Short Stories of the Horror and Bizarre

Tag: Horror Page 1 of 3

Ran for Safety

Word Count: 12,515

Two agonizing weeks ago the second anniversary of the tragic loss of my loving husband passed, and I was struggling to do my best to maintain my composure around our two small children. My husband was only twenty-four years old, and I was only twenty-three when a man driving home from the bar drunk drove over the curb and ran down the man I loved as he was walking home from the store. I blamed myself every day for that accident, because it was me who asked him to go out that night to get me some ice cream and some salt and vinegar potato chips.  

I was almost eight months pregnant at the time and was experiencing strong cravings for chocolate and salt. My husband, being the loving and supportive man he was, did not hesitate to walk to the convenience store a few blocks away to get me what I wanted. Had I not sent him out so late that night to get junk food to fulfill my cravings, he would still be alive today.  

Slightly more than two years passed since I lost the man I loved so dearly. Our daughter, who never got to see her father’s face in person, was turning two in another month, and our son turned four years old a few months ago. Taking care of them on my own while trying to support us all financially turned out to be more than I could handle, so slightly less than a year after my husband’s passing, my children and I moved in with my mother.  

Only having one year left to finish my college degree, living with my mother and having her help me with my children, I was able to get back into class and complete my college education. Several weeks before graduation, I began sending resumes to every position for which I felt I had enough qualifications to afford me a good chance at getting the potential job. I graduated the same week my son turned four, and nearly two months passed before I finally received a call to set up a job interview. The only problem was it was almost an eight-hour drive from here.  

I was happy when the person from human resources who called said they would be willing to set up a video chat interview with me. That was such a relief, because I did not want to have to make that eight-hour drive to do my interview, and then turn around and drive back home again. I could not afford to get a hotel room, so I had no choice but to make the round trip if I were to have to go there for this meeting. If I got the job I would obviously have to move there, but until then I did not want to make such a long trip on my own.  

Dressing up in my nicest pantsuit, I sat down in front of the computer four days later ready for my interview. Although I anticipated the interview being a total disaster, it went surprisingly well. The man who interviewed me was the head of personnel for the hospital in a small town, or at least it was a small town compared to where we lived in the city. He was quite impressed with my education, at which I did exceedingly well, but was a bit disappointed with my lack of experience.  

By the time the hour-long interview was completed, the man offered me the job. This was not something I expected at all. I was sure it would be at least a week or two before I heard anything back on whether I got the job or not. They needed someone who could start within the week, and although I did not talk with my mother about it yet, I proceeded under the assumption that she would not mind watching her grandchildren for a short time as I went to secure a place to live. Trying not to show quite how excited I truly was, I told the man that I was happy to accept the job and would begin making arrangements immediately.  

While the pay for this new position was very good and would take care of me and my children very well, I was not given a housing allowance. I would have to go up there with what little I could muster together and find a small apartment or perhaps a motel room I could rent at a weekly rate. It was probably going to take me a minimum of a couple of months before I was able to get a large apartment or house large enough to bring my children back with me.  

The drive was quite mundane for the first hour after leaving home, but eventually I left the city and suburbs behind and entered the dense, green forests. It was nice being surrounded by nature rather than concrete, asphalt and endless rows of buildings. The vibrant greens of the treetops and the foliage lining the highway were a nice break from the ugliness the city had to offer. It being late spring, I saw large, scattered patches of wildflowers that added to the beauty of the drive.  

I was nearly an hour from my destination when I peaked a slight hill and could see the snowcapped mountains far in the distance. I could not believe this was going to be the view I had from the town in which I would be living. Never in my life did I ever expect to live in a rural area with such a spectacular view as this. There was no doubt in my mind that my children were going to love it out here.  

By the time I reached the small town in which I would now live and work, the towering mountains did not seem to grow much at all. Although we would have such an amazing view, we were still probably at least a two-hour drive to the foothills and another hour to the mountains. Regardless, it was going to be nice to be surrounded by trees instead of block after block of homes and businesses. 

My husband would have loved it here. He was an avid outdoorsman and loved to take trips away from the city, somewhere we could enjoy the peace and beauty nature had to offer. I began to cry at this thought, but I smiled at how proud my husband would be of me at this very moment. No matter how much time passed, I believed deep down he would always be with me. 

As I entered the small town, I could not help but chuckle when I saw the sign displaying the name of the town and the population. Less than eight thousand people called this small place home, although I was sure there was a fairly large population in the county surrounding it. I saw several ranches on my way into town, so I imagined there was a large agricultural community.  

The homes in town were better than I anticipated, and the residents appeared to take good care of the lawns. The first thing I did once I got to town was to find the hospital. I still did not begin working for another week, but I wanted to go ahead and make it the central point as I learned where everything else was.  

The hospital was larger than I expected for a community this size, but it was the only real hospital in a five-county area. A lot of people probably relied on this one facility for most of the medical care dispensed in the region, and that was more than likely why they needed someone who could start immediately. Staffing shortages were something they could not allow, being so far from any large urban center. There were probably county clinics available for regular doctor’s visits and such, but this was the only place where people could receive urgent care.  

Once I oriented myself with my new place of employment, I drove back to the main road to locate a motel where I could stay for the night. I rented the room for a weekly rate at one of the four motels in town. It was fortunate that I got such a great discount, because as it turned out I only needed to stay there for three days. I thought it would take me much longer to find an apartment, but the process took much less time than I thought.  

I found a small but nice one bedroom apartment only six residential blocks away from the hospital. Normally I would have to pass a credit check before I could secure a place to live, but after checking my employment status with the hospital, the manager of the apartment complex called me to tell me I was approved to move in the next day. This would give me two days to get moved in before I began working, but it was not like I had much to move. I had nothing more than what I could carry in my van.  

When I got to work, I found everyone to be very friendly and inviting. Once word got around that my apartment was furniture free with the exception of some lawn chairs, a couple of end tables and an air mattress, some of the other employees got together and collected some things for me. On my third day of work, a gentleman who worked in the labs by the name of Roger showed up at the end of my workday with a truckload of furniture. He and five others from the hospital drove me home and helped me carry everything up to my second story apartment.  

I could not thank them enough for everything they did to welcome me to their community. The furniture did not match, and some of it was a bit old, but now I was not going to have to start with nothing. Now I would be able to focus the money I would spend getting the basic furnishings for this apartment on securing a larger apartment, or perhaps even a house, so I could return to my mother’s to retrieve my children.  

Even though I was only separated from my little ones for a week, it was absolutely tearing me up inside to be apart from them. I was used to waking them up in the morning and putting them down for bed every night. My life felt completely hollow as I slept all alone in this small apartment, but I knew it was not going to be forever. I called them every day, but my daughter was still not talking much yet. Still, I hated having the six-hour drive in between us.  

A few days later, I was late getting to lunch, and by the time I got there the cafeteria was almost empty. I got my tray and then scanned the dining area for anyone with whom I was already familiar. To my relief I saw Roger sitting by himself. He was the one who collected and drove all that furniture to my apartment before he even met me. I guess Roger noticed me standing there, because his countenance went from somber to welcoming as he waved to me. I smiled and made my way over to his table to join him.  

He only sat down to eat a few minutes before I arrived, so we had nearly an hour to chat. Roger came from a ranching family, and his father worked hard to put him through college. I knew he worked in the lab, but I did not realize he had a master’s degree in biochemistry. He was one of two people who oversaw all laboratory functions for the hospital and reported directly to the hospital administrator.  

That really impressed me as I thought he was a lab tech or some other position a bit further down the ladder. I could not believe one of the hospital administrators took his day to collect all that furniture then help carry it up to my apartment.  He even stayed behind with a nice couple from payroll to help me get my new things arranged. I was not used to people in a position so far above mine being so generous to people not at their social standing.  

For three days I did not see Roger again, and eventually I found out why. He always made sure that the rest of his staff had time for lunch before taking his own lunch break. He sounded like a very giving person, and I counted it as one of my blessings that Roger came into my life when he did.  

I took my next two lunch breaks late so I would better my chances of running into Roger. To my joy, I found him sitting alone at a table both times. We would sit and chat as we ate our meals. He told me all about the town and the surrounding area. I was shocked to learn about the frontier history of the surrounding territory and how many pivotal moments happened in this very region.  

I gave Roger some of the details of my current situation and of the loss of my husband. He was very sympathetic towards me as he could see I was still a young woman to be a widow with two children. Roger explained to me how he had a cabin in the mountains that my children and I might enjoy. If I ever wanted to use it, all I had to do was let him know.  

He started to offer me other forms of assistance, but he backed off when he could see how uncomfortable it was making me. It was nothing against Roger. I know he was only trying to make someone’s difficult time a little less difficult, but I never had a man offering to be so helpful to me since my husband died. I think he at least had a sense of what I was feeling, and he turned the topic to other matters.  

Several weeks later, when I received my second semi-monthly paycheck, I found the amount to be much greater than that of my first check. Sure, it was some sort of mistake, I looked at the check stub and saw an amount nearly equal to that of a month’s pay. It was listed on my check stub as a sign on bonus. I never discussed any sign on bonus with the man who interviewed me and no one above me in my department ever said anything about it.  

This was enough money for me to go ahead and move, which meant I could bring my children up a month sooner than I thought I would. It seemed like this bonus had to be some sort of mistake, but I did not want to rock the boat just in case it was. It was perfectly reasonable for me to accept the idea this was a bonus about which my interviewer simply forgot to mention. In addition to that, I thought the bonus may be because of the distance I had to move to take the job, and I did not want to make employees who lived locally their whole life feel like they were being short changed.  

It did not take me looking for a new place long at all before I found a house that would be perfect for my children and me. The house was only one story, so I did not have to worry about my small children falling down any stairs. The house had three bedrooms and two baths and an open garage. The square footage was almost that of my mother’s rather large home, and I was going to be paying less than a hundred dollars than my last apartment in the city.  

I was not sure who organized it, but Roger and seven others showed up on the morning of my move to help. I felt like any thanks I gave them would be inadequate. I knew a couple of people were coming to assist me in getting everything moved from my apartment to my house, so I was beside myself when eight people showed up. Some of them left around midday, but others came by and provided what help they could. In all a total of twelve people from work and their spouses donated their time to helping me move. By the time the day was done, everything was moved and most of the boxes were unpacked. Now it was time to take the weekend to get my children and bring them to once again live with me.  

The next day, while we were having lunch, Roger asked me if I would like to have dinner or go to a movie with him. There was not a whole lot else to do in town aside from outdoor activities. I told Roger I would like that, but I made it clear as politely as I could that I was not looking for a romantic relationship at the time. Roger told me he was fine with that, and he was happy just being good friends with me.  

Instead of going to dinner or a movie, Roger and I went bowling instead. This was the one indoor activity in the town that allowed people to be active and even a bit loud and rowdy. Not since my husband passed away had I have anything to drink, but during our second game, I allowed myself to order a beer. My system was so unused to alcohol anymore, that one beer had me tipsy and giggling.  

With my coordination impaired, I began to throw a lot less strikes and a lot more gutter balls. Roger stopped me after my second beer because I was beginning to stumble and fall at that point. We were not even finished with our third game when Roger decided he was ready to take me home. My car was there too, but Roger told me not to worry about that. He would find someone to drive his truck while he went to pick my car back up for me.  

Honestly, there was no way for me to be sure how much I embarrassed myself or Roger as I could not remember much that happened after that first beer. All I knew was that I woke up in my bed still wearing the clothes I had on from last night. It looked like Roger helped me into the house and being an honest man, laid me in bed with my clothes on. I was actually very relieved to see that I was not in my pajamas, or even more disturbing, totally naked.  

After turning on the coffee pot, I walked to the front of the house. Even before I got to the window, I could see the keys to my car were sitting on the small oval table next to the door, and once I reached the window, I could see my car was indeed parked in the driveway in front of my house. Roger truly seemed to be a man of his word. I did not know who he got to drive his truck back here for him as he drove my car, but I would like to find out so I could thank them.  

I only had this one last day to work before I went to pick up my precious little babies, and it did not help that I was slightly hung over. I did not feel like I was drug through the mud and hung up wet, but I did feel less than one hundred percent. That was alright though, because tomorrow morning I would make that long drive back to the city to bring my children home with me where they belonged.  

My mother was waiting with my little miracles at the door when I pulled into the driveway. My daughter screamed and hit a pitch that was probably almost outside the range of human hearing and hobbled toward me as fast as she could. My son was not quite so excited to see me, and it broke my heart to see him looking at me the way that he was.  

It was not until later, when I had time to sit down and talk to my mother, that I understood why my son was so upset with me. She told me my son thought I was never coming back to get them because he thought I did not want them anymore. It tore at my heart to hear her say this, and to find out my son felt like he lost his father only to be abandoned by his mother. He would ask her daily how many days it was since I moved away. I guess he was going to have to get over his anger before he could be excited.  

The next morning, I was awake shortly after the sun rose. I was sipping coffee and chatting with my mom when my son came out of his bedroom. He stumbled a bit as he wiped the sleepiness from his eyes, and when he looked at me his face lit up like the sun. Giggling in joy, my son ran up to me and put his arms around my legs.  

My heart melted and tears of joy ran from my eyes. I was afraid it was going to be a drawn-out process as my son got over the anger of feeling abandoned, but it did not take him long at all to be happy to see me. We hugged for a full minute or two before I asked him what he would like for breakfast. I was glad to find out my mother cooked them breakfast every morning instead of feeding them sugary cereals.  

Roger and I did not have any more one on one “friend” dates, but we did still hang around with others as a group. There were a lot of people my age working at the hospital, and I did not think Roger could be any more than five or six years older than me at most. Although the little town did not have much of a nightlife, there were six bars not counting the one in the bowling alley. On the weekends there was always some sort of event, festival, or celebration happening in one or more of the town’s parks, so there was always something to do to keep active.  

I learned a lot of new games of which I was previously unaware such as washers and corn-hole. I really enjoyed the community activities, and I was elated to see how well my children were getting along with other kids their ages. I was glad they were able to make some friends before I put them into daycare the next week. The hospital provided free daycare services for employees, so my little ones would play with the same children all the time.  

Four weekends later I took my children with me to the Founder’s Day celebration which was happening in multiple parks throughout the day. Fliers mailed to every residence in town detailed which events were going on at which park, so I spent most of the morning and early afternoon taking my children to events I knew they would enjoy.  

After we sat down and had something for lunch, I allowed myself one beer while I still had a full stomach. My plan initially was to nurse the beer for an hour, but due to the hot weather I had to drink it fast, so it did not go flat on me. I got a bit tipsy, but not like my bowling night with Roger. That was alright though, I had plenty of time before I would have to drive. I would long be sober by the time I had to drive me and my children home.  

One of the mothers from work had three children around the same age as mine, so she and her husband took them for me for a little while so I could play some games and socialize without someone yelling “mom” at me every few minutes. I decided to put my name in for a game of horseshoes. We had a horseshoe pit in the small park near our house back in the city some of my neighbors and I used to use quite frequently. Some of the other games looked fun, but I had no experience with those.  

Since I was by myself, I ended up being paired with a nice young man by the name of Jeremey. We met a few times before, but we never exchanged more than polite greetings and bland pleasantries. This was the first time we actually had time to talk and get to know each other a little. Jeremy worked in triage in the emergency room, which is a job I did not think I could do. It was a bit ironic that blood made me queasy with me working in a hospital, but that was why I worked in administration. The worst injury I would normally see was a paper cut.  

I decided to have a second beer as I felt the first one wearing off. Jeremy and I made it through the first round of the competition and were about to begin the second round. If we qualified in this round, we went to the finals. I did not know when I entered this competition, but this was one the locals took very seriously. A trophy was given on the last day of the celebration to the winning team.  

Once I realized how important this contest was, I decided not to finish my beer so I could keep my wits and coordination about me. This was a game with which I had a lot of practice, and it was very possible Jeremy and I could win this. I was having a lot of fun, and I was enjoying getting to know Jeremy. Like me, he moved from a much larger population center to come to work for the hospital. Although I really wanted to ask if he got a sign-on bonus like I did, I decided that was probably not a very good idea. He did come on two years before me, and the bonus may not have been offered at that time.  

Jeremy and I made it through the eliminations for the second round and moved on to the finals. I could not believe, with all the ranchers in this region, that a city girl like me made it as far as I did in what is typically thought of as a rural activity. We were halfway through the third round when Jeremy mentioned the possibility of the two of us doing something sometime. As with Roger, I politely explained to him that I would love to do some friend activities with him, but I still was not ready to move on romantically since the loss of my husband.  

I was relieved when Jeremy told me he understood; I needed more time to get over my husband’s passing. We continued on and made it through the third round, ranking second place out of the remaining eight teams. The final round was not to take place until tomorrow which was the last day of the Founder’s Day celebration, and I really needed to get my children back.  

I felt bad for being in this game while someone else was basically stuck watching my children for me, but she said she did not mind at all. She, along with some other mothers, took all the children to the playground area. My son ran and played, climbed on the monkey bars, and overall ran himself into exhaustion. By the time we got home, both he and my daughter were sound asleep in their car seats.  

It felt good to walk into the lobby of the hospital the next Monday to see the trophy Jeremy and I won being prominently displayed in a large glass case. I did not realize how seriously the residents of this small town took this horseshoe competition, and I was definitely not expecting to see it on display at the hospital. It was not until later I discovered most trophies not related to the junior high or high school were placed on display in various cases in the smaller hospital lobbies.  

Jeremy could not take his lunch break to coincide with mine, so I continued to sit with Roger as I always seemed to get to my lunch break late every day. Three workdays passed before I saw Jeremy again. I jokingly asked him if he was trying to avoid me, but instead of chuckling immediately, he paused for a few seconds before reacting. It was possible I read too much into the situation, but his reaction confirmed for me that he was indeed trying to avoid seeing me.  

Everything seemed fine Sunday when he and I won the horseshoe trophy, and I did not pick up any signs that he no longer wanted my company. He gave me a hug after I threw the winning ringer before quickly pulling back and apologizing for being so forward. I told him it was fine; we were celebrating our win. I was laughing and we were having fun, so I could not comprehend what had him acting this way.  

One week later the texts began. Jeremy began to text me, once a day at first but more frequently as the days passed, telling me how he would like to have more than just a friendship with me. He said he wanted to take care of me and my children. I found these texts very disturbing as we only knew each other for slightly over seven days. He seemed to be acting like he was in love with me, and he had a whole life planned for us in his head.  

I did not see Jeremy that entire week or the week after that, but I was not trying to run into him intentionally. I basically avoided any of the areas he was likely to be unless I had no other choice. The texts continued, so I finally blocked the number to prevent any more of his texts from coming through.  

The next Monday, when I took my children to the on-site daycare, I made sure to speak with the ladies there and tell them not to let anyone but me pick up my children. They assured me no one would get my children but me, and I could tell they felt a sense of concern when I made this request, but they did not push me for any additional details. For the next three mornings, the caring ladies in the daycare made sure to ask me if everything was alright when I dropped off my little ones each morning. I did not want to tell anyone what was happening because it involved another hospital employee.  

On the fourth day – I still had not seen Jeremy yet – I began to let down my guard as I thought blocking Jeremy’s phone stopped the problem. It was getting close to the end of my shift when my phone began to vibrate in my purse. My heart skipped a beat as I thought of who it might be. It only buzzed twice in quick succession, so I knew it was a text message. Anyone who needed to contact me about my children would either call my cell phone or even more likely call me on the work phone.  

With butterflies stirring in my stomach, I reached down into my purse and withdrew my phone. I paused for several seconds before I unlocked the home screen and checked the message. I could tell by the tone of the text that it was from Jeremy, and what he said gave me the chills. He described me only half an hour ago going to the coffee maker. He even went into detail of how many packets of cream and sugar I used.  

I began crying, grabbed my purse and headed straight to the lady’s room. When I burst through the door connecting the office room to the hallway, I nearly knocked Roger to the ground. He began picking up the papers that were in his hands a few seconds ago but stopped almost immediately when he noticed how upset I was. He dropped the few papers he did pick up and gently placed his fingers on the side of my shoulders.  

“What’s going on?” he asked me with clear concern. “Are you okay? Th-the kids are okay right?” That last part he said with a bit more urgency.  

I quickly told him my children were fine. He gave me a minute to compose myself, and then I finally broke down and told him what was going on for the last few weeks. Roger looked at me like he did not believe what I told him, or perhaps he was a bit confused about the entire situation, but he listened to me until I was finished.  

At that point he did get down and pick up the papers I knocked from his hands. I saw someone coming down the hallway, so I helped him get them all picked up, even if they were all probably in the wrong order. Once the nurse passed by, Roger told me to come with him down to his office. I had to go back to turn off my computer and do a few things, but it was at the end of my workday. I did what I needed to do and then returned to the hallway where Roger was still waiting.  

He walked one step behind and one step to the side of me like a protective father as we made our way to his shockingly large office. Roger told me to have a seat, got behind his desk, and began doing something on the computer. After a minute or two of looking around, something of a scowl crossed Roger’s forehead as he seemed to be trying to understand something.  

“What is it?” I finally asked.  

Roger informed me that Jeremy stopped showing up for his shifts more than two weeks ago. That did not make sense because he knew exactly what I was doing less than an hour ago. Although Roger admitted he did not know much about the computer system, it was his thought that Jeremy might be patching into the security system somehow.  

He planned on having the tech-support office check into the possible problem, but I did not want this to get out to become town gossip. Despite this, Roger said he had to check into the issue. He would keep my name out of it as best he could, but if someone was hacking into the hospital’s computer network, it could pose a very serious security threat. He had an obligation to investigate it.  

At this point, I was afraid of going home. Jeremey knew where I worked, what I was doing when I was there, and I was terrified he would be watching me at home as well. When I told Roger of my concerns, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he tried to help me come up with a reasonable solution. Eventually, he gave his shoulders a slight shrug and told me that the kids and I could come stay with him until we were somehow able to put an end to this.  

I thanked him for the offer, but I told Roger I could not put him out like that. He then suggested I at least let him stay over at my house for the next few nights at least to make sure no one was going to try to get inside. I informed him that I did not have a room or a bed where he could sleep, but he told me sleeping on the sofa would be fine since it would only be for a few days.  

Roger said he would need to go home and pack an overnight bag, but he did not want me going home alone. I told him I could take my children for dinner before we headed home. Roger agreed this would probably be a good idea and told me he would meet me there as soon as he got the things he would need for the next couple of days.  

We were almost finished with our meals when Roger showed up to the diner to meet me. After helping me get my little ones in their car seats, he followed me to my house. When I pulled into my driveway, I was quite perplexed to see Roger continue on to the end of the block and make a right turn. I waited for a few minutes for him to return, and I was just about to climb out of my car and get my kids when Roger pulled up in front of my house. He wanted to circle around to look and see if he happened to see Jeremy or his car anywhere around.  

Roger stayed with me and my children for three days without any further incidents. It made me feel good to see how well he got along with my son, and my daughter absolutely adored him. I told Roger he did not have to continue staying with us, protecting us. There were heavy locks on all the doors, and I kept a small revolver in my bedstand. I felt confident Jeremy would not try to force his way into or otherwise invade my home, and if he did, I was ready to protect my family. Initially he protested, but Roger understood he could not stay here forever.  

That night and the next day passed without any incident, but that night as I was tucking my son in bed, I could hear my phone’s muffled ringing coming from where I had it stashed in my purse. I thought it might be Roger or someone else I knew from work, so I quickly kissed my son on the forehead and ran to get my phone before it stopped ringing. It was not a number I recognized, but I answered it anyway.  

When I answered, no one replied. I could, although, hear someone grunting, almost growling on the other end. I knew immediately who it had to be. My initial response was to yell at Jeremy to leave me alone, but I did not want to upset my children. Instead, I told him quietly but very firmly that he better leave me alone or I would have him arrested. He stopped the growling and began clacking his teeth together like he either was insane or he wanted me to think he was insane. Either way it was working.  

What probably disturbed me the most about this incident was that Roger was here for three nights and nothing happened. The day after Roger went home, the harassment began once again. That meant Jeremy was keeping an eye on my house, and he knew that Roger was no longer here. He was probably studying me, getting to know my daily routine. It would not be hard. I got my kids ready, took them to daycare, went to work, and basically started it all over the next day.  

Initially I was going to call Roger to come back to my house, but I decided against that. Instead, I made sure all the windows and doors were securely locked, and all the blinds and curtains were drawn. I turned on the light in the living room, but I took my pillows and blankets into the hallway and slept on the floor in between the doorways to my children’s bedrooms. I kept my revolver with me, but I put it in my purse, snapped it shut and put it under the blanket with me.  

When I saw Roger the next day at work, I explained to him what happened the previous night. At that point he strongly urged me to get a dog to help protect my house and family. Although I was previously apprehensive about getting a dog, my son asked me multiple times for one since his father passed away. I guess Roger was right, but I really had no idea where to get a dog other than from the rescue shelter. That would be as good a place as any to look.  

I did not see Roger for lunch, but I still did not have to sit alone. I sat with some friends I made in other departments. Hopefully I did not seem overtly paranoid, but I kept an eye on the rest of the cafeteria to make sure I did not see Jeremy anywhere, watching me in secret. If anyone did notice, no one said anything. That was a relief to me because I did not want to have to explain the situation to them. It was hard enough to tell Roger. I was the outsider in this situation, and I was absolutely terrified if anyone found out, they would say it was my fault.  

I took some personal time and made it a half-day. The shelter closed at 5 p.m., and I could not get there if I worked a full day. Roger caught me in the lobby as my children and I were leaving to inform me he ordered a home surveillance system for me and the people should be there to install it by the end of the day. I told him I could not afford something so expensive, but he told me not to worry about it. He was having the hospital pay for it. When I tried to object, he told me he could always justify it because the person stalking me was also the person who hacked into the hospital’s security cameras. I still did not feel comfortable with this, but Roger told me it was only a loan. Whenever the threat was over, I could return the system to the hospital.  

My son was beside himself when I told him where we were going and what we were going to do. My daughter giggled and clapped her hands some, but I thought my son was going to burst out of his car seat. He was that excited.  

As the attendant brought us through to look at what dogs they had up for adoption, my son wanted to run the length of the corridor. I had to keep a hold of his hand to prevent him from wandering off. He finally stopped at one cage and began to hop in anticipation. Frantically he begged me to get one of two the dogs inside, both German shepherds. When I found out one was eight years old, and the other was her two-year-old puppy, I did not have the heart to take one of them and not the other. Before the day was done, we were driving home with two large dogs.  

I was not able to stop to pick up any supplies for the animals we just adopted into our family. As much as I did not want to, I called Roger and asked him if he could pick me up some dog food and some dishes for them. Luckily, I caught him before he left the office. Roger told me he already planned to come by in a few hours to make sure the surveillance cameras were delivered and set up properly. Stopping at the grocery store for a few things would only take ten more minutes of his time.  

We were not home even an hour before there was a knock at my front door. Initially my reaction was to think it was Jeremy trying to break in, but then there was a second knock and a call from the other side of the door. It was the technicians here to set up the cameras in and around my house.  

The men were very good at what they did, pinpointing the places around my house they would need to place cameras in order to watch every door and window. They also set up several cameras inside my house, even showing me how I could move them around to other places in the house if I so chose. They were only at my house for a little more than an hour, and I could see every inch of my property from the outside from the monitor of my home computer.  

Now with two large dogs in the house and the ability to monitor everything surrounding my home, I felt much safer from the man who relentlessly stalked me for months now. Not ten minutes after the technicians left my home, Roger arrived with a huge bag of dog food, two food bowls and two water dishes. He also bought two collars and two leashes as he was not sure if I had any or not. I thanked him so much for helping me with this. It was hard to get things done when I had my children to take everywhere with me.  

I told my son he could name the boy dog, and my daughter could name the girl dog. That was how we ended up with the names Bup for the puppy and Nonnie for the older dog. Bup and Nonnie took well to Roger, which kind of made me worry they would be too friendly to any intruder that may enter my home. I was sure once they got used to me and my children, their protective instincts would kick in.  

I showed Roger how all the cameras around the house all displayed their feed on my desktop computer. I could zoom in on one or watch all of them at once, and an external hard drive stored the videos so it would not fill the storage on my own computer. He was pleased with the workmanship of the surveillance system as I was, because now I could watch outside of the house without even having to crack the curtains. As they were, the cameras only allowed me a slight glance at the surrounding properties, but I could see everything on my own property.  

Roger would not let me pay him back for the dog food and dishes initially, but I insisted he allow me to reimburse him. As he began to leave, Roger told me to call him if I needed to, but I was rather confident we were safe inside the house with the camera system and our two new family members. I did still plan to add a few extra locks to the front and back doors, but I was not sure what else I could do to protect the windows outside of planting holly bushes outside.  

The next day I got in contact with the man who actually owned the property I was renting and informed him of the situation. Mainly I wanted to let him know about the surveillance system mounted around the house. When I told him this, he informed me he planned on putting up a wooden privacy fence around the back yard and the sides of the front yard, so he told me he would get it done as soon as he could. After informing him of my intent to plant the holly bushes, he told me he would pay me back for the costs if I took care of the planting.  

My phone number was much easier to change than I anticipated, and I had it done in less than ten minutes. When I got back to work the next day, I would have to make sure I changed my number with them. There were a few more people I would have to inform such as my landlord, but that would not take me very long at all. With my new number, I received no texts or phone calls for the entire night. With the new security system and the addition of the two German shepherds to the household, I got the first good night’s sleep I had in more than a month.  

Nearly a week passed without any further incidents, and I began to believe Jeremy was finally going to leave me alone. My hopes were crushed when I got to work that morning and turned on my computer. One of the first things I did was check my work emails, and I found my inbox filled with hundreds of emails. I did not read many of them, but the ones I did read accused me of being a harlot who was sleeping with most of the men working in the hospital administration. One of the emails threatened to expose me to the people of the town, but there was nothing to expose. The last romantic relationship in my life was with my husband. I was not sleeping with anyone, much less most of the men in the office.  

I really did not know what I should do about this. On one hand the harassing emails came in through my work account, and the hospital should be informed. On the other hand, I was afraid the contents of the emails would get out and rumors would begin that what Jeremy said in the messages was true. The thought of becoming known as the town tramp, even though I was celibate for more than two years, absolutely terrified me. I was still new here, and if someone successfully got these rumors to spread throughout the community, I may actually have to move.  

Ultimately, I ended up going down to Roger’s office to explain to him what happened. He could tell I was visibly upset as soon as I entered his office and jumped from behind his desk. Running over to me, Roger reached up and closed the blinds for his windows before putting his hands on my shoulders. Bending his knees so he could look at me on my eye level, Roger asked me what happened.  

Roger was still trying to remain professional, but at that point I needed someone to hold me. I stepped in with my arms pulled against my chest and my hands clenched and laid my head against Roger’s shoulder. For the first time since Jeremy began to harass me, I lost control of my emotions and began to sob. Roger reached behind him and retrieved several tissues, which he then handed to me. I wiped the tears from my eyes first before backing away to blow my nose. Through the blur of tears filling my eyes, I looked up to see Roger holding more tissues and an office trash can.  

He was so good to me as I was going through such a difficult situation. Roger looked out for me even before Jeremy began this sadistic stalking and relentless harassment. Although he wanted me to contact the police over this email blast Jeremy sent me, I told him I did not want to get the authorities involved. I still hoped there was a chance I could keep this out of the public eye because I knew in a small community like this, it was not difficult at all for rumors to spread.  

I also begged him not to tell the tech division or security about what was happening. Roger insisted that, since it was an email address the hospital owned, he was going to have to tell someone about this. As I once again began to sob, I pleaded with him not to say anything to anyone else. I was sure Jeremy would give up after an amount of time; I just didn’t know how long that period of time would be.  

For now Roger agreed to keep this between the two of us. He would take care of getting me a new email address and planned to keep it out of the public directory. Hopefully this would stop Jeremy from harassing me in this manner at least. He sighed in hesitation before finally telling me he would keep this between us for now, but if the situation continued to escalate, he would have to do something. He was not going to sit back while my stalker turned into a killer.  

Once again I broke into tears at the mention of a killer. This thought was there in the back of my mind, but I was successfully ignoring it until Roger said it out loud. Reluctantly, Roger wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I cried for several more minutes before I finally regained my composure. My eyes must have been red and puffy, because Roger told me he was going to go down to the daycare center to get my children and bring them back to his office. He said to stay in there to allow myself a few minutes to calm myself down.  

Roger was sending me home early today, but he wanted to go with me to make sure I got into the house safely. Once he made sure we were home and okay, Roger planned to go back to work and finish off his day. Before he walked all the way down to the daycare center, I called ahead and told them Roger had my permission to pick up my children on this one occasion. Otherwise, they would not let him pick them up for me.  

The dogs were happy to see us home early, and I put them out in the back yard so they could get some exercise and take care of their business. I was so happy that my children took to the dogs and the dogs took to my kids as well as they did. I knew they would be protective of my little ones if anyone were to approach them in a threatening way.  

As the next few days passed, I anticipated my phone ringing at any time. I changed my number, but the hospital had it on file. Considering this, I began to wonder if Jeremy had someone who worked inside the hospital giving him my personal contact information. I guess Jeremy could still have friends working there who could pass my phone number and such to him. That thought frightened me even more because that would mean there was more than one person behind all of these harassing attacks.  

I began to feel a bit of comfort when there were no more incidents for almost two weeks. It so happened to be the night of Friday the 13th when I was awoken by the alert on my phone telling me there was motion on my front porch. Climbing out of bed, I put on my robe and walked over to my computer to check the cameras. I fell back a step and thought I was going to vomit when I saw what was on the monitor. A deranged, sadistic looking clown with what appeared to be blood spattered over its polkadotted outfit stood right outside my front door.  

My heart raced as I looked at that clown with its tooth filled, distortedly wide smile while it stood there and looked right into the camera. I knew it had to be Jeremy, or possibly someone who was working with him. Either way, it did not appear he was ever going to let up with this terrifying harassment. Suddenly the clown began to move very slowly. It seemed to be attempting to operate something, perhaps a phone, with its rubber glove covered hands.  

The next thing I knew, every single one of the cameras protecting my home turned off. As quickly as I possibly could, I ran into my bedroom and retrieved my pistol from the nightstand. My hands trembled with fright as I fumbled with the trigger lock. When I finally managed to get the trigger lock off my gun, I ran back into the hallway and pointed it at the front door. Nothing happened for several minutes, so I slowly went back to my computer and reactivated the cameras.  

The cameras had to be reactivated one by one, so the first one I reactivated was for the front porch. I was relieved at first to see the clown was no longer there, then the realization hit me that whoever this was could be making their way around my house. Trying to take some deep breaths and calm myself down a bit, I continued to reactivate the cameras until they were all once again functioning. I could not see anyone through any of the video feeds, so I assumed the clown was gone. I continued to watch the monitors for more than an hour to make sure this person did not return.  

I did not think breaking in was ever his intent. I thought this was definitely Jeremy, and he was showing me that he could access my cameras with his device. The security company that installed the system for me said it could only be accessed by means of a password, but clearly that was not the case. First thing in the morning I was going to have someone come out and fix whatever allowed someone to hack into my security system.  

Again, I slept in the hallway on the hard floor. My thick comforter helped some, but it was still difficult to sleep without the comfort of a bed. Between the discomfort and the fear that still filled my thoughts, I only managed to get two hours of sleep at the most.  

Instead of calling the security company first thing in the morning, I decided to call Roger instead. He was the only person I could trust at the moment. It was entirely possible that Jeremy either knew someone who worked for the security firm that installed my cameras, or he could even be working there now. Once I told him what happened last night, Roger was at my house in less than twenty minutes.  

I let Roger greet my children and play with them for a bit before I sat them down for breakfast. Once I had their attention occupied, I walked over and turned on my computer monitor. All of the cameras were still up and running, but I reduced that window and pulled up the camera footage from last night. This time, I went further back until I saw the terrifying clown walking from around the edge of the privacy fence and up to my porch. He stood there for almost five minutes before somehow causing my cameras to turn off. When the recording resumed, the clown was nowhere to be seen.  

Roger stood silently with his hand over his mouth as if he were in deep thought. After debating it for a few moments, Roger told me he would like for me and the kids to come and stay with him until we could either get some bars put over the windows, or we brought an end to this whole ordeal. Normally I would be very reluctant to accept such an offer, but I was at my wits end. I did not feel like I could keep my children safe even with a gun and two large dogs.  

Regardless, I told Roger I could not be such an inconvenience to him, but he insisted it was no bother. He had a bedroom for each of us, his home was inside a gated community, and security patrolled the streets regularly. His whole property was surrounded by a ten-foot-tall iron gate with a keypad operated gate in the front and back of the plot. I put up a bit more of an argument, but that was only for show. I was more than happy to stay there with Roger in the wealthiest area of the small town rather than being so vulnerable where we currently were.  

Eventually, I told my son to get some of his clothes together while I got some things for me and my daughter. Becoming buddies with my boy, Roger helped him pack a small suitcase and a tub full of toys. It made my heart melt to listen to the two laughing and joking as they tended to their task. Within another thirty minutes, we had enough things packed to last us for close to a week until I would need to do the wash.  

My son wanted to ride with Roger, and I thought this was a good idea. Perhaps it would help him adjust to this sudden move, so I removed his car seat and installed it in the back seat of Roger’s truck. Installing the seat in Roger’s vehicle was much easier than installing it in mine as his truck had special buckle connections designed specifically to make this task easier.  

The instant we pulled into the small, gated community, I felt as if I was underdressed. The houses and lawns were so beautiful; I did not know a neighborhood like this even existed in this town. The entire subdivision was surrounded by a wall of trees which obscured this neighborhood from the rest of the town. There were probably only three to four dozen homes at most, but they were incredible homes with sizable yards.  

My son was almost ready to tear free from his restraints as he saw where we would be staying for the next week or so. Roger’s house was huge. Not only did he have a bedroom for each of us, he still had two bedrooms remaining. I found it rather odd for a single man with no children to have such a large home, but if I had the money he apparently made, I would go big too.  

He did not tell me this at first, probably because he knew I would object, but he hired a nanny to stay with my little ones during the day, so we did not have to bring them out in public every time I went to work. Roger also told me that he had one full-time and one part-time housekeeper who would be here during that time as well.  

I was unsure about leaving my children with people I did not know, but I was also unsure of how many of the people I knew there were who I could trust. Roger informed me the housekeepers were with him for more than five years, and the nanny was one of their sisters. His reassurances worked and I began to feel safer about my children remaining here as Roger and I went to work.  

For the first hour we were at Roger’s, we spent the whole time chasing my son from room to room. He wanted to see everything in “Roger’s Mansion” as he put it, and he wanted to know about everything he saw. Both of us adults were growing tired, so Roger told him there was a surprise for him in the back yard. My boy was like one of those tiny yapping dogs that jump every time they bark. He was going nuts wanting to know what his surprise was.  

Roger walked us all to the back of the house, and when he opened the door, I could see a large jungle gym and sandbox area in his back yard. It seemed a bit out of place with the rest of the landscape desigining, but it made my boy’s year to have a school quality jungle gym right there in the back yard. As I watched my son playing around on the swings, Roger slipped inside and brought us each out a cold beer.  

“Yours is the one with the insulator,” Roger said. “I know how you like to nurse your beer.”  

We had a little chuckle over this because he was right. I tended to get drunk quickly because of my small frame, so I had to consume my alcohol slowly. I wished I did not become inebriated so easily, but it was what it was.  

It was not long before the little ones tired themselves out and were ready for a nap. Having had a beer so early in the day, I was ready for a nap as well. Roger took us to the rooms in which we would be staying. The three rooms were on the second floor right next to each other. Two of them even shared a bathroom. Roger’s bedroom was on the first floor, and he told me to come down whenever I was ready.  

The bed was so comfortable I thought I would never get out. I had no idea a bed could possibly be as blissfully comforting as this. With all the stress I endured recently, and feeling the safety of this location, I fell asleep faster than I had in months.  

Two weeks passed and I had no further issues with Jeremy. It seemed he was finally going to leave me alone. I assumed he percieved me as out of his reach since I moved in with Roger and moved on with his life.  

Roger was a patient gentleman, my knight in shining armor through this, and I began to develop feelings for him that I had not experienced since losing my husband. The idea of falling in love terrified me to my very core, but I had the feeling Roger was already in love with me.  

One Saturday night, after Roger helped me get my children to bed, I reminded him of what I told him the first time he asked me out.   

“I think I’m ready now,” I told him through a face I knew had to be blushing.  

Roger got up from where he was seated and came to have a seat beside me. With a cute smile crossing his face, Roger put his arm around me, and we continued to watch the movie we had playing on the television. Although we spent a large portion of the night cuddling, we did not allow it to go any further than that for now. We did not want to rush getting into bed because we were both concerned with ruining what we already had.  

Over the next few weeks, we spent virtually all our time together. My children and I did not officially move in with Roger yet, but in time we had more of our stuff at his house than we did at ours. Although Roger did not particularly like the dogs coming inside the house, it did not take long to train them to stay in certain rooms toward the back of the house. The two German shepherds absolutely loved the running room they had in the huge back yard of “Roger’s Mansion.”  

Although our relationship progressed to the point of intimacy, I continued to sleep in my own room. I did not know how to break it to my son that I fell in love with Roger. He barely had time to get to know his own father, and I did not want to replace him with Roger and take away any memories my son had. I did not have to explain to him our love life, but I was going to have to explain to him if we began sharing the same bedroom every night.  

I still loved my late husband, and being with Roger made me feel like I was cheating on him. More than two years passed since the accident that took his life, but I still felt like our marriage vows were still valid. Although I knew in my heart he would not want me to spend the rest of my life alone, it was difficult as I felt as though I was replacing the father of my children. I loved him so much. He was the first, and until recently the only love of my life.  

Roger took very good care of me and my children, and eventually I ended the lease on the house I was renting and officially moved into Roger’s beautiful home. After six months of living with him, I received no more emails, phone calls or texts from Jeremy. It appeared he gave up once I moved my family in with Roger. Jeremy probably saw me as vulnerable when I was alone, but now he must realized I was out of his reach. For the first time in months, I once again felt safe.  

Slightly more than six months after I officially moved in with Roger, he proposed to me. It was so romantic. He set up the patio in the back yard like a five-star restaurant, and he even had a string quartet playing lovely music. I knew what he was going to ask me, but he waited until we finished our dinner before kneeling before me and asking for my hand in marriage.  

My children were much happier about this news than I initially anticipated. My daughter did not worry me, as she was born after her father was so tragically taken. I did worry about how my son would take this because he was a little more than two years old at the time of the terrible, life altering incident.  

Before our wedding date arrived, Roger received a promotion to administrator of the hospital. The promotion came with an impressively large increase in salary, and this allowed me to drop down to part time. Now I could stay home with my children on the days I would normally have to put them in the daycare. Now they would be raise by me and their nanny. My dream of staying home and being a full-time wife and mother was actually coming true.  

When I put the kids down for their nap at late morning, I decided to sit down in the living room and watch a little television before I began to get the things for supper together. Instead of my regular show, I found it was interrupted by a newscast. I could not believe what I was seeing. Something like this happened in the city on an unfortunately regular basis, but not in a small town like this.  

Some kids playing in the woods discovered human remains hidden under an old stack of sticks and leaves. Forensic experts on the site determined the person died nearly a year ago. My initial thought was this was a bear attack. Brown bears were known to take their kill and hide it for later, and in this case the bear never came back for its meal.  

That was my thought until the news anchor announced the coroner listed the cause of death as a double gunshot wound to the back of the head. Chill bumps covered my skin, and my blood ran cold when they revealed the identity of the dead man. My hands began to tremble and I felt as if I were about to vomit when the news announcer showed the driver’s license picture of the victim. It was Jeremy.  

If Jeremey was killed that long ago, there was no possible way he could be the individual who stalked and taunted me all that time. As a matter of fact, the range provided for the approximate day of his death fell in the same time when Jeremy started acting strange at work, then suddenly disappeared. The thought of the reality of the situation filled me with such panic, for a minute or so I was quite literally paralyzed.  

I loudly fumbled up the stairs and ran to the one door in the house I never opened: Roger’s study. My children still slept in their bedrooms as I stood in front of that large oaken door. It felt like it took me forever to reach up and turn the knob. I allowed the door to slowly swing open to reveal the large, carpeted room with walls lined with books, couches of several sorts, and a desk at the far side of the room.  

Slowly creeping across the floor, I made my way to Roger’s desk and found his computer was running. Jiggling the mouse, I brought up the sign on screen. The opening screen required a password, and taking a shot in the dark, I entered my name. To both my relief and fear, the computer accepted the password and the home screen came into view. There on the home screen I saw a folder labeled with my name. Reluctantly, I clicked on the folder and found it contained a massive number of video files. As little as I wanted to, I clicked on a video labeled with the same date as the night the creepy clown stood at my front door.  

I still did not want to believe this was happening, but there it was right in front of me. Roger had copies of all the videos both inside and outside of my house. I was watching myself panic from inside as the clown stood outside my door instilling a deep sense of terror in me. Roger took care of all the arrangements for the security system for my home, and even billed it to the hospital.   

Could that possibly be how the clown was able to turn off my cameras that terrifying night? When Roger had the security cameras installed, did he have some back door entry into the system about which he never told me?  

As I tried to quell my panic, I gazed about the room for anything else that might give me an indication of what was really going on here. On the side wall of the room was a single closet door with storage shelves on either side holding a variety of decorative nicknacks. Before moving back out from behind the desk, I glanced out the study window to make sure Roger did not come home early before cautiously making my way to the closet door.  

My heart raced as I reached up to grab the polished door handle and gripped it in my hand. Taking in a deep breath, I slowly turned the knob and pulled the door open. It was a large walk-in closet filled with Roger’s suits, shirts and other dress clothing. I felt dizzy as I walked toward the back of the closet, sifting through the clothing as I went.  

Hit with such shock, I was frozen in place for how long I could not say. I spread apart several of Roger’s suits and there, hanging on the back wall of the closet, was that sadistic clown costume he wore in order to terrify me. Turning, I ran from the closet and toward the office door. I knew I had to get me and my children out of this house and away from this man.

Absolute terror fillled me as I saw Roger’s car rolling up the driveway. I could not make my escape now; I was going to have to bide my time and pretend I was unaware of how Roger tormented me. All this time I thought it was Jeremy stalking me and making my life miserable, but it was the very man to whose arms I ran for safety. 

Copyright © 2024

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Figure It Out

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Having a full day before me, I climbed out of bed shortly after the sun fully broke the horizon and scampered into the kitchen to eat a quick bowl of cereal and several slices of buttered toast. I lived in a small town bordering a large state park. Although our humble hamlet experienced a surge in population during the busy seasons as tourists flocked into the region, during most of the year the streets were empty. During this time, there were no more than three thousand people left living in town. 

With so few people in the region during these times of the year, there were less services available to those of us who actually called this place home. One such service was prescription delivery from the local pharmacy. There was simply not enough business for them to justify paying a driver during the off seasons. Widow Jenson, who lived two houses away from me, was too old and feeble to walk or even drive to the pharmacy, and no shuttle buses ran during this time. Every Wednesday I got up early and went to the grocery store that housed the local drug store and picked up Widow Jenson’s medications for her. 

Next on my route was to pick up breakfast from the deli next door which I would drop off with Old Man Greer. Poor Old Man Greer was agoraphobic and absolutely terrified of stepping beyond the outer doorframes of his home. I felt bad for the old guy because he had not left his house in almost two decades. He and his wife were in a tragic car accident, and after suffering in the hospital for almost two months, Mrs. Greer finally passed away. Not long after that Mr. Greer was walking home from the market when he was nearly struck by a pickup truck that ran up onto the sidewalk. Ever since then, the unfortunate gentleman showed his face in public with ever-reducing frequency. Eventually, he became terrified of leaving his house at all. 

Some of the locals talked about Old Man Greer as if he were some sort of lunatic, but given what he experienced I could not blame him of being terrified of the outside. I felt bad for the guy, and I did what I could to provide him with the assistance he needed. Once I dropped Mr. Greer’s breakfast off to him, I headed in to my first job. 

From eight in the morning until noon I worked unloading trucks into storage warehouses where many of the local businesses kept their products in the off seasons. Regular deliveries to keep up with the seasonal businesses were simply not possible given the remote location of our town and the sheer number of visitors we saw during that time frame. The two largest warehouses were at the far edge of town, but there were several smaller ones behind the buildings on the strip that divided our small town. 

Today I was working behind the strip, which worked out best for me on Wednesdays because I had to be at my second job at one thirty in the afternoon. This gave me time to run home, shower, change into my uniform and get to my second job with about ten minutes to spare. While I generally worked in the warehouses five to six days a week, my job at the diner was only on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

By the time I got to my job at the diner, I was already tired from unloading boxes all morning. I did not really have much of a choice if I wanted to keep the house my father left to me. Property taxes here were not too strangling, but the prices of goods and services were high because of an incessant sales tax. Coupled with the fact that with businesses being slow, some of them even closed during the off season, full-time jobs were difficult to come by. Most people I knew of working age worked at least two jobs when the tourists were not in town. 

When I stepped into the diner, there were only two customers seated, but it appeared they were still waiting on their meal. The waitress Sharon, the cook and the dish washer were all standing in front of the counter with their gazes fixed on the television. That was when I noticed the customers were doing the same thing. Unsure of what was transpiring, I walked up to my coworkers and asked them what was happening. 

“They found those two girls that went missing in the park a couple of months ago,” Sharon told me. 

Given the tears in her eyes and the somber look on her face, I did not have to ask if they found the girls alive. I already knew. They were dead. It was not common, but it was not unheard of for hikers to become lost, injured or somehow die an accidental death. I would not think such a report would elicit an emotional response from Sharon like this, so I knew it had to be something much more gruesome. 

Preliminary reports indicated the cause of death was strangulation, but the details of the strangulation were particularly disturbing. The killer bound the girls before tying a hemp cord around their necks. The killer then proceeded to slowly wrap the cord tighter and tighter around their necks until he literally dislocated the vertebrae in their necks. 

I could not believe what I was seeing. During my lifetime nothing so horrific ever occurred near here. The last murder that happened in our town was almost thirty years ago. We could not fathom something like this happening so close to home. 

The young fellow who did the dishes here at the diner and I both even took part in the search for the two young women when they went missing. We never did so together, but both of us liked hiking the park trails and camping in some of the less known scenic sights, so we knew the area quite well. 

Some unfortunate hiker came along the bodies of the girls wrapped in canvass tarps two days ago, but the authorities were only now releasing the information to the public. It was sheer luck, or the lack thereof, that the hiker even found them. The man became lost and ended up in a rather rocky and remote area of the park. 

Because of the treacherous terrain, the area was generally off limits to the public. The hiker’s dog got loose on him and ran off into the forest. The man chased his pet for nearly an hour before finding it stopped at the two bundles of canvass stuffed in between a grouping of large rocks. Had this chance happening not occurred, the young girls’ fate may never have been known. 

Trying to gather my nerves about me, I walked back to the back of the diner, washed my hands, and clocked in. The other cook waited for me to check the line to make sure all the prep work was done before clocking out and heading home to his family. 

I told Sharon she should turn off the television and stop dwelling on that for now, but she insisted on watching the news until the report on the two girls was over. Almost robotically, she moved back behind the counter and began working on her side duties as she waited for the next wave of customers to come in for supper. I never saw Sharon act in such a manner, and I knew she was terrified by what she watched on the news only moments ago. 

Trying to get Sharon’s mind off the horrifying report, I struck up a conversation about being ready for the tourist season to come back in so I would not have to keep working three jobs. It took me a little coaxing, but I finally got her to talk with me about something else. The season was transitioning into spring. Small green leaves were beginning to fill the branches and the early season perennials were in full bloom. I managed to get Sharon’s mind off the gore she witnessed on television and onto the topic of Spring. 

We managed to chat about rather mundane subjects to keep our mind off what we learned watching the news before enough customers began to fill the dining area. It was not a large diner, but it could hold around sixty customers at a time. Normally we would have another waitress from five to eight in the evening, but the girl who used to do that job eloped with her boyfriend several weeks ago leaving us shorthanded. 

For the next three hours, there was no time for chatting. I had no problem keeping up with the orders, and Sharon was getting the food out of the window as soon as I put it up there. The dishwasher assisted Sharon with bussing the tables as well as pouring water and coffee for the customers. We might have been shorthanded, but the three of us worked together for so long there was no need for much verbal communication. 

It was an intensely busy shift, but we never once fell behind. We were accustomed to this daily rush as many of the single residents got off work and came in for supper. We saw a few families each night, but for the most part all of our evening customers were either single or childless couples. It was a rough three hours, but when it was over, it was over. Generally, once the rush hour customers left, there were very few if any customers to come in after that. Usually when that happened, it was someone getting off work late or some similar situation. 

We had the diner cleaned up and ready to shut down as soon as nine o’clock arrived. There were a few things we still had to wrap up that could not be done before closing such as emptying the register and turning off the equipment. I noticed Sharon seemed to be taking longer than normal to get her remaining side work finished, and I was sure it was because she was afraid of walking home. 

The next time Sharon came near the kitchen window, I stopped her and asked her if it would make her feel better if I walked her home. I could see her face brighten a bit when I made the offer, and she gladly accepted. It was a bit out of my way, but I did not mind. I spent a lot of time going out of my way for the people of this town, and I was not going to do any less for a friend and co-worker. 

Once I got off work the next day from unloading boxes into warehouses, I did not bother to go home and change. My third job consisted of doing yardwork for a local lawn care service, so there was no point in changing out of sweaty clothes only to go and immediately get sweaty and dirty again. Since the rest of the crew began work early in the morning, they were in the middle of their workday when I joined them. I knew which lawns they had each day, so it never took me long to find them. 

Although Widow Jensen was not one of our paying customers, I got the owner of the lawncare service to give me permission to mow her yard anyway. She was on a very fixed income, and my boss knew her yard would not get mowed if we did not do it for her. I thought it generous enough for my boss to donate the machinery and gasoline, but he never made me mow the old widow’s lawn while off the clock. 

Since my boss was paying me for the work, I always tried to get the job done as quickly and cleanly as I could. That was the way the permanent residents of our town were. Everyone did what they could to help everyone else. 

In two weeks to the day of the news of that terrible discovery, I walked in to the diner to begin my shift there to find everyone once again staring at the television. This time when I walked up behind them and asked them what was happening, Sharon turned to face me and threw her arms around my neck. Her eyes were red, puffy and full of tears. 

“It’s Molly,” she said. “They found Molly just like those other girls.” 

It was hard for me to believe they found Molly dead in another remote area of the park. She left a note with her parents before she ran away with her boyfriend to get married letting them know of her intentions. 

If Molly was dead, where was her boyfriend? 

I held Sharon tightly as she cried into my shoulder. The two of them were not extremely close, but they were close nonetheless. It was disturbing enough when we found out two tourists were found murdered, but this one hit very close to home. The owner of the diner even called us to tell us to close down for the day. Anyone from this area would understand. 

Sharon did not ask me to walk her home since a few days after that first news report, but she pleaded with me not to make her walk home alone. I assured her I would be there with her, and she would not have to walk home by herself. Once we got everything cleaned down and put away, we exited the building and locked the door behind us. 

Sharon continued to cry softly, sniffling every now and again, as we walked down the sidewalk together. I wanted to put my arm around her, hold her hand or something to make her feel better, but I was afraid any move like that would make her think I was taking advantage of her grief. At the moment, I was at a deep loss as to what I should do. Although it was not cold out, I took the light jacket I had folded over my arm and placed it over Sharon’s shoulders. I thought that might give her some small measure of comfort without me making physical contact with her. 

When we reached her house, Sharon asked me if I would come inside for a little while as she did not want to be alone. Accepting her invitation, I thought it might be nice to have some company for a change. The vast majority of my time not spent working, sleeping or running errands was comprised of me sitting alone at home reading or watching television. If I could help Sharon feel safe in her own home, I rather felt I had the obligation to do so. 

The old brick Tudor style home was decorated inside with handmade doilies, crocheted table covers and all sorts of handmade crafts. It reminded me of my grandmother’s house before she passed away more than ten years ago. I found it to be very cozy and comforting at a time when the entire town was distressed. 

Sharon started a pot of water boiling on the stove and asked me if I would like some tea. I was not much of a tea drinker, but I did not want to be rude since she already had the water going. I told her I would love a cup of tea and thanked her very much for her hospitality. When the tea kettle began to whistle, Sharon disappeared into the other room. A minute later she called out and asked me if I wanted sugar or cream with my tea. I had it with sugar, but I never had it with cream, so I told her that would be great. One minute later she returned to the living room with a cup and saucer for both of us. 

For a few minutes after taking her seat, Sharon and I sat in uncomfortable silence. I was afraid of saying anything because I did not want to make her cry again, but eventually I felt like I had to say something. Trying to avoid the subject of Molly’s tragic death, I began talking about being ready for the tourist season to resume so I could quit at least one of my jobs for the time. 

We managed to carry on a casual conversation for half an hour or so before Sharon began crying. I would have moved over to sit beside her, but she was seated in an old, cushioned chair. Sitting my cup of tea on the coffee table resting on the floor between Sharon and me, I asked her if she would like to talk about what happened to our former coworker. Regaining her composure, Sharon nodded her head feebly and murmured a faint ‘um hum.’ 

Only briefly did we talk about Molly’s death. Instead, we spent the next several hours talking about our fondest memories of her. Sharon knew Molly much longer than I did, but we did work together in the same diner for almost three years. I allowed Sharon to do most of the talking, as regaling her fondest memories of Molly seemed to be making her feel a little better. I wished there was more I could do for my friend, but this was not something Sharon, not something anyone was going to get over quickly.

I noticed Sharon never mentioned the day cook having a crush on Molly, so I wondered if she even knew. The other cook, who was a few years older than me, asked Molly out on a date, but she rejected him. Although she did consider his feelings and let him down the best she could, it took him a long time to get over it. I was not going to mention that now because I did not want to begin stirring up suspicion and paranoia.

It was getting late and the sun already set behind the mountains that decorated the western horizon, and I needed to get home to get some sleep before my job began the next morning. I wanted to offer to stay the night at Sharon’s, but I figured she would ask me if she wanted my company through the night. Since she did not ask, I eventually excused myself so I could go home and get some sleep. Sharon rose from her seat and came over to give me a hug before thanking me for sitting with her during this rough time. 

Molly was the topic of conversation for most of my morning shift in the warehouses. People were speculating on who could do such a horrific thing to these young girls. Throughout the morning, I listened to and took part in conversations discussing whether this ghastly act was done by someone who was only in the park for the season or if it was possible a local resident could be doing such a thing. 

The number one suspect on everyone’s mind was Molly’s boyfriend with whom she supposedly ran off with and married. No one saw him after he and Molly both left town, and most people thought they would return after some amount of time passed. I did not think anyone was expecting things to turn out like this. 

The sheriff only had six full time deupties, so he asked the community for volunteers to help search the forest near where the other bodies were found. It was his belief that we were going to find the body of Molly’s boyfriend out there somewhere. Despite what most of the locals thought, the sheriff did not think that young man was their killer. He was sure the young man everyone suspected was a victim too. 

For the next week, volunteers helped search and rescue personnel scour the area for any sign of the young man. Cadaver dogs were brought in by the state police to assist in the search. I got the day cook at the diner to take over one of my night shifts, and I spent three days taking part in the search. My familiarity with the region made me an asset when it came to looking for lost people. 

The first and second days I assisted, I was with two other people not from around here, thus they needed to be with someone who was. On the third day, the number of volunteers dropped fairly significantly, so I ended up searching that day by myself. That was fine with me because the others did not do much other than slow me down. I could cover much more ground if I did not have to worry about someone unfamiliar with the forest and the rocky terrain. 

Unfortunately, after an entire week of searching, nothing else was found. Thank goodness no other bodies were found, but that did not mean there were not still more out there. It was a large park, and our town was at the edge of the mountains. There were plenty of places out there where someone could hide a body and it never be found. That was why a lot of the locals did not think it was someone from here. Someone familiar enough with the terrain could hide a body so that it would never be found. 

The news media began calling the killer ‘the South Point Strangler’ after the area in which the first two bodies were found. With only two more weeks before the tourist season began, the people of my small town began to worry that all this bad news coverage was going to destroy the seasonal economy on which we depended so desperately. 

The town continued to get ready for the busy season hoping we would see the influx of people that we saw every year around this time. Some tourists already began to arrive, and the hotels were reporting typical room reservations, so we held out hope that the South Point Strangler was a tourist from last season who would never return. 

As the next few weeks progressed, we saw business return to the area like we did every year at this time, so it did not appear the news of the three deaths deterred anyone from taking their annual vacations. I continued to work as the evening cook at the diner and in the mornings working at the warehouses, but I took a break from my job in the lawn care industry for the season. I always got more hours at the diner during the busy season, and the job at the warehouse paid the best. This was nothing unusual, and the owner of the lawn care service knew to expect this. 

Just when everyone thought things returned to normal, some hikers made another gruesome discovery. This sent shockwaves through our community as we tried to downplay the seriousness of the situation to the outsiders. More bodies meant the killer returned or never left. If the latter case was true, then it was probably someone inside our tight knit community. The idea it could be someone from town killing these young ladies caused paranoia to spread amongst the residents. People began to suspect anyone and everyone they did not know well. 

Unlike the previous bodies found, which underwent significant decomposition, these girls were not dead for more than a week. The sheriff hoped to find some evidence as to the identity of the killer with these girls that was lost because of the condition of the other bodies. Examiners from the Federal Bureau of Investigation arrived to help with the autopsies and to search the bodies for any clue that might lead them to the killer. 

After the discovery of Molly’s corpse, Sharon had me walk her home each night after we got off work at the diner. When things began to appear as if they would return to normal, I eventually stopped escorting my friend since it was a bit out of my way. Now, with the discovery of three more bodies, I did not want Sharon walking home alone. As before, she was more than happy to have the extra protection as she walked from one end of our small town to the other. 

The truth was that I enjoyed walking Sharon home from work. We worked together for nearly five years, but recently I began to have feelings for her. I made me feel good to know she felt safer with me around, and I was always looking for that chance to tell her how I felt about her. Every night I walked her home I ended up wimping out and allowing her to give me a friendly peck on the cheek before she went inside. 

Even though it was summertime, the nights here could still get cold. With the elevation of the town, and being in the foothills of the mountains, it could still get rather chilly at night. Anyone from this region knew to carry a light jacket with them if they were going to be out late into the night or early morning. Since the diner closed much later during the busy season, it was usually approaching midnight by the time we locked the place down for the night. 

Finally, one Friday evening I mustered the courage to tell Sharon how I felt. As I was walking her from work to her beautiful home, I opened up and told her I harbored feelings for her that went beyond our initial friendship. I was elated to find out she felt the same way about me, and she was waiting for me to say something to her that let her know I felt the same way about her as she did about me. 

We held hands for the rest of the walk, and when we got to her house instead of giving me a peck on the cheek, she invited me to stay over for the night. My heart leapt into my throat and I was unable to say anything for a moment. Finally, I managed to tell her I would be happy to keep her company for the night. Still holding onto my hand, Sharon escorted me into her house. I shut the door as she turned on the lights, then we turned to face each other. 

Feeling elated and terrified at the same time, I stepped forward and put my arms around Sharon’s shoulders. As I leaned in for a kiss, she closed her eyes and tilted her head. We kissed gently at first, but it turned into a kiss of passion very quickly. Eventually, Sharon pulled away from me a few inches and asked me if I would like to go upstairs. I was afraid I seemed too eager when I told her yes, I would like to go upstairs, but she did not seem to think so. If she did, she did not let on about it. Instead, she continued to hold my hand and led me upstairs to her bedroom. 

We continued kissing as we helped each other undress. When we were both down to our undergarments, Sharon tugged at my arm as she led me to the bed. Suddenly, she let go of my hand and fell back on her bed crying. She acted as if she just saw the devil himself. 

I looked at her in confusion, not understanding what threw her into sudden hysterics. That was when I looked down and saw the multiple rope burns crisscrossing the skin on the underside of my right arm. 

“You,” Sharon said through her tears, “you are the strangler, aren’t you?” 

As I reached down and retrieved a ball of hemp twine out of my jacket pocket, I looked to her and said, “Yes, I am.” 

Sharon pleaded for her life as I stepped toward her with the ball of twine in hand. 

“I really liked you,” I told her calmly, “We really could have had a future together, but you had to go and figure it out.” 

Copyright © 2024

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Ghost Story

Word Count: 9,523

It was my first summer after completing my freshman year in college, and I was really looking forward to the long break. I performed very well in high school, but I found some of the courses I had to take in college to be a bit more challenging. Being a straight A student in my lower levels of education, I was not going to let my grades slip now when I was attending a university. When most of my friends were going out on the weekends, I spent my time in my dorm room studying. 

Several of my college friends along with my best friend since childhood planned a camping trip for the second week of summer break. After some debate over where we would spend our time in the wilderness, we finally decided on an extremely bendy area of the Roanoke River about twenty-five miles south of the Blue Ridge Mountains. This part of the river created a large body of water known as the Smith Mountain Lake.

My old buddy Calvin owned a van, which was the only vehicle any of us owned that would accommodate us all. Altogether there were seven of us embarking on this trip to this place none of us ever visited before. Calvin and I rode up front, our girlfriends rode in the center seat along with our friend Monica. Then there was Monica’s boyfriend and Donavan, a jock who for some reason liked to hang around with the oddballs such as myself,  seated in the back. 

The lush summer-green trees and vegetation lining the road provided us with a beautiful ride as we drove along the winding road. The scent of wildflowers was strong in the air, which seemed so fresh and clean after spending a little short of a year in a big city. I grew up in the country, so living in a concrete jungle very much put me out of my element. Being back in the openness of nature felt much more like home to me. 

We laughed and joked as the green brush on the side of the road rushed past us, but before we reached our destination several of us needed to use the facilities. If it was only the guys there would not be much of a problem, but until we got to our campsite, the girls refused to squat in the bushes to pee. 

We had not passed any sort of business for almost an hour, so we hoped that meant we were going to find something soon. To our relief, we located an old country gas station no more than ten minutes after the girls began to complain constantly. The building was painted white, but it did not look like anyone ever once bothered to wash it. 

The steps leading up to the porch upon which rested an ice machine, a cricket box and an aquarium of sorts containing hundreds of minnows, were dry exposed wood. The steps were probably painted at one time, but now they were worn smooth. The sun baked the wooden planks to a light grey tone. 

Calvin, Donavan and I went in first to ask if they had a restroom available. Unfortunately for the ladies, the only place they had for someone to relieve themselves was an outhouse behind the store. Donavan and I went to break the bad news to the girls while Calvin, the only one of us over the age of twenty, purchased several cases of beer to drink when we got to our camp. 

None of the girls wanted to use the outhouse, but they really did not have much choice if they did not want to have to pee in the bushes. Calvin escorted the ladies to the back of the building while I started grabbing bags of ice for the beer and to replace the melted ice in our food coolers. We even had one cooler we brought with us for nothing other than to store additional ice. 

By the time Calvin and I finished loading the ice chests with beer and ice, Donavan and the girls were returning from their first experience using an outhouse. Once we got loaded back into the van, the girls did nothing but complain about how disgusting the experience was. It was going to be interesting to see how these city girls handled a week out in the forest. 

I was so glad when we finally hit the dirt road that was to take us to the area in which we planned to set up camp. Smith Mountain Lake was dotted with countless small islands and the mainland covered with creeks and waterways connected by a multitude of bridges. Several of them looked less like bridges and more like a colony of termites holding hands. Donavan, who was the one who knew about this remote camping spot, assured us the bridges were plenty strong enough to hold the weight of the van. 

Putting his trust in our new friend, Calvin slowly began to creep the van over the first of the rickety looking bridges. Just as Donavan said, the bridges seemed solid enough to safely bear our weight as we crossed. I lost track of how many bridges we crossed all together. There were six or seven larger bridges, but some of them were almost indistinguisable from the sandy road.

The last bridge took us out to a small island about a hundred feet or so from shore. As we expected, there was no one else out here in this remote location. We had the whole island to ourselves. Before we decided where we were going to set up our tents, we decided to have a walk around the island first. It was not large, and it only took us a little more than an hour to walk the distance of its entire coast. 

We found three previously used camping areas, but the grass grew high in the clearings and tree branches lay on the ground. The second camping area we found appeared to need the least amount of preparation before we could begin erecting our tents. The girls got busy collecting and stacking the branches to be used as firewood as the three guys walked back to the van to begin carrying everything back to where we would be sleeping. 

It took four trips for us to get all the coolers and the rest of the things we would need for the night, and I was ready to hit the sleeping bag early. I did not want to seem like I could not handle myself, so I stayed up for the next few hours after setting up our tents to have a few beers. 

Everyone but Calvin and me could not help but marvel at the near infinite number of stars in the sky as most of them spent their entire lives in a city. Calvin and I were country boys, so although we did find the view of the sky to be quite spectacular, we did not marvel at its wonder as did the others. As everyone grew intoxicated, the conversations turned to discussing the possibility of aliens from one of those hundreds of trillions of stars making contact with us. 

We allowed the fire to burn down a bit before we all climbed into our tents for the night. My girlfriend and I had identical sleeping bags, so we were able to zip them together into one large sleeping bag so we could cuddle during the night. Both of us wanted to do a little more than cuddling, but at this point we were too drunk and too exhausted for sex. Instead, we fell asleep snuggled together in each other’s arms. 

I woke up sometime during the night with an urgent need to empty my bladder. Climbing out of the sleeping bag as carefully as I could, I quietly unzipped the flaps of the tent. After putting on my shoes, I crawled outside and found our fire was nothing but a smoldering pile of coals. Not wanting to waste any time, I walked about fifty feet away from our camp and relieved myself against a tree. 

As I was finishing up and putting myself back into my shorts, I could hear the sound of a cowbell off in the distance. I was not sure how far away it was, but I was sure it was not on the island. It seemed to be coming from some way beyond the coastline. It was difficult to tell because of the echo on the water, but I was positive it was not coming from the interior of the island. 

I probably stood there for a minute or two listening to the bell slowly ringing before it finally came to an end. I guess I must have stood there for another minute or two listening for the sound resume before returning to my tent. I managed to crawl back inside the sleeping bag without waking my girlfriend and was back to sleep almost immediately. 

When I woke up the next morning, it was much colder out than I would expect for a summer morning, but I supposed it could be a result of the breeze coming off the water. Donavan was already awake, and Monica and her boyfriend returned from the forest shortly after I climbed out of my tent. Seeing the two of them returning made me notice the pressure in my bladder, so I went back to the same tree against which I relieved myself last night. 

I got back just in time to escort my girlfriend back into the woods so she could go to the bathroom as well. Even though the sun was out, and we were the only ones on the island, she was afraid to go past the tree line alone. That was okay. I was her boyfriend, and it was my place to keep her safe. 

Someone got some limbs and sticks piled up on the still smoldering coals and had a small fire burning by the time we returned. Calvin’s girlfriend took care of putting some butter and jelly on some loaf bread for us as Donavan cooked a cast iron skillet full of scrambled eggs for our breakfast. Even though it was nothing more than scrambled eggs, something about cooking food over a wood fire made it taste so much better. 

After breakfast my girlfriend and I cleaned the pan and the few other dishes we dirtied while the paper plates and paper towels we simply tossed into the fire. Once we had our campsite tidied up and the non-burnable trash collected in a garbage bag, Calvin, our girlfriends and I went to a small cove to do some fishing while the others found a nice spot to swim and lounge around the shore. 

It was a very relaxing day for everyone. We managed to catch quite a few fish, so we fired up the propane burner we brought for heating up the fryer oil. That night, instead of having hotdogs roasted over the fire as we originally planned we ate the fresh, fried fish instead. 

After dinner, Donavan handed beers out to everyone while Monica pulled a couple of joints out of her purse. We jokingly gave her a hard time, calling her things like a ‘bogart’ and such for holding out on us. She shrugged her shoulders and told us she did not have enough to smoke the whole time we were here, so she decided to save it for the evenings. 

Calvin, shaking his head and smiling said, “I guess there was not much point in me rationing what I had then now was there.” 

Everyone had a bit of a chuckle over that as Monica lit one of the joints and passed it off to her left. As we passed the first joint around the circle, Donavan asked if we wanted to hear a ghost story. We replied with several ‘ooo’s,’ ‘oh no, it’s going to get us’ and such before we stopped joking and allowed our large friend to tell his story. 

It began like any other ghost story. It was a hundred years ago today, on this very island. A man was accused of abducting and killing several children, but after an extremely short trial, the court found him not guilty. The furious parents of the town drug the man from his house and beat him to the brink of death before wrapping him in the curtains from the windows of his home. Several of the men carried his body, thinking the man was already dead, to a fishing boat. 

The men rowed the boat out beyond the islands along the shore of the lake. After wrapping the accused man tightly with a thick hemp rope they had in the boat, the men tossed their still breathing victim into the water. As the man sank into the depths of the lake, the long rope continued to reel out of the boat until the end, which was tied to a large cowbell. The bell made a loud clang that echoed all across the lake and was heard miles away. 

For about fifteen minutes I sat there and listened with interest as Donavan told his story. I took in the tale with amusement until he mentioned the sound of the cowbell echoing across the water. Instantly I jumped out of shock, scaring everyone around the campfire out of their seats. 

Everyone thought I lurched upward to startle them, and Donavan was more than a little irritated that I interrupted his story. My heart was racing as I could hear the sound of that bell echoing off the water last night as if I heard it only seconds ago. When the shock wore off, everyone started laughing but me. 

Pointing to Donavan I said, “You only said that about a cowbell because you heard that one last night didn’t you?” 

Donavan looked at me in confusion. Shrugging his shoulders and holding up the palms of his hand, Donavan replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about man.” 

“You heard that cowbell last night didn’t you?” I insisted as much as I inquired. 

“Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donavan said with a bit of seriousness. 

Donavan then asked me to explain what I was talking about, so I did. I told them about having to get up during the night to urinate. I tried to be careful not to wake my girlfriend up as I climbed out of the tent. After I finished taking care of my business, I heard that cowbell echoing over the water. 

Everyone but Donavan began to laugh at me for being so scared over a ghost story. I was adamant about what I heard, but my companions continued to make fun of me. I finally had enough of their razzing and got up from the fire and walked away. I know what I heard, and I was not just going to sit there as they made fun of me. 

My girlfriend got up to come after me, but I could hear my old friend Calvin say, “I got it,” 

A few seconds later I heard his footsteps running up behind me. “Hold up man,” he called out to me. 

I ceased my stomping and waited for him to catch up to me. 

“Come on man,” he said in a calm friendly tone. “They were just playing with you.” 

Explaining to Calvin that I would not care if they were laughing at me because I was joking, but I was not joking. I was dead serious about hearing that cowbell resounding over the lake last night. After a few minutes of talking it over with my old friend, the two of us made our way back to the campsite.  

When we got back, my girlfriend stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was not expecting them to, but the others apologized for giving me such a hard time about being scared by the ghost story. I wanted to explain to them again, I was not scared by the ghost story. I was freaked out about hearing that bell clanging in the middle of the night last night, but I was afraid reviving that topic would only cause the joking to resume. Not wanting any more aggravation from the others, I dropped it and let the conversation move on to something else. 

We stayed up later in the night than on the previous day, and it was shortly after one o’clock in the morning when we all began to adjourn to our tents. Monica, her boyfriend and Donavan sat outside a bit longer than the rest. They tried to keep the noise down, or they intended to keep the noise down, but they were all three quite intoxicated at this point. 

I was about to get up and ask them to keep it down when the sound of that loud cowbell echoed over the water several times then came to a stop. This time we all heard it, but everyone thought it was the three of them still up trying to scare us all. That was everyone but me. The bell sounded just like it did last night. There were several loud clangs that rang out across the water and then silence. 

My heart pounded in my chest as I yanked open the sleeping bag and burst from the tent. I think I scared my girlfriend more than the bell scared me. Donavan, Monica and her boyfriend were standing in silence, staring out over the water. I wanted to accuse one of them of making the noise because I so desperately wanted it to be something I could quickly blame on someone and go back to bed. 

They just stood there, staring out over the water. Calvin asked them what it was and if they saw anything. He had to ask them a second time before Donavan turned and gave Calvin a look that sent a chill down everyone’s’ spines. It appeared as if he just gazed into the mouth of hell. 

“We-we saw a boat coming,” he said, but this was followed by a long pause. 

Eventually, Monica’s Boyfriend continued, “It was right there. We saw it come in twenty feet, then the bell clanged. The boat, it tore apart and vanished.” 

We all wanted to laugh, we all wanted to pretend this was a joke, but the seriousness in the air kept everyone silent. The stillness betrayed the rush of cold air that seemed to wash over the island. We watched the flames from the fire flicker and the coals glow as if a wind blew over us, but none of us could feel the air move. 

“I want to go; I’m ready to leave,” my girlfriend said through her fear. 

I wanted to agree with her, but there was no way we were going to find our way along that road and all those bridges in the dark. We would probably end up driving the van into a creek, stream or other waterway we could not see without the sun. As much as we all hated to, we were going to have to spend the night where we were and leave in the morning. 

We let the ladies lay down in the van, and the four guys sat outside watching. I told the others to try to get some sleep, but I did not think I was going to get any sleep of my own. We only had around four to five hours before the morning sun would begin to illuminate the horizon, but it felt like we sat there for a week. Donavan drifted off to sleep for a short time, but less than an hour before dawn, we heard a loud crashing sound reverberating off the water and across the island. 

It sounded like a house being torn asunder in a sudden and extremely violent action. The clamor of shattering timbers was clear as we thought something was coming across the island for us. The girls started screaming, but Calvin managed to get them quiet. All four of the guys picked up whatever they could to use as either an offensive or defensive weapon, which primarily consisted of rocks and heavy branches. 

We stood in the silence that followed until the sky began to brighten as the moring sun crested above the horizon. There was nothing damaged that we could see, but we were so sure it sounded like something gigantic tearing through the forest. The instant the sun itself broke above the horizon line, we all loaded the van, climbed inside, and began driving along the obscure road we took to get here. Everyone was looking for downed timbers in the road, beside the road, or anywhere from which that awful noise came. 

It was not until we reached the far side of the island that we found what made that explosion of timbers we heard. The bridge that spanned the one hundred feet wide canal separating us from our route to the mainland was torn to splinters. I could not imagine what could have destroyed such a solid bridge as this and leave it as nothing more than small chunks of wood and a carpet of splinters covering the ground and the surface of the water. I could not believe my eyes. There was no way we were going to get across in the van now, but no one wanted to approach the water on foot. 

We sat there helpless to do anything about the current situation. Our only choice was going to be to cross the water by swimming from one side to the other. It was not that much of a swim, but everyone was terrified of what might be in the water waiting for us. I did not know if I believed Donavan’s ghost story, but there was something far beyond the normal taking place here, something that was scaring the hell out of us all. 

Donavan, Monica’s boyfriend, and I eventually climbed out of the van to take a closer look and assess our situation. I held out hope there would be sufficient debris to provide us with enough of a crossing to get out of here with the van. Calvin waited in the vehicle with the motor running as the three of us tried to find a way across. 

It did not take long to see there was no way we were going to get the van to the other side of the gap, but we thought we might be able to walk across it enough to avoid having to swim in through the still, splinter covered water. Slowly, we continued to approach the water while trying to keep an eye out for whatever tore this bridge apart like it was made of paper. Although we were trying to stay together, Monica’s boyfriend appeared to be the least terrified as he pushed forward faster than Donavan and I felt comfortable. 

Monica’s boyfriend took a close look in the stagnant water and told us it looked like several of the beams that once spanned this gap appeared intact enough to support our weight as we crossed. I turned around to walk back and tell the others what we found. I only took two, maybe three steps when I heard the sound of a cowbell clanking behind me. 

I could see a look of absolute terror on Calvin’s face as he sat in the van watching in our direction. Monica began screaming as I quickly whipped back around to see what was happening. A three-inch diameter hemp rope rose out of the water like a giant serpent. Instead of a fanged mouth at the end of the dripping rope, there was a large cowbell rising eight feet into the air. Before anyone could do anything, the lower end of the waterlogged hemp rope wrapped itself around our friend’s ankles and quickly snaked up his legs. 

I could hear his bones shattering as the rope sinched tighter around his legs and continued up his body. The poor young man screamed in excruciating agony as the twisted hemp constricted his body. The unholy thing continued up his form until it crushed his ribcage and put an end to his screams. Donavan and I, without really thinking, ran to try to help our friend, but we only made it a few steps before the rope instantly withdrew into the water. The living cable yanked our friend to the ground and pulled him into the water before we even realized what was happening. 

In less than ten seconds it was all over. The living rope crushed our friend and drew him into the divide of water between this island and the next. Monica, screaming hysterically, threw the van door open and came running in our direction. I grabbed her as she reached me, but she fought against me so ferociously, I had to yell for Donavan to come help me. 

Monica screamed and fought because she still thought there was a chance her boyfriend could be saved. She was not out here to listen to the sound of the young man’s bones crushing under the pressure of the constricting hemp cord winding up his body. When I heard his ribs shatter and his screaming ceased, I knew he was dead. It all happened so fast, and everyone was in some degree of a state of shock. 

Donavan and I carried Monica, as she fought us the whole way, back to the van. The other two girls helped us get her inside, and as soon as we were all in, Calvin began to drive back down the sandy road toward the other side of the island. As soon as he could, Calvin turned the van around, threw it in drive and headed toward the center of the island at an unsafe speed. Several times he almost ran us off the road and into the trees, but soon we reached a large clearing in the center of the island. 

Monica continued to scream at us for leaving her boyfriend behind. 

“Monica,” Donavan yelled, “he’s dead. Do you hear me? He’s dead. There is nothing anyone can do for him now.” 

Monica stopped screaming as she came to the realization what Donavan told her was true. Staring at him blankly, Monica threw her arms around him and began sobbing uncontrollably. 

In frustration, Calvin beat the heels of his fists against the dashboard and yelled, “Where in the fuck did you hear that story? What the hell do you know that we don’t know?” 

Donavan, as he continued to console Monica, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I don’t know man. I heard it a couple of times when we came to the lake when I was a kid.” 

A long silence followed, then Calvin asked in a loud whisper, “How does it end?” 

Donavan did not give him an answer, and after waiting a few moments, Calvin yelled “How does it end?!” 

“What do you want me to say?” Donavan replied. “It’s a fucking ghost story. Everybody dies.” 

The silence inside the van resumed except for Monica’s sobbing. No one knew what to think. We would never have believed this happened if we did not witness it with our own eyes. 

Who could really believe something like this if it did not happen to them personally? 

“Was there anything in the story about what the ghost wanted?” I asked. “Maybe if we give it what it wants, it will let us go.” 

“No, not really,” Donavan replied. “The story just said that the ghost comes back every so often looking for the men that killed him, taking its revenge on anyone it found.” 

We were at an absolute loss as to what we should do next. The ghost story always says the thing came out of the water, so we hoped staying as far away from the water as possible might afford us some measure of protection. There were enough supplies to last us for more than a week if we rationed it carefully, but after that we were going to slowly starve to death. 

Suddenly we became aware the van was very slowly sinking into the ground, but it was sinking faster with each passing second. When Calvin pulled off the road and into the clearing, he drove us into a patch of quicksand. He leapt out of the door on the driver’s side and ran around to the other side, but he stayed ten or so feet away from the van since he did not know where the quicksand began. 

First Donavan jumped out, then I began to help the ladies jump as far from the van as they could. Sand was beginning to seep into the open doors of the vehicle by the time I finally tried to leap for cover. The position of the van put me at an awkward angle to try to jump any kind of distance, but I did the best I could. 

As soon as I hit the ground, Donavan and Calvin grabbed me and pulled me to safety. Standing there helpless, we watched the van along with all our food and drinks sink into the ground until only a small portion of the roof was visible. We did not even have our fishing equipment any longer, not that anyone would get close enough to the water to fish. Our supplies and equipment were all gone. The only things we had left were what was attached to our belts or in our pockets. 

My girlfriend suggested we move back onto the road. There we at least knew the ground was solid and would not swallow us as it did Calvin’s van. Realizing she was probably right, we trotted back onto the road as quickly as we could. We only ran a short distance, but we were all winded when we reached our destination. This hopeless situation took a toll on us physically as well as mentally. 

With our things all gone, we were not going to last more than a few days if no sort of rescue came. We debated and argued over what we should do next. I know no one wanted to be anywhere near the water, but if we got close enough to the shore, we might be able to flag down a ski boat or some fishermen. Calvin’s girlfriend pointed out the fact we may be putting anyone who came to rescue in danger, but the rest of us were willing to take that risk. 

It was approaching midday, and none of the guys had any sleep since the night before. We decided we needed to take turns sleeping, only one or two of us at a time, before we did anything else. Exhausted as we were, we knew we had to rest before we did anything else. I hated to waste the time, but I knew the others were correct. 

I did not think I would be able to sleep, but in my languid state I fell into a slumber rather quickly. My girlfriend woke me after I slept for five hours. Calvin and his girlfriend laid down and went to sleep about an hour before I awoke. Once I was up and lucid, Donavan laid down near the other two and went to sleep. 

It was decided as I slept that we would wait until morning before walking to the far side of the island to try to signal for help. We had to get some sleep, there was no getting past that. If we were to start walking along the road once everyone was awake, we would not reach the shore until dark. The light obviously offered us no more safety than the night, but at least in the daytime we could see. 

After everyone had a chance to get a little sleep, we took turns again sleeping during the night. We all listened and waited to hear the clanging of that tarnished copper cowbell, but the night came and went without us hearing anything more than the sounds of the nocturnal animals filling the still air. 

The next morning it was decided Donavan and I would walk back down the road to our campsite in an attempt to signal for help. I embraced my girlfriend and told her we would be back as quickly as we could. She was doing her best to fight away the tears, but I could see the fear and sadness in her eyes. I did not want to leave her, but if there was any hope of getting off this island, we had to try. 

The overgrown road was much longer than I remembered it being, and the sandy surface made walking even more strenuous than it already was. It took us nearly an hour before we were able to see out over the water. To our dismay, we saw no boats on the water. It was still only seven in the morning, so we held out hope someone would be out on the lake soon. 

I still had my cigarette lighter in my pocket and my survival knife on my belt. Donavan and I decided to start a fire, and once we got it going we could throw green limbs and leaves on it to make it smoke. Our hope was someone would see the plume of smoke and come to see what it was. 

When we rounded the bend and saw our vacated campsite, Donavan and I both became excited when we saw we accidentally left the cooler containing the beer and other drinks behind. We might not have any food, but at least we were not going to die of thirst. First, we wanted to get the fire started. After that we would retrieve the cooler and carry it back to the road. 

It was not difficult to find enough dry wood to get a large fire started. We needed the fire to be larger before we began to feed the green foliage into it, so we continued to seek out and pile dry wood onto the blaze. With my back turned to the water, I saw a long slender shadow growing on the ground. Instantly I turned to see that haunted bell rising straight into the air at the end of that waterlogged hemp rope. 

I yelled to Donavan to run as I began sprinting to the forest line as quickly as possible. Donavan paused for a moment to gaze at the evil thing before he started to run. Before he could move, the bell began to fall from the sky at an angle bringing it far onto the shore. Bursting through the brush at the edge of the forest, I tried to find a place to take cover. 

I heard the bell clang loudly as it struck Donavan between the shoulders. The strength of the drenched rope and the weight of the bell sent him plummeting hard to the ground. Like a coward, I hid behind a large tree as I heard my friend screaming for me to help him. I knew by now the thing was already constricting him and would drag him into the water soon. This was probably the most selfish thing I ever did in my life, but I was thankful I could not hear his bones shattering under the constriction of that rope like I did with the other fellow. 

When I could hear his screams no longer, I began to run. I did not stop running until I got back to my girlfriend and the others. Immediately they began asking me where Donavan was. As soon as I could catch my breath enough to speak, I informed them the ghostly bell got him. 

Dropping to my knees I fell to my hands and began heaving. My body wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach for it to expel. It was another five minutes before I calmed myself down enough to explain to the others what happened. I omitted the part when I hid while Donavan was crying for my help. I did not want to tell them I hid like a coward as that serpentine rope drug him into the water. There was nothing I could do, and the others understood that. Regardless, I did not want to give them the full details of Donavan’s demise. 

Crawling over to the edge of the road, I sat down and propped my back against a tree. Everyone saw how Monica’s boyfriend died, and they did not continue to probe me for any details. I could not give them many anyway since I was hiding while that devilish rope and bell drug my friend into the depths of the lake. I kept telling myself there was nothing I could do, but I could not get rid of the guilt of cowering away while Donavan begged for my help. 

Eventually I told them about the cooler we left behind containing everything we brought to drink. Donavan told us the ghost only came out when the moon was in a certain phase, so perhaps it would go away after tonight’s full moon passed. If we could only survive until the thing’s time was up, the rest of us might just make it out of here. If that phase ended up being more than a day, we were going to have to risk dying horribly before being drug to a watery grave to get that cooler. 

We were too young to die. There was so much life still left for us to live, so many things to experience, but now we were probably going to die on this small island in a lake I never heard of before this trip. It was not fair. I would not wish this gruesome fate on anyone, but we never got a chance to really live our lives. We were never going to know what it was like to have families of our own. I probably grieved the loss of the life I would never have more than I feared the death I might face in the grips of that demonic bell. 

I wished I let Donavan finish telling his story the night before last, as none of the rest of us knew how it ended. We knew everyone died, but we did not know if there was any possibility of waiting this out or not. Without realizing it, I threw my hands over my ears as I could hear Donavan in my head screaming, calling out for my help as I cowered behind a tree. 

My girlfriend dropped to her knees in front of me and asked me what was wrong. I told her the truth; I told her I could not get the sound of Donavan crying out for his life out of my head. Even though I told her the truth about that, I still did not tell them about how I hid while I let our friend die. I knew there was nothing I could do to save him, but I still feel like I should have tried. 

My girlfriend moved over to sit beside me, put her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulders. Feeling her touch gave me a renewed desire to live. At the most I figured we had two weeks we might have to wait here in the center of the island until the moon was invisible in the night sky. When the new moon came, and this phase of the lunar cycle came to an end, I hoped this nightmare would come to an end as well. 

The only way we were going to be able to wait out that time was if we retrieved the cooler from our abandoned campsite. I suddenly remembered the fire Donavan and I started, and it occurred to me that someone might still see it. I told everyone I had to go back and watch for any possible chance of rescue. I did not want to go alone, and no one else wanted to divide our numbers any further, so we all decided we would walk back down the road until we could see the lake. I was sure we could get close enough to watch for any boats without having to approach too near the water. 

Everyone was tired with hunger, but I did not know what we could eat from the land. I did not know how to forage. I knew how to fish, but getting close enough to the water to do so was out of the question for now. We were probably twenty minutes from our destination when Calvin’s girlfriend grew excited, turned, and ran about twenty feet off the road. 

Calvin was already going after her, but as soon as she stopped, she scanned around the low growing foliage. 

“Huckleberries,” she said in excitement. “There’s a whole big patch of huckleberries over here.” 

Monica, my girlfriend and I approached behind Calvin and found a fifty square foot area filled with knee high plants bearing the pea sized fruits. As much as we wanted to eat everything there, we knew we had to ration what was available until we had another source of food, so we all restricted ourselves to one handful of the delicious berries. 

At least now we did not think we were going to starve to death, but the berries would not provide our bodies with enough water to sustain us for long at all. Although we now had a source of food that could last us for a week, we still had to take the risk of falling victim to the demonic cowbell to retrieve the cooler with all our drinks. 

Once we could finally see the lake through the trees, Calvin and I told the ladies to stay where we were. Calvin and I were going to go further ahead until we had a better view of the water, but they did not want to be left behind. After arguing with them for a few minutes, we finally gave in and told the girls they could come with us. 

As we topped a small hill in the road, we could see a large ski boat speeding away from the island. Someone came to investigate the fire, and no one was there to meet them. I should have been there to meet them. I was supposed to be watching for any hope of rescue, but I ran after what happened to Donavan. 

Calvin began shouting and running toward the shore in a vain attempt to recapture the attention of the people in the boat. I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and nearly pulled him to the ground when I saw something resting on the edge of the island. That cowbell was lying on the beach motionless, waiting for us like a patient predator. I thought Calvin was going to punch me for what I did until he saw where I was pointing. 

Even if I was here to meet that boat, I did not think that bell was ever going to let us board. It used the boat as bait to try and draw us out into the open where it could crush us to death as it already did two of our friends. The damn thing allowed the people in that boat to come and go, but it was not going to let us leave. We were trapped until this thing went dormant again, which we hoped would be in no more than two weeks. 

Withdrawing a couple of hundred feet from where we currently stood, we tried and failed to think of an idea that could safely get us to the cooler and back. That horrid bell allowed that boat to come to the island and leave safely, and now it was holding our drinks hostage, using them as bait. I wished we knew how much rope lay hidden underneath the water. I knew where it was when it struck Donavan to the ground, so it had a length of at least twenty-five feet. 

We waited until an hour before the sun set, checking on the status of that hellish copper bell every so often. It never moved, but we never got within several hundred feet of it. I did not know if it was unable to sense us from where we were, if it was unable to reach that far, or both. Not wanting to be near that thing in the dark, we walked back to the patch of huckleberries where we took turns throughout the night sleeping on the sandy road. 

The next morning, we stopped off for a breakfast of small handful of huckleberries before heading back to our abandoned camping spot to see if that bell was still waiting for us. To our dismay, we found it resting only a few feet away from where we found it yesterday. The unholy thing was still waiting for us. We knew, as soon as we stepped out to grab our cooler, that living bell was going to take at least one of us. 

Turning around, we made our way back to the center of the island. If there were huckleberries here, perhaps we might find some other fruits, nuts or anything we could eat. At this point we still did not know what to do about water, but we hoped the bell might retreat back into the lake if we made it wait for us long enough. Until then perhaps we could find some fruit with a high-water content to stave off serious dehydration. 

I found some maypops at the edge of a small clearing, but there were not very many of them. I counted a total of eleven, but we did not pick any of them yet. That may have to be food for several days, so for now we left them alone. Things were starting to lean in our favor as we continued to search for food to keep us alive for the next few weeks. 

Our excitement grew exponentially when we found three wild plum trees growing in a cluster together. They were full of ripe fruit, and we ate six or seven of them each. The juicy fruit felt wonderful on my dry, parched throat, and it felt very good to get more than just a handful of berries in my belly. We continued to explore the small island for any other sources of food, but the number of plums in each tree was enough to keep us alive until the new moon arrived. 

We were getting close to the western tip of the island, and we could see water through the trees from one side to the other. Before we even got close to the shore on this end, we turned around to go back and search in the other direction. Unfortunately, the only other thing we found was a persimmon tree, but the fruit was a long way from being ripe. Anyone who ever ate a green persimmon was aware of how thirsty the extremely tart fruit could make a person. 

We did not see the small inlet on the eastern side of the island coming up from the south. It was no more than a foot wide where it ended about six feet behind where we stood. No one was expecting to encounter water from the lake this far away from the shore, so no one was really watching for it. 

By the time we even heard the clanking of the old copper bell, the rope already hooked itself around the neck of Calvin’s girlfriend. My longtime friend tried to grab his girlfriend, but as soon as he got close enough to put his arms around her, the bell and rope lifted the girl high in the air. She fought against the hemp binding her throat, but all she could do was produce a sickening, gurgling sound 

The rope dangled the girl just out of Calvin’s reach, taunting him with the life of his love. I stood there petrified as my girlfriend and Monica screamed in terror. The girl’s face was beginning to turn purple from the lack of oxygen, and her struggle against the rope sped the process. 

Calvin dropped almost to a squatting position, then leapt as high into the air as he could. He managed to grab a hold of his girlfriend’s feet, but that malicious thing jerked her out of his grasp leaving him holding nothing but her shoes. We all watched helplessly as a ripple moved up the rope, up to the girl, and whipped her body violently far above us. Her neck snapped with an audible crack, and she was dead. 

In a desire to take revenge for what he saw happen to his girlfriend, Calvin drew the knife from his belt and charged toward the thing. I knew there was no stopping him, and I also knew there was no helping him. 

I put my arms around Monica and my girlfriend and told them to run. Both of them in a state of shock continued to stand there screaming. When they did not listen to me, I yelled at them as loudly as I could for them to run. Finally, the two snapped out of the fits they were in and began to run. I could hear Calvin screaming in agony as I ran off and left yet another friend behind. I knew there was nothing I could possibly do to help him, but guilt still permeated through my soul. 

Calvin’s screams continued as we put more distance between the bell and ourselves. This time, the tarnished copper terror continued to twist and torture Calvin rather than giving him a quick death like the others. I knew that ghost was only trying to draw us back to it; it used anything it could to bait us into its trap. 

Calvin continued to scream in pain and cry out for help for more than an hour. I could see in Monica’s eyes that she was about to lose her grip on reality. I wrapped my girlfriend tightly in my arms and hummed in a futile attempt to drown out the agonized screams of my oldest friend. Up until now the ghostly bell dispatched our friends quickly, but it tortured Calvin as long as it could until his injuries finally killed him. 

When the screaming stopped, I looked up and Monica was nowhere to be seen. At some point as we listened to Calvin pleading for the thing to go ahead and kill him, Monica ran off. Neither of us were watching her as we had our faces buried in each other’s shoulders. We called out for her over and over but received no response. 

My girlfriend thought we should go after Monica, but I told her to listen to what she was saying. We had no idea which direction she went, and even if we did there was probably nothing we could do for her. My girlfriend said she did not care. She was not going to abandon our friend. There was no way we could help the others, but we could still help Monica. 

I believed Monica lost it, that the ordeal of the last few days drove her over the cliff into insanity. Suddenly, we could hear Monica screaming. It did not sound as if she were crying out in pain. It was more like she was trying to release some of her fear, frustration and anxiety. My girlfriend told me we had to go help her, but I was terrified. She gave me a look of sheer disgust before turning and running in the direction of our last surviving friend. She was probably twenty feet ahead of me before I finally mustered enough nerve to make my feet move and follow her. 

Monica did not run too far from where we were before she had to stop and rest against a tree. We called out to her as we approached, but she was not responding. Monica was no longer screaming hysterically, but she was not speaking to us either. She ran off the road a bit, so my girlfriend and I finished walking the rest of the way to her as we tried to catch our breath. 

I called out to her again as we got closer thinking perhaps in her state of temporary insanity, she did not hear us yelling out to her before. This time, I think she tried to reply, but all she did was make a disgusting guttural noise. She probably strained her vocal cords with all that screaming, and now she was not able to respond. We were no more than ten feet away from the tree against which Monica rested when she slid down the trunk and slumped to the ground. 

Immediately on the other side of her was that ghastly bell and the end of the thick, wet hemp rope. It rose into the air and poised to strike like a serpent. Out of the corner of my eye I could see blood running down Monica’s arm and dripping onto the sandy soil. I did not think we were close enough to the water for the haunted bell to reach us, but apparently it could come farther inland than it did on the previous occasions. 

I could see the rope slithering through the underbrush and fallen leaves like a python. It moved so quickly, there was no running away from it before it got us. There was only one thing I could do to prevent this thing from hell from killing me. God help me, as the thing moved in to strike like a viper, I grabbed my girlfriend and used her as a human shield. 

I heard her ribs crack as the copper bell struck her with such force it almost knocked us both to the ground. I felt my girlfriend’s body go limp as the rope began to snake around her body. I turned and ran. I ran as fast as my legs would move me until I reached the dead center of the island. I was still close to the huckleberry patch, and with me being the sole survivor, it should be enough to keep me alive until the new moon. 

When I finally came to a stop, I began to sob uncontrollably. Up to now I was only guilty of not helping people who had next to zero chance of being saved, but now I was a murderer. I took the girl I dated for the last year by the shoulders and held her in between me and what should have been my death. I did not even have the gall to spin her around so she did not see it coming. I could not bear to see the look on her face when she came to the realization of what I did, how I so gutlessly sacrificed her life to save my own. 

At least now I was safe. I was sure I could make it until the new moon came, and I was certain the thing would withdraw back into the lake and stay there until the proper phase of the moon returned. With my eyes so filled with tears, I did not see the ground around me begin to heave and slither slightly. I did not know anything was coming until two small arms burst through the surface of the soil and buried their fingers into my flesh. 

I screamed in pain as another set of decayed arms burst from the ground and grabbed my other leg tightly. I tried to pull them off me, but the small arms were too strong. A third set of child-like arms burst through the soil and grabbed me by the ankles. 

I struggled and fought with everything I had in me. I did not want to die, oh God how much I did not want to die. Suddenly I felt myself sinking. The ghoulish arms began to drag me into the ground as they dug deeper and deeper into my flesh. I screamed for help, but there was no one left to hear me. I begged and pleaded for someone, anyone to save me, but the arms continued to drag me deeper and deeper into the earth. 

The arms did not simply retreat into the ground as they pulled me deeper and deeper. They continued to reach up to dig their bony fingers into my flesh again and again as I felt the pressure of the dirt squeezing my bleeding legs. I continued to scream in agony and desperation as my mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. We knew about the murdered man, but we did not hear the part about him being innocent or of the three missing children being buried on this island. I displayed my cowardice then, and for that we never heard the rest of the ghost story. 

Copyright © 2024

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Old Country Church

Word Count: 5,802

Several friends and I, inspired by some videos we watched online, decided we were going to try our hand as amateur ghost hunting. There was an area at the end of a long-abandoned dirt road where several buildings, including two churches, still remained standing despite the fact all the other buildings there collapsed years ago.   

The ghost town was one we visited on many occasions while we were growing up, but that was always during the daytime. Although we frequented the desolate hamlet many times, none of us ever had the nerve to step inside one of the buildings. Never in all the years I lived near this long-deserted village did we ever explore the overgrown area at night. Now we decided we were going to do both.   

We planned our excursion for more than a week. Anthony came from a wealthy family, and it was not difficult for him to take several video recorders and cameras without being noticed. His parents were rarely home, and when they were home, they paid little to no attention to him.   

Terry was into music, playing guitar in a band with some of the other local teens, and he had various audio recording devices he planned to bring with us. Some of his equipment would take a little setting up once we got there, but he had several handheld recording devices for us to use as well. We would have to get out there several hours before dark to make sure we had the time we needed to get everything prepared for our night in the small, deserted town.   

I did not have much to provide as my family was not as well to do as those of my friends. One thing I did have was some good flashlights and a shotgun of my own. A gun would not do us any good if we really did encounter a ghost, but bobcats and such were known to roam the area. My shotgun would come in very handy if we were attacked by a wild animal.   

All three of us were juniors in high school, and we were waiting for this last week to come to an end. As soon as our summer break began, we wanted to play our little game of ghost hunting in the old ghost town.  We originally had our excursion planned to take place several weeks ago, but the seasonal rains ruined our plans. Since it was so close to the end of our school year, we decided to wait and do our investigating during the first week of our summer freedom.   

No one was really sure why the small collection of buildings came to be abandoned. Families who lived in the region for generations all gave differing accounts. Some people said there was a sickness, and the people of the town thought it was something in the soil. Following several deaths, the rest of the townsfolk left. Others said it was something more sinister, a curse put on the town because of some evil they committed. Another rumor said the people simply began to move away. With no one moving in, the unused buildings began to decay, driving out the remaining residents.   

Whatever the reason for the exodus of the town’s members, the crumbling buildings, small scattered trees, and tall grass made the place a creepy one to visit during the daytime. This was going to be the first time we ever went there at night. The anticipation made this last week of school pass miserably slowly, and it seemed like our vacation was never going to begin. The day finally came though, and we were already prepared to spend the night in the empty town.   

We loaded all our equipment in Anthony’s truck and drove down the long-abandoned dirt road that headed into the center of the forgotten town. It was a rough ride and there was no way my or Terry’s cars would ever make it. Being that we walked the road as many times as we had, we knew how rough it was going to be. Everything was strapped down and cushioned to prevent anything from being damaged on the drive.   

We chose a small house close to the two churches we decided previously would be a good place to set up our equipment. This house was constructed mainly using huge cedar logs and chiseled granite blocks making it probably one of the most stable buildings in this abandoned village. Most of our time would be spent in this building monitoring our equipment, so obviously we wanted to make sure we chose the safest building possible.   

Anthony set up the cameras and video recorders and Terry set up the audio equipment in the same areas, running the wiring to our computers in our base camp. From there we could monitor multiple locations at once. As they set up their equipment, I strapped my father’s hunting cams to trees on opposite sides of the village. It was not difficult to set them so they were both looking down the middle of the ghost town.   

Several hours passed as we got everything set up and working. We had to change out some of the cables after a frustrating hour of trying to figure out what was wrong with some of the connections. We did not get everything working as it should until thirty minutes before the sun set behind the tree line. I was glad we got everything working before dark. I did not want to have to bother with running cables through the grass filling the once populated roads of this old town in the dark. The task was difficult enough to pull off during the daytime; doing it at night would be incredibly frustrating.   

Our night began with all three of us monitoring the audio and video surveillance we had set up in key locations throughout the town. Terry kept an eye on the audio readings while Anthony and I watched the computer screens for any sign of movement. We could see most everything on the outside, but we only had equipment set up in two of the buildings; the jailhouse and one of the two churches.   

None of us knew what difference there was between the churches, such as the denominations or if one was for whites and one was for blacks. The two buildings were close to being identical, and the front entrance way to both were facing each other no more than twenty feet apart. We always thought that to be the most peculiar aspect of the whole town. The one notable difference between the two was one had an exterior basement door while the other was built completely above ground. 

On one side of them, and behind the churches were the remnants of the homes that once held the residents of the town. On the other side was a wide courtyard with the jailhouse being opposite of that. It was our assumption this courtyard was probably where the gallows once stood. It was the only place in this town for something as large as that, but it seemed very odd the gallows would be right in front of the two town churches. There was one camera between the rows of houses looking toward the churches and another in front of what we think was a shop of some sort. This second camera watched the courtyard ranging from the churches to the jailhouse.   

For the first hour following dark all we did was monitor the cameras and audio for anything. We were not only looking for things out of the ordinary. Our hope was to catch plenty of ordinary things to have to compare to anything we discovered outside the realm of ordinary. After that hour passed, we drew straws to see who was going to be the first one to walk around the town with a handheld video camera.   

Anthony drew the short stick and therefore had the honor of being the first one of us to walk around this long-abandoned hamlet at night. We would not be able to review the contents of the handheld camera until we could remove the memory card and place it in one of our laptop computers. Terry and I kept an eye on the multitude of night vision cameras set up around town while our friend left to take his solo walk around the grass covered roads.   

Keeping a red filter on the flashlight he was carrying so as not to interfere with the resolution of the night vision cameras, Anthony could not see very far, but it allowed him to see much better than having no light at all. Terry and I watched Anthony as he walked between the buildings, snaking up and down each passable road. We saw a few small animals on the monitors, some birds and several rabbits, but nothing that could remotely be called paranormal.   

Anthony was far beyond relieved when he finally returned to what we called our base camp. He told us about how nervous he was walking around in the dark like that, not very able to see what was around him. He said he could swear he heard some voices coming from some of the buildings as he walked past them. I took the memory card from his camera and had its contents downloaded to my computer within minutes.   

We spent the next half hour discussing what we wanted to do next. Watching through the footage Anthony captured in fast motion, we did not see anything unusual there either. This time we flipped a coin, and I was the loser. This whole expedition was initially my idea, and now I regretted ever having the thought. At first, I was sure there was nothing really out there, but I was beginning to doubt myself.   

Was I only being brave until the day finally arrived?   

Regardless of how scared I was, I could not let on to my friends or they would never let me live it down. I took the camera Anthony used on his excursion, and Terry prepared for me a small audio recording device I could carry with me. If Anthony really did hear some voices out there, we thought it might help to pick them up if I had an audio recorder with me. I really did not want to go out there walking around this place at night, but I did not feel I left myself with much of a choice.   

Stepping out of the cobblestone house we were using as a base, I walked out into the dark night. I wished we were going out two at a time, but we needed two people to watch all of the audio and visual recorders we had set up throughout the small, abandoned town. I could not even say how many times I came to this village during the daytime, but the darkness made the crumbling buildings and weed filled roads seem so much scarier.   

There was no moon shining out tonight, and the red filter on my flashlight did not allow me to see very far. The stars brightly filled the sky, but it hardly did anything to illuminate the ground. We planned for our little ghost hunting project for the darkest night we could.   

Swallowing my mounting trepidation, I started out on the preplanned walking route. Every time I heard a frog croak, or a bird take flight, I nearly jumped out of my own skin. Throughout my childhood I spent plenty of time in the woods, even during the dark hours, so I should be used to the noises of the nocturnal animals.   

Slowly strolling along the overgrown road, I scanned around the nearby buildings with my flashlight. I would feel much more comfortable without the red filter on the lens, but Anthony insisted it would blind the night-vision cameras. We spent too much time getting all that set up to go and blind everything with an unfiltered light.   

It was rather hot out, and I would prefer to be wearing shorts. Out here at night though, I was afraid of getting ticks. My jeans, thick socks and heavy boots should keep the little blood suckers off of me. If we were only spending an hour or two out there, I would not worry about it. As it was, we were going to be out here all night, and that simply gave the pesky arachnids too much time to feast until they nearly popped.   

My thoughts were interrupted when I thought I saw something moving to the left of me. Scanning around the area as best I could with the dim red flashlight, I did not see anything out of the ordinary. I was sure I saw something, but I assumed it must have been a bat fluttering down quickly to catch itself a snack. Possibly it was a moth I just happened to see momentarily out of the corner of my eye.   

Continuing my walk through the town, I tried to pay as much attention to my ears as I did my eyes. Growing up in a small rural community, I spent more time in the woods than I did at home. I trained myself years ago to pay attention to my other senses, especially when in the woods at night. There were more than a few animals out here capable of mauling and killing three young men, which is why I was so glad I brought my shotgun with me.   

Anthony did not want to carry it with him when he made his rounds, but I was not going to venture into this foreboding ghost town without some kind of protection with me. When I reached the far edge of the town, I felt like I was walking for hours. Looking down to my watch, I saw only ten minutes passed since I left the base camp.   

I began to wind my way around some of the buildings. I knew this place quite well, but it was still difficult to get my bearings. Occasionally gazing up at the stars to make sure I was heading in the right direction, I weaved my way up and down the overgrown dirt roads in much the same manner as did Anthony. Some of the roads were buried underneath debris from the buildings, logs that somehow made their way into the edge of town, and brush growth. This made it feel more like walking through a hellish maze than it did during daylight hours.   

I began to try and picture what life must have been like for the people of this small town. The oldest of the buildings were the ones that were still standing. Those were constructed from stone and large cedar logs. The newest buildings, the ones in the worst shape of all, were built sometime later from cut wooden planks. The latter just could not stand the test of time and collapsed, often falling over into the road. Thorns, vines and other vegetation grew out of the debris of these buildings, the foliage so thick in some places it completely obscured the rotting wreckage underneath.  

What really made those people abandon their town like they did? Could it really simply be a matter of all the residents moving away and no one moving back in to replace them? Was it possible it was really something sinister like a curse on the town?   

It would be impossible for me to count the number of times my friends and I discussed this. We shared all the stories we heard, and many times we added our own theories to the mix. I heard so many different tales about this crumbling place, I did not know what to think.   

Raising the handheld video recorder up to my face, I wanted to get a circular scan of the area before moving on to the next abandoned street. Walking around here in the dark watching through the eyepiece of the camera would surely get me hurt, so I only held and scanned around with it until now. I nearly dropped the expensive video camera when I thought I saw something moving in between two of the still standing buildings.   

Quickly, I removed the camera from my face to try to get a look with my naked eyes. There did not appear to be anything moving. The only thing between the two buildings was a tree whose branches shaded the roofs of both the decaying structures. Raising the eyepiece to my face once again, I examined my surroundings with the camera some more. Even with the night vision capabilities of the camera, I did not see anything between the walls of the buildings.   

My heart was racing; the rush of blood caused my ears to roar, and sparks floated in my eyes. I needed to calm myself back down, but doing so in this setting was not easy. Finally convincing myself I probably saw an owl flying behind the other side of the structures, I continued along my way. Regardless of how many times I told myself there was nothing there, I could not get past that feeling I was being watched. I tried to explain that away as Anthony and Terry watching me on the monitors.   

When I saw a light in the window of a two-story house, tilted and half covered in vines, I decided to head back to base camp. My full hour was not up yet, but I wanted to go see what was going on. We agreed when we first started planning this that only one of us at a time would be out walking around the town. It would be too easy for us to lose track of one another if two or more of us were away from base camp.   

Once the building we used to house our equipment came into view, I zoomed in with the camera I carried to see if I could see anything going on. It was too difficult to say which, but I saw one of my friends run out of the base camp heading in the direction of the house with the illuminated window. Something had to be wrong. Relying on my own eyes once again, I tried to increase my pace as much as I could without serious risk of falling and hurting myself.   

The light jog down the grass covered road felt like it took forever. As much as I wanted to get to my friends to help them with whatever was wrong, there was nothing I could do for them if I broke my leg. My whole body trembled with anxiety and panic as I reached the structure and turned into the door of the base camp. My breath was heavy and labored as I looked into the building to see both Anthony and Terry sitting there in front of the monitors. Both appeared as though they were a bit shocked over my abrupt return. Simultaneously my friends asked me why I came running back like I did.  

“When I saw someone come running out of here, I thought something was wrong,” I replied in a quivering voice.  

There was a brief pause, then in my confusion I asked them who it was that came running out of this building. Now sharing in my confusion, they both insisted there was no one else there; we were the only people in that building all night. They did not believe me that I saw someone, or something come bolting out of that door and down one of the crossroads. Despite my insistence, they simply did not believe me. They thought I was joking with them.  

They were not going to listen to me, so I took the memory card out of the camera and put it in one of the computers. Skipping ahead to the last part of the video, I showed them what I saw when I came around the corner with the camera. This time Anthony and Terry both saw the clear image of a humanoid figure appear to exit the base camp and run south down the remnants of what was once a road.  

All three of us stood there in silence for how long I could not say for certain. Almost as if on cue, all three of us looked out the door and then back to the monitor. We simply could not believe we actually caught something on camera, something that shows the image of someone who was not there. It was not there in any way we could understand.  

“M-maybe someone should go check out that light you saw,” Anthony suggested.  

“Hell no,” Terry whispered loudly. “There’s no way I am going out there by myself now.”  

I offered up the option of all three of us going to check out that leaning house. That appeared to be, at least in that direction, where the spectral image was running. Terry was worried about leaving his and Anthony’s expensive equipment unattended, but it was either we all went, or no one was going to go. No one wanted to stay behind, and no one wanted to go out there alone.  

I had no stake in the equipment, so that was not a worry of mine. We found something out here, and we knew where we could probably find it again. I insisted the equipment would be fine for the short time we would be gone. Each one of us was taking a camera and an audio recorder, so the only things we were really leaving behind were the computers.  

As we slowly walked down the road, heading south toward the house in which I saw the light, each of us scanning with night vision cameras in search for anything our eyes could not see. I remarked in a soft whisper that we would need to go back over the other footage and see if Anthony and Terry missed anything on the monitors. Surely if my camera caught the image, so did the others. Neither one of them answered me, but that was probably because they were too scared to speak.  

I had my shotgun tucked under my arm. The barrels were loaded but the chamber was not closed. I do not know what I thought it was going to do against a ghost, but I felt a small measure of security having it with me. I wished my friends were armed as well, but neither of their fathers hunted, so neither did they. I was the only one of the three of us who owned his own gun.  

I thought I heard Terry whisper something to me from my right side, but I could not hear what he said. I got much closer to him and asked him what he was saying. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, very quietly telling me he did not say anything. I was sure I heard him say something, but I let the matter go. We were only a block away from the leaning house when I asked him what he said. I did not want to continue talking if I did not need to.  

Thus far we did our best to stay as near the middle of the road as we could, but when we approached the leaning house, we veered in a little closer. I was walking in the center, more focused on holding my shotgun at the ready than looking through the camera. There was no longer a light on inside, at least not that we could see. I did not believe a light as bright as I saw earlier could be glowing and us not see it, even from outside.  

Positioning ourselves in line with the front door of the tilted building, we slowly and cautiously made our way forward. At this point I had the barrels of my shotgun closed and ready to fire if necessary. It was difficult for me to carry my gun and look through the eyepiece of my camera at the same time. I wished took a camera with a display screen and not an eyepiece, but we were afraid this would produce too much illumination and give away our position. Using the night vision cameras seemed to be the only way to see the specters that appeared to roam the ruins of this old ghost town.  

The doorway was quite narrow, and the building looked as if it could fall at any moment. With the mass of vines covering nearly half the structure, I am surprised it remained standing this long. With speed that bordered on the edge of stillness, we slowly crept forward, everyone watching with their cameras for anything out of the ordinary. The doorway was narrow, so if we were going to go inside, we would have to do so single file. At this point I really wished my friends were armed as well, because the gun should probably go in first. There would be no room to step past anyone to shoot otherwise.  

It was not easy trying to keep my shotgun at the ready while holding the camera up to my face. The floor was a lot more solid than I expected it to be. It appeared the first story of this building was constructed from cedar logs, and perhaps the upper level was added later using cut wooden planks rather than logs. While the top of the house was obviously leaning, the lower floor seemed to retain its form.  

I was happy when my friends entered the building with me. For at least a little while I was going to have to rely on what they could see and strapped the camera around my arm. It was much easier for me to hold the flashlight and keep a proper grip on my firearm than when trying to hold the digital video camera. As dark as it was in the building, the red filtered light provided me with plenty of light to see.  

At one time this was probably a very nice home, even for its time. Cobwebs filled the entrance room and dust coated the hardwood floors. There were still paintings on the walls and decorations on the mantel, like whoever lived here fled and left everything they owned behind. Although the paintings, upholstery on the furniture and leather chairs all succumbed to the ravages of time, the overall structure seemed to be quite sound. I turned my shotgun toward the ceiling and was about to tell one of them to lead the way into the next room when they both ran.  

They did not shout out any warning to me at all, they just turned and ran. It took me a few more seconds to react since they gave me no warning. By the time I turned towards the door, I saw both of them disappear down the old dirt street. When I started to run, something caught my left heel and pulled me hard to the ground. I tried to get back to my feet, but this unseen force instantly pulled me back to my face. When the thing began to drag me into the other room, I almost lost my shotgun. Scrambling as I was being dragged across the dusty room, I managed to gain a grip on the butt just as I was almost out of range.  

When I again came to a stop, I tried to get back to my feet. This time I felt something pressing on my back, like someone’s large booted foot was holding me down. I tried to plead for help or mercy, but the dust stirred as I dragged across the ground choked me and made it impossible to speak. Something grabbed my hair and pressed my face into the splintery floor.  

“They went off and left you,” I heard a hissing voice say into my ear. The hate and malice inside the voice was more than obviously apparent, and it made my bones turn cold with terror. “Friends? They left you to die.”  

Suddenly the pressure on my back vanished and I no longer had anything holding my face to the ground.  

I scrambled to my feet and ran out of the building as fast as I could. When I reached the grass and brush covered road, I could see my so-called friends in our base camp. It looked like they were trying to get the equipment together so they could leave. They were more worried about taking their precious computer equipment with them, but they did not care if they left me behind to die. Whatever tossed me around in that dark room surely had the strength to rip me apart, and they left me there.  

A scowl covered my face as I began to walk towards the two people I never thought would leave me behind. Anthony and Terry were my friends since we were in the first grade, and when I was absolutely reliant on them to tell me if anything was coming, they fled and did not say a thing. Moving at a rapid pace, I managed to keep a solid footing even though I paid no attention to what was right in front of me.  

When I was about fifty feet away from the base camp, I raised my shotgun and planted the butt firmly in the socket of my shoulder. Rage filled me as I thought about that melevolent force pulled me to the ground and drug me through the house. Pain from the splinters burned my stomach and chest, and I was not going to let these two get away with it.  

Anthony was the first to see me. Initially he looked relieved, but then he saw the gun I had pointed directly at his chest. He began to explain that they did not know what to do, and they were so glad to see me okay. Although it was very hard for me to accept it, I can understand how they would feel completely helpless in that situation.  

“Do you know what I could have done to you,” that sinister voice whispered seductively in my ear. “DO YOU!”  

When that thing spoke to me again, the burning fury and hatred filled my soul once more. They were not going to get away with abandoning me and leaving me to whatever horrible fate awaited me. When that voice again shouted in my ear, I raised my shotgun and pulled the trigger. I watched Anthony’s sweatshirt tear open as the shot ripped at the flesh and bone in his chest.  

I let his lifeless body crumple to the ground, and as soon as I had an opening, I let the second blast hit Terry in the lower chin and throat. The blast nearly severed his head from his body. Somehow, he managed to remain standing for a few seconds as his blood sprayed the inside of the base camp.  

As Terry’s body finally toppled backwards, I quickly reached down and grabbed the camera Anthony dropped on the floor when I put a large gaping hole in his chest. Reluctantly raising it to my eye, I looked into the room in which the bodies of my former friends lay. Hunched over Anthony’s body was something, but what I could not say. It was not human, and I did not think it was a ghost because it did not look like it was ever human. The body was narrow, and its limbs extremely long. It glowed brightly under the night vision of the camera, and I was sure I could see what looked like fur outlining its body. The unholy creature had large eyes, and a gaping maw full of needle-like teeth.  

“A-are you going to kill me now?” I inquired of the inhuman beast, my voice wavering as I tried to make myself breathe.  

The invisible entity grabbed Terry by the foot, and using its other massively oversized hand, took Anthony by the head and started dragging them toward the door. I stepped out of its way to give it plenty of room, and when I did, I lowered the camera. There I saw my former friends’ bodies being taken away by some unseen force. I raised the camera back up to my head in time to see it turn and look back at me.  

“You brought me these, so you can go,” it said. “I will let you live, but you can never tell anyone what you saw here.”  

Every word the ghastly beast spoke stoked the flames of my anger, my rage. I was glad to see him dragging away the bodies of those two cowards who left me for dead. It was not only what the creature said. There was some power, some energy that increased my hate for those two beyond the scope of normal human emotion. 

I knew from the tone of the creature’s words that this was not just a warning. It was telling me if I ever revealed what happened here tonight, it was coming for me next. Already once having the honor of feeling the super-human strength of this thing as it tossed me around like a rag doll, I took its warning very seriously. 

I was furious my friends made me kill them like that, I was furious that thing was dragging them away, and now I was furious I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison for this. I considered taking my own life as I watched their bodies drag away into the night. That was when I glanced down and noticed the drag marks from the two corpses the demonic thing carried began to fade away. I turned to look around the base camp only to find the massive amounts of blood that spilled from the large wounds I gave my friends appeared to be absorbing into the walls and floors. It was as if the events were somehow covering up what happened. 

Around the doorway of the base camp and beyond my footprints began to disappear. Now I finally knew what happened to this town. The invisible demon coaxed the people into killing one another. Those it let leave the town, it made sure to keep quiet. As was the situation with me, those people whose life it spared never told anyone what happened here. We were all afraid that, if we even uttered one word about it, the creature would take its revenge. That eldritch being told me it was letting me go, and it did. Before retrieving my trail cameras and walking through the forest to go home, I watched the thing that haunted this town for centuries drag the two lifeless bodies into the basement of that old country church. 

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Man in the Attic

Word Count: 9,011

The community in which I spent my childhood years was old to say the least. Some of the houses surpassed two hundred years in age, and many of the trees were even older. Old, faded red brick roads lined with flagstone curbs still dominated the area as opposed to the few newly paved streets found nearby. Venerable oak trees located in most every yard provided the entire area with a cool shade during the hot summers and helped shield the wind during the cold winters. 

As children, we probably spent more time playing in the thick sturdy limbs of those trees than we did romping around on the ground. The massive trunks supported thick limbs that were the perfect climbing places for young children enjoying the freedom of a summer out of school. We played spaceship, we played submarine, we played just about everything our active imaginations could conjure in the branches of those trees. 

A few of the kids in the area had treehouses, but the absolute best climbing tree was in a vacant lot across from “the house.” I cannot account for other neighborhoods, but ours had that one house all the kids spun curious rumors about while at the same time all were afraid to approach. During most daylight hours, and even somehow in the dark one could see the man sitting at the attic window. 

No one ever saw the man get up or return; he was either there or he wasn’t. Even before I was allowed to venture beyond the boundaries of our yard on my own, I heard the other kids tell stories about “the house” and the strange man at the window. Some children said it was not a man at all, that it was in fact a ghost. Other children said he was a prisoner the family trapped in the attic, but the most popular story was the man at the window was once a patient at a mental hospital. Variations in the story said he escaped or that his family broke him out of the institution. Now they kept their insane relative locked in the attic of that massive three-century old home. 

I remember the first time I was allowed to leave our street without my parents’ supervision, the first thing I wanted to do was go see this spooky man in the window all the kids gossiped so constantly about. Around the corner and a few blocks away, some of the neighborhood kids were gathering together for a squirt gun war. We were all to meet around the largest oak tree in the neighborhood, at the tree in the lot across from “the house.” 

Arriving to find no one in the attic window, I was more than a little disappointed. All my life I heard these other kids talking about the strange man, possibly an apparition in the attic of this magnificent dwelling, and I arrived to find nothing. I wanted to ask the other kids, but I was afraid I might get teased about it if I brought up the subject. 

More than a month passed, and yet still I never saw the man in the attic window. I really began to believe he was nothing more than a myth some of the neighborhood kids cooked up to scare the younger kids. From what the others said, it made it seem like he was there almost all the time. We only had two weeks of summertime left when I finally got my first look at the man in the window. 

There did not seem to be anything particularly striking about him one way or another. I was still a small child, so I could not provide any sort of accurate judgement of his age. Everyone high school age and up looked like adults to me. I could not see his face well enough to see if he had wrinkles, but I was able to make out his graying hair. His hair was long – it was considered long for that period in time at least – and looked like it had not been brushed in weeks. 

Everything about him seemed normal to me from where I was standing. He stared out the window; I am presuming he was looking at the tree in the vacant lot as that seemed to be where he had his gaze fixed. I continued to watch the man in the window, but when he turned his gaze on me cold chills ran throughout my body. 

There was something about that gaze that terrified me. It felt like he was reaching into my imagination pulling forward every fear I knew. I wanted to run, but all I could do was stand there and stare back. I wanted to get away from this street, but it felt like my feet were rooted to the ground. When faced with this fight or flight situation, I instinctively chose the third option and did nothing. 

The blank look on the man’s face reminded me of how my uncle looked laying in a casket at the funeral home last spring. I watched him turn his head to look at me, but there did not look like he had any life in his eyes. I may have stood there for minutes or hours as time seemed to stop the instant the man looked at me. 

Finally, I was able to break free from the spell the man had on me, and I ran as fast as I could all the way home. I cut through the next-door neighbor’s yard where he had the sprinkler out watering his lawn. More than a few times I was told to stay out of their sprinkler, but I was not outside playing this time. I was terrified out of my mind and running for the safety of home. 

My mother was there when I got home, but she was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Without saying a word, I ran up the hardwood stairs up to my bedroom. Grabbing my favorite stuffed animal, a black and brown dog, I jumped into my bed and held my Doggy tightly against my chest. 

A few minutes later there was a light knock at my door. It was my mother asking me if I was okay. I told her I was fine, but she opened the door and stepped in to check on me anyway. I was afraid I would get in trouble if I told her the truth, so every time she asked me what was wrong, I told her I was fine. Eventually she told me if I needed to talk, she would be downstairs in the kitchen. 

As a child, I did not realize I was clearly showing my mother everything was not okay by the way I sat in my bed holding Doggy. Young minds do not think of things like this, so I thought I pulled something over on Mom. I did not think then of how much body language can reveal about someone. My mother knew something was wrong with me, but she knew pushing me only made me grow quieter and more withdrawn. 

The rest of the summer I avoided the part of the neighborhood with “the house.” If the other kids were playing in the vacant lot, I found something else to do. I was not sure what it was that terrified me so, but taking the chance of that man in the attic looking at me was not something I was willing to risk. It did not take me long to realize I was not the only one afraid to go to that block anymore. None of the other kids said they were afraid of the dead-eyed man, but the fact they never played around there told me they were as scared of him as I was. 

In the immediate neighborhood, the road in front of that house was the one with the least amount of traffic. Like most of the north to south roads in the area, this road was still the original granite cobble stone surface. Both made this a desirable place for children to want to play. 

The leaves were beginning to change color before my fear of that man in the window began to subside enough that I was able to go and play on that block again. I tried not to, but virtually every time I turned toward that house, my gaze instantly darted up to that attic window. As all the kids played on or around that ancient oak tree in the vacant lot allowing our imaginations to take us to faraway places, I could not help but constantly wonder if that man was at the window. 

Over the course of the school year, I observed that man in the window three more times. The second time was in the middle of the winter, and temperatures were getting well below freezing. That man sat there in the window wearing no scarf or jacket that I could see. How he did not freeze to death seated by that open window I will never know. 

The third time I saw the man in the attic was during early spring of the next year. His hair was always unkempt, and he looked to me as if he were seriously malnourished. I wondered if he went up to the attic because he liked sitting by the window, or if the rumors were true and his family was keeping him locked up. 

That was when it occurred to me, I never saw this supposed family of his. Never once in all the time I spent playing on that block did I see anyone come or go from that house. I did see lights switch on and off at night, but the heavy curtains obscured any shadows that might indicate who was inside. 

No cars ever parked outside of the house, but it did have a two-car garage built out of what was once a large wood-working shop. Neither of the garage doors had windows, and neither did the garage’s exit door. There was no way for anyone to get a look inside to see if there were any cars parked inside, but it is not like any of the children in the neighborhood had the nerve to get close enough to look anyway. 

Several years passed, and I continued to see that strange man in the window. Sometimes he did not look quite so bad, but other times he looked like an animated corpse. Regardless of how many times I witnessed that man in the attic, I still never got over the chills that came over me every time his gaze crossed mine. 

I was eleven years-old and some when friends and I pulled one over on our parents, and we stayed out all night. My parents thought I was spending the night with Scott, Scott’s parents thought he was spending the night with Andy, and so on. There were five of us in all. We took great care to stay quiet so we did not alert any of the neighbors, who in turn would probably call our parents, and we tried to stick to the darkness as much as possible. 

Vacant lots and patches of forest remained throughout the neighborhood, so it was not difficult for us to stay away from the streetlights, the roads and out of sight of any passing cars. We began our night in one of the newer sections of the neighborhood, which was fifteen blocks from my house. As the night passed, and we goofed around, we made our way closer and closer to the old section of the neighborhood. 

Eventually we found ourselves at the vacant lot across the street from “the house.” It was after ten o’clock and there was no light on in the attic, so we could not see if that sickly man was sitting there or not. We did although, see lights through several of the ground floor windows. As always, the curtains were pulled, and it was impossible to discern if any of the rooms were currently occupied. 

We started discussing the different rumors we heard about this house and its occupants, and it was not long before we started daring each other to approach the three-century-old house more closely. Quickly scurrying across the street, my friends and I ran to the adjacent house and hid behind the mass of shrubbery filling part of the lawn. We crouched down low as we made our way across the cobblestone road as if that was somehow going to make us less visible under the streetlights at both ends of the block. For the others I could not say, but this was the closest to “the house” as I ever was before. 

I had a bad feeling about this and a sinking in my gut, but I was afraid to say anything out of fear of being teased and labeled a chicken by all my friends. My four friends continued to whisper and dare each other to get closer, but I crouched there behind the bushes with my mouth closed. I neither provoked nor accepted any dares. This was the nearest to this old domicile as I ever wanted to be. 

Eventually Scott and Byron goaded Matthew and Andy to approach the solid old structure to try to see something through the window located next to the door on the side of the house. Cowering down as low as they could and still move, our two friends slowly approached “the house” until they finally reached the curtain obscured window. They were now officially closer to the building than any kid in our neighborhood during our lifetime was. 

Matthew and Andy reached the large, curtain obscured window next to the door on the side of the house. As I watched them try to get a peek through the overlap in the curtains, I wanted nothing more than to flee as fast as I could. I knew doing so would keep me labeled a chicken for the rest of my childhood and possibly on into my adulthood. Despite how desperately I wanted to leave, I stayed hiding in the evergreen bushes with Scott and Byron. 

My heart was beating so hard in my chest I could almost hear it. With our eyes focused on Matt and Andy, the remaining three of us did not see the oaken door slowly swing open. Andy noticed the door open at some point. Grabbing Matthew by the shoulder, Andy told him to run. Instead of running, Matt looked up at the figure standing in there in the shadow of the portal. 

The other three of us waved our hands frantically and told our friends to get moving. We could not see what was standing in the doorway, but whatever it was it made Matthew freeze like I did the first time the man in the attic turned his gaze upon me. Andy pulled Matt so hard, it made Matt fall onto the ground. Scott panicked and ran. I wanted to run with him, but I could not leave Matt and Andy behind. Byron and I, against our better judgement, ran over to “the house” to help Andy get Matt off the ground and running. 

It took the three of us literally lifting Matthew off the ground as best we could and dragging him off like he was unconscious. We got him half-way through the neighboring lawn before he started to show some signs of awareness. Within sixty seconds his faculties returned, and with his wits about him Matt ran with the rest of us as fast as we could away from this horrific place. 

We never could get Matthew to tell us what he saw when he looked up into the doorway. He quickly tired of our prodding and began to grow angry with us for our repeated inquiries. At one point he almost shoved Byron to the ground for asking him what was in the doorway. It did not take long to become obvious Matt was not going to talk about what he saw, what made him freeze like he did. I could not help but wonder if he even remembered after seeing the reaction he had. 

We spent the rest of the night hiding in some woods in the same vicinity as when we started our adventure. Scott was nowhere to be found, so we all assumed he ran home scared. The rest of us waited until it was close to eight in the morning before going home. We all wanted to go home last night, but we would get busted for sneaking out if we got back to our houses too early. 

I saw Scott the next day after getting caught up on some sleep. He said he was hiding in the same patch of forest where we started our adventure last night, and he expected us to return there after getting Matthew off the ground. When we did not return, Scott was afraid something terrible happened to us. I explained our escape and how we spent the night hiding in woods only a few blocks from him. 

Byron caught up to me and Scott as we neared his block. His first reaction was to ask us if we saw Matthew yet today. I was sure Byron was going to ask Matt about last night, and I asked him to please not bring up the subject. Whatever Matt saw instilled such terror in him that he went into a state of shock. My suggestion was to not bring up or talk about the subject unless Matt initiated the conversation. 

Andy finally joined us a little more than an hour before it was time for everyone to return home for the night. The three of us questioned Andy about what happened last night, but he said he did not see anything. Andy told us he looked up and saw the door open, and that was why he tried to get Matt to run. He never looked into the doorway to see who was inside. 

We did not finally see Matt until more than a week after that terrifying night. He got into an argument with his father which ended up turning physical. Growing into a hysterical rage, Matt attacked his father with his bare fists. Subduing a twelve-year-old was no trouble for his father, but that was absolutely unlike our friend to do something like that. He idolized his father, always talking about how cool he was, and how he wanted to be like his father when he grew up. 

Over the course of the next few months, we watched our friend Matthew change from a promising student to one of the kids who spent more time in detention than they did in class. He wanted less and less to do with us, accusing us of not being his friends because we left him like we did. When we tried to explain to him we did not leave him, he accused us of lying. On one occasion he got into a fist fight with Andy over the subject. 

Before that school year was even at an end, Matt stopped having anything to do with us at all. The rest of us were fed up with his attitude and his accusations, so we did not find his absence upsetting. To tell the truth, we found it a relief to not have him around anymore. 

Rarely did we discuss what happened that night when we were trying to get a peek inside that mysterious house, but it did come up on occasion. No one knew what Matthew saw, so we were baffled at his instant change in behavior. We could not imagine what he could possibly have observed that made him change from a star pupil to an aggressive thug. 

As the years passed, some of the historic homes were demolished to make room for newer, more tightly packed houses with small lawns, but most of my neighborhood remained the same. During this time I watched many houses undergo renovations, repairs and receiving fresh coats of paint, but “the house” across from the vacant lot never seemed to age. At this point I realized no one ever cut the grass. No one ever trimmed the hedges, yet they all stayed in great condition. 

I continued to see that man sitting in the attic window of “the house.” Despite all the years that passed, the man in the window did not appear to be growing any older, although his hair continued to grow and was cut somewhat frequently. 

Although it did not affect me so intensely as it did when I was a child, I still got a sinking feeling I was being watched from beyond the grave every time his gaze passed over me. Even if I was not even facing the man’s direction, I could feel it every time he looked at me. I could feel those cold lifeless eyes looking at me. Some nights that blank stare haunted my dreams, almost always preventing me from achieving a healthy night’s sleep. 

I could not help but wonder if the man in the attic knew I was one of the kids there that night. I wondered if he knew all of our identities. Whatever was in that doorway probably got a good look at Matt and Andy, but the rest of us were only in the open long enough to grab Matt’s limp body off the ground. 

When he looked at me with those soulless eyes, did he know I was one of the prowlers outside his house that night we decided to try to get a closer look? 

The more I pondered this possibility, the less time I wanted to spend on that block. I was not the only one. Andy started hanging out with some kids on the other side of the neighborhood. He never really gave us a reason why he ditched Byron, Scott and me, but I always suspected it was because he wanted to stay as far away from “the house” as he could. 

In the early part of our summer vacation, I developed a crush on a girl in my class. I was more than elated when I found my feelings were reciprocated. Byron and Scott were worried this would end our friendship, but she was happy hanging out with the three of us. Sure, we wanted some time alone now and then, but my connection with my two oldest friends remained strong. 

Candice lived on the opposite side of “the house” from me, and only saw it two times in her entire life. She asked us if the stories were true, and we told her the truth. We did not get into the various rumors about “the house,” but we did tell her about our experiences seeing the man in the attic as well as our prowling attempt. 

This seemed to excite her, and she wanted us to take her so she could see him for herself. For nearly a week we rejected Candice’s requests to go and see the man in the attic, but when she said she was going to go by herself if we did not take her, we finally gave in. We were in young love, and she became friends with Byron and Scott very quickly. No one wanted her going there on her own out of fear for her safety. 

The next day the four of us met at my house and headed to the vacant lot with the neighborhood’s most ancient tree. Candice marveled over the cobblestone streets, which were replaced with paved roads on her side of the neighborhood. She was also quite impressed with the climbing tree across the street from “the house.” The four of us climbed up into the tree and made ourselves comfortable. 

She probably thought we were fooling with her when we told her not to stare at the window if it was empty. No one ever saw him get up or sit down, so if she watched the window, the man would not appear. Even so, she went along with us. We lazed around the massive oak for perhaps an hour or so when Byron told us the man was there. 

Grinning from ear to ear, Candice turned to look at the local legendary man in the attic. The moment she turned, the man in the window quickly turned his head to gaze straight at my girlfriend. She froze instantly, and I remembered that look on her face. Scott and I immediately jumped out of the tree and told Candice to come down. I wanted to get her away from here, but she was frozen in place. 

Candice did not react to us and appeared to not even hear us. I tugged her leg lightly, but she continued to stare back at the man in the attic. I turned and started screaming at the man. I only walked as far as the sidewalk, but I called the man a creep, a monster and several other descriptive words. I was trying to make him cease his staring at Candice. It worked, and the man stopped staring at her which released her from her paralysis. 

I managed to get the man in the attic to stop whatever it was he was doing to my girlfriend, and I drew his attention to me instead. He did not give me that blank stare I came to know over the last seven years. This time his brow furrowed, and an angry scowl covered his face. I was terrified to my core. Until now all I ever did was passively attract his attention, but now I clearly made the man in the attic angry. 

Running back over to my friends, we all ran until we were two blocks away from “the house” before we stopped to catch our breath. Candice began crying, and I took her in my arms. I assured her everything was okay, and we would never go near “the house” ever again. 

“Yes we well,” she cried. “He showed me.” 

At this point she progressed from crying to bawling. I did my best to try and console her, but she was becoming hysterical. Candice did not stop sobbing until she tired herself out. We took her to Byron’s house because it was the closest and had a gazebo in the back yard where we could sit. 

We all sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity when Scott finally asked Cynthia what she meant when she said he showed her. She said it was just that. When he gazed into her eyes, she saw the four of us following someone to “the house” at night. The person went inside, and eventually we followed. 

There was another long uncomfortable silence, then Byron said he had a nightmare a few nights ago in which he experienced the same thing. Neither of them knew the identity of the individual we followed, but they clearly remember the four of us being present. The more they tried to remember, the more they forgot until they only had vague recollections. 

Right then and there we made a pact that none of us would come within a block of that building. From now on we did our hanging around on the west side of the neighborhood, far away from “the house.” I silently prayed their visions were of what could happen, not what would happen. 

Another school year came and went. Matthew was expelled at the end of the first semester for getting into two fights. He injured one boy fairly severely, for which he was put on probation and house arrest. Starting that night he stared up at whatever stood in the doorway of “the house,” Matthew was not the same person. Something about what he saw changed him, made him virtually unrecognizable. 

Candice and I continued to “go together” throughout the school year and into the summer. The four of us spent a lot of time sitting in Byron’s family’s gazebo. We were surrounded by rich green foliage and a massive oak tree providing additional shade from the summer sun. His family’s lawn was large even for this area, and contained many hedges and flowerbeds. It was a soothing place to be. 

We never did discuss the man in the attic after talking about it following our last encounter, but it was something that remained dwelling in all our minds. All of us swore we would never go near that house again, but if Candice’s vision and Byron’s dream were prophetic, we might not have a choice. I had to know more about this house and who occupied it.  

Candice and I decided to take the bus to the city hall to see what we could dig up on the house and its owners. The task proved to be more time-consuming than we thought, and we got very little accomplished the first day. We went back several times over the next three weeks trying to find anything that might unlock the secrets of “the house.” 

We could not find when the house was built, but it was the first house in this whole area before other houses started building around it. The first deed we could find for the house listed the date as April 22, 1823, which made “the house” older than we originally thought. Construction on several houses began before the deed to “the house” was signed, and according to an old newspaper clip, the mysterious house was here several decades before the next log structures. 

I was comparing copies of the deed for the building through the years and found something very strange. After the initial deed, the following deeds were signed forty years apart in every case. Even though the names were different, I could tell they were all penned by the same hand. Five different deeds spanning two hundred years all used the same handwriting. I made photo copies of all of the deeds to take home with me. 

Candice in the meantime found an article that could possibly explain everything. On the evening of June 28, 1833, a small black object fell from the sky like a shooting star, The object only damaged a single building, but the next day when everyone went to look, “the house” healed on its own. Reports ran in the local newspapers, but the non-local newspapers reported it as a hoax. 

According to one report we found, the neighbors tried to get the residents of “the house” to come out, but they never received a response. It was thought they might be deceased, but lights shining though the curtains at night suggested the people were still home. The occupants only left at night, and every time someone tried to follow them, the spy would find their target vanished in the darkness. 

Candice and I got copies of everything we were allowed to copy and made notes from the things we could not. After we compiled the documents and notes, we got them organized and brought what we found to our friends. They all thought we were joking with them, but we assured them this was all real. After the laughter from the initial joking ended, everyone grew quiet. 

We showed them everything we had, and this revelation terrified every one of them just as it did me and Candice when we found this information. We started to speculate on what could really be happening with “the house” and the man in the attic. Theories spanned through everything from flying saucers to something being cast out of Heaven. We all agreed on one thing, it was whatever fell from the sky that transmuted the properties of time for “the house.” 

As we discussed the possibilities, we eventually came to the same conclusion on the house. Whatever fell from the sky possessed the entire structure. “The house” was alive. 

What of the occupants of “the house”? Was one of these occupants the man in the attic? 

Learning what we did, we all found ourselves wanting to go back to that block and see “the house” once more. None of us went near that area for the next few weeks, and we all spent a little time doing some research on the history of that historic domicile. Everything new we discovered helped confirm what we learned already. 

Something we all found strange, given the context of the situation, was the newspaper reports about the house ended abruptly. The Editor in Chief of one of the larger newspapers visited “the house” for himself. He never talked about his experience, but he immediately stopped having the newspaper reporting on “the house.” 

Scott proposed we burn the house down. Initially we all thought he was kidding around, but the look on his face told us he was absolutely serious. That made us all take a pause, as we believed he was right but did not think we should commit arson. We knew performing an exorcism would yield no positive results after reading multiple articles about the ritual being done on ‘the house” to no avail. 

Why have the adults, the city never done anything about this? 

When we were ready to disperse and go about our night, several of us took a walk that brought us only blocks away from the street upon which it remained for hundreds of years. We did not plan on getting anywhere near “the house,” but something we saw caused us to alter our plans. 

At the moment we were walking an east to west street, and walking under the street lights ahead we saw Matt. We were clearly not the only ones thinking about it, because we saw our former friend carrying a can of gasoline with him. There was no doubt in any of our minds that he was headed for “the house.” 

We knew we had to stop him, but he was too far away for us to call out to him. If we started yelling that loud at this time of the evening, we would receive a visit from the police. Instead, we increased our pace to a jog in an attempt to catch up to him. By the time we made it around that corner and then the next, Matt was already on the lawn of “the house.” 

Cynthia suddenly began trembling as a look of panic and terror covered her face. She became hysterical so quickly, we had no time to react. Her legs gave out underneath her and she crumpled toward the ground. Byron managed to catch her from behind, and I caught her arm and armpit. Gently lowering her to a seated position, we tried to calm her down. 

“This is what I saw. We’re all going to die,” Candice cried. Over and over she repeated those two ominous phrases. 

I looked at Byron to see what his reaction was, as his dream previously corroborated Candice’s vision. Unfortunately, too many of the details faded from his memory, and Byron had no information to offer on the situation. Only a few houses away I could see the sillouette of my former friend Matthew, emptying the contents of the gasoline can around the back side of “the house.” Finally I told Byron to stay with Candice, and I ran as fast as I could to try to stop Matt before he killed someone. 

I could not run fast enough, and Matt sorely underestimated the flammability of gasoline fumes. He probably thought he was going to light a match, throw it on the gas and run. Instead, the instant he struck the match, the fumes in the air ignited. Matt was engulfed in flames as the can in his hand spewed a cone of fire. Frantically, I searched for some way to stop the blaze, but there was nothing I could do. Helplessly, I listed to his agonized cries as the heat cooked his flesh. 

I did not think things could be more horrific, but then something happened that turned my blood to ice. “The house” began drawing in the flames. Never would I have imagined this had I not witnessed it with my own eyes. I could literally see the fire soaking into the house like a sponge, leaving the old building completely undamaged. As the flames drew into the building, Matt was drawn in with them. His body continued to burn as he screamed and pleaded for me to help him. 

I wanted to help. I wanted to do something, but all I could do is stand there in horror. I could hear Matt screaming until the building absorbed him completely. There was nothing I could do. Matt brought this upon himself, and he was gone. I turned and ran back to help my girlfriend. 

Candice threw her arms around me as she continued to sob. She and Byron both watched the entire scene unfold from no more than a block away. I squeezed her tight as my body trembled in horror. The image of Matt’s body set ablaze, watching and hearing his skin sizzle as he was burned alive was etched clearly in my mind. I held Candice for a moment, but then I told them we needed to run. 

Finally stopping when we reached my back yard, we stayed huddled together in a patch of trees at the edge of the property. This was somewhere we frequently sat and shot the breeze, and we felt safe – as safe as one could feel after an experience like this – and comfortable. For over an hour we sat there in silence, none of us able to think of anything to say. 

Byron broke the silence when he cleared his throat and asked, “Did that happen? Did that really happen? 

Candice and I continued staring into nothing, and when I finally got the nerve to speak I assured him it indeed did happen. After that we continued to sit in silence. It was late, and we were past our curfews, but none of us wanted to move. I finally told Candice I would walk her home. There was no way I could know this, but I told her she would be safe at her house. Tomorrow we would get together and try to put some reasoning behind what we saw, or what we thought we saw. It was still virtually impossible to believe “the house” consumed the flames and my former friend. I saw it with my own eyes from no more than forty feet away, but I still struggled to comprehend it was real. 

I returned home right in time to catch my parents before they were finally going to bed after waiting up for me. They yelled at me for a few minutes, but were much too tired by the time I arrived to yell for long. I knew I was going to get an earful tomorrow, but hoped I would not be grounded for missing my curfew by several hours. 

I scarcely slept at all that night, and during my time awake I devised an excuse to tell my parents. I told them Candice and I went down to the lake, which is about an hour’s walk from our house. By the time we realized what time it was, we were already late. I said I walked her home first since it was so late, then came home. I guess they bought it, because they did not punish me. I was afraid they would ground me and I would not be able to go see Candice today. 

Byron and Scott caught up with me as I was on my way to my girlfriend’s house. Byron told Scott what happened, but Scott did not believe him. Even when I confirmed the story was the truth, Scott thought we were trying to scare him from trying to burn down “the house” himself. When he mentioned that, we both begged him not to try. I told him in detail the horror of listening to Matt scream as he burned without dying. Scott still did not believe us until he saw Candice. 

She still wore the same look of intense terror as she did last night. I doubt she got any sleep at all. I am surprised any of us did. When Scott saw that look of absolute fear on Candice’s face, he realized we were not messing with him. We did experience the hellish scene as we described. 

“We have to do something,” Scott insisted. 

“What?” Byron asked. 

We could not tell people about the fire, there was no damage to the house or the lawn. Matt was gone and there was no one who was going to believe us when we told them the house sucked him in along with the fire. All we would accomplish with that was implicating ourselves over Matt’s disappearance, which was going to become public very soon. 

The only real option we had was to make a vow to one another to never speak to anyone about what we witnessed last night. The truth sounded too insane to be believed. If we ever told anyone about what happened, they would think we had something to do with Matt’s disappearance. We tried to stop him, but instead we watched helplessly as he set himself on fire. We listened in horror to his agonized screams, but only I was close enough to hear the sizzling of his flesh as he cried out for help we could not provide. 

Candice was having the hardest time coping with the ungodly situation. She experienced it once when the man in the attic put that vision in her head, then she had to experience it again in reality. Watching Matt burning, crying for help, and then seeing him absorb into the house was more than she could take. That made me wonder if the man was in my head the same way the first time I saw him. 

Did we make things worse for Candice because we interrupted whatever it was he was doing to her, what he probably already did to the rest of us? 

I became dizzy as waves of guilt washed over me. I could see Candice was beyond distraught, and the idea this might be my fault almost made me sick to my stomach. I tried my very best to do whatever I could to console her, but the stress and horror of everything was becoming too much for her to bear. 

I did not want to leave her alone, but eventually we had to part ways for the night. If I missed curfew again, my parents would certainly ground me for at least a few days, and those were a few days I did not want to leave Candice alone. The rest of us walked her to her house before we went on our separate ways. All three of us were concerned about Candice, as she was in such a fragile emotional state. The only thing we could do is hope she was able to get a good night sleep before we met back up with her in the morning. 

I awoke the next day to the sound of my parents knocking on my door. They said Matthew had not come home for several days, and they wanted to know if I knew where he was. I used my sleepiness to help mask the lie when I told them I have not seen him for at least a week. They knew Matt and I did not hang out together anymore, so this was easy enough for them to believe. 

Regardless, they told me to get up and get dressed so I could help look for him. I knew there was no point in trying to find him. I knew exactly where he was, but no one would ever accept that as the truth. I quickly got dressed, grabbed a few cold toaster pastries and left in hopes of meeting up with my friends. Scott and Byron did not live very far off the cross street, but I passed them and made my way straight to Candice’s house. 

Her parents already joined the search for Matt leaving Candice at home alone. She did not look like she got much sleep at all last night. I told her to come with me to Byron’s house. The massive lawn contained several venerable trees and a wide variety of shrubbery.  

That was a place that always seemed to relax her, so I hoped she might be able to get some rest there. Several hammocks hung between wooden posts next to the gazebo which was surrounded by beautiful and fragrant flowers. I thought she might be able to take a nap at least if I was there by her side to protect her. 

Scott joined us as we approached Byron’s house, and Byron was coming out of his house as we turned onto his block. I managed to get Byron to the side for a moment and explained to him my thoughts on trying to let Candice get some rest, and I was glad to find he agreed. It was not difficult for him to see how exhausted she was, so he and Scott went to join the pointless search for Matt. I took Candice to his back lawn of thick green grass, sculpted shrubs and beautiful blossoms. 

Once I finally managed to get her to lay in one of the hammocks, I laid on the ground beside her. I talked about the beautiful green trees. I talked about the cool morning breeze and the sweet smell of flowers in the air. I tried to talk about everything soothing I could think of. Clearly it worked because within half an hour Candice was sound asleep. At this point I sat up and leaned against one of the large wooden posts holding the hammock to keep watch over my girlfriend as she rested. 

The search for Matthew continued for a week before authorities finally called him a runaway and ended the massive manhunt. Keeping our dark secret was taking its toll on Candice, so when the search finally ended, it was something of a relief to her. She remained withdrawn and deeply depressed, and I did not know what I could possibly do to make her feel better. I took her to relaxing places like the creek, the forest, or somewhere near beautiful flowers. This helped her some, but the memory of what happened was becoming too much for her. 

We only had slightly more than a week before the summer of my thirteenth year was at an end. Candice enjoyed school, so I hoped that would help to elevate her mood. Perhaps being back in class and having something else to occupy her mind would help her forget about the gruesome scene of Matt’s fiery death. Having homework to do would give her something to keep her mind off of the horrible thing we saw. 

It was the Friday before school resumed, and I was having difficulty getting to sleep. My mind raced with so many thoughts, I could not relax enough to get any rest. I decided to get up and just take a walk around the block to try to clear my head. With school about to start again, we would be around a lot of the people we did not see during the summer. I was absolutely certain there would be talk of Matthew’s disappearance, something I had not considered prior to this, and that was going to be hard for all of us. For Candice, it might be too much. 

As I rounded the first corner, I saw a figure in the darkness walking directly toward “the house.” From this distance at night I could not make out who this person was, but I knew approaching “the house” was a terrible and possibly deadly idea. I increased my pace, but the figure was approaching the old structure too quickly. I started jogging, and when I got a look at the figure under the street light, I began to run as fast as I possibly could. 

Now standing directly on the sidewalk in front of “the house” in her white nightgown, I knew without question it was Candice. What she would be doing out here this time of night, I could not begin to fathom. In an absolute panic, I began to shout her name. I called over and over, but she did not react. She stood there motionless with her back turned toward me and her arms held out in front of her. 

When I reached the middle of the street, I could see blood dripping from her elbows onto the ground. Finally reacting to my calls, Candice turned around to face me. In her limp hand she held her father’s straight razor. Blood flowed from diagonal gashes across her wrists. In a state of shock, I froze in place as I watched the blood running down her arms. When I did start to move, she shook her head. 

“There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “The house wants us all.” 

With that final warning she turned and began to run. Candice was only about twenty feet into the lawn when she began to sink as if she were in quicksand. I ran to her as fast as possible, but she was sinking too fast. By the time I reached her the only thing remaining above ground was her left arm. Locking my hand around hers, I pulled with all my might, but she continued to sink. I held on until the ground finally prevented my hand from moving any further. 

She was gone. Candice was gone. I sat there on my knees crying. I knew she was having a hard time coping with what happened, but I never thought she would do something like this. I did everything I could imagine to help her deal with Matt’s gruesome death, but I did not do enough. It was my fault. I should have seen this coming. I should have been there to protect her. Candice slashed her wrists because I did not get to her quick enough when I should have been with her. 

Why did “the house” not take me too? Why did it drag her into the lawn but leave me kneeling here, helpless to do anything to help her? 

My grief and horror turned to a blind rage. Rising back to my feet, I picked up one of the rocks bordering some of the shrubs in the lawn and marched straight up to the nearest window. I waited until I was only a few feet away and thew the stone with all my might. To my shock and horror, the rock passed through the window and curtain as if neither were there. Turning to look behind me, I saw the stone sitting in its original resting place as if I never touched it. I pounded on the glass with my fists, but it was like I was striking the stone siding. There was no loud banging from the glass. All I could hear was a solid thud every time I struck the window. 

Why did it take Matthew and Candice, but “the house” would not take me? I was trying to get into the house, so why was it keeping me out? 

I sat there at this point with my back against “the house” thinking of the look on Candice’s face before she turned to run. She looked completely defeated. I thought I was helping her, but I did not do enough. Suddenly it came to me. I knew why the house took Matt and Candice but was not taking me. 

Getting back up to my feet I walked over to the sidewalk and picked up the strait razor Candice dropped from her limp hand. Holding the blade firmly in my hand, I walked over to the door Matthew stared into several summers ago. I put one hand on the door knob and with my other hand I swept the razor from one side of my neck to the other. 

The knob melted in my hand and became a fluid darkness. The ebony substance flowed up my arm and drew me into “the house.” “The house” took them and not me because they were dying. Whatever struck the building all those years back did not fall from the sky, if fell through from another dimension. It had form but it was nothingness. It had sentience but no consciousness until it found form with the house and learned self-awareness from the original residents. 

Only people between life and death, people in a place of nothingness can become one with “the house.” No one who entered the dwelling ever truly died, but instead merged with the thing that made the building its body. It used us for our senses. It used us to sustain its own other worldly existence as it was stranded here in a foreign universe. 

Trapped in a void of time immemorial, I never again saw the girl for whom I took my own life. Although we were trapped inside the same house with God knows how many others, we each resided in oblivion. I existed to me, but to no one else. Candice existed to herself, but not to me. I thought I could save her, I thought I could help her through this traumatic time, but now we were both trapped forever in this timeless, spaceless limbo. 

“The house” could not learn on its own. It was not able to gain knowledge except for what it assimilated from those who entered its form. In order to continue to develop, continue to evolve, “the house” lured people to a fate such as mine so it could incorporate their thoughts and memories into its own. To do that, it selected its victims and lured them in using the man in the attic. 

Copyright 2023 ©

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End of the Road

Word Count: 7,100

Nobody believes me. I know everyone thinks I am crazy, but if they saw the things I saw, they would be as terrified of the world as I was. People walked around every day in blissful ignorance, unaware of the evil ceaselessly surrounding them. The townsfolk called me agoraphobic, but it was not the open space that caused my crippling trepidation. I was afraid of what inhabited that space. Demons of darkness walked freely among the people and took joy as they caused pain and misery to everyone they could. 

Most of the world called the misfortunes that happened to them “bad luck.” There was no such thing as luck. Every time someone tripped and fell, every time someone shut their hand in a car door, every time a human was involved in some sort of accident, it was caused by the direct actions of these entities only I could see. Why I could see them and no one else could was something I never discovered. Being ignorant of the horrid, heinous entities all around them, other people looked at my ability as a mental illness. I looked at it as a curse. 

It was sometime when I was a little girl that I began to see these things, these sinister beings roaming the earth. It seemed like so long ago since I last saw what it looked like outside. I had not traveled past the boundaries of my own home in more than ten years. There was too much outside waiting to do horrible things to me, and I could not go out there to willingly expose myself to them. 

Before sequestering myself inside I learned the otherworldly entities stayed away from quartz. When my second sight first began, I discovered I could see the vibrations emanating from certain crystals and precious stones. It did not take me long before I noticed the ebony monstrosities avoiding this one specific mineral. I thought perhaps, in high enough concentrations, the vibrations from these transparent stones caused the dark creatures pain. 

I could not say for certain why they avoided the clear crystal, but I took full advantage of the knowledge. There were quartz crystals in every single corner of my house. I even had them in the corners inside the closets, cabinets and pantry. Stones occupied the corners of every window and the top of the blinds obscuring them. 

The local shopping market delivered my groceries to me every Tuesday and sometimes on Saturday. The owner’s son usually made the deliveries. He was a very nice caring young man who would spend an hour or so talking with me when he came by. I did not care for the owner bringing me my things because he always dropped off my delivery and abruptly departed. Sometimes I felt like he believed he would catch “crazy” from me if he stayed around me for too long. 

Both the grocer and his son knew I hated opening the door. When they arrived and knocked, they allowed me time after unlocking it to get safely away from the opening to the outside world before they entered. I was always afraid that, without the door being closed, one of those malicious interlopers might break the boundaries of the quartz to reach in and get me. There was no way I was going to allow an opportunity for that to happen, and even if they could not get me, I could still see the ghastly nightmares lingering right outside. 

The only other time I ever had visitors was when I needed to call on a repairman for something. On very rare occasions I got a visit from my doctor, but besides that the rest of the time I spent in my house alone. I inherited the large, seven-bedroom home from my grandmother when she passed, along with a substantial sum of money. Those beings of darkness that wander the streets would have surely killed me by now if it were not for what my grandmother left me. 

My house was the second largest house in our lightly populated and widely scattered town. I lived at the end of a long road a little more than a thirty-minute drive through the forest from town. Although there were many houses on this road, no one who lived here ever paid me a visit. They all thought I was insane, and I guess this made them afraid of me. I was the one person they should not be afraid of, but that was fine. More people coming to my house would mean the door would have to be opened more often, and I already wished I never had to open it at all. 

I found many things to occupy my time. I loved knitting, even if I did not have anyone to knit for. All the bedrooms and the four bathrooms in my home were decorated with blankets, doilies and other colorful displays. Reading occupied a lot of my time. I only read books. Magazines, newspapers and anything else with current news caused me too much anxiety. I stuck with the romance and western novels. Science fiction, fantasy and mystery novels I avoided because all they ever did was intensify my apprehension and fear. 

Every so often the grocer’s son would take a list of books I wanted him to purchase for me to the bookstore. He sometimes performed other tasks for me besides bringing my groceries. I always compensated him very well for his time, fuel and gave him money for the books. He was a good kid. If he thought I was paying him too much for the task, he would only accept what he thought he deserved. He was the only person in this world I would turn my back to without fear. 

The young man started delivering my groceries to me when he was sixteen years old, but now he was a high school graduate. He was taking a year off before going to college to save up some money, so in a little over a year I would not have him around anymore. Panic overwhelmed me at the thought of being all alone again. I felt like my world was crashing down at the idea of him not being here. My hands began to tremble, and a few tears ran down my cheek as I tried to calm myself down. 

Even if the grocer did send someone else to deliver to me, would he go to the bookstore or run other errands for me? Would he ever take the time to talk with me? 

I tried not to think about that. It was time for me to eat dinner, so I headed down from the second floor and made my way to the kitchen. The kitchen was originally designed to be used for a large family, but now I was the only one left. I probably did not use ninety percent of the equipment and could not say with any certainty if any of it still functioned. 

A sudden and hard knock on my door startled me so bad I fell to the floor. I was not expecting anyone to come to my house again until next week. My stomach turned and my focus narrowed into a tight tunnel vision as fear gripped me. It felt like electricity was coursing through my body as I tried to pull myself to my feet. Once I was again standing, I reached out and grabbed a small cluster of quartz crystals and hugged it tightly. 

Four more raps at the door came, and I fled to the nearest hiding spot I could. Running into the pantry, I carefully shut the door behind me. Moving as far from the door as I could, I kept my protective crystal bound tightly in my arms. I cowered away for at least thirty minutes after that second knock before I finally mustered enough courage to exit the walk-in pantry. Peeking around the corner of the kitchen, I took a good look at the door. It was still closed, the chains were latched, and the wooden plank was still barricading it, but I could not tell if the deadbolts and the knob were locked from there. 

I hid behind the wall for another ten minutes then cautiously crept forward toward the solid oak door. Once I could see the latches were all turned to the locked position and the chains were all in place, I forgot about cooking dinner and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I locked the door and quickly climbed into my bed. Still shaking from the fright, I balled up against the headboard with my knees pulled up to my chest. Tugging my comforter over me, I covered everything but the top of my head so that I could still see the door. 

After some time, the adrenalin from the fright of hearing that unexpected knock at the door wore off, and I drifted off to sleep. I slept until my alarm clock went off the next morning. After going through my wardrobe looking for something to wear, I headed to the ground floor to prepare myself something for breakfast. I never ate dinner last night, so I was very hungry. Before proceeding into the kitchen though, I had to go into the hall to make sure the door was still locked and barred. Satisfied the portal was well secured, I ate a bowl of cereal as I cooked myself some eggs and toasted some bread. 

Still feeling uneasy about the unexpected knock at the door yesterday, I decided after breakfast to check the windows around the doorway. Every window had glass containing chicken wire, iron bars on the inside and outside, blinds, curtains and finally a wooden stand holding a quartz crystal formation. 

I was extremely diligent not to look past the blinds. The thought of seeing what was lurking right outside, waiting to take revenge on me for avoiding them all these years terrified me to my core. As long as I stayed inside and kept quartz crystals everywhere, they could not get me. I knew they hated me for that. They wanted to pay me back for all the years I stayed out of their reach. 

I felt the bars to make sure they were still firm and intact. After checking the bolts in the wall holding the bars in place, I gave them a strong tug to make sure they were not loose. I could feel the glass through the curtain, but I could not check the bars outside. That was usually one of those kinds of things the grocer’s son did for me. 

The whole ordeal made me very uneasy. My hands were trembling again from anxiety, and I was feeling a bit faint. I poured myself a glass of water, got something to snack on and retired to the library. The library contained more books than would fit on the shelves, and I read every single one of them. Reading was the one thing that truly helped take my mind off of the horrors outside. I could get wrapped up in the fantasy of a romance novel and temporarily forget about all my troubles. 

It was nice to imagine a beautiful open prairie filled with tall waving grass and wildflowers, the sun shining brightly overhead. I would love to sit under a tall shade tree while enjoying a cool breeze. I wished places like that existed in real life, but I knew the truth. There was evil walking around everywhere, and for whatever reason no one else could see it. 

The one place I felt safest was in the library. It was in the center of the house, so I was as far away from any exterior door or window as I could be. I was the most surrounded by quartz crystals in here than anywhere except my bedroom right upstairs. In my library I could fully relax and for a short time forget about all those things that furiously wanted to get inside my house. 

Tuesday arrived, and I was looking forward to seeing the young man who delivered my groceries. He normally came between two and three in the afternoon, but by the time three o’clock came, he still had not arrived. I wondered what could be taking him so long; it was not like him to be late. 

Finally, a few minutes before four, there were three hard knocks at the door. Instantly, I knew something was not right. That nice young man who delivered to me always knocked four times. I stopped my advance toward the door, stepped over to the kitchen, and grabbed a blade from the knife block on the island counter. Picking up the nearest piece of quartz, I started backing my way into the library. 

There were three more solid raps at the door. Nearly jumping out of my skin, I dropped the stone onto the floor. I managed to maintain a firm grip on the knife though. The stone was going to have to stay there because I was not going to throw myself off guard by bending over to pick it up. 

Suddenly I heard someone call out my name. I recognized the voice to be that of the grocer. Once again I heard a knock, and again the grocer called out my name. 

Eventually I answered him and asked him what he wanted. He told me he was here to deliver my groceries. I wondered if this was really who it sounded like, or if something was trying to trick me into letting it in. The grocer should not be delivering my things. He had not delivered my things to me for a long time. His son was always the one who drove my groceries out to me. 

“Do you want your things or not?” he asked in an obviously agitated tone. 

I eventually made my way to the door, removed the wooden bar, unlocked the handle and deadbolts, unlatched the chains and hastily ran over to the staircase. Once I was far away from the door and ready to run up the stairs if need be, I hid the knife I was still holding behind my back and told the gentleman to come in. 

Sure enough, it was the owner of the local grocery market. I cringed as I saw the dark entities crowding around him right outside the doorway. The grocer walked past them completely ignorant of their presence. As he was bringing in the brown paper bags, I asked him if his son was sick today. 

“No,” he replied. “He was approved for a scholarship at the last minute, so he’s going to be heading off to college in a few weeks. He came by the other day to tell you the good news but said you didn’t answer the door. He assumed you were asleep.” 

My head started to spin when he gave me the awful news. The grocer continued talking for a bit, but all I heard was a hollow ringing in my ears. I became dizzy, almost losing my balance. I threw my hands out to grab onto the railing, and in doing so I tossed the knife in my hand to the floor. 

The grocer was visibly disturbed when the ten-inch chef knife fell from my hands, bounced down the steps to the hardwood floor and slid clearly into his view. I did not know what I should do. If I went after the knife to pick it up, he would probably think I was going to try to stab him. 

Should I try to explain to him what I was doing with that long blade in my hands? 

I never got the chance. I was so befuddled; I could not get a sentence out before he quickly told me to have a nice day and excused himself from my presence. He did not even pick up the money I had waiting for him on a table where I always put it for a delivery. Before I went back to lock and bar the door, I waited for a few minutes right where I was to make sure he was not going to come back in. Once I heard his car pulling out of my loose gravel driveway, I ran over to the door and put the wooden bar in position. After that, I secured the other various locking mechanisms. 

I wondered what the grocer was going to do. He was clearly bothered by the sight of the knife falling from my hand. Since he did not take the money for the delivery when he left, it was clear the man only had one thought on his mind. He wanted to get out of my house as quickly as he politely could. 

My entire body began to tremble as I descended into an outright panic. I desperately did not want other people to come to my house, people I did not know. I was shaking so bad I almost collapsed to my knees, but I managed to support myself temporarily utilizing the coat rack adjacent to the door. As soon as I was steady enough, I ran to the library and locked the door behind me. Feeling that was not enough, I braced the knob with a chair and put a chunk of quartz on the seat. 

Climbing into my favorite reading chair, I pulled my knees up to my chest and cried. As I pondered what was going to happen, I began downright sobbing at the prospect of strangers showing up to my home. I got so scared when the grocer knocked at the door, I did not even think to put that knife away before first letting him in. He delivered my things to me for years, so I hoped to everything that was holy he would respect my privacy and leave me alone. 

Reaching over to the table next to me, I removed a bottle of sedatives from the small drawer. Picking up a glass of water I had in here from earlier, I quickly swallowed the small pill and waited for it to take effect. I was seriously considering taking another one, but the pill started to help me calm down half an hour after I took it. 

The minutes passed by agonizingly slow. The soft ticking of the intricately designed wooden clock on the wall behind me sounded as if it were only ticking a few times each minute. I stayed huddled in my chair for hours, but I never heard anyone else at the door. Normally, I could still hear when someone knocked, even locked up in the library. 

When I finally did get up, I found I was rather groggy and a bit off balance. Making my way over to the door on the west wall of the library, I listened with my ear against the door for a few moments before unlocking it. Exiting my reading room into the hall, I rounded the corner and began to make my way up the stairs. Between the sedative and the scare, I did not think to pick the knife up off the mahogany hardwood floor. Instead, I made my way to the second floor and headed straight for my bedroom, which was located directly above the library. 

I turned out the lights, leaving only one dim lamp on. If I did not leave some kind of light on, my room became pitch black. Without any windows in this room, no light made it in from the inside. Once I removed my clothes and got into a nightgown, I climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, when I was bringing my breakfast dishes back to the kitchen, a knock at the door startled me, making me scream and drop the dishes in my hands. Broken fragments of ceramic lay scattered about the floor as I realized I recognized the knock. It was the nice young man who helped me so much over the last few years. 

What would he be doing here now? 

Perhaps he was coming back to tell me himself that he was going to be headed off to college. I picked up the larger plate fragments and dumped them in the trashcan. There was another knock at the door, and then the grocer’s son called out my name. 

I did not want any visitors, but I was happy to see him. He was such a good young man. I went to the door to remove the bar and open the locks when I heard another vehicle pull into my driveway. Something was definitely amiss, and I immediately backed away from the door. He knocked several more times, but I did not answer him. 

I slowly and quietly backed my way to the staircase, beyond which was the west door of the library. The grocer’s son quit knocking, and only a few moments later someone much more heavily fisted began pounding on the door. It was the sheriff. He was asking me to let him come in to talk to me, but I did not answer him either. Instead, I went into the library, locked the doors, barricaded them with furniture, and climbed into my reading chair. 

I hummed a few tunes to myself as I picked up the novel I was in the process of reading. I continued to hum to help drown out the sounds of the people banging at my heavy wooden door. Twenty minutes elapsed before I finally heard the wonderful sound of silence. I did not think they were ever going to leave me alone. 

All my hope for humanity died when that young man tried to deceive me into opening my door. He was so good and kind to me over the last few years; I could not believe he would try something so sinister. That young man was fully aware of how leery I was of strangers, and he worked as their pawn to help the so-called authorities get into my home, my sanctuary. It turned out he was not the good kid I thought he was. 

Several days passed and no one returned to my house. I did not know if the grocer was going to deliver to me any more after the knife incident or not. I was sure he was in on the deceit his son and the sheriff tried to perpetrate. He was probably outside with the rest of them as they tried to trick me out of my home. 

If he stopped bringing my groceries and other items, I was eventually going to run out of food along with a lot of other things. I was so confused, and I felt another panic attack coming on. I took a sedative from the table next to my reading chair and walked upstairs. I walked all the way to the third floor to my childhood bedroom and sat amongst my old toys. They brought me a small measure of comfort, but that was all. The porcelain dolls and stuffed animals did not reassure me like they usually did. 

Four days passed, and no one returned to my house. My grocery delivery was supposed to be tomorrow, but I was completely oblivious as to what I should expect. I did not know if the grocer would come, or if he did would he come alone. His son was going off to college in a few days, and I imagined I would probably never see him again. 

If the sheriff came out with the grocery delivery, what was I supposed to do? 

I could not let them in my house, but I could not go forever on the vegetables I canned during the late spring and early summer. I had meats of various sorts in the freezer, but by my best guess that food would feed me until the end of the year when it was cold and snowy. 

It was about an hour before nightfall when I heard a vehicle pulling into my driveway. I recognized the sputtering engine of the truck belonging to the young man involved in the subterfuge to fool me into letting strangers into my home, my sanctuary. A few moments passed then I heard a light knock on the door. Immediately after that he called out my name. 

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t want to do it, but they made me,” he said through the solid wooden portal. “If you will let me in, I brought you some groceries, some books and a few other things. 

When I did not respond, he said, “I’m alone. I promise.” 

Something in his voice led me to believe he was telling the truth. Making my way over to the door, I removed the wooden bar and undid the other locks. I went over to the stairs where I normally went when letting someone in then called out for him to come in. 

When the door swung open, I could see him carrying a brown paper bag. Another rested on the ground. Picking that one up as well, the young man carried the bags to the island counter in my oversized kitchen. Excusing himself, he went back outside to grab some more. In total he carried ten paper bags into my house. Normally my deliveries were only five, six bags at most. 

The young man apologized repeatedly for his deceit a few days past. He told me the reason and it filled me with unequivocal trepidation. The grocer told the sheriff about the knife, and said he was worried I was going to hurt his son. They wanted to make me attend a competency hearing to determine if I was a threat to myself or others. 

No one else understood me like this young man did. Everyone else thought I was crazy, but he knew that was not the case. Whenever we talked, he did his best to understand me and why I am the way I am. Even after I told him about the shadow creatures that roam the world, causing misfortune to people, he did not treat me any different than before. I did not know if he was playing along with me or if he really believed me. Regardless, he treated me just like anyone else. 

He could not stay long. No one knew he was here, and he wanted to go before anyone realized where he was. The fine young man took the payment for my things, said a long goodbye and closed the door behind him. I ran up behind him and put the wooden bar back across the door and secured all the various locks. 

What was I going to do? 

I could not stay inside my home if I did not have anyone else bringing groceries out to me. It might be possible for me to convert the sunroom into an arboretum so I could grow my own vegetables inside, but that would mean opening my door to contractors and their crews. I never realized how dependent I became on the grocer and his son in order to survive. 

I had not been outside in over a decade, and I was not about to go outside now. I ran the situation over and over in my head as I put away the groceries. One of the bags, instead of containing food, was filled two-thirds full with books. Most of them were clearly used books, but I did not care. Several were books I already owned, and a couple of them were outside my preferred genres. It almost looked like the young man quietly took up a collection for me from some of the other townsfolk, perhaps from some of his friends. 

I greatly appreciated the efforts of the grocer’s son, but I did not know how much good it was going to do me. He brought me enough groceries to last three additional weeks, perhaps more if I rationed my meals carefully. There was still going to come a point when I would need more groceries and other supplies, and I did not know how I was going to do that without allowing in people I did not want inside my house. 

Maybe it would all blow over. If the grocer was worried about his son, he was leaving in a matter of days. I never made any threats to anyone, and I certainly did not pull a knife on the man as he delivered my things. I merely dropped the knife I was already holding when he came into my house. 

The anticipation was crippling as I waited for the normal day of my grocery deliveries. I did not need groceries at the time, but that was information I was not going to tell anyone. If they knew I did not need anything, they may put two and two together and figure out the grocer’s son was here. 

Tuesday arrived, and I was on pins and needles all day. I tried to go about my usual routine, but I could not get my mind off what might happen. I did not know if the grocer would even come, and if he did, I did not know if he would bring anyone with him. When the day was approaching late afternoon, I sat on the large staircase and waited to see if anyone was going to knock on the door. I remained seated on the steps for an hour and a half before I finally heard a knock at the door. 

Even though I was expecting this visit, it still brought sparks to my eyes and made my skin crawl to hear him pounding on the door. My stomach wrenched as I moved close enough for him to hear me. I called out loudly and asked who it was, even though I knew it was the grocer. He answered back and confirmed his identity. Next, I asked who else was with him, but he assured me he was alone. 

I was filled with intense consternation at the thought of letting the man in my house. I did not think I could trust him like I could his son. I would not be surprised if he had the sheriff with him, and I could not look out the window to confirm he was alone. I knew he would not wait forever though, so I had to make a decision fast. 

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. I asked him if he could take them into the garage and leave them there. That way he would still be bringing the groceries into my house, but I was not giving him access to the interior of my home. I did not like going in the garage, but I would rather do that than step outside to get my groceries. 

To my surprise and relief, he said he would be happy to oblige. I told him I had the payment for the delivery last week and for this one, and I was going to place it outside the door that led from the house to the garage. He seemed fine with this, so I was inclined to believe him when he said he was alone. It looked like this was all going to blow over after all. 

I felt so relieved after today’s delivery. I was sure they were going to try to trick me into letting the sheriff into my house, but they did not even attempt to get in. Maybe the grocer realized I was not trying to hurt anyone and had the sheriff back off. 

I slept easy for the next few nights. With the sheriff and the competency hearing off my mind, I was once again able to relax inside my own home. By the time the weekend was over, I read three of the books the young man brought me. The books he gave me outside my genre I added to a box of similar books upstairs. 

Monday came, and I was feeling much better than in the previous weeks. I woke up that morning refreshed, hungry and full of energy. After getting dressed, I headed downstairs to the kitchen to fix myself something for breakfast. I decided since I was feeling so well this morning, I would cook myself something special. Eggs benedict were my favorite, so I decided to dirty up a few pots and make some. That was something I had not cooked in quite some time. It was a delicious breakfast and a great way to get the day started.  

I only finished cleaning the kitchen a few minutes before I heard a vehicle pulling into my driveway. I anxiously held my breath until there was a loud knock at the door. 

“Ma’am, it’s the Sheriff,” a voice called through the door. “I have a warrant to take you to the courthouse ma’am.” 

A few seconds passed and the sheriff said, “Ma’am, I know you are in there. I have a warrant to take you to see a judge for a competency hearing. I got the warrant a couple of weeks ago, but I waited to serve it on you today, so I did not have to keep you away from your home any longer than necessary.” 

What the grocer’s son told me was true. I had to go in front of a judge and prove I was not crazy. I was not crazy; the problem was the vast majority of people were too limited in their perception to see what was right in front of them. As I stood frozen, trying to think of what I should do, there was another knock at the door. 

“Ma’am, please,” the sheriff said. “If you won’t come out, I am going to have to force my way in. I know that won’t be easy and quite frankly I have no desire to damage your lovely home.” 

Oh, how I so desperately hoped this was all going to blow over, but it looked like I was going to have to leave my home one way or another. If I did not go willingly, they would eventually extract me forcefully, and that would probably cause me to lose the hearing without a doubt. Finally, I answered the sheriff and asked him how long we were going to have to stay gone. 

“The hearing is in three hours, so we don’t have to leave right now. We can wait another hour if you want. I don’t know how long your hearing will take, but the courthouse closes at five o’clock. It won’t be any later than that.” 

I asked him if I had to open the door and let him in right now. He told me no, not if I did not want to. The sheriff said he did not mind waiting outside, but in an hour I was going to have to open the door. I agreed to his terms and told him I would unlock the door in one hour. 

Pacing back and forth in the hallway, I began to weep. Salty tears ran down my cheeks as I thought about what was outside waiting for me. I was not sure if I could actually go through with this. He was not just asking me to leave my house, he was going to take me into town. Butterflies churned in my stomach and my head felt as if it would float away. Although it only seemed like I paced around for a few minutes, the sheriff knocked on the door and told me the hour was up. 

I said I would be there in a moment, while I stood as if my feet were glued in place. Shifting my feet one inch at a time, I slowly crept my way to the door. The thought of what was waiting for me out there scared me more than anything else in this world. If I did not go, they would force me out and probably hold me at the hospital or something until I had the opportunity to see a judge. 

Who knows how long I would be separated from my sanctuary then? 

I picked up and put a few pieces of quartz in my pockets, and I always wore a necklace and bracelet made of the crystal. I prayed these trinkets would be enough to hold those entities of darkness at bay. I knew they resented me for discovering how to hold them back, and I had very little doubt they wanted to get back at me for it. 

My hands trembled violently as I removed the heavy wooden bar from the door. Clumsily I dropped the wooden plank to the floor causing enough noise for the sheriff to hear it. Before I could try to begin unfastening the other locks, he asked me if everything was alright. I told him I was okay, that I was only trying to get the door unlocked. I unlatched the chains, but I could not bring myself to release the deadbolts still holding the door secured to the wall. 

I began crying over the thought of what awaited me just outside the door. I know the sheriff thought he could keep me safe, but he was blissfully unaware of the evil beings all around him. Feeling my legs growing weak, I turned and leaned against the door I was too terrified to open. A few minutes passed, and the man outside called for me again. 

“Ma’am, are you coming out?” he inquired. 

I told him I could not do it. He assured me he would be with me the entire time, and I had nothing to worry about. Fighting through my tears and quivering lips, I told him there was no possible way he could give me such a guarantee. 

“Please, just come out,” he said. “I promise I will do everything in my ability to keep you safe, but you have to come out.” 

Reaching up and grabbing the doorknob tightly, I used it to help me get back to my feet. Struggling to get past my crippling fear, I unlocked the deadbolts one at a time. All that was left was to unlock the doorknob and expose myself to the evil outside. 

Why could they not leave me alone? 

They did not know about the things outside waiting to make me suffer for holding them at bay for more than a decade, but I did. Finally, I turned the lock on the doorknob and gripped the knob so hard my knuckles turned white. I begged the Sheriff one last time not to make me leave my house, but he continued to insist. 

Turning the knob I held firmly in my hands, I slowly pulled the door open. There stood the Sheriff in his uniform surrounded by at least a dozen of the wretched demons. Their black shapeless forms defied the light. Their bodies did not reflect the light but instead absorbed it, so they appeared as nothingness. 

Seeing the shapes surrounding the man, I began to scream and fell back into my house with my eyes closed tightly. He was quick to react and was on the floor holding me almost immediately. I know the Sheriff was a good man, and he had no desire to hurt me. I wished others could see these beings of the netherworld, but if they did the world would probably cease to function. 

Helping me to my feet, the lawman told me I did not have to look. He gently put one arm around my shoulders and held my hand with the other. One small step at a time, he led me out the front walkway over to his vehicle. The things could not touch me because I was protected by my crystals, but I also knew without looking they were trying to figure out how to get me. 

It felt like hours before we finally reached the sheriff’s large pickup truck. He was very kind and patient with me, which is a courtesy I did not think I would receive if I made them force me out of my home. After helping me into his vehicle and buckling my seatbelt, he closed the door and quickly ran around to the other side. 

I was very familiar with the sound of a vehicle driving on my loose stone driveway, so when we hit the paved road, I knew where we were without looking. I knew where we were, but I looked up anyway. I was used to hiding from the world, not shutting my eyes to it. When I glanced up, I saw one of those things standing in the road. It was reaching up with, for lack of a better word, its hands, and it was in line with the sheriff. 

They could not harm me directly, so they were going to hurt me by killing the man driving the truck. I could not let that happen. Not thinking about myself for once in my life, I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed the steering wheel. The sheriff did not have time to react before I took hold of the steering wheel and pulled hard in my direction. 

The creature came only inches away from hurting the man who was only doing his job, but thanks to me opening my eyes in time he was still alive. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about me. I swerved the vehicle away from that horror and kept it from getting the sheriff, but when I pulled the vehicle to the right, I drove us straight into a tree. 

The truck stopped at the tree, but I continued forward at our driving pace. Without my seatbelt to hold me in place, I crashed through the windshield and rolled down the hood. Striking my head and upper torso against the tree with incredible force, I shattered my skull and ribcage before the inertia sent me spinning to the ground. Those things gathered around my mangled, lifeless body sharing a sense of glee at my demise. They reveled in the knowledge they finally caused the death of someone who kept them away for so long. 

I was pronounced dead on the scene. Because of my actions a man was still alive, but no one would ever remember it that way. There was no way anyone could know what really happened. In this little town spread throughout the forest, everyone would forever speak of me as that crazy lady at the end of the road.

Copyright 2023 ©

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Beautiful Island Cove

Word Count: 6,007

The salty aroma of the briny water filled the warm air of the small coastal city. The white granite stone buildings hanging on the face of a steep slope formed a crescent wrapping around the sandy beach of the island cove. Fishing boats were returning to the port later than they did for many generations as the catches seemed to be growing thin. The hope was casting their nets further out would allow the fish population closer to the island to recover. The city’s dense populous was very dependent of fish and kelp as staple foods. 

Tenements built along the hillside allowed very little room for any form of lawn or garden, and the steep slope would make tending to them a difficult task indeed. The narrow rectangular homes were one to three levels in height, built with adjoining walls, and most of the shorter homes had more houses constructed on top them to maximize the usable living space. There was no flat land, apart from the beach, within miles of the sandy, rock-walled cove. Riding animals up and down the steep and sometimes slick cobblestone streets could be perilous. The safest and most efficient way to get around town was on foot. 

Trails led from the top of the hillside all the way down to the wharf, winding through large breaks between the homes left to allow for such paths to exist. Most of the walkways consisted of stairs either artistically etched directly into the bedrock or constructed from the granite stone that made up much of the island. Granite worked well as the grainy surface helped grip the leather soles of shoes and provide traction, but after centuries of use, the stones wore smooth in places. Certain sections could be outright dangerous on rainy days, especially if someone did not know where the slickest spots were. 

Although not part of the original design, wooden handrails were added to some of the more dangerous sections after several fatal falls happened two winters in a row. In the heavy rains of the cooler months, the trails could become difficult to navigate. Virtually everyone in the city was either a carpenter, mason, fisherman or metal worker, so constructing the handrails only took one summer. The process of grooving the stones so they once again provided strong traction took much, much longer as there simply were not enough people to spare for such a daunting task. 

For all the time I was alive, I can remember them working on the surface of the ancient stairways. The first time I obtained monetary employment was only a month before my eleventh birthday, and that was working carefully on the stone steps with a small hammer and chisel. Many my age did this kind of work, which taught us the value of determination and the satisfaction of seeing our work completed. By most children’s thirteenth birthday, they no longer worked in the community but instead obtained an apprenticeship with one of the city’s many artisans. 

My skills with the chisel and hammer showed great promise, and I was offered an invitation into the stone mason’s guild. For the first six months, I worked with a small crew replacing some of the old stairs that were too far gone to be repaired. I wanted to build dwellings and carve artwork from stone, but I guess I had to work my way up first. By the time we finished the new section of stairs, it was a work of art in its own right. 

Together we added designs and patterns both as a safety measure and to enhance the beauty of the area. Each step displayed the individual craftsmanship of each worker on the crew. The patterns allowed for additional grip and for more efficient water drainage during the rainy season.  

I was sitting at a short wall where my friends and I gathered together after dark one day for a brief period of socializing before we returned to our homes. I typically worked from dawn to dusk six days of the week, but I did not complain because my family desperately needed the extra income. My father fell ill the previous winter and was unable to perform his duties at the shipyard. The money my mother and sister earned on woman’s wages was simply not enough. Being that I was gifted with such talent when it came to working with stone, I earned a few more coins a week than most people at my level. 

After I returned home, I decided to stay outside a bit longer and enjoy the night air. I was not yet sleepy, and the cool breeze blowing up the hill from the sea felt wonderful on this late summer night. I sat on the wall that held the level of our family lot a few feet above the cobblestone street. The moon was almost full, and its reflection danced gently on the relatively calm waters of the cove. This was a sight I always enjoyed. The overall beauty of this aesthetically splendorous city on the hillside and the magnificence of the ocean made it worth all the work it took to live here. 

I noticed a faint glow emanating from the water near the center of the cove. Initially I thought it was no more than the light of the iridescent moon dancing on the water’s surface, but this faint blue glow remained unwavering in the water. It was obvious whatever this was glowing in the water was rising from the depths as it continuously grew brighter and brighter for several minutes.  

Although it got close, I was sure it never reached the water’s surface. I saw no rippling to indicate it did. Many times I heard the tales of the fishermen describing extraordinary creatures that produced their own incandescent display, but I never saw anything like it myself. On occasion I found a dead gelatinous sea creature washed up on the beach, but those were exceedingly smaller than what I was seeing now. To give it my best guess, I would say this illumination in the waters of the cove was nearly an arm span in width. 

Stunned and unsure what to think, I watched the thing in the water begin moving toward shore. Initially it moved very slowly, but it picked up speed as it headed toward the shipyard. At top speed it probably moved as fast as a skilled swimmer in calm water. After several minutes it disappeared under the concealment of the fishing boats that filled that section of the cove. I continued to watch for anything out of sorts for another ten minutes without seeing anything more before finally heading off to bed. 

The next morning the whole town was abuzz with talk of two fishermen who went missing some time during the night. The men were working long after dusk aboard the deck of their boat, and neither man returned home. They could not be found anywhere, which was abnormal on its own, but what sent chills down my back was what they found on board the ship. Although there were a few things knocked over and in disarray, there did not appear to be any significant sign of a struggle. All their clothes, all their belongings they had on them at the time were found in two piles aboard the deck. It was as if the men simply vanished, and their possessions dropped right where they were. 

Immediately upon hearing about what happened, I headed straight for the Constable’s building. Having worked so much on the city’s staircase system, I was very familiar with all of the pathways. I knew which paths, alleys or roads to take to get to my destination as fast as possible. More people than usual for this time of day were out on the streets because word of the macabre incident spread quickly. I was at the Constable’s office within thirty minutes of hearing what happened. 

I was shocked to find a crowd surrounding the doorway. Apparently, I was not the only one to witness that strange glow in the water last night. At least twenty people filled the law-enforcement official’s office, and three dozen more waited outside. I waited for a long time in an attempt to have my experience put on record, but when it started getting closer to mid-day, I decided they had enough accounts. There was probably nothing I could tell the authorities that those other witnesses did not, as I did not see anything beyond a strange illumination in the cove. 

On my way to my current worksite, I began to worry. Not once since I first began to work chiseling grooves into the granite stairs was I late for work, and I arrived very late today. I worried about losing my good standing in the guild for my extreme tardiness, but I was not the only one who did not make it to the work site on time. These disappearances in the shipyard had the whole city upset, scared and wondering what could be capable of doing such a thing. 

We did not get much work done during the remainder of the day. Everyone was talking about the two missing men and the strange light seen in the water. Fear quickly tightened its malign fists over the whole city as speculation led to rumors causing the story of the incident to change and magnify as the day went on. Those of us who arrived to work today tried to keep in the loop for what we hoped to be an update on the news. 

By the time the day came to an end, we heard so many different stories of what happened in the cove last night, I did not know what to believe. I knew once nightfall hit, we would hear no official word from the town criers at least until sometime the next morning. I could not think of one time in my life when the town criers went out at night. 

Our entire work crew was performing sluggishly the next day. They, as did I, stayed up late last night watching over the cove for any strange lights. Most of the city was up watching for something abnormal to appear, but the entire night passed without incident. We tried to get as much constructed as we could, but we were far from meeting our mark when the day came to an end. We had to push ourselves hard for the next few days to get caught back up to schedule. 

Several days passed without a statement from the Constable or any news from the town criers, and the population began to grow agitated with the lack of official information. Endless rumors already spread regarding the disappearance of the two fishermen, and now rumors were beginning to circulate regarding the city officials’ apparent silence on the matter. The Constable obviously picked up on the extreme tension building among the city’s residents, because he sent the town criers out the next day. 

The criers did not tell everyone what happened to the two men as we all hoped. Instead, there was a brief mention of the happening and then reassurances of the precautions being taken to ensure this incident did not repeat itself. Armed men were patrolling the cove and someone was posted to the lookout station at the top of the hill ready to sound the labraphone to alert the population of any danger. When sounded, the horn echoed through the cove waking anyone who was not already so. Torches lined the beach to aid with visibility at night, and the oil cisterns at the top of the hill would be lit to help illuminate the entire city. 

Needless to say, the public was not happy with the announcements. Everyone hoped for some answer concerning the details of the aberrant disappearance of the two fishermen. Although not happy with the news, the people of the city were glad to finally get an announcement of some sort. Knowing this was better than knowing nothing at all. 

Officials asked for any men of fighting age to take their turn patrolling the beach or manning the lookout post with its massive horn. The long horn was carved from the trunk of a single tree, and when blown created a nearly deafening roar that was easily heard all throughout the city. No one was required to volunteer, but according to the criers, the city wanted to muster together as many fighting men as possible. The time for organization was now before something else happened and not after it was too late. 

I still had little over a year before my fifteenth summer, so I was not allowed to join the fighting men. I did however sign up to cover several shifts at the lookout post. The building was still sturdy and the interior was in order. It was so long since the post was used though, dust coated every horizontal or diagonal surface in the structure. I was rather relieved my time to serve as lookout was still a few days away. Those before me should have it cleaned by the time it came my turn to watch. 

Tension laid across the city like a wool blanket. Everyone was afraid of what might come out of the water and what it might do to us. The fishermen were extremely reluctant to go out into the open ocean to practice their trade, but they really did not have much of a choice. Fish was our primary source of food. A few shepherds tended to flocks in the long valley on the other side of the island, but they were primarily raised for their wool. We could not turn to them as a primary food source. 

The fruit trees on the island provided a hefty bounty, but it could take days to gather enough to return to the city to sell. Some fruits lasted a week or two after being picked, but some only lasted a few days. For the gatherers these could bring in a very generous profit, but the chance of the fruit spoiling before it could be sold made such an option very risky. The safest way for them to make a steady income was to sell the fruits taken from the trees rather than shrubs and bushes. 

Without the fish, there simply would not be enough food to sustain the people of the city. The boats went out with extra crew armed with harpoons and spears in case whatever took those first two men tried to take them too. This fear and paranoia went on for several more weeks, but when the four-week mark from the day of the incident arrived, people began to relax again and let down their guard. 

Five days later, a few hours after dark, I was working my third shift at the watchtower. No one saw anything glowing in the water since the night of the incident four weeks ago. At this point it was getting to where people were not expecting anything else to happen. That turned out to be nothing but false hope. 

There was another man with me, and we talked about whatever we could think of to keep ourselves awake. I was sitting at the massive window in the bunker when I suddenly noticed what I thought was possibly glowing under the water. After a few seconds I saw two more spots. Immediately I screamed for my partner to blow the horn. He sat there for a moment as if he did not believe me, and I shouted at him again to sound the alarm. 

Frantically he scrambled to the mouthpiece of the gigantic instrument and began to blow. The sound was so loud, it was deafening from where I was standing. I covered my ears with my hands, but that did not provide much protection. Not once in my lifetime has anyone blown the labraphone for any reason, so I was not expecting it to blast as ear-stingingly loud as it did. 

I could not hear anything, but I could see the men gathering on the beach with their weapons in hand. As my companion continued to sound the booming alarm, people began coming out of their homes and gathering in groups. Some carried harpoons and spears while everyone else carried whatever they could find. Residents collected at specified places creating large crowds in multiple locations throughout the city. 

When the deafening roar of the labraphone came to an end, and my hearing began to return somewhat, I could hear others blowing smaller horns. It was not really necessary, but the tones helped boost the morale of the people of the city in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. 

My companion in the watchtower assured me he would be able to keep blowing the massive horn a few more times, so I grabbed my hammer and scurried down the hill to join some of the others. All the able-bodied men, and some of the women, from this part of the city gathered in the street not far from my home. Ready to do what I had to in order to protect my city, my home, I joined the crowd and found who had taken charge. 

From our current position, we could all see the light in the cove moving toward the beach this time. A dozen armed men, some of them also wielding shields, awaited the arrival of this dreaded intruder. When the gelatinous creature reached land, it slithered its way across the sand toward the nearest group of men. Outside of the water, the transparent mass outshined the torches lining the beach only twenty paces from the first row of buildings. 

Several of the men threw their harpoons at the abomination from the ocean’s depths, but they did not seem to faze the creature in the slightest. Instead of causing the creature harm, the transparent blob rapidly dissolved the harpoons leaving it behind as rust when it moved on. The creature suddenly stopped where it was and became motionless. Everyone thought it was probably unable to survive outside the water, and the men on the beach halted their retreat. 

Everyone watched helplessly in horror as the thing from the sea lashed out a tendril that engulfed the closest man’s legs. Before he had time to scream in terror and pain, his body converted into a transparent gelatinous mass. The creature absorbed the gel that was once a man and left all the man’s clothes and possessions lying in a heap on the ground. 

The other men on the beach threw their weapons at the amorphous creature in a futile attempt to injure the horrible thing from the deep. After disarming themselves, the men turned in a desperate attempt to save their own lives and ran as fast as they could. Two of the men were not fast enough, and the creature lashed out with several tendrils which converted their bodies to a gelatinous mass as it did with the first man. 

At this point the entire city was in a panic. People rushed into the narrow streets trying to make their way up the hill. Never before did the city ever need to be evacuated, so it was not constructed with this need in mind. Residents slipped on the cobblestone roads, and the panicked mob behind them did not stop to help them up. Dozens of people were trampled to death as the terrified crowd tried to make their way up the hill. 

I was helping my mother and sister get my father out of the house so we could get him to safety when I saw several more circular lights moving in the cove. People were screaming and fighting with one another as they tried to force their way up the streets and pathways. The pathways were even worse than the winding streets since they were constructed at a much steeper slope. 

I could not see the first creature to wriggle its way onto the beach any longer. I thought perhaps it headed back into the water, but then I saw a bright green glow coming from between some of the buildings closest to the cove. Whatever these things were, it was clear they had the ability to survive outside the water for short periods anyway. 

I knew of a pathway that was rarely used, and I hoped I could get my family to it and out of the city. We only had to get Father two tenements further up the hill, and then I was sure we could get him and ourselves to safety. To accomplish this, we were going to have to fight our way through the crowd until we could turn off onto a rarely used road where we could make our detour. 

A population that worked together so well for countless generations was now shoving and elbowing each other in a vain attempt to get just a little further up the hill. If everyone would only calm down, the exodus of residents would go much smoother. In their panic though, the normally cooperative people were ready to kill to get a few feet further ahead. 

Struggling to move with the flow of people while supporting my father was extremely difficult, and at times was almost impossible. My mother was in front of him so he could support himself by holding her shoulders while I walked beside him with my arms wrapped under his. My sister remained wedged between me and my mother. 

More of the creatures made it to shore and were overtaking the panic-stricken people closest to the cove. We could hear the people screaming, crying out in absolute terror for help as the glowing entities reached them and began to “feed.” Their voices could even be heard over the crowd surrounding us, then suddenly the lower section of the city fell silent. 

I felt a small sense of relief when we finally reached the smaller road. There were not many people using it because in this section of the city the road sloped downward a bit, and everyone was trying to push their way upward. This road was almost exclusively used by laborers, so not many people knew their way around here like I did. Now only passing the occasional terrified citizen, we were able to get my father to the closed pathway. 

No one was using this pathway at all because it was barricaded in most sections. Since this was the pathway on which I worked for the past six months, I knew it was almost totally complete. There would be a few places that would present us problems, but at least we were no longer having to fight the crowd of residents fleeing for their lives. 

The pathway between the rows of tenements was steep, which normally would not be a problem. After years of walking up and down steep hills, paths and staircases, one grew accustomed to it. My father’s poor health and weak physical state made what would normally be an easy task into a very difficult one. 

I stayed above and helped lift father up the path, and Mother and my sister stayed behind him to provide support. We reached a particular section that allowed me a wide view of the city. I could see at least a dozen places aglow with that eerie green light, which meant there were at least a dozen of those things already in the city. I could see more lights in the still water of the cove that were making their way to shore. 

For gelatinous creatures clearly out of their element, they were closing in on us quickly. If we did not pick up our pace, they would eventually catch up to us. I had my father wrap his arms around my neck while my mother and sister supported his legs. This allowed us to move a little bit faster, but I was not sure it was going to be enough. It was not long at all before this became too difficult to continue doing. 

I had no choice but to have to stop for a moment to catch my breath. Even if it was only going to be a few seconds, I had to stop because of the pain this was causing in my back. This was when my father said the words I did not want to hear. Father said there was no choice but to leave him behind. Without him we could escape. 

I told him I was having none of that; I was getting him out of here. 

He smiled proudly at me and said, “I had a really good life. I have a strong son who is growing into a strong man. Protect your mother and sister.” 

With that he pulled away from me and lunged down the stone staircase. I could see him break his neck on his second tumble as it suddenly moved in ways it should not. I yelled; I yelled at him and for him. There was absolutely nothing I could do, and I cursed myself for not holding on to him tighter. I was supposed to be helping him get out of the city. I was not supposed to allow him to fall to his death. 

My mother began crying hysterically, and I could not get her to listen to me. It gave me no pleasure at all to do so, but I had to give her a firm slap on the cheek to get her to finally settle down enough to pay attention to me. My father charged me with one last task, and I was not going to dishonor his memory by failing. I did not care what I had to do; I was going to get my mother and sister out of here. 

It was obvious by the increasing light the creatures were closing in on us. Since I could not see them directly, I did not know how many of the gelatinous horrors now occupied the city. I could tell, though; by the number of streets illuminated that many more came out of the water to join the ranks of this invasion. 

I got my mother and sister up the ledge and we were again running up the stairs. I stayed in the rear so I could protect them, although I had no idea what I would do if we did encounter one of these things. After seeing how that man’s harpoon skewered harmlessly into the sea monster’s transparent body, I did not believe there was any weapon I could find that would hurt these things. 

I tried to block out the terrified screams coming from the main road winding through the city. So many people were fighting each other in a race to get over the top of the hill, it made my stomach turn. Those creatures were consuming people one after another, and the people were killing each other trying to get away from them. 

Eventually our pathway came to an end in front of a row of large stone tenements. We had two choices before us. We could go to the right which would take us to the main road connecting the top of the city to the port, or we could take the alleyway to the left where we would find another ascending path in about forty yards. 

I knew the main road was out of the question as everyone in the city tried to force their way through the crowd. The only real option was to turn to the left and head for the next path. We only had three rows of buildings left until we reached the top of the hill. Fleeing from the top would be much easier than climbing up the pathway to get there. We were only a few steps into the alleyway, and I could see down the path where my father died was one of those things rippling like water as it oozed its way up behind us.  

Only a second later a group of people emerged screaming from between two buildings on the path I was trying to get my mother and sister to so we could finish our climb. Another one of those horrors from the deep was not close enough to them that I could see it yet, but its haunting green iridescence announced its presence. We were going to reach the pathway before the others, but I held my mother and sister back. I knew in their panicked state, this group would have thrown us aside in their attempt to get ahead. I decided we were safer behind them than in front. 

The gruesome monstrosity appeared between the buildings just as the group made its way past us. The abomination lashed out with an oozing tendril and struck the last one of the group in the back. I clearly saw the look of terror on the man’s face as he was only ten feet away from me. His body literally became transparent and colorless right before my eyes, and then the beast from the ocean absorbed his mass through its tendril into its body. 

Suddenly the glowing monster began to quiver and vibrate, slowly at first but with increasing speed. I rushed my mother and sister up the stairs as I did my best to keep an eye behind me. Even though I was unable to stare at the thing, I could see enough to know what was happening. The creature’s gelatinous body started to divide. That was how they were overtaking the city so quickly. After they absorbed enough mass, they divided and multiplied. The more people they consumed, the more of the ungodly things there were. 

Another family came scrambling from behind the next row of tenements calling out for help. There was nothing I could do to help them, and I had my own family to worry about. They did not make it to the steep pathway until we already made it to the next row of buildings. That was not soon enough, and the two new creatures down below caught up to them.  

We heard their screams, their terrified screams for help, and then they suddenly fell silent. I knew they were dead without looking. I knew in only seconds the creatures would consume the bodies, and if they did not reproduce, they would be coming up for us in no time. I could only hope the fact there were six people in that family would slow their progress even a little. 

With only one row of buildings left between us and the top of the hill, I could feel the freedom like I could feel my own pain. I knew the creatures were close behind us, and I looked for anything, and may the gods forgive me, anyone I could throw to slow their progress. The only thing I saw worth grabbing was a lantern someone discarded next to the path. 

Quickly I turned and threw it behind me before resuming my climb. There was a loud steady hiss, like wet wood placed in a fire. Sure I did nothing but anger the thing, I waited for that transparent tentacle to grab me from behind. We were almost to the very top when I turned to see what was happening. 

Both creatures lost their luminescence and were instead now burning with a low blue flame. I started screaming to anyone who could hear, anyone who would listen that fire was their weakness. Some people heard me, igniting and throwing what they could. Some were throwing lanterns and torches at the sea beasts, but it was not enough. We could not get enough of a spread on the flames to hold the creatures back. 

There was only one thing left we could do. I, along with a dozen or so others, picked up a log that was to be used for lumber and began to pry the base of one of the cisterns off the ground. The flaming cauldron was full of oil which would cover the ground if only we could turn it over. Several of the glowing horrors were almost within striking distance of us when the large apparatus began to tilt. Oil splashed from the rim of the cistern and set the ground before us ablaze. Reeling back from the flames, the creatures ceased their advance. This gave us the time to fully turn the huge clay container over until it began to roll down the steep hill. 

The black earthen cistern did not break when it fell to the next level like we expected, but instead began careening down the pathway that brought my family and I up to the top edge of the city. As it rolled, the massive vat threw burning oil all over the buildings setting row after row of tenements ablaze. Confronted with the flames, the monsters from the ocean began to retreat. 

The creatures that did not retreat quickly enough were ignited upon contact with the boiling hot, flaming oil. A second cistern rolled off its base as another group followed our lead. Within minutes our entire city was engulfed in flames.  

We watched helplessly as the gelatinous blobs returned to the sea, and our city, everything we had burned. I never would have imagined turning over the cisterns would cause such damage. I thought the fire would remain mostly confined to the top row of buildings since I did not expect the massive clay cauldrons to roll down the pathways as they did. The flames reached heights I did not think possible. The heat grew intense fast, and we had to retreat down into the valley on the other side of the hill. 

We remained deep in the valley until we saw only small plumes of smoke rising from the cove face of the hill. Families huddled together, some crying and some in a total state of shock. Everyone had difficulty coming to grips with the entire situation. Nothing so tragic ever happened in the history of our culture, and the surviving residents tried to cope with the horrific events as best they could. 

The fires continued for three days. The blaze did not stop until there was nothing left but the boats in the harbor. The stone walls of the buildings were charred and black but remained mostly intact. Beyond that there was nothing left. Not even half of the residents made it out alive. The rest were consumed by the alien invaders or trampled to death by other citizens as they tried to flee in the chaos. 

By the time the fires ended, there were no bodies left to give a proper disposal. So many people died. It was staggering, difficult to comprehend. Our friends and families fell victim to the illuminated horrors and the consequences of mass hysteria. We could not bear the pain of rebuilding our once glorious city. Almost unanimously the population of the island decided to leave the home our ancestors lived in for centuries, and set sail for a distant island chain. 

We loaded enough livestock for breeding when we arrived, and any nautical equipment that was not destroyed in the fire. Taking every boat we had, we said goodbye to our home and set sail. Our beautiful, sculpted city was now nothing but a hollow shell of blackened walls.  

With great sadness and heavy hearts, we left behind all we ever knew. The reason for the sea creatures’ assault remained a mystery to us. It never occurred to us that, when we over fished the waters, we were depriving anything else of sustenance. We were not attacked out of anger from the gods, or an invasion of gelatinous monsters. It was our fault. We depleted the waters of the giant schools of fish that once swam here. All they were doing was protecting their food source. Because of our ignorance, we had to say goodbye forever to our beautiful island cove.

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The Bone Yard

Word Count: 6,612

I truly loved to spend time reveling in the magnificent beauty of nature. Being social was a skill I possessed in very small quantities, and for me making friends was far from being an effortless task. Sequestering myself in the wilderness to go fishing, hiking or camping were the things that gave my otherwise hollow life meaning. 

Since I worked four days at ten hours a day, I almost always had a three-day weekend. This gave me a lot of time to spend engaging in the things I so loved. On this particular occasion I decided to go for a hike in a rather familiar area of the Smoky Mountains 

I brought my fishing rod and reel along with a small tackle box containing the basic items I may need. Along the path I chose on which I was going to take my hike, I knew I would pass several streams. The streams meandered around the forest, and I knew where I would pass several of the crystal-clear waterways. Because of the way the streams twisted around the terrain; I would pass some of them multiple times. I planned to visit some places of which I knew that were great fishing holes. 

Waiting until late morning to leave on my hike, I knew the sun would likely be down by the time I was ready to return home. I brought with me a flashlight and a large lamplight. I also had a smaller back-up flashlight that stayed in my tackle box. My familiarity with the terrain was not an issue. I knew my trails well enough to navigate them under the dim moonlight. The function of the large flashlight was to watch for snakes and other wild animals native to the area. 

I reached a bend in the closest stream and was dismayed to find nothing but a small trickle in an otherwise empty waterway. Dead fish lay scattered in the mucky stream bed which indicated the water-flow stopped abruptly. The poor fish did not have time to escape downstream with the last of the water. Since the fish were not fully dry, I knew it also happened recently. Hopefully, it was nothing more than a dam of logs, sticks and leaves I could possibly dislodge on my own. 

There was obviously no point in stopping here, so I continued my walk. I hoped to find the clog in the stream and jar it loose. I reached the second elbow along my path, and the stream was empty here as well. I wondered how far up the way the clog occurred. At the end of a trail branching from the main path was another stream in which I liked to sit underneath the cool shade of the large trees to fish. 

I decided to head down this path and go to fish in that stream. Even though I still could not yet see this stream because of the trees and a slight hill, I was able to hear the rushing water. The closer I got, the louder the churning water grew. What I heard sounded much more like a river than it did a stream. I was shocked when I finally saw my auxiliary fishing spot. 

Normally, the stream was twelve or so feet wide and ran in a three-foot rut the water dug into the ground over the years. Now this stream filled the rut, overflowed from there and now spread thirty to forty feet wide, so much water forced its way down-stream, it looked more like something for rough river rafting. Fishing here was pointless. 

It became quite obvious to me the clog in the first stream diverted the flow of water to this one. If I wanted to find a place to fish, I had to continue on until I was above whatever caused the dam. I would not find any water deep or tame enough in which to enjoy one of my favorite outdoor activities here. 

It was a beautiful day. The walk was scenic, but I was still in the mood for some fishing. I hoped I would not have to hike too much further before I found stiller water. I could not fish in an empty stream like the first or in a torrential river like the second. 

An hour later I finally saw what stopped one stream and directed the water to the second. I was not near enough to see the clog yet, but I could see the cause. An incredible mass of rock and dirt fell from the almost mountainous hillside. The mudslide covered one stream for hundreds of feet. 

A moderately sized pond formed where the slowing water shifted to merge with the torrential stream. There was no way I would ever unclog it; the course and speed of these two streams changed forever. I hoped the newly formed pond would make a good fishing spot. Walking for an hour and a half to get here each time might get tedious after a while though. 

Getting myself across the flume turned out to be much more difficult than I anticipated. My feet sank in the thick dark-red mud, and some sections still shifted when disturbed. Several times I fell and almost broke the rod and reel in my hand. I slipped on the loose mud at one point and dropped my tackle box. The latch holding the box closed unsnapped, and the contents spilled out all over the soft dirt. This was obviously a very recent mudslide as the debris appeared not to have settled at all yet. Disappointed, I decided my best course of action was to pick up the spilled contents of my tackle box and turn back. 

As I gathered my scattered tackle, I glanced up to see the mudslide exposed a rocky opening to what appeared to be a cavern. I lived my whole life here and explored virtually all of the terrain within a day or two’s walk from my house. I knew of some small cavern networks, but I knew of none near my current location. I wondered as to where, if anywhere, the open aperture might lead. 

Once I finished gathering my tackle, I very carefully made my way off of the mudslide and back to solid ground. It took me longer to get back than it did for me to get where I took my spill as I was now being very cautious. I did not want to fall again and dump out my tackle, or even worse break my expensive fishing rod. 

I found a good spot to stash my fishing gear, made sure I had my flashlights and two large spools of fishing line, then began to climb my way up the mountain. Living in the mountains my entire life and spending so much time exploring the wilderness, I became a rather skilled climber. As long as I was not trying to scale a cliff, if the slope was seventy degrees or less, I could make it without the use of climbing gear. 

I chose a climbing spot several hundred feet from the obvious edge of the mudslide. The earthen cavity was not too high up the small mountain, and it only took me about twenty-five minutes to reach it. Scattered stones rose from the grass and moss covering much of the hill which made the climbing much easier. 

When I peeked my head into the cavern and gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, I thought I could make out a very dim glow emanating from inside. I thought it might simply be the sunlight illuminating a cloud of mist or dust. Perhaps it was a bio-luminescent mold or bacterial growth in the damp cave walls. 

I checked my flashlights to make sure I did not damage them when I fell. The bulbs shined brightly in each one, so I felt confident I would be fine. Turning the lights back off, I stepped a little deeper into the cave and further away from the warming rays of the sun. As my eyes progressively adjusted to the dimmer light, I steadily made my way in a bit deeper. 

I did indeed see a dim yellowish glow coming from deeper inside the cavern. The tunnel was natural, and very irregular in shape, so it was not possible for me to see the source of the strange light. I heard of luminescent plants, fungi and even some deep-sea animals producing their own light, but this appeared much too bright for something like that. 

Before I lost sight of the daylight, I tied the end of my fishing line to a small rock outcropping. If my lights failed, or if I got turned around the wrong way, I could use the line to find my way back out of the ground. I learned this life saving lesson the first time I went into a small cavern with so many branches, twists and turns I found myself lost. Luckily that time I found my exit before the battery in my flashlight was exhausted. 

I slid the red filter over the bulb of the lamplight, adjusted the dial to the dimmest possible setting then closing my eyes tightly, I turned on the lamplight. Confident I had it on the lowest setting, I slowly opened my eyes. I was cautious not to blind myself before exploring any deeper, and with the light on dim the batteries would last longer. The red filter would allow my eyes to stay adjusted to the very low level of light. 

Some places in this crude passageway were tall and wide enough so as not to cause me any problems. Most of it though was short and narrow. In these places I had to crawl or even shuffle forward on my stomach to get through. I felt relieved any time I found a larger opening. In these places I knew I could turn myself around. It was very comforting to know, if I hit a dead end, I would not have to back myself up all the way to the surface. 

Progress was slow, but that was to be expected. In such small passages of jagged rocks and rugged ground, I needed to take a lot of care to avoid seriously injuring myself. Almost half an hour into my trek, I stopped to rest for a moment. In order to preserve my light’s battery, I turned it off as I set there to rest. 

It was not so obvious with the light on, but with my light off that slightly green tinted, yellow glow appeared to be getting brighter. I was not sure if it was because I was in absolute darkness or if it was brighter than it was when I was still near the entrance. I sat there for five or ten minutes. Glancing further into the cave, I tried to find a source. Too many twists and turns remained ahead of me to get a clear look. 

After climbing, walking and crawling through the bowels of the earth for nearly two hours, the small capillary in which I traveled spread into a larger cave. Unfortunately, a fifteen-foot rock facing separated me from the opening. I had to climb up the damp rock to continue my journey. 

I turned my light off and sure enough I found the strange glow to be even brighter here. It was even bright enough to allow me to climb without the use of my flashlight. First, I tugged and shook on the stones of the wall to make sure they were good and stable before I began my ascent. 

At the top of the rock face, the ground leveled out into a large grotto. I crawled into the large space and quickly brought myself to my feet. Finally, I found the astounding source of the strange light. I could not wrap my mind around what I saw. The grotto was only a niche in a much-much larger cave. 

Covering the walls and ceiling were hundreds of thousands of insects twice the size of a man. The creatures crawled about, and the whole place seemed to sparkle as the giant bugs turned on and off luminescent bulbs at the end of their abdomen. They produced a yellow light, but occasionally and very briefly some of their wings flashed a bright green. 

Fear wrapped its strangling fingers around my throat for a moment. I could not breathe. Seeing such massive insects shook me and left me unable to move. I did not know what these things ate, but I certainly did not want to be on their menu.  The giant insects clung to the ceiling and walls, crawling around the stone and over each other. When I finally decided it appeared the massive bugs had no interest in me, I continued to move forward. 

The grotto in which I stood was far above the floor of the giant cavern, so I was unable to see what was below. I slowly moved forward until I could see what was at the bottom. I was most assuredly afraid, but I believed I made an astonishing discovery. In the luminous cave, I found something no other human in recorded history ever set eyes on. 

Illuminated by the swarm of insects above I saw mushrooms the size of trees covering much of the cavern floor, and giant stalagmites rose into the air. I heard of fossils of mushrooms this size being found, but no reports in modern times of any live fungi this large were ever made. None of the insects appeared to be on the ground. Apparently, they stayed on the walls and ceiling. I thought perhaps they consumed the mushrooms, and I wanted to get down there so I could take a better look. 

Something of a ramp ran along the wall connecting the grotto to the lower level. Some of the bugs crawled on and around the ramp, but this appeared to be the only way down. If I wanted to explore the bottom, I had to get through the giant beetles. This was something I definitely did not want to do, but I had no choice if I wanted to see more. 

Very slowly, I began to take one tiny step after another. To my relief, the enormous insects stayed safely away from me. Whenever I approached one, it would slowly scurry out of my way. They seemed to be leery of me, but not afraid. 

The ramp was long, and moving as slowly as I did, it took me nearly an hour before I could better see what was below. Here and there I saw the beetles feeding on the top of the mushrooms. An amazingly large variety of mushrooms grew in this strange place, but the creatures appeared to be particular in what they ate. Displaying none of their bioluminescence, the beetles chewed the tops off what look like morels. 

The bugs quietly descended from the walls or ceiling landing on these thirty-foot-tall mushrooms. They did not fly down; it was more like they were gliding as if to make no sound. For only minutes at a time the giant insects fed. As they abandoned their eating spot, they ascended quickly into the air. Fluttering about for several minutes, the beetles then found a landing place on the ceiling or walls. 

A ridge varying in height from a foot to fifteen feet tall stood between me and what was beyond in the cave. Initially I thought it was some natural rock formation. Upon closer inspection, I found the ridge to be composed of feces. The massive lightening bugs crawled on the walls and released their droppings from there. I started to worry a massive dropping from one of the huge things from that height might kill me. I found the shortest place and as quickly as I possibly could I jumped across. 

I still landed at the edge of the fecal ridge and almost lost my balance. When my feet shifted slightly under me, I came close to falling backward into the pile of insect dung. It did not stink that much at even a short distance, but the discards held a deeply pungent odor up close. I nearly vomited at the thought of almost falling into it. 

My first spool of fishing line exhausted shortly after I reached the grotto. I looked for a good place to tie off my second spool, but I changed my mind. With the yellow lights crawling about, the ramp was obvious and visible. I decided to hang on to it for later use. 

The fungi forest was comprised of mushrooms varying from an inch to thirty feet in height. Feeling the stalks, I found them to be at least as hard as wood. Some mushrooms grew in tight clusters, reaching a height of only six feet or so with much smaller caps and tender stalks. 

Because of the size of the mushrooms and their caps, seeing into the fungal forest was nearly impossible. Only specks of light from above found its way between the caps and onto the cavern floor. Given the near absolute darkness of the forest, I found a narrow, five-foot-tall stalk to which I could attach my fishing line. 

I had to use my flashlight if I was going to go any further. I made sure I still had the red filter in my powerful lamplight. Keeping the power adjusted to the dimmest setting, I turned it on and allowed my eyes to acclimate to the darkness. Using a bright white light would keep me blinded to everything on which I was not shining it. 

An amazing number of different mushrooms filled the area. Some of them resembled mushrooms with which I was familiar, but many more were much stranger. In this subterranean world, plants did not have the necessary sunlight to develop. The fungus here was allowed to evolve and grew much more so than on the surface. 

I tied off my line, and after scanning the area for a good five minutes, I slowly and cautiously began to enter the mushroom forest. Fecal material from the insects dripped off the caps here and there, but not too frequently. When I looked at some of the shorter stalks, I saw many of the round caps were concave and not convex. It appeared these mushrooms evolved to absorb nutrients from the top rather than what was on the ground and below the slick, thin soil. 

Slowly I scanned the area with my flashlight and then began cautiously moving into the fungi forest. Thus far I saw no forms of animal life beside myself with the obvious exception of the giant insects. I was sure I would see rodents and possibly common insects, but there was nothing but the colossal mushrooms. 

I had to be careful to watch my step. The cave was probably at one-hundred percent humidity, and although the ground was mostly rocky, it was very slick. I did not know if it was fungi, a sort of algae or simply the dampness, but I almost slipped on the slimy surface several times. The last thing I needed was to injure myself and be unable to get back out. 

At one point, the ground began to slope. It only dropped gradually at first, but the floor became steeper and steeper. I tried to find a way around it, but the slope seemed to cover the whole ground area. With the rocks so slippery, I almost turned back. Right before I turned to go, I noticed the sloping ground turned into what appeared to be another ramp leading even deeper into the earth. 

I decided to proceed and see where this new ramp led. Something suddenly dawned on me and left my head spinning. It became obvious to me this was not a natural ramp. Clear tool marks scoured the wall and floor. I would think perhaps it was carved by primitive man a long time ago, but there was a dry trail leading right through the middle. Something used this ramp often enough and maintain a worn path. 

I would think the narrow trail worn through the slime on the floor to be made by some animal, but the tool marks proved otherwise. At this point I really thought about turning around and running back to the exit. This was quite terrifying, but it was also exhilarating. I was probably about to discover an intelligent species no human ever encountered. I could only hope they were a benevolent race. 

They did seem to be completely isolated from the rest of the world, so it was very possible they never encountered someone from the human race in the past. There was a possibility that could make me seem very frightening to them. 

I carefully made my way to the ramp. With the steady drop of the slope, I still feared the danger of slipping and falling. I made it about twenty feet down the ramp when I heard a loud hissing sort of screech far behind me. I could hear the frantic fluttering of wings. It suddenly occurred to me, the reason the giant insects descended quietly, fed for only a few minutes, then fluttered loudly back to the upper section of the chamber. They were avoiding and warning the others of a predator. 

Now I did not know what to do. I wondered if I walked past or right under whatever just attacked that giant bug. If I did encounter something, I had no idea what to expect. If I did pass one, why did it not attack me? 

Then it dawned on me. The reason I saw no other animal life here on the ground was because everything was overhunted to the point of extinction. There was nothing at the ground level for these predators to eat except for the occasional unfortunate insect. Terror washed over me as I realized I may be their next meal. 

Horror coursed through every nerve in my body making me shiver with fright. Standing there at the top of this ramp, I realized I would assuredly become food if one of those predators found me. I was not sure if I would be safer in a clearing so I could better see something coming, or if I should go back into the forest of mushrooms. There I may be more concealed, but so would anything out there hunting me. I now deeply regretted my decision to explore this wondrous world on my own. 

Moving very slowly, controlling my breathing, and otherwise trying to remain silent, I used my fishing line to lead me back to my original location. I maybe made it a hundred feet when I felt a forceful tug pull on the plastic line. Nothing else happened for a few minutes, then I felt the fishing line begin to twitch and vibrate. 

Whatever the thing was, it was following the line and could be making its way to me. Now I was faced with one of the greatest challenges yet. I could keep following my line and hope whatever held it would let it go, or I could move deeper into the haunting, fungi forest and take the chance of becoming hopelessly lost. 

I could hear nothing. Whatever was following my line made no sound I could hear. The tugging on the string told me whatever it was, it was getting closer. I resolved to the fact I had to let go and hide amongst the giant fungal stalks. 

It was not possible for me to turn off my light. Without it, I would do nothing but stumble around in the darkness. I kept it dim and left the red filter in place. I hoped, since whatever this was lived in a subterranean world, it would have very poor eyesight at the least. 

If this thing did have poor or no eyesight, it had to rely on other senses. At that moment I noticed how loud my breathing seemed to be in the silence of the cap covered forest. Each step I took now sounded to me like a bolder hitting the ground. 

I tried to calm myself and ease my breath and took great care in keeping my footfalls silent. Slowly I moved away from my lifeline and stepped further into the fungi forest. I did not know what was coming toward me, but this was its world. If I did not keep quiet, this thing was sure to follow me. 

If one of these creatures was near, it only made sense to reason that more of them would be stalking about. I could be surrounded by these predators and not even know it. I truly wished I never came to this subterrainian world, especially not alone. No one else knew I was here. If something was to happen to me, my body would probably never be recovered. 

I stood with my back against one of the giant fungi stalks and watched for whatever followed my line. Finally, something came into view. It was like no creature I ever saw or heard of. It appeared somewhat human, but its features were grotesquely distorted. Its arms and legs stretched a foot or two longer than a normal person. It crawled on all fours, plucking at the line as it went. The torso was short, and its neck was afixed to the back of its head instead of below the jaw, making it face straight forward in a terrifyingly distorted way. 

Suddenly it stopped at the point where I let go of the line and stepped deeper into the forest. Sniffing the ground, it began to follow my scent toward my current position. With it coming toward me, I got a better look at the hideous face. Its eyes appeared a milky white giving it the appearance of a corpse. Its nose was long and sharp, which it used to track me. The ears were massively oversized, which told me it could hear very well. 

I tried stepping backwards, but I could not watch it and where I was going at the same time. I turned and began to walk away, but it obviously heard me. It scuttled along the ground with rapid motions and would be upon me very soon. I tried getting away as fast as I could, but my feet were not made for this terrain. This thing obviously was. It was on me in no time. 

The creature sprung through the air from twenty feet away to crash down right on top of me. I felt its talons dig into my skin as it knocked me to the ground. The pain was absolutely excruciating. I did not know if it had venom in its talons or if it was simply the bacteria and grime under its nails. Whatever it was, it stung immensely, like lye poured into a wound. 

I wrestled with the beast as it tried to pin me solidly against the ground. The creature evolved for this underground world, but it was not built for fighting something like me. It had a very poor range of motion in its neck, and it could barely lower its head toward me, which put me at somewhat of an advantage. I struggled against this thing, then I managed to reach my shin and remove the fishing knife I kept tucked in my boot. 

In our struggle, I almost dropped the knife several times. Finally, I obtained a solid grip on the handle and plunged the blade straight into its chest. When the metal pierced its sickly pale flesh, it let out a piercing scream. It squealed so loudly, the volume caused my ears to throb. With it distracted from the pain, I managed to free myself from its grasp, and I plunged the knife into it over and over. Ichor so dark red it was almost black spilled out of its wounds. It covered my shirt, arms and face. The stench was so intense I almost began to vomit. 

Finally, the thing stopped its screaming and struggling and fell limp on top of me. As I fought to roll the beast off of me, I heard the screams of others in the distance. Others heard its piercing screech and were no doubt coming to its aid. 

It was difficult in this mushroom forest for me to determine the direction from which the other screams came. I could not tell if it was an echo effect or if the things were surrounding me. I put the deceased creature to my back and began to run as fast as the slick ground allowed. In our struggle, I lost my sense of direction and could only pray I was not running back to the ramp descending deeper into the earth. If I was to survive this ordeal, I needed to find a way back to the sunlit world. Going further down would surely mean my demise. 

Here and there I could see a bit of light coming from the ceiling crawling insects. I looked for some sign as to which direction my exit might be, but I could only make out small portions of the ceiling at a time. I could not see the walls of the giant cavern at all. My only hope was to keep in the direction I was headed. 

I heard these things screeching softly and knew they were closing in on me quick. I picked up my pace and made no more effort trying to be quiet. These encroaching creatures followed my scent, so noise really did not matter at this point. Even as adept as these creatures were to this terrain, I could hear their taloned digits scuffling toward me. 

I turned back as I was running in an attempt to see my pursuers. I only turned for a very brief moment, but that was far too long. I should not have looked back, because as soon as I did, I slid on a cone of insect dung and plunged face first into a six-foot-tall pile of guano fallen between some of the giant mushroom caps. What came next was the last thing I would expect. The grotesque abomination ran right past me. It continued another fifty feet or so, and then screeched so loudly, it echoed through the forest. 

Four more of these abominations of what might have once been humans arrived at my location. They screeched back and forth, talking I guess. Fanning out, they sniffed the ground and mushroom stalks in the immediate area. On two occasions, the creatures moved right around me. 

It was the dung. Apparently, these things relied mostly on their sense of smell. As disgusting as it was, sinking into the pile of insect feces saved my life. The smell of the guano was much stronger than my own scent, so I was now invisible to them. 

They continued to scan the area, following the scent of my trail which led me here. I could not really say how long they searched for me as time felt meaningless. Eventually, they gave up and all five ran off in the direction I believed the descending ramp to be. I waited for a long time. I waited to see if I could hear any of them before I moved. 

I tried to clean the lens of my flashlight, but I could not get it to produce enough illumination to be useful. Feces smeared on the lens blinded the glow. There was one option available to me, I could remove the dung smeared filter and shine it in its normal brightness. I was entirely certain these creatures were blind, so I did not worry about the glow of my electric lamp drawing any of their attention. 

Now I could see the slick ground and the large stalks clearly. It was an amazing sight, were I not terrified beyond comprehension. All that mattered now was getting out of here. 

Slowly and quietly I rose to a standing position. I tucked my pants into my boots and filled my jeans with the dung. I filled my pants pockets. I tucked my shirt into my pants and filled that as well. I caked it on the outside of my jeans. The smell was ghastly and the fumes stung my nose and caused my eyes to burn. Struggling not to vomit, I caked as much of the material on my body as would stick. 

Once I felt comfortable my scent was sufficiently masked, I began to walk toe to heel very slowly. Very quietly I moved forward scanning the area with my large flashlight. It was hard to say how long I walked, but my heart raced with excitement when my lamp shined upon a wall of stone. I reached the side of the cavern. 

I moved along the wall watching the lightening bugs above. I was trying to find some indication as to where my ramp to the outside was. I thought it would be easy to locate, but from this angle, it was really difficult to tell. Eventually I reached a rather large patch devoid of the massive mushrooms. 

Scanning the walls, I finally located the ramp by which I entered. It was on the far side of the cavern. I went the wrong direction and was now the furthest from my exit as I could possibly be.  Tears ran from my eyes, not from the horribly pungent odor covering my body, but because of the fact I knew I would never leave this place. 

My lips began to tremble as I fell to my knees. As hard as I was trying to escape this dungeon, all I did was get myself even deeper into the nightmare. It seemed all hope was lost until I looked upward. A light shined into the cavern from above. I thought it no more than an illusion, a figment of my terrified mind desperate for escape, but after a few moments I was sure it was real. 

It was probably one hundred feet or so up a steep incline. Regaining my composure, I rose to my feet and started making my way along the base of the wall. The wall was steep, but it was also very craggy. The rocks provided plenty of hand and footholds. It was well within my ability to climb. I just had to make sure I did not let myself slip on the slick rocks at the bottom. 

I wiped the drying dung from my hands. I could not hold onto my flashlight and climb at the same time, so I undid part of my belt, slipped it through the handle then re-buckled it. I would not be able to direct my light very well at all, but it did allow me to see the stone wall immediately in front of me. 

Carefully and quietly, I began my ascent. The craggy wall was slick at the bottom but became drier and coarser as I moved upward. It was a long climb. I wanted to go as fast as I could, but I had to continue to be as quiet as I could be. I was very careful to make sure each stone was firmly in place before putting any weight on it. I did not want to kick a rock loose or anything else to alert the abominations in the fungi forest as to my current location. 

When I was almost two thirds of the way to my escape, my left foot slipped underneath me. I managed to keep my grip, but I smashed my leg against the stone. My shin scraped against the rock, and from sheer instinct I almost cried out in pain. I was able to restrain myself and did not shout as my instincts told me to do. 

Planting my feet once again on the stone jutting out below me, I continued my climb to the glorious light of the sun shining through the small hole. As I approached the exit, I saw the carapace of some of the lightening bugs here and there. It looked like perhaps the insects died, fell down the wall and wedged into the rocks. 

My heart raced and my ears rang as my blood pressure increased. Anxiety, fear and joy caused my head and knees to shake. I had to be careful. I was too close to my escape, and I was not going to let this opportunity slip away from me. It was a blessing to find this opening after I journeyed so far from my original entrance. 

Determining the size of the opening when I was at the floor of the cavern was difficult, but as I got closer and closer, I could see the opening was plenty large enough for me to crawl out. It was fortunate for me as I worried I may have to jar stones loose to widen the opening. 

An unbelievable sense of relief washed over me when the warm light began to shine on my face. The rays of the sun never looked so beautiful. I grabbed onto the outer edge of the hole and pulled myself out. I nearly let loose when I saw what covered the slope outside. 

Spread across the ground I saw hundreds or possibly thousands of the chitinous shells of lightening bugs. That was not what terrified me so much. When I looked around, I saw the bones of cattle, deer and all sorts of wild animals. That meant either the poor animals somehow wandered into the cavern, which seemed unlikely, or the more logical answer was these monsters hunted outside of their subterranean world. 

A wave of nausea, numbness and horror washed over me when I saw the skulls and bones around me. Among all the animal bones and insect carapace, I saw the skulls of several human beings. I did not know how they ended up being a part of this field of bones. Perhaps these creatures were responsible for the occasional unfortunate missing hiker in the mountains over the years. 

As I started to pull myself the rest of the way out of the darkness, I felt something grab hold of my legs. I screamed in agony as something sharp pierced my flesh. The pain was so intense I could not breathe, and it burned, like lye. 

My heart was still beating as I felt those subterranean terrors rip the flesh from my legs. Here I was so close to escaping back into my world, and the underground humanoids located me. Their sharp talons tore into my abdomen, and I could no longer hold myself out of the hole. 

I did not realize my excitement to reach the surface increased my blood pressure which caused the abrasion on my shin to bleed. I covered myself in guano to hide from them, and they located me over the scent of the blood from a small scrape on my leg. 

The deformed beasts pulled me into the hole as they ripped the organs from my body. Right there, they feasted on my flesh. Helplessly I watched them tearing me apart; then suddenly everything got cold. The darkness of death finally took me. 

I was so close. I reached the warm, welcoming sunlight and thought I was safe. I was dead wrong, literally. I was momentarily back in my world and those abominations drug me back into theirs. Soon, after they were done feasting on my soft flesh, I would return to the surface take my place as part of the bone yard. 

 Copyright © 2023

Views: 2

We Didn’t Know

Word Count: 5,359

It was a beautiful early summer day. The sun was shining, there were only a few clouds in the sky and a light breeze prevented it from feeling too hot outside. It was the perfect weekend to go on a fishing trip. 

My friend Brad and I planned this trip three weeks ago, and we were so happy to find the weather was beautiful and not gray and raining. Brad’s wife brought their two kids over to my house where my wife was staying behind with our son. 

I was so happy to be able to go off on this three-day fishing trip. We got everything packed and loaded yesterday, so all we had to do was hook the boat up to the truck and go. We got off to a very early start since the lake we were headed to was a little shy of being a two-hour drive. We did not want to get there too late because we still had to get our tents and camp set up, and our yo-yos tied to some trees. 

Every month Brad and I take a mini vacation while our wives watch the children, then two weeks after that Brad and I watch the children while our wives go out and have some fun. Their time away usually did not last as long as ours simply for the fact they spent their money on their weekends much faster than me and Brad. Brad and I slept in tents, ate what we caught and drank beer. Our idea of a great time away from the wives and kids was very cheap compared to our wives’ time away from us. 

The drive was very beautiful and scenic. Wildflowers of all colors covered the shoulders of the road and were visible in the open fields on either side of the pavement. Large oak trees dotted the landscape here and there which provided shade for the numerous cattle grazing the bright-green fields. Man-made ponds were located near most of the trees to provide the cattle with water to drink. 

We never saw this end of the countryside before as we never went to this particular lake before this. Brad heard about it from another friend of his, and after locating it on a map, we decided that was where we would go fishing this time. We found the lake on a map, so we knew how to get there. Where to go once we got there, we would have to figure out after we got there. 

As we got closer to the lake, we saw more trees and less open space. Neither of us knew if the lake was in a forest or in the open, we only knew where it was. Judging by the gradual increase in the number of trees, I thought the lake was probably surrounded by forest. When we got to our turnoff, we found ourselves driving down an old dirt road running through some very dense woodlands. 

Driving much slower now, it took us thirty more minutes before we finally spotted the lake. We got out of the truck and walked over to the water to try to figure out how we were going to launch the boat. There did not seem to be any constructed boat landings in this location. I suggested we keep driving a bit more as I was sure there would be a boat ramp somewhere.  

We never saw any signs saying this was private property, therefore I assumed this beautiful lake would attract a lot of fishermen. The road was relatively smooth, but the surrounding terrain was very rocky. More than a few cliff faces provided a border for the water’s edge, some of them rough and some of them smooth and eroded. Following another thirty minutes of driving, we located a spot that should be perfect for releasing the boat. 

We got everything loaded into the boat then I guided Brad as he backed the truck down to the water. In less than five minutes we had the boat in the water and the truck parked well off the road. This was a routine we went through on numerous occasions, so we performed the task like clockwork. Everything we needed would not fit in the boat at once, so once we found the place we were going to make our campsite we would have to come back and get the rest. 

The lake was beautiful, surrounded by trees, rocks and cliff faces. I was really surprised we did not see any other people out here boating, fishing or skiing. The hidden body of water was more than adequately sized for all three of these activities to be going on, but so far it appeared Brad and I were the only ones here. 

We spotted a nice area with a small clearing that had a natural grass-covered ramp running to the water from the surface six feet above. The ramp fell between two large rock formations and provided an easy way back up to the flat surface at the top. Brad and I unloaded the boat, set up our tents and went back to get the rest of our things. By the time we were finally finished, it was already noon. Our original plan was to be fishing for several hours by now, but that did not happen the way we planned. 

Since it was so late already, we decided to fish from the bank and see what kind of luck we had there. We got a few nibbles here and there, but the water here was too shallow for the larger fish. Brad and I both caught some brim, and I got one decently sized catfish, so we had our supper to fry up tonight. 

Once three o’clock came around we brought the beer cooler down to the water’s edge with us. That was one rule we had when we went out fishing; we never started drinking before three in the afternoon. That prevented us from drinking too much too early, crashing and passing out before the sun went down. 

By the time we were ready to stop fishing and clean our catch, we caught nearly two dozen fish. Sure, some of them were small, but we had plenty to feed us well tonight. I could not wait to chow down on some fresh fish, and it did not get any fresher than being caught to fried in a couple of hours. 

When we first started these trips, we used a stand and built a fire to heat the oil to fry our fish, but on one trip the oil got hot enough to ignite. The hot grease spilled on the ground and the fire destroyed a lot of our gear. Since then, we bring a safe propane tank with an adjustable burner hookup to do our cooking. 

We decided against lighting a campfire tonight as we both planned to try to get to sleep soon after we ate. We passed a spot in the lake on our way out here with several large trees reaching far over the water, and we thought that would be a good place to put some spring-loaded yo-yos for catching perch and other top feeders. In order to do much catching with those, we needed to get them out as early in the morning as we possibly could. That meant waking up an hour before sunrise so we would be on the water by sunrise. 

We were on our second post-meal beer when we heard something off in the distance. It was so far away and so faint, I was unable to discern what it could be. We both remained quiet, looking out into the forest, as we waited for the sound to come again. After a few more minutes, we heard it a second time. It sounded almost like children trying to imitate the sound of a flock of sheep. There was something more, something that did not sound natural about these noises. 

At this point Brad and I decided a campfire would probably be a good idea after all. I surely did not want whatever animals that made noises like that coming anywhere near our camp. Brad got the fire started while I made sure all of our lanterns had plenty of butane. We did not really care for burning our lanterns all night, but the extra light might help keep those animals, whatever they were, at bay. 

I was tired and half drunk, so it did not take me long to pass out once I climbed inside my comfortable sleeping bag. I awoke to the eerie baying sound we heard earlier; except this time, it was much closer. It sounded like it could be within fifty feet of our campsite. Now that I could hear it more clearly, I would call it more of a cackling sound than a baying. 

It was simply impossible to describe as it sounded absolutely nothing like anything I ever heard before. In all my years of hunting and fishing, I heard all sorts of animals from a wide variety of places, but I never heard anything that sounded like this. 

The strange noises did not last long, so I assumed whatever creatures were making them must have passed on by us. Just in case, I retrieved my pistol from the waist of my shorts and laid it beside my pillow. If something did come tearing into my tent, I wanted to make sure I could give it a good reason to go away. 

The next morning, I inquired of Brad as to whether he heard the noises in the darkness around midnight. He told me no; he managed to sleep soundly through the night. I was sure it was probably some sort of weasel or small rodent making the strange sounds, but I would feel a lot more at ease if I knew for sure. 

It did not take long to get our yo-yos set up. Many of the trees had low lying but sturdy branches to which we could tie the fishing contraptions. Now with these set, we needed to come back approximately once an hour to remove anything we caught and rebait the hooks. During the wait times Brad and I spent either top fishing for bass or sank our hooks low for catfish. 

It was so nice being out here all alone. It was so peaceful and quiet; I was satisfied with the fact no one else was out here. My best friend and I sat quietly in the boat with our bait in the water listening to all the wonderful songs nature had to sing for us. The sounds of the birds and insects made me feel calm and serene. Occasionally we would hear fish nipping at the surface, or turtles jumping off a log when something startled them. 

Top fishing was not doing us a lot of good in the spot we chose, but we did manage to catch eight catfish. Each time we caught a fish, we tossed it into a cooler filled about two-thirds of the way full of ice. We would dig away some ice to make room for the new fish, toss it in and cover it back up with ice again. 

Our yo-yos did surprisingly well for the day. We generally found them to work better at night and when it was cold, but we figured we would try them anyway. We pulled nine white perch out of the lake before we finally decided to head back to our camp and get off the water for a while. Before leaving, we made sure all of the yo-yos were tripped so they did not catch anything after we left. Without coming out to check them regularly, some fish might suffocate before we got around to coming back. 

As we cleaned our new catch, Brad and I discussed whether we would like to get back out on the lake to do some more fishing before the sun set, or should we rest up and go out for some night fishing. We would be heading home by dark tomorrow, so we figured if we were going to do any night fishing, it was going to have to be tonight. 

Brad fried us up some more fish as I took the remainder of the fillets, rolled them in wax paper and packed them in a clean cooler filled with unused ice. We always kept one cooler for no other reason than to store our catch once we cleaned it. That way the meat stayed fresh and uncontaminated. 

We went ahead and swapped out what gear we needed in the boat to go from day to night fishing. Getting everything we needed in the boat, then doublechecking to make sure we had what we needed, Brad and I each retired to our respective tents to grab a few hours of sleep before we set out on the lake tonight. 

There was still a good hour of sunlight left when I woke up from my nap. Going over to our beverage cooler, I popped myself open a beer before waking Brad. The ice-cold brew tasted amazing after waking up in that sauna of a tent. Even with the flaps open, I was still sweating. 

Guzzling the rest of my beer, I grabbed the drink cooler, Brad grabbed the cooler for the fish we caught, and we headed down the natural ramp to our boat. By the time we cast off from shore, it was almost completely dark. We scouted a few places earlier for where we might want to fish tonight, so we headed to the one we thought would give us the best haul. 

The insects were loud enough to be noticeable earlier, but I really loved to listen to the insects at night. In addition to the insects, frogs of all sorts were out in the night croaking, ribbeting and singing their individual nocturnal songs. Every so often it all came together and for a moment they all sang in harmony, and it sounded like the angels singing. 

I did not know why, but the sounds of nature always made me feel such at peace. There was no doubt that was why I loved my and Brad’s fishing trips. It gave us time to be away from all the stresses of normal life where we could enjoy ourselves and forget about everything else for a few days. 

I started out the night fishing the bottom for catfish, but after catching three of them I decided to switch. Instead of bottom fishing, I switched to fishing with a lure. The moon was out bright tonight, so the twinkling of a spinning lure moving through the water ought to land me at least a bass or two. 

Brad started out aiming for the smaller fish. He caught two dozen brim in the first hour alone. Deciding we had enough of those for now, he went to fishing a little deeper with a larger hook in hopes of catching more white perch. 

In slightly under two more hours, I added three largemouth bass and Brad added six more perch. It astounded me that there were not any other fishermen out here on this lake. My best friend and I were doing great, so it appeared to me this must be a closely guarded secret. Brad never said anything about his friend telling us not to tell anyone else about this place, but he may have simply forgotten to mention it. 

I was changing the lure on my line for a hook to go back to catfishing, and Brad already had his line in the water when we heard that strange, creepy noise again. This time it sounded like it was coming from the top of an eight-foot cliff that made up the boundary of this section of the lake. 

This time, being out on the water, we were able to hear the sounds much more clearly. It was a guttural, throaty, goat-like cackle, and there were more than just a few of them. Both of us quietly reeled in our lines, gently set down our poles and removed our firearms from our hips. 

I made a soft hiss to get Brad’s attention, then I indicated to him I was going to start paddling us away from this area. We were only fishing ten feet away from the water’s edge. Whatever was making that noise was right above us, and that potentially put us in an extremely vulnerable position. Brad took a seat as I moved us away so he would not fall into the water, but he kept his pistol held firmly in both hands. 

Paddling as quietly as I possibly could, I moved us sixty feet or so from the short cliff. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, I told Brad I was going to crank the motor and get us out of here. It would be a lot of noise, but there was no way we were going to quietly paddle our way back to our camp in any less than a few hours. 

My friend agreed with me, so once we got a little farther away, I started yanking the cord trying to get the motor started. After I cranked it five times without it starting, I really began to worry. Luckily on my sixth attempt, the motor started roaring. We heard eerily high pitch screaming coming from the top of the rocks we just left, and then in a second it was gone. I believed the loud sound of the boat motor on the water scared away whatever was up there. 

Brad now sat in the front of the boat with a spotlight to watch for any obstacles that might be floating in the water. Both of us had our firearms holstered since we needed to be able to use our hands for other things. I never thought to turn on the nighttime running lights, but I did not suppose it really mattered anyway. There was no one else out here on this lake. 

It felt like it took us twice as long to get back to camp as it did to get to the fishing spot, and we were moving much faster than we were earlier. Images of all sorts of nasty creatures ran through my head as I pondered what it was up on that cliff making those strange cackling sounds. I did not know if those were the same ones we heard near our camp, or if there were multiple groups of them roaming the forest. 

When we reached the shore where we set up our camp, I was not thinking, and I did not raise the motor soon enough. It hit the bottom hard and sheared the pin that kept the prop in place. Once Brad pulled the front of the boat onto land, I jumped out of the back of the boat to retrieve the prop from where it laid in the bottom of the shallow water. 

I examined the boat’s motor and there appeared to be no damage other than a few scrapes and the stripped pin. We should easily be able to rig something up using any number of items from our list of fishing equipment. Brad waited until I was out of the water and we both climbed the steep hill as fast as we could. 

I noticed immediately and pointed out to Brad that something got into our coolers where we were storing the fish. They were opened, but not overturned. Any wild animal would open the cooler by turning it over on its side, but something opened the lids and left them open. 

It was obvious from looking around that whatever took the fish from the ice filled coolers also rummaged around our camp before leaving. As quickly as we could, Brad and I started packing up and bringing our things down by the boat. He suggested we take the most expensive things first, and I had to agree with him. It took two trips to get everything out here, and we did not want to have to come back for more of our things once we left. 

All the while we did this, we both found several items that should serve well as a pin to hold the prop in place until we could get back to the truck. I worked on using several pieces of thick copper wire as a makeshift pin to keep the blades and motor connected hopefully at least as long as it took us to get back to where we parked the day before. Once this task was complete, I went back up the hill to help Brad with the last of our things. 

I arrived to what remained of our camp to find Brad standing motionless. I could see the terror on his face as he stared at something concealed behind my tent. From my position I could not see what it was, and I did not want to get any closer to find out one way or another. I could not and would not abandon my friend though, and my mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. 

Finally, I drew my pistol from my side and slowly started inching my way toward my friend. I wished he would give me some indication of what to do, but his gaze was fixed on something outside my view. My knee popped and a fraction of a second later I heard those high-pitched screams. Those things did not see Brad standing there until they heard the crack of my bum knee. 

I saw the abominations as they fled from our presence. The creatures were small, only a few feet tall, and ran on their hind legs. They looked like goats, like little goats that walked in the upright position. Black fur surrounded their eyes which blended straight into their thick eyebrows. They looked like a lot of pictures of the devil I saw during the course of my life. 

Terrified beyond imagination, I fired off three shots from my pistol without even thinking about it. I struck one of the creatures and brought it down, but the rest of them got away. As I stood there in a state of shock, Brad began calling my name. He had to call out to me several times before I finally noticed him. 

He was saying we had to go after them. I told him there was no way I was chasing those little creatures anywhere, especially into a dark forest. I said we should get back to the truck and go, just get out of here now. That was when Brad informed me that unfortunately, one of the creatures ran off carrying his fanny pack, which held among other things the keys to the truck. 

My stomach churned at the thought of hunting those things down, but if we had to, we had to. I reloaded my pistol and grabbed the biggest flashlight we had. Brad put a banded light on his head and carried another flashlight in his hand. Armed with guns and flashlights, we started down the hill leading through the woods in the direction we saw the creatures flee. 

Before we left our camp, I took a closer look at the thing I shot. It almost had a human-like quality to it. Instead of feet or hooves, it had three hoof-like toes on each foot about the thickness of a man’s pinky finger. Short white fir covered its lower body and back. Its arms and hands were like those of a human child with the addition of being covered in a fine, white, felt-like fur. The face was like that of a small goat except that it had no horns on its head. 

Brad sternly told me to get moving. We could not let them get too far with our keys or we would never get them back. Reluctantly following him, we ventured deeper into the forest. The ground was rough and rocky for the most part, and we had to be careful so as not to trip or lose our balance and fall. I really did not think there was any hope of getting back our keys, but I would help my friend try. 

Those little creatures moved fast, so if they kept on going after leaving our sight, they would be long gone by now. The only hope we had of getting the keys to the truck back was if they only ran a short way and then hid. It was like trying to rabbit hunt in the dark using a pistol while terrified out of our minds. 

We searched the forest for fifteen minutes when we heard something that made our bones chill. It was like a loud baying scream, like the sound of a tortured soul. This did not really sound like the small creatures we encountered. Whatever made this noise sounded much larger than those things. 

That was it. I was done trying to find the keys we were certain never to find. I told Brad I was going back to the boat, keys or no keys. We could at least take the boat back to the road and walk from there. Searching the forest for his fanny-pack was a futile endeavor. I think that baying scream scared Brad as much as it did me, because he afforded me no opposition on the matter. 

We were about half-way back when we heard something coming through the brush. It was moving quickly and would be on us soon. Close to us was a rock formation primarily consisting of three large slabs. It appeared that underneath the slabs was sufficient room for Brad and me to hide. We managed to get ourselves well-hidden before the beasts arrived. We could not see much of them because of our positioning, but we did get a good look at their feet. The feet were the same as the one I shot and killed, except these were much larger and more developed. 

Moments later we again heard that baying scream, but this time it was joined by the cries of the others. That was when I realized what I did. Those creatures rummaging through our camp and the ones making all the noise on the cliff, they were just children playing. We were so terrified of the unknown, we never stopped to consider anything. I shot and killed a small child in cold blood, then I looked at it like it was a dead rat. 

I was at a complete loss of what to do. All I could think about what the fact that I murdered a child, an innocent child, all because I was afraid of what I thought it was. Now it looked like these beings were gathering together to hunt us down. If that was indeed the case, I would not let Brad suffer for my sins. 

I could not say how long we stayed hidden under that slab of rock. I had on my watch, but I had not looked at it since we were out on the boat fishing. I could see what time it was now, but I had no clue what time it was when we hid. Everything remained quiet, and we saw no more feet passing by, so we decided to come out of our hiding places and start trying to get out of here. 

Going back to our camp was not an option. If those creatures had any sense, they would leave some of their people waiting at the camp for us to return. Instead, we decided to make our way to a narrow part of the lake and swim over to the other side from there. That would put us close to the truck. Then we could smash the window of the truck and use the navigation service to send out the authorities. 

Our camp was to the north, the goat beings came from the south, and we started off to the west. Brad and I tried the best we could to refrain from making any noise as we made our trek in the darkness. Obviously, we could not use our flashlights. Those would just let those creatures hunting us know exactly where we were. We were just going to have to travel by moonlight alone. 

This was not an easy task by any means. The moon was out bright, and the pine trees in this area did not provide as much canopy cover as hardwood trees, but it was still very difficult to see where we were going. The semi-rocky ground presented many opportunities to trip on a stone jutting from the ground and fall. I was sure those beings would have a heightened sense of hearing, so remaining quiet was essential to our survival. 

When I heard a horn sound not too far behind us, I was sure we were spotted. Those things wanted revenge for me killing one of their children, and I could not blame them for that. If someone shot my child in cold blood, I would take justice out on them myself. Brad had nothing to do with that child’s death, and I could not let him suffer for my ignorance and fear. 

Suddenly I cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Brad stopped to help me, but my leg was broken. I was not going anywhere. Brad insisted he could help me along, but I was not going to let him get caught because of me. I insisted he think of his wife and kids. I was not going to make it out of here alive, and there was no point in the both of us dying. 

My friend did not want to abandon me, but he knew the reality of the situation just as much as I did. There was no way he could outrun these things supporting me with a useless leg. Tears ran from his eyes the final time I told him to go, get away from here and get back to his family. He threw his arms around me and hugged me tight. We were best friends since grade school. We never did anything without the other one. Now he had to go and leave me here to die to save his own life. 

Finally, Brad turned and continued running toward the thinnest section of the lake. Once I was sure he was gone, I stood up and began walking back toward the sound of the horn. The only hope Brad had of getting away was if these creatures got what they wanted, so I had to make him think he had no choice but to leave me behind. 

Several of the goat-men emerged from the darkness from all directions. Very slowly and with the tips of my fingers, I dropped the shells from my gun. I hung my head in shame as I stretched my arms out wide, holding the butt of my pistol with the tips of my index finger and thumb. 

One of them grabbed my firearm from me from behind, then I felt them seize both of my arms. The creature who was standing directly in front of me, staring at me as the others took hold of me began walking toward me as it withdrew a large bone knife from its scabbard. There was no doubt in my mind this was the father of that poor child I murdered. Even though it was not human, I could still see the pain and anger in its face. 

I cried out in agony as I was struck behind the knees with a wooden rod. No doubt my legs really were broken now. The creature in front of me grabbed my hair and forced me to look it in its eyes. It raised its polished blade high in the air, and just before he brought it down, I told him through teary eyes, “I am so sorry. I am a father too. We didn’t know.” 

Copyright © 2023

Views: 4

Another Statue

Word Count: 6,006

We had several days of unrelenting heavy snow here in the northern region of the mountains during the past few weeks. Today, even though the temperature was still extremely frigid, it was beautiful and sunny. I was cooped up in the house alone for more than a week, and I felt like I was about to go absolutely stir crazy. 

The only road leading from my house to town was closed, as were many of the roads beyond that. I was unable to go to work, the grocery store or anywhere. Fortunately, I stocked up on food and supplies when I initially heard some bad weather may be pushing its way into the region. 

The only times I went outside during this extended storm were to shovel off my back porch and around the garage door. If I did not shovel regularly, I would not be able to get out of the house once the snow finally ended. Even the phone lines were down so I could not call anyone. I was up here all by myself. 

I felt blessed being given a nice day like it was today, so I decided I would get out my snowmobile and check out the surrounding countryside. I wondered if the whole region got hit with as much snow as what fell on my house. After getting dressed in the appropriate attire for this type of outing, I headed to the garage. First checking to make sure the gas tank was good and full; I opened the garage door before turning on the engine. 

As I allowed it about ten minutes to warm up, I checked all of my supplies to make sure they were all there. I had my tent, emergency mylar sleeping bags, hand warmers, a flare gun and three flares, a heated thermos, a first aid kit and various other supplies. Confident I had everything I might need, I climbed aboard and rode up a snow ramp I made from my driveway surface to the top of the heavily fallen snow. There must have been at least three to four feet of new snow in most places. 

I knew all the land to the south-east, but I never took the time yet to explore the wilderness to the north. I decided since today was my first day out of the house in almost a week, I would go check out the partially forested areas I had yet to see. The southern area was mostly just farms not worthy of the time it would take to explore. 

With work, and the long commute to and from, I did not have a lot of time to do much exploring since I inherited the house from an uncle last spring. It is presumed he went out on his ATV and some sort of accident befell him during this outing. His ATV and some climbing gear seemed to be the only things missing from the house after his disappearance. Search and rescue found some of his belongings, but never did find him. The final conclusion was wild animals got to his body before the recovery team could. 

I never knew my uncle personally. I grew up in the south, and probably only saw him twice in my life. That was when I was very little. I could scarcely remember what he looked like, and I was sure most of those vague memories of his face were from photographs my grandmother used to show me. 

He and my father became rather wealthy together prospecting in precious metals. My father relocated with my pregnant mother to the city where I was born and raised. My uncle, who had no family of his own, moved way out here where he lived the rest of his life all by himself. He left me an amazing two-story log house and a lot of land, but it was extremely lonely up here. 

Becoming aware I was standing there staring off into the distance, I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts. I did not want to dwell on those emotional issues today. Today I planned to enjoy this day of sunshine and no strong winds. 

Turning the throttle, I was quickly on my way. The wind was extremely cold on my face, but the parka I was wearing was amazingly efficient. I could not imagine what the wind, both from the harsh weather and from the wind created by the moving vehicle, would do to exposed skin in this extreme cold. 

As I approached a clearing in between two large, pine forest patches I turned back to look at my new rustically luxurious home. It really was a beautiful house, and the location was great for someone who wants solitude. I had no real friends when I was a little kid, and I would not say anyone I knew today was a friend. I guess by nature I am a lonely creature like my uncle. 

I could not cruise at the fast pace I would like to since I was not yet sufficiently familiar with the terrain. If I was moving along too hastily, my reaction time would be reduced. If my reaction time was reduced, I may very well run into a rock buried in the snow or a fallen tree trunk that would halt my vehicle underneath me instantly.  

This was the top of a mountain, but one would not know that from seeing a small section. The mountain top was very wide and relatively flat. Coming from the southeast, the climb up the mountain was so gradual, one would hardly notice the incline. This way was obviously hillier and steeper, and this side of the mountain ended with a sheer cliff face. I never saw the cliff from the top, but I do remember seeing the massive stone precipice once from down in the valley when I was very little. 

Stopping for a moment while I decided on which way to proceed, I turned off the motor so as not to waste fuel. Choosing a point off in the distance, I got a bearing on my direction with my compass. I wanted to make sure I got a good measurement on my direction so in the unlikelihood I got lost, I could find my way back with minimal difficulty. 

I was startled at first but was in something of a state of awe when I saw a large herd of white-tailed deer crossing from one forest patch to the other. I never saw that many deer so up close like this; it was really quite a majestic thing to see. By my best estimate, I would say there were probably two dozen of them. 

Several had antlers, but most of them did not. The largest of the males and no doubt the leader of the herd had twelve points at least. I was really glad I chose this route. Perhaps nature would reveal some more of herself to me on this outing.  

My camera was packed on the back of my snowmobile, so I was unable to get a photo of the beautiful sight. I could reach it without getting off my vehicle, but I knew any motion would probably send the herd running. I waited until most of them passed before trying to retrieve my camera from behind me. Sure enough, that movement was enough to startle them, and they ran off in an instant. Sticking the camera in one of my pockets, I wanted to make sure I did not miss another photo opportunity like that again. 

Soon after that, the ground started to become much rockier and tree filled than the terrain closer to home. Even with the snow as deep as it was, rocks and boulders still stood high above the snowline. I probably should have turned back at that point, but I wanted to do a little more exploring. 

Moving even slower than before, I did my best to watch for any obscured obstacles in front of me. My goal was to get to that cliff face today. How far away it was exactly I did not know, but I did not think it could be too incredibly far. 

The endless white snow played an optical trick on me. I thought I was simply rounding the top of a hill in between two rock formations, but instead I found myself careening over the edge of a thirty-foot-high cliff. Everything suddenly seemed to go in slow motion for the next few seconds. The snowmobile was falling straight down in a nosedive. I was in a temporary state of shock as I watched the ground approaching. My instincts obviously kicked in because I pushed myself away from the snowmobile as hard as I could, so we did not end up landing in the same place. 

That quick reaction saved my life. The snowmobile hit the ground and shattered into a million pieces. I landed hard, but the deep snow did a lot to help break my fall. When I stood up, I was standing in a two feet deep impression shaped like me. My body was going to hurt, but I did not think I had any serious injuries. I wished I could say the same thing about my transportation. It was never again going to move under its own power. 

It looked like my pack of supplies remained intact. I felt a sense of relief when I checked the back of the wreckage and found the stuff in my pack seemed to be just fine. If I got stuck out here in the wilderness tonight, I would have a warm tent and warm water to drink. Digging out my compass, I got a bearing on the direction to my house. 

I was going to have to find a way to go around this cliff. I was not a skilled climber at all, and my thick clothing was not conducive for scaling stone. Without any climbing gear I was not even going to chance it. I would rather face the weather than try to climb the face of that cliff, even if it was much shorter than the one I originally sought. 

Keeping the three-story cliff on my left side, I began to walk. Hopefully I could find a short enough section that would allow me to climb back up to the hilly surface above. I did have a nylon rope in my pack, but I had no idea how to use it for climbing. It seemed finding a location easy enough that I could ascend was really my only option. 

I had a few hours until the sun began to set, and I traveled a fair distance on the snowmobile to end up here. Now I really wished I stayed inside today. I was getting cabin fever, so I wanted to get out for a bit. Now making it back home before dark was going to be difficult if not impossible. 

The temperature was well below freezing, but my clothing was very warm and insulating. I had heavy thermals on, my snow suit and parka on over that. Between those and my own natural body heat from the physical exertion of hiking through this snow my body stayed warm. When evening came, followed by darkness the temperature was going to drop drastically. I was going to have to wait to see how well my clothes helped me at night. 

I began to wonder if I should set up my tent and shelter down until morning. Before I did that, I tried walking a bit further looking for a way back up the cliff. Before it started getting dark, I erected my tent and filled my heated thermos with snow. I did not want to wait until I could not see before preparing to stay put for the night. 

I never used a mylar sleeping bag before. I saw them on the shelf at the store and thought they would be good to have in my emergency pack. It was supposed to reflect eighty percent of the body heat back in toward the occupant. Hopefully it really worked as advertised. If not, I may freeze to death before the night was at an end. 

The wind blew hard all night long, but my short tent held firmly in place. The canvass flapped and rattled the entire time, making it virtually impossible to get any sleep. I was happily surprised the mylar sleeping bag really did do a spectacular job of keeping me nice and warm. 

I did not notice the snow that covered my tent halfway to the top until I woke up the next morning. What time it was exactly I did not know, but I did know it was very early in the morning. The sun could not be more than an hour above the horizon. I tried to stuff my mylar sleeping bag back into its original carrier but found that to be an impossible task. I rolled it up as best I could before stuffing it into my pack. Unzipping the tent, I began to dig my way out to the surface. 

It did not take long to get out of my tent and get it stashed away as well. The canvass shelter was small and compacted well making it easy to store. I drank the water I had in my heated thermos and refilled it with some of the freshly fallen snow. That would be my water for drinking later. I returned that to my pack, threw it over my shoulder and resumed walking along the low cliff face. 

Following the cliff for several miles, I eventually found what I needed. An old rockslide created a climbable ramp I could use to get back to the level above me. I was really beginning to worry that I would not find a way back up there, and without getting back to the top of the cliff, I was not going to find a way home. 

Climbing the rockslide was not as easy as I initially anticipated. The blowing snow last night coated the rigid stones with a slick layer of white ice. Several times my feet slipped out from under me, but I was able to catch my balance before I was sent plummeting down the heap of rocks. With the top only a few feet away, I grabbed onto an exposed root to help pull myself up the rest of the way. I should have been more cautious because the root I gripped was not attached to anything but loose dirt. The dead root came free from the snowy ground, and I lost my balance, falling to my right. 

Agony sent sparks through my eyes as my right foot caught in a space between two large rocks. My curses echoed through the snowy terrain as I tried to twist my body enough to free my overstretched ankle. It did not take much effort to free my foot once I adequately turned myself over, but the damage was already done. I did not think I broke anything, but I held no doubts that I severely sprained it. 

How was I going to make it back all that way with one bad foot? Was I going to die out here now? 

I managed to get myself rolled over to my left side and tossed my pack up to the level ground only feet away from me. Using my arms and my one good leg, I slowly pulled myself the rest of the way up the rockslide. My painfully injured ankle bumped and scraped against the cold stones, and the jagged edges dug into my ribs and hip. It was extremely painful, but eventually I got my entire body off the rockslide and onto the level above. 

Rolling over onto my back, I removed one of my gloves and felt around my snow suit. I was sure I tore it on the rocks, but the padded clothing held up much better than I expected. That was a great relief. I figured my chances of survival would drop dramatically if I ripped holes in my protective clothing. Things were bad enough already with my demolished snowmobile and a sprained ankle. I did not need any more misfortune to pile up onto my current problems. 

I did not even bother with trying to stand. As intensely as my ankle throbbed, I knew there was no way my weight was going to be able to remain supported on it. I scanned around and thought for a few minutes considering what possibilities I had. There was a tree line perhaps fifty yards or so away from me, and the ground sloped downward in that direction. There I hoped I could find a broken limb big enough to utilize as a make-shift crutch. 

Rummaging through my pack, I removed the used mylar sleeping bag and spread it out on the ground. It took me a few minutes, but I finally managed to get my whole body on it while keeping it spread smooth on the snow. I put my pack on the sleeping bag with me, and using two tent spikes I slowly pulled my way over the snowy ground. With the downward slope, and the slipperiness of the mylar on top of the snow, it only took me about thirty minutes to reach the tree line. 

I rolled off the mylar bag and positioned myself on my hands and knees. Being very careful to keep my injured foot off the ground, I crawled into the cluster of leafless trees in search of a crutch. I found several branches that seemed about the right size, but their crooked shapes would make balancing difficult. 

I was getting really worried about the true direness of my predicament. Several hours already passed since sunrise, and I made it less than a hundred yards from the cliff’s edge. Unless I could find a way to speed up my progress, I would probably freeze to death out here if I did not starve first. Personally, I would have rather died in the snowmobile crash than to freeze to death. 

Trying to keep myself from going into a panic, I continued searching for something to help me walk. Thirty minutes further into my search I finally found a long sturdy limb with a V-shaped branch at one end. Although not as good as store bought crutches, the makeshift implement served its purpose well. 

I now found myself faced with another problem. If the snow was deep at all, the butt end of my crutch and my left leg could easily puncture right through the surface. I had to stay in some of the rockier areas where the snow was shallow, and the rough ground the rocks provided was difficult to navigate with one foot out of commission. 

As I rounded a large outcropping, I almost fell to my back. I very abruptly found myself walking right up on somebody standing inside a rock fissure. After the initial shock of seeing someone out here wore off, I called out to the person. I was so glad I found someone out here, even if they were trespassing on my land. He probably hid in the rocks when he saw me coming. 

My brief sense of relief quickly faded when I noticed the person was not moving. Something did not look right about this at all. A feeling of dread made my stomach churn as I looked upon the figure in front of me. I took a few steps toward it so I could get a better look at it. 

Briefly I thought it might be a statue of some sort, but the bits and pieces of wind torn clothing on it made me think otherwise. The flesh was black and dry from the exposure to the freezing air with a papery texture that reminded me of a wasp nest. The face of the ice mummy was contorted and its mouth wide open as if to scream. The arms appeared to be trying to swat something away, something that terrified this man immensely. 

I would expect to find a body in this deteriorated condition out in this frozen region, but I would expect to find it on the ground. It made my body run cold with nearly crippling fear to think of how someone could die and remain standing long enough to dry into a frozen desiccated mummy like this. Not even the negative temperatures and high winds could cause a man to freeze while standing. 

As quickly as I possibly could, I put some distance between me and that hideous standing corpse. Suddenly I began to feel an unshakable sense of paranoia, like the very rocks and trees were watching me, stalking me. I nearly fell several times as I repeatedly turned back to make sure that dried up horrific thing was not following me. 

Absolute fear and adrenalin helped numb the pain in my foot allowing me to pick up the pace a bit. I was still hampered by my injury, but the only thought on my mind was getting away from that abhorrent corpse statue. I truly hoped getting away would mean I was back at home by dark. Since I varied my speed so much and fooled around on my snowmobile coming out here, I really had only a vague idea of how far away I was from my nice warm house. 

I began to tremble, not from the cold but from the terror filling my heart and mind as I watched the sun drop slowly to the horizon. I was not back to anything I recognized yet, and I was going to end up caught out here at least one more night. The idea of being out here in the wilderness with that dried up mummy, and even worse whatever did that to him, welled up terror in me like I never knew. 

I continued on until the sun began dipping below the horizon line. I quickly looked for a place to set up my tent. I did not know where would be the safest and where would be the most perilous to sleep. I eventually chose a small cluster of trees next to a large boulder for the concealment it provided. 

Setting up my tent did not take very long, but I could not use the sleeping bag I used last night. Since I was using it as a sled of sorts, it was wet with snow melted by the friction. That wet would become ice in the cold night air, so I had to get out my back up bag. 

Using sticks and snow, I tried to conceal my tent as best as I could. I was no survivalist, and by the time I was done with my camouflage attempt, I think my tent was more obvious than before I tried hiding it. I hoped it would look natural enough to fool anything looking for me, and I propped some sticks along the tent. Maybe that was just me being paranoid, but I was sure there was something out there watching me. 

Climbing into my little tent and into the mylar sleeping bag, I zipped up the front flaps and pulled my knees as far as I could to my chest. My ankle throbbed intensely, and I was terrified beyond imagination. I did not think there was any possible way I was going to sleep tonight. I was wrong about that. Between the horror I experienced, the feeling of lurking doom, the physical exertion and lack of food for more than a day, I actually fell asleep very quickly. 

I awoke and it was still dark outside. I stayed hidden in my tent until I saw the light of the morning sun hit the side of this flimsy shelter. I could not hear anything, but I was sure there was something moving around in the darkness outside my tent. I remained as quiet as possible, but in my crippling dread of what was out there stalking me my breaths sounded to me like the roar of a lion. 

There was no snow last night, so at least I did not have to dig myself out this time. I got my things gathered up and packed, then I was back on my way as quickly as I could. The skin-chilling sensation of having an unseen observer lurking about remained with me. 

Glancing all around me for anything out of the normal as I continued to limp my way back home, I scanned the area for any signs of movement. Not knowing what I was looking for, I could not shake the feeling something was watching me. There was something stalking me; I just knew it. There was some sinister creature, some malevolent force that wanted to turn me into one of those frozen statues. I sensed its horrible presence like I sensed the cold air. 

I tried to remain near the tree line when I could. I did not care for being out in the wide open. Whether the trees provided me with any coverage, with any protection, I did not know. I did know being in a clearing provided me with no coverage at all as well as making it difficult for me to utilize my makeshift crutch in the deeper snow. This was best to try to keep myself as hidden as possible. If I pushed myself hard, I could be back home by the end of the day. 

I momentarily felt better about my situation when I saw a small herd of deer grazing among the trees in a small patch of forest. If something was skulking around, the deer would certainly be spooked. That feeling quickly passed once I realized the deer were not moving. They were standing as still as, well as still as statues. I could not see if they were in the same condition as the man I encountered yesterday, and there was no way in hell I was going to get any closer than I already was in an attempt to find out. 

I could not fathom what in this world could possibly do something like this. There could not be any sort of natural creature that could kill in such a manner. If it was not something natural, then it had to be something supernatural. If it truly was something supernatural, I did not think I had any chance of survival. 

I knew I was not too incredibly far from my house, and I pushed myself even harder to get back to its safety and comfort. Feeling no sense of security near the trees anymore, I veered out into an open clearing. At least in the open I might be able to see whatever left that man and those deer nothing but freeze-dried mummies before it got to me. If those deer in the trees were not able to sense this thing though, I probably did not have much hope. Those deer looked like they were still grazing when they died. 

It was getting hard to stick to rockier ground. The snow here was deeper and spread more evenly than the ground I traveled thus far. This made walking with a crutch and injured ankle even more difficult than before. I had to make it over this next hill, then I was quite sure I had a gentle downward slope the rest of the way to my house. If I had to, I could slide on my mylar sleeping bag as I did before. 

Getting up this hill was going to be the most difficult part of my journey. It was much steeper than any incline I encountered so far, and it was deeply packed with snow. As I forced my way through the snow, I found it was as deep as my waist. There was no way I was going to be able to push my way through that much snow. Using my crutch, I began to pack the icy flakes down in order to create a makeshift trail for me to use. 

It seemed to be working. My progress was very slow, but I was making it up the hill. Suddenly I cried out in pain as I lost my balance. My good foot slipped and instinctively I tried to stabilize myself with my injured foot. When I did, both of my legs buckled underneath me, and I was sent rolling back down the hill. I did not think about what I was doing. I threw my arms out in an attempt to halt my fall, which turned out to be a critical mistake. 

By the time I reached the bottom of the hill and the initial onset of confusion subsided, my right shoulder was dislocated, and I was positive I broke one of the bones in my right forearm. The pain was so incredibly intense, I thought for a moment I was going to pass out. What was supposed to be a short outing on my snowmobile turned out to be the worst experience of my life. 

I was laying there in the snow with half of my body disabled. When I fell, my pack came loose and landed approximately thirty feet away from me. I was on the last leg of my journey home, no pun intended, and I was not going to give up on living quite yet. I forgot about my pack. I was almost there, so I did not really need it anymore. Instead, I began crawling on my left side back to the trail I created for myself. 

Tears involuntarily rolled down my cheeks as I thought about the direness of my situation. The salty drops froze almost immediately to my wind burned face. I was so close. I was almost home, and then I was sure I would be safe. I still needed medical attention, but I would still be safe. 

Inch by inch I worked my way back up the hill using the trail I already made. There was no way I was going to give up on living; I enjoyed life way too much to simply throw in the towel. I did the only thing I could and kept driving, kept pushing myself to make it over the ridge. The agony from my injuries was beyond description. I had a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder and a sprained ankle, all of which were on the right side of my body. 

I almost made it back to the point on the hill where I fell and crippled my arm, and I then saw it. God help me, I saw it. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared up at the nameless horror. Not even in the darkest of legends had I ever heard of such a thing as this described. All this time I felt like I was being stalked, being watched, but I never saw anything. Now I understood why. 

The creature, I guess it could be called a creature, had an oblong body about six feet in length and three feet wide. Dozens of one-foot-long multi-jointed legs ending in needle sharp points ran the full length of its body. The monster was almost completely transparent, and it appeared to be crystalline in nature. A pattern of hexagonal scales or facets, I could not say for certain which one, covered its insect-like body.  

Although it was flying, it had no wings that I could see. It appeared to hover in place, seeming to disappear from one place and reappear only feet away every few seconds. I screamed as I desperately tried to pull myself the rest of the way up this snow-covered hill. I pleaded to God for help, but none came. The thing seemed almost amused with my anguished struggle to get up this snow-packed hill, as it darted back and forth for several minutes while I tried to pull my broken body through the three-feet deep snow. 

Suddenly it began to make a noise. It began with a low hum, but it quickly became a deafening strum that caused the surface snow to dance. It almost sounded like thousands of crystal chandeliers crashing to a cement floor simultaneously. Bawling as I tried in vain to climb the hill with half of my body broken, I rolled over onto my back to look at the thing. 

I really believed the horror was enjoying itself playing with me like a cat with a mouse. I did not even know if the unnatural thing understood the concept of pain as I did. What its true intentions were was anyone’s guess, but I believed with everything in me that it was playing with me. It was taunting me, mocking my agony and having fun in the process. 

I begged and pleaded for it to please go away and leave me alone, but I do not think it understood me. As far as I knew, it had no sense of hearing. This thing, this horrific crystalline beast was so alien, I doubt very seriously it had the same five senses I had. I cried and hoped it would understand my fear and leave me alone. Whether or not it reacted to the terror it was putting me through, I could not say. 

The icy demon curled its legs to its side, sank down to hover only a few feet above me, and opened an aperture in its body. I could see the dark purple flesh leading to the monster’s gullet. It was not truly transparent because I was able to see its disgusting insides. Instead, it somehow seemed to move light around itself to keep itself hidden. 

I felt a strange tingling for a fraction of a second, then a burning pain coursed through my entire body. This unnatural monster began drawing the warm fluids out of my body, which tore through my clothing as it was extracted from my flesh. My individual cells ruptured as the unholy terror pulled my bodily fluids out of me like a mist into what might be called a mouth. I thought I was in pain before with my broken and bruised limbs, but that was very minor to the agony I now suffered. It only lasted for a minute, but it might as well be eternity. 

My once living pink skin was now papery and gray. My whole form was now the same as that of the ice mummy I encountered nestled in the crevasse yesterday. My body was deceased and rigid, yet inside it somehow my mind remained alive. I could still see and hear, although I could no longer move my eyes. It did not even have the decency to kill me. The unholy thing fed off the fluid in my body but left me frozen like this forever.  

Any question regarding its intent or motivation was made clear. This horrific thing was going to leave me stuck in my own dead body. I did not think there could be anything more torturous than spending eternity trapped in your own petrified corpse. The flying monster was truly a wicked and evil thing from another time or another place. 

The virtually invisible demon picked my mummified corpse up and carried me far into the wilderness. I could see the snow covered, rocky landscape passing underneath me as well as the wind roaring through my ears. I even felt the creature’s legs gripping onto my body as it carried me away. 

If someone were to come looking for me, they would not go far if they found my body where I was close to my home, so the thing moved me to make me harder to find. Like it did with the ice mummy I found yesterday, the malicious creature set me down in a clearing in the center of a cluster of large rocks where I would spend all the time until the world ends as another statue. 

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