[0:02]When I was a junior, there was a senior named Tyler Brennan, who was also the Lacrosse captain. I'd been crushing on him for two years, and my friends kept saying he was definitely into me. I believed them. That Saturday, there was a huge party at the house near Watcom Falls Park, right on the edge of town. Tyler was supposed to be there. But my parents wouldn't let me go out, so I climbed out my window at midnight and snuck out. By the time I arrived, the house was packed and the music was thumping loudly. I saw Tyler by the pavement, laughing at something his friend had said. I spent the next hour working up the courage to say hi to him. He was nice and offered me a drink. We talked for five minutes before his friend called him over. Hey, uh, I'll be right back. he said. After half an hour had passed and he still hadn't returned, I started looking for him. Someone told me they saw him go upstairs, so I went up and found him in a bedroom, making out with Jessica Martinez, one of the popular girls. They were so lost in each other that they didn't even notice me. It felt like my heart was being ripped open. I walked out without saying goodbye to anyone. I was crying, feeling stupid for ever believing someone like Tyler would be interested in me. I kept walking, heedless of the turns I was taking. When I finally looked up, I was in Watcom Falls Park. The park was dark and empty. Fog had rolled in so thick that everything looked like a dream or a nightmare. The pain in my chest was still intense. Without thinking, I walked deeper into the fog, following the paths with no one else around. After about 15 minutes, I realized how reckless I was being. I was alone at night in a deserted park. I looked around and felt chills down my spine. Slightly shaky, I pulled out my phone and called my brother Mason. He was home from college for the weekend and answered on the second ring. Delaney, it's 1:00 a.m. Where are you? The Watcom falls. Can you come get me? I said through hiccups. Jesus, stay put. I'll be there in 10 minutes. I sat down on a bench near the main path and waited. The fog was getting thicker, and I could barely see five feet ahead. All of a sudden, I heard leaves crunching behind the bench. Mason? I stood up, turned around, and gasped. A man was crouched behind the bench, staring at me. I could hardly make out his face, but as he slowly stood up, I could see his twinkling eyes. He flashed his teeth, making a slurping sound. Hey there. He sang, chuckling. I backed up. I'm waiting for someone. That's okay. I can wait with you. He stepped closer. I could see his face now. It was wrinkly and so hollow. I could count his bones. What's a pretty young thing like you doing out here all alone? I'm not alone. I am my brother is coming. He'll be here any second. The man chuckled. Sure he is. What's your name, sweetie? Ignoring him, I started walking toward the exit, fast. Come on, don't be rude. I'm just being friendly. He followed. How old are you? You look young. 16? 17? I didn't answer and walked faster. The fog was thick, and I could barely see the path. You shouldn't be out here all alone, you know. Where do you live? My heart was racing. I could hear him behind me, could sense he was close. But when I glanced back, he disappeared into the fog, only to reappear right next to me. I screamed and jumped away. He laughed and vanished back into the fog. This is fun. His voice came from somewhere and everywhere at once. You're fun. I ran flat out toward where I thought the exit was. The fog made everything confusing, and I got turned around and lost. I saw the gate, the park entrance, and relief flooded through me. The man stepped in front of it, blocking my way. He wasn't smiling anymore. Where are you going? He moved closer. We were just starting to get to know each other. I backed up and hit a tree. Sweat glistened on my palms as he kept coming closer. Just leave me alone. He stopped inches from me and leaned in close. I could smell cigarettes. His eyes were dark and empty. If I kill you right now. he whispered. No one would even know. You'd just disappear. Another missing girl. happens all the time. I couldn't breathe or move. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I was shaking. Delaney! Suddenly, Mason called out from outside the gate. A man's head snapped toward the sound. Delaney, where are you? My brother appeared through the fog. He was 20 years old and built from playing college football. The man looked at him, then back at me. He grinned and started backing up. We'll pick this up next time. he whispered, before he turned and disappeared into the fog. Delaney! Mason saw me and ran over. Are you okay? What happened? I collapsed and started sobbing. I couldn't talk and just held onto him while everything came out. Mason called the police, and they searched the park, but found nothing. They took my statement with the description of the man, what he said, and what he did. They added it to their files and told me to be careful. I'm starting college this year, far from Bellingham and that park. But I still think about that night and how close I came. About what would have happened if Mason had been five minutes later, or if I hadn't called him, or if the man had decided not to wait. How many girls did it probably happen to? And how many didn't have a big brother to save them?
[6:38]I live in Seattle, Washington, in the Capital Hill neighborhood, where the bar stayed open late and the fog rolled in thick off Puget Sound. That night in November, I'd been at my buddy Tyler's place, drinking and playing poker. We'd had two much whiskey and beer, and it proved to be a bad combination that made my head spin. I left around 2:00 a.m. I should have called an Uber, and that would have been smart, but I was only six blocks from home and broke from losing at cards and stupid from alcohol. I figured I could walk it. Outside, the fog was insane. The thickest I'd ever seen in 10 years living here. You couldn't see five feet ahead of you. Street lights just glowed orange through the gray, like dim underwater lights. Everything was muffled and dead quiet, except for my footsteps echoing weirdly. I was halfway home when I heard the whistling. It was some old tune I didn't recognize, coming from behind me. I thought maybe someone else was walking home, but when I stopped to check, I couldn't really spot anyone, and the whistling stopped right when I did. As soon as I started walking again, the whistling started up, too. Even with all the haze, I could tell it was perfectly in sync with my footsteps. Hello? I called out, but my voice got swallowed by the fog. I pulled out my phone and used the flashlight and pointed it behind me. All I could see was a gray wall of nothing. The whistling continued with the same tune over and over. It was getting closer. I walked faster, and the whistling matched my pace. My heart started hammering in my chest. I felt sobered up and sweaty. After about five minutes, I hit a clearing. It was one of those intersections with a working street light. The fog was thinner there, and I could see maybe 15 feet in each direction. My steps halted. I squinted in the dark and saw her. The woman was some eight feet tall and impossibly thin. She was standing in the darker part, where the street light barely reached. Perfectly still. My hands started shaking, as I watched the fog literally passing through her body, like she wasn't solid. Suddenly, she slowly started walking toward the light, and her face came into view. I nearly screamed and fainted at the sight. Her eyes were wide, with pupils tiny like pin pricks in white marbles. Her face was completely blank, devoid of expression or emotion. She was only staring straight ahead without blinking. My eyes fell on her hands hanging at her sides. They were covered in blood that was dripping all over the sidewalk in heavy drops. I looked back at her face. She was still staring. My gut told me to bolt, but the smarter part of my brain was like, Nope. Don't run from predators, and definitely don't let them see you sweat. I started walking at a normal pace, with my heart hammering and hands shaking. Pretending everything was fine. The whistling started again behind me. It was closer now. I didn't look back and just kept walking with one foot in front of the other. As the fog swallowed me back into the gray, the whistling got louder. She was following, and I could hear her footsteps now, heavy and dragging slightly. All of a sudden, the whistling cut out, and my legs just froze up, like they had a mind of their own. I could feel this heavy, ragged breathing right next to my left ear. I turned my head super slowly, terrified of what I was going to see. And there she was, right behind me, just inches away, so close I could have reached out and touched her. But instead of a head, her neck was sliced clean off, like someone had taken a sword or an axe and chopped it. The whistling started up again, coming from down low, near the ground. I slowly glanced down, dreading what I was going to see. She was holding her own severed head like a basketball. Its bloody hands grinning widely up at me with unblinking eyes, still whistling that awful tune. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It felt like I was about to faint. I screamed at the top of my lungs and sprinted at full speed through the fog. I couldn't see where I was going, but it didn't matter. I just had to get away. I could hear her dragging footsteps right behind me. She was picking up speed, her whistling was turning into a high pitched laugh that I felt in my bones. I hit my street and recognized the houses. I fumbled for my keys and my hands were shaking so bad, I dropped them. I picked them up and got the door open. I slammed it behind me and locked it with the deadbolt and chain. I collapsed on the floor, breathing hard and covered in sweat. The whistling was right outside my door. I could still hear the same tune over and over. It maybe lasted 10 minutes before the creepy silence fell. I crawled to the window and looked out through the blinds. The fog was still thick, but nothing was there except for an empty street. I got sick that night with a fever that spiked to 104. Throughout the night, I was hallucinating and seeing her in my room with that headless body and a smiling severed head. The fever broke after three days, but I stayed in bed for two weeks. I couldn't eat or sleep without seeing her. It's been years. I still live in Seattle, but I've quit drinking and stopped walking home alone at night. I take Ubers and cabs, even though I really can't afford it. And when that thick fog rolls in, I stay indoors, lock up, and pull the blinds shut. Because sometimes, late at night, I still hear the tune and giggles coming from somewhere in the fog. And I know she's still out there, roaming the streets. Looking for the next person to follow home.
[13:17]I'm a tech sales guy from Portland, Oregon, and I'm on the road a lot, driving between different towns. This night was supposed to be totally standard. I was heading back from a client meeting up in the hills outside the city, and figured I'd take the scenic route, which could actually shave off 10 minutes. The fog started rolling in at around 8:00 or 9:00. Before long, it got so thick that my high beams were completely useless, and all I could see was this huge white wall in front of my car. I had to drop down to 20 miles an hour, but I still couldn't make out the damn road. If it wasn't enough, my GPS cut out totally as well. I kept driving anyway, thinking maybe I'd reach a safe location, but when the road started looking weird, with turns I didn't recognize and no mile markers or signs, I pulled over. I checked my phone. I only had one bar and zero data. I tried calling my girlfriend, but it wouldn't go through. Google Maps was a bust, too. I sat there for maybe half an hour, waiting for a car or anything to drive by. Finally, I had to pee super bad. So, I got out and went into the woods a little way off the road. I found a tree and started going. All of a sudden, I heard digging, with metal hitting dirt in a rhythm, close by. I zipped up and moved toward the sound. Through the fog, I saw a man, maybe 40 yards away, digging a pit that was deep and already waist level. Next to the hole, was a sack that was big and heavy looking, with dark stains on the fabric. My blood went cold. I ducked behind a cluster of trees and watched. The guy scrambled out of the hole and headed straight for the sack. He grunted while he hauled it to the edge. The sack dropped into the pit with a wet thud, and dark liquid started oozing out. The guy stood there for a second, staring into the hole, wiping his hands with his jeans. Suddenly, he stiffened and slowly turned his head to stare right where I was hiding. I instantly dropped flat onto the ground behind a bush and held my breath. I could hear slow footsteps coming toward me through the leaves and the fog. He stopped some 10 feet away from me. I could hear him breathing hard. My heart was pounding so loud, I was scared he would hear it, too. I know someone's watching me. he grumbled, scanning the surroundings. I covered my mouth and prayed he wouldn't see me. A few minutes passed by, and when he didn't find anything, he retreated toward the hole. I waited another five minutes, trying to hear his movements. He was back to digging, covering up the hole. So, I slowly backed away, crawling through the bushes. I didn't stand up until I couldn't hear the digging anymore. Then, I totally booked it back towards my car. I burst through the fog, ignoring the branches scraping my face. I was only a couple of feet away from my door handle, when my eyes caught the figure sitting in the back. My whole body froze. Slowly, the rear window hummed down, revealing a blood covered hand, gripping a long serrated hunting knife. Going somewhere? he asked, opening the door. He strolled out, like he had all the time in the world. He started humming a tune, as he dragged the knife right down the side of my car door. Suddenly, he looked over, grinned at me, and bolted. I screamed and ran around the car. I yanked the driver's door open, jumped in and hit the locks with all of them clicking shut. He slammed into the door and tried the handle. He pounded on the window with his face pressed against the glass. I fumbled for my keys, but my hands were shaking so bad, I dropped them. The man then jumped onto the hood, raised the knife and brought it down on the windshield. My whole body started trembling as a spider web spread across the glass. He did it again, and again. The windshield was fracturing and about to give. Somehow, my instincts kicked in. I picked them up and got them in the ignition. I slammed the car into drive and hit the gas. The man fell and rolled off the hood onto the road. I saw him in the rearview mirror getting up, covered in dirt and blood, still holding that knife. I drove as fast as I could through the fog. It didn't matter if I knew where I was going. I only wanted to be away from him. Eventually, I found a main road, then another. Soon, familiar streets appeared. It took me two hours to get home. I was shaking the whole time and kept checking the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn't following. I called the police from my apartment and told them everything. They took my statement and asked for the location. I couldn't tell them. I didn't know where I'd been or the road name. I could only tell them it was somewhere in the hills. They searched and sent units to come the hill roads, but found nothing. My car had the knife marks, the cracked windshield and blood smears on the back door handle, so they knew something had happened. But without a location, they couldn't do much. The case went nowhere. No missing person reports matched the time frame, and no bodies were found. I'm 27 now and still in Portland. I have moved to a new apartment and got a new car. But I try to avoid driving at night, especially not in the hills and fog. Because I know he's still out there, maybe burying more bodies, including people who stumble onto it. And I know, if I ever saw him again, I wouldn't be as lucky and may even end up in one of those sacks he had buried.
