I couldn't sleep at all last night, and the events of the prior evening have consumed my thoughts. Am I losing my mind? Was it all just a dream? Maybe I dozed off in the field and imagined everything.
The image, or lack thereof, of that black creature that pursued me is seared into my memory. It appears every time I shut my eyes. That's why I was eager to visit the woods during the day, hoping to calm my nerves. Surely, seeing things clearly in the daylight is the best way to dispel imaginary nighttime monsters.
So, when my boss asked me to swing by the warehouse, conveniently on my way home, to check on some equipment, I jumped at the chance to leave work. It was a quick errand, and I managed to get home almost two hours earlier than if I had stayed at the office, drowning in thoughts of my encounter. At least at home, I could occupy myself with investigating the source of my obsession.
To be fair, I did some research at work while sipping my morning coffee. The nature preserve behind my house is called the Amichel Bayou Nature Preserve. It features trails and borders homes and parks, but the land has remained undeveloped since the time of the early Americas. Trees that were young when the first Spanish conquistadors explored the area still thrive deep within the woods.
The bayou teems with wildlife — deer, rabbits, birds, alligators, turtles, fish, and, of course, mosquitoes. There might be an occasional presence of hogs, wild pigs descended from domestic ones brought to the Americas by the Spanish, but nothing akin to the creature that chased me. While in the past, buffalo and perhaps black bears and wolves might have roamed here, there have been no reported bear sightings in this region for a generation or more.
I looked up the name "Amichel." It's a Spanish rendition of the Native American term "Am Ixchel," which translates to "Place of the goddess Ixchel." As it turns out, the indigenous people of this region were believed to be descendants of Mayans who settled around the bayou after the fall of the Mayan civilization. Ixchel was a Mayan jaguar goddess associated with birth, death, the moon, and the stars.
Discovering that this goddess was sometimes depicted as a black jaguar with claws sent a shiver down my spine and accelerated my heartbeat. Could this be the reason for the claws on my skin and the sensation of teeth sinking into my neck as the creature pursued me? Perhaps it's a far-fetched idea, but it's eerie how this image is linked to the area behind my house, a mental image that predates my knowledge of the connection.
Now, back at home, I wasted no time changing into something more suitable for exploring the woods in the blistering heat. The temperature outside is scorching. Daily records are being broken, with temperatures touching or even exceeding 110 degrees Fahrenheit. Yet here I am, venturing out in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day. Moreover, a months-long drought has caused the ground to crack deeply, with fissures in the dirt several inches thick.
Upon reaching the forest's edge, I scrutinized the ground for any tracks larger than those of a deer or a dog, but found nothing. Clear game trails are visible, frequently used by deer to transition between the woods and the field. Thus, I followed one of these trails that led deeper into the woods toward the bayou. It's not as though I've never ventured into these woods before; I've lived here for nearly a year and have explored the bayou's wildlife and surroundings. However, this is the first time I've returned since that nightmarish chase.
My heart raced, but I continued my investigation for any tangible evidence suggesting that what pursued me was indeed an animal. As I reached the bayou, the trees gave way to a clearing, and I spotted a group of large vultures feasting on a carcass. Upon my approach, the vultures scattered, displeased at being interrupted during their meal.
It was evident that the remains belonged to a deer. Enough had been scavenged that the cause of death was indiscernible, though it seemed recent. In a few more hours, nothing but bones would remain once the vultures were done. Officially, there are no predators in these woods large enough to take down a deer, but deer can succumb to numerous natural factors, right? Perhaps the heat was the culprit?
Speaking of heat, I approached the bayou and noticed its significantly diminished water levels. Algae thrived in the deeper parts, yet shallow sections revealed traces of moving water. Surveying the bayou's length, deer tracks were abundant, but other animals' traces were notably absent. During my previous visits, I had encountered a profusion of turtles and the occasional alligator. This time, even the fish seemed absent.
Gazing across to the bayou's opposite side, I observed another trail leading deeper into the woods. Ordinarily, I would have had to walk upstream to reach the bridge at the nearest footpath. However, the water was so shallow due to the drought that I could hop across the rocks at a shallow point. Though it involved descending and ascending the bank, I eventually reached the trail and ventured deeper into the woods.
After a while, the trees gave way once more, revealing not just a clearing but a vast rectangular field enveloped by woods on all sides. Emerging near the middle of the field, I gazed upon a space spanning three or four hundred yards in length and a couple of hundred yards in width. Just like my field, this expanse was dry, with cracks in the earth caused by the heat-induced soil contraction.
At one end of the field, I noticed a depression in the ground. Its shape resembled an oval. Drawing closer, I observed that the ground seemed to be giving way, with substantial cracks resulting from the ongoing drought. Though I refrained from stepping onto the depression, I leaned over to peer into one of the cracks.
These fissures were noticeably deeper than the ones in my field. I could see several feet down into the earth. Adjusting my angle to utilize the afternoon sun's rays, I glimpsed what appeared to be broken mud bricks beneath the surface, accompanied by bones. Fucking bones. Frustration took hold as my trembling hands caused my phone to plummet directly into the crack. While I considered retrieving it, there was no way to do so without extensive digging. Leaning forward on my stomach, I strained to locate where it had fallen.
What happened next solidified my belief that I was, in fact, losing my sanity. In the darkness of my peripheral vision, I discerned bodies — bodies resembling young girls with black hair, naked and entwined, in a state of decomposition. These macabre figures were moving, their flesh sloughing off in chunks as they rubbed against one another. Their contorted faces expressed agony, their eye sockets hollow.
I jolted upright, stumbling backward from the depression and directly onto a swarm of ground wasps. They descended upon me before I could react, and I felt the excruciating sting of the first, then the second, and the third. The pain multiplied as more stings followed. Frantically brushing them off, I struggled to breathe amidst the intensity of the pain. My mind raced as I pondered how to return to the trail. I managed to make my way back toward the woods.
After eventually reaching the trail and the bayou, I navigated the steep climb down and then up the opposite side. Exhausted, I finally arrived back home and soothed my welts with cold towels and ice. The pain gradually subsided after about half an hour, but my body was left covered in swollen, red welts.
Another workday loomed on the horizon, but this weekend, I'll return to that place to retrieve my phone and unveil the truth lurking beneath the ground. Were those dead girls mere products of my imagination? Could the bones in the fissure have belonged to animals? I'm hesitant to confide in anyone else until I gather more information. Doubt still gnaws at me; I'm uncertain if I'm truly unhinged, but I'm convinced that someone else would think so.
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