Here’s a link to my original post if you want to read it.
I never understood in movies when the senseless main characters return to the haunted house, or try to discover whatever noise they heard. From an audience perspective, you scream and shout at the screen they’re making the worst choice. I believed this until I was standing at the gate of that pond. And now I can say with certainty what common-sense killer is: hope.
You face these things hoping that you’re wrong. That there isn’t the creature under your bed. That hope is flowing through every nerve of your body as you slowly begin to lean towards the floor and reach your hand out. Hope is what turns the flashlight on on your phone as you hope whatever may lurk just passed the bed skirt is allergic to three volts of dim, artificial light. Then the hope freezes once you clutch the bed skirt, ready to see what lies beyond. Schrodinger’s cat has never been so understood as when the monster under your bed both simultaneously exists and doesn’t as you contemplate the bliss of ignorance. Then it’s done. Underneath your bed is empty and you can return your phone to the nightstand and sleep peacefully knowing you’re safe.
This is why I went back. I needed whatever I heard to have some normal explanation and I could continue on peacefully.
I had just gotten off work and was pulling into the main gate, my boyfriend was already asleep because of his early start today. Tomorrow is our shared day off and we want to use it packing and touring our new apartment we recently got approved for. But for tonight, our work was done and we just need to rest up. I pull up to the main gate and the few visitor spots - because I’m not technically on the lease or have a parking spot - are full. I drive to the edge of the complex where the other spots are, and each spot is taken. At this point I’m angry because the only other spots are on the opposite side of the entire complex. I have no other choice, so I park on the complete opposite side of where I need to be.
On the way to our apartment, there’s a small offshoot that can pass by the pond before continuing on in the same direction. I couldn’t tell you why, but something came over me, I just needed to see it. Calm the underlying anxiety and prove to myself that it was nothing. An overreaction and then some neighbor with a hose or something. So I pull off the path and come to the gate. As per usual, the ducks are everywhere: sleeping, quacking, everything the same. It’s starting to become summer and so the frogs are more plentiful and loud, screaming at the top of their lungs. It truly drowns out anything else going on around you.
I scanned the area for any immediate changes, and - to my surprise - it wasn’t hard to notice a change. Off-center of the pond there was a small bubbling, like water in a rolling boil. I could hear the water bubbling from the sidewalk, even above the sea of croaking. The crunching of the grass beneath my feet as I stepped closer was even muffled by the noise around me, but I could still hear the water. I tried to peer underneath the surface as best as I could with what little lighting there was and from a good twenty feet away. I couldn’t even make out where the surface of the water began and ended through the rolling.
I decided to step back onto the sidewalk and listen for the same noise. I listened for a solid minute, slowing even my breathing down to hear better. Nothing sounded out besides the water and the usual fauna, so I decided to keep on and go home. That is, until I see one of the unit’s gates. The units on the ground floor in this specific area have a metal gate closing off a small patio area. Very fancy for the buildings we live in. I look over and the person in this unit has a deer skull hanging in the grate of their fencing. I look closer and there is no wire or hook, it’s simply wedged in there. It seems to almost float inside the bars of the gate. I’m thoroughly creeped out but want to share this sighting with my boyfriend in the morning, so I made an incredibly dumb decision. I took a photo.
The night photo function on my phone counted down from three to get the best photo possible, and I heard my surroundings until the “1 sec” disappeared. Then it fell silent. Every duck was shushed, every frog stopped, even the wind died down, it seemed. All I was left with was the boiling sound. I knew I had messed up somehow and felt that same tingle on the back of my neck as I turned around. The surface of the water was completely still, save for the same boiling spot, and I had to take a double take to make sure I saw what I thought I saw. The boiling was growing, not wider, but taller. As if some creature was standing up slow enough as to not break the surface tension of the pond.
I immediately began to speed walk out of there. I still had my bag and everything from work so I couldn’t sprint, no matter how desperately I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I began to walk down the sidewalk path that narrows down to where there’s a large wooden fence on your right and the front patios of units on your immediate left. It’s a one-person fit, and I was trekking down this path as quick as I could muster. Then the fence began to creak and groan. Sounds like shrapnel hitting the boards rang out on this ten foot tall wooden fence. I pick up my pace and nearly fall as I trip on a section of fence that has jutted out into the path on the bottom. Something is following me, I just don’t know what. I can’t tell if it’s the thing from the other night or something else, but at that moment I didn’t care, I just needed to get home.
This is where it began to feel like some cheesy haunted mansion as I began running. One of my neighbor’s daughters left her Barbies outside directly in the middle of the path, nearly tripping me a second time. Graffiti was on the wall as I ran by: “No Go Zone.” And then the smell hit me. Musty water in the humid summer heat. It invaded my sense of smell, washing out what felt like every bit of fresh air. It was the thing from the other night. I said screw it to my bag and began sprinting, knowing it could keep up and I doubted I got a good enough headstart. My bag slamming on my lower back as I clear the road and get to our building, I hear that noise again. The bubbling, but this time with that sickening wet slap of wet against concrete. In an instant, I realize the horrifying truth: it’s in front of me. It’s going to cut me off so I needed to be at my door and I needed to be there instantaneously. Ignoring every tear and scream from my body I keep sprinting. In the flash of a moment before reaching my door I register a few things, water is pooling right beyond the wall by my door and above this pooling water is the same rolling boil I saw before but now it has reached eye level with me and is starting to round the corner.
At some point my body went into auto pilot and pulled my keys from my pocket. I have absolutely no recollection of this happening, but I took advantage and thrust the key forward into the lock and threw myself inside just as I heard the water hitting the concrete floor of my patio area. I locked the three locks and scrambled on the floor to get away from the door, but my body gave out on me. I scared the crap out of our cats, but a loud whomp on the door sent them running for the bedroom. I tensed up, not knowing what to do. Another whomp rings out, shaking the thin walls of the apartment, followed by the sound of water onto concrete.
Then, silence. I don’t know how long I sat there, waiting for something to happen. I was frozen to the faux-wood floors and too afraid to move a muscle. It took everything I had to stand up and creep towards the door. I hold my breath and look into the peep hole. Nothing. Not even so much as a misplaced blade of grass. It had gone, and I exhaled for what felt like the first time since I started running. I dropped my bag to the floor and my body onto the futon in our living room. Exhausted. The cats slowly begin to come back out, and I gain enough energy to pull out my laptop and type everything you’ve read here.
I’m officially scared. I don’t think I can even walk to my car tomorrow but I have to get my car eventually. I most likely angered whatever that thing was by being there again and taking photos. I watch too many horror movies to be making mistakes like that. We move literally next Monday, so we only have to survive the rest of this week and then we’re out of here and I can feel safe again. I intend to tell my boyfriend everything in the morning and have him drive me to my car after he gets off of work.
I’m honestly happy to answer any questions and open to suggestions. If there’s anything we can do to protect ourselves while we wait for this week to be over, I’m all ears.
I got a picture of the pond from the other night and the picture of the skull here