Creeps, true stories from Reddit (Second book)

How to Survive Camping: I'm worried about the lady with extra eyes

I run a private campground. I'm happy to report that my diet has improved since my last post. I've switched to thin vegetables, like asparagus. I mean, sure, there was the charred corpse of a snake mixed in with them when I pulled them out of the oven but I'm way more okay with snakes than I am spiders and at least it's not hiding inside the actual food I'm planning to eat.
Bad years are just the worst.
Anyway, if you're new here, you should start at the beginning and if you're totally lost, this might help.
There's been a lot of people expressing concern about the lady with extra eyes, especially since there haven't been any sightings for a little bit. I was less worried, as it's fairly typical to go for weeks or longer without anyone seeing her. These are solitary creatures on my campground, after all, and they are typically seen only when they're out looking for a victim. Which, thankfully, is not all that often otherwise my campground wouldn't be able to function at all. While the more benign creatures around here - such as the fairy or the lady with extra eyes - don't go hunting for prey, they tend to only show up on occasion as well. They aren't human, after all. They're not aggressively social like we are and they don't "adopt" creatures that aren't like them. When a human comes across a lost puppy, they take it home. When these inhuman things come across a lost human... they eat it.
However, I got a call over the radio the other day that's got me worried. One of my staff was out checking the boundary of where the lady in chains is located. I've gotten enough volunteers from town to narrow down where she's located. We didn't really push her into the area, we just confirmed that she wasn't currently in a couple other parts of the camp. Unfortunately, she's in the biggest area right now. It's densely wooded and we only put campers back there during the really big events and even then their camps are sparse and far-flung. There's some footpaths but not many roads. I've been thinking that maybe I should build some roads back there to divide it up and make it easier to corner the lady in chains, but when there's roads... people will use them. I'm not sure I want people wandering back there in groups of one or two during open camping days or the smaller events.
Isolation is dangerous on my land. The large events at least provide safety in numbers to make that portion of the campsite usable.
I'm leaving the warning tape and roadblocks up where they are. I'm not at capacity yet and don't need that land. That won't happen until mid-summer. And the further I can keep my campers from her area, the better.
At least she's in part of the land that is up against a property line. It's not a lot of fun when she appears in the middle of the camp. She can cross roads. I think it hurts her, though, so we really have to force her over. It's harrowing. While she won't get close to us when we're equipped with talismans, she'll still lash out with the chains. One of my staff lost an eye one year when one struck him in the face.
And before you ask - no, I'm not certain which talisman she's vulnerable to. Playing 'guess and check' with an angry spirit is not a smart idea, so we sew literally everything we can think of to a safety vest and go out equipped with that. Yes, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds. So next time you're like, oooo Kate is a badass, just try to envision me wearing a bright orange vest with reflective strips and a flea market's worth of stones with holes in them, glass beads in the shape of eyes, and winged penises hanging off of it. I'm sure that'll ruin it for you.
Hey. Don't judge. Winged penises were used by the Romans to ward off the evil eye.
Anyway, one of my staff radioed in that they were standing outside the lady with extra eye's house. This wasn't the good news I was hoping for, however. The lady didn't appear to be home. The interior of the house was dark and the fireplace - usually found boiling water to make tea for the guest - was unlit. My employee wanted to know if this was typical.
"I have no idea," I replied, stalling for time as I dug through the cabinets to find her file. "I don't recall anyone reporting finding her cabin empty, but then again we have enough family members living on this property that campers might assume it belongs to staff. That and the whole 'tiny house' craze."
We've been seeing a dramatic increase in those, starting about four years ago. At our bigger events it is now quite common to find clusters of trailers that have been artfully decorated to look just like houses nestled away in the trees.
I flipped through my collected notes for a bit while my employee waited patiently. Finally, I had to admit to him that no, I really didn't know if this was normal or not. Then he added something that made my blood run cold.
Her garden was overgrown, he said. It was choked with weeds and the tree in the backyard hadn't put out leaves.
I told him to give me his rough location and then to stay there. I'd come out myself and take a look.
I'm sure you're mentally running through scenarios, just as I was. Just as I still am. The man with no shadow had the not-brother as a pawn - what if there were others? Perhaps he hadn't gotten to her, but someone else did, either before or after his disappearance into the belly of the thing in the dark. Could be she had a run in with the lady in chains that ended badly for her. Or maybe she's left. She said she wouldn't help me ever again and what if this is why - what if by helping me, she's been made to leave the campground? I can't claim to understand the little alliances and agreements that these creatures have with one another. There may even be some other law at work here, some rule to how the world conducts itself and she can no longer be in proximity to me, for reasons I don't understand.
I wish I knew.
I hadn't quite reached her house when I found my employee on the road. My first instinct was annoyance - hadn't I told him to stay put? Then I noticed how quickly he was walking. Not jogging, but certainly keeping a fast pace. He kept looking behind him, as well. I pulled the four-wheeler up in front of him, turning it sideways in case we needed to make a quick retreat.
"Harvesters," he said tersely as he approached. "I saw them in the distance and thought I would get out of here before they spotted me."
Certainly, I would have preferred if he'd stayed near the lady's house, but I can't blame him. He hadn't been at the campground long. A little over a year. My cousin's roommate, a friend from... I think his soccer team? He'd had trouble getting a job and my cousin suggested he work for me and he needed a place to live that was closer to the campground so my cousin let him stay and also got some help with the rent.
He'd been told about the rules, of course, and after my cousin convinced him it wasn't a hoax he sobered up and considered the risks and took the job anyway. Could be excited, he'd said. Certainly would make for some interesting stories. Excitement aside, he wasn't keen on losing a finger or a part of his ear, though. So I hopped off the four-wheeler and let him take it over so that he could get out of the area faster and avoid the harvesters. I just asked in what direction he'd come from, so that hopefully I could still find the lady's house.
I got lucky. The forest hadn't swallowed it back up yet. It is desolately empty. I approached slowly, listening to my surroundings, watching the light playing through the canopy around me. Searching for any indication as to what was wrong here. For it was very, very wrong. The tree that'd once been a person hunkered over the building and it seemed like it had shrunk from what I remembered, that it was curling up on itself like a child hiding under their covers for comfort from the dark. Its branches were stiff and there wasn't a trace of green at their tips.
It could be that the person it once was is ready to finally leave this world behind. I don't think that's the case, though.
The stones leading up to her front door were overgrown with weeds. The yard was similarly derelict, the flowers choked by tall grasses and thorny plants. The curtains were drawn over the windows but I could tell the interior was dark. No fire burned in the hearth inside. The house would glow with its light and warmth, otherwise.
"Hello?" I called out.
I stepped on the first of the stones. My voice sounded unnaturally loud. My footstep echoed and I hesitated, uneasily scanning the forest one more time. So quiet. At least I'd brought my pistol with me. I dropped my hand to where it sat on my belt.
And thank goodness I practice good trigger discipline because I would have shot my damn foot out of surprise when a scream rent the silence.
For a moment I was disoriented, turning in a circle in my panic to locate the source. Nothing around me. Just the trees, silent and still. Then my brain adjusted to that sudden spike of adrenaline and I mentally calculated - it wasn't from the house. It was coming from close by, but not my immediate vicinity.
The road. It was coming from the road I'd taken to get here. The one my staff member had gone down to avoid the harvesters.
Look, I'm worried about the lady with extra eyes. Something isn't right here. I wanted to check inside and I knew that if I left I'd probably lose the chance to do so for a long time, if not my only opportunity. But I have to protect my staff.
I turned and ran, away from the house, back to the road. I followed his cries, growing steadily shorter and more panicked. The cries someone makes in a struggle. He was fighting back.
I swore in my head. I'd told him. I'd sat him down and explained the rules in full, not the abbreviated version that the campers get. He'd been told not to struggle. Now... god knows what they'd take from him. A leg? A kidney? A length of his entrails? I felt sick just thinking of it. I'd certainly cleaned up after those messes in the past, of both the victims that were left alive and the ones that weren't.
I found him being dragged along the road by two of the harvesters. They each held him by one of his arms and were pulling him through the dirt on his back while he kicked and screamed. More harvesters were waiting for him, four in all, a short distance from the four-wheeler. I called to them. Tried to get their attention. One turned to face me.
"Could you just - not?" I panted, stopping a few yards away. "I need everyone I can get. For the lady in chains. Could you grant an exception this time? In the interests of getting rid of a mutual enemy?"
It considered my request. It really did. I could tell by its expression - though I could not see the details - and by the way its head tilted slightly to the side.
"You won't be able to stop the lady in chains," it finally said. "Humans are fallible. You don't even carry the weapon that we gave you. You're still too weak and can only drive her off for a time. Be grateful that we're taking steps to combat her ourselves. We're better prepared."
The knife. That damn knife that was made with the bone and sinew of my great-aunt. The one they vivisected. Of course I didn't carry it. It is a vile, hateful thing. I can barely look at it. My chest feels tight when I do, like there's a scream trapped inside me that can't come out just yet. I clenched my jaw and dropped my hand to my pistol, considering. I had immunity from them, but I wasn't sure how far that would extend.
The two harvesters hauled my employee to his feet. One of the harvesters stepped towards him. My employee's eyes were wide, the pupils dilated in terror. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the thing in the harvester's hands.
It wasn't a scalpel.
It was a raincoat.
And the harvester unfolded it while the two that held him twisted his arms back, holding him by the elbow to make it easier to slip the coat on over his wrists.
"No no no no," I shouted, drawing the gun. "This is not better!"
I fired. I aimed for the nearest harvester's center of mass. The bullets punched through its torso and ashen sand drained from the wounds. It took a step towards me, seemingly unaffected, and I emptied the clip, hoping to hit something of importance inside that raincoat. Then, when the gun clicked empty, I realized that I didn't have extra ammunition on me. It was all at home.
So I threw the gun at the approaching harvester.
Look, I'm doing the best I can, okay?
The gun spiraled in a lopsided arc and went straight through the harvester's face and hit the back of the raincoat's hood. It jerked it back, revealing the gaping void behind that inscrutable face.
Slowly, deliberately, it raised both hands and raised the hood back up. It stared at me the whole time. Its brethren also stopped and turned to stare at me. My employee, panting hard in the clutches of the two harvesters, resumed his frantic struggles.
There was one last thing to try. Maybe I could buy him time in the commotion. I ran at the harvester and threw myself at its legs, intending to bring it down and then grab the leg of the one next to it. If I could knock them both down then perhaps I could get at the ones that held my employee before they recovered. Or at least foul things up enough for my employee to be able to free himself.
It was kind of like tackling a tree. My chin hit flesh and bone with a flash of pain that signified an impending bruise that is currently covering most of my left jaw. And then the harvester grabbed my ponytail and threw.
My back and shoulder-blades hit a tree. All the air was knocked out of my lungs in a rush and I fell to the forest floor, unable to suck in oxygen. I lay there, writhing and finally gasping as my lungs released, and then my employee began to scream again. Not in terror. Not in exertion.
In agony.
I stumbled to my feet. They had the raincoat on over his arms and were drawing it up to his shoulders. And the sleeves... the sleeves were twisted all the way around. Like wringing a wet rag. And like a wet rag... they dripped.
Blood rained from the remains of his arms. Bits of bone punctured the fabric of the raincoat like ivory needles. He collapsed to his knees, shrieking, and the harvesters surrounded him. Their movements were slow and deliberate.
Gentle.
They pulled the raincoat around his body and I heard the zipper as they drew it closed under his chin. Then - a crunch - a grinding noise as bone splintered, and his screams ended abruptly with a wet cough. Silence reclaimed the forest, broken only by my ragged breathing and the drip of blood into the puddle that spread at the feet of the assembled harvesters, far too much blood for the dirt to drink so quickly.
I staggered forwards, grabbing hold of a nearby tree for balance. The harvesters drew back and I saw, rising in the center of their circle, was a figure in a raincoat and when it raised its head, I could not make out the face.
"I hope the lady in chains kills you all," I snarled at them, picking my way carefully to the waiting four-wheeler.
I tasted blood in my mouth and I brought it to the fore of my tongue and spat it into the dirt in their direction. They exchanged glances and I felt that something was passing between them. They were considering something. I mentally gauged the distance between me and the four-wheeler, wondering if I could sprint that far before they grabbed me if I had to.
"You don't even carry the knife," one finally said. "You're not very useful to us."
From somewhere, one of the harvesters in the rear of the group produced another raincoat. They stepped towards me in unison.
I bolted. I sprinted the last couple of yards and threw myself onto the four-wheeler, not even looking at anything except for the key in the ignition and the road ahead of me.
A hand closed on my shoulder. Trying to drag me backwards. I twisted just enough that I could bring my fist around and at the last moment I changed my trajectory, my hand going past instead of into its face, and I grabbed its hood instead and pulled it back.
The harvester let go. Its hands reflexively grabbed the raincoat hood and drew it back up, or so I presume, because the four-wheeler's engine was started and my hands were on the handlebars and I was flooring it out of there.
I'm a campground manager. I'm doing the prudent thing and cancelling the open camping next weekend. We've got an event this weekend, but it's small, will be in the field and not the woods, and won't have any overnight campers. I'll put up some plastic fencing to contain people to the field and it should be fine. I've got to do something about this madness though, because I can't allow people into the woods - not even my own staff - while the harvesters are recruiting.
I've never seen such a thing. This is unprecedented. Ever since the man with no shadow killed my uncle I've felt like my tenuous control over this land is unraveling.
I don't know. Maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe the lady in chains will kill off the harvesters or vice versa. I really don't care as long as one of them is gone. I'll deal with whatever's left.
At this rate I'm almost looking forwards to rusalki's week so I can shut the whole damn camp down and get a bit of breathing room in which to sort things out. [x]
Read the full list of rules.
Visit the campground's website.

Posted by u/fainting- -goat