Repression

Everything became a hazy mess after the name came through the other end of the phone, the word ringing inside of my head after going for so long without being affected by it.

It had been years since I had gone to Ruidoso with my family, years since we had found a bit of solace from being disconnected from the commodities of the modern world for just a few days. The calming forests and the imposing yet beautiful sight no amount of photos could ever capture, making anyone who saw them wish for more than just memories of that place. That year a storm had fallen over the area, leaving everything coated in a white blanket and making it even more breathtaking it was.

The experience was just that enjoyable that it was impossible not to be stuck on the past and hope to return as soon as possible to that place. At least, that’s how I felt at first. Now I can’t go without growing afraid at just the mere mention of the name alone.

It had come out of nowhere, a bunch of dreams, or a memory really, of me running through the thick of the forest, being overwhelmed by a feeling of immediate danger that crashed down on me, fueling my desire to get as far away from that place as physically possible. Why was it that I started to remember this after so long? And why is it that I’m the only one that remembers?

I’m well aware that memories become iffy and unreliable as time goes on, but for only one person out of three to remember something like this is hard to believe. If I truly was out there, why had our trip continued on without my parents growing concerned for my wellbeing, and why was I still let to wander a bit more through the cold landscape near the cabin whenever I pleased? It just didn’t make one lick of sense whatsoever.

This memory, and I know for certain that it is one, has been nothing more than a blank space of time between one day to the next I never bothered to look further into it, leaving an entire day vanish from my memories until now.

Something traumatic or terrible must have happened to force my mind to go blank for my own sanity, but just what could have been so traumatic for such a drastic measure to be made unconsciously?

Just trying to think about it gives me a headache, even now my head is spinning just by writing about it. All I can see is myself, running deeper into the forest, breath labored and heavy as I continuously screamed for someone, anyone, to help me. Sometimes in those screams for help, I would hear myself scream out “Monster, monster!” over and over again as I kept running, but I’m not too sure.

Then just what the hell happened?

There is more to this. There has to be! Why else would it have affected me the way it is now?

Had I seen something terrible? A murder, an actual monster or was I just scared of an animal while I wandered alone? I don’t really know. My head just keeps on pounding the longer I think about it, the longer I try to remember what scared me so.

Each time, all I can see is the snow and trees surrounding me. The entire forest was silent safe for my panicked screams for help, almost as if something had drained the life out of it. Or more like nature itself was just as scared of whatever it was that was out there with me, the thought alone brings a chill down my spine.

There is something lurking in the shadows of Ruidoso’s forest, something unseen and impossible, hunting any and all who venture deep into its domains. I saw it then, barely escaping its grasp as it hunted me down.

Every second it got horrifyingly closer to me an insufferable cold enveloped my body that I could almost feel frost begin to build in my bones. The cries of coyotes, deer, birds and people twisted into a singular painful cacophony as it stalked the terrain, each one growing further away as I tried to escape it. Yet I knew that if I stopped for one second, the moment I turned around it would be standing there ready to devour me. As the cries became more and more silent, the cold grew strong inside of me.

It wasn’t until the moment I finally saw a manmade path and thought to myself that I could finally escape whatever it was that was hunting me that I saw it, and the reason why I can barely recall this event at all slowly became clear.

It was barely even a moment that I got to see it, a blink and you miss it kind of deal, but the thing I saw will stay with me forever. The thing was pale, very pale, sickly so, standing out from the blanket of snow. Its skin seemed to cling to his bones, leaving the sight of a severely malnourished humanoid being of great stature roam across the land at 8 feet of height perhaps even more than that. Yet comparing my height as a child to that of that thing’s, the difference is rather glaring.  Long arms reaching down to the ground, barely above enough as to not be dragged, legs equally as long with the particular difference of there not being feet at the end, just singular sharp points in each one remaining me a lot of a spider. With every long stride taken no trace of its presence ever remained, only small holes which would soon be hidden away as the storm grew stronger in the sky above.

Yet even if its mere form and figure alone mocked nature itself and man, the one detail that always stays with me was that thing’s face. It didn’t fucking have one!

Every feature it should have had was missing, covered instead by the pale skin like a mask, not even the structure of bones seemed to exist, leaving only a plain surface too perfect to even consider possible or natural. Instead, the face only bore several cuts of ranging degrees over it, as if it had taken its own claws and dug deep into its own flesh and with every howl the torn flesh would flow outwards with the strength of the cry.

Then everything went black. I don’t know if it was because of that thing’s or my doing, but everything after that just blurs and images become static. All I know if that I wake up in my bed, ready to start a new day on our trip and continued enjoying our vacations as if nothing had happened, just the added detail that my nose continuously bled from time to time the next days.

I have yet to call my parents back and tell them whether or not I would be going to the trip with them, but with how excited my wife and daughter are I don’t seem to have a choice. Whether I go or not, the invitation would still be open for my family to go and I can’t risk that thing hunting them. Not after hearing the forecast for the region and knowing that a storm just like the one back then was brewing over the forest again.

The pale man is still out there, I just know it. It has been waiting for far too long to feast on the one prey who managed to escape it. All unfortunate enough who enter its hunting grounds will be claimed by its clawed hands, and vanish them from all thoughts and memories of the people in their life. It doesn’t want flesh nor blood, but all of its prey’s essence.

The forest guards something that shouldn’t exist, something left starving for so long. If worse comes to worse, if its hunger finds itself drawn back to me and my family, then there is just one thing left for me to do.

I’m sorry, please don’t forget me.

My name is 

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July 16^th, 2018. A letter was found on a trail leading up to the skiing mountain by a group of tourists. It was soaked in blood and nigh illegible at the moment of discovery.

Upon its report, several units were dispatched for a search and rescue effort for the author of letter. Foul play was suspected. However, after an extended period of five days, and an exhaustive interview with several of the tourists in the area, none of them reported anyone missing nor seemed to indicate any change in their behavior.

After laboratories came back with results from the blood tests, there were no registries of matches to it. There is no signature to the letter either, despite there being an apparent attempt on it in the end. It was later discussed that this may have been perhaps a prank, simply to stir a fear or craze into the village. Investigations as still underway to determine the culprits behind it.

People have started to move on from these news, and with the way everything is going, the station might probably do so too in a few days.