The Watchtower

April 13, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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____________________ by Doctor Slim
Part 1

People always have pondered what another intelligent being would be like. They’ve always theorized that these beings would be light years away and that us, humans, would be dead a very long time before we ever made contact with them. Other people say that they have already met them after being abducted and experimented on. Then some will say that we are the only intelligent being there are or ever will be. Well, I can say say one thing for sure and that’s no one was right. We were all so very wrong…

Back when I was a teenager, I’ll admit I was a smoker and an avid drug user. I’d done most drugs that were deemed “safe” from my friends such as LSD, MDMA, DMT, many prescription drugs, and I even had a phase where I did some over-the-counter drugs. As a teen, I like to think I played it smart by only doing those every so often and stick with my main fix. Weed.

I used weed almost as a social tool to some extent. What I mean by that is it got me to meet people who all were similar to me in at least the one aspect; we just wanted to get high. Around the end of my Sophomore year I met this kid named Ralph at a party and we quickly found out that we had a lot in common so we became friends.

When summer came, I’d hang out at his house, which was out in the middle of a forest, at least 4 or 5 times a week. While I was at his house, we’d barely ever go inside because his parents never liked anyone in there. Instead, we’d go to his barn which was filled with cats that were most likely illegally being held. You’re probably thinking why the fuck someone would hold cats in a barn. His mom actually bread some very expensive cats ranging from around $500-$3,000. She never had a permit for it either, and most of them were very maltreated by barely being fed or given water. Anyways we would hang out in that barn for hours every time I came over and all we would really do is smoke weed and cigarettes. We grew bored of that after a couple weeks since there wasn’t much to do so he started to show me some cool spots throughout his neighborhood.

Some of the places were just a great view like this place we called the ledge which was on a small mountain. From the ledge, we could see the entire forest stretch out so far that we couldn’t even come close to seeing the end of it. Then there were spots that were just cool like the cliffs which is pretty self explanatory from its name. My favorite place was what we called the old house.

The old house was an abandon house down a long driveway with many “No Trespassing” signs, but we had thought whatever the owner didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. The house was a three story building that looked as if no one had lived there for probably around 50+ years. As you could imagine, the house was obviously decently decayed, and very neglected by wildlife and everyone that had been there. All the windows were busted out, parts of trees grew inside the house, the floor was broken in, parts of walls were missing showing the inside of the wall which most likely was filled with asbestos. The walls that weren’t broken in had graffiti covering almost every inch possible. The house’s obvious property was pretty big probably being a couple acres. Decently thick brush surrounded the yard and a side building that was presumably an out house. The house and it’s property also had an eerie feel to it, but what abandon house doesn’t?

Most of the time we would visit there during the day, but I personally thought the best time to go was at night. The rush I would get from this place past dark was unreal. Only people who have been in an abandon house in the middle of the forest over night would know what I mean. I had only done this a few times as I would go alone because Ralph would refuse to go there during the night.

One night, we were at the barn around 20:00 and I was trying really hard to convince him to come with me to the old house. Like always, he constantly said no. This ended up making me mad so I demanded him to tell why he wouldn’t come with me. He sighed and said “Well, this going to seem a little ridiculous, but I saw… something… in the forest by there.”

“Well what the hell does that have to do with anything?” I replied.

“I’m just worried that it would come to the house during the night.”

“That what would?”

He sighed and began to tell me what he saw.

Back when he was 9 or 10, him and his friend Carl wanted to find a spot where they could go to get away from both of their families. After a few weeks of exploring through the woods, they came across the old house, but in a slightly different state. Apparently, there were around 9 or 10 paths all around the house where the brush grew now.

Him and Carl would try to always explore one path every time they would go to the house until they ran out. This would allow them to have something new to do every time they visited. Some paths took a couple days as they would walk pretty slow at first absorbing the scenery of the forest and its inhabitants. When they would turn back, they would leave a marking in the ground or put a pile of sticks together and leave it at the furthest point they reached. The next time they would visit the old house they would quickly walk past everything they have already seen until they go to their “checkpoint”.

They never found anything interesting enough on these paths to actually keep, but a few weird things began happening. Oddly enough, it was only on the final three paths. Mostly the mysterious happenings effected the checkpoints.

The checkpoint at the first of the three was just a stack of sticks tied together by some long pieces of grass. Ralph and him came back the next day excited as they always were when they explored one of the paths. Eventually the checkpoint came to view, but it wasn’t how they left. The sticks were ripped in to pieces in a pile. This didn’t bother either of them though since they thought it was maybe a fox or another animal in the woods. Ralph said looking back now, it wasn’t possible for any animal to make those sticks look like that.

The second of the three checkpoints was four sticks jabbed into the ground in a square pattern. Carl was going to be out of the town for the next couple days so it was there for a few days. The day he came back, they both were happily went down the path. When they finally arrived to the checkpoint, there were 3 more squares of sticks in the ground next time the first one making a giants square of sticks. This made both of them a little uneasy, but they kept going down the path a little more hesitant. Nothing else out of the ordinary happened on the path.

They ended up exploring the last path all the way on the same day. Half of it was explored during the day in which they made a star in the ground with a stick. Both of them were very eager to finish this one therefore they made a plan. At exactly midnight, they would both sneak out of their houses and meet up at the old house. Carl was suppose to bring two flashlights while Ralph was going to bring two of his father’s pocket knives. Everything went exactly as planned. They met up and started going down the path.

Ralph and Carl quickly realized that the paths at night weren’t as appealing to the eye. In fact, most of it was straight up terrifying. Neither of them would end up saying anything about it because they both wanted to to be brave. When they finally reached the checkpoint, they shone their flashlights on it and what they saw would leave them breathless. Right next to the original star was another star that sloppily drawn. Ralph told that it resembled what you would think a two year old would draw for a star. The worst part was it was at least an inch deep and a half an inch in diameter.

At first, Carl wanted to turn around and go home, but Ralph convinced him not to. Ralph said that someone probably saw them leave the property of the old house after the sixth trail. That person then began to mess with their checkpoints in order to scare them off so they would stay off the property. Carl thought about Ralph’s theory and came to the conclusion he was probably right so they continued down to finish the path. Apparently this path was very long compared to the rest. The further and further they went down the path, the weirder things got. On some of the trees there were deep gashes almost splitting some of the trees in half and some of them were even knocked over. These sites became more and more common the deeper they went.

Then they reached a clearing in the shape of circle probably being about 100 yards across. There was no grass and no trees except one. It was in the middle of the glade and had a tower built into it. Eventually, they would name it the watch tower due to the structure of the building. The watch tower was very crudely built out of wood and being around 4 stories tall. On the bottom floor, there was a doorway which looked abnormally big. The second had a balcony above the door with no railing and it’s supports sticking in the ground. Next was the third floor which was pretty plain only having what appeared to be a window. Finally was the fourth floor. It was almost like a roof, but not quite. Presumably, there was either a ladder or stairs leading up there. It had almost a railing around the perimeter.

They didn’t notice the fourth floor at first because when they looked at it from an upward angle, it would appear as a flat roof. But that’s when they noticed it. There was a very tall humanoid creature standing on the top. This thing was looking in the opposite direction of Ralph and Carl and most of it features were impossible to see in the darkness. Both of them stood absolutely still staring at the creature for what felt like hours. Neither of them noticed how quiet the forest was until this point. In fact, it was so quiet that they both heard the ringing noise your brain makes up when there is no noise to hear.

After a few minutes, it began to move about the top of the watch tower. The creature reached it’s hand up into the air making a motion that looked as if it was stretching. What they saw would scar them forever. This thing had claws for fingers, but probably not the way you’re thinking of. The sharp part of the claws were where the back of your finger would be leaving the other side dull. They were also opposable and probably around 10 inches long. Ralph managed to hold back his scream, but Carl wasn’t so lucky.

The second Ralph heard a noise come from Carl’s mouth, he dived on him tackling him to the ground covering his mouth as they fell. Ralph looked Carl straight in the eyes and brought one finger up to his lips letting him know to not make a noise. When they finally looked back over at the creature he was looking directly at them. Both of their hearts stopped and they held their breath trying not to move a muscle. Fortunately for them, the darkness was the perfect camouflage leaving them invisible to the creature. It began looking around them frantically almost as if it was scanning the area to find where the noise had come from. That’s when they noticed a silhouette of the same thing standing in the third story window looking in their direction also.

Suddenly, the creature jumped from the roof making a loud bang and a cloud of dust rising from the ground. Ralph and Carl both looked at each other and knew exactly what they had to do, run. They both ran as fast as they ever have the way they came from hoping the creature didn’t see or hear them. After about 10 minutes, they finally came to a stop. Ralph almost collapsed, but thankfully Carl managed to catch him and softly lower him to the ground.

Both of them sat there in utter silence listening while trying to catch their breath. Neither of them heard a sound except for forest wildlife which had seem to return to the forest. After a few minutes, both of them just walked home not saying a word to each other.

I was speechless. Like who really would know what to say after hearing all that? Honestly, I thought it was all bullshit at first and responded with a really sarcastic comment about it being a nice story. But the look in his eyes after I said that convinced me other wise.

I asked him what happened to Carl and unfortunately, he moved across the country soon afterwards. Apparently they managed to stay friends for a couple years, but as time went on they lost contact.

We went to sleep after that, but I don’t really think either of us got much sleep. Neither of us talked to each other for a couple days, but then it went back to how it used to be. After a couple weeks I brought up the idea of going to the watchtower just so we can clear things up. Initially, he said no, but with a bit of convincing I got him up to a maybe. I said we would do it smart this time and bring a gun or two and maybe some knives. This made him feel better and agreed, but we have to bring a few more people. We both called some friends and planned it for the next weekend.
Sleep didn’t come easy over the next week. I had nightmares about the watch tower and those creatures. Most of the dreams have either been forgotten or my brain subconsciously blocked them. Though that was not the case for one of the horrid dreams.

I was one of them. I stood at the top of the watchtower looking out at the surrounding forest, hungry looking for anything that I could eat. Something moved in the woods and I quickly looked where it came from. Darkness plagued the forest making it very hard for my non human eyes to see. Maybe it moved I thought and began looking around the general area I heard it from. Nothing. I descended the ladder that was behind me.

I saw the silhouette of one of them standing staring out the window. This started to make me uneasy in my dream as I began to realize that what I was couldn’t be right. I kept going down the ladder and went past the second floor and then I reached the first floor. The weird part was, the ladder kept going down underground. Hesitantly I went down it into the complete darkness. I kept going down and down until I noticed a light coming from below. The light got closer and closer until it was right below me. As I was about to see what it was, I woke up in a cold sweat. Not feeling good, I walked to the bathroom and threw up.

A week had finally passed and we all met up at Ralphs house. I brought two of my friends, one was John who was a bodybuilder, and Austin who was just a very good friend of mine. Ralph only managed to get one of his friends to come. His name was Mark and he was a wrestler.

We each brought something that could possibly help us on the adventure into the unknown. John brought a backpack filled with water and food just incase we managed to get lost or if one of us was hungry/thirsty. Austin managed to take his dad’s .44 magnum with enough bullets to go through 5 magazines (not sure what they are really called on a magnum) Mark found an old machete in his garage a few months ago and with a little convincing, his parents agreed to let him have it, so of course he brought that. Ralph took his dad’s shotgun and had around 40 bullets for it minus what was already loaded into it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to bring anything that could be of much use, but I brought a few pocket knives and for myself, a butterfly knife.

We left for the old house at about 8 in the morning. The only reason we left so early was we’d rather face these things during the day. As we got there we all immediately figured out our one flaw with this plan, the path didn’t exist anymore.

Fortunately, Mark had the machete so he began to cut his way through the brush. We were all worried the whole path would be covered in this brush, but it was only for about the first hundred or hundred and fifty feet. The strange part was that after it ended, there was none for the rest of the path. All there was grass nothing more, nothing less.

We had been walking for an hour when Austin started complaining. “This is pointless guys; we’re never gonna find anything!” he said rudely.

“Yes we will,” said Ralph.

“You sure this the right path, Ralph?” I asked, “I mean we haven’t really seen anything out of the ordinary yet.”

“I think it is.”

“You think!?” said John.

“Almost positive. The only way it wouldn’t be is if there was another path I didn’t see before”

While rolling his eyes, John said, “Well I think it’s about time we eat something.”

“I agree, I’m starving!” Replied Mark.

So we sat there and ate. While we were eating, I sat there absorbing the scenery. It was about noon so the sun was high up in the sky lighting up everything that wasn’t directly below the trees which wasn’t much. The light or should I say the lack of light allowed me to notice something odd.

On the side of a tree, a part was slightly bulging out. I walked closer towards it when it hit me:

“What the hell are you doing?” Asked Mark.

“Just come here guys.” I said back with a grim look on my face.

As they walked next to me, they noticed it too. On the tree was one of the claw marks Ralph had told me about. There were 4 total claws that caused it. Each mark was about an inch and a half or two inches deep while being about an inch across.

There was a long silence between all of us for a couple minutes as we all took in what we saw.

Austin finally broke the silence by saying, “Well I guess this is the right path.”

“Told ya,” said Ralph.

“I’m worried now,” John said.

“Don’t be. If we come across one of these fuckers I’ll blow it’s head.”

“But what if our guns and knives aren’t enough?”

“Well I highly doubt that, but I guess we would just run for our life.” replied Mark.

We continued down the path, but this time we had our weapons ready for anything. There was more and more scratch marks on the trees.

We all definitely felt the tension rising the further we walked through the path as all of us began to talk less. Occasionally I’d look over at my friends just to make sure they were okay and all of them minus Ralph had a look fear in their eyes. The look Ralph had was that of regret and terror.

After what felt like hours of walking, we noticed an opening far ahead. Although blurry, we could make out the watchtower.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ralph said with a hushed voice.

“What?” I asked him nervously.

“We gotta get out here NOW!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” asked Austin.

“The watchtower has at least doubled in size since I was last here.”

I started to step back towards Ralph when I heard a loud snap and suddenly I was stuck in a net. It began swinging violently and I hit my head on a tree and got knocked out.


Slowly I started to become conscious. I opened my eyes and was blinded by light so I quickly closed them tightly shut. The light made me notice my horrific head ache. At this point I was still very disorientated so I wasn’t really worried. All the memories of what just happened began flooding back into my head. This made me not want to open my eyes. I was hoping maybe somehow my friends got me out of the trap and were just resting for a second so they lied me down, but the noises I began hearing made me realize that was not what happened at all.

It sounded almost like a voice but, it was very deep and malicious. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human and there was definitely at least three of them. They were having a conversation about who knows what. I could only assume it was about me which caused me to worry for my life and my friends life. At first I thought I should just keep my eyes closed and not move, but why stop the inevitable?

Once I opened my eyes, I noticed that the light shining on my face was coming from a very strange light. The light source was surrounded by some type of glass in the shape of a cube with little metal rods sticking out from each corner emitting a what I presumed was electricity into a glowing orb in the middle. Several of these hung from the unusually high ceiling throughout the room. About halfway across the room, a row of bars and a door came all the way across the room blocking me off from the other side of the room.

On my side, there wasn’t really much at all. In the corner of the room laid a blanket and what I assumed was suppose to be some sort of pillow made purely from cloth or something. The corner across from that one had a hole about a foot in diameter. It had to have been pretty deep too because you couldn’t see the bottom even with the light placed directly above it. At the center of my side was a huge pillar with some crazy type of writing wrapping around it from top to bottom.

The other side was very… weird. One of the corners was completely blocked off like it was an abnormally large cubicle. The other side had a couple of very big containers almost like an 8 foot filing cabinet except they only had a single drawer taking up where all the drawers would be. Along the back wall was a door except, it didn’t have a door knob. On the floor directly in front of the door was markings of what I assumed was another creatures footprints. Tubes hung from the ceiling in a very strange pattern.

I kept hearing the voices I had been hearing earlier from the general direction the cubicle was at. Slowly the voices were growing in volume, almost like there was some type of tension in that cubicle. The louder the voices grew, the more malign they sounded. Eventually it was almost like the creatures were having a full out argument; they were what seemed to be yelling, occasionally stomping on the ground.

The stomping was nerve wrecking at the least. Every time they’d stomp it would shake the entire room meaning the creature itself had to have been large. Very large.

They kept arguing, getting louder and louder for what felt like hours until one of them finally left the cubicle. I wanted to vomit the second we met eyes.

The creature was horrific; it was about 8 feet tall, very muscular and looked like a humanoid. This things skin looked thick, almost like leather minus the brown color. Instead it was a sort of a darker pink, but not quite red. One of the creatures leg would be as thick as a car tire and about four to four and a half feet long. The feet looked almost human, but very large and instead of toes, it had small versions of the claws described in Ralph’s story. It’s torso was abnormally small compared to the rest of it body, but it still remained one of the most muscular parts of its body. His arms were long, hanging down to about its knees, but the worse part was the dreaded claws it had instead of fingers. They were just like Ralph described except I could clearly see that they were a whitish yellow, almost like teeth meaning they were most likely bone instead of whatever nails are made from.

The face was the thing that stood out the most. Honestly, it still gives me nightmares today.. Anyways, it’s head was very proportionate to the rest of its body, just like a humans. hung out of the edge of its mouth being significantly longer than the rest of its fangs which might I add it had several rows of fangs. The tongue was like a humans except completely flat. There wasn’t a nose, instead holes for nostrils much like a snake. No ears existed either; just holes like the nose except it had some type of filter covering the ear most likely blocking things from crawling in there. The hair was possibly the strangest part, it looked almost like rope hanging from its head except you could tell each “rope” was a single piece of hair. Before I noticed any of those features though, I noticed it’s dreaded eyes.

Where the white is in our eyes was black in this things eyes. The black took up a majority of its eyes with a white iris that took up a space as thin as pencil lead. Red pupils were in the center of the eye. Anyways I ended up calling these things wolverines because of their claws.

After I threw up, I looked up at the wolverine as he looked back at me. A smile grew across his face which sent a shiver down my spine. It stopped in its path and we just stared at each other for probably about five minutes when he turned around. The wolverine quickly ran back into the cubicle. I heard the voices again until three wolverines walked from behind the cubicle.

All of them stared at me with the same disturbing smile. Eventually one said something while staring at me. At first, I wasn’t too sure who it was talking to, but it became obvious he was talking to me as he began saying the same phrase three or four times. Not sure what to do, I replied with the simple phrase of I don’t understand what your saying.

It quickly frowned and began walking towards the door. The wolverine stood where the foot prints were when they slightly moved down. The door flew open and then all three wolverines walked out.

For the next few hours, I was in there alone. At first I quickly began looking around for an exit but, came to no avail. I gave up and just began thinking about Ralph, Austin, John, and Mark. What happened to them? Were they okay? Did all of them get stuck in the trap? Who got away? Are they even still alive?

All these thoughts started becoming too much and I honestly started to cry. Hard. I probably cried for about thirty minutes when I started thinking again. At the time I thought what’s the point in crying? I mean it’s not gonna get me anywhere and all it’s gonna do is dehydrate me. And what if they don’t give me water? It will only make the inevitable come so much quicker then I wanted.

After a few hours had passed, a couple wolverines came back except it brought a table with straps where my feet and hands would be. They opened the door in the middle of the room as I groaned waiting for my fate. It picked me up with what felt like actual care, almost like a mom picking up its baby. This made me very confused at first until I figured out they were treating me like a piece of evidence; with care to try and not alter me.

I was lied down on the table and was strapped in. One of them opened the door while the other pushed me. We went through a very weird hallway that looked like something like a hallway in an asylum and ended up in a room I could only call an operating room.

For a couple minutes, the two wolverines talked. After they finished, they began making marks all over my body where I presumed they were going to cut open. The wolverine grabbed a knife and made an insertion in my forehead and my right arm. I guess the other wolverine called him as he put the knife down next to my right hand. This was my chance, my chance to escape, to get away. I quickly began looking around for an exit. At first, I couldn’t find anyway out as I knew the door wouldn’t work for me but, thats when I noticed another hole in the corner of the room except it was slightly bigger than the one in my cell.

I grabbed the knife and quickly began cutting the restraint on my right hand. While I was cutting it I kept looking up to make sure they weren’t paying attention and fortunately they weren’t. The first restraint took the longest to cut, but the rest only took a second. I was free, well from the restraints at least. As quietly as I could, I got up and was crawling towards the hole when I heard it scream.

For a second, I thought I went deaf. How incredibly loud that scream was. This disorientated me to the point of me not being able to move. I quickly managed to compose myself together while one was beginning to run towards me. I couldn’t make a run for the hole because before I’d reach it, the wolverine would get me. At this point I still had the knife so I did the only thing I could think of. I threw it straight at the wolverine hitting it in the head. The knife itself was very sharp, but due to the creatures thick skin it only went in about an eighth of an inch. Fortunately, this was enough to stun the beast for a split second. I quickly turned around, got to the hole and jumped down.

I could barely fit in the hole so as I fell I constantly hit the walls. I only fell about 50 feet or so until I hit water or some type of liquid. For some reason, it had a very strong current though so it dragged me right along with it. The water was only a few feet deep which most likely saved me from drowning. After about 15 minutes or so I saw light from the way I was going.

Happiness overwhelmed me the closer and closer I got. Finally I got out of the cave or whatever I was in and was in sunlight. I quickly got out of the water on the side of the river and lied down absorbing all the sunlight I could. I actually ended up falling in a deep sleep right there on the shore.

I was in my bed, nice and warm. Feeling pretty content, I got up and went to shower. Hot water poured all over my body, cleansing every pore in my body. The kitchen was right above the bathroom so I could always smell what was being made. My mom this morning was making eggs and bacon so you know what my bathroom smelt like. I got out of the shower, dried myself off, got dressed, and went up stairs for an amazing breakfast.

That morning we had a family breakfast, something we never usually do. My dad told elaborate stories about his childhood memories which would bring joy and light to each person in my family. My mom would talk about her job and getting a raise which would mean things were going to change around here, for the better. My sister talked about how she met this amazing guy and how she thought he might actually be “the one”. I rolled my eyes at this and laughed as I washed my plate clean.

All of the sudden, I heard glass breaking coming from the basement. My dad said as quietly and frantically as he could, “Go upstairs, lock yourselves in your room and don’t make a noise.” All of us did exactly as he said except I went a little further and hid inside my closet. I sat there for what like hours and listened as closely as I could to try and here what was happening downstairs. All I could hear was banging which filled me with fear.

Something was starting to come up stairs and it sounded bigger than my dad. I held my breath and got in the fetal position as it started to walk towards my room. Whatever it was, it sounded like it had taken my door clean off the hinges. It walked towards my closet and opened the door. Looking right at me was a wolverine with a huge smile on its face. The monster picked me up and threw me towards the wall. Thats when I woke up.

When you first wake up, you’re usually really dazed and disoriented especially after a dream. Well that’s what I was like as I was flying through the air. I didn’t really understand what was going on until I hit the tree. The second I hit the tree was the second collapsed. I spit up a shit ton of blood and looked up. Staring straight at me was a wolverine about 30 feet away with the same grin on his face as the one in the dream.

At this point my adrenaline began rushing, but it wasn’t too much help as I couldn’t even really stand. The creature slowly began walking towards me making the noise that I could only describe as laughter. I began looking around frantically trying to find someway to get out of there when I noticed the river about 5 feet away from me. I quickly rolled in to it as the current took me with it.

As I began going down the river I saw the creature quickly jump into it trying to chase after me. I tried to swim with the current to make me a little bit faster, but it never helped much. The further and further down the river I went the closer the beast got to me. At one point, it swung its claw towards me but missed. While it’s claw was right by my leg, I quickly used all the strength in my body to force myself further away. Let’s just say it didn’t really work. Somehow, he countered it grabbing my ankle and flinging me into the air further down the river which I noticed turned into a lake.

I crashed down in shallow water on the opposite side of where the river came out at. I knew this was the end of me, both my legs had to be broken at this point and same with my arms. The creature got dumped out into the lake, but something surprising happened.

The creature flailed its arms in every direction, filling the air with that dreaded scream. I was very confused about what was happening at first, but then it hit me like a ton of bricks. It can’t swim! It was drowning in the deep part of the water! I was filled with relief until I lost consciousness most likely due to blood loss.


I slowly opened my eyes and realized I was in a hospital bed. Looking down at my body, I noticed I was almost completely covered in bandages while both my legs and one of my arms were in casts. My mom was sleeping on a chair they had placed next to my bed. I smiled and said her name probably about five times until she woke up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom cry so hard or heard her scream so loud.

Police questioned me over the next few days about what had happened. I didn’t really know what to say so I made up a story about how me and a friend went exploring down the river when I fell in, hit my head, and passed out in the river. Next they asked which friend and I said Carl. Apparently, Carl had been missing for a couple days now, way before I “passed out” in the river. I became a main suspect in his disappearance, but there was a lack of evidence to actually convict me.

Recovery would take me years to become a fully operable human being again. In fact, they actually had to replace a few bones in my legs to get them to work like normal.

One thing to this day still makes me very curious. What happened to Austin, Mark and John? Did they go crazy? Maybe they just kept quiet about it? Or did they even get captured too? Honestly, who knows, but I can only assume they were probably captured too.

Whenever you’re in a forest and see a strange structure that doesn’t look quite so normal, PLEASE get out of there. The wolverines are probably there and they have no mercy. They are way more powerful than us humans. If for some reason you do come across one of them though, find some near by deep water and jump right in. Don’t worry, you can swim and they can’t. Well that is unless they’ve learned how to swim since then.

Credit To – Doctor Slim

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The Demon Butcher of Palos Park

April 9, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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In my home town we have a legend.

In the 1890s, a man called Butcher (this was back when people got their name from their trades) had a butcher shop that was doing well. From what I can tell, he was a large man but cowardly at heart. He was well respected and well liked. He always did good business. But he wasn’t a person you’d look twice at.
Then the depression hit. Livestock was harder to come by and many other shops were going out of business. Butcher had good connections and he was getting by. But he had to raise prices, much to the annoyance of his customers. He was losing business.

One day a shipment of beef came in. Butcher told his apprentice to carry the load to the basement meat locker. The boy followed his orders, but like most kids, he tried to rush and took too much down at once. The boy tripped on the stairs and broke his neck at the bottom. He died, I assume, instantly.
Butcher heard the noise and soon found the body. The law was pretty scary in these times. Death sentences were still a viable option and Butcher thought this looked like murder. He could die because of this accident. They might kill him. He panicked and hid the body in his meat freezer.

When the boy’s parents came, he lied. When the boy’s father called the police and he got investigated, Butcher lied harder.
The police let him go for the time being but Butcher was terrified. Hiding the body made what could have been an accident look like real murder. He could lose everything. He could die. He had to get rid of the body.
That’s when he had an idea… he was a butcher. If he could cut the boy up and sell him as meat, who would be the wiser? No one, that’s who. No one. So in the dead of night he took his knife to the body and wrapped it like any other cut of meat. The next day he sold it with a nervous smile and no one questioned it.

In fact people seemed to like it. I suppose compared to the livestock of the time, human meat was clean and healthy. People liked it so much that they started asking for more. Now Butcher was a nervous man. Though he was nearly out of hot water he couldn’t help but think that people would wonder why his prime meat wasn’t as good as this one batch. If they kept asking… if they kept digging, they would make the connection. They would find out his crime. It was definitely a crime now, he couldn’t deny that. But, no, Butcher wouldn’t get caught. He would just have to find more meat.

He started with hobos. He would offer them food and lure them to his shop, then he’d kill them. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that he had gone completely insane. As far as Butcher was concerned, not one was going to miss the vagabonds so it wasn’t much of a crime. To make matters worse real beef was getting even harder to come by. He needed these people or he would go out of business. It was necessary.

But Butcher’s luck seemed against him. The rail-riders realized that Palos Park wasn’t a safe place to get off and they stopped coming. Butcher was again out of meat.

When the first child disappeared people were worried but no one thought there could be a killer among them. When more disappeared, someone remembered who went missing first; Butcher’s apprentice. And wasn’t it odd how he still had meat when everyone else was out of business? And wasn’t it odd the way homeless men used to wonder into his store and never come out? And wasn’t it strange the way he would sometimes stare at the children who entered his store?
Nothing makes an angry mob form faster than a child killer. This man had taken people, taken children, and dissected them like cattle. He had turned the town into cannibals. Oh, god, had parents unknowingly eaten their own children? How many people had died for this man’s business? How many people had they eaten?
The proof was there on the hooks when they broke into his shop. A child skinned and hanging. No one could tell who it was but they could only assume that it was the child who went missing the most recently. This man didn’t leave survivors. This man didn’t hesitate to kill them.

Butcher was afraid. Perhaps more afraid then he had ever been. They were gathering outside his house now with knifes and axes and fire. Butcher stayed away from the windows even as they were broken by bricks and pavement stones. Butcher stayed near the wall and closed his eyes. There was a pounding on the front door and then there was a sickening crack as it broke.

The people pulled him out onto the yard. Butcher screamed. Everyone came at him at once. The knives bit his skin, the hammers broke his bones and the police stood back and watched as the citizens punished him. Everything happened quickly but for Butcher it must have been a life time. Finally they ended it, ended him, with a swift axe to the neck, decapitating him before he could close his eyes for the last time

The Butcher had been butchered.

This is a true story. I know, Palos Park had its own little Sweeny Todd, what a rip off! But you can easily verify my story with a web search. I’ll admit that as a longtime resident of this town, I may have embellished the story a bit, but all the facts are there. Heck I even threw in that ‘think about it from the killer’s perspective’, Johnny likes so much. Okay, I’ll admit I’m the one who’s a bit weird about psychology.

But I guess I should explain…

I’m writing this because of Johnny. I’m not sure I really want to believe that these things are connected but there is such a thing as too many coincidences. I tend to be pretty skeptical, but I know when something isn’t right. I know when I need to speak out.

Johnny is missing and the Butcher is responsible.
There’s this game we play in town, ‘Find the Head’. I suppose the name’s kind of self-explanatory. When they cut off Butcher’s head they buried it on Indian Hill. Legend says that they kept his body separate so he wouldn’t be able to rise from the grave and continue his massacre. The problem being Butcher wanted his head back. Everyone pretty much knows that this is a lame add on to make it seem like the story is still going even though Butcher died two hundred years ago. Something to make kids behave or to scare tourists. But as brave sixteen year olds, we knew better.

On days when the internet signal was particularly bad and we were all bored we would go up to Indian hill and start digging. Most of the time our efforts were useless. We half expected that the skull had already been found and moved elsewhere but then Johnny won the game. He was digging at the bottom of the hill by a half-dead pine tree when he uncovered it.

He called us over immediately. He needed help uncovering it and at first it just looked like a yellow rock. But it was cool to the touch and seemed somewhat softer and lighter than real rock. Slowly we uncovered the shape of the skull and some of my classmates drew back in fear. No one had ever expected to really find it.

It was smaller than I had expected and darker in color. I was so used to the white bones I saw on TV that this dark yellow dirt encrusted thing seemed even more real to me. The skull was cracked in many places I noticed and stained brown and green in places. The textures was rough and porous from the years that had eaten away at it. I was fascinated by it. So was Johnny.

After ten minutes of arguing our group decided rather than calling the police or reburying it, Johnny should decide what to do with it because he was the one who found it. I remember the strange look he got when he got to hold the skull again. His cheeks were pale but his eyes shone brightly. “I’m keeping it,” he finally answered.

He called me at five o’clock in the morning the next day. I thought it was going to be something dumb but instead I got a panicked whisper. “I haven’t slept. Someone’s been slicing at my windowsill with a cleaver all night. I think it’s the Butcher.”

I laughed tiredly. I could tell from his voice that he wasn’t messing with me. He was definitely terrified but, I mean, another add on to the myth was that you could sometimes hear the Butcher’s cleaver ringing against his grave stone. As a result cleavers are a popular part of Halloween decorations and pranks in our neighborhood. So, I just tried to shrug it off. “It was probably just mike or someone playing a trick.”

Johnny paused for a long moment, “…yeah… maybe.”

He sounded a little relieved like he hadn’t thought of that but to tell the truth I wasn’t all that convinced myself. Someone beating the side of your house with a cleaver wasn’t what I’d call a funny joke. But some people are stupid like that. It was probably just a coincidence that Johnny found the skull the same day or even more likely, one of the kids who was with us was being mean.

It had to be a prank, though. There are no such things as ghosts and even if there were they wouldn’t be able to wield butcher knives.
At least that’s what I tried to tell myself. Then the cleaver incident happened again the next night and again the night after that. Johnny was really panicking now. The police had been called twice but they haven’t found a thing. No footprints, no fingerprints no cigarette buds or food wrappers, just the cleaver marks.

“Why is he just waiting out there?” he told me anxiously the fourth day. “Why doesn’t he just attack? If he attacks I can at least fight back. If he attacks at least it will be over. But all he’s doing is breaking my windowsill and stealing my sleep.”

“I don’t know,” I couldn’t deny that it was weird. I was worried. “Maybe they don’t want to attack while your dad’s home?”

“But why?” Johnny said exasperated. “If he’s afraid of my dad why does he come at all? If dad weren’t such a heavy sleeper he could have been out there with a shotgun by now. Wouldn’t it be easier to just wait until my dad is out and then terrorize me then? Why does he have to do this to me?”

I shrugged again still having no answers but thinking about something else anyway. “You’re staying at my house tonight.”

Johnny continued pacing as though he hadn’t heard me. “And why me? What did I do to deserve this? I mean it can’t be a coincidence that we found a human skull the day he first showed up but come on. My research says the skull is over two-hundred years old. It’s not like we discovered a recent murder. And none of you guys are getting stalked!”

“Johnny,” I tried to interrupt. He was working himself into a frenzy. I needed to calm him down. “Johnny.”

“…I’m too young to die. I only turned sixteen last month and suddenly the Demon Butcher of Palos is coming after me? How is that fair? I don’t even have a license yet. What kind of freak does stuff like this? I mean, I know you get the whole ‘he’s a coward’ thing in your weird psych analysis but how do you know? He lived hundreds of years ago and now he’s back. It isn’t fair that some ghost monster can just rise from the grave and attack me for no reason. All I did was find a skull. It’s not like he needs it anymore.”

“Johnny,” I said loud enough that my friend flinched. “You’re staying here tonight. If some guy is after you, it’s better you’re not in a place he can find you.”

“Really?” he seemed shocked by the offer. I guess he thought I’d be too afraid of attracting trouble. But I was better than that. Friends came first.

“Really,” I confirmed. Some tension eased from his shoulders. “Besides you look like you need some proper sleep.”

I never dreamed that the man, the human copycat, would find my house too. I was taking a risk but I didn’t really believe he would come. Our day went on as normal, I got permission from my dad for Johnny to stay over and we messed around until midnight. My bed was right next to the window and Johnny slept and the floor beside it. The moment he closed his eyes he was out and I thought it was funny. I, too, quickly fell asleep.

Until the knocking started. I flinched awake, my back to the window when I heard the heavy thunk of metal into wood. I blinked my eyes adjusting to the dark and I saw Johnny’s eyes wide and scared in the dark, the dim light from the window reflecting off of them. He saw me move and the look he gave me pleaded with me to stay still.

Thunk! The noise came again, then a sliding scrap as the cleaver was pulled from the wood. Thunk! Thunk! Oh god, the man was feet from me. His face must have been visible in the darkness outside because Johnny’s eyes never moved from that spot. Thunk! I didn’t dare turn or move or he would no doubt break the window and kill me.

Thunk! I could imagine the weapon slicing through my skin as easily as butter. Thunk! That noise punctuating ever cut. Thunk! The man laughed suddenly and my chest clenched. I closed my eyes tightly and waited for him to finally break the window but all that came was another dull thunk. My beating heart calmed some but the tension never left it. He was just playing with us, mocking us until he could finally move in for the kill. Thunk!

I could see why Johnny hadn’t thought this was a joke. It wasn’t funny.
Thunk! And then the noise stopped. I waited for a long time but it didn’t come again. I almost relaxed but for a small headshake Johnny gave from the floor. He was still there. I tried closing my eyes again. Tried to block the man’s presence from my mind.

Then suddenly there was a screeching sound of metal against glass, so sharp that I flinched and gasped in my bed. The man laughed again and he returned to the steady thunk of cleaver to wood again. At this point it was almost soothing compared to the laughter.

Johnny and I did our best to block out the noise. We did our best close our eyes and sleep but whenever we actually got close to sleep the man would change up his routine and scare us anew. It wasn’t until four or so in the morning that he finally stopped for good. We had a few wane hours to shut down from our exhaustion before my mother came and woke us up.

We were both pale and my mom was quick to notice. When my dad saw the window he was pissed but obviously scared. “Why didn’t you call me?” he yelled. He was ex-military and could easily handle any opponent. “We were right upstairs you could have called me for help.”

He didn’t seem to understand how very close this would-be killer was. He hadn’t heard a thing.

The fact that someone could stand at my window for hours, that someone could have easily killed me in the night upset him and mom more deeply then I imagined possible. My parents made Johnny leave and called me into school. The rest of the day was spent moving me into the guest bedroom on the top floor and talking to the police. I love my parents.
I tried my best not to think about it. A killer wasn’t going to break into my house and kill me. He hadn’t stood at my window for six hours threatening me with his probably sharp cleaver. I was just dreaming. I was just being paranoid, except I wasn’t because the physical proof was there and being in denial wasn’t helping.

I… I could handle this. Dad has taught me basic survival and self-defense. Plus I was on the second floor now. He wouldn’t be able to get me so easily up there. I had to stay calm. The secret to surviving is staying calm. No panicking for me.

Another night passed and for me it was in silence. I still had trouble sleeping waiting for the tell-tale thunks, but they never came and eventually I collapsed into exhaustion. Johnny wasn’t as lucky. When I saw him the next day his skin had a sickly grey tint to it and the bags under his eyes were as dark as bruises. He seemed to be at the end of his rope.

“We have to get rid of it,” he said during passing period. “I can’t do this anymore. I need sleep!”

I blinked and it took me a moment to realize what it he was talking about. “You mean the skull? You still have it?”

“You…” he was breathing heavily and closed his eyes as though he resisting hurting me. “I… I haven’t been thinking strait. You understand, Derek, I haven’t slept in days… Even during the day I’m not safe. I keep hearing him. I keep hearing that damn knocking. It won’t leave me alone. You have to help me. You have to help me get rid of it.”

I had taken a few steps back because he kind of looked crazy and people were staring. But he quickly moved back into my personal space a pleading look on his face. “Please…”

I had somehow walked into an ultimatum. Either I could sacrifice our friendship and do the smart think, where I avoided going to a secluded place when we knew there was someone stalking us, or I could have his back and do something obviously stupid. Sometimes loyalty sucked.

“Fine,” I sighed. This was stupid. I knew it was stupid but he was my friend and we were safer as a group. Friends have to be stupid together I guess.
We met up after school, dropped by his house and rode our bikes out towards the edge of town. We made a deep trek into the ‘For Sale’ property and got scratched up by trees and bushes nearly every step. My patience was running thin but whenever I asked why we couldn’t just bury the thing already, Johnny said we weren’t deep enough. “It has to be somewhere no one will ever find.”
“At this point no one will ever find us,” I scowled. This was stupid. This was so dangerously stupid. “Let’s finish this.”

Johnny stopped. All I could see was his back but in his voice I heard a kind of… resolve.

“You’re right,” he said calmly. “Let’s finish this.”

Then he turned around and I saw a glint of silver in his hand. I flinched backwards in shock. A knife! Johnny was holding a knife. “What the fuck!?”
My friends face was drawn. He seemed old and tired but he was looking at me with this hungry look. “Please understand,” he sounded guilty. “I have to do this, Derek. I have to do this. It’s the only way I’m going to get sleep. He won’t leave alone. He wants blood, Derek, and I have to give it to him.”
I backed up into a tree my heart beating fast, my mind reeling for answers. “I don’t understand. Who needs blood? What are you talking about?”

“The Butcher,” he sighed sadly. “The Butcher is hunting me. He’s the one that’s been knocking at my window. He the one making me do this. If…” he choked up and his eyes filled with tears, “if I don’t do this he’ll kill me.”
Suddenly he lashed out with the blade. I managed to duck out of the way purely on instinct. I fell to the ground hard and the steel of the blade lodged itself in the tree where I had been standing moments ago. I stumbled quickly to my feet and tried to put as much distance between us as I could.

“Johnny,” I gasped, trying to reason with him, kind of panicking. “This is crazy. You don’t have to do this. Killing me won’t change anything. Come on, we’re friends.”

He stared at me through tears now, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Derek.”

“Johnny…” and for a moment I was angry. He was acting crazy. He was going to kill me just so he could get some sleep. And I had trusted him. I had come out here at my own risk to help him. And he was going to kill me for that.
He swung the knife again and I blocked it with my arm, pushing his knife hand wide. Pain seared across the limb but I was grateful for the self-defense my dad had given me. Johnny’s eyes widened for a moment, like he hadn’t expected me to fight. It was enough of an opening. I shouldered into his chest, knocking him off balance and we both fell backwards onto the ground, our landing punctuated by a dull thunk

I fell off him and quickly scrambled away, breathless and bleeding and ready to fight. But Johnny didn’t move. I caught my breath and waited, my heart pounding in my ears. But Johnny didn’t move. I stared my mind trying to make sense of the situation as my anger faded away.

I… was he was sleeping? His eyes were wide open. But he had been so tired. That had to be it. He was sleeping. That was all. That was why he wasn’t moving. He… he needed sleep.

Somewhere in the woods I heard the distinct snap of a twig breaking. I saw a distant shadow of a man. He was coming. Shit! My adrenaline addled brain rushed through the possibilities; the Butcher, the police, and Johnny was…
Fear got the better of me and I ran. There isn’t a moment I don’t regret running. But what could I do? He was… he was sleeping and we were in danger. Loyalty had lost and now my friend was gone.

I had gotten lost until well after dark in those thick woods, my fear never leaving me. By the time I got out, the police were looking for us. I must have looked like a mess and was hauled off to the town station by the first cop I came across. A doctor was called in, cleaned me up, and said I was dealing with shock. My parents nearly strangled me with their worried hugs and all I could think was that there was a strange ringing in my ears.

I spent a couple of hours in the police station, wrapped in warm blankets and answering questions. I lied and said that Johnny and I were attack by a large man with a cleaver. I didn’t want to get my friend in trouble over a sleepy mistake. Beyond that I told the truth. We were in the woods on the edge of town. We were trying to get rid of the Butcher’s skull. Johnny fell down. My story seemed to fit with the window stalker thing we had called them about, so they didn’t probe much deeper.

No one blamed me, not even Johnny’s parents. People kept looking at me like I was some kind of victim. It was weird and it put a sick feeling in my gut. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. They all acted like they understood what had happened. They thought I was lucky to have gotten away.

But they were wrong. I was a coward. I had run when my friend was hurt. I had run when he had needed my help. Maybe that was why I kept seeing his face in my head. His green eyes wide and glassy. His eyes… empty… but I couldn’t have killed him. I hadn’t pushed him that hard. He wouldn’t have died from that. I was wasting time thinking about it.

No, it had to be the Butcher. This wasn’t my fault. This man had come knocking at our window with a meat cleaver. This man had driven Johnny crazy. This man was in the woods that night. He was the one who took Johnny. He was the one who killed him… he… they… they never found the body.

I had just… I had… I…

I miss him and I’m sorry that I left him there alone.

Johnny is missing.

The Butcher was responsible for it.

Credit To – serenawitchwriter

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Let Me In

February 8, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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Kat sat alone on her couch, shoveling popcorn into her mouth. She stared at her TV tied to the suspense of the movie. The sky darkened as the sun approached the horizon, hidden behind the ocean of trees her house lay among. One lone tree stood in the center of her yard, visible through the living room window. A menacing presence filled the area yet to make itself known.

Kat was glued to her movie, but still able to catch a glimpse of the black object aimed at her door. THUD! Kat jumped, startled by unexpected disturbance, spilling the popcorn. “What the hell?” she whimpered, approaching the door. The door knob was cold in her hand, her heart pounded in her chest. The hinges squeaked as the door creaked open. A rush of cold air washed Kat’s face as her eyes scanned the dim yard. Nothing could be seen. Nothing made a sound.

She slowly shut the door, then cleaned up the popcorn. She had just sat down when another black object hit her door with a louder thud than before. She looked at the tree in the yard, almost certain she saw what threw it. Kat sat there watching the tree, waiting for something to happen. “It’s just some kids,” she thought “nothing to worry about.” She quickly made herself comfortable and began to turn on another movie. Minutes passed and another thud shattered the silence, shaking the door. Kat raced for the lock, and quickly shut the blinds. “They’ll go away.” she said, but grabbed a knife to calm her nerves and give her a sense of security.

Tap. Tap. Tap. She heard light pecking on the living room window. The pecking grew louder, faster. She froze there in place, staring at the windows as the tapping became more profound. She was afraid to investigate, but brave enough to stand her ground. Her home was small and every hiding place would be too predictable. Besides, she didn’t want to hide. She wanted to see it coming instead of cowering in fear.

The tapping suddenly stopped. Kat slowly made her way to the door and put her back to it. A shadow eclipsed the light from the window atop the door. She stood just out of sight, holding her breath. With her back pressed against the wood, she could feel it knocking, three times softly Kat could hear the galloping beat of her heart in her head, her anxiety raised to the peak. Three more knocks hit the door, harder this time. “Let me in.” a hoarse whisper slipped through the door and into Kat’s ears. She bit her lip, tears filling her eyes. Another three knocks erupted, furious now. “Let me in.” a now angry voice ordered.

The knocking didn’t cease. It grew harder as the voice grew louder. “Let me in! Let me in! LET ME IN!” The knocking grew so fierce it could have shattered the door. Tears leaked from her eyes. “What do I do,” she thought “should I open the door?” The knocking was more than she could bear. “I know you’re in there, Kat.” it said. Her stomach twisted, her breath caught in her throat, and tears now streamed down her face. “Go away!” she shouted finally. “Let me in!” it screamed in response. “Leave me alone!” she cried. The voice and the knocking echoed in her head, making her more nauseous than before. Reaching for the lock hesitantly, she sucked up her tears and held her breath, unlocking the door and throwing it open.

Nothing was there. The tree stood in the yard unmoving, no wind. Nothing. She shut the door, shaking in fear. With the click of the lock, the room grew cold. Goose-bumps covered her skin. “Thank you for letting me in.” a voice whispered behind her.

Credit To – Savannah K Davis

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The Devil’s Chamber

January 21, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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This is such a stupid idea. Why are we even doing this?

Those were the thoughts that arose in my mind on that chilly, eerie evening. Sitting in the passenger seat of the dimly-lit car which belonged to my best friend Matt, I peered out the window and glanced up at the beautiful, yet ominous, night sky. The moon was huge and luminous. I looked at my watch. It was just about midnight, a time when most normal people would already be in bed.

I glanced over at Matt, who was gleefully driving to our destination, seemingly unaware of how stupid this whole thing was. “Why are we doing this, Matt? You know nothing’s gonna happen,” I said, slightly annoyed at the entire situation.
Matt looked at me with aggravation.
“You agreed to come, so stop being a little bitch and try to have some fun,” he snapped.

After about five more minutes of driving, Matt stopped the car abruptly. “Here we are,” he proclaimed with genuine excitement. He then turned to me and corrected himself. “Well, almost. We have to do a little walking.”

I followed Matt as we walked down a steep grassy hill and ended up in the woods. Pitch black. “I can’t see a fucking thing,” I exclaimed. “Don’t worry dude, I brought a flashlight.” He pulled a small flashlight out of his jeans pocket. “Of course,” I muttered under my breath. We continued through the woods for what seemed like an hour. Finally, we arrived in front of a vast, deep tunnel.

I looked at Matt. “What the hell is this thing?”

“The Devil’s Chamber. Here we are. Let’s go.” Matt said, dangerously eager to go inside the death trap.

I stopped him. “Woah, woah, woah, we’re not going in there, are we? We’re gonna kill ourselves. What if the flashlight dies? What if there’s someone else in there? What if there’s–”
“What if you stopped being such a pussy and just walked in?” my friend interrupted in a half-joking tone. “Come on, let’s go.”

I reluctantly followed him into the tunnel. It was cold, dark and damp. Insects were everywhere, not to mention all the dead rats, mice, and of course the occasional decaying cat. There were all sorts of graffiti covering the walls. I instantly felt something very strange throughout my body. It felt as if a bubble of negative energy was trying to push itself into me. I was overwhelmed with a sense of dread. However, I remembered how damn excited Matt was to be here, so I kept my mouth shut and continued to follow behind him.

As we reached the middle of the tunnel, Matt pulled out his camera and decided to take a few pictures. For the next couple of minutes all I heard was the loud snap of Matt’s camera, paired with a flash that nearly blinded me. Suddenly, I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I quickly turned around, but of course, nobody was behind me. I shrugged it off and kept walking. “Maybe it was a bug,” I thought, in an attempt to calm my nerves.

The tunnel became colder and darker the further we walked. “How long is this tunnel?” I asked Matt. He turned to me and smirked. “Would you relax? We’ll turn back in a minute.” I noticed that he was beginning to feel a bit nervous. “You’re right though, we have been walking for a while. Let’s turn around.”

We began to walk back to the entrance. I couldn’t wait to get out. As we were walking, I abruptly heard something that sounded like a young girl’s laughter. Then, I felt it again. The hand on my shoulder. The same small, child-like hand. This time, it was more assertive, like something was really trying to get my attention. Again, I tried to tell myself that it was probably just a bug or something. I just wanted to get the hell out of this place.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we reached the entrance and quickly walked outside. We hurried through the woods and up the hill, glancing over our shoulders every so often to make sure nothing was … “following” us.

At last, we arrived at Matt’s car. I wasted no time opening the passenger door and hopping in. Matt then got inside after me and started the car. He pulled his camera out of his backpack. “Alright, let’s see what we got,” he said with a radiant grin.

The two of us looked carefully at every picture. Nothing. Just a bunch of concrete, dirt and spiders. Then, we came across a picture of me standing in front of Matt. We both looked closely and gasped.

There was a small child-like hand, gently resting on my shoulder.

Credit To – Jake Grogan

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The Serene Cyclist

December 13, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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I used to live in Cambridge a while back, which is a small city smack in the middle of England, best known for the university that is as large as the city itself. But I was there for work. I had a few friends around the city, and Cambridge being a very green city, it is the ‘Cambridge way’ to cycle around to most places. I would mostly visit my friends in the evenings, and we would all stay up till late, not socializing, or drinking, but playing games, musing philosophically and finding other means of continuing our existence. On the nights this continued for particularly long I would have to cycle back halfway across the city, often in cold. This was usually quite pleasant; Cambridge is quite a safe city, and I generally enjoy being out in the dark, alone, under the yellow of the night-lights. It was one of those nights, though, that I met what felt to me like the devil himself.
It was on another one of those long quiet lamp-lit roads on a particularly chilly February night. I was halfway home and slightly wary of it being 3 am. This was late even by my standards, and this put me somewhat on edge. My senses seemed to be more alert than usual and I was unconsciously keeping an eye on every single shadow on the street, trying to avoid as many alcohol fuelled incidents as I could. As I turned into a street that told me I was not very far from where my apartment was located I started to feel much more peaceful. It was halfway across the street biking at my leisure that I noticed a man in a dark jacket cycling around 20 feet in front of me. My senses suddenly sharpened again, due to the simple fact of him seeming to appear out of nowhere. Perhaps I had not been paying as much attention as I thought I was.

The man was cycling quite slowly, and even while barely pedalling I slowly started to draw near him. It also started to get quieter on the street. It took me a few moments to realize that I could not hear the man’s bike or the many mechanical clicking sounds my bike often made. The quiet was eerie. That should have warned me, but not heeding what now seems like a very obvious warning, I kept cycling closer to the man. I found his speed quite peculiar, even more so that his dark attire, and so as I drew nearly level I glanced at his body. I say his body because his face was not very human. It was made of what can only be described as a shadow, and with eyes that seemed like he very depths of hell itself. One look left me lifeless, motionless, speechless, riding down the slope right next to him, too scared to move, too scared to act. And worst of all, I was unable to take me eyes off his.

“This way is closed” he said, in a growling voice that made my hair stand on end. “This is way is closed. Go back.”

That was all he said, but those with those words the hold his eyes– its eyes had over me was broken. I managed to find some life in my hands and I braked as hard as I could, letting him get ahead of me. He continued to cycle ahead at his eerily slow place and then, as mysteriously as he had appeared in front of me, he was gone. He simply disappeared, unhurriedly, into the shadows at the end of the street. The rest of the way back home for me was a fight against my own body. My mind would not stop reeling from the horror it had just experienced, and my heart was in my throat, unwilling to go down. I could not think. I could not rationalize. I had no refuge. I could hear again. I could hear the wind in my ears, the clunking of my pedal as I cycled as fast as I could. and unfortunately for me, I could hear someone riding a bike a little behind me.

When I finally got home, I threw my bike and rushed into my first-floor apartment, refusing to look at what was surely there. I could still hear footsteps following me up the stairs but I refused to acknowledge them as I rushed into my room as fast as I could, and into the refuge of my bed.

I could still see shadows under my front door as I finally decided to go to bed. They refused to go away.

True story from 3:49 am, 25th of February, 2012.

(This is a part of a collection of real life horror stories and memoirs currently being collected and compiled by Salman Shahid Khan. For more, please visit and follow the writer’s blog here)

Credit To – Salman Shahid Khan

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Has anyone else seen it, or an I the only one?

November 15, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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I’ve done my best to research this phenomenon, if it even is one, to no avail; there is not a single dream journal in print or through the Internet grape vine that can ease my unsettled heart. Two packs of cigarettes and a house to myself are all I have each night, and the light from the screen projecting the deepest and darkest corners of the internet are as comforting as a polite mugging; I just need to sleep without dreams.

A few years ago, my father died. He was a good, Nordic man, a sailor and a veteran with a heart of gold and a liver of blackened steel. After my mother stole my siblings and I away from him when I was a child, only to bring us to our jailor of an abusive stepfather, he has been my protector. My drunken, jobless, kind hearted saint of a father. In the last few years of the boozing haze of his life, an entire twenty-four pack of beer would be drained within twelve hours every day; each night he would fall asleep with a burning cigarette in his hand, and an aluminum can at his feet. Our ranch style deer shack of a house never burned to the ground, but that would most likely be an improvement. I’m currently nestled deep in the woods, the developments of concrete jungle miles away from the original homestead.

When he died, I was twenty-three years old. I had no family, no husband, and no morals. On my twenty-fourth birthday on an unseasonably cold day in May, I buried him. The priest and I had the occasion to ourselves. I’ve been doing drugs for most of my life, but the remainder of my money and pathetic inheritance fell into the deep hole that is cocaine addiction. A year ago I tried to sell my couch in exchange for a couple of measly lines; even today, I’m not far from that mess. No much longer after that, I tried to kill myself.

Earlier in that week, up to the attempt, I had been catching squirrels running lose in the attic, and had no idea how to get rid of them. So one day, drinking a beer on the back porch, I went to the sack I had them in, and tied it to the end of my black Mustang’s exhaust, got in and revved the engine for the entire woods to hear. When I opened the back, the corpses were charred black, slicked with grease and grime; it was then, I knew I wanted to die.

I jumped into her, my Black Widow, the Mustang, and shut the garage door. The ignition clicked over, engine blaring in the small concrete cube of a room. I laid back with a beer, and closed my eyes; not even crying. But fate, or so it seems, wants me to suffer; my father’s navy buddy, Ross, heaved the door open at the last minute, screaming, “Kris! Krissy!” and dragged me out, semiconscious into the gravel driveway. He saved my life, and after such a kind deed, he died of lung cancer three months ago.

Fast forward to two days ago; I was upstairs sleeping, and suddenly the door slams. “I’m home!” my father bellows. Clear as day, as certain as the keys I’m using are real. I ran, tripping every step, to the stair overlooking our door, to see nothing. Just the cold and reassuring loneliness that there isn’t a soul on Earth that cares about me. Even my dreams have started to turn.
For years, I’ve read scary stories. They give me a sense of power over life, a feeling of control. The words on a page that send shivers down your spine are a thrill difficult to achieve in other places, but there is very little truth in any story out there. But my dream, the dream is reality. Reality is the dream. Only in the sense that reality is the escape, not the other way around.

The night of my father’s voice, I slept deeply. The bed in my father’s old bedroom sits in front of a closet door, but in my dream it was blocked by something. At the wooden footboard of the antiquated frame, stood what looked like a man. Very tall, well over six feet, dressed in dark colors; he wore what looked like a suit, but memory on the clothes is hard to come by. His face was very long, almost a horse like quality, and pale. His irises were dark as well, and his expression was both blank and sinister. His mouth was extremely wide, and when he opened to speak, there were so many teeth I would certainly regret referring to him as a human being. But he never spoke, acted like he had changed his mind, and smiled. An ear to ear, wider than the Grand Canyon smile. And with that same grin, he lifted an overly long arm with boney fingers like that of a massive spider, and reached out for me. With his pointer finger out, he touched my forehead, but never actually made contact with bone; rather, the finger pushed my brain inside the skull. I felt as if he was informing me, touching me with knowledge, but what? I have no answer to that question.

Last night the dream was similar, but he wasn’t at the bed’s end. He was standing at its side like a family member stands beside the hospital gurney. He leaned in close to me, the features of his smooth and pale face nearly translucent and corpse like; the corpse that’s been found floating under six inches of bathwater for days. This time he produced two fingers, like a peace sign, and with the same terrible smile, pressed my eyes back, again never touching skin. His touch this time was cold, like having an ice cube against bare skin, only worse. On both occasions I have awoken from the nightmare with the closet door ajar, when it was clearly clicked shut each night. And thus brings me to my current predicament.

The closest thing that even reminds me of my experiences come out of works of horror fiction, and certainly not legends or tales from other horrified victims. But the symptoms have been invading from the dream world more and more; I hear frantic running up the stairs in the morning, doors slamming, whispering. The closet at the foot of the bed is cold, like a meat locker, and I can’t find any family photographs. And worst of all, the sun sets in a matter of hours, and the closest hotel is sixteen miles from here. Would driving through woods in the dark actually help my situation, or just be another chapter in a grisly paperback in a five-dollar bin at the bookstore?

I’m preparing tonight, with light and heat, as well as nailing the closet door shut. If I need to, the car’s garage bay is open and the keys in my pocket, but I haven’t been to hell and back to be frightened off by a figment in my own head. This is my only home, and despite the crippling sense of being alone in the dark, I certainly don’t need a friend like him.

Credit To – M.D.T

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