I’m no adventurer. I usually go on longer walks in video games than I do in real life. But the solitude of the local ravine is addicting. As soon as you step past the treeline of the forest, you can hear the freshwater trickling past rocks and drowned branches. You can hear the the croaking of frogs, as well as the repetitious calls of birds in the trees. This time, though, I also heard the cries of a man. Not cries of joy or happiness, but of desperation and anger.
They were faint at first; nearly imperceptible. It was around 8 PM yesterday and I was sitting in one of my usual spots, watching the sky change from orange to red as the sun ducked behind the mountains. Behind the cover of the running stream and the noise produced by the fauna, I thought I could hear something… off. Something distinctly human.
I focused and held my breath to try and isolate the layers of the ambient noise. Frogs, mosquitoes, rushing water, wind, and… a man yelling? It blended in and out with the rest of the sounds. I headed in the direction that I figured it was most likely coming from.
The yelling really started to ride the evening wind as I walked due east. Whatever was making this sound wailed as if it was dying. I slowed my pace instinctively as I thought about what I was doing. “Don’t look for trouble if it’s not looking for you,” my mind bugged me. But as the bloodcurdling cries grew more frequent, my morbid curiosity got the best of me. I continued advancing.
The cries grew extremely loud as I happened upon a small clearing in the forest a couple of minutes later. I ducked behind some shrubbery at the edge of the clearing and observed.
The screams were coming from the gaping mouth of an old man in the middle of the clearing. He was wearing a torn pair of boxers that looked like they hadn’t been washed in ages, but nothing else. It was bizarre. He had age spots and wrinkles all over. His skeletal system was frighteningly sculpted by the frail skin that covered it.
What’s more bizarre is that there was nothing else around except for him. The clearing had no trees or plants except for common weeds. No animals, no other humans, nothing. So why this old man was screaming so loudly, or HOW he was still capable of making such sounds was beyond me. I’d place him at around 70 years old minimum.
I watched intently, my adrenaline keeping my muscles fed and ready to run if need be. The more I watched him scream, the more I picked up on his pattern.
The old man would scream several times in one spot, then shift a few meters counterclockwise and resume screaming. He went through a different number of spots each time, and had completed a full rotation in front of me. He wasn’t in any perceivable danger, which left me perplexed as to what he could possibly be doing.
I continued to watch the man howl as the sunlight faded into darkness. He screamed once more at the top of his lungs, before he shifted his position to scream once more. As he did so, he looked up and readied his breath, but stopped suddenly at the sight of the moon. His eyes grew wide and his pupils dilated before he snapped his head back down. His whole body stiffened itself in the blink of an eye. My heart started beating faster in response.
The old man started scanning the clearing in all directions, like a human panopticon tower. His mouth remained open despite him not screaming anymore. The man stood in place, swinging his head 90 degrees to the left, then back to center, then another 90 degrees to the right, then back to center. He turned around about face and did the same thing. I watched for a couple more minutes.
It was clear to me now that what this person was doing was not calling for help, as I initially thought. What he WAS doing was still any one of a number of bizarre things. The screaming may have been territorial, I guess… but why stay out in the night scanning the treeline like that? He’s clearly a target in that position.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard some rustling to the left of me. The old man clearly heard it too, because his head snapped in that direction with his eyes ceasing to blink.
Laughter followed. Through the leaves and branches I could see a couple, both dressed in formal attire, kissing each other clumsily while stumbling towards the clearing. The old man didn’t move.
They stumbled past the treeline and fell onto each other, immediately undressing without a second thought.
The old man was remarkably quiet, but his eyes spoke volumes: these two were not welcome here. I opened my mouth to warn the couple, but I flinched and redirected my attention before sound could be produced.
The old man started clacking what little teeth he had together. Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack. Like a chopping board.
The woman looked up and started to scream upon noticing him, before the old man took one giant leap across the clearing and pounced on them. I watched, frozen in fear, as he bit and ripped and flayed with that fragile frame of his. Not a sound came out of his mouth as he did so.
I got up and ran ASAP, not wanting to stick around and find out what he’d do next. I took off without a second thought, with the adrenaline kicking my legs into high gear. But I could hear clacking behind me. Faster and louder than before.
Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack!
His teeth were in perfect tandem with my steps. I dared not look behind me. I kept running, trying to get my legs to go faster but they just couldn’t. The clacks grew louder as I approached the edge of the forest. I saw streetlights shining between the leaves and branches ahead, while the clacking continued. It was practically in my ear at this point.
I barged out of the treeline and tripped onto my face after a strong heart palpitation. I looked back immediately to find that there was nothing there. Not only that, but the bush was seemingly undisturbed. I didn’t stick around and count my chickens yet.
I rushed back home using my phone as a GPS guide, and finally, FINALLY got back to safety. I stormed in, locked every possible entry to the house, and collapsed on the couch. Nightmares full of that horrible clacking sound disturbed me as I tried to sleep.
My nightmares ended suddenly as I jolted awake. It was morning. I looked around, still on edge, and felt that I was safe. I sank back into the couch with a sigh of relief, and looked out the window at the robins singing in the backyard.
That was when I noticed the muddy handprint at the bottom of the window. Dirt and congealed blood, with just enough force to leave a chip in the window at the heel of the palm.
The cops are on their way as I write this. I won’t end up like that poor couple. And I won’t fall victim to that… thing.