The old man in the forest

This happened a long time ago. I was 12 and in my grandparents village. We had an cow and an Ox. Usually the son of the Bull(usually just 1) took all the cattle to graze and at night he would take them back. Cows know where to go when going home. My grandpa had a male ox and since my father was and adult and he wasn’t there I took the responsibility. Basically my job was to go around the village with the ox trailing after me calling the people to open their doors. Our ox would grunt to call the herd and all the females came out. From then on I had to take them to a clearing up the mountain and then Later take them to the river. It was easy. The animals already knew where they were going. They were calm and our bull was a gentle giant. Ill i did was ride him and have a thin rope on his horns. If any or the females wandered off all I did was call or in rare occasions poke her with a dull stick in the right direction. My grandpa said that if I see a wold(very rare),a boar or a fox I should stay on the ox. Not many animals dare go near an ox herd.

There is a dark part of the forest where it is vary quiet and even the bravest hunters won’t go. It is very slippery and dangerous. They said that even the deer and boar dare not go there. I was forbidden to go there and honestly never wanted to. It was an early morning and everything seemed fine. I was on the Ox going up the mountain. I was glad he let me because it was a hard trek up. I saw that one of the females was wandering off. I followed her and left our ox and the dogs to guide the herd. She went in the forest. I ran to her and got on tying the rope on her horns. I tried steering her away but she continued. She went in the dark part and stopped. I didn’t want to get off in case she ran back and left me there. I heard a crunch and turned.

A very old man was walking towards us. He looked frail with dirty clothes and a long beard. I was scared so I laid on the ox clinging to her not wanting to fall if she ran. Oxen aren’t like bulls. They don’t jump and kick when scared. They either attack with their horns and trample or run. I was ready to hold on no matter what she chose. Our oxen don’t take kindly to strangers before I took them Out I had to go to every house and have the ox owner introduce me to the animal. That way they saw that their owner trusts me and their Herd leader(our ox) trusts me. I knew she would either attack or bolt. But she just stood there. The stranger came to us and petted her on her head whispering something I didn’t understand. He looked at me.His eyes were completely white. Then he turned around and left. He just disappeared in the trees.

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Wendigo at the cabin

This story happened when I was 10 or so. My grandpa owns a 200 acre property with a cabin up in Granby Colorado that is surrounded by forest, which he allows my family to go to. Me and my sister were sleeping in the second floor of this cabin which there are 2 beds and a window looking over the property and long driveway.

We had just gotten up there after a long drive and all of my family just fell asleep.

I woke up at 1:30 AM to a loud scream howl roar mix. I went to the window to check it out but the sound seemed to far away for me to see what made it, so I brushed it off as nothing. About 30 min later I woke up to the sound of scraping on the roof so I hid underneath my covers. I spent probably about 5 minutes under those covers but it felt like an hour, while I was underneath the covers I heard a thump on the ground.

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The Black and White Children

I have had strange experiences my entire life. I don’t know if they are paranormal, or some kind of Monster/Urban legend; I really don’t know but I’ll leave it up to you to decide.

I was just like any other 8 year old. Running around playing with my friends, being outside was always my favorite after school activity. To describe the lay out I am from a small town in Canada. Like really small, less than three thousand people including a couple of cows. I lived in a very tiny, newly developed subdivision. There was me, a few neighbors, and a field behind the house that seemed to go on forever. Throughout our little town and acres of farms there were abandoned barns. I had seen them all over and they were nothing special to me. They were two stories (the top being where they held feed), all made out of wood that was now rotting and generally they had small bits of a rusty red coloured paint that was mostly chipped away. All of them were abandoned a long time ago. There was one of these barns near my house, in the back field, tucked away in a little grove of trees; it was tucked into a little C shape of trees and had an opening about the size of a car you could get through to it.

I was out in the field playing by myself and running through the tall grass as I often did when I saw the barn. Now I had walked passed this barn hundreds of times with my friends and family…it was different now. It lost all it’s colour. It wasn’t that same brown wooden colour with some red it was black and white. The trees surrounding it, usually vibrant and green, now seemed pale and lifeless. I knew my mom wouldn’t want me playing in the barn as it was falling apart, but this one seemed together. Like it was newly built. (It’s probably good to note this was a time where your children would run around anywhere and parents were just kinda like “hey come inside before dark” and my parents were at work during this time).

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The woodpecker

I live in Finland. My grandparents have a cabin at the edge of the woods that they pretty much live in during the summer. It’s surrounded by farmland on three sides and the forest starts at the fourth. It’s a neat, sparse forest with the only foliage being blueberries and lingonberries — very easy to navigate and full of little paths leading to where you might want to go. A typical forest for the area. There are railroad tracks that run through the forest a little less than a kilometre from where the cabin stands. Trains still go through from time to time, but it’s quite safe to cross and I have been playing in the forest since I was a little kid.
As you can probably imagine, animals are plenty there. It’s mostly hedgehogs, squirrels, and many, many different birds, though once a bear was reported to be roaming around. My father is a bit of an amateur ornithologist though, so the birds always drew our attention. Most of their names I don’t know in English, but they’re lovely to watch.
When I was 17 years old, I was there for… pretty much the whole summer. It was my summer job, in essence: helping my grandparents with the garden and just keeping them company to keep them from driving each other insane. It was simple and sometimes excruciatingly boring, but it was good for me. I think.
The summer was a warm one, with less mosquitoes than we usually get, and thus I amused myself by roaming the forest. When I was younger I was not allowed there unsupervised, so I liked to be able to decide where to go and being just with me, myself, and I for a while. I’ve always been a loner.
Eventually, mouth and fingers purple from eating too many blueberries, I found myself passing the train tracks, too lazy to find the crossing so I just clambered up the ledge and hopped over to the other side. I never went far with my family, so now I was eager to see what lay beyond that point. The furthest I’d ever gotten was a couple hundred metres away from the railroad. The forest was a bit wetter there and mushrooms grew wonderfully in the autumn.
I’d walked a good five hundred metres away when I heard a sound I’d never heard before. It was almost like a child was screaming or crying behind me.
My first reaction, silly as it may be, was to jump around as though someone was going to attack me right then and there. Of course, there was nobody there, and I soon understood the reason.
It was a woodpecker. There is a sub-species of woodpeckers in Finland that makes a sound just like a woman’s scream. It’s very rare and I was excited just by the thought of seeing this elusive bird. It is quite gorgeous: big and almost completely black, just with a red spot on its head.
The scream sounded again. It was hard to tell where exactly it was coming from: it sure sounded like it was on the ground, lower than I. But the forest can be tricky with the way sound travels. I decided it was probably back towards the cabin and took out my phone to snap a picture for my dad.
I listened to the scream that was growing in volume as I neared it. My grand aunt had told me a story of how God had turned a rude woman into this bird, cursing her to roam the forests crying and apologizing for her sins. It of course was just an explanation to why a bird would sound so much like a human being.
Still. The closer I got, the less convinced I was that it was a bird and not an actual child. The problem was, it sounded too much like a child to be a bird and too much like a bird to be a child. I tried to shut out the mounting anxiety I was feeling, but couldn’t. I’ve stated I am a loner — at that age I was also a terrible over-thinker. I really started to understand why the ancient Finns had started coming up with stories to explain the sound.
Another thing that disturbed me was that the pauses between the screams were becoming shorter and shorter so that soon it was pretty much screaming non-stop. And still, underneath that I was hearing a faint sound of the train approaching.
I doubled my pace. If it really was a bird the train would no doubt scare it away. I doubted a child would be on the tracks, even by themselves.
When I cleared the forest the sound of the train was quite close. The crossing was there in front of me, and there sat a three or four years old child.
She was naked, smack in the middle of the tracks, and screaming her bright red face off while tears were running down her cheeks. She didn’t sound sad — she sounded quite angry, actually. In the middle of a temper tantrum, maybe.
I was utterly frozen for a second, heart sinking down to my knees. Then I of course started forward with a yell and the intention of getting her off the darn tracks before the train crushed her. But she stopped me in my tracks with the next thing she did.
She quit crying suddenly, with no hiccups or anything like that, and stood up on shaky legs. She looked like she was going to bolt, probably down the tracks.
I learned it that day: when disaster strikes, I am one of those unfortunates who do nothing. Who need to be given exact orders on how to react to every frigging thing. Because I suddenly could not move, even though I knew that she was going to die if I didn’t. There was something so weird about her.
I could see the train coming fast. They must not have seen her: there was no attempt to slow down or stop. She fixed me with an absolutely furious look.
“Give me a name!” she screamed right before the train hit her and she… disappeared.
The train breezed past and I was left standing there, stunned and afraid.
There is a creature in Finnish folklore called liekkiö. It’s the soul of a baby birthed in secret and slain by its mother. They are said to wander the forests and scream, and occasionally lead people into danger like will-o-the-wisps. The way to get rid of them is to give them a name, or to dig up their little bodies and bury them properly. I used to think it’s yet another story to explain that stupid woodpecker, but now I’m not too sure anymore. I don’t know for sure, but I think the creature was trying to lure me in front of that train.
This encounter haunts me more than I care to admit. I don’t go to the tracks anymore and children in traffic give me unreasonable amounts of anxiety. It bothers me that if the kid had been just a kid, I would’ve let her die — it bothers me that had I tried to save her, I might be dead. I do my best not to dwell on it.

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The Count’s Bird-cage – Duplicate

I worked a small time park maintenance and upkeep job a few years back for a local park. It’s no Yellowstone, but I grew up there, hiking the hills and exploring the forests. When I got offered a job working there I took it without a second thought, even though it didn’t pay well – just my way of giving back to the park.

I have more than a few stories from my time there, trekking about with a shovel and saw for whole days at a time, but my favorite tale comes from a co-worker of mine, who I knew as Mikhael. Mikhael had a particular nickname among my fellow crewman – The Count. This was, as far as I could tell, in reference to his angular European face and dark black hair. The Count was around 50 or so when I met him, and yet he had such a love for the forest that he stayed in his part time volunteer job.

The Count was a very kind and gentle man – he would help out with anything you asked, was always kind and compassionate. Of all the things I remember about the Count, one thing that’s always stuck was his love of telling tales of adventures in his home county of Poland. His passion for said stories are part of why I log and spread them as much as I do today. The Count told, no pun intended, countless stories, and many of them I can recall somewhat. Only one of them has really stuck with me all these years later, and it was the last one he ever told me.

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Do You See It?

My family’s house isn’t one of those stereotypical houses that was built in the middle of the woods where there isn’t anyone else for miles, but we do have a decently sized forest surrounding our property. We moved here due to my husband having to relocate for work, and while I was a bit uncomfortable with the new location, I have grown attached to the silence and serenity we didn’t have living in the city.

We’ve been living here for close to two years, and in that time, we were incredibly happy. We had a back yard that was big enough for our son to play in and that allowed us to get a dog, I was able to take up my long time desire to learn archery, and my husband loved his job and was making a rather substantial amount of money. Our neighbors were incredibly nice, the local school was excellent and very accommodating, and I found a good job working as a secretarial assistant. For lack of a better word, things were perfect.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

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The crying forest

It was about 2 a.m. on a very cold night in northern Iowa. My friend Derrick and I had decided to do some late night exploring of a wooded area considered to have multiple sightings of unknown creatures. We drove Derrick’s car off the main road, onto a gravel sideroad, and about 50 yards in we stopped at an old gate. I jumped out of the car and saw that there was no lock or anything securing the gate to the post so I simply unlatched and pulled it open. We drove for about 2 miles, completely surrounded by thick forest, before we hit a dead end at a small clearing. There’s a lot of paths like this that branch off that main road and lead nowhere because they were temporary roads used for logging operations, and they make for perfect places to park your car unnoticed. We got out and started walking in a random direction just hoping to find something exciting. My friend Derrick brought his $500 drone with him and had been flying it above are heads as we walked along.

The locals in the neighboring towns call this area the “the crying forest” because there’s been many claims of people hearing “crying” sounds coming from deep within the woods. I’m not a very superstitious guy but this kind of stuff does get me creeped out, especially when the local police rarely patrol this area and warn people not to stray too far off the main road.

It was getting late, Derrick had put the drone away, and we started to talk about heading back to the car when suddenly we heard a loud wheezing sound, like the sound you make when trying to clear your throat, except this was a very deep and rumbling wheezing. I told Derrick to pull the drone out of his backpack and fly it in that direction. He got it up at least 60 feet, high enough to clear the trees, and we started walking towards the sound with the drone above.

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Incounter in a dark swedish forest

Im a 21 year old girl from a small town in sweden and some years ago me and two guy friends from school decided to go into the forest to camp out for a night, this is not the first time we did this. But we had never been to this spot before. Let’s call my friends Phil and Ned. We had chosen to go on the camping trip on a worm and sunny friday in july. We got our parents to drop us of at the entrance to the forest trail that we were going on, Ned had chosen this spot because he had heard his grandfather speak of it before he died not too long ago. There was apparently going to be a camping chak with a fireplace and behind that that was going to be a small lake. We walked for about one hour on a old gravel road surrounded by thick forest, it took much longer to get to the we had anticipated and like a tipicul girl i had of course over packt. Finally we got to the chak, to my surprise it was really nicely kept. It was a small chak with three walls, a roof and a wooden floor. We walked straight down to the small lake and jumped in to cool of after the long and sweaty walk. Phil started a fire and me and Ned carved sticks to grilled some hotdogs on. We stayed by the fire all evening and past around a bottle of vodka that Phil had taken from his parent and we talked about life. The sun started to go down by this time. The talking stopped abruptly by a twig snapping behind me, i froze, not wanting to look behind me. Ned got up and got closer to where the sound had come from, he laughed nervously
Maybe we got a thirsty rabbit on our hands, he sad as he took a sip from the vodka bottle.
he sat back down and we started to relax agen trying to laugh it off. We continued our talking a bit longer until we got too tired, Ned went to go and relieve himself behind some trees by the chak and as I stood up from my place to go to my sleeping bag i heard someone sobbing. Petrified I turned around to look where the sobbing came from and there was a second sob… I screamed and run over to Phil, he was chockt by my reaction because he apperently had not heard the sobbs. Ned came out from the side of the chak and asked what was happening. I explained myself to them the best i could and they got silent to listen to the forest sounds. The sobbing did not come again but now we realised that there was no sounds at all coming from the forest, it was too silent. I was close to freaking out but the boys tried to explain it away to my imagination and the vodka. We did not want to stay awake anymore so we threw the last bit of firewood on the fire and got in to our sleeping bags on the cold chak floor and stayed as close to each other as possible. We all had a hard time falling asleep but eventually we drifted of. I woke up to Phil whispering in my ear.
Wake up, there is a girl by the fire.
I was too tired to understand what he was saying but looked over by the fire anyway, it was dark and the fire had almost burned down to ash and gave the surawnings a faint but reddish glow. But there was a little girls silhouette illuminated by the glow past the fireplace just by the spot i had previously sat. I looked at Ned but he was fast asleep and then i looked at Phil but he just stared at the girl, she had her head in her hands and had a brown dirty dress on, long messy blond hair and looked to be no more than three years old. We lay there for what felt like forever before Phil stood up and looked at me to do the same. I followed his leed and did as he did, now Ned woke up and was just about to say something when Phil signed for him to be silent and he pointed to where the little girl stood. The silence was again broken by sobbing coming from the girl, but she had not moved. A cold chill went threw me as I realised that it was the same sounds I had heard before. I wanted to believe that the little girl was only lost but I just knew in my bones that this was not a normal little girl lost in the woods. Phil walked closer to the girl slowly and tried to talk to her
Hi my name is Phil, don’t be scared. Are you lost?
The little girl stopped the sobbing and we waited for her to respond. She lifted her head up slowly, i expected a horrible deformed looking face to great us but her face was beautiful… until she opened her mouth twice the size it should had been and screamed a horrefing scream. I fell backwards in to the the chak and hit my head on the hard damp floor and i was stunned by the pain and got a splitting headache. When i regained some of my senses I started to really freaking out. But the little girl had disappeared.
What the hell was that, I screamed.
The boys did not answer me but was already stuffing there things in to there backpacks as fast as they could and screaming that we had to get out of here. I tried to do the same but because of the intense pain in my head i was not as fast as them so had to leave some stuff behind, but i did not care as long as we got out of the fast. We started running down the old gravel road that lead out to the parking lot, it was almost pitch dark on the small road only lightened by the faint light coming from our phones. Ned tripped on something and fell to the ground, we stopped and helped him up to his feet again but he had hurt his foot in the fall so had to slow down. We started to calm down thinking that the little girl had not follow ous, but we did not say a word to each other. Phil called his father and begged him to come and pick us up as soon as he could, a bit upset and grumpy by being woken up this late he reluctantly agreed to come. We maybe had ten minutes left to get to the parking lot when I stupidly looked behind us. There the little girl stood, not even five meters behind us with her head in her hands. I started crying and the boys did not have to look behind ous to know she was there because the girl started sobbing again, but louder this time. We tried to go as fast as we could and finley we got to the parking lot but Phils father was not there yet. We were not going to stay there and wait so we kept on walking until Phils father meet us by the road and picked us up. He drove us back to there house and my mother came as soon after Phils father had called her and Neds mother to come and pick us up. I did not speak for a couple of days after this event, my parents was worried but they did not press me to talk. I eventually told them that we had encountered a scary moos that had come into our camp and they believed me. They don’t believe in strange things like ghosts or spirits, but my grandmother do so i went to her and explained what we had encountered in the forest that night. She thought it was a Mylling, it is the spirit of a child that died and was buried without being baptized, usually the mother of the child had given birth out of wedlock or in secret and killed the child soon after. There are apparently a lot of old folktales about Myllings and encounters with them but usually in old houses where the mothers had buried them under the floorboards. I have not been back to that forest and I’m not planning to.

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The man on the mountain

I wouldn’t say that I believe in the paranormal. Sure I’ve had my fair share of unexplained occurrences in my life, but I have always been able to come up with explanations that satisfy me. That was all true until I found myself in the most horrific experience of my life so far. Now I don’t know what to believe.
It was the early summer of my Senior year of highschool. I had just turned 17 and my girlfriend, Julie and I had planned a camping trip with some of our friends to celebrate. We were going to be spending the night on Silver Star Mountain, a short drive north of where we all lived. We started the day by packing all of the food and cooking materials into my girlfriend’s minivan and drove over to pick up the four friends we were taking along with us, James, Marco, Ferris, and Sophia. They all pushed there large backpacks into the van and we were on our way.
After about an hour drive on the highway and another 45 mins on a narrow dirt road, we made it to the remote trailhead. At this point it was in the mid afternoon which was much later than we had intended to arrive, due to a much needed river swim we had taken on the drive up. We quickly started our ascend and soon realized this hike was going to be much harder than we anticipated. We were all very experienced hikers (as are most people in the NorthWest), but we hadn’t prepared for how steep the trail was going to be. No matter, we pushed on and after two hours of straight uphill we came to a juncture on the trail that was not on our map. After some deliberation it was decided that I would run up one of the trails and attempt to decipher if it was the right path. I dropped my pack and started a jog up the trail, watching my friends slowly disappear behind me.
A few more minutes and I came to the conclusion that this trail was the wrong way, because it had come to a dead end. I had stopped in a small clearing with tall bushes looming above me. I stopped to catch my breath and noticed that a spot in the grass had been flattened, likely made by a large deer or mountain goat. Just then I heard a rustling to the right of my in the foliage and heard the movement of some reasonably large animal running off into the woods. Suddenly I felt and incredibly uneasy feeling, like the feeling you get when you hear a creak in your empty house late at night. I then noticed how silent and still the whole forest felt, and decided that it was time to head back to my friends. I ran back down the trail, forgetting my unusual experience immediately once I saw my smiling girlfriend. We all picked up our bags and resumed our hike, eventually making it to the top of the mountain around 6 PM. For an avid hiker, I can say I have seen some extremely beautiful views, but the top of this mountain was the most impressive. It had a 360 degree view of the horizon around us with forest stretching on far as the eye could see.
The place where we were setting up camp was on the peak of the mountain surrounded by sheer rocky dropoffs. Since we saw the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon we put up our tents and hammocks and after a long period of time were able to build a fire in the stinging cold wind. We ate dinner and then James, Sophia, Ferris, and Marco went off to smoke a joint on the cliff edge. Julie and I had decided to stay sober the whole trip because we wanted to fully experience everything. The sun finally set, allowing us to see the most beautiful sunset of my life and James, Sophia, Ferris, and Marco crawled into their hammocks which were about 100 feet from the tent that Julie and I were sharing. After a while of shivering in the cold I drifted off to sleep with my girlfriend in my arms.
Suddenly I awoke and looked to my phone which said it was 3 in the morning. I nestled back into my sleeping bag and closed my eyes when I realized why I had woken up. I heard a faint crying off in the distance. At first I thought it was a woman’s cry, but soon realized that it was a man’s whimpering somewhere outside of the tent. I immediately assumed it was James because it was only his second time smoking weed and for some reason I thought he was having a weird experience. Without thinking, I left Julie in the tent to go help James out and make sure he was okay. I followed the soft crying to the edge of one of the surrounding cliffs and looked down over the edge. I saw a figure crouched into an outcropping on the cliff face, he was weeping. I yelled “James” “James”, for some reason still assuming it was him, but there was no reply.
Then I decided to do something that I wish I never did, I slowly started to descend the cliff to help him. After about 30 seconds of shuffling down the cliff I looked again down towards the figure. I noticed that James was completely naked, something I had somehow not noticed before. I continued to crawl down towards him when he slowly looked up towards me. I was filled with a thickening dread that sunk into the core of my being when I noticed it was not James, but a naked skinny man huddled into a ball. Tears were flowing down his face and there was a large rock being held in his hands. I watched in horror as he raised the rock with his right hand and quickly brought it down onto his left hand, smashing his fingers. He then let out a deeply pained groan from his throat and brought down the rock again, destroying his hand. I watched as he lifted up his mutilated appendage as if to show me what he had done. It was at this moment that froze up, completely terrified of the man 10 feet in front of me. He took a short crouched step towards me still with his bleeding broken hand up, and I began to climb back up the cliff, kicking rocks and dirt down behind me. I heard another painful groan and looked back to see the man who was now uninterested in me continue to smash his hand to bits with his rock. With that I reached the top of the cliff and yelled loud enough to wake everyone up. I ran towards where everyone was and told them that there was some crazy man on the mountain with us and that we need to leave right now. They must have seen the look in my eye because they knew I was not joking. We all started to quickly pack up our stuff when we started hearing animalistic screams of pain along with the sound of rocks tumbling down the mountain. With that we grabbed our bags and ran down the trail, leaving our hammocks and tent behind. No one spoke on the hike down and every so often we would hear the cries off in the distance as we descended down the steep trail. After an hour we could no longer here the cries, but still no one spoke. Eventually we got to our van and discovered the left rear window had been completely shattered, with bits of glass hanging off. We quickly got into the car and drove off, where I recounted to all of them what had happened on the cliff. Despite how disturbed we all were we all felt lucky to be alive, and eventually started making some jokes about how ridiculous this all was.
Once we got into cell service I called the police and told them everything that happened, which to my surprise they took very seriously. Unfortunately they never found the man on the mountain, but did find a great deal of blood on the cliff face that I had seen the man on. It is now two years later and we all are planning on camping up on the mountain again to prove that we can do it. Despite the excitement that is going along with it, I can’t help but feel as if this is a very very bad idea.

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Skinwalker in the Pines – Duplicate

(Hey everyone, Spades here – It was really awesome to see one of my stories end up in a video, and I’m hoping to maybe even do that again if I can write that well! Thank you for all the support. )

(This story was told to me by JakobLmao on Reddit, and will be told from his point of view from here forth.)

I’ve had a draft of this story set up for a while before I gained the courage to share it. It made me question… everything. My faith, my eyes, my friends, and worst of all, my sanity. I’ve decided it’s time to let someone else know about this, maybe that will help me move on… at least, that’s what I hope. For my sake, and maybe even yours.

Read more “Skinwalker in the Pines – Duplicate”

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