My name is Thomas, and I work as a park ranger in the Pacific Northwest. I grew up exploring the vast, 10-acre property outside the small town where I was born, hiking the backwoods with my dad, and spending nearly every minute of my childhood outdoors, which made me appreciate the outstanding beauty of the outdoors. That being said, my love for the outdoors led me to pursue a career as a park ranger. I adore every minute of being stationed in the forests of British Columbia. I won’t mention my exact location for administrative reasons.
As a park ranger, my job revolves around monitoring potentially dangerous wildlife and trail conditions, which I take seriously. On my third day on the job, it all started. It was a brisk March evening, and I was still nervous and anxious to impress my fellow rangers and supervisors. I offered to take extra overtime since I was the youngest and most ambitious Ranger.
As the comforting sun set over the tree line, I walked to the cabin to prepare for the night shift. I got to work performing my duties, most of which consisted of typical administrative work. However, things started to take a strange turn when I heard the unmistakable sound of a tap on the glass window behind me. I shrugged it off, thinking it was an animal causing a ruckus outside. I decided to listen to a podcast on Spotify while sorting through files on my desk to drown out any unwanted noise.
Fifteen minutes later, what sounded like a rock hit the window. I started to grow frustrated. I assumed some of the older rangers were playing a prank on the new guy, so I clicked my walkie and jokingly told them to head home since it was past their bedtime. I expected a reply, but I heard nothing. I thought they might have left their radios off and got back to work, but a couple of minutes later, I heard a knock on the hut door.
Curious, I got up from my desk and opened the door. No one. I decided to venture into the darkness to see if someone needed help or if one of my coworkers had forgotten something. While walking across the forest floor, I heard the unmistakable sound of twigs snapping to my right. I turned to see a figure out of sight. I was unable to see their face. I called out to them, offering my help as a park ranger, but received no reply.
Despite the growing unease, I maintained my composure and tried to rationalize the situation. However, the woods grew quiet, and a pungent, unpleasant odour filled the air, causing my heart to race with fear. It was a feeling I had never experienced before, and a sense of dread settled in my stomach.
Just as I had finished my thought, my flashlight lit up the figure. A tall man stood in front of me, an abnormally large grin across his face. He had no eyes. Realizing that whatever the figure was, they clearly didn’t need my help, I rushed back to the ranger hut and shut the door, feeling both unnerved and confused.
At first, I shook it off as first-week stress, thinking my eyes had been playing tricks on me. I finished my shift with no further issues. However, after that encounter, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone was watching me. Throughout my next few shifts, I would catch glimpses of a man in the woods, always with a wide, unsettling grin on his face. The animals would go quiet, and the smell would return. It was like he was taunting me, always just out of reach.
In need of a break, I decided to spend my weekend on a solo camping trip closer to my hometown. After setting up camp, I sat by the crackling campfire, hoping to unwind after the intense first few weeks. The dancing flames cast eerie shadows around me, creating a sense of both comfort and unease.
Suddenly, I heard slow and deliberate footsteps drawing nearer. I looked up and there he stood, right in front of me. Questions raced through my mind—how had he found me? Had he followed me from my workplace back to my hometown? As terror gripped me, I couldn’t understand why my body refused to respond to my frantic commands. I felt paralyzed, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest.
The grinning stranger said nothing, his unsettling grin fixed upon me. The air turned foul; an overpowering stench that made me feel suffocated. I desperately tried to move, to escape, but my legs were locked in place, unyielding to my will. Fear consumed me as I reached for my bear spray, fumbling for any means of protection. Tears welled up in my eyes as I braced myself for the worst.
Just as panic threatened to consume me entirely, he turned and silently walked away, vanishing into the darkness of the night. Since that chilling encounter, I haven’t seen him again, but I can’t shake the feeling that this won’t be our last meeting. I continue my work as a park ranger, but now I’m constantly vigilant, always casting wary glances over my shoulder. I may not know what the grinning stranger truly was, but one thing is certain—that ‘thing’ was not human.