‘As I turned to leave, I caught sight of something that made my heart pound against my ribcage. A journal lay haphazardly on the ground, its pages yellowed with age, ink smeared as if in haste. Against my better judgment, I flipped it open. The handwriting was erratic, full of exclamation points and frantic scribbles. “I hear them every night. The whispers. They know. They see me. It?s too late. They?re coming for me…”
Killing the Dead
Camp Lanier
Humans are The Prey: Confidential Park Ranger Accounts of Strange Disappearances, Bigfoot, Dogman, A...
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2025-04-23