My parents told me never to go near the crying in the forest. I always thought it was a mountain lion or something, but I was wrong.
Growing up in a rural town, there were a few things that always remained certain: a snowy winter makes for a short fire season, the fair’s always the sixth of June and December seventh, and the importance of being safe and aware of wild animals.
Last night I was splitting rounds, with my dog Chief when he just froze and stared at the treeline. Now you should know that Chief is a seasoned hunting dog and isn’t gun shy. I asked him, “Do you see something boy?”
Chief only cocked his head left and then right. It was like he was picking a safe listening to the tumblers. “What is it boy?”
Chief’s fur stood up on end and he began to snarl and bark. “What’s gotten into you?”
Before I could grab his collar Chief darted to the tree line. I yelled for him to come back. Chief had amazing recall, and even when he was a puppy he knew to come back when I called. I wasn’t about to go into the woods unprepared, but I didn’t have much time. I sprinted into the house, grabbed my hunting rifle from the closet, a flashlight, Chief’s leash, and shot a text to the sheriff to let him know I was going into the woods to grab Chief.
Rifle slung over my shoulder, I began navigating my way into the woods. I called for Chief and was only answered by my echo. I must have run two miles when I heard it. It sounded like crying.
My heart began pounding, I began shouting Chief’s name at a higher frequency. Between the shouts, the only thing I could hear were my frantic footsteps and the crying. Then a familiar sound cut through the panic. It was weak whimpering, it had to be Chief. I began shouting for Chief and followed the whimpering. It was getting louder, but so was the crying.
That’s when I saw Chief, his tail tucked and trembling. Relief washed over me as I rushed over to him. I clipped the leash to his collar, he didn’t move he just whimpered and stared straight ahead. I couldn’t see anything, but the crying was close. I raised my flashlight, and there it was…
A great sickly tree loomed before me, its gnarled branches twisted like skeletal claws reaching out to ensnare unwitting prey. Faces, grotesque and contorted, protruded from the bark, their expressions frozen in eternal agony. As I shone my flashlight upon it, patches of decaying flesh hung from the tree like grotesque ornaments. I could feel the hairs rise on my neck when one of the face’s eyes ticked and noticed me. It whispered, “Please don’t go.”
Frozen with fear, I clutched Chief’s leash tightly, my mind reeling at the horrifying sight before me. A sudden gust of wind stirred the air, sending a chill down my spine, and in that moment, the forest erupted with deafening shrieks from the twisted faces on the tree. Without a second thought, I yanked on Chief’s leash, my heart pounding in my chest, and we fled, the cries of the faces fading into the distance as we sprinted away.
As we ran, the dancing of red and blue lights pierced through the darkness. Relief flooded my veins at the sight of safety through the night. Sheriff James sat on the porch and greeted us with, “How far did he go?”
“I- I don’t know two miles or so,” I wasn’t thinking straight I was to busy trying to catch my breath.
Sheriff James posture shifted and he leaned in and asked. “What did the tree say?”