text: When I was young, I lived with my family in an old farmhouse. It passed through generations, families adding onto it to suit their needs. My father hadn’t needed to add anything, as our family was rather smaller than those that preceded us. We weren’t poor, but we didn’t have much and as a result, I found that I was working on our farm almost all the time. Or it seemed that way to me. But some days, I would be free to go wandering the property unfettered by chores or my siblings. I would take only the family dog, a scruffy mutt named Scout, and we would have adventures of our own. On one such day, we wandered near the edge of the cornfield, where the wood began. I was searching for blackberry bushes when I realized there was a small, hidden path among the shrubs. Naturally, I called Scout over and we set out at once down the path. I had never heard anything from my family about a path on the property, and I was interested to find out where it led. I noticed that it was only just wide enough to walk side by side with the dog. Not that he stayed by my side of course - he wandered about the path, sniffing everything he could fine. The path was strangely clear, considering that it was blocked off, and I’d never heard anyone mention it before. No grass or weeds grew in the packed soil, all the foliage lined the trail neatly to either side. I followed along the path for a few minutes, when the birdsong seemed to grow quieter. Scout’s ears seemed to perk up, and he slowed to a standstill. His nose twitched in the air, sniffing for something. I paused as well, watching to see what Scout had found. He whined very quietly, and his hackles rose. Nervous now, I looked in the direction he was staring. The path continued in a very steady direction, and I could see a long way forward. At the very spot where perspective dims to just a speck, there seemed to be... something. It was impossible to make out what it was, if something was even there at all. My eyes seemed to be playing tricks on me. Scout whined once more, and started to back away. I began to feel unsettled, concerned that Scout had smelled something dangerous, maybe a bear or mountain lion. Although I’d never seen either so close to the house. I looked to the dog, then back down the path. It was clear now that there was something down the trail, I could only just make out something moving. And a distant sound, like a bird call or whistle... but unlike any bird I’d ever heard before. The figure didn’t seem to be moving very fast, or in any particular direction I could determine. Either way, I didn’t want to stay on this path any longer. Whatever the figure was, no good could come of waiting for it to approach. I turned to follow Scout, and the dog seemed eager to leave, no longer sniffing around. I kept looking over my shoulder, watching for the distant shape. It became harder to make out, and I couldn’t tell if it was following or merely staying in place. The path curved ahead of me, and I picked up my pace, beginning to feel frightened in earnest now. Scout seemed to sense my disquiet, and matched my speed, although he continued to whine. Despite knowing that whatever was behind us was no longer in sight, I continued to throw frantic glances over my shoulder. There remained no sign of the thing. As we hurried forward, I began to search for the mouth of the path - and the opening back into the cornfield. But minutes passed and there was no sign of it. I couldn't have been walking this long on the way into the path. I was far too afraid to backtrack, so continuing forward was the only option. I again increased my pace, rushing now, still glancing behind me. The birds had not resumed their song. I kept rushing forward, searching for the entrance. Then, behind me and from a distance, I heard what sounded like my mother calling. I froze, certain that her voice was coming from the wrong direction of the ancient farmhouse. Could it have been someone else, who sounded like my mother? I was certain no one lived within miles of our property. I dithered on the spot, uncertain what to do. I was convinced I’d heard someone calling behind me, was that what the figure was all along - just a woman on a hike? I took a few tentative steps back, treading quietly. Only a few steps brought me to a curve in the trail, as I rounded the bend, I found myself back at the same place I was when I’d first seen the figure. It was still there, but seemed closer now. As I looked, it drew ever closer still. Its edges seemed blurred, its colour uncertain. I watched a moment, trying to decide who it could be, if it was a man or woman.. or a person at all. As it advanced, I became more and more hesitant to classify it. Whatever it was, it called out again. It called out to me. It no longer sounded like my mother. Or anyone’s mother. It sounded grating, and echoed through the woods. It was closer now, seeming to suddenly rush across the distance without moving at all. It was still difficult to focus on, its nature defied comprehension. I had a sense of many long limbs, blurred and twitching, Its long face seemed pale one moment and dark the next. I caught a glimpse of pure, black eyes. The only thing about this creature that was steady were its eyes. The body jerked along the path, but its eyes remained fixed upon me. Beside me, Scout began barking fanatically, attempting to scare off this apparition. It proceeded forward, unphased, in its stuttering manor. The sound of my dog broke me out of my trance, I whistled to Scout, turned and ran. The thing was far enough away that we had a strong head start. But as we ran, we seemed to get no nearer to finding the opening in the foliage. I could hear the thing calling out behind me, and I now recognized the chilling perversion of my mother’s voice in it. It was as if my mother’s voice was being mimicked by something with only the barest comprehension of speech. Now that I’d seen it closer, it had abandoned all attempts at fooling me. I rushed onward, desperately searching for the exit. I could now hear it scrabbling along the dirt behind me. I threw another terrified glance behind me. The pursuer had grown impossibly tall, and its face was stretched long. Its mouth was wide, and opened wider still, seeming to almost split its head in half on a hinge. Its mouth was full of rows and rows of needle-shaped teeth, lining its maw in spirals down its throat and out of sight. A sickly sweet stench seemed to blast toward me, hot and fetid. Its greyish skin was cover in pustules, rotted and weeping. It reached a long arm toward me, tipped with three vicious claws. At that moment, I crashed through the brush and found myself on my back in the bright sunlight outside the wood. I was surrounded by the corn. Scout had leapt out in front of me, and whirled to confront our attacker. But there was nothing there. I blinked and got to my feet, peering through the undergrowth. There was no sign of a creature or a path. My heart was still pounding as I started back towards the house. I knew I hadn’t imagined the encounter. But I could find no evidence of the thing without going back into the wood. I would never venture into that forest again. Scout and I headed back toward home. I continued to peek over my shoulder, but nothing followed, and there was no sign of anything moving between the trees. That night, as I lay awake in bed, I couldn’t sleep for fear of the return of the spectre from the path. It didn’t help matters that in the darkest hours of the night, I heard a repeated soft whistling sound directly outside my window.