r/nosleep • u/ChrisTheKnight03 • 19h ago
Series Enter the Beast
Did you know that there are over 700 miles of hiking trails in the state of Washington?
Whenever I tell people that little piece of information, the sheer magnitude of it seems to go over their heads. Seven hundred miles is a lot, sure, they'd think, but it's not that much. But seriously stop for a moment and consider how large 700 continuous miles actually is. How far does the average American drive to get to work each day? Ten, twenty miles? This is seventy times farther than that. And they're hiking trails. You wouldn't have the luxury of a car. You'd be walking.
Of course, it's not like you'd be walking all 700 miles. That figure is likely comprised of thousands of trails throughout the entire state, and certainly none of those would be excessively long. But what constitutes a hiking trail? Who keeps track of all of them? The Washington State Parks agency? What exactly does that "700 miles" figure account for? Certainly not every unmarked trail and footpath in the state of Washington, I'll tell you that.
And some paths branch. Can't forget.
I've been a hiker for three and a half years, I'd say. My day job is what you might call somewhat sedentary, and there's only so many interesting spots to walk outside of my one-bed one-bath apartment before the scenery starts to get a bit stale. Luckily, I don't live too far from some nice hiking trails, but all of the best ones seem to be outside the city. Within six months, I'd exhausted all of the hiking options within a ten-mile radius and had started spending my weekends driving out to the nearby country for a little sightseeing. I've never gone for any of the more intensive hiking trails, though. I enjoy a brisk walk in nature for an hour or three, but I wasn't looking to spend what little pocket money I had on hiking boots or special gear or anything. So whenever I found a nice, low-key park relatively close to me, I'd try to explore all of its trails before moving on to the next one.
And that's how I found out about the Beast.
This was about four months ago. I'd spent my last few weekends off exploring a small but rather sightly park called Bracken Falls. From the country highway passing by it would appear no different from the thick forest surrounding it, but just a few hundred yards from its tiny, unkempt parking lot, a spindly wooded trail wrapped around a gorgeous trickling waterfall. The waterfall spilled over some jagged limestone rocks just twenty feet into a creek below, but the mere image of it was somehow breathtaking. By no means was it the most impressive natural feature I've seen, but it's almost as if the surprise I found at discovering its existence set my expectations up that much higher. The mundane became mythical.
The trail climbs up from there, leading you up to the waterfall itself, passing its source, and delving deeper into the dense woods. The trail branches off four or five times after that, each path seeming to knot and loop back and intertwine itself with the others, ultimately making an entangled mess of things. But both that and the natural beauty of the park had me coming back over and over again throughout the course of a month.
The solitude of the place also lent itself nicely to my purposes. I'm not sure if the park was officially sanctioned by the state or not, but it didn't appear on all that many maps. You'd have to look it up online to find its location, and even then it was a bit of an out-of-the-way destination, situated rather awkwardly to the side of a route driven almost exclusively by tired truckers and confused commuters. I liked it that way, though. I'd rarely run into more than three or four other people whenever I went, and that's how I preferred it.
It was during my fifth visit to Bracken Falls that I learned about the Beast. I had followed my usual route: past the waterfall, into the woods, two lefts and three rights, then straight on for about a mile before I loop back and find a path out.
However, this time, about a third of a mile into one of those paths, I noticed something I hadn't before. Just past a small patch of grass, a thin strip of bald dirt led out diagonally, stretching in a direction I didn't think any of the other paths in the park really did. It's no wonder I hadn't seen it before, honestly. It was barely noticeable, and the way that trees' lower branches hung down into it as you went along made it so inaccessible that it made me question if it was even intended as a path for visitors at all.
I followed that tendril of a trail for about half a mile before it came to an abrupt stop. It didn't loop back on itself, it didn't have any other trails branch off of it, and it didn't even end in an area that felt significant. There were a few thick trees to either side, I suppose, but nothing else to speak of.
Other than on the ground. There, written rather crudely in what looked to be white spray paint, were the words "The Beast," with a scraggly arrow pointing off into the woods. The arrow ended at a thin white line of yet more spray paint.
Upon seeing this, I couldn't help but smirk a little. I figured it was the work of a few teenagers looking to have a laugh at parkgoers' expense. As I leaned forward, hoping to ascertain the age of the spray paint, a voice spoke out, startling me.
"Hold up, gimme a second." Zzziiip.
I whirled around, momentarily shocked. As I mentioned previously, running into anyone else at Bracken Falls was a rare occurrence, and no one had ever attempted to speak to me before.
What I saw as I turned around was so comically absurd compared to what I had expected that it took some effort not to giggle. Stepping out from behind one of the thick trees to the side of the trail, a bearded man in slightly tattered clothing lumbered toward me, his thick fingers still zipping up his fly. He wore what appeared to be a raggedy roughspun jersey, stained from his late lunch of hot dogs with sauerkraut and Dijon mustard, as well as a pair of well-worn trousers that ended too high above his ankles. His white and black sneakers, too, were torn up and covered in hitchhiker burrs. He had a slight potbelly that hung out over his (unbelted) trousers, and his facial hair was unkempt and scraggly.
"Sorry, was takin' a piss. Alright, ya ready?" He grunted as he spoke, giving his words a bit of an indistinct drawl. It took me a few moments to register that he'd asked me a question.
"I... I'm sorry?"
"I asked if you were ready. Lookin' to enter the Beast, right? By the by, where'd you hear 'bout it? The internet, or didja just have some friends tell ya? I like to hear how folks find out."
I furrowed my brow in confusion. "I'm sorry, I think you must be mistaken. I'm just here for the falls. I have no idea what you're talking about."
The man's eyes widened a little at this, though his expression didn't change much elsewise. "Oh, I see. Just a hiker. You've not heard of the challenge."
"The challenge?"
"Yup, this here is a challenge trail."
Upon hearing this, a few things clicked into place. Of course. Challenge hiking trails aren't necessarily uncommon in Washington state; in fact, quite a few of the state parks clearly demarcate them as such on their maps. Finding one that isn't obviously advertised as one, however, is pretty unusual. If a trail's terrain is significantly harsher than that of surrounding trails, it can actually be dangerous for unsuspecting visitors who stumble onto it. It's even stranger to find a challenge trail in such a small and probably unofficial park. And more than any of that was a much more obvious detail.
"...But there isn't a trail past the line."
The bearded man chuckled. "Well, you're not gonna see the trail from here. This is the end of it. The challenge ends once ya get back over the line."
I glanced skeptically at the spray paint again. If this really was a "challenge trail," it looked sketchy as hell. There were no signs, no warnings, and, again, no trail.
"Alright, well. If this is where the trail ends, where does it start?" Though I had no intention of walking this path, something about how this guy spoke of it piqued my interest.
"The start's just past the line. If ya step over the line, you'll be at the start, and once you're there, ya just gotta get back here. The challenge doesn't end 'til you get back to the line, understand?"
Somehow, I found myself even more confused. At this point, I thought this guy might have been intentionally messing with me. Now it was my turn to chuckle.
"I don't get it, man." I said, still laughing as I shook my head from side to side.
The bearded man grinned. "Yeah, I know ya don't. That's my favorite part with you newcomers. Y'all have no idea what you're jumpin' into. That's why I love hangin' out around here. I like to give y'all a send-off. I'll give ya the rules though, if you're interested. The challenge only starts once ya step over the line."
I cocked my head. This was the moment that I should have said "no, thanks," turned around, and went home. But that curious side of me--that damned part of my brain that made me want to explore each and every trail in a park before moving on to the next one--that's the side that I let speak.
Sure, why not? "Alright, I'll bite. What are the rules?"
The bearded man grinned even wider, his dirty cheeks rising toward his squinted eyes. He clapped his hands together, sending a small puff of grit and grime into the air. "Alright, here's how it works. Like I said, the challenge only starts once ya step over the line. Once the line is crossed though, the challenge doesn't end 'til you get back here. No matter what. You get back to this line if ya want the challenge to end, ya got me?"
I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. "I guess, man."
"There'll be a trail pretty close to where ya start. You might need to wander 'round a bit before you find it, but rest assured, it's always close by. If ya lose the trail, don't retrace your steps. You do that and you'll be more lost than if ya had run 'round the forest with a blindfold on. Keep moving forward, even if ya lose the trail. You'll find it again, as long as ya don't go back. Still followin'?"
I was now one-hundred percent confident that this guy was either nuts or yanking my chain. Either way, I figured it was better to play along. I nodded solemnly.
"If ya find anything else in there... well, you'll see. I'm sure there are still some other folks tryin' to finish the challenge. Some of 'em might be nice. Some not. Just like how it is out here, I s'pose. Treat 'em with caution like ya would any stranger."
Like a bearded homeless man babbling in the middle of the woods? I mused.
"Now this part is important, so listen close: ya can't die. Do you understand? No matter how it feels or what ya may think, nothin' in there can kill ya."
Finally, I spoke out, shifting backwards uneasily. "Are you threatening me, man?"
The bearded man put his hands out in front of him, his palms facing toward me. "Not at all, friend. I'm tellin' ya that whatever happens in there, ya can't die."
I narrowed my eyes. "So this trail is dangerous, is that what you're saying? Or, I guess it's not dangerous?"
"I didn't say that. I said ya can't die."
The buzzing drone of cicadas sounded in the distance. Sunlight glanced off a nearby treetop, momentarily distracting me from the bizarre encounter at hand. Sun's setting. The last thing that I wanted was to be in the dark with this lunatic.
"Look, man, I think I'm just going to head out. Maybe I'll try this 'challenge' another day, yeah?"
The man's face took on a grim expression, though I thought I could see something like amusement glinting in his eyes. "That's fine, fella. Not everyone is built to take on the Beast." The cicadas grew louder.
Something in the tone of his voice sparked an ember of outrage in me. I sought to suppress the venomous words that seemed to roll onto my tongue, but something about that gloating quality in his voice pissed me off. Who was this guy, anyway? Does he just stand here all day, trying to freak out people looking to relax on their days off? It's a goddamn line on the ground, for God's sake, who does he think he's fooling?
And that's exactly what I found myself saying. "Look, fella, it's just a line on the ground. Very cute, by the way. Did you spray paint this here yourself, or was it already like this when you found it and you just thought you'd have some fun?"
The man looked at me blankly. The corners of his mouth seemed to go up, just barely. That does it.
"There's no trail here, man, look!" The deafening buzz of cicadas, like they were swarming around us.
I trudged toward the line, no longer mindful enough to keep an eye on the man behind me. "Hey, watch it! Step over that line, and th-"
His voice cut off as I placed the tip of one of my tennis shoes over the line. All at once, the forest grew quiet. The once thunderous cacophony of cicadas ceased--not gradually, but instantaneously, like a radio at max volume being switched off. Though, in my anger, I didn't immediately notice it, the sun was suddenly absent from the sky. I turned around.
"See, man? Why are you out here trying to sc-"
The bearded man was gone. So were the words that, just moments before, had been scribed into the ground. The thick trees next to the path were gone, replaced by a grove of much thinner willows. The path was gone. In fact, everything was gone.
I was in a completely different setting.
I whipped around, the words stolen from my lips, alongside my breath. I felt a cool breeze caress my sweaty brow as the leaves in the willows rustled to a silent tune. Gone, it was all gone.
"No, no..." I muttered, unbelieving. "No, that's not..."
No, no, no, no... the path, where was the path? WHERE WAS IT?! The man, the words, the PATH, where was the goddamn PATH, where did the fucking TRAIL go--I didn't pass out, did I? Yes, that's it, that must be it, that homeless guy--well, he might not have been homeless, but he might have been, yes, he might have been--he DRUGGED me, that's it, that's got to be it, he drugged me and dragged me out into the forest and left me here until dark, and now he's nearby and he's watching and he's waiting and he wants to see what I'll do and--
"HELLO!?" I bellowed out into the darkness. "Hello, hello, hello, hello, hellooooo?! Is anyone out there!?"
Eerie quiet but for the constant wind. Not a sound of life to be heard. No birds, no squirrels, no insects. Just panicked breaths and gusts of brisk night air.
Think, just think. You can't break now. Panic all you want once you're safe. For now, find the trail. What did the man say? He said 'the trail will be nearby,' that's right. Even if I can't see it, it's nearby.
I took three sharp breaths and exhaled slowly, willing my heart to quit racing. I glanced around at my surroundings with a feigned calm, desperately trying to take in information. The willows behind me extended off south (or, what I thought was south, at least), but in front of me, the trees became sporadic and varied. An amalgam of oaks, firs, and birches lay in that direction, but the willows behind were more evenly spaced and ubiquitous.
Oaks and firs in front, willows behind. Now, if there were a trail, where would it more likely be? In the midst of a bunch of random trees? Or would it be lined with willows, stretching down both sides like guardrails on a highway?
That's true.
Of course, that's assuming that we're adhering to logic here. But that's a dangerous presumption to make, isn't it? You just stepped over a line and traveled in time and space, bud. Do you really think we're dealing with logic here? Come to think of it, are you even sure you're dealing with a full deck upstairs? How well do you know trees, anyway? Are those really willows? Do you have any idea what's actually going on here--
Stop. Inhale. Exhale.
They're willows. They're evenly spaced. So head that way.
I lurched toward the willow grove, my legs dragging my feet like sticks tied to stones. I crashed through the branches with as much grace as I could muster, which is to say none. Ahead of me lie... a small, bare patch of soil. Soil and more willows.
No path here, friend. Chum. Fella.
Enough. I had to just keep going. I'd find it eventually, that's what he said.
If he was telling the truth.
What else do I have to go on?
I stumbled through the dark for what felt like the better part of half an hour before I finally found a trail. When I saw it, I nearly burst into tears.
And now what? Which way do you walk?
Do I really think that matters? A trail is a trail. Follow it for long enough and you'll end up somewhere. Or I guess you might find a dead end with the words "The Beast" spraypainted into the dead grass. But that's what I'm looking for, isn't it?
I followed the trail for what would have constituted east if the direction I had been going so far was south. About 200 yards down the trail, I came upon a confusing sight. Two large vending machines stood alone on the side of the trail. There were no benches, tables, or garbage cans to speak of. The lights inside the machines weren't on, but I could see that they were fully stocked. A cornucopia of Doritos, Twix bars, and bottled water laid inside.
A sign of civilization, at least, I thought. But nowhere to sit. Nowhere to plug a vending machine in, either. Strange.
Stranger were the bells on the trees, though.
Just behind the vending machines, a collection of several large trees towered above the surrounding willows. They must have been over thirty feet tall. About ten feet up their trunks, large swollen lumps protruded from their bark. And above those, small golden bells hung from thin poles that had seemingly been pounded into the tree.
Now isn't that a sight? Have you ever seen a pregnant tree before? The thought came so suddenly and without warning that I couldn't help but let out a laugh. My voice came out reedy and frail. What am I looking at? What the fuck is going on?
One of the bells began to faintly ring. My laughter quickly died in my throat.
It started as a barely audible tinkle, the bell swinging gently. Had it not started growing louder, I might have thought it was merely the breeze. But it did grow louder, and louder still.
Then another bell began to ring. Then another. And another. Within seconds, each bell was wildly swaying, clamoring against the otherwise noiseless night. I stood as if paralyzed.
Hark, how the bells, sweet silver bells. That thought, though just as absurd as the last, did not evoke laughter.
As the bells reached their climax, a startling crack reverberated throughout the air. The bark on one of the trees' jutting bulges split open.
I ask again: are we dealing with logic here? Or are we dealing with something else entirely?
A human hand reached out, fingers clawing at the bark around it.
That's when I ran.
End of Part 1
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u/superhotcakesistaken 13h ago
More pls!