#crypt.txt

I TOLD YALL I WAS GONNA COME THROUGH

(its 4:56 am….I have work later.)

The sound cut right through me the first time I heard it, while I was out walking one of the dogs on a black night where even the stars didn't shine, and the wind whipped across the open ground like the icy kiss of death. But the scream chilled my bones far more than any winter wind ever could. I hurried inside, keeping a tight grip on the leash as the dog tried to pull towards the source of the scream.

Appalachia is home to far more than people and animals. There are things in the deep woods and hollers that we dare not name, because there's power in a name. We simply call them boogers and haints, and we leave it at that if we know what's good for us. Or we try to explain it away, blaming a strange noise that sinks claws into our hearts on a bobcat or a deer. Maybe even a coyote.

But I've never heard an animal that sounds like this. No deer I know of can scream with such terror that seems to come from several throats. No bobcat can make a sound that surrounds you on all sides, changing whether it's closer or farther from you than it was the last time you heard it. No coyote shrieks on the darkest of nights like a woman meeting a grisly end.

I've never had the courage to venture out and cross the road late at night to wander towards the source of that many-voiced scream. Or maybe it's that I've got plenty of courage but not enough stupidity to take my chances with a creature I've never even laid eyes on. But my curiosity feels stronger on some nights, and we've all heard what happens to those who are curious. Unlike cats, I don't have nine lives to spare, and I'd rather not have my dying breath pulled from my lungs by the hands or the fangs of this creature. I have to remind myself of this more than once, when the scream wakes me in the middle of the night and I start to wonder what exactly is out there. I'm safe in my bed, I tell myself. Whatever is out there can stay out there, and I'll stay in here.

And yet...