Game 16 - The Hunt for the Book of Shadows

[Jib]

My name is Dr. John Isaac Benson and I am about to descend on a dark enigmatic adventure in hopes of finding answers to mankind's deepest fear. I was just a well-mannered anthropologist at Washington State University, yet the dreams I have been having these past months have proven to be quite unnerving.

In these dreams, I keep seeing visions of Maryland's Black Hills Forest, of strange macabre sightings, of a mysterious woman capable of great and terrible power, a distorted voice, and a long-lost hidden library that holds a grimoire that the voice calls "The Book of Shadows." Yet, most frightening of all I have dreamt of Earth's destruction, mankind's demise, and all things fading into darkness. Visions of this world's end, and the beginning of a monstrous and unholy era.

There has been a lot of global cultural hoopla about a rumored apocalypse close at hand, yet most people dismiss it as a bunch of mumbo-jumbo that will never occur within our lifetimes. Until I started having those strange dreams, I used to be one of those people.

These dreams led me to have a deep conversation about the ultimate fate of the world with a Mayan elder. The elder seemed grim when reciting what the "spirits" told about what lies upon the horizon, so much so, that when I tried prodding further into what he knew, out of sheer terror he refused to say anything more.

This alone was startling, yet it became even more frightening when I had a similar conversation with a pagan cult leader who also claims to speak to spirits. He told me that this world is in for a grand climax that has been building for millenia. When I asked for the details, he began to turn pale with fear and would say no more. Just like the elder before him.

To top it all off, I then have a buddy who works with NASA, and he has been hearing bits and pieces of something mysterious and unnerving that has all those at the top of the association speaking fervently behind closed doors. He attempted to seek more information on the matter, but in doing so, he was warned that his pursuit would jeopardize national security and that he would be detained for treason. They were strict with this warning, but that hasn't stop good ol' Samuel from telling me, his closest friend, abotu what little he knew.

So when I think about it, I ask myself "How are my dreams, a Mayan elder, a cult leader, NASA, a haunted forest in Maryland, a mysterious "woman," and a "Book of Shadows" all tied in to some sort of apocalypse occuring?"

Such a question has led me to Burkittsville, Maryland, which is a long way from the state of Washington. I asked the townsfolk what I could about the forest, the woman, and the Book of Shadows. They knew nothing of such a book, but they told me that the woods are apparently haunted by the spirit of this woman, who is known as either Elly Kedward or the Blair Witch, and that it was the place where three student filmmakers disappeared years ago while shooting a documentary.

Some of the denizens have claimed to see the Blair Witch wander "her" woods, as well as see the ghastly faces of the children murdered by Rustin Parr in the 1940's. Apparently, it was the Witch that drove Parr mad into committing the murders, and it was one of several acts that has supposedly desanctified the forest.

When I tried asking about if any of the Blair Witch lore as to do with the apocalypse, the best answer I got was that before the arrival of the colonists, there was a mysterious Native American tribe that lived near this area. While much about them is wrapped in shadow, they believe that there have been five worlds before us and that mankind is living in the final world. Each of these worlds would give way to either light or darkness, and it appears that this world of light shall soon be extinguished. Legend even has it, that before they mysteriously vanished, a young Kedward spoke to them to gain insight about this world. It would seem that whatever it was that she learned it would seem that it ended up contributing to her becoming the entity that she supposedly becomes.

So that is my story and why I am now on the edge of the very forest that is said to be haunted by the Witch. I am accompanied by two strong and quick-witted graduate students, Adam Pulaski and Marco Martinez, and my green crystal skull George. The skull is very special to me, my first blow to eradicating my skeptic and atheistic views on life. Yet it was the dreams and the pieces of the big puzzle I started putting together that really began to make me wonder. Still, I feel comfortable having George with me, though I doubt he can protect me from any sort of harm, unlike Pulaski and Martinez.

We stand at the forest's edge, bearing camping material, food, survival supplies, cell phones, a camcorder to record our trek, a portable radio, and weaponry for self-defense. I even have a journal to write this whole adventure down, regardless of whether or not we actually find the grimoire. How I expect for us to find it, I have no clue, but if I can connect the dots between my dreams and the sites within the forest, then we may yet find it. Already, we are standing on the forest's edge, and it is exactly how it was envisioned in a couple of my dreams.

It is Sunday, October 21st, the same date that those three student filmmakers went into this very same forest and were never seen or heard from ever again. I will admit that I am scared to take this trek, but I am also afraid of what may be in store for all of the world. It would seem that my options are either wait for an imminent death in a matter of weeks, or delve into the woods and expediate my death to be in a matter of days. Either way, I feel like I am doomed, but the answer is obvious: If I am going to be inevitable annihilated, I might as well have some answers as to it all.

With these last lines, we begin our trek into the woods. Both my companions seem calm, yet I am quite scared of the things that are to come, whatever they may be. For all I know, we may not even come out of the woods alive, let alone fail to find the dark and enigmatic grimoire.

[Tweek]

Robert Blake was born in Maryland, spent most of his life in Burkittsville, and was, of course, familiar with the stories of the haunted woods and the Blair Witch legend. It was a thing impossible to avoid growing up in that place. Nothing exciting ever happens around there, but when it did ...it was never a small thing. Blake was in his late twenties in 1994, the year those three Montgomery College students went missing. The year the outside world seemed to shine a big bright light on the sleepy town and its shadowy past. The national media, federal and state law enforcement, the curious and the dangerous - they all invaded Burkittsville at once, like a great crashing wave. In time the tide receded. Things returned to something approaching normal. The rude tourists came less frequently with their questions and their cameras and their vandalism. Life went on.

So when Dr. Benson and his group hit town and started asking questions, Blake took notice. He followed them about town as they conducted their interviews, always staying out of sight and skillfully avoiding any direct contact that might force him to have to interact with the men. Through careful eavesdropping he learned that they were heading to the forest, apparently searching for some lost book or manuscipt having to do with... shadows? Blake knew of an old book kept by the Historical Society for a time called The Blair Witch Cult. It was never put on public display there, and he secretly doubted if the thing actually existed at all. Surely someone in town had told them about that one. This must be something else.

Blake did not consider himself a bad man, but when opportunity presents itself he is not one to look away. Times were hard. He was unemployed, low on cash, and homeless as of two days ago. The outlines of a plan formed in his head to follow these rich fools into the woods and rob them. Who would know? Who would see? And if they actually find what they seek? So much the better. He'd just steal that too. Sell it on eBay to the highest bidder.

Pawning the last of his remaining valuables, Blake purchases a quality pair of boots, a used backpack, and a few days worth of food. He locates his quarry at the forest's edge and keeps himself well hidden, waiting for them to enter the woods. As the long minutes creep by, he frequently pats his front jacket pocket to assure himself that his loaded handgun is there. It is.

[Jib]

It was the early morning of the 20th, one day after we arrived in Burkittsvile and questioned the town folk about the local legends. My companions and I have just entered into the forest and we are traveling deep. We hope to make it to Coffin Rock within the afternoon, so we are traveling as efficient as we can without rest.

After a good while of traveling, I then heard Pulaski yell "Hey, Dr. Benson! Is that it over there!"

Martinez and I then came running up to where we stood and saw that it was indeed Coffin Rock. With Martinez holding the camcorder in play, I stood in front of the site and recited the legend of the human sacrifice that occured there and the appearance the site has had in my dreams. I even raised the question of what it has to do with the Book of Shadows, but gave it my educated guess was that it was suppose to be a dark sacrement for the dreaded the Blair Witch and foul things altogether.

Once we had pinpointed that site on our map, we continued on foot in hopes of finding the graveyard of the cairns. As we delve ever so deeper into these woods, I cannot help but feel a sense of forboding, almost as if we may be doomed to the same fate as those three student filmmakers before us. Not only that, but I get the eerie feeling that we are being watched. Could it be the Blair Witch? Or perhaps an uninvited local? Regardless, my party and I shall keep our guard up no matter what happens.

It is soon dusk, and after hiking for a whole day, though it seemed like it went on forever, we began to discuss making camp very soon. It is then that we come across three cairns in our path. The three of us stopped dead in our tracks and I could actually feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

"It appears we have come across a smaller counterpart of the seven cairn graveyard that we seek." I blankly stated.

Martinez looked at me and asked "What does this mean?"

I pondered that question for a moment, and what came to mind were the names of Heather Donahue, Joshua Leonard, and Michael Williams. Rather than mention those filmmakers, I replied "I have no idea. Perhaps this forest is home to two little cairn graveyards."

"But what does this one in particular mean?" Martinez persisted. "I mean, we know that the other one stands in memorium of the seven children that were killed, but what about this one?"

"Perhaps, it may be for those hikers who vanished 18 years ago." Pulaski suggested.

"Yes, that may likely be so, Adam." I commented. "However, I suggest we keep on moving and try to find another spot to make camp."

My companions agreed without question and we kept moving on for what I estimated to be fifteen to twenty minutes. It was at that point that we had absolutely no choice but to set up camp.

So together we erected up our tent and gathered lying pieces of wood for our campfire. We then set about to cooking hotdogs over the fire, and as our food cooked we began discussion:

"Do you think we'll actually find this so-called "Book of Shadows" out here?" Pulaski asked me.

"I believe so. At least, I hope so." I replied. "It is strange to turn to the woods to look for a book, but my visions told me of a strange hidden library out here. All we can do is keep hiking and hope to stumble upon it."

"Do you think it really will answer any questions concerning the hype regarding the end of the world?" Martinez asked.

"Again, I hope so." I said. "For years, I thought that theory was totally bogus, but now I am not so sure about that anymore. I would like to believe that it is all nothing and that we truly have nothing to fear. I really do."

The two of them nodded in agreement.

"Regardless, I hope we can get this business over with, so that we can go back to Washington soon." Pulaski stated.

"Indeed." I commented. For I knew that on the East Coast, the hit radio talkshow, Coast To Coast AM, would not come on until 1am. Back in Washington, and else where on the West Coast, it would come on at 10pm. Still, that has not stopped us from packing a portable radio.

Once the hotdogs were done cooking, we then got out the buns and our condiments of ketchup, mustard, and even barbeque sauce, and then we enjoyed our dinner. There is just something about hotdogs that are cooked over a campfire that is separate from being cooked on a grill.

After that course, we then got to roasting marshmallows for s'mores, and I then brought up the topic of guard duty "Listen, gentlemen, all day I have been gettig this strange feeling like we are being watched. I don't know why, but I do think each of us should take turns with guard duty while the rest sleeps."

"I'll do it." Pulaski volunteered without hesistation.

"Excellent, but are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah. Besides, I am having a great time hiking and camping. I ain't worried about any witch or outsider." Pulaski said optimisticly.

"That is wonderful of you, Adam." I said. "The way I see it, each of us should be on watch for three hours or so throughout the night. Remember, we did not bring along any arms for hunting now, did we? I am hoping that we won't have to use them, but it is best to be prepared, hence why I got the special permits for them."

"Hey, it's cool. In fact, I'll take my turn after Adam." said Martinez.

"Alright then, Marco. I'll take guard duty last and I'll be sure to wake the two of you up in the morning." I replied.

We then enjoyed our s'mores and then Martinez and I went into the tent to get some rest while Pulaski stood on watch, shotgun in hand. After a long day of hiking, a good night's rest really sounded like the ticket.

I had no clue how long I had slept for, but I was abruptly awaken by Pulaski, who was shining the flashlight into the tent.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Pulaski said, sounding uneasy.

As I was trying to get my bearings straight, I saw that Martinez had turned the camcorder back on.

"What's going on?" I asked Pulaski.

"You guys are not gonna believe this...but I just heard some strange cackling. I...I don't think we're alone out here." Pulaski said, seeming rather scared.

"Cackling? You mean...like a witch's cack-" Before I could even finish my sentence, we then hear crackling outside, like tree branches are be cracked. While this was not the laugh that Pulaski had heard, this cracking of tree branches was quite strange. Especially since it did not seem to come from just one particular direction.

[Tweek]

From a seemingly perfect hiding place one hundred yards south, Blake hissed a scorching expletive and quickly ducked his head down. This task was not going to be nearly as easy as he thought. He had followed the three men much deeper into the woods than he planned. He wasn't sure of his exact location anymore, and he had grown up around here and thought he knew these woods well. His late father had brought him out here hunting many times when he was a boy; those skills were now being put to full use once again. Staying downwind and at a distance that would hide him from unfriendly eyes while he watched and silently followed. The group did not detect his presence at Coffin Rock, nor did they seem aware of him as they set up their campsite later that day. Blake chewed on stale candy bars while the smell of roasted hot dogs and s'mores wafted through the trees and teased his growling belly all evening. It's a wonder THAT noise didn't give him away. But his luck held. Somewhat. They had an armed man standing guard, so robbing them as they slept was now out of the question. Smart. Very smart. Perhaps these men weren't quite the rubes he made them out to be. Blake would not underestimate them again.

It was that awful noise that sent him scurrying for cover and cursing under his breath. The terrible sound had come from his general direction, somewhere very near him. He was much more angry than frightened by it; that owl - or whatever it was - nearly gave him away. Blake reached for his gun, removed it from his pocket, and quietly released the safety switch with his thumb. Damn! If they investigate that sound... things could get ugly. Real fast. That would bring them much too close. He'd either have to risk movement out in the open... or jump out and confront them right here. And the guy with the shotgun had made that a risky proposition at best. The odds were not in Blake's favor either way.

Damn. Both of those options stink. Big time. Time to come up with a third one. Fast.

[Jib]

The three of us just remained motionless in silence as we heard the crackling all around us. Branches breaking galore, and yet it did not sound like anything was coming towards us or moving away from us.

I then broke the silence by saying "Well, perhaps we should go out and investigate. Goodness knows what we may find."

I unsheathed my pistol and went out of the tent with Pulaski. I noticed that Martinez remained inside, and I could tell that he was shaking with fear.

"Why aren't you coming out with us, Marco?" I asked.

"I just don't want to." he replied.

"Scared, huh?" I commented.

"Nah, I just don't want to come out right now."

"Well, if that is the case, could you at least watch the camp for us while we head out."

"Sure, but give the camcorder to Adam."

So Marco ended up remaining behind at the camp, armed with a shotgun of his own, while Pulaski and I headed out to investigate the noise. We had no idea which direction to take, since the noise was all around us. So we then figured that we should go into the direction where the eerie laughter came from.

As we crept, toward that direction, we became more and more unnerved by the crackling around us. What was going on?

"Hel-" Pulaski attempted to shout, but I quickly covered his mouth and shushed him.

"Do not let our presence be known!" I hissed quietly at him. "If you hear some unfamiliar noise, you do not go about shouting "hello", even if you have company with you."

"Sorry, I couldn't help my-"

"Don't be sorry. Just don't let it happen again."

We then continued further, but we then stopped dead in our tracks when we heard the laugh, this time coming from the direction from which we came from.

"Maybe we should head back." Pulaski suggested.

"I'm sure Marco can handle himself. But if he does need our help, chances are he would let us know. If you know what I mean." I replied. "So for the time being, just keep filming."

We then kept on walking until the light of my flashlight unveiled footprints in the ground. They seemed to be situated around this very spot, like someone had been standing around waiting, but then they dart off into the dark. Plus, the shoes of the prints did not match the footwear my companions and I wore.

"It appears we may not be alone in these woods afterall." I commented.

"You think it's the Blair Witch?" Pulaski suggested.

"I don't think so. If anything, it appears we have an unwanted guest out here or something." I replied. "Though, I doubt this person is responsible for that strange laughter we just heard. Unless, of course, they have the speed of a cheetah, and I don't think that's the case."

"What should we do?" Pulaski asked.

"Well, we could-" before I could even finish my sentence, we both jumped as we heard Martinez scream back at the camp.

So we ran as fast we could back to the camp. We then arrived to find Martinez shivering heavily and hastily point his shotgun right at us.

"Calm down, Marco! It's only us." I said in an attempt to comfort him.

Hearing this, he then lowered his shotgun.

"What happened?" I then asked him.

"I don't know. I just saw some shadowy figure appear from out of nowhere, and then I just couldn't help but jump and scream." Martinez explained. "This trip is totally freaking me out."

"Look, I know we're on edge here with the strange happenings, but we can pull through this." I said comfortingly.

"What about those footprints?" Pulaski asked. "Do you think that maybe we should call the cops?"

"Maybe not just yet. While the prints did look fresh, we'll just hold things out and watch as they develope." I said. "If things continue to become more suspicious, then we'll notify the authorities. Right now, for safe measures, I'm going to try calling my wife back in Tenino."

So I then got out my cellphone and attempt to call my wife, but for some strange reason, my phone got no service. Pulaski and Martinez then tried their cellphones, but they ended up getting the same results.

"Okay, this really is strange." I said with great surprise. "Maybe it is just our location. I'm sure that once we get to another location, then we will get our phone service back. For now, let's try getting through the night and then once the sun is out, we can discuss what we shall do next. As for this noise, if it is people hounding us, then they shall be surprised to see that we are not unprepared."

The other two agreed. Pulaski said he would continue watch for another hour, while Marco said he would take over for three hours after that. I then, of course, agreed to do guard duty last, just before dawn.

So Martinez and I got back into the tent, but the two of us had trouble sleeping for the next fifteen minutes. When I finally did fall asleep, it seemed like I had been reawaken almost immediately. This time, it was by Martinez who told me he had just finished his turn at guard duty and that it was my turn. It is amazing how sleep can make time move so fast.

So I went out of the tent, pistol in hand, to guard Pulaski and Martinez as they slept. The noises we heard hours before had long ceased, but now there was only two hours left before dawn and it seemed like we could handle it. Just two hours, I need to tell myself, and then the sun will be out and we can start hiking again.

Though, I can sense that my companions want to leave these woods, but I feel we must press on if we are to find the Book of Shadows and have answers to our dire questions.

[Tweek]

Dawn was fast approaching.

Still undiscovered, Blake eventually relocated himself to a spot further away from the camp but still relatively close. Sleep had eluded him this night, as it probably had the men he was watching. The weird noises persisted for some time, seeming to come first from one direction and then another. It occurred to him that he might not be the only one out here with ill intentions. A thought even more disturbing crossed his mind during the night as well - a hellish vision of a formless supernatural entity floating through the forest and speaking with a female voice - but he brushed it away quickly and forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. This skulking around was getting him nowhere. Time for plan B.

Blake rummaged through his backpack and at last found the object he sought. It was a small flat metal object, round at the edges with a five-pointed star in the middle. Across its dull brass surface were the large words DEPUTY GAME WARDEN. It belonged to Blake's dead brother William years ago. Now it would be put to a different use.

He pins the metal star to his jacket, then stands up and walks straight towards the camp, making no attempts to hide himself or to move quietly. In fact, he seems to want them to notice him. At the edge of the encampment he stops and calls out.

[Tweek]

"Gentlemen! Game warden! Don't shoot!"

Blake had seen his brother do this dozens of times and had the routine down cold. He put on his best poker face and stepped into the camp, the shiny badge held up in front of him.

[Jib]

Dawn finally arrived, yet I still felt uneasy about the forest surrounding us. What exactly went on last night? Are we by any chance being stalked?

There was no doubt that my companions wanted to leave the forest as soon as possible. If it were not for that apocalyptic hoopla circulating through the media and society as a whole, I would be more than happy to pack up and head back to Washington. But we went through a lot of trouble to get here, and surely we will not leave before getting any answers.

Still, I expect things will only continue to get weirder as we get closer to the truth.


As I sat in my chair, looking at the surroundings being shown by the light of the rising sun, an eerie feeling came over me. Then a second or so later, I heard a disembodied voice say "All is not well! Trouble lurks through these woods! Danger is in store for those who seek the truth! Be wary! For all is not what it may seem! Danger approaches! Be ready! Be ready!"

I sat frozen in my seat, not knowing how to comprehend what I just heard. Did someone shout somewhere in the woods or was it all just in my head? Was this voice also the owner to that strange laughter we heard the night before?


I looked down at my crystal skull and I said "George?" It was as if I had suspected him of giving me that warning. But how? He is just an inanimate object made of crystal. How could he speak to me?

Before I could continue pondering the situation, I saw a man walk into the camp. "Gentlemen! Game warden! Don't shoot!" he said. He then quickly removed what appeared to be his badge to show his status of authority.

Whether or not my companions heard the voice earlier, it was clear they heard the Game Warden as I heard a bit of stirring in the tent. With my pistol holstered, I stood up, keeping only George in my grasp, and I said "Hello, sir! Does there seem to be a problem?

I looked at the Game Warden and saw that his clothes were rather dirted, almost as if he spent a day hiking or so. I would imagine that they would try to look there best no matter what. He also looked at me with a poker face, which told me he did not hear the voice that I heard. So maybe I did just hear that voice in my head, but I shall keep its message in mind.

The Game Ward looked at the crystal skull for a second, seeming to take a quick interest in it, and then he spoke.

[Tweek]

Blake recited the words he had heard many times before. He introduced himself to the men, giving each a firm handshake while his eyes quickly surveyed the camp and his brain made mental notes on the number of firearms present and the quantity of small portable items available for stealing later. He let his gaze rest an extra moment on the crystal skull... but not so long as to seem suspicious. When he spoke again his voice was steady, calm, and just a bit louder than before.

"Hunting season doesn't start for another two weeks in this county. Can I assume that you men are not out here poaching? And that you have a good reason for bringing so many firearms to the woods? It would be a shame if I had to arrest you all today and confiscate your gear, now wouldn't it?"

[Jib]

The Game Warden introduced himself as Blake, and with that he then took on a friendlier attitude as my companions and I told him who we were and where we were from. While he began to check out our campsite, I felt like that there was something not right about this man.

For one thing, we spent a whole day hiking, and yet this man appears from out of nowhere with ease. How did he get out here so fast? Normally, deputy game wardens have some kind of motor bike that is designed to go over the terrain of forested area, but I heard no such thing all morning. His attire didn't look very neat either, which is odd since he seemed to approach us with ease. How could clothes be dirted if he hadn't spent a whole day hiking? Especially since he did not look like he fell in mud or anything.

Could this man be the danger that the Mysterious Voice warned me about? What about the mysterious laugh that sounded like it belonged to a strange woman? Could that be the danger it was trying to warn me about? Regardless, I shall remain weary, but for now I will continue to act natural and try to steer clear of any trouble.

When he then brought up the topic of our firearms and hunting, I then replied, "Yes, it would be a shame, but I can assure you we are not poaching. None of us would even dream of doing so. As for hunting season, it's just the majority of the game that doesn't start for another couple weeks. However, according, to this up-to-date Maryland Guide to Hunting & Trapping, there is limited game that is currently legal: basically just rails, snipes, and coyotes. Though, coyotes are the least of our interest, unless a vicious rabid one were to approach us."

Blake then asked if he could take a look at this guide, to which I then handed to him. I then asked if he would like to see our permit and firearm licenses as well, to which he nodded. Martinez and I got those out, while Pulaski filmming everything taking place, to which Blake did not seem to mind.

I had gone through a lot of trouble planning this trip over the course of two months, and the legality of our adventure was a top concern of mine. I had made sure that every man of the party would be licensed to carry a firearm and that we would have a legal permit to be out here. In fact, I even talked with the sheriff of Frederick county both over the phone and in person about our endeavor, to which he approved of our plans.

However, the Sheriff did comment on us being a little overcautious with the number of arms we were bring, regardless of the fact that there was a disappearance of three young adult filmmakers 18 years back. "Even if there is some sort of supernatural witch in the woods, I highly doubt firearms would be of any use" he had said.

Though I acknowledge that it is unlikely we will encounter anything along those lines, we had just wanted to take the proper precautions and not end up like those student filmmakers. Should use of our arms arise, it would most likely be out of sight of either rail or a renegade coyote. While coyotes normally don't approach humans, they are among the kind of wildlife you need to watch out for. With that, the Sheriff gave his approval, but quickly added a word of advice: "Just remember to abide by this county's gaming regulations for this time of year. If word comes to me that any of you have caused trouble, then I can assure you the next time we meet won't be pleasant."

That was several days ago, back when we first arrived in Maryland. I had spoke to him prior on the telephone, but it was nice to have finally met him in person. I am good friends with the sheriff of Thurston County back in Washington, so naturally I wanted to establish good relations with the sheriff of Frederick county as well. I just hope that Deputy Blake knows that Frederick's sheriff knows that we are out here.

So Blake then hands back the guide as I hand him the permit and the licenses. As he looks over them, I then state "Of course, the limited game out here is only second to the whole "Blair Witch" trail. Our main objective is to try to make our way to where Rustin Parr's house once stood. Legend has it that there is a hidden lair nearby, which predates his house, that has some artifacts that once belonged to the Blair Witch. We believe that one such item is the Book of Shadows, said to be a dark, mysterious, and prophetic grimoire. Are you familiar with the whole legend, sir?"

[Tweek]

These fellows were starting to give Blake a serious headache. From the first word spoken, an dull pain in the front of his head had begun to grow, blossoming into a full-on migraine as the conversation continued. He was barely listening to what was being said anymore, struggling to keep his focus, nodding when it seemed he was expected to do so. Accepting and handing back folded sheets of paper of some apparent importance to the others. But his fevered brain felt as if it would explode and burst out of his skull at any moment now.

And there was the sound. That apparently only he could hear, as the other men did not react to it at all. It started as a slight ringing in his ears. Like the buzzing of an angry gnat or fly. Barely perceived at first, then gradually becoming louder and more forceful. As the minutes dragged on the terrible sound morphed into what was clearly a human voice. Female. Whispering. Loudly. Inside his head. Dreadful words. Angry words. Recalling dark murderous deeds and timeless suffering. Loud enough to make him cry out if he were not careful. Speaking in a tongue that was at once both familiar and alien to his mind. Blake blinked his eyes and tried to shake it off, latching onto the last few words of the conversation that he had heard through the noise in his head. Blair Witch. They were asking about the Blair legends.

Right.

"You waste your time, guys. Been watching too many movies. There's nothing out here but some old trees and maybe a few Civil War ghosts. No books that I'm aware of. How long do you all plan to be out here? I have a report to make."

[Tweek]

Blake was beginning to sweat noticeably. He dropped his hands to his sides so the men would not see that they had begin to tremble. All thoughts of robbery drained away from his mind, replaced by icy claws of terror. Another more powerful will was imposing itself upon his own, smothering him like a heavy blanket. The booming voice in his head was now a crashing wave of occult power that would not be denied or resisted.

Blake was no longer himself. The last of his strength faded. He surrendered to the possession fully.

His right hand drew his gun. His thumb switched off the safety. He raised the pistol and took aim at the crystal skull. The gun discharged once. Twice. The skull shattered into several jagged pieces and fell to the ground lifeless and inanimate. Just so many bits of broken stone.

Blake saw all this but could not stop it. He was just a spectator now. Powerless in the grip of his master. The gun was coming up again. Benson looked to be the target now. In spite of his terror, Blake felt strangely euphoric. He sensed the pleasure of the inhabiting spirit at what it had done. What it was about to do. Had he been in control of himself, he might have even laughed. The fear was still present, but it was mingled with violent joy and fulfilled purpose.

The gun fired a third time.

[Jib]

Upon hearing Deputy Blake's reply, I then respond with how we only have an intent to be out here for a few days and that there is something to the old legends of this area. Upon hearing his comment about Civil War ghosts, I could not help but image there being ghosts from the American Revolution as well. In fact, I could even picture the spirits of the dreaded Native American tribe, the Arez'kahni, haunting these woods.

At this point, I begin to hear drums sounding in the distance, yet the others seem not to notice. This really gets my attention, so Pulaski tries to reason with Blake for me. As I try to make out the original of these beating drums, my party and I notice that Blake began to behavior exremely abnormally.

He was sweating considerably, as well as trembling, despite trying to hide his hands. I wonder if the drums I was hearing were having an effect on Blake.

"Sir, are you okay?" I asked Blake, and then suddenly the drums stopped and there was a moment of silence. Then, Blake looked up, and his eyes were no longer that blue color I first saw, but a very sinister-looking green.

Then in an instant, he whips out a pistol and fires two rounds at George, shattering the poor crystal skull. I just stood, shocked with both awe and fear. I had no idea what to do, and while I tried to tell my body to move, it just stood frozen in place. The same effect was on my companions as well. Before I could even gain control over myself, Blake fired another round, aimed at me.

I had expected a gunshot wound to my chest, and yet to my surprise, none was there. That was when the hypnotic spell was broken, and I was able to move again. However, I was then in for another surprise.

In between Blake and I was a strange green orb of energy, which obviously deflected the bullet meant for me. It hovered between us for a few seconds, and then like the crack of a whip, all of the shattered remains of my crystal skull shot up into the air and formed an orbiting matrix around the strange orb. This was without a doubt the strangest sight I had seen in my whole life. This went on for a moment was like that for a moment, and the both the orb and the crystal fragments inturned to a midnight black color, and then turned to a blood red.

With this change of color, the crystal fragments disperse throughout the forest and the orb itself faded. Then overhead we all heard a disembodied voice, the same one I had heard before, speak a message in Mayan. Having studied the Mayan language, I knew that it had said "Death descends upon you! Death descends upon you!"

Before I could even begin to contemplate what these words exactly meant, the drum beating I had heard returned in full force. This time I was not the only one who heard it, for I saw on my companions faces that they could hear it too.

The drum beatings were much louder and much more violent this time around, and were even accompanied by blood-curdling war cries. The war cries sounded Native American, and I had no doubt that these strange noises belonged to the spirits of the long dead Arez'Kahni. Things seemed to have gotten really bad, and to make matters worse, the sun was gone, obscured by rolling thunderclouds.

With all this occuring, Blake just stood idly infront of us, no longer a game warden, but an unholy vessel for evil spirits. With out thinking, I pulled out my pistol, my companions following. Upon doing this, we heard projectiles fly through the air and disarm each of us: my pistol was knocked out of my hand by an arrow, while my two companions' shotguns were broken by tomahawks.

Shouts in the Arez'Kahni language were coming from all directions, and I could not identify any of it since the language itself is long dead and very little records remain of it. Yet, by the tone, I sense that the spirits of these woods are unhappy with our prescence and want us eliminated. In midst of all these drum beatings, war cries, and thunder, I heard the ungodly cackle of the strange woman we heard last night over head.

In my 46 years of life, I have never been so terrified. In that instant, I just wanted to drop everything, and get out of these woods and head back to Washington.

With what courage I could muster, I shouted "Run!" and my companions and I just bolted off without hesistation. As each of us bolted in separate directions, Blake remained at our campsite, standing there with that creepy, sinister, possessed look. I knew that he was under the control of the foul things in these forests, and would undoubtably come after us with everything else that lurked in these foul woods.

Other than that, I did not bother looking back, but kept looking forward. Trying to see what is ahead, to see if I could find a way out. I regretted this whole trip, and had no longer any desire to get my hands on the Book of Shadows. From that moment, I renounced my atheistic views and hoped that God would safeguard us. I believed that everything I heard about the apocalypse to be true, despite the lack of evidence. I did not even care if the Earth would be destroyed in two months time, or even if my companions would make it out okay. All I cared about was my own well-being and seeing to it that I would get out of these cursed woods and back to my homestate.

All I could keep on doing was running, growing more and more terrified upon hearing the constant drum beatings, war cries, thunder, and witch cackling.

[Tweek]

After some time, Blake awoke in the forest.

It was dark. Night. And quiet. He was on his back looking up at the stars twinkling through the gaps in the tree branches far above him. For several long minutes Blake lay still, fearful to even move. He took in all the sight and sound he could gather from his current position, allowing his mind and senses to confirm where he was and that the danger had passed. There was no sound except his own heavy breathing. No wind. No crickets. No audible sound of life apart from himself. At last he sat up and slowly looked around.

In the faint starlight he could see well enough to discern what was left of the campsite. Tents and equipment were broken and tossed about. A few cans of food scattered on the ground. Beans mostly. Dented but still unopened. Various items of clothing. Most of them shredded and useless. A quantity of papers, all of them ripped and torn into bits of different size. The site looked like a tornado had hit it. But Blake knew better.

[Jib]

I could do nothing but keep on running as the infernal noises surrounding me continued to grow louder and louder. I could not tell if the evil spirits were gaining on me or not, but I just ran like I had never ran before.

I kept on running until I tripped over something, falling face first into the mud. My heart skipped a beat as I realized with horror that I had fallen with evil things lurking about. I hastily got back on my feet, and looked to see what I had tripped over. It appeared to be a cairn, only now the rocks that made it up were scattered about. There were two other cairns that were still stood undisturbed, but I knew that the graveyard my party and I were looking for had several more cairns than this.

I just looked at these cairns, almost ignoring the constant sound around me. It was when a rogue arrow flew past my head that I snapped back to my senses. When I turned to the direction from which the arrow came, I saw not an Arez’kahni archer, but three young individuals. Immediately, I recognized them as the three student filmmakers who disappeared 18 years ago in these very woods. Yet, I also noticed that they looked all corpse-like: their faces were all sunken in, their skin was a sickly beige, they had nauseating looking flesh wounds, a variety of bugs (ants, maggots, flies, worms) eating away at them, and they gave off an ungodly odor. They did not say a single word, but only stared at me. Even so, this was far more than I could bear, and by fighting back feelings of nausea and utter despair, I immediately resumed running.

So I was on the run again, only now I am paying a little more attention to any loose tree roots or cairns. As I ran, I heard the thunder intensify, with lightning beginning to accompany it. The noise became even more deafening and unnerving as the cawing of crows from up above and the howls of coyotes from afar joined in the horrific orgy of diabolical noise.

I ended up running through the graveyard that I hoped to come across today, but made absolutely no stop to observe it. Upon exiting the graveyard, there was a burst in the sky as hard rain came pouring down from the sky, the thunder and lightning still ever so present with the dreadful noise. If that were not bad enough, I begin to hear the voices of children giggle an incredibly creepy laugh.

I kept running, not looking back, only looking forwards and refraining from making any stops. This run seemed like it would never end, but as long as I kept hearing the awful noises around me, I would not stop unless I fall again. I ran through this wooded area filled with all these strange stick figures hanging overhead. This would have been a site to marvel, along with the cairn graveyard, if I was not being pursued by unseen assailants. As I ran under these stick figures, I felt a couple more arrows fly past by me: the first completely missed me, but the second cut my upper right arm as it flew by me. Even as the wound began to bleed, I only kept on running as fast as I could go.

I ran for what seemed like hours and hours, this run seeming like it would never end. The whole day had just gone by with this flight. Despite the fact that the sky was pitch dark due to the storm clouds overhead, I just knew of instinct that it was already dusk. I wanted to keep on running, but my body would not take it anymore, so I ended up collapsing upon both my knees and vomited violently.

I was unbelievably exhausted, no longer caring if my pursuers would get me. I just felt so dizzy and knew that I was going to pass out. Already the sounds of the drums, the shouts, the witch’s cackling, the children’s giggling, the thunder, the lightning, the cawing of the crows, and the howls of the coyotes, all began to fade as I knew that my consciousness was shutting down. The last thing I saw as I began to fall face forward was a bunch of rubble in the distant, as if there had once been a house there a long time ago.

[Tweek]

Once the sun came up and banished the darkness, Blake felt much better about the previous night's events and his current situation. Thankfully, he couldn't remember very many details. But what he could recall was so terrible, so wrong, that he pushed those memories into the deepest corner of his mind, locked them away in the vault, and vowed never to visit them again. Ever. Forgetfulness was a welcome mercy this day, one that Blake was only too happy to embrace. He'd just rather not remember any of it. He survived. That was good enough.

He was hungry. Of that he was sure. But the growling in his belly could wait. First things first. He began searching the destroyed tents and scattered belongings on the ground for treasure. Cash was best, of course, but anything of value he could sell back in town will do. That was why he was out here, was it not? The camp was now unguarded. Time to LOOT!

A quick reconnoiter of the now-abandoned campsite nets Blake a nice wad of cash, a fancy pocketwatch, and some expensive-looking electronics. Not a bad day's work. And he didn't have to shoot anyone.

Maybe. He noticed his gun was missing several rounds. Did he fire his weapon? Blake could not say without touching those bad memories he just locked away. He'd rather not know about it either way. Let it remain a mystery. As far as the law goes, he wasn't even out here. Nobody can prove a thing.

Blake gathers up his stolen items, looks up at the sun to determine the correct direction, then starts walking back towards town.

[Jib]

I awoke several hours later to find that night has settled in; it was pitch black dark with the exception of the faint twinkling of the stars in the sky. Everything around me was all quiet, a welcome break from the hellish noise that plague my party and I through out the day. I realized that I was laying in my own bloody vomit, but being so tired, I hardly even cared. Regardless, I slowly lifted myself up and sat down on a nearby patch of dirt. I quickly removed my vomit stained jacket and gloves, and then I began to look around.

I saw a figure coming my way, and immediately I froze up with tension. It came closer and closer, all while I did my best not to move or make any noise. After all I have faced, it would seem ironic that my demise would come just moments after regaining consciousness.

Upon getting a better look, I was relieved to see that the figure was Pulaski, still filming our surroudings with the camcorder.

"Adam! Thank God you're okay!" I exclaimed with comfort.

The young college student was pleased to see me as well. He recounted his tale of how he spent his day running throughout the woods and then finding a safe place to hide. For him, the noise did not sound as bad as it did for me. He told me this by how he found a good hiding spot under a log nearby a river. Once the sounds ceased, he then garnered enough strength to search for us while remaining weary.

"You're the first sign of life I have seen since coming out of hiding." he said, "I still have not found Marco, but I did find a house not far from here.

He then pointed to a direction where a dilapidated three story house stood. Upon seeing it, I sudden felt chills: from what I recalled, it was standing in that very spot in which I saw nothing but a pile of rubble. I knew I was blacking out, with my vision being blurred, but I was fairly certain that house was not standing when I looked at the direction I am now staring upon.

"You think Marco might be in there?" he asked.

"I dunno." I muttered while I continued to stare at the house. I was certain now that we have entered an evil realm and that it would be a miracle if we were to get out a live. Even if that were the case, I had a gnawing feeling that we still would not be safe.

"Something could be there, maybe something of great evil." I said, "However, it is useless to stand here any longer. Perhaps we should take a closer look."

So we made our way to the house, and once it came into full view, I stopped dead in my tracks. "Oh my God! This is Rustin Parr's house!" I stated with awe. There was no denying that the very house in front of us was the Rustin Parr house that was destroyed decades ago.

"What?" Pulaski said in disbelief.

"I said this is Rustin Parr's house. You know. The one that burned to the ground decades ago!" I clarified to him, but a sense of uneasiness.

I then noticed something gleam on the doorstep. Overwhelmed with curiosity, I quickly approached it; ignoring the protests coming from my companion. Upon further inspecting the object, I saw that it was round, green, crystalined, and seemed to be about the size and shape of a human skull.

"George?" I asked dumbfounded.

As if questions were not already high enough, this pushed further up the roof. I was looking at the very crystal skull I had originally received from the Maya. It was complete, undamaged, and was illuminated by the light generated by my companion's camcorder. I just stood there, staring deeply into the carved eyes of the crystal skull like I had never done before.

[Tweek]

Walking. More walking. And then walking some more.

Blake was exhausted. His feet hurt. The stolen items had gotten heavier as the day went on, and he had reluctantly abandoned them an hour ago, keeping only what he could carry in his pockets. The sun was now low in the west; it would be setting soon and it seemed he was still deep in the woods. The forest seemed to go on and on without end. He saw no landmarks. No trails or roads. Nothing but trees as far as he could see.

How many hours had he walked? Blake didn't know anymore.

[Tweek]

"Where is the freaking road? The town? This can't be happening..."

It was midnight. Blake was still in the woods. He could have crossed the entire Black Hills in the time he has been out here. He should have reached the safety of Burkittsville by now. Yet he was still here. In the woods. Just like those kids in the movie. They walked all day too. And never made it out.

Blake is too tired to go on. Weak with hunger, he collapses at the edge of the creek - the same creek he remembers crossing earlier in the day - and loses consciousness.

He does not awaken.

<<< BLAKE IS DEAD >>>

[Jib]

Seeing that it was the same skull that I had brought with me into the woods, I carefully picked it up and took in the sight of the house that stood before us. Before I could say anything, my companion Pulaski said "C'mon! Marco might be inside!"

He quickly went into the house and I then had a feeling of foreboding doom. So we entered the house, flashlights ablazing, calling for our missing companion, climbing the set of stairs as we took in this dreadful house. The windows were all boarded up, there was filth staining the floor and walls, and upstairs there were blood-red handprints of children.

While Pulaski continued to look all around upstairs, I just thought about the handprints for a moment, and then a horrifying revelation dawned on me! This was not only Parr's house, but also the place in which those three student filmmakers were last depicted alive! It was the foul magic of the Blair Witch that re-established this horrid building, and I just knew we would be done for if we stuck around.

I tried to tell Pulaski that we needed to make a run for it, but instead a strange alluring feeling came over me. One that made me say "I'm gonna try checking the basement." In all honesty, I did not want to go down to the basement, for I was just remembering what happened to those poor student filmmakers. Yet my feet kept on taking me down the stairs until I was back on the house level.

Once on that level, I then mindlessly set myself before the stairs that led to the basement. I knew I was going to my doom, much like a sheep to the slaughter, but I had somehow lost all control over myself. So I just went down into the basement...moving slowly...ever so slowly...




...





...






Words cannot describe the ungodly horror I had just seen! A hellish hag had reached for me, but were it not for a new sudden sensation that had overtaken me, I would have been doomed. For it struck me like a bolt of lightning, that I actually jumped to the side, evading the indescribable evil by barely an inch. At that point I made a resoundant, bloodcurdling scream.

The horrific abomination came for me again, but with this strange new bit of energy, I managed to evade her, or it, again. However, it was not a complete success this time, for she teared off a good chunk of the clothing on my back. Yet, I did not care if a large hole exposed my back, for all I cared was to get out alive.

So holding the crystal skull tightly to my chest, much like how a mother safeguards her infant, I dashed back up the stairs. Adam was just coming down the stairs now, but I saw his face turn pale with fear as he saw me running up. He screamed, but I quickly grabbed his chest with one free hand and shouted "RUN!!!"

So Adam than ran out through the way we came, while I dived right through one of the board windows; I landed on top of the dirt, foliage, and boards of scattered woods. My ribs ached at that moment, but George the crystal skull remained unharmed. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled to my feet, and quickly reunited with Adam, who came around the hosue shouting "Run! Run! Run!"

So we then just dashed off northwards of the house, trying to put as much distance behind us as possible. As we ran, an agonizing, demonic wail emitted from the house and reverberated throughout the woods.

[Jib]

Pure terror was all that occupied our consciousness as we ran. Were it not for our flashlights, one of us would have smashed face-first into a tree. A humorous thought that would be if we were not fleeing a denizen of Hell.

My companion and I then came across these large boulders, to which he said to me "Let's stop here."

I had no idea of how far we were from that dreaded house, how long we have been running for, or even if the Witch was still after us. One thing was clear: we needed to conserve our energy if we were going to get out of these woods alive.

"Turn off the lights" Adam then said to me as he turned off his flashlight.

While catching my breath, I was about to do the same thing, but that was when I saw something surprising inscribed on one of the boulders. Having my hands full, my items held close together, my flashlight shined through the crystal skull; a green light glistened on the rock. This green lilght reviewed what appeared to be a peculiar symbol, a stickman symbol to be exact.

"Adam, look!" I said.

He gazed upon my finding and was amazed. "Whoa!" is all he uttered. He then turned on his own flashlight, the clear light obscuring my green light and causing the mysterious symbol to vanish.

Seeing this, I stated "Turn your light off!" When he did exactly that, I took the crystal skull out of the path of my beam of light. The symbol was still nowhere to be seen upon the rock.

"Interesting." I exclaimed, to which I then put George right back infront of the light, turning it green, and the symbol magically reappeared.

We both stared at the symbol for a while, and then our attention turned to George. We then just gawked at the crystal skull, and with bated breath, I exclaimed "What the heck did those Mayans give me?"

[Tweek]

Unseen by the men on the ground below, a shadowy apparition gathered itself in the night sky and slowly took the rough semblance of a man. If the sun were overhead they could have simply looked up and seen it hovering there above them. Watching with eyes that reflected the light like those of an owl. A restless spirit compelled by the black powers of the forest. Commanded now to serve Elly Kedward's will. As all who perish in her woods serve her. Forever.

A stray flashlight beam reaches up and illuminates the ghost's face for an instant. Those who knew him in life would not recognize Blake now. His face was twisted into a permanent silent scream; his dead eyes reflected the knowledge of what he had now become and that there would be no release from it.

<<< BLAKE'S GHOST HAS ENTERED THE GAME >>>

[Jib]

We remained that spot the whole night and well into the morning. While we were intrigued to see what the mysterious symbol yield, we were not foolish enough to draw the Witch's attention. Besides, it was a good idea to conserve the energy in our flashlights, especially since we left the batteries at the campsite.

With it being daylight once more, we decided to leave the spot and search for Marco and see the condition of our campsite. We spent hours calling for his name, which would be humorous were we in a swimming pool and not out in a haunted forest. We searched as best as we could, but we could not find a trace of either Marco or the campsite. Perhaps we have gone too far into the woods and have been in it for too long? I think so.

The afternoon was already upon us, so we made our way back to the boulders, and surprisingly, we were able to relocate them. Seeing them in broad daylight, I could not help but noticed that they looked like a giant cairn.

We then began to thoroughly examine the site for any clues as to what it may hide, and eventually we figured out that it concealed an underground cavern. We even found a very small opening under one of the boulders, this one being held up by several other ones. So that is when Adam and I began to dig, and we spent a good while digging; taking notice as the opening got larger and larger. We had nothing to use but our bare ends, which proved to be a long and painful endeavor. Yet, we were determined to get to the bottom of this enigma, even if it utterly blisters our hands. So we kept on digging: through rock, dirt, and grit.

By the time we had dug the opening far enough for both of us to fit through, night had already fallen. We just looked around and were amazed how darkness just settles in at the blink of an eye. Adam turned on his flashlight to get a good look around. I wasn't certain if that was a good idea or not. On one hand I wanted Marco to find us, but on the other I did not want the Witch to find us.

I had only given that a moment's thought, when Adam blurted out "What was that?!?" I turned on my flashlight, and frantically searched with him the nighttime environment. For a split second, my flashlight brushed upon three apparitions. Yet, when my light came upon that spot again, they were gone.

"Truly strange." I commented. Yet, out of all of the things we have seen, seeing a few apparitions are no match to the vile fiend we saw at the house.

"Let's crawl in...now." I ordered Adam, and without hesistation, he crawled into the passage; I then followed.

Once inside, we had our flashlight explore the underground cavern. This was a marvelous passage and I am amazed that the townspeople never knew of its existence. Surely, much like Parr's house, it was concealing something horrible waiting to be found. I hope to God that we do not see the Witch again, but whatever else we may find will prove to be horrible. Yet, my gut told me that we are very close to the Book of Shadows.

So then slowly began making our way down the cavern...

[Tweek]

Blake's spectre floated along behind the men as they entered the cavern. The strange crystal skull seemed to pull him along, as if he were some sort of weird eldritch kite tethered to the skull by an invisible string. Others damned souls were watching as well; if Blake had still been among the living he might have spoken to the men, cried out a dire warning. But the living could not hear the gathered dead. Could not hear the mad screaming woman to his right. Heather Donahue. Or what remained of her. The dark spirit on his right, the long-suffering essence of Mike Williams. Alternately laughing and weeping. Josh was not present. Blake did not know why.

They were all obeying the same command. To follow the crystal skull and the man that carried it. And to observe the horrors to come.

[Jib]

We walked on for what seemed like ages through the dark creepy cavern. The only light being from our two flashlights, so we were dependent upon. Goodness forbid if they go out on us. Especially since we left the spare batteries back at the campsite.

So we just walked on further until we came to a dead stop. In front of us were dozens of preserved corpses Arez'khani warriors; we had just set foot into a crypt.

"Oh God..." said Adam nervously, "You don't think they're gonna rise up or anything."

I didn't not answer his question right away, but instead I went closer to inspect the bodies and the crypt itself. It was just plain spooky to find a Native American crypt within a dark tunnel, but so I saw no animation from the corpses. Which was a relief, considering the undead Arez'khani that pursued us the other day.

Finally, I turned to Adam and said "At this point, I doubt it. But I'd rather not stick around to see if I'm right or wrong."

With that, we made haste through the tunnel, putting the crypt behind us. So we kept on walk on this path that seemed like it was never going to end; fearing that we may just come across a dead-end. However, that was not to be the case.

We had finally come to the end of the tunnel and rushed out side to an odd clearing: it was a wooded area surrounded by thick tall trees, with there being only dirt and no grass, and in the middle of the clearing was an ancient run-downed shack.

Taking this all into sight, I stated, "Well, Adam...I give you...our apparent destination."