Greetings y’all, the name’s Billy. Where do I start with this tale of mine … well, I do reckon an explanation for why I’m writing here would be best now.
I figured it was about time I shared a personal experience from my days as a youngster with the world. What happened to me a long time ago was far beyond what any sane man could believe, and I didn’t think I’d have the will of steel it would take to describe what happened; but none of that matters now. I’ve got this feeling deep in my heart, mind, and soul telling me that I must finally put this tale out there.
I wasn’t sure where to tell my story, but a good friend of mine recommended me this here site. They said it’d be a good place if I had something unusual to share, and after looking around for a bit, I can certainly say this is the place for my tale.
I suppose it’d be best if I start by explaining the unusual setting I come from, since as I’ve come to understand it, nothing about the place I grew up in is normal. Allow me a few moments to tell y’all about it so you folks can better understand my circumstances.
See, I was born in a place called Eden. Where it is? I couldn’t tell you honestly. It doesn’t appear there are maps or information about it anywhere. It’s like the place doesn’t even exist, but I know for a fact it does and is out there somewhere. There’s far more to it than that though.
Imagine a bunch of mountains, alright? Imagine them forming an almost complete circle around a large land mass, with the only opening to the circle of rock being a rather narrow valley. In a sense, it’s as if the lord himself created a wall around a piece of land to protect and preserve it from the troubles of the outside world; or perhaps, he wanted to keep something confined in those walls of stone. I often find myself wondering which one it could be.
Now, I may be horrified of the place as it stands, but I ain’t fixing to lie to anyone here about how breathtakingly beautiful the land within those mountains was. If it weren’t for what happened, I would’ve still been convinced the place descended from Heaven itself.
Endless fields of long green grass, sprinkled with the occasional patch of colorful flowers that danced among a sea of green. Snow-covered mountains that, at the time, seemed to act as a protective barrier, shielding me from the worries of the outside world. Rivers and lakes as clear as mirrors, and as blue as the skies above. Rolling green hills you could tumble down for miles and miles. A vast expanse of wilderness untouched by man, filled with wondrous spectacles of nature. All manners of wild critters flourishing in harmony with one another - constantly playful, full of grace, and well-fed.
Believe it or not, people like myself were fortunate —perhaps unfortunate in hindsight— to live in such a seemingly ideal wonderland.
Near the valley leading into Eden was Bethel, my hometown. When I say town though, I mean more of a small city of sorts. Bethel was mighty expansive, strangely advanced too. The place pretty much had it all: family-run businesses, fairly sizable neighborhoods, restaurants, and that ain’t even the half of it. In a way, everything you could ever need in life existed right there in one place.
As you can imagine, or maybe not considering its seeming remoteness, lots of folks lived in Bethel. The people there were unlike anywhere else - you’d swear everyone was lifelong family, but they weren’t. Residents got along, helped each other, and cared deeply for one another in a way that felt completely genuine.
Befitting of a town inhabited by such lovely folks, things in Bethel ran much better there than they do out here. Things got done, people were reasonable, pay was great all-around, I could go on and on about how unrealistically ideal the circumstances were there.
Now that y’all have an idea of the setting I come from, I’ll go ahead and retell the events leading up to the moment my life shattered into a million pieces.
I lived on the outskirts of town on one of the local farms. The farm resided a little ways off from town, close to the accursed wilderness that took up a good portion of the land within those mountains. On the farm it was me, my ma, and my pa living together. My ma was a sweet lady who provided for her family and would often spend her days gardening, caring for the animals we had, or cleaning around. She was a true angel as I see it. My old man meanwhile, well, they were something else.
He was the greatest man anyone could ever ask for, a gift sent directly from the lord himself. All the residents in town respected him. He’d be out longer than it’d take the cows to come home doing all sorts of hard work. If he wasn’t busy and had spare time, he’d be out helping around town. He alone made Bethel an even better place with his strength, intelligence, charms, love, and sternness.
That just leaves myself now.
I wasn’t nearly as impressive as my pa, but I was a fairly capable kid growing up. I wasn’t too smart — still ain’t — but that was fine since I had a practical sense for how to do stuff. I’d spend my days attending to chores around the farm and helping out in town. It was a simple and busy life, but a truly blissful one.
Given my capabilities at the time and my father’s nature, it should come as no surprise that I received a rather important job one day.
It was a fairly normal Monday for me: I had just finished dropping off some stock and was spending my afternoon relaxing up in a tree near the farm. Things had gotten incredibly busy at that time, so my parents were usually out in town working. Because of that, I hadn’t expected my pa to come home early and yell my name from below where I had been sitting. As it turned out, he was gonna be taking me out to one of our fields so I could learn how to handle a gun.
As you can imagine, my young self was stunned. It was completely out of the blue, so I asked him why. I can’t quote him word for word, but he said something along the lines of, “Ya be familiar with our town beauty Puriel, yea boy?” I said yes, “Well boy, she’s been runnin’ around town like a chicken with no head — warnin’ folks bout some darn coyotes prowlin’ round out in the fields. Worse yet, she says they got rabies. They tried to attack her while she was out collectin’ crops, but she got away jus’ fine. I don’t know what in the Sam Hill that little lady is made of, but credit to her and the angel that protected her. Lotta folks are out huntin’ for those thin’s now, but I just wanna be safe boy. I can’t be round the house with all this work I gotta do, and yer ma ain’t got the will or strength to handle no gun. Ya understand what I’m askin’ son? A man needs to defend home turf from some critters and prevent ‘em from causin’ any trouble if they come by.” Despite being nervous and shocked at the time, I wasn’t about to tell him that I didn’t feel up to it.
I spent the whole rest of that afternoon learning how to use the gun. Pa went over things like how to load the gun, how to hold it, general safety advice, and all that. He demonstrated his points before letting me try, and I was able to pick up on things pretty quickly thanks to him. The main thing he told me was, “Jus’ don fuck up holdin’ it and ya should be fine.”
By the time I finished practicing, the sun started to dip below the mountains. Pa seemed pretty satisfied with my results, and he called it a day once he trusted that I could at least shoot within the general vicinity of a coyote without hurting anyone.
Me and my old man always liked to go out on the front porch of the house when it got late and sit together in silence. Our front porch faced the forest, which was about a good mile or so away. The trees grew apart by a fair bit on the outer region of the woods, which made for excellent visibility and allowed us to see the sun as it set below the mountains over yonder. It would shine its brilliant rays through the trees and onto the fields of long grass blowing in front of us, casting everything in a brilliant shade of gold. There was nothing more pleasant than sitting there to stare at the stars and setting sun, soaking in the beauty of the land we lived on. I bring this up not only for the sake of preserving some fond memories, but because of the particular session on the porch that followed shortly after my training out in the fields.
After our usual moment of silence, my pa got straight into his battle plan for tomorrow. He went over protocol on how I’d be watching for coyotes around dawn and dusk. My station would be the porch, and I’d be accompanied by our dog, Cujo. Pa told me that if anything else the same size as or bigger than a coyote came to the farm, I was to run inside and lock everything before hiding. He was referring to things like bears, wolves, moose, mountain lions, buffalo, and other beasts he didn’t think I’d be able to handle if one decided to show up. They didn’t really come out of the woods, so it was never a problem in general. I made that exact point to him when he brought it up, and I foolishly proclaimed that I could probably kill one of those beasts if one were to visit. He responded to my claim first, “Well boy, I know ya probably ain’t too afraid of those beasts now that yer a big man with a gun. Heh, get my reference? Eh, probably not at yer age. Anyway son, it jus’ don’ benefit ya tryin’ to take one of them beasts down. Hmm, maybe it would on second thought. Maybe killin’ one of those thin’s will impress that lil beauty Puriel eh?” He gave me a rough head pat with a chuckle after saying that. It truly was a nice moment, to sit there and listen to my old man talk. This memory I have of our final moments together on that porch is a great example of the wonderful man he was behind his rough exterior.
He moved on to my point about the large animals usually staying away from us and the town, which is where he mentioned something rather peculiar, “Now, I ain’t ever seen much come outta there myself, but I warn ya and ma every now and then jus’ to be safe. I been paranoid of that sort of thin’ after my own pa told me bout his supposed run-in with a monster near the edge of the forest.” Being a kid and all, you can imagine how morbidly intriguing that was to hear. While Bethel’s residents often spoke of different myths, my pa was one of the few who didn’t; he just didn’t believe in those sorts of things. To hear him offer such a tale was an opportunity I wasn’t about to skip out on, so I asked him to elaborate, “Hmm, yer ma don’ like me talkin’ bout grandpa since he’d go and say all sorts o’ crazy thin’s, but I’ll tell ya cause ya know better than to believe in tall tales. Don’ let yer ma know though. She’ll be madder than a wet hen if ya do. Got that Billy?” My intrigue grew immediately. It was like when someone offers you knowledge on something no one else knows a thing about. I agreed to not tell ma, and he seemed pretty confident that I wouldn’t be frightened. Once he felt assured that I’d be fine and that the coast was clear, he began to tell me the tale of grandpa’s run-in with a supposed beast from the woods.
“Well one day, while sittin’ on this porch late at night, my ol’ man said he could see a large black mass movin’ through them trees over yonder. He couldn’t make a damn thin’ out as the mass passed between the trees, but he could figure out a few thin’s bout it after a while of starin’. He said it was roughly round the size of a moose, and it appeared to be some flailin’ mass of sorts. Lots of whatever it was flopped and swung around all weird accordin’ to him. That ain’t all though boy, get this: ya know those damn annoyin’ cartoons ya’d watch from time to time? Know how them characters move all exaggerated with the bouncy motions n’ shit? He said the thin’ moved in a similarly exaggerated manner, like some animated stereotype of a king walkin’ all prideful, thinkin’ they’re the greatest thin’ to have ever existed. Jus’ imagine it, some huge ass monster struttin’ round in those woods rather than stompin’ and crushin’ everythin’ in its path. Heh, it’s funny to think bout I’ll tell ya that.” Indeed, it did sound rather funny to my young self. I remember picturing a large lumbering beast moving around like a cartoon hunk with the chest all puffed out, their legs taking long strides, and the fists curled as the arms would stiffly shift back and forth similar to a machine.
“The last thin’ he told me was that he could hear its voice being carried across the wind from the edge of the forest. Shit ya not, he claimed it was singin’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult. Great song that is boy, some of the best music I ever heard. Ya best make sure to listen to it someday, ya hear? Anyway, I ain’t sure what my old man was hopin’ to accomplish in attachin’ the song to his tale. Maybe it was his own creative, albeit messy, way of tryin’ to get me interested in the band so I’d listen to them. Rather than jus’ telling me, “Hey boy, listen to this,” he made up a tall tale and attached the song to it like a sort of intriguin’ mystery where I had to find the meanin’ to his story by listenin’ to the song. Suppose it worked, in a way. I only took a listen afterwards so I could know what in the Sam Hill he was even talkin’ bout. But that concludes yer grandpa’s tale. One heck of a crazy man I tell ya, but at least he could tell a mighty amusin’ story, even if it wasn’t his intention. I ain’t ever believe in him though, even as a kid. Way I see it, ya got folks like those obsessed with Bigfoot who don’ want to grow up and realize the only real monsters are drugs and bad men. They wanna believe there’s somethin’ more out there, but that jus’ ain’t the case. I reckon he saw him a big ass bear, moose, or wolf and made up the rest.”
My ma would interrupt our session a few moments later after pa finished telling me the tale. The night concluded with us all peacefully sitting in the house and having dinner together before I went to bed. Little did I know when I closed my eyes that night that I would never be spending another peaceful dinner at the table with my family. Little did I know that night that the time I had spent earlier with my father on the porch would be our last moments together.
It was the crack of dawn when I awoke the following morning, and I went through my usual routine before immediately attending to my assigned station on the porch with the dog and gun. Compared to my usual labor and chores, this job was relatively lax. All I had to do was sit on the porch and keep watch for a time. Easy enough, right folks? Well, that’s exactly what the problem was.
Later on in the afternoon, I would be back at my post on the porch with Cujo after doing some chores. Hate to admit it, but I felt as tired as a bear in winter. That ain’t an excuse for me falling asleep, but the cool weather and peaceful ambience proved too much for myself.
It felt as though no time had passed between me falling asleep, and me jolting awake to Cujo’s barking. I was quick to notice that in the distance, halfway between the porch and the edge of the forest, a coyote was making a run for it with a hen limp from its jaws. The critter was too far away for me to feel comfortable enough with taking the shot, and being groggy didn’t help me any either, so I frantically took off in pursuit of it. It may have already had what it wanted, but I wasn’t about to let it get away so it could try for another round later with newfound confidence. It was a foolish choice on my part, especially since I didn’t even think to consider more might come by while I was away, nor was I mindful of the setting sun.
I ran across fields of tall, gold grass that traveled up to my chest. Visibility wasn’t great, especially with a dying sun on the horizon, but I could roughly judge the critter’s location from the moving grass in the distance. It’d begun to close in on the edge of the forest, so I picked up my pace. I wanted to get close the moment it broke out of the long grass so I’d have an opportunity for a clean shot. I’d never end up getting that opportunity though, and my chase would continue into the forest officially referred to by locals as Albino Woods.
I’d chased the coyote a good ways into the outer rim and became well-focused on either chasing it as far away as possible, or finding the right time to stop and shoot it.
It was beyond ridiculous I gave chase, let alone, at that time of day. It’s no excuse, but such common sense was beyond my young, stupid self. I was emotionally unstable too, because I had failed my family when I let that critter sneak in. It could’ve gone and attacked one of our more expensive animals, which would’ve screwed us big time. I wasn’t having any of it, I refused to let it get away.
Being so caught up in my emotions and so deep in thought, I completely ignored the signs that something followed me and the critter into the woods. I still recall having been somewhat aware of labored breathing and the crunching of leaves close by during my chase, but I hadn’t paid it any mind. I didn’t bother even taking so much as a glance to check if I had imagined it or not in my desperation. That decision, to not look back for even a second, is a decision I’d forever regret.
After about half a minute of chasing the critter through the woods we came across a small hill. It quickly disappeared over the hill, which hid it and what was in front of me for a short time. I remember being worried that I’d lose it then and there, but when I reached the hill’s top, I stopped dead in my tracks. I could still see the coyote running, but ahead of it was its pack. You’d think they would have been far away, alerted by the sounds of us approaching. Truth be told, they were trying to make a run for it, that’s the first thing I noticed about all of them; but then I realized why they were moving so slowly and hadn’t managed to get way on ahead of us.
The coyote I chased looked young and fit, but the rest of its pack didn’t. The rest of those critters weren’t nothing but skin and bones. As angry as I had been, that anger wasn’t enough to prevent my heart from breaking in half out of pity at that moment. Those poor things looked as though they hadn’t eaten in years; yet, in spite of their obvious hunger and weakness, they were trying their best to run away. I’d never seen a more pitiful display in all my life. They moved no faster than a bunch of tortoises, and even at such a slow pace, most of them managed to collapse in the process of fleeing. Seeing them like that made me realize the young one, the one I chased, was probably their only hope for obtaining food. Upon making that realization, it made me feel awful.
It didn’t help my guilt that the coyotes would keep glancing back in my direction with this unmistakable look of terror in their eyes. I know for a fact I ain’t seen that kind of fear in an animal ever before, or after. The fear they felt must’ve been an all-encompassing terror that kept their bodies moving even when it wasn’t possible, a terror that had scarred them badly enough to keep their bodies forever quivering, a terror that I too would know.
Feeling as though I had committed a terrible sin, I ultimately decided to let the pack at least have the chicken. I turned myself around to start walking in the opposite direction from the critters, and I only took a step before I saw it.
Sickly yellow eyes similar to spoiled milk, with pupils that looked like a pair of shattered, bleeding moons falling apart into wisps of red smoke. Red and black veins that crept across its body as though they were weeds spreading across a garden. An open chest full of protruding ribs, like the open jaws of a gator lying in wait for its prey beneath muddy waters. A gaping maw, like a soundless, permanent scream from enduring an eternity of pain, which seemed to stretch out as if attempting to leave the rest of its body. Sharp fangs coated in an ever running stream of saliva, bared for all to see its unyielding hunger. Claws contorted in various directions, similar to roots searching for something to sink into. Spiked fur covered in shades of red and brown - painted by countless victims and the tar pits of Hell.
What I saw was not from our creator. It was a coyote, no, a demon that had crawled its way out of the devil’s domain so it could torment the souls of the living. I know diseases and parasites can do strange things to forest critters, but those things don’t come nowhere close to explaining that abomination. The only conclusion I can reach is that the damned beast somehow escaped from the underworld, and I’d been unfortunate enough to be close to whatever brimstone pit it must’ve crawled out from.
The demon’s exposed chest heaved back and forth, expanding and deflating in the manner that a balloon would. Its ribs would spread apart and then close together again like an extra set of teeth chattering together as it exhausted these ragged sounding breaths between distorted gurgling that made it sound as though it were trying to live in spite of some unbearable pain.
Crimson tears poured from its eyes and dripped onto the leaves beneath it. Yellowish fluid streamed out from its nostrils and ears. Its jaws expelled waterfalls of red, yellow and white liquid occasionally, similar to a hose being turned on at random. The dripping sound the liquids made upon hitting the carpet of leaves below already put me on edge, but the loud interruption of it expelling whatever was inside it between the drips only proved to further sicken me.
The looks and noises of that demon were enough to cause me an eternity of restlessness. Its visible and audible suffering were both enough to be forever burned into my brain, but its movements were what really got to me. There were countless obstacles made by our creator to prevent anyone from ever seeing what I did, but this demon defied it all in a twisted display.
The moment we made “eye contact” a switch seemed to go off in its mind.
Its breathing quickened, which made its exposed chest look more like a second mouth that hungrily yearned to devour everything within radius as it opened and closed in quick succession. All manner of fluids began to spill forth from its mouth, nostrils and eyes. Its already open jaws stretched wider, peeling back its face as its mouth seemed to leave its own body. Then, it screamed. My lord did it scream. It sounded just like a woman, a woman who realized she lost something precious in her life that she’d never get back. I never thought I’d hear something so horrible in my life ever again - that audible emotion of agony, despair and rage all mixed into one bag.
Upon releasing its haunting scream, the creature began to move towards me. It didn’t walk though, oh no, no. It broke itself. There’s no other way to describe it to you folks.
Its legs snapped in several places the moment it moved, causing it to fall over. It didn’t stop moving when it hit the ground though, in fact, not for a moment did it ever stop. It began to slither on its stomach the moment it fell, all the while, its legs spasmed and jerked wildly as it attempted to force itself to stand again. It looked the way I imagined a spider would while having a seizure. Its legs became twisted and contorted beyond comprehension in the process, but it somehow managed to return to a standing position within seconds. As it stepped forward, its legs gave way once again. They weren’t nothing but a zigzagging mess at that point, but it kept coming towards me regardless.
Anguished breathing, combined with the constant, deafening noise of its body breaking apart accompanied this horrific display. Even though I wasn’t the victim, I cringed at every noise it made. I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle any of it.
Anyway, you’d think this thing would be slower than a slug right? Wrong. As I’ve said, not once did its advance stop. No matter how much it broke itself, it always managed to move itself closer to me.
After only mere moments, it began to pick up speed. It started to forcibly toss its whole body in my direction. It’d hit the ground and then spring itself a few feet forward on its mangled limbs. With each toss, with each movement, its form grew only more and more contorted. It may as well have been an organic ball with a few animal parts sticking out here and there at that point.
I was frozen with fear, but as it grew closer and closer, leaping and rolling its mangled body towards me, I snapped out of my shock. I ran for the nearest tree and began to frantically climb for my life.
It was hard to climb with the gun, so I dropped it and focused on getting my rear up to the highest branch. While some of you might consider me dumb enough to throw myself on the ground and miss, I believe I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for my decision at the time. If I had to carry the gun with me, I wouldn’t have been able to climb that tree faster than a hot knife going through butter. It didn’t help my case that I was both afraid and having to deal with something beyond my understanding all at once, which was and still is beyond my abilities. I just went with what felt right to me.
I’m glad I made the choice I did, because I’d only gotten halfway up the base of that tree when the demon slammed into the trunk below. It shook the entire darn thing. It even managed to knock an unfortunate bird that had been resting somewhere above us off a branch. I still remember it making this sickeningly loud, almost metallic sounding thud when it hit the leaves below. I continued climbing for my life until I felt I had found the firmest, largest branch on the tree. Only when I was wrapped around it like a sloth did I even dare to look down at the demon.
It reminded me of a bug, in a way. It was on its backside puking up nasty sludge all over itself and the surrounding area. Its limbs were flailing frantically in every direction, appearing more like tendrils of sorts at that point. Heck, it even sounded like an insect with the constant snapping it emitted while spasming out. I figured it must’ve finally damaged itself enough to become immobile, but my sense of relief didn’t last long. With everything that happened previously, I’d almost forgotten that the sun was setting.
I snapped my head back to look out at the distant mountains upon realizing how dark it was getting. The snow that rested at the top of the mountains was bathed in a hue of pink as the sun began to dip below the walls of rock. The silhouettes of the trees grew across the ground, forming into long, creeping shadows that began to shroud my surroundings in an expanding darkness. Amidst the shadows were splotches of bright orange, where the sun’s final rays still shone. I looked back the way I came in the hope that I could run back home before the shadows consumed everything, only to feel my heart begin to sink.
At first, I only noticed small things: bushes rustling, branches snapping and leaves crunching. Then, my ears were met with the sound of the whole forest breathing.
What I thought were fireflies appeared in the distant shadows, hovering roughly 1-2 feet off the ground. Shadows began to dart across the areas where the sun’s last rays touched the forest floor, rapidly scattering between shaded areas and moving gradually closer to my position. The sounds of gurgling and vomiting began to ring out between the trees.
That’s when all hell broke loose. Watching that horde of the damned pour from the shadows was nothing short of a nightmare brought to life.
Soulless yellow eyes gazed aimlessly in futility. Those fortunate enough to still have their pupils were on the verge of losing them – shattered like the first demon I saw, as though the window to their soul was in the process of being erased. Endless maws opened and closed, while others bared toothy smiles or chattered their teeth together. Waves of saliva, foam and other liquids poured across the leaves they walked on, corrupting the landscape and warping its natural beauty into something twisted and sickening.
Disfigured bodies barely recognizable as coyotes in most cases gradually made their way to the tree I clung to. Some bounded across the leaves at frightening speeds, smashing into and trampling everything in their path without a care as their heads and tails were limply tossed around. Others dragged themselves or limped, and while not fast, their progression made it clear to me that no matter how much time passed, they would continue their ceaseless chase till the very end. The least fortunate snaked or rolled across the forest floor, shifting their bodies back and forth as a result of being too broken to do anything else.
All the while, a haunting chorus filled the forest. Throats shredded or clogged produced songs of rage, agony, desperation, exhaustion, and sadness. Exhausted breathes that sounded like the demons had long since run out of oxygen and were sucking in air that’d never come. Cries and consistent whining followed many, desperate to escape whatever harsh judgment had been passed upon them. Screams and agonized calls which pierced my ears, almost seeming to relay the pain the beasts felt into my very being. Rage-induced bellows and snarling born from a dark hatred towards whatever caused their pain, and a clear spite directed towards those fortunate not to have suffered the same fate.
Right as the horde reached the tree, everything went dark. I couldn’t see a thing, and it must’ve been cloudy since there wasn’t a moon out to illuminate my surroundings. It felt like I was suspended in a sort of void, surrounded by complete nothingness. Not being able to see the ground below me made the drop feel endless, but the choir of the damned ringing out beneath my feet let me know how close I truly was to an unspeakable fate.
Leaves crunched like the sound of a million bugs being stepped on all at once. Shrill wails and cries of filled the air. Gargling as loud and as consistent as a raging river flowed through my ears. What sounded like paper being torn and thick branches being snapped were audible just beneath, a reminder of the ever-changing forms the suffering beasts below. Constant scratching and crunching that’d be shortly followed by groaning from the tree rang out into the night, a sort of ticking clock to remind me how much time remained before an uncertain demise.
You think I would’ve been thankful for not having to see those monstrosities anymore, but if you ask me, not being able to see them made the situation worse. I could no longer tell what they were doing. Whatever sick and twisted events unfolded below were made completely unknown to me.
I wasn’t all too aware of it during those moments, but my body had instinctively locked itself to the tree and crunched itself into a ball-like position. My fingers dug into the bark, my arms flexed with strength I never felt, and my legs folded into my chest like a lawn chair. I’d unwillingly become frozen in a stiff and painful position. Had I not known any better, I’d have thought I was confined inside a cave or coffin. All I could do was tightly grip the tree in front of me and listen to the choir of the damned below, and pray that God would save me from being taken by the legions of evil.
My mind meanwhile had gone completely numb, and it stayed that way long after this all happened. I’d been turned into an empty shell of sorts, an unfeeling man who didn’t have an opinion or care in the world for the longest time. I just went and navigated life on autopilot up until a few years back. I guess when a man experiences a terror he can’t handle, his body just ends up shutting down.
After a few minutes, the moon shone through the clouds, and I really wish it hadn’t in spite of what I said earlier. The forest floor and tree trunk below me from earlier was gone. All I saw were moving, contorting bodies - a sea of fur-covered, bloodied serpents. I could no longer comprehend the scene before my eyes. Their existence already defied all that I knew and learned growing up, but now I didn’t even know what to make of them. They’d become a coiling mass that constantly changed form. I can’t describe it any further; I don’t even want to try. Just know this much: I gazed into the pit of Hell and its many inhabitants gazed back. That wasn’t all though.
In the distance, I caught a brief glimpse of a large black mass. I’ve tried many times to remember its features, but whatever its form, it was too complex for me to get a good idea during the short period the moon shone through. All I know is that whenever it moved, parts of its shape would flail around. Whatever it was, it was accompanied by a smaller silhouette that I couldn’t make much out of either. The larger mass moved towards me, while the smaller one seemed to head in the direction I had entered the forest from. I don’t know what they were or what they were doing, but I do know that as soon as darkness fell over the forest again, I became aware of a new presence among the demons.
Unfortunately, I must end my tale here for right now. This man needs to take a break after spending so much time remembering the pain and horror of it all. It ain’t easy, I’ll tell you that. I hadn’t dared to touch those memories locked away deep in my mind for a long time, and I’d spent many years trying to find distractions from them, so I hope y’all can find it in your hearts to understand. Until next time, you folks take care of yourselves and one another.