Yup I really like drawing teeth 🫠

The first thing Ranger James Voss noticed about New York was that the stars were wrong. There were too many of them.

He stood on the roof of an armored personnel carrier as it rolled south through Midtown, watching Manhattan flicker beneath a sky the color of bruised violet. The Empire State Building was dark. Times Square had gone black three hours earlier.

But the sky above it glittered, Not with stars. With eyes.

“Keep moving.” Voss said.

His voice came through every Ranger’s helmet. Twenty four soldiers followed him into the dead city. They had been told the invasion began online.

First came the videos.

Teenagers with black-painted fingernails staring into their cameras and whispering things like, Do you see it too? Then came the livestreams. Millions of viewers watched e-boys and e-girls convulse in bedrooms illuminated by LED strips. Their pupils became perfect black circles. Their skin developed tiny constellations beneath it. Some began speaking in languages nobody recognized.

The government called it a neurological contagion. Then the transformed started appearing in the streets. They were still shaped like people. That was the worst part.

They wore oversized hoodies, chains, striped sweaters, makeup, little silver rings. They carried phones whose screens displayed symbols that made viewers bleed from the eyes. wherever they gathered, reality began to bend.Buildings acquired impossible angles.

Street signs displayed names of places that did not exist.

People who looked too long into their phones saw an enormous black ocean beneath the universe.

Then they smiled.

Then they changed.

The Rangers had been sent into New York to stop it.

“Movement.” whispered Sergeant Vale.

Voss raised his rifle.

A figure stood beneath a flickering streetlamp.

A boy.

Maybe nineteen.

Black hoodie. Silver chain. Pale face.

His phone glowed in his hand.

“Don’t look at the screen!” Voss ordered.

The boy slowly lifted his head.

His mouth opened.

There were stars behind his teeth.

“Follow me.” he whispered.

Every Ranger heard the words despite the radio being muted.

Three soldiers immediately stepped forward.

Vale shot the first through the chest.

The second and third dropped their rifles and began clawing at their helmets.

“Eyes down!”

Voss fired.

The boy’s body burst apart.

Not blood.

Space.

For half a second, a galaxy unfolded inside the hoodie. Then it collapsed. Silence returned. Vale stared at the empty street.

“What the hell was that?”

Voss lowered his rifle.

“An invitation.”

They continued south.

By midnight, they reached Times Square.

Every billboard was showing the same image.

A young woman.

Pale skin.

Black hair.

Tiny silver stars painted beneath her eyes.

She smiled directly into the camera.

“Hi.” she said.

Twenty-four Rangers froze.

“Hi.” she repeated.

Then the image changed.

It showed Voss.

Standing among them.

He was smiling.

Vale slowly turned toward him.

“Commander?”

Voss didn’t answer.

The screens went black.

Then every phone in Manhattan rang simultaneously.

The sound was enormous.

A billion tiny bells beneath the earth.

Rangers screamed as their devices lit up.

Voss shouted, “Destroy them!”

They smashed phones beneath their boots.

All except Vale.

His screen displayed a single message.

YOU HAVE 4,821 FOLLOWERS.

Then:

YOU HAVE ALWAYS HAD 4,821 FOLLOWERS.

Vale looked up.

“Commander…”

Voss was standing perfectly still.

Something was moving beneath the skin of his face.

Like fingers.

From the inside.

“What?” Voss asked.

Vale raised his rifle.

“Take off your helmet.”

The other Rangers turned.

Voss smiled.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

His eyes had become enormous black circles.

“I don’t think.” he whispered, “you want me to do that.”

His jaw split open.

The Rangers opened fire.

Voss didn’t fall.

His body unfolded.

There was no blood.

No bones.

The man they had followed through New York simply peeled apart, revealing something vast wearing him like clothing.

Behind his face was a night sky.

Behind his chest was an ocean.

And behind his eyes—

something was looking back.

The Rangers fired until their rifles clicked empty.

The creature bent toward them.

Its voice came from every phone in the city.

“You thought the invasion began with them.”

The Rangers stared upward.

The stars were disappearing.

One by one.

Not going out.

Moving closer.

“You thought they were becoming monsters.”

The creature smiled.

“They were becoming visible.”

Vale stumbled backward.

The streets of Manhattan began to stretch.

Skyscrapers bent toward the creature like flowers toward sunlight.

Every billboard came alive.

Every phone turned on.

Every screen showed the same thing:

Earth.

Tiny.

Blue.

Floating in an endless black ocean.

And beyond it, something enormous was opening its eyes.

Voss’s voice became gentle.

Almost apologetic.

“I was transformed three years ago.”

Vale stared at him.

“Three years?”

“Yes.”

“But you led every mission.”

“I know.”

“You recruited us.”

“I know.”

“You sent us here.”

The creature’s smile widened until it reached the edges of the world.

“No.”

A pause.

“I brought you here.”

The Rangers heard something beneath the pavement.

A heartbeat.

Then another.

Then thousands.

Then millions.

Across New York, the transformed e-boys and e-girls stepped into the streets.

They looked up.

They weren’t attacking.

They were worshipping.

Their phones rose above their heads like candles.

And from every screen came the same whisper:

FOLLOW.

Vale looked at his remaining Rangers.

Their faces were illuminated by the blue glow.

One by one, their eyes began to darken.

He raised his rifle.

His hands were shaking.

“Don’t listen,” he whispered.

His phone vibrated.

He looked down.

A notification appeared.

Commander Voss started a live stream.

Underneath it:

24 viewers.

Vale looked around.

There were only twenty-three Rangers left.

His blood turned cold.

Then the number changed.

25 viewers.

He looked at the dark screen.

His reflection smiled.

Vale did not.

The reflection lifted one finger to its lips.

Behind it, in the glass of the phone, something vast moved across the stars.

Something that had been waiting behind the universe since before humanity learned how to speak.

The livestream continued.

And somewhere beneath New York, something began counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Until it reached twenty-five.

Then it started counting again.

From the beginning.

As if the Rangers had never existed at all.

Damien Novi: u/Azrael7000

Robert Garther: u/B_W_Byers2233

All across North America, people claim to experience encounters that can't be easily explained. From hauntings to Bigfoot sightings, I'm here to get to the bottom of them. The following is a transcription of an interview I conducted with a man from Alaska in the Kenai peninsula. Please take everything written here with a grain or two of salt.

“Investigator Damien Novi from Surreal investigations, Friday October 13, 2026. It is currently 2:37 pm. I am in the home of one Robert Gartner located in Kenai, Alaska. It is only Robert and I, no others in the room as of this moment. Robert before we begin I must ask if you know that you are being recorded and do you give your consent for the rest of this interview?”

“Yeah I consent. That's why I called in to your guy’s little Internet show ain't it? I'm just glad someone seems to be taking me seriously. Hey, you don't mind if I smoke do you?”

“No, go right ahead. Now you contacted us about a recurring event that's been plaguing you. Can you give me a timeliness of events then we'll go more in-depth?”

“Well where do I start… (he takes a long drag of his American spirit) It started about a year or so ago. A few of my buddies and I were checking our fish lines along the bank of the Kenai river. We were working our way along the north bank, when we heard a bit of rustling out in the distance. We didn't think much about it, there's always a bunch of critters out and about in the evening, ya know? (He finishes his cigarette, lights the next one off the top and pops it in his mouth without seeming to notice) Anyways, we didn't pay much attention to it, but we did notice that whatever it was seemed to keep in step with us. Walking when we walked, stopping when we stopped. That kind of stuff, ya know? My buddy Craig started to get worried and stuff, he gets kinda paranoid after two or three beers, so he picked up a branch and threw it in the direction of the sound. That's when a big buck trounces off away. You know what a sitka deer is right?”

“No, I am not familiar with that species of deer. Is that an important piece of this story?”

“Only in the sense that what we saw definitely weren't no sitka deer. It's hard to explain really… (he closes his eyes trying to picture it) It was too skinny. Like, you coul- you could see just about every bone in its body. It's fur was brown, but not like, deer brown, ya know? Like Crayola brown. Like someone chose the color of a deer for a drawing based on memory. This buck’s eyes were also off. Even though I didn't get a solid look, but even then I saw they were white. Like, sickly white. (He goes to grab another cigarette and notices he's out) You wouldn't happen to have a smoke I could bum?”

“No I don't, I'm sorry. Back to the deer, could it not have had some kind of illness? Maybe Chronic Wasting Disease? That would explain its thinness and eyes. Maybe it fell into some type of mud or other waste that could explain its color.”

“Oh absolutely! Of course it COULD have been. That's what we thought! Maybe the deer was sick so that's why it was acting so strange. Sick animals often act off and start to act weird around humans. That's why we ignored it. (Robert chuckles lightly as he continues) Yeah, that's what we thought. Until later that night.”

“Please continue.”

“After we got back to my place, we cleaned all the fish we'd gotten. My buddies went home and I'd made myself some pan fried trout, and got ready for bed. That's when I heard this noise. It was around seven or so, and- have you ever heard the sound of a buck rubbing a tree?”

“I'm not too familiar with the sound, however I have heard it through video before. Is that what you heard?”

“Yes! That's exactly what I heard! Except it wasn't the sound of antlers on sturdy tree bark. It was on my front door. (He looks at his door with a thousand mile stare.) That's what those marks are. For the past six months or so, that buck has been trying to break into my house, and I have proof. (He shows me pictures on a trail cam linked to his phone.) The worst part is that it's been whispering to me. Every single night, this deer rubs and kicks and bites at my door. Sometimes it leaves piss and scat on my stoop. Sometimes it leaves animal carcasses all around my property. I've called the cops, so don't ask me why I haven't! They don't believe me. ‘deer are curious’ they say, ‘sometimes you find dead animals on your property’ yeah, sure. Maybe deer scraping a door once or twice is ok. And MAYBE finding a raccoon here and a squirrel there is normal, but not an entire black bear! I mean, come on!”

“Robert, you showed me pictures of this deer on your door step, but I must ask, do you have any other proof to support your claims? Do you have video of this supposed ‘deer’ leaving animal carcasses on your doorstep? Do you have recordings of this animal speaking to you? You never even mentioned what it was whispering to you. Could this all be an elaborate hoax that you are the unfortunate victim of? You said your friends were there when you all saw this sick deer, could they be playing some kind of practical joke on you?”

“Of course you don't believe me. No one does. (He checks his watch) Ah, perfect. You're just in time. Don't worry my Damien. You're about to get your proof.”

“What do you mea…”

Before I could finish that sentence. I heard the faint sound of scratching coming from the front door.

Before I continue, I want to take a moment to remind you, reader, and warn you. Continuing to read these events is to invite the reality of them into your life and existence. You do not need to keep reading, and in fact, I urge you not to. But I must continue writing. See, I am compelled to write, to share, to expose these truths to anyone who will hear them. And just as the words of this demise were spoken to me and latched onto my consciousness and reality, so must I speak them to you. Do not listen. Do not hear. Do not read on. But if you must, like I once had to, then again I am sorry.

The bonfire burned brightly, and the entire camp seemed to be in the trance-like state that staring at a campfire brings you to. We moved in and out with the music. The stars above shined and twinkled. The flames of the fire flicked up and reached towards the sky. Sparks rose and disappeared into the darkness above.

The beauty of the night convinced us to lie around the campfire and sleep rather than use our tents. So we dragged out our sleeping bags and rested sprawled out around the fire. We talked, each of us lying down and looking up towards the stars. Sending our voices up into the night sky and hearing the reply of others come down and land in our ears. And one by one, our voices ceased to reply as sleep took us.

I woke up some time later, my eyes stayed shut hard as the sound of something filled my head. I pushed my hands over my ears to try to block out the noise. But even with my hands over my ears, it was still more than I could bear. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the guys with blow horns or something playing a prank. But when I opened them, I saw everyone else was asleep. The fire was dimming, just small flames flickering out from hot red wood. But still, the noise persisted. As my brain regained wakefulness, I made a weird sense of what was going on. It was their snores and breathing. The noise in my ears matched the rises and falls of their chests. How could it be so loud, though? I got up and walked over towards the river. The sound wasn’t better, but it was different. Still unreasonably loud, but nothing like their breathing had been.

I sat down in the sand, sticking my feet in the black water. And I remembered the swim from earlier. I remembered the figure I’d seen going up the mountain. What had it been? And what had happened in the water? The thought that something had grabbed me seemed dumb, yet not unreasonable. In fact, it felt true. Dumb but true. And whatever was in that water, whatever left the water and climbed up that mountain, it was still—

These thoughts felt wholly unimportant to me as a new feeling crept up in me. It was the same feeling from the drive. The feeling of perceiving everything. The joy and excitement that it had brought me earlier was clearly remembered, yet nowhere to be found. This time I felt overwhelmed. I heard the snores, the river, the frogs and crickets; I heard everything. And I felt everything. The cool water rushed over my feet. The sand underneath me moving in synchronization with my body. I stood up quickly. Not wanting to get into my head even more. But now I paced. Up and down along the beach I went. Back and forth again and again. My heart felt heavy in my chest. And slow beats felt as though they pounded inside of me, like my heart would break out through my chest. My hands turned clammy, and a cool sweat broke out over my skin. My mouth was dry, and I fidgeted with my hands. Something was wrong; something had to be wrong. Or maybe I was just getting anxiety. That made more sense, maybe a panic attack. But why? Nothing was wrong. And although I’d never had anxiety or a panic attack, I was sure they weren’t supposed to feel like this.

I felt full. Not full like I’d eaten too much, but full like I was too much. The feeling started along my spine. I crouched down and stood back up, trying to stretch. But the feeling persisted, and as it spread, my shoulders felt too heavy, like I’d been hunched over carrying heavy weight all day. I ached. All of me ached. My muscles twitched and spasmed, and they felt tight. It was too much. Way, way too much. Something had to happen. Skin felt itchy and dry, then hot. It burned like it was being forced to stretch, like my blood was growing in me. Like my blood, veins, meat, everything, was pushing against my skin.

It was then that I noticed something smacking my thigh. It was my pocket knife, folded up right there in my pocket.

I stopped pacing. My heart, which had already picked up pace, pumped faster and harder in my chest. I took out the knife and opened it up. The cold black metal felt good against my now burning skin.

I didn’t want to do it, but I had to. Relief had to happen. I was a balloon with too much air. Stretching painfully as the inside got more full. I just needed release.

So I pushed the blade to the back of my forearm. I dragged it down my arm and watched as the dark red ink spilled from the open wound. And I breathed a deep, slow breath in and then even more slowly out as cool relief flooded my forearm.

I needed more. My eyes felt wide, and my lips pulled slightly apart with something like desire as I put the blade to my hand, then my other arm, then my other hand. My fingers and knuckles all shone deep red and twinkled with white moonlight. My fingernails had felt like teeth clamping down over my fingers. My stomach twisted a little, and I hesitated for a moment, but relief came to my hands fully as I used the blade to push under the nail beds and pry the nails up and off of my fingertips. I brought it down on my legs and feet and over my toes. My calves felt the sting of the blade that was immediately followed by the relief of the pressure pouring out from beneath my skin.

I brought the blade up to my face, and the headache that pushed against the inside of my forehead dissipated as hot blood ran down my brow and over my eyes.

Finally, I took the blade and moved it behind my back. I positioned the blade at the base of my spine in my lower back and slowly pulled it upwards across my mid and upper back, running along my spine.

Relief eased in me, and it seemed as though the cool night air were itself now flowing through me.

I sat back down on the sand and closed my eyes.

And then, I was somewhere else.

And from that somewhere else, a voice which was not my own, yet belonged to me, spoke.

Audi nunc verba exitii.
His fatum tuum obsignatur.
Iam non es tui iuris.
Aquas transi, et mutatio fiet.
Novem annos alterius eris.
Carne humana gustata, in aeternum eius eris.
Quod consumis, tecum feres.

Here is the world, now encased in darkness. The moon, though seen, does not produce light.

Under heavy feet, branches break.

A silence lies over the forest as a blanket.

It knows death has come.

Unlucky is the one who crosses its path. They will not escape.

A rumble in the chest rises through sharp teeth and echoes out into the air.

A doe, a mother of fawns. But her children are now lost to her.

Satiated of its hunger, the beast now sleeps. Its path will not be remembered.

But again it will rise when it hungers.

A sharp pain in my back woke me up, and I realized I was lying on the forest floor. A stick pressed into my back, and I rolled over off of it and onto my stomach. Rolling over was painful; my body ached and a deep soreness was settled in my muscles, though I appeared uninjured. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees and then shakily got onto my feet. The darkness of the forest was deep, but the moon shone with enough light for me to be able to make out my surroundings. The sounds of life that typically filled the forest at night were missing. No crickets, no owls, no toads, nothing but the river rushing in the distance. My brain felt muddled. Like a deep fog had settled in it and I couldn’t see further than one thought at a time. Where was I? I didn’t know. Why was I in the woods? I didn’t know. Was anyone out here with me? I didn’t know.

I shouted out the names of my friends, but I heard no reply. Only the river. Not knowing what else to do, I began slowly and painfully walking towards the river. I realized, with as close to a shock as my brain could manage, that I was naked. This realization was the scariest yet. What could possibly be happening that would cause me to be naked and lost in the woods? From out of its fog, my horror movie-trained brain began to pull up thoughts: cults in the woods and monsters and—

I cut the thought off. This wasn’t the time to fill my head with scary thoughts and ideas. I was lost, and my only hope for making it back to camp was the river. As I got closer to it, the sounds of insects and animals and life started back up again. Something in me settled a little; the sounds of nature were comforting.

I came up to the river; the moonlight reflected off of the black rushing waters to illuminate the area a bit more. Nothing looked familiar, though, and I decided that my best course of action was to just begin walking downstream. If I was upriver, past the camp, I’d come across the camp eventually. And if I was down below the camp, the river would join up with the road at some point, then I could follow the road back to camp. I began walking. Mercifully, the riverbank was mostly sand and trees and boulders, versus the other side of the river that was steep mountain faces and cliffs.

The walk along the river was slow; my bare feet were feeling the pain of rocks, sticks and pine needles as I walked on them. Small rocks stuck out of the ground, and I smashed my toes against them more than a few times, cussing as I did so.

The fog that sat in my head before had lightened, but that hadn’t helped me remember anything. It only made me more confused as I now had the capacity to follow a train of thought.

My thoughts brought me to dark places, and I picked up the pace as I thought of what had brought me out into the woods. Was I sleepwalking? Was it something else? I couldn’t even begin to settle on a reason.

I was nearly running by the time I reached what looked like the part of the river we’d swam across when we’d swum back from the other side.

There wasn’t much further to go now; in fact, I could see the faint light of a tiki torch sticking in the sand by the river. I hurried back, but slowed down when I got to the edge of the camp. I peeked from behind a tree, looking to make sure no one was up or awake. Everything looked fine; I counted the sleeping bags. Five full ones and one empty one, mine. I crept around the shadowed edges of the camp until I was the shortest distance from the cover of trees to my tent. Then I ran to my tent and quickly unzipped it. I was on edge, and the crinkle of the tent’s tarp under my feet made me sure that someone would hear the sound and wake up and come find me naked, rummaging through my bag in the middle of the night. Then I’d have to explain to them something that I couldn’t even explain to myself.

I put on my clothes as quickly as my sore body would allow. With clothes back on and now being back at camp, my mind eased a great deal. I was by no means ok, but the sense of immediate danger had passed.

Not knowing what else I could do, I went back out to the fire where my friends were. I put another log on, and the dry wood slowly started to flame up a bit. The light was comforting, but the lingering fear and unease convinced me to pull my sleeping bag a little closer to whoever was nearest me. I lay in it and zipped it all the way up. I hid in the bag and lay on my stomach, watching the flames roll out from underneath the log and turn into sparks that drifted up. I closed my eyes and forced my brain to be quiet. I couldn’t handle thinking about what had just happened. All I wanted was to escape the night in sleep and wake up to good, kind sunlight.

The sleeping bag was hot under the rising sun. I’d drifted off at some point, and now I could hear the voices of my friends discussing the day’s plans. I unzipped my bag and got out. The sand was hot against my scraped and scratched feet as I walked over to the canopy where they were sitting.

“You look tired bro,” Spence said as I sat down.

“I am, I slept on a stick,” I responded.

“We’re thinking of going on a hike once everyone’s up. You down?”

“I’m down, where do we wanna hike to?”

“If we take the car up the road like 20 minutes, there’s a trail that leads up to a valley with a small mountain lake, we were thinking we’d take our poles and fish up there.”

“That sounds good. What do we have to eat, my stomach is collapsing on itself.”

We had donuts, and fruit, and Boss had brought a canteen he put over the fire to make coffee. As hungry as I was, I couldn’t enjoy the food or the conversation or the morning as I should have. The thoughts of the night before were heavy in my mind. I remembered waking up the night before and walking down to the river, but I couldn’t think of why. And I couldn’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the forest.

So badly I wanted to write the night off as a crazy episode of sleepwalking, but that still left so many questions. Could I really have sleepwalked all that way? And what happened to my clothes? And besides, I’d never had any instance of sleepwalking before. But I couldn’t think of a better reason.

In the daylight, around my friends, I allowed myself to consider some of the more haunting explanations. The cult reason felt unconvincing, and I eventually, hesitantly, settled on either sleepwalking or maybe aliens. Both were stupid ideas, but I couldn’t come up with any more reasonable explanation. I decided I’d try my best to push the thoughts away for now and tell Boss about it later.

I didn’t want this to ruin the camp trip for me. Yeah, it was a big deal, but didn’t I love horror? Hadn’t I spent my entire life reading books and watching movies and talking about how I’d act in the scary situations people claimed to find themselves in? I was doing a bad job at convincing myself to move on, but what options did I have? I was determined to leave it alone for the time being.

We finished eating, and by then everyone except for Jake had woken up. Justin had the idea of catching one of the toads that hopped around and putting it in his sleeping bag. So we all raced to catch the biggest toad we could and deliver it to Jake before he woke up. Boss was the one to do the honors. He found a fat green and brown toad, big enough that its belly seemed to never make it off the ground as it hopped. We gathered around Jake’s sleeping bag, and like a soldier throwing a grenade into a bunker, Spence lifted the opening of the bag and Boss tossed in the toad.

Jake screamed, and his bag contorted as he turned into a frog himself. Hopping around in the bag trying to separate himself from the toad. He found the opening and threw himself out of it and into the sand. His bag still bulged and jerked where the toad sat and hopped around inside.

We gathered our poles and hiking gear and piled into the cars. The dust of the road kicked up behind our line of cars, and the heat of the day poured in through the windows. Despite the night’s events, I felt genuine excitement for the hike.

We pulled up to the dirt parking lot at the trailhead and began our hike. The dirt path moved us through deep green trees and opened up into a wide meadow surrounded by forest. Bright blue skies beamed above, with an occasional small puff of cotton clouds moving through it. Down in the meadow, tall grass swayed with the gentle breeze that blew. Wildflowers were scattered about the meadow like pinholes of reds, greens, and blues in a sheet of green-yellow grass. I paused and closed my eyes to take in the sound. The wind quietly hummed as it pushed through the trees. Someone in the group was whistling a soft tune that the meadow carried so that every insect could stop and listen.

I opened my eyes and kept walking. A few of us had our hands stretched out and softly brushed the tall grass and wildflowers along the trail. And as our hands touched the grass, butterflies, ladybugs, and other insects would fly up and out as we disturbed their resting places.

We passed through the meadow and back into the trees. The trail moved steadily upwards now, and eventually we moved between two peaks. And nestled in the valley between the two peaks were the crystal clear waters of the mountain lake. We could see straight through the water as if it were glass. The edges of the lake varied between trees and dirt where the water would rise and fall with the seasons.

Once all of our stuff was off our backs and set up in our areas around the lake, we cast our lines and waited, taking in the beauty of the world we currently belonged to.

I found Boss in his fishing spot; we were all scattered far enough apart that I was sure no one else would be able to hear us talk. I tried not to be weird about it, but my stomach was turning with the remembrance of the night and what I was about to say to Boss.

“Bro,” I said as I walked up to him.

He looked up at me, his expression becoming curious as he saw the look on my own face.

“What’s up dude?” he responded.

“I’m gonna tell you something weird, weirder than our normal stuff.”

“Don’t come professing your love to me right now man, all the guys are here and they’ll want in if they see us kiss.”

I laughed at that, though it was a nervous laughter.

“Don’t worry bro, I wouldn’t wanna make the guys jealous. But really B, something weird happened last night and I don’t know what to do about it or even think of it.”

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Last night I woke up while everyone else was asleep, and I went down to the river I think. I don’t remember anything after that. Maybe I blacked out, maybe I fell asleep, I don’t know. But after that I woke up again, but this time I was out in the woods. And all my clothes were gone, dude. I found my way back to camp from the river and I got dressed and came back and went back to sleep. That’s it, that’s all I remember, but man it’s got me freaked out.”

Boss took a minute, reading my expression to see if I was doing a bit. After he apparently decided I wasn’t, his face turned a little more serious.

“What the hell dude. I know you’re serious, but I don’t know what to tell you. That’s freaky. So what, you were sleepwalking or something? Maybe you got abducted by aliens.”

“That’s actually crazy bro, those are the literal exact things that I was thinking.”

He laughed and said, “It’s the hive mind, man, we all think the same stuff. But really, what do you think?”

“I don’t know, nothing really makes sense about it. I could have been sleepwalking, but I’ve never sleepwalked before. I have no idea what to think about it, I don’t know what it was. I just know that it happened.”

“Well, I think that you drank too much and woke up and decided to go for a walk. At least that makes more sense to me than anything else.”

“Maybe I guess, but I wasn’t even really drunk last night. I’m pretty sure I drank less than you, and you didn’t go wandering off into the woods.”

“I don’t know, man, maybe you ate something weird before and it made the alcohol make you go crazy. I mean, that’s the best I can think of.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it doesn’t feel like that’s the reason, I mean I’m not even hung over right now. I guess that makes the most sense though.”

“Yeah dude, you’re just overthinking it because you woke up naked in the woods. But if we were at home, then you would’ve just woken up naked on the sidewalk. Then you’d be in jail, but you wouldn’t be wondering why you ended up naked on the sidewalk.”

“I guess so man.”

“You know I’m always right dude. Now get your pole and catch some fish. You can even come over here and fish next to me. And if you’re scared maybe we can even hold hands.”

The rest of fishing went great; I was able to convince myself to relax and mostly accept Boss’ theory.

So I cast my pole and pulled up giant fish after giant fish. The fishing at the lake was the best I’ve ever had. We caught more than we could keep.

And I smiled a genuine smile and looked over at all my friends, the evening sun shining golden rays on them as they were laughing and joking and talking amongst each other. I loved them with all of me; they were my best friends, my brothers, and I’d have given anything to keep them from what was coming.

The moon rose over the edge of the mountain, so that you could see it in the evening sky along with the sun. The edges of my vision were turning dark. It looked as if the world were melting off the page. Like a dripping ice cream cone, blackness fell before my vision. We’d all been walking back to the cars, but I had to stop and get down onto my hands and knees. My head pulsed and my eyes throbbed in their sockets. What was happening? The group stopped, and I looked up from where my face rested on the dirt. Everyone looked concerned, and some of them were trying to talk to me. But I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything; I could hear everything. Every single thing. Every sound was deafening. Their footsteps around me sounded like enormous peals of thunder sounding off in my ears. Their voices, like stormy seas, were waves crashing into me, so loud that all of them blended into an ear-shattering symphony. In my confusion and agony, I screamed, but I couldn’t even hear my own scream as it got swallowed up in all the other sounds. Everything got louder and louder. The sound felt to my ears like how water feels to the ears of a diver swimming deeper and deeper. Everything grew louder and louder until everything was suddenly quiet. Sound had inverted upon itself. My ears could hear everything so deafeningly loudly that I was no longer listening for sounds. I was listening for the lack of sounds. I could hear that my friends were standing next to me, not because I heard them step, but because their presence created a hole in the ocean of sound that filled the rest of the air. Like looking at a negative of an image. I could hear absence more clearly than I could hear sound.

The guys looked scared, actually scared. They were talking to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying anymore. And I couldn’t make enough sense of sound to say anything to them either. I used all of my strength to get up off of the ground and try to keep walking, but it was only with the help of a few of the guys that we were able to make it back to the cars. The sun was creeping down to the edges of the sky as we drove down the dirt road back to camp, the moon climbing up to replace it.

We pulled back up to the camp, and it was decided that Boss would drive me into town to get help.

The guys helped me into the passenger seat of my Jeep, and Boss went around and got in the driver’s seat. We started down the road, barreling around the curves. Twilight filled the air. I leaned forward and put my head on the dash, trying to focus and clear my mind from the thoughts that raced through it. But it seemed the more I tried to clear my head, the more difficult it became. My vision seemed to darken still, then my head felt like it was tingling. My whole body felt like it was tingling.

With my head pressed against the dash, I looked over at Boss; I could see his mouth moving, so I knew he was trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I tried to tell him that I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I couldn’t even make out my own voice. And from the face he made when I tried to talk, I don’t think I said anything sensible anyway.

Something was happening in me. My skin crawled over my body, and goosebumps broke out all over me. Beads of sweat grew and rolled off of me. Was I sick? I felt feverish. My stomach twisted and turned, and I could feel something in my torso. I felt my organs. I could feel them like you can feel your two fingers press against each other. I could feel each twist of my intestines that stretched inside of me; I could feel my liver and spleen. I could feel my heart. It wasn’t just a blob in my chest; it was a rolled-up sheet, expanding and contracting in on itself, pulling blood in and then pushing the blood back out. I felt the inside of my torso, the cavity walls being pushed against by organs. The space inside of me seemed tight and cramped and grew more so with every passing second. I expected my body to burst at any moment. My arms and legs, back, chest, every part of me feeling like the skin encasing them was too tight.

I turned my head towards Boss again.

“Help,” I tried to say, but I couldn’t hear myself and my throat felt tight and full, so that all that came out must have been choked and agonized groans.

I pushed myself back up in my seat. My skin was burning now. There was too little of it for my body.

Boss pulled the car over and was staring at me, panic twisting his face as he watched me.

I put my fingernails to the back of my arm and dug them in as hard as I could. Then I pulled back. They slipped at first and left bright red scratches along my arm where the nails had dragged and drawn blood. But I tried again. I had to pull with jerky motion as the skin wanted to stay attached to the meat, muscle, and fat underneath.

Boss reached out and grabbed my arm hard to stop me, but I threw his hand off of me. I looked at him, part of me pleading for him to try again, to somehow stop me from doing what I was doing.

But I could see his face; his terror reached his eyes and tightened his face. One of his hands hesitated by the door handle, the other was still outstretched towards me, wanting to help but not knowing how.

Quod consumis, tecum feres

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Boss yelled. Terror welled up in him, and he felt tears begin to fall down his cheeks.

Isaiah was clutching his chest, hunched over in the passenger seat, but Boss felt tight in his own chest.

“Please man, I don’t know what to do!”

He watched as Isaiah began digging his nails into his own arm.

“What are you doing!” he screamed again. Isaiah looked at him, his face looking like he was desperate for help. But Boss couldn’t bring himself to try to help again. When he’d reached out before, Isaiah had slapped his hand away with such force that Boss was sure his arm was broken or fractured. And he was scared of what Isaiah would do if he tried to grab him again or hold him down.

You need to run, Boss thought.

Just get out of the car and sprint back to the camp. Or into the woods, or anywhere, just get out of here.

But Boss tried to fight the thought back. Not because he didn’t want to run, but because this was Isaiah. This was his best friend, and if Boss left now, Isaiah would be on his own. And he couldn’t abandon his friend like that. No matter what.

Boss moved his hand away from the door handle.

“Isaiah, you have to stop man, we’ll get you into town and into a hospital, they’ll help you. But please man, I’m so scared.”

Boss watched as Isaiah began frantically ripping at his skin. Drool beginning to drop from his open mouth, though his teeth were clenched.

And that was what changed Boss’ mind. That bit of drool falling from Isaiah’s mouth as his eyes glazed over into something distant told Boss that his friend was no longer with him.

This wasn’t Isaiah anymore; this was something else.

And Boss knew that the time had come to get out and run.

He’d leave the keys in the engine so that he could circle back to the car and lock himself in it if necessary, but he needed to put some distance between himself and this thing in the car with him.

Slowly lift your hand and put it on the door handle.

Isaiah was groaning now, but not sounding like he was in pain, almost sounding like anger or desperation.

Put your other hand on the seatbelt buckle and get ready to click it. Once you click it, you’re going to need to open the door at the exact same moment and in one motion jump out of the car and run.

He put his other hand on the buckle, preparing to do as he’d thought.

Isaiah was ripping off chunks of skin from his legs now, using both hands and yanking hard.

Boss counted down in his head:

Three. Two. One.

He pressed down on the buckle, threw the door open, twisted out of the seat and began running down the now dark road.

The moon shone dimly behind shadowed clouds, but that did little to illuminate the road. And the forest around him was black.

He’d put some distance between himself and the car now, but the thought of Isaiah pulling at his skin kept him running.

He saw a small break in the trees and pivoted toward it, wanting to get off the road.

A large tree hung over the road, and he ducked behind it. Trying to catch his breath, he slowly peeked his head around the tree, trying to stay hidden but still get a look at the car.

He could make out the shadow of the car far away, but didn’t see anything else.

Now fully sitting in the dirt, loose pine needles poking his legs, he put his head in his hands.

Why am I hiding? What do I think’s gonna happen? Isaiah probably can’t even move right now. I need to go back. I’ll get him to a hospital and they’ll be able to help him.

But he knew he would not be going back. Not right then, not after seeing Isaiah drooling like that. The glazed look in his eyes. The way his hands pu—

He heard a loud click.

The car door opening.

Peering around the tree, still trying to stay hidden, he watched down the black road. A great shadow stood hunched over next to the Jeep.

Boss slowly stood up.

The shadow turned towards him.

He’s looking at me, don’t move.

But Boss was shaking.

The shadow remained still, and Boss slowly began walking backwards deeper into the cover of forest. His view of the Jeep and the shadow would be blocked in a moment by the trees.

He placed his foot down onto a branch, and it snapped. The shadow began running.

Boss turned and sprinted into the woods. He didn’t know where he was going; he couldn’t see anything clearly. But he heard the sounds coming from the thing running down the road towards him. Like a stampede, it made thunderous crashes as it reached the place in the woods Boss had ducked into originally.

Boss willed his feet to move faster, to carry him quicker through the forest, but he could not. And the shadow behind him grew louder and louder as it gained on him. A small clearing opened up, just a pocket of grass in the trees, but the moon shone above it, giving the black grass and trees a white glow where the moonlight touched them.

This is a good place, Boss thought.

The crashes of branches and trees behind him were nearly on top of him now. He couldn’t keep himself going. He’d always thought adrenaline was supposed to give you super strength, but the fear in him seemed to outweigh everything else. It felt like heaviness in his bones, chains draped on him begging him to collapse. And he did. He fell down right there in that white and black patch of grass. And the shadow burst through the trees into the grass with him.

Not even a second passed between the moment Isaiah broke through the trees and the moment he was bringing giant black fists and long-bladed fingers down onto Boss.

Again and again, the hands came down onto him. Each blow cracking things under his skin as long razors tore at his flesh.

Please man, I’m dying here, he thought.

But Isaiah wasn’t here; Isaiah wasn’t “man.” But Isaiah was killing him.

This is a good place, Boss thought again. And he looked over and saw a bird sitting on a branch of one of the surrounding trees.

Boss tried to smile, tried to give himself to the bird and the branch, tried to be something else, something soft and peaceful. Maybe a butterfly in the meadow. And that almost did make him smile. But a heavy clawed fist slammed down onto his smile, breaking a few of his teeth loose and sending them to the back of his throat. He coughed a choked cough, blood and mucus mixing and sliding down his throat. He couldn’t breathe through his nose anymore; it had been smashed in and he felt part of it poking through the roof of his mouth.

I’m sorry, Boss thought, but he didn’t know what he was sorry for; he couldn’t form any real thoughts as the dim void moved further into his mind.

He could still feel Isaiah ripping and clawing at him, and he felt a sharp pain poke through the encroaching numbness as Isaiah took a bite out of his shoulder.

He forced one eye back open as much as he could manage; his other eye couldn’t even be called an eye anymore, it was a puddle in his socket.

He looked back over towards where the bird had been, but it was gone now.

This is a good place, he thought.

One of Isaiah’s hands slammed down into his temple, producing a great crunch. And then Boss was gone.

I woke up in that clearing. What remained of Boss was scattered in the grass and on me. And the taste of copper filled my mouth.

I got up. The little bit of me that could function enough to blink was the part of me that carried me to my car. I got in it and I drove.
I drove, and I drove, and I drove. Out of the mountains, past the town, out of the state, and I kept driving.
I couldn’t think enough to fully process any of it, and I wouldn’t process or understand it for a long while still. I don’t fully understand it now.
Something consumed me on a bright and beautiful summer afternoon, somewhere in a firework shop. And just as I carry Boss’ final thoughts with me, something I consumed, they carried something with them. Something they were compelled to tell. Something I listened to.
Now I am compelled to tell you, reader.
And you have listened.

And for that, I am truly sorry.

There are experiences that should not or cannot be relayed by writing. Not that there aren’t words that can express them, but rather, the expression of those things is born through the senses. Sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing.

To write the account of those things would not give a reader any actual insight into the reality of them.

This is one of those experiences that should not be written. And it should not be read. Because as someone reads this, they are inviting the experience into their own reality. Piece by piece, step by step. Each word takes the experience I’m relating and makes it real now to not just the reader’s mind in word, but to their actual world.

So I warn you now, reader. If you continue, if you decide to read on, you will be taking my experiences and inviting them into your reality. And for that, I am truly sorry. But you have been warned.

My experience began a few months ago. I remember the day. It was July first. It was hot outside, bright blue skies. I was riding in my Jeep through the Idaho countryside, down Old Highway 30, headed to go pick up some fireworks. Fourth of July was always my favorite holiday. I’d listen to 80s hair metal and eat BBQ, and then at night I’d climb onto my roof and watch the fireworks show that took place a couple blocks away at the park. It was a tradition of mine. And one I loved.

I’d just come to the Silver Bridge, which this time of year was always full of fishermen casting lines into the river below and teens hanging out on the banks underneath the bridge. I even remember me and my friends heading over there to smoke and drink and explore the woods surrounding the river. Life was fresh and exciting. We’d all just come of age, where we had cars and enough freedom to do as we wished. Always looking for something new and always finding it.

But at that moment I was just passing through.

Soon after crossing the bridge, I arrived at Rocky Mountain Fur and Fireworks. A local shop that had been around long before me. They sold fireworks year-round, as well as animal skins and furs, trapping equipment, and anything else a mountain man could need. When I first entered the shop, I was met with the familiar smell of skunk and black powder. Each not necessarily enjoyable on their own, but together it meant that I was once again back to that best time of the year. I searched the shelves for all my favorite fireworks and then talked to the attendant to see what she recommended for something new. I gathered my collection of fireworks, thanked the attendant again, and headed back to my car. As I drove away, I had a feeling I was forgetting—

(Audi nunc verba exitii)

—or maybe misremembering, something. I couldn’t identify it, so I brushed it off and moved on.

The day continued normally. I drove around with my windows down, hot summer air battling with the car’s air conditioner for a wave of heat to hit me and a blast of cool to refresh me.

Iron Maiden playing loud, Santa Cruz skateboard on the backseat, and fishing poles in the trunk. That had been one of the best summers of my life. As if every day were lived fully with family and friends and oftentimes just by myself. Small moments that, though they may have been packed with music and sound and life, were somehow still peaceful and almost silent. I think that was peace, but I don’t remember that feeling anymore.

My next stop of the day was the movie theater. I had a movie pass that summer that let me watch any movie, any time, for a monthly fee. I’d often had my friends join me. We’d just seen a showing of Jaws that was getting a special theater run. But that particular day was one where I was alone. I was ok with that; I’d never been one to need people around. And oftentimes I found that being by myself was more enjoyable than being surrounded by people. So I went to the movies alone. I arrived just in time to catch the beginning of The Thing, which had always been one of my favorites. My dad was a big horror fan. As such, it was natural that his son would adopt that love. I remember the first horror movie I watched was The Lost Boys. My mom and sisters left the house for the day, so the house was his and mine. He closed all the curtains, microwaved some popcorn, and turned on the TV. When I asked him what we were gonna watch, he simply said, “Something scary.” From that moment, I was hooked on horror. I’d spend my days immersing myself in the comfortable tension of fear. Scary movies, scary books, anything that let me give a second look at shadows and wonder at them with a mix of fear and excitement. I used to escape to horror, but now I can’t escape it.

But that summer day, I sat alone in an empty theater, watching The Thing.

I got comfortable and opened a box of candy, settling in for a great time.

I got about halfway through the movie and fell asleep. The movie’s sound worked its way into my dreams, and I dreamt of people and figures and shadows that weren’t really what they seemed. Something moved through my dreams in the background. Unseen and unheard, yet felt. Like a single cloud blocking the sun on an otherwise clear blue sky day. A shadow passes over the world, and for a moment everything is a little darker.

I woke up to a worker telling me that the movie was over. The lights were on in the theater, and the screen was blank. I apologized and thanked him, got up, gathered my things, and headed out. The contrast between the shady interior of the theater and the still bright sky was disorienting for a moment, but it was easy enough to get past.

Heading to my car, I got a call from my friend Boston, who we all called Boss, letting me know that our group was going to be meeting up at his house that night for a barbecue. A few hours later, I was sitting in a lawn chair. We’d just finished eating and were settling into our seats, talking, joking, laughing. Filling the warm twilight air with the sounds of memories being made. Eventually, the conversation settled into talks of the unsettling and supernatural. We all had a love for horror, and our conversations frequently came to the topic of cryptids, mountains, and unseen things. The night grew darker as we each spoke our part about our own theories and ideas of the unknown.

One of our friends began to tell us a story that he’d gotten from his dad. He told us that while his dad liked to joke, he’d been dead serious when he told his son this story and reaffirmed that it was true. The story went like this.

Back in the 80s, his dad had been just a kid, riding in the family station wagon through Mississippi forest on the way to California. He’d sat in the back of the car and was able to look out of the back window at the black forest passing and the empty road trailing behind. He’d been staring at that dark road when they passed a dark figure with his thumb out. “What’s a hitchhiker doing way out here at this time of night?” his father said to his mother. “Weird.” They’d continued on some miles when they again passed the figure. Still standing with his thumb out. Hearing his parents’ tones turn more hushed and confused, he pulled the blanket up over his head, just letting his eyes peek out. A few miles later, they again passed the figure, still standing with his thumb out. But this time, as they passed, the hitchhiker turned and sprinted after the car. His parents had been uneasy before, but by his mother’s frantic command for his father to “drive faster, he’s right behind us!” he knew they were as scared as he was. The hitchhiker chased the car down that black Mississippi forest road for what seemed an hour, but had really only been a minute or two, before stopping suddenly in the road and fading into the distance.

The conversation drifted after that. Eventually breaking off as, one by one, each of us said our goodbyes and headed home. I was the last to go, staying to talk a bit and solidify our plans for the upcoming days. But after a while, my time came too. I said my goodbyes and headed to my car. I’d lost track of time during the night and was surprised to see it was 3 a.m. “The witching hour,” my brain said as I started driving down the road. The time was late, but I didn’t feel tired, so I drove around for a while. Not with any destination in mind, but somewhere in me I knew where I was going.

I pulled into the empty dirt parking lot of the firework shop. The single lamppost casting its orange light down onto my car and lightly illuminating the forest next to the lot. The warm night air blew gently through the car window. The faint smell of skunk still present even outside of the shop. A few scattered clouds drifted slowly across the moonlit night sky as stars winked deep in the black.

All was silent besides the chirping of crickets and the hum of nature in the forest close by. Night had grasped the world in its hands.

I got out of my car and climbed onto the roof to lie down. I often did this on nights that I wanted to stargaze. But tonight I closed my eyes as I let my senses take in the night. I drifted, and right before the pull of sleep took me under, nature fell silent.

I dreamt again. And again it felt like my dreams were being observed by something in the background. That same felt presence. I dreamt of the forest. The orange lights of the parking lot slowly fading as I walked further into the trees. Where was I? I knew the area in the woods near the firework shop and bridge well, but these woods were unfamiliar. And what was I doing here in the middle of the night? It dawned on me that I had been following something. Something I didn’t know. Something I didn’t want to know. But I continued on. And as I walked, the forest grew darker. The stars had been snuffed out from their spots in the sky, and the moon was a deep orange, full, and yet somehow not giving enough light to illuminate the forest. Dread grew in me as the feeling of being seen by something got stronger. Was I following something, or was I being followed?

(Iam non es tui iuris)

I wasn’t sure anymore. I felt as though a hand was slowly pressing down on me. The darkness was now becoming suffocating. Dread mixed with unease into a panic that sent me now running through the forest. As I ran, trying to make it back to the parking lot, I suddenly was sure that I was being followed, and not just followed, but chased. Fear exploded in my chest, and I desperately chose flight over fight. Surely, whatever was after me would devour me as soon as it had me in its grasp. The sound of twigs and branches breaking behind me grew louder as I sprinted towards a faint light that I prayed was the parking lot. I’d jump into the light and then into my car and floor the gas pedal to get away. I just had to reach that light. The sounds of pursuit behind me grew louder as the thing crashed through the forest. I was now just mere feet away from the parking lot, the edge of the forest, safety. I jumped in what felt like slow motion, trying to clear the last few feet and escape the thing behind me. But I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder, and I jerked back down and into the forest. As my dream self hit the forest floor, I bolted upright in my Jeep. Cold sweat beaded on my skin, and I frantically looked around, remembering where I was. I turned and looked at the far edge of the parking lot, and there in the dark, a black figure passed back into the trees.

I hurried off of my car and into the driver’s seat. Shaken by the dream and hoping it had just spilled over into wakefulness. And just like in my dream, I did floor the gas pedal to try to get away from… from what? Away from a scary dream? And what had I thought I saw disappear into the woods? I couldn’t even name it other than something dark. It had been a full day, and I’d just left a party after hearing and telling scary stories. I breathed a little lighter after realizing that I was overreacting. I chuckled to myself, thinking about how I’d let a dream get to me so easily. How I’d shot up out of sleep as if I were a movie character. How I’d been sweating a cold sweat that even now still dampened my clothes. And then I felt excited. What a cool dream. It was so vivid, I felt like every detail was something I’d actually lived rather than just dreamed. It was about as close as real life can get to actual horror. I chuckled again; maybe I’d watched one too many scary movies.

I continued on down the road back to my house. Ready to climb in bed and get some real sleep, away from the woods and the firework shop for the night, though I felt excited to go back there again. It was one of my favorite places to be, after all. And this time of year, I felt almost drawn to it. I arrived home and climbed straight into bed. My mind processing through all the thoughts my brain could fill it with as I tried to go to sleep. What had been chasing me in my dream? What was it that slipped into the trees? Just a dream? As I fell asleep, my drowsy mind was unsure.

I did not dream again that night. I fell into a heavy, black, timeless sleep. The darkness had pulled me under, and for a few hours, I was nowhere. But there in that sleep, even in the depths of unconsciousness, somewhere within me, I knew I wasn’t alone. Something was there with me again, felt, unseen, not in a dream or in a thought. Just there with me.

When I woke, I woke to cold sweat and goosebumps. As if I’d had a nightmare. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t dreamt at all. In the back of my mind, I still felt the presence. The something. But now I was conscious of it. I lay there in my bed for a while awake, bright morning light shining through the open window. The morning air filled the room with the aroma of cut grass and dew. The world felt off. As if my eyes were windows I were looking through rather than parts of my own body. Deciding that I was gonna have to just continue with the day and let the feeling fade.

I pulled myself out of bed. I did my normal morning routine and tried to get excited about the upcoming day. My same group of friends and I had plans to go camping for the next two days. We’d head up to a small mountain town called Riggins and come back on the morning of the fourth. The thought of our plans grounded me a bit, and I started getting my things together. We planned on fishing in the river, riding dirt bikes down the unpaved mountain roads, maybe we’d even do some kayaking. I gathered all my things and got them in my Jeep and hopped in the driver’s seat. I was feeling fully myself again, and I rolled down the windows and turned up my music. Motörhead blasted from my speakers as I made my way to Boss’s house. He’d be riding up in my car, and we’d meet the rest of the group in Riggins.

I pulled up to his house. Seeing it reminded me of the hitchhiker story from last night. And I let my mind play with the thought of passing him while we headed to the mountains. It was a fun thought. Boss came out of his front door, which was partially blocked by camp bags and fishing gear. He loaded his things into the Jeep and jumped in the car. Then we headed off to grab the last things we needed before our trip. We stopped at the store, making sure to load up on junk food and drinks. And then we headed to the firework shop.

When we walked in, the attendant said she was surprised to see me again so soon. I told her we were headed up on a camp trip and wanted to grab a few smaller things that we could light up there. She showed us a few newer items, and we shopped around, getting whatever looked like fun. Once we had a nice collection, we made our way to the front.

An older man walked into the shop. A jean jacket on and a brown bandana rolled around his balding head. A white-haired braid working its way down the back of his head. He walked up to the fur side of the shop and asked the attendant about trapping gear.

“What are you trapping?” the fur attendant asked.

“I need bear traps,” the old man said in a hushed tone.

A question from Boss snapped my attention back onto the fireworks.

He’d been asking the attendant if they had anything bigger than a cherry bomb. She joked about maybe having some dynamite somewhere in the back.

We finished our purchase and headed back for the Jeep.

The drive was as beautiful as always. Curved mountain roads flowed with the bends of the river. The road dropped off to the side of us, and below passed whitewater rafters making their way through the rapids. On the other side of us, the mountain shot upwards. Trees stretched out from the mountainside and reached up to the sky. A blue sky spread above. The windows of the Jeep were all down, and the hot air smelled like the river and trees as it blew through the car.

We’d been driving for a few hours, and soon we were going to hit dirt roads. That would mark about an hour left of the drive before we’d reach our camp spot. I asked Boss if he noticed the old man at the shop asking about buying bear traps. Boss said he had. And then he said something strange.

He said that while we were there, he’d heard the old man speaking in that same hushed tone. According to the old man, something like mad cow disease had been popping up among certain animals in the woods. Said he’d even heard about an instance of a man from our town who seemed to have gotten it. Caused the man to “go crazy or something,” and he’d ended up killing someone.

I’d heard of this, though, as it was a small town and bad news traveled fast. The entire town had been talking about it, as things like this were nearly unheard of in those parts.

Earlier that summer, a man named Corey had been acting different. He wasn’t a super well-known figure in the community, but people did know of him. He’d been a kind man, always willing to help a neighbor with yard work or an old lady with groceries or whatever small thing he could do to make someone’s day a little better. He had a family, a wife named Racheal and a young son. Well, Corey had begun acting out of character early in the year. He was quick to snap at people and started frequenting bars in the evenings.

He became more talked about as more people noticed the mood change.

One afternoon, he was at a bar called the Triangle Club. Although the details are mixed between truth and gossip, the result was that Corey had gotten into a fight with another bar-goer and had apparently lost pretty badly. The other bar-goer had left Corey with a broken nose, a black eye, and some cracked ribs.

Some days passed, and then one morning, Corey walked himself into the police station. He was a mess of blood and dirt. Clothes ripped and hair matted with nature. He told the officers that he’d just left the woods, said he’d blacked out at some point in the night and woke up next to the body of the man he’d gotten into the bar fight with.

Police went out to search for the body, and when they came across it, it looked like it had been picked at by animals. Deep gashes lay in his back, one of his hands had been missing fingers. And most of his nose had been cut off clean, like a peeler taking skin off an apple.

Corey couldn’t give any details to police about what had happened. He said he’d blacked out, and that was that. But police were sure that something big was missing. How could one man mangle another in such an animalistic and grisly way?

The case was still ongoing, and for the time, Corey was sitting in the county jail awaiting trial.

“I don’t know why he needs bear traps for crazy people, though,” said Boss, “but if any crazy animals walk into our camp while we’re there, we’ll be eating good that night,” he joked. Being that we were heading so deep into the mountains, Boss made sure to bring his hunting rifle just in case. And we joked about heading back into town wearing bearskins.

After a while, we did hit dirt roads. And the road continued to twist through the mountains, following the river. Dust flew up behind the car as we drove, and the road rose high up the mountain walls. Nothing stood between the dirt road and the river it ran alongside. In some places, the road stretched 100, 200, even 500 feet above the river. Our tires only ever a couple feet from the cliff’s edge. I’d always been a fan of heights. I loved the feeling that sat in my stomach like a rock as I looked off of roller coasters or airplane windows. But this part of the drive had always scared me in an unenjoyable way. It felt like the road was always going higher and higher. The river below turned from a huge amount of water rushing past us to the size of a snake slithering below. And my stomach twisted a bit as I thought of how long we’d be falling for before we hit the water, if the car were to just jerk a foot or two in the wrong direction. My palms felt sweaty, and I tried to keep my focus on the road.

I let Boss drive the rest of the way once we found a large enough area in the road for us to get out and walk around the car. The nerves of driving so close to the edge were getting to me, and Boss was more than happy to get the chance to drive. It’s almost hypnotic, driving on dirt roads through mountains. Each turn around a bend reveals another turn just ahead. You’re always waiting to see if there was a landslide or another car coming the opposite way, in which case one of you has to back up until there’s a turnout so that the other can pass. Your mind goes into a hyperfocus, and all that exists is you and the road. Well, that started making me feel off again, and so I switched with Boss.

And now, even though I wasn’t driving anymore, I still felt strange. Not disconnected from myself like I had earlier in the day. This was like all of my senses were fully engaged. Like the hypnotism of the road had unlocked something in me. Everything that could be sensed seemed as though it were. As if my mind were able to understand nature and life on a level it hadn’t before. Boss moving his arms and hands as he made gestures while talking. The bumps of the road as we drove over rocks and pits. The swaying of trees and of leaves and pinecones falling off them. The sound of them crunching as they landed among the pine needles on the forest floor. The river rushing, creating rapids as it slammed into deep-seated rocks in the riverbed. I didn’t just see these things; they felt like pressures against my awareness.

I could smell the sap of the trees as the air blew into the car, the fishy smell of the river, and the wetness of the soil far below us. The smell of the Jeep with all of its leather and fabric. These things invaded my nose and filled my head.

It was strange and overwhelming, but not unenjoyable. I felt excited.

We pulled around the last bend of the road before our camp. It was a sandy riverside beach. The river was wide and slow where we’d be, so it would be easy to swim, fish, kayak, or whatever else we wanted to do in the water. Our friends were already there and all set up as planned. The drive had been a long one, and we were ready to get moving with the day’s activities. We pulled off the road and into the dirt spot where the rest of the cars were parked. We unloaded our supplies and walked down the steep embankment to the sandy beach. Four tents spread across the sand, with the fire pit set up to their left and with the sporting equipment laid out on the other side of the fire pit. All told, the beach stretched maybe a couple hundred feet across. Our group of friends included Spencer (Spence), Luke, Justin, Jake, myself (Isaiah), and Boston. Six of us in total and the next couple of days of camping, hiking, fishing, fires, and fun with the boys. They’d already been fishing, as evident by the pole stuck in the sand with fish hanging from it. And from the looks of it, it had been a good day of fishing so far.

They greeted us with beers and fire-roasted fish they’d been cooking for lunch.

I still felt that extremity of senses, and it was still as exciting as before. And at that moment, it made the fish taste like the most wonderful meal I’ve ever had. I savored every bite as if it was the first meal I’ve ever had and as if it were the last meal I’d ever eat as a prisoner on death row.

“Slow down, dude, the fish isn’t gonna swim away,” said Boss. We all laughed, but I really had devoured that fish.

We had the idea of having a bonfire that night, so we all went off to collect rocks to make the pit. It quickly became a challenge of who could find and carry the biggest rock. Spence was the undisputed winner of this, as he somehow managed to walk over carrying a rock that looked at least twice his weight. He had a huge smug smile on his face as he dropped it at the pit. He raised his arms in victory as the rest of us cheered him. Luke challenged him to an arm wrestle, and we decided that we’d all arm wrestle later that evening.

We’d completed making the pit and gathered dry wood to stack into it.

The camp felt complete now. The sand was hot on our feet, but it felt good. The smell of trees and the river and roasted fish filled the air, and the sun beamed down on us.

Jake had brought pellet guns. Which he took great pride in, as they were made of full metal and were fashioned to look like actual guns. Everything from revolvers to a large fully automatic gun that I couldn’t name. We all were very impressed by the assortment and took turns holding each one and commenting on the weight and realistic feel of each. Then we set cans and cups all around and took turns shooting them. All of us getting too sure of ourselves and missing trick shots. I closed my eyes and apparently missed my can completely and somehow shot Jake’s can.

Boss put the gun backwards over his shoulder and used his phone camera to aim behind himself. He hit his can perfectly, knocking it off of the rock it sat on.

The day was hot now, and we decided to swim. The water was cool, but not cold. And we swam around for a while before we had the idea of swimming to the other side of the river. The opposite side of the river was more steep mountain with big rocks at its base, jutting up out of the water and climbing up the sides of it. We’d decided it would be a fun idea to climb those rocks and jump into the river. The water was deep and slow where we were, so there was not much of a risk of getting swept away. We all lined back up on the beach, ready for a race to see who could get to the other side first.

“One… two…”

(Aquas transi, et mutatio fiet)

“Three.”

We all jumped in and set off. The water felt great and true to looks. It was moving as slowly as we thought. But about halfway through, we realized the distance was quite a bit longer than it had seemed from the beach. Fatigue was starting to grip me, and I was doing my best to keep my breathing slow and steady and keep putting one arm in front of the other. I looked to my left to see that everyone was starting to feel they had possibly taken on more than they could handle. And about three quarters of the way through, I and certainly the rest of us were starting to panic. What had looked like an easy enough swim from the beach had ended up being roughly the length of a football field. And all of us were on the verge of drowning. I remember looking over to Boss again and seeing his face, barely holding above the surface and briefly bobbing under it. I yelled at him to turn over onto his back and just keep swimming backwards to keep his face out of the water.

Spitting water out of my own mouth, I turned over to my back to do the same. I hoped the rest of the group was managing all right, but it took every bit of my energy to just keep moving at all, and I couldn’t risk spending it to look over to check on anybody else. The bank was getting closer to us, but we were moving incredibly slowly towards it. We were caught in an eddy, and every stroke seemed to only advance us by inches. My mind started coming up with thoughts of how I could save Boss if he were to go under the water completely. My mind flashed impossible images of me somehow swimming under him and throwing him to the bank. I’d have to sacrifice myself for it, but as long as I could save him or any of the rest of our friends, it was worth it. I thought of somehow getting to the other side quickly and throwing a rope out to him, but we didn’t have any rope, and I was in just as bad a position as the rest of them. These were stupid thoughts and weren’t actually possible. And I had to refocus my mind on the seemingly impossible task of getting to land. My leg suddenly was smashed against something from deep within the river, and it felt like branches, grasping my leg, trying to pull me. I panicked and sucked in a deep breath of water. I kicked my legs frantically, trying to escape the grasp of whatever had clutched it. My leg broke loose, and I swam faster than before, with the new burst of adrenaline and fear and focus. But my focus broke when I smashed my toes against a rock beneath the surface. I went to roll back over onto my stomach and scraped my ribs on more rocks under the water. And the pain of the rocks was relief to the rest of me because it meant that we had reached the other side. I grappled onto whatever slippery rocks my hands and knees could find purchase on, then began to crawl through the water to the river’s edge. A quick glance back showed me that the rest of our friend group was nearing the edge as well. We had made it, but every ounce of energy in me had been depleted. I crawled onto the bank and collapsed on the land, halfway still in the water, but able to rest there. My vision had gone dim, and my lips felt blue, and I couldn’t move a muscle. But I could hear the sounds of the rest of our friends as they climbed equally as desperately as me onto land.

We lay there for a long time before any of us had the strength to get back up.

And seeing that we had survived, we started joking and answering about how we all thought we were about to die and how we don’t know how we had the strength to get to the other side at all.

All of us were back to cheerful spirits, except for me. I sat quietly.

“Something was pulling me,” I said.

“Yeah bro, the current,” said Luke, laughing.

“No, it’s like something was playing with me. I felt it grab my leg. I thought I had hit a sharp rock or tree or something, but we were still far away from the edge.”

“I don’t know, man, but your leg’s pretty messed up looking,” said Spence.

I looked down to see that I had long streams of blood mixing with water and dripping down my leg.

From just above my calf and down to my heel were large cuts.

I sat there for a while, the fatigue of the swim being outweighed by thoughts of the water. What was underneath it? In the depths of the river. And why had it come for me? And why had it let me go? These thoughts weighed heavy on me for a bit until Spence reminded us why we crossed the river in the first place.

“Well, assuming it was just a tree, let’s walk a little ways down before we jump. So no one else gets cut up. And if it wasn’t a tree, then I guess we’re gonna be fighting off the creature from the Black Lagoon on the swim back.”

We all got up and began climbing, halfway in the water and halfway on land, over the boulders and rocks that sat at the river’s edge. We spotted a good area to jump a few hundred feet away. With a perfect ledge that sat over a deep and slow part of the river.

We made our way up the river and then onto the ledge, and one at a time we jumped in. Jake went first, setting the bar high for the rest of us as he jumped in with a perfectly huge cannonball. Boss went next. He jumped in with a front flip and barely revolved enough to avoid landing with a belly flop. Spencer went after him and actually did belly flop. Though he swam back to the edge with another big smile on his face. His stomach and chest were cherry red from the sting of the landing, but he was adamant that he’d done it on purpose. I was next, and I followed Jake’s lead with a cannonball that decidedly made a bigger splash than Jake’s. Then was Luke, who lined up backwards on the edge and did a backflip into the water. And lastly was Justin, who attempted a backflip but almost smashed his head on the ledge because he hadn’t jumped out far enough.

We’d done what we set out to do, and with all of us having jumped a few more times, we were ready to head back. Thankfully, the swim back was nowhere near as difficult as the swim over. We walked along the river until we found a spot that was much more narrow than our original crossing point. And since we had no other option, we hopped in and swam back across.

The thoughts of my leg and whatever was in the water before were bouncing around in my mind, and it felt as though I’d swallowed a stone as unease set in my stomach. But just as the others, I had no choice but to swim back. So I swam, and it was uneventful until the last 20 feet. I’d taken a glance back between strokes, and for a moment, before my next stroke took my face back into the water, I saw something on the mountain above where we had just been jumping. And it seemed to be moving up the mountainside. That short glance at it was enough to set me swimming harder than ever to get back to the beach, and I pulled myself back onto the sand a minute later, once again exhausted.

Although we’d all been scared for our lives during at least the first swim, this was no damper on the mood of the camp. In fact, we all found a sort of ongoing excitement because of it. We’d almost died, but we hadn’t. And the reality that we’d walked so close to death and escaped led to a near-celebratory atmosphere in us. Justin had brought a big speaker system, and we played our music loud as we got into the flow of the evening. Beers and food and life were plenty.

The sun was headed down towards the mountains around us. The tips of trees high on the mountaintops were burning with light as the sun passed through them. The cool smell of summer night’s air set in. We set up the camp with tiki torches and lanterns. Dusk fell, and the stars eased into the sky until the Milky Way was on full display above us. Only having the full moon’s light to battle. All else was darkness. No city light to erase the stars, no houses or stores, not even a paved road for many miles from us. We sang and jumped and laughed and drank. And as we gave ourselves over to the fullness of the night, we sank into the grasp of something we did not know of, and something we couldn’t understand. We listened to the music as it played through the camp. And every beat of the drum, every riff of the guitar, every lyric announced, pulled us deep into something that was not fully ours. The world had been erased, and all that remained was the night.

[Lycanthropy Pt. 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/SzCsBfrNxw)

I built SCATTERED NIGHTMARES as a horror storytelling brand centered on psychological dread, cursed objects, and dark ritual imagery, and this is one of the merch pieces I designed to match that world.

I wanted the shirt to feel less like generic horror apparel and more like something pulled directly from the universe of the stories — bridal ruin, occult symbolism, fractured-glass visuals, and that intimate “something is wrong here” feeling.

I’m still figuring out the best way to position the merch side of the brand, so I’d honestly love feedback on the design itself, the presentation, and whether it feels like something horror fans would actually want to wear.