It was one of those late nights on the job. But that didn’t bother me at all. In fact, it was one of my favorite parts of being a park ranger. Hanging around late at night, with just a few of my fellow rangers in the middle of the woods, it was just like huddling around a campfire while you told stories. Except we were indoors around a fireplace. It was the middle of spring, but it had been cold lately, so while the afternoons were pleasant, the nights had been chilly. Which was why we were all inside gathered around a fire while on the clock. The ranger station was beyond comfortable with a fire, so I was contently sitting in one of the many leather couches facing it.
We were all midway through a shift, and like many nights on the job, it was quiet, so we got to talking about nothing in particular. There’s nothing like the natural flow of an unplanned conversation. Outside, the evening had slowly given way to night, and the darkness had settled upon the woods with its usual silent thoroughness. The area may be a park during the day, but at night, it was the woods. Parks inherently sound fun and brings to mind cookouts, whereas “the woods” has an inherently spooky vibe.
There were four of us sitting by the fire in the ranger station on that chilly night. Me, Harland, Anthony, and Craig. Craig had just finished talking about his cousin’s wedding when Anthony asked Harland what his scariest story was from working here all these years.
Usually, Harland just chuckled and said he’d heard some crazy things over the years. But not this time. This time, he sat there quietly for a moment before he said, “The Witch of Blackthorn Creek.”
That was when we all went completely still. If we were just like people huddled around a campfire, Harland was the one in charge of building the fire. He was the ranger we always deferred to. He’d been on the job long enough to have earned that right. Harland’s family had also been in the area for generations, so if anyone had any stories to tell about what may have happened here, it was him. Plus he was a terrific guy. Hardworking and beyond helpful when you needed something. So when someone like Harland tells you he’s heard of a story like that, you listen. Intently. Especially with the tone of voice he used. Serious and no nonsense, without a trace of amusement.
“The Witch of Blackthorn Creek,” Harland began in a clear voice as we all gave him our full attention. “The story was first told to me by my Uncle George. Who had been a lumberjack for years. According to him, people said there was a curse on the land, which was placed there by a witch. It all started one year, when the harvest went bad. Since there had been nothing but plentiful harvests every year, it made people beyond suspicious. There was barely enough grain and stuff to get through winter. It didn’t help matters that the town had generally been prosperous but had recently started to go through some financial difficulties. Then, numerous bits of misfortune happened within the community over the years. Houses burning down. People going missing and never being found again. Periodically, there would be something odd left lying around near where someone had vanished. Creepy things like weird looking dolls made from wood that never failed to rattle people. There wasn’t anyone around who people thought was capable of anything like this, and since one of the families in town had experienced something like this before in a different town many years ago, they suspected there was some kind of curse put on them. Especially after a few people who kept track of all the strange events realized all of them took place on a full moon.”
Harland took a sip of his coffee before he continued. “It all came to a head when there was a terrible accident at the town lumber mill. A fire that no one could figure out how it started. Several employees died and many others were badly injured, and the lumber mill, which was one of the biggest employers around, closed. That was when the paranoia that had been lingering under the surface boiled over. So when some people from town found an abandoned cottage in the woods near Blackthorn Creek with weird symbols written on the walls and the floor, they grabbed their torches, set the place on fire, and watched it burn. According to the crowd, the cabin took forever to burn. Much longer than the people thought possible. But once it did finally burn down, they took the ashes and buried them deep in the woods and didn’t mark the location, hoping that would be the end of it. And, for a while, that seemed to be the case. But every once in a while, something would happen that would make people in town look over their shoulders. Nothing major. A bit of bad luck in the form of an injury. Or some suspicious noises outside the house after dark and perhaps some scratch marks on the door or the wall. But ever since then, people would be very careful what they did, especially if there was a full moon.”
Then he paused for a moment to look at the fire, which was crackling pleasantly in the fireplace. “I couldn’t tell you how old I was when I first heard the story, but I remember exactly how I felt. Confused. Because the story, although creepy and entertaining, didn’t quite make sense to me. And I said something to Uncle George about that. And he laughed. Then he said he agreed that the story was long on atmosphere and short on believability. That’s when he got serious. Told me that although the story was a bit of fiction, he never doubted that it came from somewhere, and there was indeed something going on out in the woods. Then he added that it didn’t matter how old I was, where I was, who I was with, or what was going on. If I got a terrible feeling, I should listen to it. And I’ve listened to every feeling I’ve gotten since then. It’s never served me wrong.”
He looked around at us, slowly taking us all in.
“I’ve never quite believed that story, but I will be the last person to deny that in all the years I’ve been out here, I’ve felt things on occasion. Things that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. And on even fewer occasions, I’ve seen things. Fleeting glances at things that I wasn’t sure I saw. But there was one time when I not only felt something, I heard something.”
The air in the ranger station was completely still. I briefly glanced at my colleagues as Harland said this, and they met my glance, and I could see they were just as gripped by the story as I was.
“It was about 30 years ago,” Harland explained. “I was just starting out as a park ranger. This was back in the early 90s when technology, and life in general, was very different from today. I’d grown up out in nature, and I’d seen plenty of scary movies, and more importantly, I’d grown up hearing countless spooky stories about what may or may not have been lurking outside, so I wasn’t exactly sheltered. But there are some things you’re never truly prepared to experience.”
The fire in the fireplace popped in the grate, but we were so absorbed in Harland’s story we barely noticed. There was plenty of wood in the fire, so we didn’t have to worry about that for a while.
“It was early November. Halloween had just ended, which made everyone sad because I remember that year was a particularly fun one. Darkness seemed to be arriving earlier and earlier, so I was barely halfway through my shift when the sun was going down. I remember it had been raining almost every day, so the days were all grey and cloudy, and the nights were damp with plenty of fog. But that particular morning was dry. All the leaves that had clung to the trees had been scattered by the winds and rain, so they lay there on the grass, all damp and torn. My job on that particular day was to go around raking them up so they didn’t completely cover the trails and paths that people walked on. The chill in the air was that chill only late fall can bring. The dampness that seems to soak into your skin and never let go. I had just finished one section of the park and was walking back to my truck when the rain started up again, and it did so with a fury. So I hustled it to the truck, got inside, and headed back to the ranger station where I planned to spend the rest of the evening. And since it was a quiet night at the ranger station, it looked like I would get what I wanted. I was used to working the late shift by myself as the night supervisor, so being alone didn’t bother me. I’d always been a quiet type who liked to read a book, so it was an ideal situation for me. Except for that night.”
Harland took a deep breath before he continued. “Because Halloween was over and the rain had been steady, the park hadn’t received as many visitors as it usually had. But I was inside the ranger station, this ranger station in fact, which was just as cozy and warm as you see it now. Plus now that I was done with my task, I was free to read a book, so I wasted no time in curling up by the fire with a paperback. I’d spent many a shift this way, and it was fine by me. I’d happily read a book on a nice day, but on a rainy day? Nothing better. Eventually, I started to get hungry. Since I’d just brought a light snack but turned out to be craving something bigger, I decided to order pizza. There was a local joint that was only a few minutes away that often delivered out here back then, so I didn’t hesitate to give them a call. I ordered a medium pizza with pepperoni, and as I hung up, the rain started to really pound heavily on the station roof.
I knew from experience that the rain pounding on the station roof could truly be loud. It seemed to surround you from all sides.
“But by the time the headlights pulled into the driveway, the rain had faded to a slight drizzle. But I could see the grass leading up here was pretty well soaked, and there were numerous small puddles on both the grass and the road. The trees were swaying along with the winds, and the sky was getting darker by the minute as night was settling in. By now, the outdoor lights had started to switch on as the car from the pizza place pulled up in front of the station, its windshield wipers going back and forth as it stopped in front of the entrance. I stood in front of it, under the part of the roof that kept me out of the rain. The driver, a young guy named Derek in his early 20s, got out of the driver’s seat and grabbed the pizza from the passenger’s side. Derek had delivered here before, and he’d always done a great job. We chit chatted as I handed him the cash with a generous tip. Then Derek handed me the pizza and was just about to go back to his car before he stopped and stared at something behind me. He paused, and said that it would probably sound crazy, but it looked like there was a woman lurking in the woods near the ranger station.”
We all sat there silently for a moment before Harland continued.
“I remember just standing there when he told me. The words sounded almost foreign as Derek said them out loud. My first reaction was that it was impossible. But there was only one way to find out, so I turned behind me to look at where he was pointing.”
He took another sip of coffee.
“The cluster of trees he was pointing at was a dense area of tall pine trees. They’ve been long gone by now. But back then, there wasn’t much in the way of illumination out there, but even I could see there was nothing there. I stood there, the pizza still clutched in my hand, as I waited for anything to happen. But nothing emerged from the woods. I was just about to turn back to Derek when I heard ‘Get Out’ from beside me in a hushed voice, clear as could be. I turned around immediately to look at Derek, and without saying a word, I knew he’d heard it too. But while it was creepy as could be, I didn’t know for sure what it meant. It didn’t come out as an ominous command. More like a warning. But I won’t lie, standing there outside, I’d never felt fear like that before. I’d been afraid before, and I’d been afraid after, but not like that. That fear was less like a feeling and more like a part of your body. Like it’s always there, and only rarely are you truly aware of it.”
Sitting there watching Harland, it was clear that although we were sitting there in the present, he had been immediately transported back to that cold November night.
“I couldn’t have told you how much time passed. May have only been a minute or two. But despite the dwindling light, I thought I could see shapes moving far out in the woods. Very far out. After a moment, you couldn’t see anything at all.”
Then Harland’s voice became quieter.
“To this day, I have no idea why that sight filled me with so much fear. Just like I also have no idea how I knew it was people. But I did. And I knew it was people, as in more than one. Much more than one. But I had no idea exactly how many. Then, almost as if on cue, I heard the word, ‘Now’. And it was all the motivation I needed to tell Derek we had to go. He didn’t need to be told twice, because we hopped in his car and got out of there as fast as we could. Didn’t stop for about 20 miles and we were far away from the ranger station. By that point the fear had slowly faded and I was starving, so we split the pizza while debating what to tell my superiors. I eventually decided to say that I was feeling really sick and went to see a doctor I knew.”
Harland chuckled. “But it didn’t take long for me to realize my excuse for leaving would be completely forgotten. Because after I left, the ranger station had been broken into by a group of people. The security camera we had at the time saw all 6 of them, dressed from head to toe in black, break right through the front door. Just crashed right through it. Then, minutes later, they came back out without taking anything, and vanished into the trees. The cops thoroughly searched the area but found nothing. I found out when I called my superiors to tell them I had to leave because I was feeling horrible. From the time on the camera, they appeared to arrive within mere minutes after I left with Derek.”
We all exchanged a look as the fact that he really was talking about this ranger station dawned on us. Sitting across from us, Harland didn’t say anything, but I knew he could tell the three of us were seeing the ranger station like never before.
“The conclusion the cops reached,” Harland eventually said. “Is that it was a gang of professional criminals who saw the ranger station and decided to see what they could find. Since there was apparently nothing they could make use of, they split. And every year on that day since that happened, I’ve taken a single flower and left it by where Derek says he saw someone that night. I’ve never seen or heard that voice since that night, but on occasion, I’ve felt the presence of something or someone watching me, and not in an unpleasant way. But that’s the thing about the woods. There’s no telling what you may find in them. And if you’re really paying attention, it’s amazing what you can learn. Like I learned that November night, all those years ago, was a full moon. The clouds just happened to obscure it out here.”