The Cougar Review

By Tatiyana Lucio

Growing up in a small town, you get told a lot of stories over the years. Some about Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, ghosts, vampires, and witches. Out of all these stories, our town had a favorite: The Man in the Woods. The story goes that in the 80s, three teens were driving around one night, just looking for a good time, and they made the dumb decision to visit the scary abandoned house in the woods that all the townspeople avoided. Everybody avoided it because it literally looked like a real-life haunted house. It had a spooky front porch with slightly lifted floorboards, broken windows, and mail piled up outside the front door. Aside from that, the owner was known to be very mean and scary. He was always called “The Man in the Woods” because nobody knew his name or who he was; he was just a scary old man who hated people. I have never seen him, but I’ve heard many stories about people’s encounters with him.

The three teens went inside the house and were believed to have run into the man, and what happened after was totally gruesome. After that night, the teens’ mutilated bodies were found with some weird symbols all over their bodies, and after that, it was always talked about that there was believed to be some sort of witchcraft or sacrifice involved, but of course, nobody ever looked into it. Everybody just made up different stories about it being a witch, a sacrifice, or the so-called ‘man in the woods’ who probably just got tired of teens who were just being nosey. But then again, the police never took action or ever really investigated the case well enough to come up with a conclusion, so we had to make our own.

As kids, of course everybody was terrified of the story, it was scary being a kid at that time and to have a case like this so close to home but as we got older, some people forgot about the whole thing and just assumed they’d never get answers. Everyone just realized how unbelievable it was and how impossible it was to solve, which makes sense, but for me, I never really let it go. It seems that something tragic happened, and nobody had any questions or tried to investigate it. To me, those stories were way too real not to be true, and I always believed that there was something more to them than people thought. 

The night was dark and gloomy as I drove along the long road. I had been driving all day and night just to visit my hometown. I hadn’t visited in a very long time, but I needed to go back. There had been a death in the family, and I needed to be there for everybody. My uncle, Randy, had passed away about a few weeks prior, and I felt like I had to go back home, mainly for my mom. My mom had decided to make me and a few others camp out in the woods to pay homage to Randy because he loved to camp. It sounds kind of weird if you ask me, but then again, I always thought he was weird. Growing up, he was a bit of an oddball. He never really talked, he hated everything and everyone, and he never really cared about showing up to family events so as a child, I didn’t see very much of him, I just remember he always gave me the creeps. 

When I finally left home, I promised myself to never come back but yet, here we are. The only thing I could focus on apart from my thoughts, was the light shining from my car’s headlights onto the road which revealed the yellow lines that separated the lanes. As I continued to drive, my stomach immediately dropped as I passed by a certain area in the woods. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the presence of the house as if it was taunting me. It made me feel physically ill. One thing I never understood was how nobody thought to tear the building down, but there it stands for everybody to see. I remember seeing the house in the paper; even a picture of it can give you the heebie-jeebies. 

After nearly twenty-four hours of driving, I passed by a sign that said ‘Welcome to Angel’s Haven.’ I scoffed at the name; how ironic? I rolled my eyes and continued driving. According to my map, I was nearly at the campsite, which felt like a relief. I held onto my map and looked for the sign, ‘Welcome to Camp Haven.’ I slowly scanned all the signs near me until I finally found the right one. Once I had finally found it, I drove into the site, parked near where I saw a familiar car and got out of my own. I was greeted by my mom, who just pulled me into a hug before I even got to speak. My arms immediately wrapped around her and pulled her close. I’ll admit, she was the only thing here that I missed. “It’s so good to see you, Belle,” she said, and I smiled. It was nice to hear her use my nickname again. The only thing I regret about leaving here is leaving her behind with it. “I missed you more, Mom,” I said jokingly as she tightened her grip around me. Laughter comes out of my mouth while tears slowly leave my eyes. 

We both pulled away, and she wiped her tears and took a deep breath. “Well, it’s nice to see you’re back. I just wish it wasn’t because of these circumstances”. As soon as those words left her lips, I could hear the hurt in her voice. It made me really sad to see my mom so upset, but I knew she was just hurting. She was the only one who actually talked to Randy and actually knew him. His death was really taking a toll on her, and it showed. “So, where is everybody?” I asked as I began looking around for my cousins, “They’re coming later tonight; I just needed some help setting up.” She pointed to a few tents that she had on the ground, and I nod before walking towards them and begin to assemble. 

After a couple of hours, the tents were finally assembled, and I sighed in relief.

“Thank god!” I yelled, “I need a break.”My mom nods in agreement and sits down at a bench nearby. “Thanks for your help,” I smiled, “Anytime.”. I began to look around us, and I realized I had no idea where we were at. As I began to look around, I realized there was a path leading deeper into the woods. For some unknown reason, I felt almost compelled to follow it. “Hey, mom?” “Yeah?” she questions. I turned my attention away and turned to face her. “Where does this go?” I asked while pointing towards the path, and she shrugged in response, “No idea.” I stared at the path a little longer, debating whether or not I should follow it as if she knew exactly what I’m thinking, I hear her say, “You can go if you want. I’ll be here when you get back. Just, be careful”. I nod in response and begin to follow the path.

I started walking down the rocky path, looking around at the trees surrounding me. I began to get further and further into the woods, and I came across two paths leading in two directions. After a few minutes of trying to decide which way to go, something told me to go left, so I began to follow it. Something about this particular part of the woods made me feel uneasy. The energy was off, and it made my stomach turn. I felt I shouldn’t have gone this way, as if somebody was watching and waiting for me. I felt like I should turn back, but another part felt almost compelled to continue this way. I passed by what felt like millions of trees and, after a while, saw the same thing. I saw it. I saw the house. As soon as I laid eyes on it, my stomach dropped. This was the place. This was where those kids got killed. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t decide if I should just walk away or go inside. I knew going inside would be a bad idea, but it felt like that’s what I was supposed to do. I stood in front of the house until I finally decided to go inside. 

I walked towards the house and up the porch stairs. The steps began to creak as I slowly began to step on them. Once I reached the top, I carefully walked towards the door, which looked like it had been opened. I lightly pushed the door until it swung all the way open, the door hinges making a very loud, creaky noise. I stepped into the house and took a second to look around. A flight of stairs led to the upstairs floor, and two long halls led to the living room and the kitchen. I decided to take the hallway to the kitchen and dining room. The table was messy, and the room smelt like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. I was looking around and found some envelopes on the table that caught my attention. I leaned closer, picked up one of the envelopes, dusted it off, and realized it was addressed to my uncle Randy. My heart began to beat faster, and my stomach dropped all the way down. 

It didn’t make sense. Why would Randy’s mail be here, of all places? I decided to look around more and looked at the living room. Once I entered the room, I looked down at the coffee table before me to see a stack of Polaroid pictures and a journal just sitting there. They were just sitting there as if somebody wanted me to see them. I picked them up, and what I saw made me physically ill. There were pictures of my uncle Randy posing with the three teens’ deceased bodies. I immediately threw them down and tried to hold in the vomit that was burning my throat. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, it couldn’t be true. It just didn’t make any sense to me. While I knew I should’ve just left, my gut told me to read the journal. I picked it up and realized the journal had the initials R. G. engraved. Those were Randy’s initials. I began to continuously flip through the pages. One particular page caught my eye. June, 1982. I finally did it. I sacrificed the lives of the innocent to the man down under. I feel so alive. I’ve never felt more alive in my entire life. This is it. I’ve been looking for the calling my entire life, and I’ve finally found it. The devil gives me the strength to take the lives of others, and for that, I thank him. Oh, how I thank the man with the horns. I will continue to sin for as long as I live.