This is my fourth and final story of events that happened to me over the course of a summer in my home state of Montana. After the events of this part I never experienced anything to this degree again. Of course there were still weird things happening but nothing that could ever compare to what I have already told or what I am about to tell.
Luke was gone. My boyfriend was gone. No matter how hard I tried, I still couldn’t bring myself to cry over his death. It’s like all the tears in my eyes had dried up.
I think it was because I was angry rather than sad. Angry at myself for not telling him while we were safe in my house. Angry at Sarah for dragging me to the woods that day.
Angry at those cloaked things who killed him. I wanted revenge, no, I needed revenge for his death.
I sat in my house on July 15th, staring down at the coffee table. I knew that they were out there and they knew I was in here. I hadn’t gone to work since Luke’s death, or I should say murder, and they had been there, in the trees, the entire time.
Killing him made something in my mind snap.
Without even realizing what I was doing I stormed outside, into the moonlit yard. I was entirely vulnerable to whatever they wanted to do to me. I half hoped they’d kill me like they had killed Luke.
I didn’t say anything as I stood barefoot in my grass, staring into the forest. I was challenging them. I could hear them talking. That same talking I heard when Sarah and I had been looking for that place in the woods. Indistinct and almost animal-like. It sounded like how that man at work had sounded.
In unison they all stepped out of the tree line. There were ten of them. All standing around 6 feet and thin, thin like skeletons.
Just seeing the figures made me want to turn around and run, barricade myself inside and grab my 30-30, but I had to stand my ground for Luke. I had to face these creatures, find out why they were doing what they were.
“What do you want from me?” My voice involuntarily cracked. Facing them was choking me, making me nauseous, they made me feel inferior.
A hot, searing pain struck through my body, sending me to my knees. Some voice in the back of my brain told me they didn’t really want anything, that I was just their toy for the time being. Black spots danced in my vision and they began to step closer towards me.
They wanted to use me. To kill me I think.
Everything began to blur together.
I remember them grabbing me, their hands feeling like ice on my body. Like corpses were gripping my arms, forcing me to move.
Then I remember blinking and being in the woods, not sure how much time had passed or how we were moving as fast as we were. I tried to struggle but that feeling of trying to move through syrup began to happen again. I was too slow to escape even if I could get out of their holds.
Then we were there, the place with the bones. It looked much different in the night, more sinister, even after I had discovered the bones it wasn’t like this.
The flames from the fire reflected off the trees, casting evil looking shadows. Shadows that monsters could hide in. Shadows that these cloaked things created to mask their sins.
The cloaked people filled the clearing, gathered around the fire, some turned to watch as I was brought in.
They threw me down next to the fire pit, the only thing between me and the flames being rocks.
I needed to escape.
One began to speak. Another forcefully grabbed my left arm.
It stopped speaking, there was silence. Then my screams pierced the air.
It forced my hand into the flames, burning my flesh from my bone. It had been the worst pain I had experienced in my life, so excruciating I began to black out again. The figure pulled my hand out of the hell fire and pushed me back towards the crowd.
Before I opened my eyes I could smell dirt and smoke. They were familiar scents from when I was camping as a young kid, playing in the dirt as the adults started a fire to roast marshmallows over.Unfortunately I couldn’t smell marshmallows and I wasn’t a naive 7 year old anymore.
I forced my eyelids open.
I was laying face down in the dirt, the events that I could remember played in my head.
My arms shook and burned as I tried to push myself up. My entire body felt like it was on fire.
I took in my surroundings. It was daylight now, probably early morning. I was at that place still. They were gone and the fire was out.
I glanced down.
I was in the hole where the bones had been, but they weren’t there either. It was almost like I had imagined it all. I knew I hadn’t though. A little smoke was still rising from the fire pit but my hand wasn’t burnt.
I stumbled out of the hole, forcing myself not to become sick.
I held my arms straight out inspecting myself further. Red handprints littered my forearms right where those things were holding me.
My head felt too heavy for my own body.
Was it all in my imagination? Had I walked 12 miles from my house in the dark, barefoot, without realizing what I was doing? I don’t think so.
As I write this I wish I knew what had truly happened that night. Whether it really was a weird cult hiding in the Montana wilderness or my own grief filled delusions.
I haven’t been stalked by their gaze since then though. They no longer hid in the shadows on my property watching my every move and for that I am thankful.
Still, I wonder if they’re out there, hiding deep in the forest away from civilization or maybe even tormenting another poor person, killing their loved ones, driving them insane.
I wish I knew the truth.