During the time of this event, I lived in a very heavily wooded area, in rural Pennsylvania. Our house was crudely, yet beautifully built in the midst of miles upon miles of thick forests. Our nearest neighbor was a mile down the old, narrow dirt road; and the villiage where we went shopping, and I attended school as a senior, was a 15 mile journey. It was the kind of small, country town where every body knew everybody’s business and there was absolutely nothing to do aside from attending church, getting wasted at the local dive, or in our case, driving around with a pack of your friends..more particularly, driving through Tamarack Swamp, which is laced with urban legends and horror; some of which, I know to be true. And as it is in nearly every haunted corner of the world, over time there developed a ritual of sorts, that one would have to perform in order to meet the entities that dwell within.
On this night, I had invited three of my closest friends over for some shenanigans in my ’97 Chevrolet Cavalier, and then later some video games and pizza at my house. After driving aimlessly for some time, I, being forever curious, suggested we go visit the swamp and complete the ritual. My friends tentatively agreed. After some time, we came upon the entrance: a barely noticeable logging road, cutting through the buzzing wood, alive with wildlife and a certain…energy. I cut off my headlights, and rolled down my window and proceeded with caution, with the half moon as the only illumination. About a mile into the swamp, the air became almost heavy, and I could almost feel the fear rolling off of my friends as I lurched forward with anticipation, straining my eyes to see anything out of the ordinary. At this point, we were about 100 yards from the old bridge where we were supposed to park, cut the engine, then walk across in order to have an encounter with the children who died there.
I slowed to a crawl, as the path had become treacherous, and silenced the low hum of the radio. All of a sudden, my closest friend, Lindsey, grasped my arm and gasped “I saw something in the treeline!” my heart began to beat faster as I scanned the blackness for what she saw. (She would later describe it as a tall black figure with glowing, yellow eyes)
My other two friends, Holly and Santana, start yelping quietly in the backseat, “what did you see!?” — “where!?”
Then, like a wave crashing over me, came a realization. “Guys list–GUYS! LISTEN!” The car grew silent, to match the silence of the thick woods surrounding us, the woods that were NEVER quiet, usually abuzz with insects and amphibians. With the car now stopped, and the windows down, we all strained our ears, searching the stillness for any sound. And then it came. An awful, inhuman, deafening, and gutteral screech. It was as if someone, or something, had screamed inches from the open car window. I could almost imagine the hotness of it’s breath on my skin. Everyone screamed and pleaded with me as I scrambled to get my car into gear and flip on my high beams. As soon as I did so, my foot punched the gas and I gunned it for the bridge so I could turn around. This service road was not through and through, so I had to turn around if I wanted to escape.
On the way back through, I tested fate by keeping my window down a few inches and punched the gas yet again. This time, we were almost out of the swamp when we hear the scream echoing in the trees around us. No creature, from this habitat anyway, could have been able to keep up with us, for that long.
When we were miles into safety, away from Tamarack Swamp, we started to calm down and enjoy the high obtained from the surge of adrenaline. But by now, it was already [10:10], and that was 10 minutes past curfew. We headed towards my house, which was about 10 miles away, dreading my parents wrath.
I pulled into the long drive of my house and immediately noticed, to my delight, that all the lights were out, and both of the cars were in the driveway. They were asleep, and would be none the wiser! We all crept up the walkway and into the house, giggling and whispering the whole way.
–It’s important for you to understand the layout of my house, as it pertains largely to the story. It was a two story house, but only half of the house had a second floor, the other half was the cathedral ceiling, towering over the living room and dining room. The entire upstairs consisted of my parent’s bedroom, their bathroom, and a balcony over looking the first floor . Leading to the second story was a rustic spiral staircase, with open slits between steps and surrounding the whole structure. You could peer between the steps from the very top, and see the cement floor of the basement at the bottom. —
We tiptoed through the kitchen and into the living room, where we all piled on the couch. Then, through our whispers, we begin to hear my mom, clear as day, crying, sniffling, and calling my name “Alissa!? *Sniffle, sob* Alissa!?” Over and over, Almost like a recording on a loop. Her voice sounded haggard, and somehow, hollow. It was as if my brain was struggling to recognise it as my mother’s voice, but it clearly was, right? It sounded exactly like her.
Lindsey and I called back to her as we hurried upstairs, leaving Santana and Holly on the couch. She just continued, as if she did not hear us. When I pushed open the door, the crying immediately stopped. I hurried up to the bed, still asking her what was wrong, only to see that there was no one in it. The bed was still made and hadn’t been slept in at all. My friend then turned on the lights and there was no one. The room and bathroom were both completely empty. My friend and I exchanged a glance, as if checking if we were losing our minds. Then, the crying started up again and panic ensued.
It sounded just as before, and just as far away, but it was like it was coming from everywhere but nowhere at the same time. We got to work looking everywhere, running back and forth, checking in closets and under the bed and out the windows. I yelled down to my other friends to help us look on that level, and they complied.
Having cleared the top level, Lindsey and I ran down the spiral staircase. Well, we tried to. On the second or third step down, we proceeded to fall on top of each other, and out on to the first floor.
“It grabbed me! Something grabbed my leg!” Lindsey screeched in horror.
To paint a picture, for someone, or something to stand on the basement floor, and be able to reach up to her ankle on the second floor, it would have to be about 8 feet tall. We started yelling to everyone to get out of the house, and clumsily climbed onto our feet and sprinted outside. We all piled into my car, and began trying to call my mother, to no avail.
About three minutes later, we begin to see two bouncing orbs of light, moving towards us coming down the dusty road. The orbs get closer and closer until we begin to see the figures behind them. It was my mom and her husband, walking back home from a party at the neighbors house down the road. They were there the whole time. And them being super religious, and me not especially wanting to get some holy water thrown on me, I opted out of telling my mom, and just said that we were out there listening to music, waiting for them to get home.
I have no idea what exactly we encountered, but with my native heritage and being in the deep woods, ive always wondered and dreaded that it might be a wendigo or skinwalker. These creatures come to mind due to the fact that it spoke to me, in my mother’s voice, among several other minor details. Or was it a spirit? Demon? A glitch in the matrix? If anyone has any ideas or experiences similar to this one, please, share them with me! This has been haunting me for seven years. Everyone of my friends there heard it too. We could not have all hallucinated the same thing at once.