WEBVTT
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A peaceful mountain home becomes the setting for pure terror
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as spring begins. What should have been a quiet day
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on the porch turns into a nightmare when something unnatural
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stirs in the tree line. It's tall, it's dark, and
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it's hungry. What's that You want to be scared? Come
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with me. You will experience tales over opera, ghosts, and death.
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It is not recommended for the week. At our heart,
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listen as in the dark, it's more fun at that
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way way. This is Weekly Speaking. Hello, my spookies. It's Wednesday,
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and you know what that means. It's time for a
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little spooky in your weekly. I'm your host and narrator,
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Enrique Kuto, and tonight's story is as chilling as it
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is prudent to the current springtime fun we're all experiencing,
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because when the weather turns warm, other things can turn chilling.
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But before we get to the story tonight, I want
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to say thank you so much for listening, because right now,
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as spring and summer kick into full gear, this is
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the time when only the most hardcore spookies are really
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craving that Halloween fun. So I'm so happy to bring
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it to you. Every single week and on Friday I'll
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be joined by my buddy Dave to talk about the
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original Final Destination as we prepare for the brand new sequel.
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And I want to remind you the first ever signed
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edition of a Weekly Spooky and Strickfield book is available
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exclusively at Weeklyspooky dot Com slash April Fool. It's a
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teen slasher horror novel written by our very own Rob
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Fields in the Weekly Spooky Strickfield universe, and you can
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own a paperback copy autographed by the author. That's at
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Weeklyspooky dot Com slash April Fool. But now, as for tonight,
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they say the woods are alive, that if you sit
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long enough, they start to watch you back. Some folks
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here whispers, others see shadows. But what if the thing
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in the trees doesn't want to be seen until it's
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too late. Tonight's story is about a man who loved
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the view from his port until one spring day the
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trees began to move. So get comfortable, make sure you're subscribed,
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and we'll get to the story right after this. I
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was stalked by a monster from the woods by Michael Kelso.
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I used to love sitting on my front porch, gazing
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at the mountain full of trees spread out before me.
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Each season gave me a new appreciation for the beauty
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of nature. Even winter, which I hate, would color my
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trees in the most pristine white, making them look like
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a crowd of bridesmaids dressed in their spotless gowns, waiting
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for their bride. My favorite season was fall. The explosions
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of colors laid out like a gigantic quilt that changed
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from one day to the next until the last leaf
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floated to the ground and surrendered to winter. I could
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sit there for hours watching. Time would slip away as
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I admired my trees in total contentment. That was before
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I haven't looked at my trees in a long time
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ever since. It was a beautiful spring day. The blossoms
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on the trees were full of color right before the
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leaves unfurled their brilliant spring green. There was a stillness
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in the air. Usually the wind blows non stop down
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the mountain to varying degrees of strength, but it's always there.
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On this day, there wasn't even a puff of a breeze.
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It felt good since the temperatures were only in the
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lower seventies, but something about it seemed off. My trees
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stood silent, unmoving, as if they had also noticed the
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stillness and were awaiting some unseen harbinger of ill tidings.
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As usual, I took solace from such thoughts by admiring
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my trees. As I panned through the colorful buds about
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to emerge, I saw something I didn't expect. One of
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the trees moved. It wasn't much of a movement, just
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a subtle twitch of a branch. I shrugged it off
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as a rogue breeze, but it was only in that
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one spot. None of the trees around it had moved.
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This drew my attention and I focused on the offending spot.
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It was around fifty yards away, just into the tree line,
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near a field. I picked up my binoculars, which are
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my constant companion when I sit on my porch to
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spot various birds and other oddities. I focused on this
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oddity to see if it was merely my imagination zooming
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in on the offending branch. It seemed to be nothing
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out of order at first, but as I gave it
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my full attention, I noticed something odd. There were no
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buds on the branch as strange as that was. The
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next observation I made was the branch was straight as
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an arrow, intriguing but hardly conclusive. But there were several others,
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small branches growing straight up out of it. None of
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these had any buds either. These facts swirled through my mind,
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creating half baked conclusions. When, without warning, the branch moved,
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I watched with rapt fascination. As the branch moved straight up.
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It wasn't like a breeze had caught it and waved
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it around, as branches are wont to do. It went
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straight up, staying completely level as it was before. This
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curiosity captured my total attention, as everything around me ceased
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to exist until I solved the riddle of the moving branch.
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Fanciful thoughts of ents sprang from the favorite stories of
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my youth and well into my adulthood. At the foolishness
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of such machinations, I knew my mind was having a
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bit of fun with me. It was the only conclusion
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that made any sense. This entire foray had been my
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mind playing tricks on me. If only that were the case,
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I would tell this story with the mirth of an
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old man spreading flights of fancy. I was about to
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put down my binoculars and take my mind inside for
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a nap where it could venture out into a proper dream,
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when the branch did the impossible. It moved sideways. It
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was like I was watching a time lapse of the
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branch in its growing cycle. Only none of the smaller
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points on the branch grew. It only got longer. And
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then I saw it. At the end end of the branch,
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there was a head. I'd seen lots of animals during
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my time sitting on my porch, bears, mountain lions, skunks, coyotes,
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but I'd never seen anything like this. It looked like
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the bare skull of a deer. There wasn't an ounce
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of skin on it. It was several sizes bigger than
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the largest deer skull I had ever seen. It peaked
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around the corner and its hand grasped the tree. It
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was skeletal as well. But the worst part was it
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was looking right at me with its empty eye sockets.
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There weren't any eyes that I could see. My mind
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didn't give me a minute to ponder if this was
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a figment of my imagination. I was out of my
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chair inside and locking the door behind me. Before I
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knew i'd even gotten up. The last thing I remembered
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was how high up on the tree the head was.
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It must have been close to eight feet tall. I
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ran through the house, locking all the doors and windows,
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wondering how much good it would do if that thing
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decided it wanted in. My closest neighbor was a mile away,
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and I began wondering if this wouldn't be a good
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time for a visit. While I stood in the middle
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of my kitchen, panicked and indecisive, trying to figure out
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what to do next, I realized, to my horror that
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I had left my binoculars on the porch. The thought
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that this nightmare of a monster would run up and
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steal my binoculars was totally ludicrous, but if I wanted
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to check through the window to see if it was
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still there, they would be quite invaluable. Convincing myself to
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retrieve them, though, was another matter. Entirely U sh it
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was only the wind, your safe, weekly spooky will be
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right back. I slowly approached the window that looked out
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onto the front porch, as if it were the monster
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waiting to grab me. And drag me to its layer.
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With great trepidation and using more than my fair share
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of courage, I stepped to the window and peeked out
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through the curtain. My initial reaction was pure joy. As
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I no longer saw the monster in the tree line.
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I began chuckling to myself for the prank my mind
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had played on me, and making all sorts of excuses
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for what the apparition was. The smile fell from my
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face when I saw it standing in the middle of
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the field. Not only was it far beyond the horror
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my imagination had presented, but it was a good twenty
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yards closer to my house. The nightmare stood easily eight
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feet tall and had a massive rack of horns that
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went straight out in either direction at least three feet.
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What I could see of it was skeletal. There was
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no skin at all, except for the cloak that was
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draped over its shoulders and fell to mid calf. The
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cloak looked rough, like it had been made from the
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skins of other animals. Those unholy empty eye sockets were
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staring straight at me. I froze as terror gripped me
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and managed to squeeze every ounce of fluid out of
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my bladder. It took a step towards me, then another.
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I knew there was no way I'd make it across
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the driveway to my car before it caught me and
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tore me to pieces. My mind started throwing out anything
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and everything it could. Call someone was the most plausible.
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I pulled out my phone from my pocket and dialed
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nine one one, nine one one, what's your emergency? Came
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the wonderful sound of rescue. I I'm being stalked by something,
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I said, Do you mean someone? No, it's definitely something. Okay,
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describe this something for me. I gave the best description
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I could of the monster, not daring to look out
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the window for confirmation of my details. Uh huh. The
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operator said, well, give me your address and I'll send
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over a cryptid hunter as soon as possible. Oh okay,
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my address is the line disconnected? Hello, I said desperately.
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I tried calling back, but it just kept ringing. Hiding
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didn't seem to be an option. It was obvious from
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the animal skins it wore that this thing was a
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very proficient hunter. I assumed that meant it had a
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good sense of smell and would be able to sniff
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me out of any hiding place in my home. My
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next option was to leave. I went to the kitchen
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and grabbed my car keys, hoping to slip out unnoticed.
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Those hopes were dashed when I looked out and saw
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the monster walking up my driveway. I ducked behind the door,
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eyes darting around, looking for anywhere to hide. To this day,
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I don't know why, but I ran to the drawers
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and grabbed a butcher knife. What good it was going
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to do against a monster that was entirely bones was
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beyond me. But I wasn't exactly calmly considering my options
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at that moment. The first crash splintered my outside door.
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The second crash destroyed it. The monster ducked its head
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and stepped inside my mudroom, staring right at me. I
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had three options. Run to the living room, go upstairs,
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or down to the basement. I have no idea why
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I sprinted toward the basement door. I shut and locked
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it behind me as the inside door broke into pieces.
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Making my way down the steps as quickly and quietly
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as possible, I listened to the floorboards creak above me,
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looking around the semi finished basement with just enough room
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to stand if I ducked my head. I quickly discovered
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that there was no clear cut hiding places. The footsteps
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above slowly made their way back to the living room,
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then up the stairs. For a brief, fleeting moment, I
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thought about going back up to the kitchen, when the
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basement door flung open. The steps groaned under the weight
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of the monster, and I was overwhelmed by the stench
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of death. I ran back to the short hallway toward
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the outside cellar door, but I knew it was too
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heavy for me to open it from the inside. Standing
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there helpless like a deer in headlights, the oil furnace
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kicked on. It had been a nice day, but the
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furnace still kicked on from time to time to keep
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the temperature where it was set. It didn't run for
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more than a minute before turning off. The oil tank
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sat beside the furnace, with both of them set a
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short space away from the wall. I dashed over behind
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the furnace and tried to stuff myself between it and
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the wall, making myself as small as possible in hopes
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that it might somehow not see me. It wasn't long
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before I heard the scrape of bone on the concrete
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floor getting closer and closer. My life expectancy had shrunk
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to a matter of seconds. I wondered if anyone would
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ever know how I met my gruesome end, or would
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my story be a mystery, an urban legend, like so
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many others that live near forested areas and suddenly disappear,
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never to be seen or heard from again. Don't go away, weakly,
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Spooky will be right back. The sniffing was my death knell.
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It drew closer as the horns appeared in front of me.
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My only advantage was the horns couldn't fit between the
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oil tank and the furnace. I celebrated a small victory
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that this hellish monster would at least have to put
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forth some effort in order to get me. It struggled
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to reach behind the furnace, almost to me. The only
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thing that stopped it was leaning against the furnace and
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drawing back as it cried out in pain from the heat.
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Realizing my hiding space was compromised, I darted behind the
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oil tank, hoping the bulk of the tank would hinder it.
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I scooched as far as I could into the corner.
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There was only a small clearance between the tank and
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the wall, maybe a foot. I knew it couldn't get
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00:20:06.839 --> 00:20:10.119
in here, but that didn't mean it couldn't reach me.