They stumbled across old and mysterious diaries or journals with entries that will frighten you.
so to start this story I’m going to fill you in on a little bit of stuff that will come in handy later in this story. I’m a hunter, fisherman skeet shooter, just your average outdoors men. And we live right across the street from a national Forrest , also we live in the state of GA how ever things didn’t start happening until the summer of 2016 when we started going fishing by our selves for the most part it was just me and a friend but one day when we went we were greated by the sound of some one following us. Thinking nothing of it we keep going on our three mile trek to the river checking around always to see nothing. Now we get to the river and we start moving around trying to find a fishing spot until we notice a high pitched scraping noise.
Turning our heads up to the cliff it was comming from above the river just to hear the noise stop and to see no one. Now the cliff was bear there was no possible way anyone could be up there so we just brushed it off again. So we move about a mile up stream and feeling at ease with not foot steps following us and no odd noises we continue for about and hour and notice that’s the wild life has completely stopped no noise at all now I know this sounds like a bunch of crap and bluh bluh bluh but this really happened and anyone who lives in this neighborhood can confirm the same feeling of someone following them.
I was nineteen years old when this happened. I’m thirty-two now but the thought of what happened that night still sends shivers down my spine. I visited my dad in a small town called Rio Grand City, he has a house inside his ranch which is perfect because i love hunting. My dad and step mom were going to be out for a few hours for they were heading to a party. My dad urged me to come but I didn’t want to, later on I regret that decision.
As my parents left I went to my room and grabbed my bow and arrow and my fathers 38 special revolver. I headed out deep into the ranch before it got too dark hoping to find a deer or bob cat, I was an expert with my bow and arrow and wanted to see if i still had it. I go to my usual spot which has a deer blind my dad bought when I was six. There I waited and waited till darkness was upon me. I was quite disappointed no animals had shown up, I decided it was time to head back home.
So this will be the first time I come out about this story to anyone besides 2 friends, My cousin, Let’s call him Eric, outright refuses to speak of it at all. I don’t blame him. This incident happened about 2 years ago, during our stay at my Uncle’s house. And no, My cousin wasn’t his Son, he had a daughter who moved out long ago. His house was near Copper Harbor, about a 4 mile drive.
It was a pretty isolated house, two stories with about a 10 yard walk to the Treeline of the near Woods. Like any other concerned parental figure he prompted me, and my cousin not to go out at night, and if we were out to be in the house before dark. We could understand his worry, but we weren’t some fragile children. Or so we thought. To give some background, at the time I was nearly 20, Eric turned 21 the month before I remember.
Of course everyone claiming residence in Arthur’s Wake knows tales associated with the Wicker House. It seems that every small province plays host to some structure of ill repute which, as if by supernatural magnetism, draws rumor of ghosts and bogies, wrapping the timber and stone of its foundation in a shroud of darkness and horror. In Arthur’s Wake, the Wicker House fills this odious task.
Scant days after arriving in town, while taking the time to familiarize myself with the local watering hole and its residents, I became introduced to the well known superstitions surrounding the Wicker House. As a man of science, I knew any truths to be found in these outlandish stories were likely embellished to points unrecognizable. Nothing was first hand; all experiences were from a friend who knew a fellow who may have seen something. It is the provincial mind which transforms wild dogs into wolves that walk like men and interprets astronomical phenomena as harbingers of certain doom. Still, my curiosity sufficiently piqued, I endeavored to better inform myself upon the subject through more objective means. To my great surprise, while failing to confirm the more supernatural claims of the tales, the town records in the basement of the local library did provide aspect to a most sinister reality all their own.
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