December break in 2018 was supposed to be a relaxing retreat. An escape from the bore of countless hours in lectures, followed by more time pored over assignments. Instead, my break was spent feeling anxious, stalked, and hunted by something I still don’t understand. What follows is the account of that unforgettable break.
My story begins with me sitting on the worn couch in the airport at 6:35 a.m. waiting for my flight. The flight, which would rescue me from the boisterous city of Boston. My first semester of college had been a ravenous hurdle to overcome; the assimilation into a different environment, strangers becoming friends, and the struggle of college courses.
At that moment it became worth it, soon I would be in the air coming home to quiet Boone, North Carolina.
The call to begin boarding my flight came over the intercom at 7:15 as the hints of sunrise began to form outside the large windows. With my overpriced Starbucks drink in hand (still damn good coffee), I walked over and was quickly seated on the plane. It turns out not many people need to fly to the Appalachians from Boston.
…
The flight landed around eight o’clock, a nice smooth landing, the opposite of the rough break that awaited me.
As I exited the entrance of the airport, luggage rolling behind me, I was greeted by my mother Holly who had insisted on picking me up.
“If it isn’t my handsome boy! Come I need a hug from my favorite son” my mother said , giving a smile so inviting it could melt all worries.
“I’m your only son Mom” I chuckled. “I’ve missed you so much”.
Embracing her open arms, I got a long-needed hug from someone I loved.
“Just relieved you made it home safely. I was starting to get tired of Facetiming, it isn’t nearly the same.” Releasing our grasp on each other we embarked towards the truck for the drive home.
…
Home was a 45-acre piece of land that rested near the base of the Appalachians. I say it “was” home because I have since graduated. Also, after that break it never really felt like home to me anymore. Instead it felt like it belonged to something or someone else.
The nearest neighbors are my grandparents who also live on the land several hundred yards from the main house. Most of the land is densely wooded, with briers, and thick overgrowth making it nearly impossible to traverse. The majority of these areas are in the back against the mountain.
Owenvsv since 1840 the sign that hung above the driveway entrance (by two large, wooded pillars) read as we pulled in. The year 1840 was when my family, the Whitlock’s, had purchased the land, and since for generations have lived.
…
The rest of the day was spent unpacking, talking to family, and playing with the dogs (which were kept in the gated lot next to the barn). That night I enjoyed a wonderful home-cooked meal, something I had been craving during the weeks I spent away.
After showering I slid into bed, comforted by the large red and black checkered blanket I had spread over the bed. The alarm clock to my left displayed 11:45 p.m. in bright red; with no intention of going to sleep soon, I reached over and plucked a book from the shelf. I didn’t make it four chapters in before the quiet was disturbed by the crunching of leafs outside my window.
Living in a rural setting you quickly learn all kinds of strange noises animals can make. One such way is by how heavy or light they walk. They heavy crunch of leafs indicated it couldn’t be a squirrel or smaller critter as the culprit. While unusual for a deer to come this close to the house, I assumed it must be a curious one.
The sound persisted for a few more seconds before halting. My curiosity peaked, I walked over to the window and peered out; the only greeting was the void of darkness. I returned to bed and decided to sleep, not hearing any more from my visitor as I drifted into dreams.
…
The following several days were spent working with my grandfather. The project which had been planned for months was the renovation of the barn. It stood lonesome in a wide-open part of the land, its only company the dog lot beside it and the sea of fall leafs with their former homes bare.
Each day a different task: replacing boards, cleaning out old unused stalls, applying a new coat of paint to the roof, and other miscellaneous. However, there was one thing each day shared. Every night I continued hearing the same crunch of leafs outside my window, each occurrence around the same time, like clockwork. It wasn’t until the tenth night since I had come home when I caught a glimpse of what was causing the noise.
…
I had gone to visit my grandparents after dinner and didn’t leave until much later than I anticipated; meaning I didn’t bring a flashlight with me. My grandmother was prone to being able to carry on conversations long after they could have finished. Once could often find themselves repeating the same topic points with her for over an hour. With that said, it probably was around midnight when I finally departed on the lengthy walk back home.
As I said earlier, from my parents house to my grandparents is a couple hundred yards. Much of which is through open land except for the halfway point where you must pass through carved-out trail from one of the more wooded areas. A trail that we kept clear of any fallen limbs or leafs.
This is where I found myself during my first real encounter, surrounded by trees to my side with their fallen leafs covering their base. The hoot of owls searching for their next meal. My footsteps alone down the path, barely illuminated by the useless built-in flashlight from my phone. I was alone, until my pace was joined by another, one which walked amongst the leafs beside of me.
Despite me being a college student and legal adult, I felt like a terrified kid at that moment. I tried my best to keep it cool for as long as possible, I really did. Whoever is reading this you might be wondering why am I scared of something walking in the leafs. There are plenty of animals in the woods right? When I say it joined my pace, it means it was mimicking my movements. When I walked it walked, when I stopped it stopped, right beside me the entire time. Probably a couple of feet away; shrouded in darkness.
It didn’t register to me in the moment but it is clear to me now as I write this, I was being hunted.
I stopped my pace as I almost walked right into a tree. Standing there for a moment; my mind was becoming increasingly clouded by anxiety. That’s when the thing broke protocol, despite me being still it took a step, crunching the leafs beneath it. Somehow, I knew, the step was angled towards me instead of alongside me. Not waiting to find out I ran, not daring to look back or stop.
…
I ran for what felt like forever and considering it was pitch black I had no sense of direction other than the straight line I ran in. Unable to tell if it was pursuing me.
I ended up tripping over a root sticking out of the ground, crashing hard and rolling across the earth beneath me. Dirt getting into my hair and a hole ripped into my jacket.
I scurried up against the trunk of a tree, whose root had tripped me. Breathe heavy, and my head aching it took me a moment to recognize where I was. The pale moon illuminated the tin roof of the barn, which had partially been repainted with a dark red.
Slowing my breathing, I was finally able to hear noises other than my heavy inhales and exhales. On cue, it seemed, the crunch of leafs began. Slow and steady. Getting noticeably louder with each step as it got closer. The dogs from the lot a couple dozen yards away hauling and going wild. Until it all stopped, and inches away, the breath of the culprit began blowing into my face; sending shivers through my body.
Daring I reached and flipped the flashlight of my phone upwards. The light caught a mouth as it flung open, too wide for a human’s jaw to make. The teeth though were almost human but uncanny, jagged, with black specks stained on them, saliva dripping all over them. The creature or human or whatever it was quickly backed away. Screeching, piercing the cold night air with a blood-curling noise I had never heard before. The sound started low to the ground before rising high in the air; like a singer being raised on a platform. I took my opportunity and ran, understanding where I was, I made it back to the house. Crashing through the door and collapsing to the floor.
…
I tried explaining to my parents what happened, but they thought I was being silly. Saying it was probably some rabid coyote or wolf. But they didn’t see or experience what I did.
The next morning, I installed a light sensor outside my window. I didn’t end up hearing the crunch of leafs anymore during that break. Not the following breaks either during the rest of college.
…
It’s been five years now to the date. Correction. It was five years to the date of no sign of the “lurker” as I dubbed it. Until tonight, as I sit here in my house in Kettle Falls, Washington. I can still hear the crunch of leafs outside which made me start writing about that experience tonight. Having to tell someone, anyone, that would possibly believe me.
But now I think I can hear it beginning to tap on the window. Maybe I should finally go get a clearer look at this lurker? After all.
Do you know what walks amongst the leafs at night?