I moved to Piney Point in 1995, shortly after my marriage fell apart. I was already drifting away from my wife, working a brutal corporate job that dulls your capacity for affection. Then my dad fell ill in Houston, and we moved back to Texas to help him see out his last days in dignity. He soon passed, leaving me behind a row house in East Texas and two unopened bottles of Oxycodone. Pretty soon, I was lost at sea. I hardly even remember signing the papers, but I don’t blame her for leaving. Those little blue pills will snatch away a piece of your soul.
I eventually got clean and moved away, figuring the shack my father gifted me would help me disappear. I needed to leave the world, just for a while at least. The rest of my life began that day.
Piney Point’s a tiny, mundane town surrounded by endless acres of the East Texas forest. Folks around here call the woods “The Big Thicket,” which stretches over 54,000 miles across five states. I found my sense of purpose in the Big Thicket. Exploring the woods teeming with nature slowly brought me back to life. The townies teased me about spending so much time there, jokingly referring to me as the “Forest Ranger” even though I worked at the local bank.
What makes our neck of the woods so special is that we have a specific species of Lyrebirds. You can find Lyrebirds all over North America, but those living here are native to Australia. The founder of this town, Leamon Tuttle, brought the superb fowl back to Texas after spending some time in the Outback. He raised them on his property, and they were carelessly released into the wild after he passed, soon becoming almost invasive. I love the birds. My house is filled with drawings of them, puffing out their tails shaped like Apollo’s golden lute.
If you don’t know about them, Lyrebirds are amazing creatures. First, they’ve been around for fifteen million years, practically making them living dinosaurs. Secondly, they can mimic almost any sound. Most of the time, they copy the sounds of other birds to attract mates, but they’ve also been observed mimicking human sounds. They sing car alarms, chainsaws, and can even pick up remnants of conversations from human passerbys.
I walk on the trails during my lunch break every afternoon to reset my brain for the day. It also helps me power through any stress I might be having. Even though I’ve been sober for almost thirty years, unresolved tension can move the needle toward falling off the wagon. I am not going through opioid withdrawal ever again.
During this walk, I heard an exciting call that resembled a kookaburra’s. Kookaburras don’t reside anywhere else, but in Australia and New Guinea, so it had to have been a Lyrebird. I was in awe that the Lyrebirds remembered one of their long-lost cousins from the homeland. I sat on a nearby stump to take in the sounds of nature when I suddenly heard a human voice.
“I SEE YOU!”
I whipped around, looking for the culprit, only to see a large male Lyrebird nipping into the ground for bugs. He perched his head up and sang his cry again.
“i sEe YoU!” The song now sounded more like it came from a bird, without a human’s cadence. It must have been a younger male, still working on his craft. I studied the bird for a bit when I heard a louder call.
“whY arE YoU RuNNiNg FrOM mE?”
I was so startled I nearly jumped out of my boots. Another Lyrebird sauntered by echoing the same call before switching to the sound of a woodpecker. I composed myself and then continued on the trail, realizing I was late for work. The calls were definitely copied from a human’s voice, but looking back, they didn’t really sound human. The voice was deeper and more visceral. I began to feel unsettled and hurried back to my office, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease until I got ready for bed. Were the birds talking to me? Was it someone else?
The following day was Saturday, which meant I was going on a longer hike. One of my coworkers said they ran into an alligator, so I was interested in spotting the elusive creature to draw in my trailbook. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, but the woods felt unusually sleepy. I followed my coworker’s directions to carefully reach the alligator habitat when I suddenly heard another voice.
‘HELP!”
I froze. It sounded like a young girl’s voice and couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away. My eyes darted around, looking to find the noise source, but I saw nothing but endless trees. That’s when I heard it again.
“SOMEBODY HELP ME!”
I sprinted north toward the voice, borrowing through the pines and bushes, not even wincing when thorns dug into my skin. “Hello!?” I screamed. Nothing called back in response. “Where are you!?” I yelled, frantically looking around.
“PLEASE! IT’S GOING TO GET ME!”
I ran harder than ever before until I lost my footing and tripped over a tree root. I tumbled forward, feeling the earth cut, gnaw, and scrape at my skin. My glasses were knocked off my head, and I fumbled around on the damp ground looking for them. I put them on and found myself in an area of the forest I’d never seen before.
It was a beautiful meadow surrounded by pine trees, even more prominent than the ones I was used to. White dogwood flowers covered the ground, and American beautyberry bushes were everywhere. How had I never seen this place before?
In the middle of the meadow was an ancient-looking stone cross covered in moss. I could faintly hear the sound of rushing water in the distance, but other than that, the field was silent. It was strange how quiet it was in a place usually teeming with nature. I could almost hear my organs working to keep me alive. I walked to the cross to study it when I heard the voice again.
“HELP ME, PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU.”
I quickly turned around, none other to see a Lyrebird trotting in the distance. The Lyrebird perched its head up and whistled again, nipping at the ground for a worm. I shook my head in disbelief and walked toward the stone cross, hoping to find my way out of the forest.
“FOUND YOU!”
I darted around to look at the Lyrbird. It was the same disembodied voice from yesterday, though it sounded far more coherent.
“FOUND YOU!” The voice cried again. But to my horror, the sound wasn’t coming from the bird who was now gone. I whipped around but just saw an open field. I had never felt more alone in my entire life.
“found you…” The voice said again, only this time it was whispering in my ear. I bolted, running on a path toward nowhere, desperately trying to get back home. The sounds of bird calls grew louder, and I felt like the forest was screaming at me to leave forever. I somehow, miraculously, made it back home to my house.
I threw my stuff down and made a call to the sheriff. Something terrible had happened, and someone was in trouble that I knew. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but whatever it was, the Lyrebirds picked it up. The Sheriff, someone I knew personally, said he would be right over to take down my statement. I waited by the door, feeling like a nervous wreck.
Sheriff Hodge knocked on my door, but I was startled to see the local family doctor, Bill Taylor, with him. Sheriff Hodge and Dr. Taylor weren’t interested in my statement. They were there to do a welfare check on me. I was adamant that they were wasting time talking to me and needed to send a search team out there immediately. “Well, Carl, how do you know someone is in danger?” Sherriff Hodge cautiously asked me.
“The birds told me!” I yelled but soon realized how ridiculous that sounded. I tried to explain about the Lyrebirds picking up what happened, but Dr. Taylor peppered me with questions about my own mental well-being. I grew frustrated and lunged at him, only to be taken to the ground by Sherriff Hodge. Another officer came to put me in cuffs, and I found myself first in the back of a squad car and then in a small holding cell.
Another doctor came to talk to me, asking me pointed questions about the voices I heard and referencing my psychological file. Yes, I was aware I used to be addicted to opioids. Yes, I suffered from terrible withdrawal symptoms. Yes, I experienced feelings of…..psychosis. No, I had not been experiencing those symptoms again. No, I was not using again. Yes, I think someone is in danger. YES, IT WAS BECAUSE THE BIRDS TOLD ME. NO, I WILL NOT CALM DOWN. SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED IN THE WOODS. WHAT ARE YOU INJECTING INTO ME?
Darkness. Then bliss. I felt myself being rocked slowly to sanity by whatever tranquilizer they gave me. I remembered this feeling all too well. Dr. Taylor refused to press charges against me if I promised to see a shrink. The other doctor, whose name I don’t recall, gave me a prescription for anti-psychotics. I was escorted back home and drifted off into sleep. I dreamt of that meadow, piecing together in my dream that it was the key to finding out what happened. I just needed to get back there somehow. If the police weren’t going to help me, fine. FINE!
I’ll find that girl myself, even if I have to camp in the woods.
I made preparations, bought a new tent, and started the hike. I will find out just what the hell is going on here. I’ve brought my laptop to document what I find, just in case something happens to me.
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It’s been about three hours, and I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I’m lost. I’ve taken several trails and gone off the beaten path, but I can’t find this damn meadow anywhere. I accidentally stumbled upon it, but I’ve lost my bearings entirely. Maybe I need to call off this search and head home. I can try again tomorrow.
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It’s getting dark, and I’m starting to get anxious. I can’t even find the way back to my own house! I’ve combed these woods for almost thirty years, yet I’m literally running in circles. Is this the trail back? No, that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve gone that way already. It’s strange how quiet it is out here….not even the Lyrebirds are singing their songs today. Wait, was that someone in the distance running through the trees? Better go flag them down.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
It’s pitch black out now, and I can’t believe I forgot a damn flashlight. I lost that figure running through the woods, and now I’m even more lost. Jesus Christ, it’s so dark out here. I’ve hunkered down in my tent. The new day will get me back home. I’m never coming back here alone at night again.
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“HELP!!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!!!! IS ANYONE OUT HERE….HELP!!!!”
The Lyrebirds are singing again. The song is different this time….so familiar….so close…… But I’m not unzipping this tent.
“HELP ME PLEASE!!!!!! OH GOD, IT’S COMING……HELP…..”
The voice is getting even louder like it’s sprinting toward me. I’ve plugged my ears, but it sounds like it’s inside my brain. The voice….it’s…..it’s…..
It’s mine.
….help me please.