Part I: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1771fhx/muthangas_curse/
How long has it been since that trip? Yes, 7 months and counting. We thought that leaving the forest would rid us of this creature’s enduring threat and move on with our lives, with that incident just being an awesome bedtime story, right? No.
Life has been hitting hard since the moment we returned home as if punishing us for the intrusion. Nowadays, all we talk about is those 3 nights, the Man in the Woods, and that rotten smell of carrion. This cannot go on. I cannot focus on anything except those moments. His voice… indeed. I called my buddies and my brother (we’ll call him Kroft for this story henceforth) to the community park.
This time, once and for all, either we will live or he.
The purpose of the meeting was to discuss a crucial matter that Kroft had been hiding from us since we escaped from the forest. He was carrying a small brown paper bag with him.
The Meeting
After exchanging small talk, the big bro took charge. He asked all of us to relax, which got us a bit worried and then began a long monologue, “ We all know how tired, beaten and traumatized we were after the Muthanga forest incident. Keeping this in mind, I kept one secret from all of you, since talking about it right then would drive you all insane. When I was hunting the intruder, I stumbled upon a manhole in the middle of nowhere. The odour of that imposter was very strong near it. Gathering whatever little faith remained within me, I climbed down the shaft and came into what looked like a sewage system. Breathing was a struggle, yet I had to continue, knowing that the line had been crossed. I walked, and a particular corridor caught my attention. I smelled more of paint than sewage, Strange. Upon closer inspection, I found out that there were many covered canvases, brushes, crayons, markers and other equipment related to painting present in the room. I uncovered the canvases and found these three:
Slim & shady
The Nested Oiran
Acid bath
We stood in double shock, firstly, from the accuracy of the art, which seemed perfectly real, and secondly, from the sheer viciousness of the crime.
Kroft continued, describing each image in vivid detail:“ Wandering around some more, I finally ended up in a large hall, about the size of an Olympic swimming pool. The first thing that caught my attention was a child; hanging from the arch of the hall, from the neck. Froth was oozing out from her mouth and blood from her pants. It seemed like a drill machine had been used to punch holes into her entire body.“ We tried to remain sane. ” The next thing that caught my attention were several bottles, from which a liquid was leaking and corroding the floor. I leaned in to see the bottle properly: Concentrated Sulphuric acid 98% w/w. Close to the bottles was a man(?): dry as a bone, destroyed, ravished. Even after death, his mouth was contorted into a twisted scream, which is perhaps enough to explain his agony. Though his whole body suffered serious burns from acid, his head had taken the most damage.” “That’s acid bath! ” Ayan squealed, already at his breaking point. “Hmm, I didn’t find anything about that 3rd painting, thankfully. ”
This was the situation: the Man In The Woods, is a terrifying serial killer from whom we barely slipped away to safety. His primary motive behind the gruesome killings is to find inspiration from the misery and mimic the people’s pain in his art.
Kroft packed the pictures, and everybody prepared to leave, believing everything was told and discussed.
Everybody except Mannie. Now the problem with Mannie was that he had been in clinical depression since the events of last autumn. No one except us 4 knew about this, and he desperately wanted this to change. All he wanted to do was to go back to that hellhole, kill the beast and resume a boring, simple, but safe life. We weren’t as daring enough to try it and of course, this plan was dismissed. The sheer terror had made him too bold. In reality, though, we three were only acting brave. That is, Mannie wasn’t the only one in the mess. All of us were broken, I was exhibiting all the symptoms ] of trauma. It was just that we couldn’t tell anything to our parents, our fear caused us to believe that spreading information about Death’s ambassador would expose more people to the threat.
Late at night, Kroft finally announced his decision: He would hire a private detective, to explore the forest, search and if possible kill that subhuman. We made some phone calls, and the wait began.
About half an hour later, I got a text from an unknown number:
-Did anybody from this number request a private investigator?
-Yes
-Can you brief me on the situation?
We did
-Alright, all involved parties are requested to be in the community park at 3:30.
-Can we delay the timings to the evening? Don’t you think it will be scorching at 3:30?
-3:30 a.m. sir.
- ……oh. Yeah sounds good.