I need to start this by leaving a disclaimer. This story is not my own, but rather the story of a man named Aaron Schultz, who I knew as my mentor and my friend. He was a pillar of wisdom and strength, and I could always rely on him to help me when things got tough. He helped me grow into the man I am today, and I will be forever thankful for that. It was a source of bottomless and bitter pain for me when he passed away, and I am tearing up even now as I write this.
In order to preface this, I think it is only fair that I tell you about the man who lived through the events I am about to describe. Aaron was a large man with a very quiet and thoughtful demeanor. He often had a distant look in his eye, as though he were in some other world, and I always wondered what thoughts were going through his mind in those moments. He could always be relied on though, and his steadfast devotion to those he loved was his defining characteristic.
I met Aaron during the worst time of my life. I had recently completed my tour of duty in the Marine Corps and came upon hard times. Due to a series of poor choices and the shock of entering the civilian world, I found myself homeless. My only possessions were a ratty old blanket and the clothes on my back. One morning as I was sitting under an overpass trying to get out of the rain, a white pickup truck pulled up beside me and the passenger side window rolled down. Inside sat a middle-aged man who wore a long white and red beard, and a kind smile on his weathered face. I was expecting to be berated for my predicament, but for the first time in months I was shown kindness.
That day Aaron invited me to come work for him in exchange for a place to live and food to eat. The work was hard, and I earned everything he ever gave me, but he became like a father to me, and he taught me what it looked like to be a genuine person. Eventually I was able to get back on my feet, and I even met and married my wife, and soon after we had my oldest son, Ty. My kids grew up knowing Aaron as grandpa, and he adored them. Every weekend he made it a point to come and take me and my boys fishing on his property in the woods outside of town.
About a year ago I got out of work early, and he invited me to sit on his porch swing and drink some iced tea. The sunset that night was especially gorgeous as it reflected off the calm lakefront in front of his home. The birds were singing pretty melodies as the sun went down and the crickets were beginning to sing their evening chorus. Aaron sat silently for awhile before looking at me and saying, “I’m proud of you son.” I think I just mumbled a little thank you, but I was too distracted watching the sun set to pay attention. After the sun had gone down and it was dark out, I looked over at Aaron. He was leaning back with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, but the steady rise and fall of his chest was absent.
The man I called my father died beside me that day. It still hurts me to think about how I brushed off his conversation. There is so much I wish I would have said and done, but I didn’t. The impression that Aaron left on me will never fade, and I strive every day to be a tenth of the man that he was. I fail daily, but I keep going to honor his memory.
He left us his property and his business in his will before he passed. My wife and I decided to move our family into his house recently, and that has forced me to go through his old belongings. Aaron didn’t own a whole lot of material items. He saw value in people and memories, so he never invested much in items, which made cleaning out the house much easier. While I was cleaning his room, I found a box of old journals and decided to read them. It brought a smile to my face reading about how he felt about me and my family, or reading about his life before we met. When I got to the bottom of the box though, I found a journal that changed my view of Aaron forever.
The story within would seem impossible if it came from anyone but him. I have thought long and hard about whether to share it and have decided that it would be wrong to keep it hidden. In order to honor Aaron, I have decided that this story needs to be seen by the world. Please go into this with an open mind. This isn’t just some fiction, but the story of a man who was larger than life. It would be disrespectful not to try to summarize it in my own words, so I am just going to transcribe the journal below.
ENTRY 1
I’m not sure how to write a journal, but people keep telling me that maybe it will help me sort out my thoughts and feelings. I guess it doesn’t matter, but for the record, my name is Aaron Schultz Jr. I am 20 years old, as sad as a wet kitten, and unsure of why I’m writing any of this down in the first place.
I guess I should just start by talking about my day. That’s what most people do, I think. I woke up around five this morning and my window was open; I could hear the birds singing and smell the dew on the grass, it was a pleasant smell.
I got dressed and went downstairs and saw that mom was already awake. It looked like she had been crying. She does that a lot now, since dad had his stroke. It’s been hard on all of us. I had to leave college a semester early to come home and take care of things around the farm since dad was too sick to do it anymore.
I told momma good morning and went to the kitchen to grab some breakfast. The cupboards were sparse, so I settled on a spam sandwich. It made me think of the times dad and I went fishing together before he had his stroke.
After I finished my sandwich, I went and put on my work boots to go outside and feed the cattle. It would have been a nice morning except for the circumstances surrounding it. It didn’t help that I woke up with a headache. I’ve been getting a lot of those lately; I haven’t told mom though because I don’t want her to worry about me.
My day was boring overall, filled with the boring day to day chores of living on a farm. I used to enjoy this life, but it’s not the same anymore now that dad is bedridden. I just can’t stop thinking about how things used to be before the stroke. It hurts to do the things we used to do together before.
I better end this entry here; I need to get to sleep. I am going to have a busy day tomorrow, the skies are looking real eerie to the east. There is a lot I need to do before the storm.
ENTRY 2
Today was chaotic. I had to move all the cattle into the corral before the storm hit, and that took most of the morning. I moved all the tractors into the barn and made sure to cover the hay, so it doesn’t get moldy. The skies are looking ugly so I’m a little worried about the corn crop we just planted. Hopefully there’s no hail.
I visited dad after I finished preparing for the storm. It broke my heart to see him laying there in confusion. He hardly looked like the same man who raised me. His face was all droopy, and he was drooling. I wouldn’t look away; it would’ve been shameful to look away from him.
My head started hurting bad when I got into the room. It felt like something pushing hard against the back of my brain. I couldn’t stay with dad for long. I don’t know which pain was worse, the headache, or seeing my father in the state he was in. When I left the room, my head hurt a little less, so I’m wondering if these headaches aren’t from the stress of everything going on.
The storm is starting to hit. Right now, it’s just a trickle, but I think I better go. I need to be with mom in case things get bad. I might have to help move dad down to the storm shelter.
ENTRY 3
The storm came hard late last night, it sounded like there was screams in the wind. It’s still dark out, and the rain is still coming down hard. It sounds like a thousand little animals crawling on the roof.
We got a knock on the door around one in the morning, it was Dan and his family. The road to their farm was flooded so they came to see if we would be willing to take them in until the storm passed. Of course, we accepted, and I gave Dan and his wife my room. His three kids, David, Jacob, and Sarah got sleeping bags and slept in the living room by the fireplace.
I’m sitting on the couch watching the fire. I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. There is something strange about the storm. I swear I hear screams in the wind. Dan and his kids seemed scared of something when they came in. I locked the door after everyone went to sleep, and I closed all the blinds. I swear I can hear tapping on the window by the door. It might just be rain, but it seems frantic and out of step with the pitter pater of rain drops.
I need to try to sleep, my head is hurting again, and I think I might be a little paranoid. I am going to talk to Dan in the morning.
ENTRY 4
I didn’t even have to approach Dan in the morning. He woke me up after I had just fallen asleep. Putting a finger to his lips he signaled for me to be quiet and to follow him. I got up as quietly as I could and followed him into the kitchen, closing the door behind me. He walked to the sink and opened the curtain a little before beckoning for me to look out the window at something in the yard. In between flashes of lightning, I could see something sleek and black, about the size of a man. It was sat back on dog like haunches chewing on something with its long glistening silver fangs. Its head looked like a bear skull, and its leathery skin had small tufts of fur poking out at random spots. My immediate thought was that it was some mangled bear that had been struck by lighting and I voiced my thoughts to Dan.
“I thought the same thing,” he whispered in a hushed tone, “but while we were driving here two of them were running behind the car.” He looked down and shook his head, “they didn’t run like animals, they ran like men.” I stared at him incredulously, my eyes growing wide with shock. “Do you think they followed you here?” He nodded solemnly, and fear showed in his eyes.
“We need to chase them off, I don’t know what they are, but I don’t want one breaking a window and taking off with one of the kids.” I thought for a moment and concluded that he was right. “Come with me, I know dad has a couple rifles upstairs, its better that we both be armed to deal with whatever these things are.” He nodded his head in agreement before looking back out. His eyes grew wide, and he turned back to me saying, “Its gone.”
We rushed up stairs and grabbed a couple rifles before heading downstairs. I put on my heavy raincoat and made sure we had enough ammunition between us to take care of whatever these things were. Dan’s wife, Alice, was standing by the stairs when we walked out. “What’s going on?” she asked in a fearful tone when her eyes rested on our weapons. Dan just looked at her and said, “Get Aaron’s mom and the kids and take them to the basement, lock the door behind you, call the sheriff and don’t leave unless one of us comes to get you.”
I don’t know if Alice heard the seriousness in his tone, or if she just instinctively listened, but without another word she got to work. Dan and I moved down the stairs, and with a quick nod to me, he opened the door, and I brought my rifle up expecting the creature to be on the other side. There was nothing there but wind and rain. I turned on my flashlight and walked cautiously out of the door. Every howl of wind and rustling branch caused me to jerk my rifle towards the noise.
I looked at the older man behind me and yelled through the rain, “Let’s check the Corrals.” He gave me a thumbs up and said “Lets stick together, I don’t want one of those things to catch us alone.” He brought up his rifle and scanned the area around us with the keen observance that is common in all of the Vietnam veterans I know. I let him take the lead and we walked to the corrals.
It was quiet which was strange to me. Usually, the cattle were restless in storms like these. I didn’t hear anything, and my flashlight didn’t catch the glow of any of the cattle’s eyes. A deep unease began to wiggle itself into the back of my mind. I knew that whatever happened had something to do with the creatures.
As I was busy scanning the area, I heard a gasp from Dan, and turned to see him with his flashlight pointed at a heaping pile of gore. My stomach dropped. Illuminated by our flashlights were the bloody remains of what was once twenty head of cattle. The carnage was unlike anything I have ever seen. Even Dan seemed shocked, and he had seen combat more times than he could count.
The cattle hadn’t just been killed, but it looked like something had torn through them with reckless abandon. There was bits of them scattered all around, and what remained was almost unrecognizable save for the occasional hoof or the vacant, terrified eyes that stares at us. My heart beat hard and fast and I immediately knew that whatever these creatures were, we wouldn’t stand a chance against them.
Dan seemed to realize the same thing almost immediately, and we locked eyes for a moment before we turned to run to the house. Loud screeches filled the night around us and the sound of heavy feet pounding behind us. I didn’t dare look back, knowing that I would be face to face with my nightmares incarnate.
I ran as fast as I possibly could. My heart raced with adrenaline, and the fire of exertion burned in my chest. Spots danced in front of my eyes. A dark presence enveloped me like a thick wet blanket, suffocating me, and making it hard for me to move. I knew I wouldn’t make it to the house before the creature caught up to me. I yelled out to Dan but noticed that I could no longer see him in the darkness.
I thought I could hear a baby crying, but it was lost in the fog that was clouding my mind. It beckoned for me to just give up. To turn around and accept my fate in the beast’s jaws. A sharp pain in my head broke me from my stupor, and I turned towards the barn which was closer to me than the house. I could still hear the pounding of heavy footsteps, accompanied by animalistic breathing.
I made it to the barn door which I quickly unlatched. I ran in and closed it behind me as quickly as I could. The creature slammed up against it and I could hear the wood cracking against the creature’s weight. I knew the door wouldn’t hold long, so I looked for a place to hide. My eyes settled on the barn cellar, a thick oak door that led down to a small concrete room that we used to store preserved food. It would have to work.
I sprinted to the door and flung it open, practically throwing myself down the stairs and barely taking enough time to close the door behind me. When I got down, I unslung my rifle and hid in the corner between two shelves, praying that the creature wouldn’t find me.
Upstairs I heard wood shattering as the creature barreled through the door. The beast’s heavy footsteps crunched in the dirt near the door, and I held my breath hoping that it wouldn’t hear me. It sniffed at the door a few times, and let out a sound that I can only describe as the agonized moan of a man in pain mixed with the dying scream of a bear. It beat against the door, and I knew that sooner or later the creature would get in. I chambered a round and the sound of movement seemed to reinvigorate whatever the thing was. Within moments the wooden door was reduced to rubble, and the thing was inside.
It walked down the steps with carefully measured steps and its black eyes scanned the room with a mad hunger before resting on me. Without a second thought I leveled my rifle and fired into its face. Its head snapped back and it fell to the ground where it lay motionless.
I sat for what must have been five minutes staring at the thing incredulously. In the distance I could hear more far off moans coming from creatures all around. I needed to get back to the house.
I shouldered my rifle and began to move past the creature. It sprang to life and made what I could only assume was a chuckling sound. It had just been toying with me. I jumped back as it swatted at me with a massive, clawed hand. I knew I didn’t stand a chance against this thing in close quarters. I was trapped. The thing pounced on me and bore me down to the ground. Its claw pierced my skin, and its weight forced the breath out of my lungs. I could feel its hot, fetid breath on my cheek. The force of the creature knocking me over mixed with the smell of its breath caused me to vomit.
The thing sat there on top of me and if it could make facial expressions I would guess it was looking at me with the sadistic glee of a little boy burning ants with a magnifying glass. I heaved upwards with my hips to shake the thing, but it was too heavy. My movement only made the creature angry, and it tore at my shoulder with its teeth, causing me to cry out in pain. The sound of my cry seemed to please the thing, and it backed off of me.
I immediately crawled towards the stairs, trying to escape the thing, and made it to the second step before it was on me again. This time it was on my back, and it raked its long claws down my spine. I screamed again, but it stayed on top of me. Its bony muzzle emitted a gleeful and guttural chuckle next to my ear. My suffering pleased it.
I threw my elbow back and it connected with the things ribcage, but it did little more than elicit another bite to my shoulder. My wounds burned with unimaginable pain and I groaned in agony. The thing on top of me groaned in an unnatural mockery of my voice. It was enjoying this.
My head was filled with a sudden pain that caused spots to fill my vision. The creature on top of me suddenly yelped and backed off of me like I had caused some grievous wound to it. I remember turning over to see it backing into the corner away from something behind me, and when I looked I saw something that I can’t make sense of.
Dad was stumbling towards me, slack jawed and drooling from the side of his mouth. His bad eye sagged, but in his good eye all I could see was an inky darkness. I don’t know what happened next, because the pain caused me to black out.
I woke up in the house about an hour ago. My wounds were bandaged up and mom was sitting beside me with a worried look on her face. She told me that the damage isn’t bad as it feels. When I asked what happened, mom told me that Dan had brought me in bleeding and delirious.
Dad is sitting in his chair across the room, catatonic. His good eye is staring blankly at the wall, and according to mom he was inside the whole time. I must have been hallucinating because of the pain.
Its ten in the morning right now and the sun hasn’t risen. We can still hear those things out in the distance, but for now we are safe. We don’t dare turn the lights on for fear of attracting whatever is out there. I’m writing this by the light of a lamp in the basement. Alice called the sheriff, but he never came. I wonder if he fell victim to the creatures.
My injuries are really hurting right now, I think I am going to take a nap. I will write more in this journal as things progress. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’ll deal with it when my thoughts are fresh and I’m rested up.”
END OF PART ONE
I’ve decided to transcribe this in parts due to how much there is to write. I will try to update you with the rest of this as soon as possible, but right now I need to help my wife clean out the rest of the house. I hope that you all can help me make sense of this.