On Halloween of 1988, six teenage boys ventured into a tunnel on a local railroad. Only one escaped with his life and a photo. What resulted from that innocent venture was a two-year period of unexplained murders which killed off a good ten percent of my small town’s population. To this day, no one knows the true fate of the five boys and the reason behind the murders that lasted until the fall of 1990, except for me. I’m the lone survivor of the six who encountered The Wanderer on the Tracks on that dark Halloween of 1988. It was supposed to be a simple dare, nothing to it.
Everyone had heard of how, every Halloween, people head into the tunnel and never come out. We all thought it was bullshit. Then again, we were only fourteen, and not very well learned in the way of the paranormal. All we expected was just some crazy dude in a bed sheet. However, what we found was much worse. And what we did made the outcome ten times worse than it could’ve been. I guess that “curiosity killed the cat” really fits when remembering this story. It was me (Steve), John, Andy, George, Bill, and Fred. Explaining our choice of costume is irrelevant. However, let us note that we all brought flashlights and Andy had brought a bucket to collect candy in. Foolish Andy. I remember your death so vividly it haunts my dreams to this very day – and she does, too.
But not for long.
We all had dinner at John’s house, as it was closest to the tunnel. After that, we played some Super Mario Bros. on his NES to pass time until it was dark. When it was, we all departed to complete the dare we so foolishly accepted. I carried a Polaroid to show everyone what was really in the tunnel. We left when it was considerably dark outside. Most of the dads were parading their seven year olds up and down the street getting candy before it got really dark. There had recently been some kidnappings in the area, but we didn’t expect to meet the suspect, so we thought we would be safe.
With each step towards the tunnel it seemed as if it got darker, and when we arrived there, it was pitch black, and it was pretty much only us and the older trick-or-treaters outside. We all stopped at the entrance of the tunnel for a moment, realizing that we may not make it out alive. After waiting one more moment, we hesitantly stepped inside, turning on all of our flashlights. No one really wanted to do this. We felt this more and more as we went deeper into the tunnel. It was weird though; usually a tunnel ended around 500 feet, but it seemed like this one went on for miles.
We went on for what I want to say was another three-thousand feet. That’s when we saw it. At the time, we had no idea what it was. If I had a choice, I would wish that I never found out what it was and what it did.
“The fuck is that?” Bill asked, half-whispering to the rest of us. What we saw looked like a girl that had covered herself in dark paint or make up and had on a plain old nightgown. She was holding what looked like a rod, or staff. Her back was facing us.
“Beats me,” Andy shrugged. “Hey!” he yelled at the thing before throwing the bucket at it. It clanged off of the creature and rolled to the right of the track. Suddenly, it made the most gruesome noise in the world as its head rotated 180 degrees to stare back at us. I hastily took out my Polaroid and shot a picture of it. I put away the camera and shook the developing picture before putting it inside my pocket.
Everyone was frozen in place looking at the creature, seemingly paralyzed. Soon, the creature lifted the rod and threw it at Andy. It was horrifying and amazing, seeing it throw what we now KNEW was a spear with such dexterity, as well as doing it backwards. The spear struck Andy in the chest, dead center in the sternum. His ribcage collapsed and blood sprayed from the entry and the exit. His spine snapped, and he crumpled to the ground. The blood splattered spear was stuck in the ground a good forty feet behind us. It was only a moment before we actually thought to run. We didn’t even try to save Andy. I turned my head and saw the creature ripping open his chest, tearing muscle and organs apart as our dying counterpart screamed in his death throes. It seemed like the creature wanted to separate flesh from bone, as that is exactly what it had done. Andy’s flesh and innards were scattered around his skeleton in a pool of his blood. It was coming for the rest of us now.
Bill was the next one it caught, eviscerating him in the same manner as it did to Andy. Then she got George, and then Fred. It was me and John left. The creature was so close we could feel its putrid breath on our necks. We both heard its demonic growls and screeches as we just barely escaped its furious grabs for our costumes. We kept on running even though the lactic acid had built up so much in our arms and legs, and our breath was ragged, and we were so damn tired.
Soon, we saw the end of the tunnel. Somehow, it was morning, which was so illogical, but John and I were both happy to see the light of day. Suddenly, I heard a trip and stumble. John had fucking tripped. We were outside of the tunnel, and he tripped. I didn’t even need to turn my head to know he would be gored and gutted. I ran a safe distance away behind some trees near my house. His screams echoed through the neighborhood and awoke several families, wandering outside to see what was happening. Everyone who went outside all saw the creature as it tore apart John. When it was done, it swept its eyes across the shocked citizens of my small town and let out a deafening roar that no man or animal could create. It then dashed back inside the tunnel, and everyone ran inside their homes, including me.
For two years after that, the people who saw the creature were found disemboweled and skinned in their homes. Some people tried to move, but I heard them say it was like they were chained here. The creature was holding everyone here, keeping everyone who had seen it captive in this town. I’m the last surviving person who saw the Wanderer on the Tracks, and my time is coming soon. How did I last this long? I don’t know. I bet its teasing me, torturing me, making me shit my pants every time I turn a corner. It’s taken a hold of my life and I can no longer function like other people.
I can no longer go out in the dark. My windows are always closed, the blinds always down, the doors always locked. I’ve tried to kill myself multiple times, but I can’t. It won’t let me. Recently, I’ve been hearing the dying screams of my dying friends. I’ve heard a bucket clanging from outside my window. Tapping on my front door at night. It’s a sign.
It’s coming for me soon.
Music by Myuu