I had always felt most at peace in the wilderness. Growing up, i spent every free moment exploring the vast forests near my rural home. As i got older, my love of the outdoors blossomed into a career.

After college, i became a wilderness guide, leading hiking and camping trips for visitors to experience nature's beauty. Anyways this isn't important

Nature was My solace, and i often went on solo backcountry excursions to unwind when i wasn't working. One warm autumn weekend, i planned a 4-day camping trip deep in my favorite forest, seeking solitude amidst the changing leaves. i packed my well-worn, but reliable gear into my old pickup truck early that Friday. I also brought a Rifle as the territory was known for frequent animals attacks But i wasn't worried, i rather saw this as a challenge.

After arriving at a parking spot, i started hiking, i had hiked a couple miles into virgin woodland, i tried finding a secluded ridge with sweeping treeline views. i pitched my tent just as dusk fell, lighting a small campfire, As night closed in, i sketched wildlife sights in my journal by the fireglow.

Waking refreshed, i explored nearby meadows and creeks throughout Saturday, i was completely at ease in these quiet, hidden places. This went on for a few days.

so I had been camping alone in the woods for several nights. Each evening, I would build a small fire at my campsite next to my tent for cooking and visibility during the night. For sanitary reasons, I had dug a shallow hole a short distance into the bushes, to relieve myself, i didn't want my camp to stink after all

One particular night, under the light of my flashlight, I ventured a bit farther than intended into the dark foliage to take a leak. As I was returning to my tent and campfire, my surroundings appeared more disorienting in the night than I had realized. Though I carried my light and had my knife attached to my belt for protection, navigating precisely to the campsite proved trickier than anticipated.

Upon emerging from the bushes and shining my flashlight towards my tent, a bizarre sight met my eyes. Silhouetted within the canvas shelter sat an odd, inhuman shape. Its proportions seemed unnaturally long and lanky. Startled by the presence of this unknown entity so close to where I slept, my first instinct was to confront it verbally. "Hey, I can see you in my tent! Come on out!" I shouted forcefully. Yet, the figure did not stir or show any reaction, remaining stock-still and statue-like.

When I saw the creature not moving at all, I grabbed my rifle for protection, unsure of its intentions. I didn't wait around, deciding to head back to my truck, I had chosen a camp location further away from people, wanting to be alone in nature. As I slowly walked away from this inhuman creature, I heard a loud scream. I looked back at the camp, and the creature had disappeared, vanishing in the few seconds I had taken my eyes off it.

I didn't want to panic and remained calm, thinking that if it wanted to harm me, it would have done so already, perhaps while I was sleeping. However, I was still very scared when I saw it. As a skilled hunter, I knew I wasn't entirely defenseless. I decided to head back to my truck, Half-way is where I saw the Rake-like creature waiting for me, as if it knew I would be coming that way. It screamed aggressively, and I aimed my rifle and shot at it. It didn't react at all, not even flinching. When it was close, I used my rifle as a blunt weapon and hit it. Eventually, the creature backed away into the forest, managing to bite me in my arm.

After that abnormal encounter, I walked at a rapid pace, not sprinting to avoid exhausting myself and giving away my position. Around 10 minutes later, I could hear it following me. Thinking it didn't know I was aware of its presence, I decided to use this to my advantage. I had made a torch with a piece of wood and a cloth I had on me. When it was close, I lit the torch and tried to scare it away with fire, but it just wouldn't react. So, when it came close again, I lit the creature on fire, and somehow, it worked. The skin of the creature was burning, and it screamed in pain. I used this opportunity to run, as I wasn't that far from my truck.

Upon returning to my truck, i threw open the driver's door and climbed inside, slamming it shut behind me. where I had a radio, I contacted the emergency services but found It just didn't have a signal. I inserted the key in the ignition, After not even leaving the Forest, I caught sight of the creature reflected in the rearview mirror. It was crouched on the floor of the truck bed.

I think it might have jumped in the Back of my Truck, Before i even arrived at My truck Hiding under a Large piece of Cloth I had laying there. it emerged from it while i was driving.

he was staring straight at me with soulless eyes. I could see him in my rearview mirror, i Iooked behind me then, Before I could react, it launched itself on top of the Truck, I tried slamming the breaks, Yet he remained perfectly steady on the top of my vehicle, but it maintained its grip. Yes somehow he could remain motionless on top of my vehicle, I knew i wasn't driving that fast, But still This is something unnatural, as i was contemplating what to even do now, It had started Punching the window, with impossible strength.

The Glass Shattered, He emerged from the window with it's face, With all i could i punched in what was supposed to repersent a face, but to no prevail, he grabbed me By my shirt, As he dragged me out of the Truck, The last thing I saw was its ghoulish face looming over me before it dragged me screaming into the darkness of the Forest.

The abandoned vehicle was later found by authorities, my remains never to be found. Whatever lurks in those woods is not of this world, and it will not rest until its prey is killed. The creature has tasted blood and will not stop hunting. Where it came from and what dark purpose it serves, Nobody knows- I am now but one more lost soul consumed by the shadows of this Beast.

Hello, what do you think about Nina the Killer?

basically i have 2 choice of vehicle i can choose to make a creepypasta between a Mobile Operation Center or the Phantom Wedge but idk which one to choose so i ask the community to choose one of these for me it might take some time to make a creepypasta for them because i ran out of ideas so give me your tought about these ones

Just figured I should hop on the trend but I don’t just want soul-crushing ones I want ones that would also kind of make me think and or feel things. Or maybe even just a classic graphic creepypasta, hell, or a monster. Whichever one works for me just looking forward to reading again! 😆

No sé si soy el único pero de pequeño recuerdo haber visto un vídeo en Youtube de un Gameplay de Plantas vs Zombis Versión China, recuerdo que era de un hombre grabando en una PC donde estaba jugando en Modo Supervivencia en el mapa de día clásico donde tenía que evitar que los zombies llegaran a la linea roja, el eligió varias plantas como Girasoles, Nueces, Lanzaguisantes y Troncos Antorcha, y una planta peculiar que era un girasol reina, con una corona y un vestido de rey, luego de haber plantado a la reina girasol que creo que hacía que recogiera los soles que caían del cielo automáticamente, en un punto había plantado un girasol en la parte izquierda inferior, en el borde donde al lado había mazorcas cañón y mas nueces pero al hombre se le ponia la pantalla en negro, parpadeando, luego me di cuebta que cada vez que se apagaba y volvia a encender la pantalla la plantas del hombre que había plantado desaparecían, Haci paso un rato parpadeando al punto de que ya ml tenia plantas, incluyendo la reina girasol, habia desaparecido exepto el girasol de el borde que cuando se acerco un zombi perdió la partida, solo que cuando apareció la pantalla de Game Over al fondo se podria ver que el girasol tenia la cara distinta, tenia una sonrisa pintada mirando a la pantalla directamente, despues de esto automaticamente salio de la partida y no pude ver mas por que me asuste, y es que de pequeño era muy miedoso, no se si ustedes lo recuerdan por que caundo lo busque hoy en la actualidad nunca encontré ese vídeo, solo están los recuerdos.

so one day i was just playing left 4 dead 2 with my friends, we were having a lot of fun and we made it to the last stage, my friends were getting attacked by a tank so i tried running to help them but then i saw text at the bottom of the screen saying "press LT to shove hagrid away" i was confused and i turned to see hagrid standing over me blood coming from his eyes and he said in a really distorted voice "youre a wizard" i freaked out and shot him but then my game crashed. after my game crashed my computer made strange sounds and i heard hagred laughing, my computer then shut down and i heard a noise from behind me... it was hagrad from the ps1, he stared at me with blood leaking from his eyes and he had no eyes, he said "you may be a wizard but you wont be alive after im done with you" then he hit a mean griddy and dissapeared. i was shook and had to msg my friends that i had to go but i didnt tell them about hargid. when i went to bed i had a dream, a bad dream, a dream about hragid, i dreamt he was chasing me down the streets of the left for dead 2 high way map but i couldnt outrun him, he was gaining on me until he pounced on my and pinned me to the ground, i woke up after that and realised i just had a wet dream. i mean how could you resist that suculent body, the peak male physique, he had to be using his powers to make me think this way. in the morning when i was walking to school i heard a rumbling and then a large "HRNGUH" i looked to where the sound was coming from in an ally way and i saw some large mass duck behind a bin but i couldnt make it out because the all way was dark since it was night time, i walked away muttering to myself about how if that was hagrid then dumbledoor was really penny pinching, when walking away i heard a big crash which made me turn back to the all way, i saw hagrid standing half out of the all way holding a bloodied umbrella, he said "Never Insult Albus Dumbledore In Front Of Me" i should not have said that, i turned to run as fast as i could but when i looked back isaw hargard running at an olimpic pace and i thought i would make it but my hose was close by. i made it back to my house but hagrid bust down the door saying "Dry Up, You Big Prune", i screamed and bolted up to my room to hide, i hid under my bed and then higrad walked into my room making weird grunts, he opened my closet door and then walked out of my house. to this day i dont know what demons i saw, i can never watch harry potter the same way again, and the one time i tried hagrid stared at me through the screem but when i looked away and looked back he was back to normal

https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Chocolate_Man,_Chocolate_Man

Please give feedback and constructive criticism.

Is there anywhere I can basically read a summarised version of the longer and very scary Creepypastas? I'm a baby and get scared easily by them but also want to know the stories and enjoy them and my curiosity gets the better of me. It's a vicious cycle 😅 I read horror movie synopsises and plots all the time so I don't have to have allllll the fear by watching them. Is there a way to do this with Creepypastas so I can still know the story but not freak myself out too much, a "lite" version if you will? I also struggle to read large chunks of text so the longer stories are hard to stay focussed on. I know it's maybe a controversial opinion/question but I'm sure I'm not the only one?

Hey guys wanted to share my backrooms lore with you guys :) I'm still working on it. What do you think? The encounter is rare but could the person that wrote it be hiding something from us?

I want my daughter to win miss America and I told her that I could make her win miss America. My daughter was super excited that I was going to help her win miss America and this brought us closer. I haven't had much of a relationship with her but this I can actually help her. I told her that to win miss America is actually more harder than it looks, and it doesn't just require looks. I drove her to some menacing forest where a creature from the old days still resides in. My daughter was confused as to how this was going to help her win miss America?

I told her just to go in and in a week I hope that she will survive. In a week's time I was pleased that my daughter had survived and she told me that the creature had played mind tricks on her. It chased her around for ages and she only managed to escape by tricking other people to get the creatures attention. She feels so ashamed of herself of what she had to do to survive. I was so happy for my daughter as this will make her dreams of becoming miss America more real.

Then I took her to an empty deserted town and I told my daughter to get out and after a week I will pick her up. After a week I was pleased to see that she had survived and my daughter told me that some of the residents are zombies or just insane, she had to resort to killing. She is so traumatised and she is ashamed at herself at what she had to do.

To escape from a cannibal family, she witnessed the cannibal wife giving birth to a still born child. The husband cannibal being dumb, she made him believe that his wife had cheated on him with death and that's why the baby came out still born. The husband cannibal became angry and killed the wife and even ate his wife. She managed to escape without being seen.

My daughter was traumatised enough to win miss America or any main stream competition show in America. When my daughter tried out for miss America her sob story of all that i had put her through, had won the hearts of the judges and the American audience. She even won miss America and I was so proud of her and her career has been made.

https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Chocolate_Man,_Chocolate_Man
It's based on this creepypasta called candy man that I remember Jaystation summoned once, If I can recall correctly.

Tired of seeing conventionally attractive goth girls with no mutalation what so ever, like in her story she was burned by Jeff and then given a mask and wig she’s gonna like be mutalated

Anyhow have a good night

The Charcoal Makers

Written by: The SandmanTSM

Tucked away in the shadowed embrace of the Carpathian Mountains, lays an isolated and remote village named Ebonvale. A village shrouded in ancient whispers, clinging to its primeval history as old as the gnarled trees guarding its borders. I have desired to study their culture multiple times thru my career as an ethnographer and an author, but never had the opportunity. My relentless pursuit of the obscure and free time now that I had officially retired, finally paved way for me to truly enrich myself in the ways of the Ebonvale people. I’ve heard many tales over the years of their people, but even in the world of cultural studies we have quiet the rumor mill of old wife’s tales, so it has always been a goal of mine to examine the town for myself and make some sense of the vague and peculiar stories. It has been said that many within the community have suddenly vanished without a trace. My hope is to find the answers to these disappearances, as no formal reports have ever been filed outside of the small and destitute community. And who knows maybe I will finally become the best-selling author I’ve always wanted to become.

The road to Ebonvale was a serpentine path, weaving through dense forests where sunlight seldom trespassed. There were no definitive roads, only a dirt trail that was broken by many footsteps. The winding and indistinct path had me turning in circles multiple times. I tried to follow my compass as best I could but on multiple occasions, it too seemed to have me wondering about aimlessly. The forest is so thick through the untouched thicket of the mountains, I quickly realized that this was not going to be a simple walk thru the woods. Instead, I spent several nights camped out along my journey with nothing more than a flash light, writing books, a few changes of clothes and some MREs. I feared even starting a fire for warmth, because I had heard rumors of the towns people having a strong cultural attachment to fires and worship. Its important not to offend and be respectful when attempting to be embraced by a civilization, especially when conducting research.

“Hey stranger,” a man said to me, interrupting my thoughts. I saw a man walking through the brush with a woman. The last thing I expected right now, was a couple of people walking up to me on my camp site at night while I was vulnerable. As his machete swung high and true, came down with a swift motion to cut the last few tree branches in his way. I let out a sigh of relief. As he came closer to me with his flashlight aimed directly at my sleeping bag, he introduced himself as Lorenzo, and his wife Maria. They were apparently just hiking for fun and this was their “weekend getaway.” Maria was a mother turned influencer as she wanted to show women everywhere, that they could make simple and lavish dishes while supporting her family of 5. Within an hour, I knew about their whole family as if I was apart of it. Nico was really good at soccer, while Isabella had a chess tournament that she had come in 3rd place. Apparently, there was one other kid who prevented a stale mate and finished the game within 6 well thought out moves. I went in on a long conversation about my dog shortly after. My dog Claire was beautiful, as I described. She was pretty much my daughter until I felt I was ready to have kids of my own. I knew I was very late at this stage in my life, but I didn’t care. I still wanted the “Family” life with Elizabeth. I felt bad for not talking about her as much as I should. We had a fight right before I left and it made me uneasy talking about my wonderful life, even though I had problems that needed mending. I said some things I shouldn’t have, but sometimes I need my space and I don’t like feeling someone on top of me all the time wanting confirmation of my love. I guess you could say I was trying to fix the mistakes I made in life and leaving my home like the way I did, left one more thing to add to my to-do list.

After talking so much that night, I just listened and enjoyed their company, before I would go back to keeping to myself. Our conversations were filled with family, plans, and what the future held. Life is definitely precious and should never be taken for granted.

As the morning sun moved slowly across my face, paying attention to my eye lids, I woke up and saw that Lorenzo and Maria were gone. At that moment, I knew I had to do the same.

After several grueling days in the forest, I had made my way to Ebonvale. Upon my arrival, a heavy mist clung to the village like a cloak, and the air was thick with the scent of burning wood. The architecture was a mosaic of medieval charm, each structure telling tales of the past with their timeworn stones and thatched roofs.

The villagers of Ebonvale’s faces were etched with the sort of resilience born from isolation. Their greetings were of short nods, but their eyes were flickering with a curiosity as they saw me, clearly the new comer. At the village's heart stood “Anora’s Mill”, an inn that looked weathered for centuries. Its wooden sign creaking eerily as I entered. I found it odd for such an isolated village to even have a place for visitors to stay. I thought to myself, after several nights alone in the elements of mother nature, I was relieved to have a soft place to lay my head and water to bathe my sore body.

Agnes, the innkeeper, was a woman of advanced years, her back bent but her eyes sharp as she welcomed me. "A rare sight, a stranger has stumbled upon us" she noted. "What brings you to Ebonvale my dear?"

"Stories," I replied, my gaze wandering over the inn's rustic interior, adorned with relics of the past. "I'm here to unearth the tales buried in these mountains."

Agnes offered a knowing smile, one that hinted at secrets unspoken. "Ebonvale has many tales my dear, but some are best left undisturbed," she warned with a grin, handing me the key to my room. I made the decision not to press her for information, since this was my first night and I didn’t want to cause mischief so quickly.

As night fell, I lay in a bed that creaked with age and a small lantern burned next to a box of tissues on a table right next to the side of my bed. The wind outside whispered through the cracks, carrying with it, faint indistinct murmurs. I assumed it was the rustling of leaves, yet a part of my mind trembled at the thought of something more. Something darker in nature. To be so far removed from the outside world was like stepping back in time, hundreds of years back. This feeling brought with it an eeriness of feeling more connected with the past.

The following morning, I ventured further into Ebonvale, my footsteps echoing on cobblestones worn smooth by time. The villagers went about their daily routines, their interactions were short and their smiles were brief. In the center of the village stood an ancient oak tree. Its branches knotted, under which old men sat, their conversations a tapestry of local lore. I approached them, introducing myself and my quest for knowledge. I was met with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue. "You seek the stories of Ebonvale?" asked one, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of years.

"Then you must know of the Charcoal Makers."

The term struck a chord, a whisper of a legend I had stumbled upon in my research. "Yes, the craftsmen of the famed Ebonvale charcoal," I affirmed. "But I sense there's more to their tale."

The old men exchanged glances; their faces momentarily clouded with unease as one of them blew their nose into a handkerchief. "The Charcoal Makers are not mere craftsmen," another spoke, his voice riddled with annoyance. "They are guardians of an ancient pact, a tradition that has sustained our people but has cursed our village in equal measure. They are the reason as to how our village has been able to self-sustain itself for all these years."

My interest now piqued, I pressed for more information, but they fell silent, with their lips pursed and their eyes urging me to seek answers elsewhere. Their words, though brief, led me to at least believe that some of the rumors I had heard of this place, stem from some truth.

Determined, I spent the next couple of weeks exploring Ebonvale. The sense of an unseen veil blanketing its truths growing with each passing day, would not leave me. It was not until I encountered the village's outskirts that I came upon the kilns. Nestled in a clearing, away from prying eyes, stood rows upon rows of archaic kilns, their stones blackened by endless fires. Here, the Charcoal Makers toiled, their figures covered in cloaks, their movements deliberate and shrouded in a somber ritual that did not break pattern.

As the evening fell quickly upon me, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. A sudden urge to sneeze came over me and I bent down to bury my face in my knees and arms to cover the sneeze as much as I could. Looking up, I felt relieved that no one heard me and I decided to leave and return to Anoras Mill. Hearing the creaking sound of that old sign in front, I blew my nose, then shoved the piece of toilet paper back into my pocket. Agnes stood there at the front desk, her expression grave. "You've seen the kilns," she said, not a question but a statement. My mind wondered; had I been followed? Who passed this information on to her? Or could she just sense it?

"Then you must have questions,” she said.

I nodded, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. I decided to cut to the chase, as she seems to know how far along, I am in my research.

"Tell me about the Charcoal Makers," I urged. "What is this pact, the old men speak of?"

Agnes sighed, the weight of her years evident in her posture.

She led me to a quiet corner of the inn, her eyes glancing around as if to ensure no unwanted ears were listening. “Tread lightly, fore you will find the answers you seek,” she said.

“I have traveled far and wide to find this place. Please, I need answers,” I said in a some what demanding voice.

“As you wish, my dear. The tale of the Charcoal Makers is as old as Ebonvale itself,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “It is said that long ago, our village faced ruin. Crops failed, disease spread, and darkness loomed over us all. Out of desperation, the village elders made a pact with something ancient and unfathomable that dwelled within the forest. We dared not to journey there, but it was our last hope.”

She paused, her hands trembling slightly. “In exchange for our survival, we were to offer a tribute. Not of gold or livestock, but of a far more sinister nature. The Charcoal Makers were formed, a group bound by blood oath, to fulfill this grim obligation.”

This revelation sent a chill down my spine. “What tribute?” I asked, though a part of me dreaded the answer.

“The bodies of the dead,” she replied, her eyes clouded with sorrow. “And sometimes, when the dead were not enough, those on the brink of death or the ones we deemed to be a nuisance to us, would pay as tribute.”

I struggled to process her words, the horror of it all clawing at the edges of my mind. “And the charcoal?” I managed to ask while fighting the urge to sneeze again.

“The charcoal,” Agnes continued, “is said to be imbued with the essence of those sacrificed. It burns with a heat and intensity unlike any other, a constant reminder of the price we paid for our existence.”

The pieces of the haunting puzzle began to fall into place – the peculiar nature of the charcoal, the whispers in the wind, the way the villagers looked at me, a stranger in their midst. Ebonvale was not just a village; it was a land bound to a legacy filled with darkness.

The days that followed were a blur of haunting discoveries. I found myself drawn to the kilns, watching from a distance as the Charcoal Makers performed their somber duty. The smoke that rose from the kilns seemed to carry with it, the silent screams of the lost, the air heavy with a palpable sense of mourning.

I began to notice a sudden influx of hikers and tourists coming to Ebonvale, their faces bright with curiosity, unaware of the village’s sinister underbelly. Some left soon after their arrival, but others that stayed too long, began to show signs of a strange malaise. Their vitality seemed to wane, their eyes reflecting a dawning horror as the whispers, once only heard by my ears, began to invade their own. I too, felt different after being here this long. But I feel it was my motivation to find answers, that kept me going.

That night, tormented by the secrets I had uncovered, I confronted the Charcoal Makers. I found them in their sacred clearing, the fire from the kilns casting an otherworldly glow on their cloaked figures.

“Why?” I demanded, my voice raw with emotion. “Why continue this horror? You know deep down in your heart, this is wrong.”

One of them, the leader, I believe, stepped forward. His eyes, when he lifted his hood, were pools of endless anguish and grief. “We are bound by blood and curse,” he said, his voice a hollow echo of despair. “To break the pact, is to doom Ebonvale to the darkness that we once narrowly escaped. We are prisoners of our own survival.”

My heart started racing as his voice echoed in my ears and I feared that everything I heard was true, and I would be next. I ran out of the clearing with a heavy heart, the weight of their curse bearing down on me. Ebonvale, for all its unusual charm, was a village lost to time and damned by its own desperation.

I was left in shock of everything that I had learned. In the back of my mind, I questioned, why was I able to leave so easily. The Charcoal Makers did absolutely nothing to stop me. Why was I able to leave so easily? They did not chase me. They did not call out for me to stop. There was no one sent after me to hunt me down. So many thoughts ran through my head. I felt that I would leave with more questions than I had come with. In my final days in Ebonvale, the village took on a ghastly aspect. The whispers were no longer just in the wind; they seemed to emanate from the very stones and trees, a chorus of the damned that only I could hear.

I planned to leave, to escape the nightmare that Ebonvale had become for me. My body felt weaker and weaker. My eyes developed huge bags under them. My skin had a grey tint to it that resembled that of ash. And I have never had to blow my nose this many times before in my life. With each piece of toilet paper that I blew my nose into, only showed me how much soot was in my nostrils. I just wanted to go back home. My safe place, and leave this behind. I wanted a fresh start and a new career. But on the eve of my departure, a fierce storm descended upon the village, as if the land itself was conspiring to keep me here.

In the heart of the tempest, I ventured out, drawn by an inexplicable force to the kilns. I had no control over my body. Something guided me as it knew exactly where it wanted me to go. One foot after another, my legs keep moving throughout the forest until I came across the kilns. There, amidst the roaring flames and the howling wind, I witnessed the horror that bound Ebonvale in its cursed pact.

The Charcoal Makers, their faces twisted in agony, fed the kilns not with wood, but with bodies – some lifeless, others barely clinging to life. The realization that the charcoal, which had warmed me during my stay, was borne of such unspeakable acts, filled me with revulsion and despair.

I felt a strong cold hand from behind, lift my head slightly, so that I could see the most horrendous act I had ever seen. My eyes became wide as I was not able to blink to help rehydrate them. One of the Charcoal makers, grabbed Lorenzo by his neck and held him in the air with ease. His fist became tight as he raised it high above his head, almost as if he was savoring the moment. With an almighty force, his fist came down like that of a hammer directly in the center of Lorenzo’s head, instantly leaving his body limp. Dropping him to the ground right next to Marias lifeless body, the rest of the charcoal makers started ripping his clothes off before putting him into the kiln. Maria was next. One of them picked her up by her neck like a rag doll, and threw her body into the kiln. Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. Maria wasn’t dead. It appeared like she was playing dead just to wait for an opportunity to run. It didn’t work. Her screams over powered the howling of the flames. And in an instant, I could feel her pain as I saw her try to grab the mouth of the kiln. Even from this distance, I could see her skin start to split and peel from her face as she suddenly became quiet. The screams stopped. With the flames roaring fast, it soon engulfed her body and you could no longer see her. Being burned alive was never a fear of mine, until I saw it happen right in front of me. I just met them not too long ago. After having a long conversation with them, I felt as if I knew their whole family. What would Nico do without his dad coaching him and helping him get better at soccer? Would Isabella be the next Bobby Fischer? But more importantly, did Lorenzo and Maria come to Ebonvale on their own free will? Or were they hunted like game? So many questions filled my head as I felt my life flash before my eyes. My life can not end this way. Damn my curiosity. There were so many things I have not done. I’m sorry Claire.

Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for every fight we had. There were times I knew I was wrong, but I would not back down. My pride wouldn’t let me. I’m sorry for not proposing to you for all of these years. We have been together for 10 years, and I have wasted every single one of them by not making you, my wife. I just wished I had told you where I was going. Or anyone.

As I stood there, paralyzed by the scene before me, the leader of the Charcoal Makers approached me. His tall stature looked down upon me with his black lifeless eyes. He just stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at me trying to look deep into my soul. “You cannot leave,” he said, his voice barely audible over the storm, but very commanding. “You came here with questions, and now, I shall answer them. Our story, is not one filled with happiness. We have been here for centuries feeding from the land and taking care of it as our own. We were very simple people who lived a hunter-gatherer life. Our women and children, were the very souls of this community. Always planting and harvesting for everyone. Bringing us joy with their smiles as bright as the sun. But misfortune took hold of us and would tighten its grip. Fires and droughts have filled our lands, making it near impossible to harvest our crops and feed the young. Disease spread quickly and was unforgiving. Many of us, took our own lives as to not face starvation. Our children, the ones who we were supposed to protect, were dying. Succumbing to the cold winters, many of us were left weakened and unable to be cared for. We prayed and prayed until our faith ran no more. So we turned to the forest for our salvation.

We made a pact with the “Ancient Ones,” to spare our village of misfortune and darkness. This pact, is not an easy one to uphold and comes with a price. We had learn to become numb to others suffering. This has been a ritual for years and we will not stop. I am sure you wished you had never ventured these lands.

People such as yourself, frequent these lands and disrupt our way of living. You bring nothing but negative influence and sickness. Feeling sorry for us and trying to bring your way of living to us like we are unable to take care of our own. Year after year, you litter the very ground you walk on. And it only gets worse. I have seen so much, but I continue to my duties to keep my people alive and well, no matter the cost. You come by the many and you come by the few. You left your home of solace. You came in search of answers to your questions, in which do not concern you. But they do now. The whispers have claimed you. You are a part of Ebonvale now and part of its curse…….”