I’m sort of a nature guy. I say sort of because I’m not a “nature” nature guy, but I spend a considerable amount of time outside. It’s mostly downloading music and going for hikes in my area, that sort of nature guy. That is why I consider myself fortunate that my backyard borders miles of forest. This is fortunate because I live in a very suburban area where most people are rationed only a few feet of neatly groomed “yard”.
My backyard isn’t large but once I cross the threshold of brush and trees, I’m met with unearthed stones that create mock-canyons. I get to walk along skinny, running creeks of water. Some of the rock formations are so colossal the area where the rock meets the soil juts up and forms overhangs that I can sit under to get out of the heat. It really is a gift to have all of this behind my house.
I had never had a reason to feel anything but serenity out there, but as of a few months ago that serenity has taken on the guise of uneasy anticipation that something horrible happened out there.
About three months ago I went as deep into the woods as I had ever gone. I probably made my way through the trail-less woods for about three hours. I was following a creek that was a stone or two away from being dammed up, but it muscled on anyway when something caught my attention. There was the base of a man-made stone structure
I went over to investigate. The structure was a dark-gray rock that had patches of green moss running up it. I thought to myself that it must have been an old fire pit or maybe a well of sorts, but what the hell did I know. There was no one around for miles so the structure had to be really old. I was about to keep on following the creek when it clicked with me. The structure was a chimney, the top of a chimney.
At first I was in disbelief, there was no way it could be that. I started to dig away at the base of the chimney and it kept on revealing more and more chimney no matter how much dirt I moved away. I eventually got down on my knees and started moving the dirt away using a nearby rock to break it up. I went on, strangely invested in seeing its end when I struck roof shingles. Yes, a few inches below the dirt where the roof shingles.
I didn’t know whether to think it was cool or terrifying, I hadn’t decided yet. I did know that I was going to come back with some towels and move more dirt away, because at the time I hadn’t been completely freaked.
The next weekend I hiked back out to the house. The house had been on my mind almost obsessively. I made my way out with a newly bought pickaxe, and a shovel from my garage. After a pretty rough few hours I made it to the house. I was able to remember its location using the creek as a guiding reference.
For the rest of the day I dug at the ground at a grueling pace, yet sure enough a full size roof was being revealed. When I had just enough time to make it back before sundown I decided to go back home, but I left the tools propped up on the chimney.
I was exhausted and drinking some water I had brought when I noticed how eerily quiet everything was. No animal chatter, no wind, just the persistent trickle of the creek. No, there was one more sound. It was muffled, but I followed it. It was a radio, and it was coming from the house.
I pressed up against the roof and listened hard. The hum of a radio could be heard inside the house. Someone had to be living inside the house. I suddenly felt a sense of dread. I felt a sense of being miles from home and potentially not alone. I left immediately and made a leg-numbing trek back to my house.
About two months later I went back one last time. Curiosity got the best of me, and I wish I could say that I was smart and forgot about it, but come on, could you forget about this?
I made it out to the house. It was the exact same way I’d left it, tools and all. There was no radio playing though. I had gone out there early so I had time. I got to work on digging out the roof. I dug a pathway to the edge of where I thought the roof would be so I could dig down the side of the house. Relatively quickly I made it to the edge, and began down. I worked fervently and with great focus until I had about an inch of window exposed. I stuck my head into the hole to press up against the tiny sliver of the window but I couldn’t make out anything. I dug for nearly an hour more until I had the window almost completely exposed. I pushed up on the window and to my surprise it slid open with ease as if it were new. The earth I was laying in fell away and I tumbled down into the house.
It was dark, but my eyes were adjusting. I sat up. The light outside illuminated the room a bit and to my shock the whole house was completely furnished and seemed like it was lived in and managed. The room I was in must’ve been a guest room. It was decorated in a very 2000’s era fashion. Somehow the house had airflow too, and with my eyes now adjusted I made my way to the bedroom door. I grabbed the knob and slowly turned it. The door didn’t even creak as I peeked into the hallway. I couldn’t see much but I heard something. This time it wasn’t a radio, it was someone crying.
The hallway had a off-white colored carpet flooring and a wooden staircase that led to the presumed first floor. Down the stairs I could hear the gentle cries of a woman. I froze up. I wanted to call out for her, but I knew I had crossed a personal boundary of mine hours ago when I decided to come out here. I must’ve been locked up for a minute or so when a new sound was born, footsteps, and they were coming up the stairs fast.
I quickly shut the door, and made a hard turn towards the window. I scrambled anxiously up the dirt mound that had let itself into the room through the window. Whatever was coming after me had opened the door and was gaining on me, but did not make a sound besides the heavy footsteps. I got out the window and slid it shut right as something pounded up against it, the whole time the woman downstairs never stopped crying. I didn’t stop. I climbed out of the hole and tore off through the woods. The whole way back I felt followed by a sense of hopelessness and dread.
I don’t remember much from the run back, but when I got home I passed out on my couch. I woke up a few hours later, and the sun had set. I locked all of my doors and window, scared that thing from the house would follow me, and then took a shower.
As of now nothing more has come of the house. I did call the police and reported the incident about a week ago, so I expect to hopefully hear from them soon. The uneasiness of my experience with that house has kept me out of those woods for good. In fact, I have kind of taken a hiatus on hiking alone. If there are ever updates I can let you all know, but for now that is everything.