky man standing before me in a hospital gown. He had a mop of greasy salt and pepper hair to match his beard, and I couldn't tell if it was curly or just matted, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. "Who are you?" I asked, feeling a sense of unease wash over me. The man chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "Relax, buddy, I'm just here to check up on you. You look like you needed some help." I narrowed my eyes, feeling my pulse quickened. This didn't feel right, and I don't know what to do. "Listen, I appreciate the concern," I said, slowly getting to my feet. But unless your staff, I think I'll just head home. Wherever the receptionist went, she was apparently full of it. The man's expression changed, fear rising in his voice. "You mean, you've seen her?" "Yeah," I said. She checked me in, or at least she was going to until... Wait, wait, wait. The stranger interrupted, getting a little too close. "You mean to tell me you've seen the older women sitting there scrolling on a notepad?" He said, pointing at the desk. "Yes," I answered exasperated. "I don't know how old she was. I came in tonight, or was it last night by now. Anyways, she was the only one here for some reason, so I asked her to see a doctor, and she told me, "She, she spoke to you?" My pursuer interjected again as I headed for the doors. "Yep," I replied, picking up my pace. "I assume that's, you know, her job?" She asked me to fill out those forms you so kindly trashed. "Ah," he stopped. "You must be something special," he said, giggling in a way that convinced me I was making the right decision. "You've seen it, haven't you?" He called after me. I stopped. "You've been there before, I should say." "The hell did you say?" I asked, turning. "You know," he answered, scurrying over. "I don't know much," I retorted. "But I know you're creeping me out. Look, I can't deal with this right now. I just need to go home and get some rest." "Rest?" he snickered. "You won't be resting any time soon, my friend. Not when you've seen what you've seen." As he moved close again, too close, I could smell the stench of alcohol and decay on his breath. The situation was getting out of hand, and I needed to get out of here fast. I tried to push past him, but he grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip tightening. "You need to tell me everything," he demanded, his voice growing more and more frantic. "What did you see? Did you see it? How did you get away?" My mind raced with far more questions than answers. I had no idea what he was talking about, and I didn't want to stick around to find out. I mustered all of my strength and shoved him away, stumbling back towards the glass doors. "I don't know," I yelled, "and I don't want to know, I just want to leave." He let out a guttural laugh, his eyes glinting with madness. "You can't leave," he said, his voice low and ominous. No one can leave. Haven't you realized that yet? I backed away from him, my heart racing. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice trembling. "You work for the park, too, don't you?" He asked gleefully. I knew it. I tried to tell them, to warn everyone. "Look, pal," I said, regaining my composure. "I don't know who you are, but we both know you don't work for the park, now if you'll excuse me." I turned again and headed for the doors. I could see it was still dark out as I neared the exit, and I braced myself for the evening chill. As irritated as I was at having wasted so much time sitting there, I was by now relieved to be going home, finally. But as I stepped across the threshold, automatic doors, worrying aside, I found myself face-to-face with the stranger again. The waiting room and reception spread before me at the end of the hall, where an empty parking lot should have been. I rolled around and saw another long hallway, another waiting room and reception desk dimly illuminated at the end. "Told you, nobody leaves." He said, grinning ear to ear. "You son of a bitch," I seethed, lunging closer and grabbing a hold of my tormentor by the scruff of his filthy garb. He burst out crackling, the stench knocking me back. "I'm not your enemy, pal, excepting that is your only shot at getting out of here." I let go of his gown, jabbing my fingers in his face. "I don't know who you are or what you are," I said. Just a few mean. "But you've got five seconds to start making sense before I put you through the plate glass and make myself a door." "I'm not in control of anything here," he retorted, "any more than you were in those woods. But I'm willing the bet since you made it out, you and I might have something in common." "Who are you?" I asked, hesitating. Then Hoskins, National Forest Service, he said, extending a hand. "How long has it been out there, I mean?" Outside, I said quizzically, shaking his hand. "Name's Jim." "Well, Jim, nice to meet you," Ned smiled warmly. His discolored teeth seemed more pitiful than threatening now. "Yes, outside, at the park." "I gotta say, you are the second luckiest, unlucky bastard I have ever met, here or anywhere. If we could get you out of here and back there, you might just take top spot from me." "I don't know what the hell any of that is supposed to mean," I scuffed. "But yeah, the park is open, it's peak season right now," Ned shook his head. "You know how it is here, I can't tell you the last time I've seen the sun. I get hungry and thirsty. I move around to find substance where I can, and I sleep, I wake up, over and over. But if it weren't for that, I could hardly tell time passes at all." "Yeah," I said reluctantly. "You were saying you could get me out of here, right?" "If I could get out of here, I would have by now, Jim. That much I could tell you for certain." The despair in his eyes seemed genuine, but it wasn't the answer I needed. "Alright, guess I'll have to make myself a door," I declared, moving in to hoist him up one last time. "You think I haven't already tried that?" Ned replied, shoving me aside. "You think I haven't thrown myself, and anything else I could lift through those floor to ceiling windows over there before? To escape to end it all, or just to see what happens? Go right ahead and do it. You can't do any worse than this." He yanked open the hole in the side of his tattered hospital gown, and showed me a jagged scar extending from under his arm on down, nearly to his torso. "However tough you think you are, you can't launch me at any wall here that I haven't tried harder myself." I frowned, scanning the room, searching for any other exit. Nothing. As far as I could tell, the core door is leaning out only led to more the same. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could utter a word, Ned continued. I just transferred in from another park not too long before the headaches started. I didn't think anything of it at first, let alone whether there was any connection to the strange disappearances, not too many more than typical, I would say, but enough to make you wonder. As new management, I just wanted to give a good impression to the team, and not make too many waves, but eventually, y'know, he trailed off. It all feels so long ago now. The first time it found me out there, I didn't even realize what was happening until I made it out. I kept thinking I was just imagining it, or that maybe I was losing my mind, but I could always feel this, this pull, calling back to me. I'm not sure I follow, I ventured. This, Ned cried. I stared at him for a moment, resigning myself. I sauntered back to the nearest chair, and crashed down in a heap, heaving a sigh. I'm trying to keep it together here, I said finally, lifting my head from my hands. What do y'know about all this? You said you worked for the park? I've worked there for years, never seen you before in my life. Eric's never mentioned you either, and he's... What did you just say? Ned practically leapt to my side with startling agility for a man in his condition. "Eric?" he stuttered. Not Eric Mathis. "Yeah, that's him," I replied casually. Worked with him for years, decent job, nice guy. Except for lately when he ditched me in the woods looking for some hikers. That's how I got stuck with that other place. "Oh," Ned staggered back. "Oh, no." "What?" I demanded, glancing around nervously. Ned laughed, settling into the seat across from me. "You're screwed, my friend." "You mentioned that," I shot back annoyed, "and I'm not your friend." "Suit yourself," he replied, smiling, "but your other friend, Eric, you, you don't really know what he is, do you?" "Of course I do," I shrugged. I just told you, and if he really worked at the park, he would have at least mentioned you to me. He's been running the place for as long as I've been there. I watched the color drain from Ned's face and response, "That son of a bitch," he muttered shaking. "I'd take it you too, didn't get along then," I snarred. Ned heaved alongside. "I've been stuck here too long. That little bastard really went and turned the whole park into--into--into what?" I asked. All of a sudden, Ned jumped to his feet. His agility, once again, given me a more manic vibe than I was comfortable with. "Shift change," he said in a low, terrified voice. "Huh?" I groaned in resignation. "Let's get out of here, now," he replied frantically. Before I could even stand, he sprinted down the hall. It took every ounce of strength I had left to catch up with him. "Hold up," I said as we zoomed past opening doors and the occasional window into adjacent rooms, spiking my adrenaline as I reached Ned's side. I arrived at an explanation of sorts, though only in the sense that scenes of writhing human bodies told me I needed to follow his advice. In contrast to the eerie silence of the hallway, a cacophony of screams seemed to fade in and out like an old TV signal as glimpses of incomprehensible amalgamations of human form confirmed their source. A seemingly endless row of rooms, large and small, scrolled past us like a live medical horror show. The doors were heavy and metal, their surfaces stained with rust and bloody handprints. Through the small windows I caught glimpses of stainless steel tables, sharp surgical tools and twisted forms of human bodies. The air was thick with a stench of death, blood and decay. My nostrils burned as I tried to catch my breath between gasps and the smell only grew stronger. "There," Ned hissed, gesturing towards a stairwell exit. I followed him as he crashed through the door and downed flights of stairs. At each one, he tugged on the door without success. Finally, we settled on the landing, huffing and puffing. "What the hell?" I heaved. Not yet, he answered, reaching out again for the door. This time it gave way, and we slipped inside, rushing the closet behind us. My guide's head was on a swivel, wide-eyed. But by all indications, the scene before us wasn't unlike what I found when I arrived. The both of us heaved to sigh a relief as we caught our breath. "So," I said finally, "Any chance you're going to make sense of any of this?" "You've made it this far," Ned answered. "Walk with me. I think I have something that will interest you." Let me wonder if I should make a break for it, but the rest of me couldn't come up with the destination. I've followed him down the hallway past two or three of the same desks and waiting areas. Until he stopped at what looked like a supply closet in one of the corridors. Opening it, he disappeared inside, leaving me standing in the hall and wondering whether or not any of this was worth it. I heard some shuffling and a scrapping sound in the dark before a match lit up the area. "Come on," Ned beckoned towards an opening in the back wall. This is the place to be when this place starts acting up. Trust me, wandering around out there is the last thing you want to do. By this point, I could barely stand. My head was spinning, and a dull pain was beginning the spring behind my eyes. I don't know how long it's been since I had eaten properly or slept through the night. Any place to rest was better than the alternative. I followed Ned into the hidden room, my eyes adjusting to the dim ethereal light that seemed to come from nowhere, just like what I had experienced in the woods. It was cramped and musty, but it seemed to have a fair amount of food and water stashed away. Ned lit a candle while I collapsed into a heap in the corner. "Home, sweet home," Ned sighed with satisfaction, closing the closet door and moving some boxes in front of the hole in the wall while I collapsed onto a pile of blankets in the corner. "Thanks for sharing," I murmured. "No trouble at all," my host grinned. "You know how it is around here. Whenever you start hearing those god-awful screams coming from Eric's victims, it's time to get going." "I'm not saying I know much about it, but I've noticed things get hairy whenever that receptionist you saw migrates from one floor to another, so I just call it a shift change." Things don't always work that way, mind you, but seen as how you showed up, it must hunger for you something terrible. "It?" I asked. "Yeah," Ned replied. "It." When I was still running things at the park, Eric was just a snot-nosed trainee, always acting like he had something to prove from the get-go, trying to tell me and the other Rangers what's what all the time, even when he didn't know what he was talking about. That's when this whole mess started. Still, it never occurred to me he was connected until it was too late. "What do you mean, his victims?" I interrupted. "Those people and the missing people in the woods?" "Correct," Ned continued. "I can't say for sure whether Eric lured every missing hiker, every lost camper to their doom the way he did, you and I, but I could tell you right now he's a sick, twisted man who's responsible for what you saw up there." "Learn me," I raised an eyebrow. "Nah, he has crews out there looking for me for weeks. He told me himself, 'I mean, if the goal was to make me like them, why send me here on my own?'" "I don't know you," he interjected, "and I don't know your story. But based on my experience with your friend, let me ask you which version makes more sense. That your boss, the guy who's been managing things for as long as you've been there, had no idea a cancerous malevolent spawned by an ancient evil existed right under his nose, found out only after you went missing and survived, dismissed your concerns, and just so happened to send you right back into it, here at the hospital, all by accident. Or could it be that your friend isn't who he says he is? That he's an evil mega-Lomaniac who lures a bunch of us out into the woods like sacrificial animals to trade for his own purposes. After he failed the seal my fate, unlike the others, he doubled down, insisting I spread the rod like a sickness to the nearest hospital under the auspice of getting me treatment. I stared at him for a moment. I drove myself here, was all I could muster. "Then you are unlucky twice over," he chuckled, "I don't know why some people, people like us, I suppose, come across it and live to tell the story. Maybe it's dumb luck, ironically. But now that I've met you, I'm more certain than ever it can't be. I'm telling you this because if there's any chance to make it out of here, you're the only one who could stop him. Stop all of this," Ned implored, motioning towards the door. For a while I didn't say anything at all, partly due to exhaustion, partly because I was even more unsure of Ned's mental stability. After all, who knows how long he had been trapped in this place. It would have been more than enough to make anyone lose it. Still though, I couldn't help myself. If there was any way for me to get out, I had to know more. What does the park have to do with this hospital?" I asked. "What does anything Eric is doing to the park have to do with you getting stuck here?" "Well, like I said, I think I might have something that interests you." He replied, pulling a tattered notebook out of a box. It was worn and frayed with years of use, the cover wrinkled and faded. As he held it out to me, the pages shifted and threatened to fall out. The musty smell of the old paper and mildew made me wonder if I could stand to be interested in it to begin with. "All guests work, of course," he shrugged, "but I've had nothing to do but think about how I got here and how to get out. If there's a way, I've tried. But it might give you some of the answers you're looking for. The place wasn't like this when I got here, and I can't recall now when things began the change. I checked myself in, same as you did, spent a couple of days being evaluated after everything it does to you. He pointed at his face and I shuttered, remembering the first time I had seen myself in the mirror since finding my way back. Then at some point, time starts to blur together, and before I knew it, I couldn't leave. Things have only gotten worse ever since. "My God," I responded, "so this decay, it spreads from place to place?" I asked, hardly believe in the words coming out of my mouth. "That's the best way I could describe it, yeah," he nodded. "Even if you manage to escape, you should be careful where you spend your time. I think once you've been touched, so to speak, it stays with you. I've only seen the entity at the center of all this when Eric insisted that we should all head out there into the woods together looking for the missing people. People to describe, the body of a man, the head of a dog or maybe a goat. I remember hoofs, sharp teeth, fur, something like a twisted avatar of nature itself. I couldn't get a good look at it before I passed out from these splitting headaches you get. By the time I came to, the creature was gone and Eric had found me. Even after he drove me here to the hospital and for a good while longer, I still thought he had saved me. You showing up just confirms my suspicions. He must be feeding it. This monster of yours? I ventured. It eats people and the people I found in the woods, the people upstairs, what about them? That's not what I mean, Ned paused. I mean to say, the madness of the void rots more than the mind and body. The world around us too. Out of this thing, camped out in the woods as spreading it somehow, feeding off of it. That doesn't make any sense, I sighed. But I'm sorry you've been stuck here for so long, I can't even imagine. He shrugged. There isn't much happening to either of us that makes any sense. Hopefully imagining it is the worst you'll experience. Like that, my bizarre new acquaintance simply turned and laid down the sleep without another word. I stifled a chuckle and looked down at the tattered notebook. My mind erased and yet I was near passing out myself. I'd yet to learn anything that might help me escape. Part of me was screaming to get back out there and find a way out before Ned woke up and decided I was the one behind his predicament after all. But physically, I couldn't resist the urge to sleep much longer. I decided to compromise and take a look at the notebook. It was filled with scrawled text and drawings, some of which were so faded and smudged that I couldn't make out what they were. But as I read on, I began the piece together a picture consistent to what he described. Moreover, the similarities between our experiences, the headaches, the disappearances, discovering this phenomenon in the woods, shook me to my core. And yet, still nothing about a way to escape it. Overwhelmed, I must have drifted off soon after, because the next thing I remember is opening my eyes to a large rat staring back at me, curiously. I'm not sure which was a more effective wake-up call, the unwelcome guest, or the realization that Ned was gone. Panic crept up my spine as I scanned the small space for any sign of where he went. The rat scurried away as I tossed aside the notebook and crawled out into the closet. I rose, stumbling as my legs shook my stiffened frame. I studied myself against the wall and took a few deep breaths. The door to the room was still closed, but I was suddenly struck with the feeling that I was not alone. "Ed?" I whispered, hoping he was just outside the door. There was no response. I took a step towards it, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn't ready for what greeted me, on the other side. Sunlight glinted off a sheet of aluminum that assented the ruin in front of me. I staggered back in shock, raising my hands to my face. "What the?" I muttered, trying to process the scene. I looked back to the hollow space behind the wall where I had eventually spent the night. But no amount of time could explain the difference between the hospital I slept in and the long abandoned ruin I was now standing in. I took a step forward, trying to grab the reality of the situation. The walls were warped and damp, in the air thick with the smell of rot and decay. Struggling to understand, I looked around, desperately trying to reorient myself from where I had been to the place I now found myself. It was as if a tornado had blown through the place without waking me. I continued onward reluctantly, realizing I was somehow on the ground floor. Nearing the rusted frame where the doors had been in disbelief, I hesitated, turning back for a moment, unsure of what I would find on the other side. But sure enough, I found myself reaching the shield my eyes from the sun that had peeked in through the holes in the collapsing upper floors. My truck sat innocently some distance away, tracks leading off into the woods. I turned back again, increasingly disoriented. When I was certain it had been the same hospital I casually strolled into not long ago, was now an unrecognizable ruin. Years of plant growth and decay devoured a structure that still stretched suspiciously high. I was almost as shocked as I had escaped poor Ned's eternal prison as I was this place hadn't collapsed on me, unsure how long I had been there. I wondered if I dare be grateful that at least there was no humanoid terrors beyond comprehension or strange shrieking monsters to worry about here. Still, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by it all, clinging just as desperately to the notion that I could still figure all this out and get my life back, so long as I kept moving. I made a B line for my truck, determined not to let my reservations trap me in this place a second longer than necessary. Still, I couldn't help but pause when I saw the sign it had obscured. Just beyond, defiant against the natural world determined to reclaim it was a name I could just make out. Ravenwood Hospital A glimmer of hope told me this proved I was not where I thought I was, because until that moment, I could have convinced anyone I was in Mountain View, somewhat fifteen miles from the park. The relief I felt when the engine roared to life was cut short when I realized I was, nevertheless, in the middle of nowhere. I had heard about Ravenwood, an asylum for the criminally insane, but it had closed down decades ago when the park expanded. No matter how exhausted or sick I may have been, there was no way I had driven all the way out here from the visitor center, not by accident, and never mind mistaking abandoned ruins for a hospital. I rolled forward, cautiously following the tire tracks that were my only way out. It was all I could focus on, aside from the suppressing the panic that crept up whenever they disappeared and reappeared like dots to connect. For what seemed like hours, I glanced nervously between the windshield and the fuel gauge, driving through and around an obstacle course of rugged terrain cross-cut by streams, rocky crags, an impassable forest. From what I could remember, Ravenwood shouldn't have been too far from the only road I could have taken this way from the visitor center. At that assumed, I was heading in anything resembling the right direction. By the time I saw the outline of an old ranger station on the horizon, I was running on fumes. I had no choice but to make my way there as soon as possible. The old cabin looked like it hadn't been used in years. The paint on the wooden exterior was so faded it was nearly gone. The door was hanging off its hinges, and I could see the nature's green reaching up from the earth to swallow the structure from all sides. The thought of spending time there was not exactly reassuring, but it was the only shelter for miles, and I had no way to be certain where I was. Finding Randy and John there when I pulled up had the use just about any luck I had left. They stared in bewilderment as I stepped out, and I did my best to smile and act as though nothing was a mess. If anything Ned told me about Eric was true, I had no way to know who else might be involved. "Hi there," I called out, hoping to convince them in spite of myself. "What are you doing all the way out here?" "I should be asking you the same thing," John replied, stepping off the ladder as Randy set down his shovel. I approached casually, shrugging my shoulders. "You know, the usual, Bob and Eric asked me to take a look at some dead areas we may need to clear, and I suppose I got a little turned around." The three of us approached, and I could see confusion and skepticism on their faces. "That's weird," Randy said. Just last week, Eric told us that you were on sick leave until further notice, said you were so sick, we shouldn't even try to contact you. "Yeah," John agreed. "You're back already? He never mentioned it." I broke their gaze nervously, caught off guard. If I had lost an entire week, there was no hope of hiding my condition for my workers. "Uh, yeah," I chuckled. "I guess so." Randy continued. "You don't look so good, no offense." "No worries," I sang, trying not to sound desperate. "I suppose this job really takes it out of me, but yeah, I'm back at it. What about you?" John hesitated. We hiked out, been doing some trail maintenance, and now we're fixing up this old cabin before the snow this winter makes it impossible. "Great," I smiled. "You mind if I lend a hand?" "I'm afraid I used up all my fuel just finding my way back here. I was looking for the main road end." Randy raised an eyebrow. "Jim, the main road is miles from here. Are you sure you're all right?" I shrugged, still trying to keep it together. "Yeah, never better, what gives?" "Okay," John interjected, diffusing the situation. "Sure, Jim, glad to have the help." He handed me an axe. "I was going to start gathering dry timber to restock the firewood, but you could go ahead and get a head start since you've already been out looking." "Sure, I'd be happy to," I smiled, reaching out. I racked my brain trying to think of where to go, what to do next, grateful I had managed to smooth things over. But I was sorely mistaken. Before I could take it, Randy snatched the axe from John's hand, spun it around and raised it over his head. The realization hit me too late, and I had hardly raised my hand and stepped back before he raised the back of the axe head down on my head. I flinched, but he managed to clip the side of my head, knocking me to the ground. I groaned and instinctively tried the stand. John shoved Randy back, berating him. "What the hell, Randy? Not like this!" "Screw you, John," Randy shot back, raising the axe again. John grabbed it, and tried to wrestle the murder weapon from his hands. You don't even know how he ended up here. He wasn't supposed to make it back. What exactly are we going to tell Eric if you kill him now? Randy didn't even get a chance to respond. I hurled myself at him, still somewhat dazed, desperate to put up a fight. John yanked the axe free as I crashed in the Randy, and the two of us tumbled to the ground, cursing and thrashing. I nearly had him pinned, and I thought about how much time I should spend beating on him before making a break for my truck. It was then that I felt something hard and heavy make contact with the back of my skull, sending sharp pain and nausea shooting through my body. I collapsed to my side in a fetal position, reaching back and felt warm liquid gushing from the open wound. I gagged as the world spun into darkness. When I came to, I couldn't move. My head was killing me, and not just because of the gas still oozing blood from the back of my head. I stifled my gut reflex, not wanting my nausea to draw attention. The cold draft blew in through gaps in the walls of the cabin, pricking my senses. I was lying on the floor in the corner, my hands and feet zip tied. Despite the disoriented state I was in, I could feel my heart rate quicken as I tried the focus on my surroundings. I could hear the wind howling, and the distance sound to water rushing over rocks from a nearby stream. My captors were still bickering over what to do with me. "We can't just leave him out here," John groaned. Eric was adamant that he had been chosen. "Then what's he doing here?" Randy asked. "You don't honestly believe that crap your boss drones on about, do you?" What part of the cosmic madness of true knowledge is so compelling. If Eric wants him gone so bad, let's just dump him. It'll be our secret, nobody else needs to know. "No," John insisted. This is the second time Jim's made it back somehow. He'll want to handle this personally, like he did with the old boss. Randy sighed. "Whatever. The guy's a nutcase, and for all I know, your friend Jim is too." This wasn't what I signed up for when my parole officer told me this place paid cash for a day's work. "Now you got me in the middle of nowhere on a three day hike talking about some ritual. I'm not going back to prison for whatever you and the rest have going on. Even if I wanted to get him back to Eric, I'm sure as hell not dragging him there on foot." "Max," John said, "you'll get your money. I got a hold of Eric on the sat phone. If he can convince the crew to fly him out here by helicopter, it won't be that long." My blood ran cold. It didn't sound like I had much time to get out of there somehow. But if I moved a muscle, I'd immediately give myself away. To make matters worse, I was fighting a losing battle with my bladder. I had one move, and I made it. "Hey you," I spat, trying to make the gravel and my voice sound determined. "The hell is your problem?" John stood up surprised. "Well, look at that, Randy. You managed not to kill him, yet." Randy scuffed. "Whatever, man. You're the one who put him down. What do we do now?" "Let me go," I answered. "Unless you want me to piss all over your floor. Just let me outside for a bit. I bet you boys like to watch anyways." The three of us argued for a minute before John marched over, exasperated, and yanked through the zip ties around my wrists with his pocket knife. "There," he grinned. "Hop on out. We'll give you some privacy. You got sixty seconds." I rolled my eyes, struggling to my feet. "Fine," I groaned. As I hobbled towards the door, Randy opened it for me, bowing sarcastically and motioning with his hand. "Enjoy," he giggled. I had half a mind to stomp on his toes as I hopped past. But he kicked my bound feet from under me, and I went sprawling helplessly into the dirt outside. The pair roared with laughter as I cussed and spat rolling around. So much for my escape plan. I sheepishly made my way to the farther corner of the cabin where I could lean for balance. My momentary relief was nearly interrupted by a distant chopping sound coming over the horizon. Time was not on my side. Bracing hard against the walls, I leapt into the air and threw my legs against a sharp edge along the corner, aiming for the gap where my plastic restraints bound them together. Time by one, the zip ties snapped, but not before I gave myself a few bruises. Still, before long, I was free. "What's all that racket, Jim?" I said 60 seconds. John called after me, stepping outside. It was now or never. Quickly gathering my strength, I ran around the side of the cabin at full tilt, determined to make it to my truck. I could hear John and Randy shouting as they ran after me. Their voices diverging as one of them no doubt tried to beat me there from the other side. I rounded the corner to the back where I'd parked. My head was still pounding, and all the commotion had got my blood pumping. I could feel wet, warm ooze making its way down my neck and back, but I couldn't let it slow me down. I could just make out the wide-eyed rage on John's face as he rounded the corner opposite me, and we both made a beeline for my truck. I was close enough to be confident I would reach it before my pursuer, and a spark of hope picked up my speed. But my hopes were dashed by the blur of grass and dirt. I tripped and went sprawling onto the ground, hard. I tried to jump up, but a sharp pain shot through my leg from my ankle, and sent me right back down. I then John caught up with me, huffing and puffing. I still struggled the stand, right up until his boot came crashing into my teeth. I lurched backward in voluntary, the taste of metallic nausea mixing with the sharp pain flooding my shocked senses. Landing hard on my back, I could do little more than raise my hands to shield myself as he loomed over me. You slippery son of a bitch, John shook his head, still panting. No more bathroom breaks for you. His words were nearly drowned out by the roar of the helicopter approaching the cabin from the other side. I couldn't see anything from where I was lying on the ground, but I knew Eric had arrived. "You're lucky. I can't be sure you'd survive another blow to the head," John seemed menacingly. I cried out and tried the turn and crawl away as he landed a few more blows, stomping down on my twisted ankle. Stay down, and this wall go much easier. He said, kicking me in the ribs. I gagged, my breath cut short with each thud. This is it, I thought. I laid there helpless, anticipating the final blow, but it never came. "Randy!" John bellowed. "Till Eric I got his buddy here around back." As pathetic as it sounds, I almost felt relieved to see my old friend appear after some time from the other side of the cabin. The whirling blades of the helicopter rising and fading as quickly as they had come. He broke into a trot, calling out, "Jim? What did you guys do to him, John? Jim, are you alright?" I laid there on the ground, silent as he approached. "Nothing that didn't need doing," John replied, "Unless you'd rather have him ruin your plans for a third time." "You fool," Eric raged, "the sacrifice must remain unblemished if it's to be accepted. Wasn't much of anything unblemished about him when he got here?" John insisted. "I don't know how, but you sure are lucky Randy and I were here when he did." "Do you forget what it is we're trying to accomplish here? How's your daughter's chemotherapy going, John? Didn't you say she's getting worse? That you would do anything?" Eric stared, daggers, as I watched all the fight leave John's eyes. "If you're going to kill him here, you might as well start planning two funerals," Eric continued. "Now help me get him on to the sled. I brought Sarah and Ron. I'll haul Jim out of here myself, and this time, you're all coming with me. If you're lucky, I'll let you do the honors when the time comes." "Now?" John protested. "It's nearly dark and it looks like you brought the snow with you. Whatever you're doing, you won't be getting through these woods." Eric chuckled. "Where we're going, it is as the Prophet said. Night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever." "Right," John hesitated. "I'll go get Randy." Eric offered some food and water, crudely stitching the gas on my head, while the others gathered for what looked to be a considerable undertaking. Whatever happened next, I was too injured to move much on my own, never mind escape. The snow was coming down in earnest by the time I was wrapped and tied to a sled, like a dying member of some expedition into the wilderness. John wasn't the only one having second thoughts, Randy refused to go. "I don't know what your problem is with Jim, and I don't want to know," he said flatly. "I don't care if I have to walk out of here myself, I'm not going with you, and I'm not going back the prison for whatever this is." He stood defiant, arms crossed. "Suit yourself," our de-arranged leader replied, "you can pick up your check from the office." Randy rolled his eyes, turned to head back to the cabin from where we had gathered. The wind began to pick up, moaning through the trees and filling the air with just enough fresh powder to give his exit a dramatic flare. Not a moment later, Eric turned, reaching in his pack, and pulled out a pistol. Before anyone could say a word, he fired. Three shots exploded through Randy's back, and he dropped like a rock into the red snow. The others stood in shock as motionless as I was, while Eric calmly stowed the murder weapon. Any other questions or concerns? He called out to the wind. Good. John, Sarah, and Ron quietly picked up the gear and followed a man who may easily have become their killer into the woods as he lugged me behind with a rope. No matter how long I stared at them, I couldn't figure out why they wouldn't jump him all at once, or at least make a break for it. What on earth could he hold over them? Surely, they didn't hate me enough to risk their lives butchering me in some psychotic charade. Before long, Eric's voice interrupted my thoughts. "So, Jim," he huffed, his words only somewhat audible over the grinding of my makeshift prison over the lightly covered forest floor. "I understand you went to the wrong hospital. I told you you should have taken my offer," he laughed, as if expecting a response. I didn't. He continued. "You know, old friend, that's a very special place. I wasn't even certain it existed until he told me about what had happened to you. But places like that only attract people like that, so you could believe me when I tell you what happened wasn't my plan. Not at first, anyways." It's thinner there. The veil between this life and the oblivion we all yearn for, and yearns for us. Places of death and suffering long forgotten. Some people, many people like us, the broken, the anguished, the despaired. They can cross it sometimes. After all, blessed are the meek for all they shall inherit the earth. Was Ned one of these meek-sols of yours? I interrupted, struggling to speak against the pain that cut through every breath. Is that why you trapped him in that place? Mark stopped in his tracks for a moment and glanced back at me. "Ah, so the bastard is still there." He crackled even harder. "You know what? I'm glad you too had a chance to catch up. You really are meant for this." "For what?" I asked weekly. "For what billions of people today and throughout history have sought after religiously," he answered. The sublime oblivion of absolute enlightenment. The formless void of infinity beyond the natural world, where mere existence breaks the mind under the cosmic way to truth. I probably should have anticipated it by now, but I immediately regretted asking. It went on like that for some time, and I tuned most of it out in silence. I heard enough to know Ned was right. I was to be offered up like some fresh meat to the nightmare I fought so hard to get away from, showing its relentless, inevitable devouring of the world as we know it. Somehow, this was supposed to confer a reprieve from its effects upon those willing to present someone else in their place. At least, that was Eric's version of the story I gleaned from all the gibberish. It was pitch black out, and everyone had mag lights on, determined to get wherever they were taking me. I'd assumed they would make camp at some point, but it never came. By the time I saw the first rays of a strange glow piercing through the trees, I assumed morning had come. I told myself the intense quiet was just an adjustment to the howling wind and snow that it ceased, but the uncanny weight of dread in my gut was matched only by the growing knowledge of the otherworldly landscape that had unfolded around me. For the first time, I fought as hard as I could, though helplessly against my restraints. I groaned and struggled through the pain radiating through my body. The intensity of my headache was reaching a fever pitch, and I knew all too well what it meant. My efforts barely interrupted my captor's monologues. Desperation became full-blown panic when the faded belongings of my ill-fated predecessors came in the view, scattered about. They paraded past my traps, gaze on all sides, a grim prelude to my fate. Shattered ribs intermingled my screams with choking, coughing, and sputtering as I involuntarily fought for air, for release, for freedom. The group came to a halt, and when I saw why, I nearly soiled myself. There it was. The tree that psychopath thought so highly of. The one I knew firsthand was no tree at all. It was even more massive than I remembered it, and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying anything to avoid seeing that monstrosity in detail a second time. The discordant moans of countless voices trapped in eternal agony grew in a crescendo, as if in anticipation. Mark looked gleeful in a maniac sort of way. He grinned wide-eyed with shaky hands that now struggled to untimey. Even then, it seemed he never tired of hearing himself talk, almost shouting over the hellish chorus. What would you trade for knowledge, Jim? Prometheus stole it from the gods. Odin plucked out one eye for it. Adam fortified his very soul. Because for me, well, I would burn the whole world and more. Some call it Odin's tree, others the tree alive, Nirvana. Can't you feel it? It hungers for those whose souls are prepared. Even a god hung himself here for a chance at what I'm giving you, and yet, you try to flee? But not this time, I will fulfill my oath once more and claim what is rightfully mine. I couldn't hear much of what he said after that, and I couldn't have understood much even if I did. I was nearly paralyzed by the pounding in my head. I struggled with everything left in me just to avoid passing out. At some point, Eric must have untied me, because I found myself rolling around on the strange ground. I remember the slimy sensation of the disgusting mucus oozing from the "tree" in places, fluorescent, pulsing mold of some kind and others. The voices had become so loud, so intense and all-encompassing. Their increasingly high-pitched, inhuman whale that reverberated through everything around could only be the same formless threat I had narrowly escaped from the first time I encountered it in this place. The sound resonated in a hum that seemed to come from everywhere. I frantically tried the roll to crawl, to ride, then flail away from that place at any cost. Through the blur of tears and with hands clapped together over my ears, I caught glimpses of the carnage. One moment I saw John smiling, no, giggling uncontrollably as he pranced around naked and covered in blood. He moved, to and from, dancing in his own intestines, he wrapped himself around like a string of blood-red pearls. The next, Ron and Sarah came in the view, each half butchered and fro licking to a beat of their own. Their faces appeared ecstatic to see the pack of beasts emerging from the woods around us. Even after it set upon them and began tearing all three to shreds. Humanoid yet canine in shape, their thick black fur was soon splattered with generous helpings of blood and viscera dripping from razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light. Amidst the chaos, Eric stood alone just out of reach, the same wild eyes psychotic grin on his face, as if the mass murder unfolded around us was the most wonderful surprise anyone could receive. My hands fell from my ears as I laid on the ground. I could feel the last of my strength and will leaving my body, as the familiar hum of the pulsating alien world washed away the steady drumbeat of agony in my skull. In that moment, I almost surrendered to the dreamy abyss trying to close my eyes forever. I stared at the man who had caused all this, who ruined my life and murdered so many people for some quest. He had been my friend, I trusted him, perhaps even more than the victims whose remains now littered the floor. I couldn't just let go, not until I had my revenge. Slowly, methodically, I raised myself up, one limb at a time. Eric was oblivious, lost in the ecstasy of the massacre he orchestrated. With each movement, I willed myself through the searing pain. Finally, I turned to face him, preparing my body for one last act. Mustering every ounce of rage and despair I had, I lit out a defiant cry, lunging at him when he was only half turned to face me. The two of us crashed into the broad, slime-covered flesh base of the tree. It was my would-be killers turned the scream and struggle, but his body was immobilized like vermin in a glue trap. Despite sinking in further myself, I grabbed my hands around his throat and squeezed as hard as I could. That was it. I had no hope of escape, but neither did my tormentors. A head-spinning mix of terror and triumph flooded my final moments. Though I can't remember if I had managed to kill Eric with my own hands before I passed out for good. When I awoke on the forest floor, I assumed I was dead, that I had finally crossed over into the formless void that had been my nightmares in life. However, I began to have my doubts when I effortlessly rose to my feet. As far as I could tell, my injuries had vanished without a trace, along with Eric and the rest. Were it not for the gear laying around nearby, I may have doubted my sanity and whether any of it really happened. There was no indication of the events that haunted my last memories, and I found his pistol in the bag where he had stashed it, along with the sat phone. It didn't take me long to reach someone at headquarters, though we spent more time trying to figure out where I was to send for help before the battery ran low. In the weeks that followed, I was subjected to a criminal investigation into the disappearances of the people who tried to kill me. The authorities were determined, and I'm not sure I wouldn't have been charged if they had been able to find Randy's body. Weeks of man hunts with crews scurried the park with no sign of him or anyone else, and the case eventually went cold for lack of evidence. I wish I could say my story ends here, that I defeated the evil and saved the world through grit, luck, and sheer commitment to my mission. But that would be a lie. My miraculous recovery feels more profound than even my previous narrow escapes. It's not just my wounds that disappeared, the aches, the pains, the wrinkles, the weakness and exhaustion, all gone. Constant headaches were replaced with vivid nightmares of the tree that isn't a tree, and strange voices murmuring in a language I can't quite understand. I feel more alive than ever, but at a cost. I could feel its pull through my dreams, its rhythm beckoning like a heartbeat. Eric was a bastard, but I think I know what I have to do. I guess that's why I've shared all this. So if you ever find yourself in my position, you will too. I'm a park ranger. I patrol the National Forests of Kentucky. Today I was called on to the scene, a valley deep outside public trails barely touched. Helicopter thought they saw an unmarked camp, so they sent me out on the ground. The scene was a bloodbath, streaks of it all over the ground. The bears started swarming soon after. This was recent. Looking around, I eventually found a notebook. Blood splatter all over, but still legible. I read the last entry as I walked around the camp. I have edited out some of the random assides and drug use, but I can't keep this inside anymore. I need someone to know. December 13th. I was in between houses. I guess that's a good way to put it. The job market had dried up in my little town, and when you're three months late on rent, you could understand why the landlord decided to show you the door. I never thought backpacking would be the answer, and I suppose it really isn't in the dead of winter, but here I was. All my remaining possessions were on my back, and the National Forests seemed as good a place as any to try and settle down. Upon the side of a mountain, through an untouched forest, and fifteen miles later, I found myself in a clearing. The ring of trees circled the valley, a small lake nestled in the middle. I thought this was it. I set up my home base, and threw a few lines out. A few trout obliged my hooks, and with that I had enough for the night. That night the fire warmed my soul just enough, and the fire roasted fish filled my stomach. At this point of my life, it's the best I could have asked for. December 18th. Then I saw the shadow. I first saw him a few days ago, breaking through the edge of the forest beyond the lake. The dark figure just stood. I waved, expecting it to be another camper in a situation like mine, but it never moved. The corners of my vision have been failing me for many years, so I suspected it was a trick of the light. Whenever I wandered over there, it was gone. I'm in my 50s, so I didn't think much of it. Maybe my body was taking much longer to adjust to the mountain air. December 20th. He showed up at my camp. I was starting my fire for the day, and as the embers grew to ablaze, I saw him sitting across from me. I thought he might be trying to say hello, but the complete and utter stillness this thing had was unnerving. I yelled at him to get out of here, and he was gone. Whether I was insane in the mountain air, or something more sinister was afoot, I was never a strong believer in the supernatural after all. The next day, I made my trek around the lake and through the woods, following the shadowman. No sign of him. I walked into the brush, cracking my way through a dense mesh of brier, or something close to it. I pushed through until I reached another high clearing. Something felt wrong though. The trees stopped growing, almost in a perfect circle, and in the center, the door. It wasn't a house door, closer to the wrought iron sides of a tank, shrouded in a deep layer of concrete, but poking out amongst the dead foliage surrounding it. I felt something, a twing. My breathing had become long and wet. I chalked it up to the hike. I probably hit some allergen on the way up. A breeze washed through the valley, and I looked up at the door as it swung open, the shade sitting atop. That was it. I had to. I was into this, and I was going to see it through to the end. I shouldn't have gone down that hall. I don't know if it would have helped. December 21st. I checked out the hall, but it was dark. Long staircase went down into the earth, and it was pitch black. I hooked up a lantern after dinner. Today, I'm going in. December 22nd. I've been trying to use the light I have to explore down there. I haven't seen the shade, though I guess he wouldn't look like much of anything down there. Man, I should have reapplied sunscreen. I am burning up here. I'll try to stay out of the sun today. Won't be much of a problem with that. I went deep, down spiked hallways like nothing I've ever seen. The signs are kind of eerie, with symbols and stuff between English. Basic, keep out stuff I would expect to see at any cattle ranch in town. December 23rd. I coughed up blood last night. I'm not feeling terrible, but I just have this terrible burn. I needed to go back, and I did. Further this time. I used a line hooked up to the door to lead me back, and I went all in. Nothing but dirt and more dirt. At the end of the hall, there's a little metal ball. I tried to touch it, but it was pretty hot. Must be one of those flukes. I'll come back tomorrow. December 24th. Christmas Eve, what a joke. God gave me nothing, and we expect to worship that? No, I'm going in again. Last night I woke up with excruciating pain in my hands. The skin had started the peel, and I saw bruising all over. This felt like more of a burn. December 25th. My body is decaying. I woke up again. Hell, I didn't sleep. I felt a pain in my right index finger. My hand. It just went on instinct. I grabbed my finger, and like a wet sock, the blood squelched and my fingernail laid in my hand, blood dripping from the wound. I wrapped it all up in a bandage. I don't think I feel pain after that. The way I see it, I'm dying regardless. I might as well get that thing while I'm at it. This is my last message. If you find this, leave. You don't want this. I ain't coming out of that cave. Learn from me. The final journal entry looked barely scrawled, pinned in a deep crimson tone. His blood had soaked through the last lines. He rode what was on the walls. I knew I shouldn't, but I have to. I walked to the clearing, up through the briars and saw it. The door was there. The shades sitting on top. It was real. Part of me thought the old man had gone crazy, but I saw the thing as clear as day, or as clear as a shadow can be. I walked into the room, down the hallway, and saw it. A pull of blood. No. It was a man. Bones stuck out, muscles fused, and the ungulating mass that used to be the man laid there, barely even human anymore. I turned my flashlight around, glanced at the page. The light had highlighted the pin ink under the blood. I read it, matching the text to the splattered English on the walls. This place is a message. Pay attention to it. Sending this message was important to us. We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture. This place is not a place of who are. No highly esteemed deed is commemorable here. Nothing valued in here. What is here is dangerous and repulsive. This is a message about danger. The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically. This place is best shunned and left uninhabited. Something struck me about those lines. I'd heard them somewhere before, but I can't put my finger on it. That changed, however, when I saw the symbol. The pinwheel, three prongs emanating from the center. I ran. By the time I got back to the car, I was already covered in blisters, my face feeling the most intense burn I'd ever felt. I've been around forest fires, and that didn't feel like anything compared to this. When I got in the town, I collapsed on the wheel. Doctors say I have a weak left. I know I'm not going to make it a day. Cancer. I don't know if this message is a goodbye, but I don't have the stomach to tie the rope. But I need to leave the world with something, anything. You don't need to explore these empty clearings of the mountains. They kill slow, but they kill all the same. [BLANK_AUDIO]