I did it. I went out there again. It was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t stand the way people have been treating me. Everybody seems to think I had some sort of mental breakdown. They acted like I couldn’t be trusted on my own for too long. They kept showing up with casseroles and baskets of fruit, strategically timed so they just happened to drop by the second I’d be alone for a while. I know they meant well, but I couldn’t stand it.
It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t some hallucination. It was real, it happened and that means it’s out there.
When I came back the first time I was so confused I started to question my own sanity. Every time I closed my eyes I tried to remember every feeling, every sound, every smell.. to try and come up with a logical explanation. Perhaps the growling was just the wind gushing through the trees? Perhaps the ground seemed to be shaking because large branches were being torn off by a storm. Perhaps.. But none of the rationalizations I tried to come up with felt right. That was NOT what happened.
There was something out there. Something that growled and chased us so far into the forest we almost couldn’t find our way back. I needed to figure it out. I needed to get tangible proof.
It happened a few weeks after my first.. encounter, for lack of a better word. I couldn’t sleep despite the pills my doctor prescribed me. I don’t know if you ever had to take medication to fall asleep, but there is nothing worse than not falling asleep after chemically inducing it. It feels like you keep fainting, only to violently jolt awake a few seconds later. Dreams and reality merge into one another. It’s feverish.
It was very early, my husband and Schnitzel were still fast asleep but I couldn’t spend another second in bed. Schnitzel has this funny thing he does where, if you move a little too much, or you accidentally brush your foot against her snout in the middle of the night, he lets out this annoyed sigh, turns around, and promptly plunks down onto her blanket. It’s all very theatrical. Not wanting to cause him any more inconvenience, I got up and made myself some tea.
A little later, I found myself standing on the porch, staring at the fog that once again gathered around the very top of the canopy.
Perhaps if I wasn’t so sleep-deprived, unconsciously fighting against my medication, I might have been able to make a more logical decision. Although, I think I would have gone regardless. The fact that nobody believed me and I couldn’t prove anything had been driving me crazy.
I calmly put on my hiking shoes. Like I was getting ready for my usual walk. I knew what I was walking into, but somehow I wasn’t panicked. I foolishly felt ready.
In the last couple of weeks, I devised a plan: Without my husband knowing, I filled one of our spare hiking backpacks with all the essentials I thought I would need, should the opportunity for this expedition present itself. We sometimes document our more scenic routes by mounting our cell phones on the straps of our backpacks. So I attached my phone, making sure it was fully charged. So this time I was ready, I thought.
At the end of the garden, while holding the little wooden gate, I looked back one more time towards the house. Everything was quiet. I left the porch light on, just in case I needed it to be my beacon once again. The house and everybody in it were still sleeping as I made my way onto the trail.
It was just before dawn. You didn’t need a flashlight to see where you were going but you couldn’t quite make out all the contours of your surroundings yet either. ‘The perfect time to go monster hunting’, I thought to myself with an eery calmness. It didn’t feel real. More like I was about to watch a scary movie. In the sense that I was fully aware I was potentially going to be seeing some horrendous things, but at the same time, if it became too much, I would be able to just turn off the TV.
I know that sounds delusional. Looking back, I can’t comprehend the state I was in either. I’m tempted to blame it on sleep deprivation. Or maybe the medication was inhibiting my natural fight-or-flight response. Either way, I trumped on, following the trail precisely as I did the first time. I kept looking up at the canopy, waiting for the thick layer of fog to descend upon me, bringing along whatever horrors lived within.
About an hour into the trail, the mist started to come down. Just like it did when Schnitzel and I got caught in it last time.
I checked if my phone was still recording, it was. My breath started to get heavier as the mist was slowly filling my lungs. The kitchen knife I decided to take with me at the last second was firmly clutched in my fist. It gave me a tiny bit of confidence, albeit false.
For a moment I thought I’d be alright if push came to shove and I had to fight my way out of an encounter with the creature. That moment swiftly passed when I heard the thundering sound of a growl nearby. That familiar jolt of anxiety shot its way up my brain, leaving me paralyzed for a brief moment. ‘Move’, I said to myself as I had to consciously make every muscle in my body respond to my brain. ‘MOVE!’, as I yelled it out loud this time, my legs started to shakingly repel themselves forward.
My plan, if you can call it that, was to get to the same spot underneath the willow tree that hid me and Schnitzel the first time. From there I was going to hold up the camera and peek it through the branches, hoping it would register whatever was after me. It wasn’t so much a masterplan as it was a desperate presumption I’d be somewhat safe in that ditch.
As I was bolting toward my goal, the trees were being expelled from the ground with great force. Breathing was difficult, but having been through it once before, I somehow prevented myself from hyperventilating and passing out. The growling grew louder and the ground shook harder with each step the creature took. At least I could confirm, this was no fucking weather phenomenon. This was flesh, blood, claws and teeth.
I was just about able to see the contours of the protruding branches of the willow tree when I felt a dull ache in my side. Before I could process what it was, I found myself hurtling through the air, crashing into a tree with my back. Trying to catch my breath was nearly impossible due to the impact and the thick, heavy fog that I kept forcefully inhaling.
The earth-shattering footsteps that sounded so pivotal during their initial approach were now slow and deliberate. There was no need for urgency. Like a lion casually making its way to a mortally wounded gazelle. What need is there for hurrying when your mark has no hope for escape? Or was it deliberately trying to frighten me? Was it maliciously prolonging my suffering?
My knife was long gone. All I could do was sit there and await my inevitable demise.
As afraid as I was, I refused to close my eyes. At least I was going to get some vindication. I’d have tangible proof that I didn’t make it all up, even if it was just for a few seconds.
Through the thickness of the mist, it was difficult to make out anything. It was definitely coming closer because I could feel the vibrations of its footsteps through the ground. My hands patted the ground around me, trying to reach my knife yet. But all I felt were moss and twigs.
Tears started streaming down my face when I realized I was never going to see my husband again. The thought of him waking up in the morning, only to find me gone without even so much as a note, suddenly made me comprehend what I had done. I couldn’t believe I was doing this to him. Yes, I planned this. Sort of. But even when stuffing the backpack behind Clark’s back, the implications of what I was going to do didn’t sink in. Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing.. I just.. it felt like I was doing the obvious thing, you know? Of course I would go after the monstrous creature that nearly killed me and my dog the first time around. Only in hindsight did it hit me how truly moronic this all had been.
The monster was now so close I could feel its warm, musky breath engulf the air around me. But I couldn’t see anything. The fog had gotten so thick I couldn’t even see my own hands when I held them at arm’s length.
In a panicked frenzy, I yelled out: ‘FUCKING DO IT’. I couldn’t take it anymore. There was no escape, I tried to move my legs but they refused. I wasn’t able to find my knife. this was It. It was over. I screamed again: ‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!’. With my final breath, I let out a final, guttural scream that seemed to echo throughout the forest around me.
Then, a shriek propelled itself from behind me. It was so high-pitched I pressed my hands tightly around my ears. After a few seconds, my fingers started to feel wet and sticky. I held out my hands and saw they were covered in blood. The shriek stopped but there was this persistent low-frequency tone that, even to this day, won’t relent.
As the shrieking subsided, I started to realize the heavy breath of whatever leviathan was standing right in front of me mere seconds ago, was no longer there. The fog started to dissipate as well. Slowly I was able to make out more and more contours, until finally, the world was bright again.
There was a pause. A kind of relief washed over me, but only for a few moments. All of a sudden, my brain jolted. It was like waking up from a nightmare. I heard a voice yell: ‘RUN!’. I didn’t question it, I just ran like hell. Passed the willow tree, back towards my garden path. I didn’t stop until I thought I saw my porch light. Thankfully, this time I was only gone for a few hours, so I sort of expected Clark and Schnitzel to still be asleep.
When I reached the porch I let myself fall onto the ground and closed my eyes. What.the.fuck just happened to me? The door swung open. Clark! He looked like he had seen a ghost. He fell to his knees and grabbed my face screaming: ‘WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!’.
I couldn’t comprehend what was going on. I couldn’t have been gone for more than a few hours. If last time was any indication it should have been mere minutes for him.
The rest of that day was a blur. I spent it talking to several police officers, my shrink, family and friends.. with their fucking casseroles. Fuck. Turns out, what felt like hours to me, were weeks for everybody else. I had been gone for nearly three weeks(!). I tried to explain everything to Clark. You can imagine how that went down.
Yes.. you’re thinking about my phone. My found-footage horror masterpiece that proves once and for all there is a monster living in our backyard. No.
Oh it did record.. something. There were three videos made. The first two videos are jolty and make it look like I’m walking very slowly, throttling over and through bushes and branches. The third video is strange. It’s at the same slow pace. But it looks very smooth, like I’m floating over everything. I.. I can’t explain it. The timestamps make no sense either. It seems like I recorded three 7-minute videos, each shot five days from each other.. Pfff, I just don’t know.
So here I am, again.
It’s been about a week since I came back. There’s someone with me all the time now, checking if I’m drinking, eating, sleeping,.. not running off into the forest in the middle of the night. It sucks but it was the compromise I agreed to, to prevent being committed to a mental hospital. Clark’s been.. he’s been surprisingly fine. He’s very supportive.. For a husband who thinks his wife is going through a psychotic episode. He doesn’t believe me, of course, but I understand. If it had happened to him I doubt I’d be any less of a sceptic.
It’s tearing me apart thinking about what I’ve put him through. But what was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? I can’t let some monster roam around in our backyard. And what was that shrieking? Are there more?? I’ve been trying to avoid taking the anti-psychotics they’ve prescribed me. But it’s been difficult. Some days I can’t think straight, let alone come up with a plan. But I know this is real. There is something out there..