This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Urban_II on 2024-10-17 03:03:30+00:00.
I live in a rural part of central Texas, down a dirt road a few miles off the highway. I’m on a 40-acre tract of land, mostly pasture for grazing cattle. My nearest neighbor is about a mile away, and past him the road dips down into a wooded area. If you follow the road down another mile from there, a solid concrete bridge with wide metal culverts crosses over a creek.
About a week ago, I was taking a walk down the country road to clear my head. It may be October, but down here in Texas, temperatures are still pushing 90 degrees, and we haven’t had more than a few drops of rain all month. As you might expect, when I got to the bridge, the creek was nearly dry. A small stream of water still flowed down the very center of the creek bed, but the rest of the channel was exposed, the clay beginning to crack from lack of rainfall. Ducking under the guardrail, I hopped down off the bridge to the surface of the creek and started heading upstream.
The creek was fully shaded by Live Oaks and Sycamores, and the banks were lined with scrub brush. Down inside the bed, Wood Fern and Brookweed lay exposed and dried from lack of water, and tree roots weaved in and out of the clay. I took in the sights of nature, mainly focusing on my footing, and felt my stress melt away.
Coming around a bend in the creek a solid mile from the bridge, I noticed a buck in the distance, drinking from the small trickle of water that still flowed. I froze, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid spooking him. I quietly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone to snap a photo. I zoomed in and worked to get the distant image into focus. He must have been around four or five years old, judging from the size of the rack and broad, muscular body. At last, the focus came through, but while I tried to take the picture, I froze.
Instead of the white fur I expected to see on the underside of the mouth of a deer this size, I saw red. Panning down, I saw that he wasn’t drinking water at all. Hanging from the sharp, clearly non-herbivorous teeth were bits of fat and sinew, as the animal tore through the fresh carcass of a bobcat. As I stared, stunned by what I was seeing, a shifted slightly and a twig snapped under my foot. The buck’s head snapped to attention, his black beady eyes staring directly at me. To my horror, it stood up on its hind legs and began to walk towards me.
I turned and ran.
My legs burned and my lungs heaved as I sprinted downstream. Behind me, I heard a high-pitched shriek, almost like a woman, which morphed and deepened into a feral roar in a sick glissando. In terror of what was behind me, I looked back over my shoulder, tripping over a tree root in the process. I tumbled forward, skinning my arm and landing painfully on my back. In a frenzy, I swung my head in every direction, terrified of the creature’s pursuit. Not seeing it, I struggled to my feet and took off back home.
Nearing the bridge, I heard a horrible laughter coming from behind the tree line - like a pack of coyotes, but slower and lower pitched. Dumb with fear, I scrambled up the concrete of the bridge, hitting my head against the metal guard. Heedless of my now bleeding forehead, I continued my desperate escape back down the road towards my house.
Finally leaving the tree line and nearing my house, I felt my body dump the excess adrenaline, and the pain from my fall and collision with the guard rail came in full force. Exhausted, I limped my way the last bit home, bolting the door behind me.
That was last week. Every night since then, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night. I’m a light sleeper, but usually in the country there isn’t much noise to wake me – coyotes, sometimes a car driving down the dirt road – but this is neither. Every night, waking from sleep, I hear a voice whisper my name. When I get up and go to the window to investigate, I can barely make out a dark shadow by the tree line, and a faint, awful laughter.