Transcription
This happened to me a couple of weeks ago, and despite what I want to believe, I think it's still an ongoing issue. I don't exactly live in the woods, but my house is on the outskirts of what I'd call a nature-filled suburb. Lots of trees, wildlife, and that sort of thing.
One side of our house borders what I guess you could call a small woods, though, it's more accurate to describe it as a wooded patch since it's only about a/4 mile from our property to the neighboring road on the other side. That road leads up and connects to another street. And on the other side of that road is this massive body of water that I've always been curious about. Growing up, I assumed it was some kind of reservoir since there are tons of no trespassing signs and government property signs posted all along the fence surrounding it. But here's the weird thing. The name of this supposed reservoir isn't listed on Google Maps or Apple Maps, which it definitely would be if it were an actual reservoir. I always found that kind of strange. I've looked it up multiple times over the years and never found any official information on it, but its presence has definitely been an interesting topic of conversation among my siblings and I.
I'm on Varsity Cross Country for my school, so I'm always looking for good places to run. That wooded area has become my go-to route because it's exactly a two-mile loop through that patch of woods, along that road by the water, then back around. It's way quieter than running in my actual neighborhood, which doesn't have sidewalks and has these twisty roads with terrible visibility where people drive way too fast. The season was fast approaching, so I had recently ramped up my runs. The day everything went down, I could have sworn I heard some rustling behind me as I was making my way back through the woods after my run, but I figured it was probably just an animal.
Fast forward to that night. During the summer, I always sleep with my windows open. I love the sounds of nature at night, especially when it rains. And boy, did it rain that night. A few hours after getting back home, a massive thunderstorm erupted out of nowhere. It was glorious. I was lying in bed, listening to the rain and thunder when I started drifting off. That's when I heard something that definitely wasn't part of the storm. It was soft at first, but it didn't go away. It was this soft sobbing or crying sound. And the more I listened, the more it sounded like it was coming from right beneath my bedroom window, and the more distinctly human it sounded. As if there was any doubt as to whether the sound could have been the result of the storm, a soft female voice cut through the raindrops. It said clear as day, "Can you help me? I'm cold."
I've never moved so fast in my life. It was like my primal instincts took over before fear could freeze me in place. I burst out of bed, ran to the front door, and sprinted around the side of the house toward my bedroom window. The rain was pelting so hard I was soaked within seconds. But I didn't care. I needed to do something. As scary as hearing that voice was, it had never occurred to me that something sinister was going on. My only thought was that someone was genuinely in danger. And as soon as I turned the corner, there she was. Huddled right underneath my window was a woman wearing white clothing, maybe a night gown or a dress, and she was crouching like she was trying to stay under the small overhang of my window. I approached her cautiously and asked if she needed help. The whole situation felt like a fever dream.
But then things went from zero to 100 in a matter of seconds. As soon as she noticed me, she sprang up and rushes straight at me with a surge of energy I hadn't expected. Without much time to react, I braced myself for contact. But midstride, she seemed to hesitate. Maybe she noticed how tall I am. I can't say for sure. But instead of engaging me, she deviated from her collision course and veered off towards the woods. I stood there in shock as she disappeared into the darkness, running impossibly fast for someone with no shoes on. I didn't follow her. I immediately went back inside, still dripping from head to toe, and I woke my dad up. When I told him what happened, he was just as freaked out as I was. We went around and made sure every door and window in the house was locked. We talked about calling the police, but it was already after midnight, and we figured that by the time they showed up, the woman would be long gone. Plus, searching those woods in a thunderstorm seemed like it would be pointless and potentially dangerous for whoever had to do it, if they even agreed to. So, we decided to just deal with it in the morning if necessary.
I managed to fall back asleep eventually, and the next couple of days were completely normal. My dad and I chocked the whole thing up to one of two potential explanations. A homeless person looking for shelter or someone who was mid-mental break. But what happened that night wasn't the end of the ordeal. In fact, it was more like the beginning.
Maybe a week after the initial incident, I was going on one of my usual runs. As I was making my way up to the connecting road, I happened to glance through the barbed wire fence at the water. To my surprise, there was actually movement down by the water's edge. I stopped running and looked more closely. There, sitting on the water's edge with her feet dangling in, was a woman. I froze in complete terror. I mean, how was she even there? The fence around that property doesn't have any holes that I've ever seen and it's topped with barbed wire. Not to mention the fact that it's like 10 ft tall to begin with. I must have made some kind of noise. Maybe I gasped or something because even though I was pretty far away, she suddenly turned her head and looked directly at me. In that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that she was the same woman who had been underneath my bedroom window during that thunderstorm. The moment she saw me, she got up and ran toward the fence with this completely crazed look in her eyes. She pressed her face right against the chain link and just stood there smiling at me. And it was not a normal smile, I'm telling you. I yelled that I was calling the police, hoping that would scare her off. And I guess it did because as soon as I said that, she turned and dove straight into the water. It was so unsettling and so unnatural that I felt unsafe just standing there.
I called 911 immediately and tried to explain the situation. I tried to keep her in sight, but she swam out of view before the police showed up. When they finally did, they took my statement and said they'd investigate the area. They told me to go about my day normally, which I was kind of shocked by. I haven't seen her again since then, but I've started hearing noises outside my bedroom window at night. Not crying like the first time, but just general sounds of someone moving out there. It's making me really paranoid and I just know something else is going to happen. I've actually been reluctant to go running because I don't want to run into her again. I get that she's probably psychotic and probably followed me home after a run one day, but what remains the biggest mystery to me is how she ended up on the other side of the fence. My sister and I have spent hours looking for a way in there. I'm telling you, it's impossible. My cousin Nick is one of those conspiracy theorist types and he's convinced that there's something more to the reservoir that the government wants to hide. But I think that's ridiculous. Still, I've never felt more unsettled than my own home.
[Music]
I'll just go ahead and say it. I'm a middle-aged man in a failed marriage. My wife and I fight over everything. I can't really remember what my wife and I were fighting about this time. Probably something stupid. I ended up storming out of the house. Something that happens all too often. Usually, I just get a hotel room in a situation like this, but I didn't want her chasing after me. So, I decided on a different option. I own a piece of property in the middle of nowhere that I've been meaning to repurpose. I think it used to be a shooting range or something like that. I honestly don't know. The previous owner died and his estate just wanted to get rid of it. The building itself is this weird concrete block structure with a few warehouse type rooms downstairs and an office area upstairs. It's actually pretty big despite being only a few rooms. I figured I'd spend the night there. There was no way she'd be able to find me.
I drove the 20 minutes through the increasingly desolate roads and about halfway there, I noticed dark clouds building up. By the time I got there, I could hear thunder rumbling in the distance. I parked in what used to be a parking lot just as the first drops of rain started falling. I keep a spare set of keys hidden behind a loose piece of siding, which I was able to locate pretty easily. By the time I got settled, the storm had really picked up. The building has metal roofing, and the rain was coming down hard enough that it sounded like someone was dumping gravel on the roof. There's a decently comfortable cot in what I assume used to be the office on the second floor. That's where I'd be sleeping. Once I got settled, I finally felt some peace for the first time in weeks, despite the storm outside. Actually, the sound of the rain was kind of soothing. It made the place feel completely cut off from the world. But of course, nice things never last. Not for me, at least.
The moment I started getting drowsy, I was ripped back to reality when the sound of shattering glass broke through the noise of the storm. My heart immediately started pounding. I lay there for maybe 30 seconds listening over the drumming of rain on the metal roof, trying to figure out what direction the sound had come from. I keep a hunting rifle in one of the adjacent rooms there, mostly so my wife doesn't know I own it. So, I grabbed it as quietly as I could and started making my way down the stairs. I stood there at the bottom of the stairwell, listening for something other than the sounds of rain, but there was nothing. Complete silence except for the storm. I decided to search the entire building methodically. I went room by room, rifle ready, checking every closet and corner. In the back room, I found what I was looking for. One of the boarded up windows had a hole punched through it with glass scattered on the floor inside, but that was it. There were no signs of entry, and despite the window being shattered, there wasn't enough room for someone to fit through it. Still though, I was paranoid to my core. I spent another 20 minutes examining the property, but I couldn't find anything that even remotely looked out of place. I figured it was probably just vandals who threw a rock through the window and took off when they heard it break. I found some cardboard in one of the other rooms and taped it over the hole, then went back upstairs. I kept the rifle next to the cot just in case, but I was pretty convinced whoever it was had already left.
I'm not sure how long I'd been lying there, maybe an hour, when I heard what I thought were footsteps moving below me. It was hard to tell over the rain, but it sounded like someone walking slowly, trying to move quietly under the cover of the storm noise. I again grabbed the rifle and crept to the top of the stairs. This time, not risking alerting the intruder by walking down. The footsteps had stopped though, but there was no way they could have heard me. I waited there like a statue for maybe 5 minutes, feeling beads of sweat start forming on my forehead. I ended up searching the place again, but again, there was nothing. I started wondering if I was imagining things or if whoever had been there had snuck out before I noticed them. That didn't explain how all the doors were still locked, though. This time I went outside into the pouring rain and searched the perimeter with my phone's flashlight. There were no vehicles nearby or any signs that someone had been there. It was starting to freak me out. Part of me wished I'd find something just to assure myself I wasn't going crazy.
I went back upstairs and tried to rationalize what I heard. Between the rain on the metal roof and the general creaking that old buildings do during storms, there were a dozen explanations for sounds that might seem like footsteps. I tried to focus on getting some sleep, telling myself I was being paranoid. But that wasn't the end of it. Before I could even settle in again, I heard what sounded like furniture being dragged across the floor below me. This was different. Not something that could be explained by the storm. The unmistakable sound of something heavy being pushed or pulled across concrete is not something a storm could create. Not in a million years. This time, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed the rifle and stormed downstairs, flipping on every light switch I could find. I was getting angry now, which was probably better than being scared. I yelled out into the darkness that I wasn't messing around, that I was armed, and that I wasn't afraid to defend myself or my property. My voice echoed through the empty rooms and then died away into silence. Nothing had been moved, and no one answered me.
You might be wondering why I didn't call the police at that point. It was partly because I wasn't sure what I'd tell them, but mostly because the property isn't completely up to code, and that's putting it generously. The last thing I needed was to bring official attention to the place. But standing there in that empty building, rifle in hand, yelling into the darkness, something suddenly shifted. In an instant, my frustrated anger transformed into pure cold fear. It was more than just a changing attitude. It was like something icy washed over me. I could feel it and every instinct I had was screaming at me to get as far away from that place as possible. I don't know what triggered it exactly, but I knew I had to leave. I quickly gathered my things, returned the rifle to its hiding place, and turned off all the lights. The storm was still raging outside, but I didn't care. I locked up the building and drove back home through the worst of the weather.
It's been a little while since that happened, but I plan to go back in a few days or whenever I have time really. I want to go back and investigate. Maybe install some kind of security system to see if anything's actually happening there or if it was just my imagination. As far as what actually happened that night, I have no idea. Either someone was actually there and was able to hide from me or I'm starting to lose my mind. I don't know which is scarier. And I really don't want to think about any kind of third possibility because that scares me even more.
[Music]
My name is Jason. I live in a pretty rural area where you have to drive at least half an hour to get to anywhere interesting. This happened to me three Fridays ago. My buddy Leo and I had driven out to this house party a few towns over. It wasn't a big banger or anything. Just one of those chill gatherings where people hang out in someone's backyard playing beer pong and listening to music. A little collegey to be honest, but there's not much to do around my neck of the woods if I'm being real. I was the DD that night, so I'd been nursing the same beer for like 3 hours while Leo was doing his usual thing, getting progressively louder and more philosophical as the night went on. He was pretty plastered by the time we left around 1:00 a.m., which was funny up until I realized I'd become his de facto babysitter. After finally dragging him away from the girl he was flirting with, I ushered him into my car to make the 20some minute drive back home.
The weather had gotten pretty nasty while we were at the party, though. What started as a somewhat refreshing drizzle had become a torrential downpour that made it hard to see more than 30 ft ahead. I had to slow down to like 30 on roads I'd normally tear through at like 60. Leo kept complaining first about my driving, then about the music, and finally about how badly he needed to piss. I told him we were 15 minutes from home max, but he kept going on about it. His tantrum was becoming insufferable. So, after another 5 minutes of him whining, I gave up. I pulled over on this random stretch of road next to what looked like cornfields, though it was hard to tell in the dark and rain. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. No houses visible, no street lights, just farmland on both sides of the road. I told him he could go ahead and get soaked for all I care, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't listening because he was already halfway out the car before I was even finished talking. He practically fell out of the passenger seat and stumbled off toward the field, disappearing within seconds. The rain was coming down hard enough that I could barely see him once he got 10 ft away. The literal moment he staggered out of sight, I remember I had an umbrella in my back seat. I sat there for a minute with the engine running, but then figured I might as well take advantage of the stop, too. So, I grabbed my umbrella, locked the door out of habit, and walked off in the opposite direction from where Leo had gone. I found a spot maybe 20 yards from the car, right at the edge of where the gravel met the crops. As I was standing there, I could have sworn I heard something rustling back near the car, something other than the deafening sounds of the storm. Without altering my stance, I looked back over my shoulder toward the car, but didn't see anything. I had the keys in my pocket and knew I locked the car, so I didn't think much of it. I finished up and headed back, surprised to find that Leo wasn't standing by the car yet.
A few minutes passed, then five, then another five. Still no Leo, though. I was getting pissed. What should have been a quick 20-minute drive home was turning into this whole 45-minute ordeal, and I had to be up early the next morning. I was about to honk the horn when I saw movement in the side mirror. Leo was sprinting toward the passenger door, and even through the rain and darkness, I could tell something was wrong. The second he got in, before he even had the door closed, he was screaming at me to drive. As if some kind of survival instinct activated in me, I pulled out of there as fast as I could, but with the rain and all, it wasn't like I could speed. Leo started explaining that while he was doing his business, he saw what he thought was me somewhere to his right. The person started walking deeper into the field, and Leo, in his drunk logic, thought I was messing with him, or maybe that I was drunker than I'd let on. So, he followed. He said he followed for a while, not entirely sure what I was doing and too drunk to analyze the situation properly. Eventually, the figure turned around and Leo realized it definitely wasn't me. He said he couldn't make out any details in the darkness, but it was clearly someone else. The whole explanation took maybe 30 seconds, but before he could even finish talking, I felt the car start drifting sharply to the right, and then came the unmistakable sound of a flat tire. It was literally a worst-case scenario. Continuing the drive was not an option. The car was pulling way too much. Reluctantly, I pulled over. We were maybe half a mile from where we had originally stopped. Not close enough for it to be an immediate danger, but not exactly far enough for me to feel comfortable. I snapped at Leo to get out of the car and help me out since he was responsible for landing us in this mess. But when I walked around the car to inspect the flat, my anger at Leo became fear. Pure fear. There, lodged in the sidewall of my rear passenger tire was a screwdriver. There was about a 0% chance that it happened coincidentally. Someone had jammed it in there and with force, too. Judging from how deep the puncture was, Leo started freaking out, but I snapped at him to get it together. The two of us rushed to change the tire, which was especially nerve-wracking in the pouring rain. I didn't want to think about who had sabotaged my car or why. But with every passing second, my hands got shakier and shakier. I felt like someone was going to catch up to us at any moment. The fear was so sickening, I actually started feeling nauseous, which is something that no nightmare can ever match. I was finishing tightening up the last lug nuts when all of a sudden a scream rang out from somewhere behind us. It was clearly a woman's scream, which made the situation 10 times scarier since the person Leo claimed to have seen was a man. I threw the tools in the trunk, ditched the tire, and got back in the car as fast as I could. But as I was pulling away, Leo started tugging my arm, saying that we had to go back because someone was in trouble. I told him there was no way I was going back, even though a part of me felt like I was making the wrong decision. Leo called 911 as I drove away, giving the operator our location, or as close as he could figure it. Leo was furious with me the whole ride home, saying someone could be dying back there, but I couldn't bring myself to turn the car around. I was just too afraid. I didn't say much until we were pulling into my driveway, trying to ignore Leo calling me out for being a coward and whatnot. Instead of dropping Leo off, the two of us sat in my driveway to try and make sense of everything. Leo was convinced that the scream came from someone who was being attacked or stalked by the person he'd seen, and he felt guilty that we had just driven away instead of helping. But I wasn't so sure about that theory. If someone was out there doing something sinister to another person, why would they ever draw attention to themselves by puncturing a passing car's tire? To me, that seemed like the last thing you'd want to do if you were trying to hurt someone without being caught. Plus, if there really were a woman in trouble, she would have been able to see our car in headlights when we first pulled over, why wait until after we had driven off to call for help? It didn't make any sense. And as I was explaining my rationale to Leo, I finally felt that I could vocalize what had until then just been a gut feeling telling me to get out of there. The scream must have been part of some kind of trap, like maybe there were multiple people out there. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. But even that theory doesn't make much sense, which writing this all out is making me realize. Actually, that theory sounds equally as absurd. Who in their right mind would stop their car in that random road at that hour of the night? There's no way someone could have hatched a plot to lure a traveler out of their car there in the pouring rain, no less. Leo and I argued back and forth about it for a while, ultimately agreeing to disagree. I called the police station the next morning to see if they had found anything, but they said their officers had searched the area and found no evidence of anyone being there. Even more strangely, they hadn't found my tire either, which threw yet another wrinkle into things. Although, I guess it's possible they just weren't looking in the right place. A few days later, Leo suggested that maybe it was actually the woman, not the man, who had punctured my tire. Maybe trying to draw our attention. Why they would do that instead of scream, I have no idea. The whole thing honestly has no explanation that sits right with me. But I really don't want to think about what it would mean if Leo is right. If there really had been someone in trouble out there whose fate I sealed by driving away.