The curly-haired teen sat at his desk on a rainy evening, eyes half-lidded as he scrolled through the computer in his room, light casting a silhouette in his rain-splattered window. His eyes dragged over the monitor lazily, backpack set aside with a stack of freshly finished homework that had been completed on the edge of hitting three am exactly. He was dressed in a large t-shirt at the current time, pyjama pants soft against his legs as he pulled one knee up to his chest, resting a chin on it. It was terrible posture, Wilbur thought idly. It was reminiscent of something Phil would have pointed out jokingly, though there was little that Wilbur took seriously from his older friend.
There was a restless itch in his leg as it bounced against the ground, too much energy to sleep, yet not sleepy enough to commit to laying in bed for the next hour with his head clouded by thoughts he would rather avoid for that night. It was a different itch this time, however. Something more of a wanderlust compared to simple restless energy he could burn off in a quick burst of productivity. There was only one way he knew to deal with it, which lead him to scroll through forums all throughout the internet to quench his need for change.
He was a fickle person, even as a seventeen-year-old going on eighteen in a couple of months. He had little keeping him tied down, besides his friends, and his constant urge to get up and run away was something that he had been struggling with since he was only fifteen years old. It was a problem, if not emotionally-crippling when in the middle of breakdowns that left him questioning his place in life and why he was the way he was. His outlet was adventuring with his friends at the time being, finding it a welcome change from his daily, gray life.
Wilbur Soot is certainly not one to listen to the backlash he may get from his friends when it comes to stepping out of his comfort zone, and as a result, dragging them out of theirs as well. It’s something of a special talent of his now, with how effectively he was able to make things exciting in the blood-pumping way that sent shivers down your spine and hair raising on your arms. He was certainly no stranger to it, and that made it all the more addicting when he stumbled across a forum on the internet that was too appealing to ignore.
His eyes narrowed at the post, written by a throwaway account that had made it nearly three years prior. A ghost-hunting site was what it was described as, and had nearly 6,000 engagements, about 4,000 upvotes from the multiple users that it had come across. It was the perfect poison to his wine that he needed to keep his blood pumping. Wilbur clicked on the thread, eyes wandering over the screen as he read off the information on the page.
I might have found a demon in historic ruins…
I don’t know who’ll end up seeing this, or even if it’ll pick up traction, but I need to get this off my chest while I still can. This is one of my only posts on this site, whether it be from a main or a throwaway. I just couldn’t keep it to myself if I wanted to, despite how much I think it might hurt me in the long run.
I’ll preface this by saying that I’ve had an interest in the paranormal for a very large portion of my life, despite the skeptics that might see it as something idiotic and a hobby made for wasting precious time. I’ve always stood strong with the theory that there’s a higher being out there who controls parts of our lives, but I’ve also believed in life after death for an incredibly long time. It was my mother who taught me to respect the dead and do good on their names and treat them as though they were still with us because in some cases, they would be.
It was pure coincidence that I came across this paranormal hotspot in the first place, I’ll be honest. I was browsing vacation places that I could take the family to as a surprise, around mid-September. I came across the area first through google maps, which sounds a little anti-climactic. It was called L’manberg, and it was advertised as a historical site that people could browse in the daytime. The closing time was unusually early, ending an hour before sunset almost every time I looked at the times. The schedule accounted for the seasons as well, which I found odd. Surely you would want more revenue in the winter, where it was slower in the economy and there was more demand for food and entertainment?
A quick look at the reviews had sent me down a rabbit hole, finding hundreds upon a single click. It was a popular place, though there were little reviews that had to do with the town itself; rather, it was the eeriness of the estate that was highlighted in the many reviews that I scrolled through. There were accounts of stepping into the large stone castle and immediately getting goosebumps without any exception. Even bundled up in a coat, scarf, gloves and hat, they would appear, giving the people visiting a full-body feeling of unease.
When entering the bakery, long since shut down and left to be a display, people reported accounts of burning embers and faint laughs that would follow them out of the arching door. It was a natural stone wall that the bakery was built into, leaving the sounds to echo around in the hollow of the cave. It gave a warmth that wasn’t natural, but it was still something inhuman.
There were more accounts, of course, but these were less grounded and not as detailed as the two hotspots of the town people liked to visit. The castle and bakery were the most popular, so of course, there would be more cases of the supernatural there.
Of course, I was immediately enthralled with the idea of a haunted town so easy to access. The only problem was that it was only open in the daytime, which was a bit of a downside when it came to finding the maximum amount of paranormal activity in what seemed to be an incredibly haunted town.
What I did next, admittedly, wasn’t my smartest move. I had made the decision to break into the town after hours. I had to wait out for a while, but when I got there, it had hit at least two am. It was about an hour from witching hour, and I was excited, to say the least. I had my ouija board, my spirit box, my EMF reader, and everything else that I could think of and kept on me regularly. I even had a small battery radio, in case the spirit box was too hard for the paranormal there to commune through.
I had made my way up the path when the first occurrence came, faster than I had expected. It was by a small three-way intersection on the top of a cliff, a tree and a withered bench planted at the front just behind the fence that had been built there later. It was clear in the modern look of the build, at least to me. Almost as soon as I made a move to set up my things by the bench, I felt as though I had eyes on the back of my neck, the sensation so strong that it almost felt like a full-body chill that overtook my every movement.
Despite this, I continued, although I moved away from the bench and set my things down in the middle of the path instead. None of the reviews I had seen had mentioned anything about the path itself being haunted, nor did it bring attention to the bench under the birch tree overhanging a cliff. It was almost like it wasn’t something that drew their attention.
I decided to start off with my spirit box, leaving it going as I set up the EMF reader. It was a bit buggy since I had broken it a little on the last excursion I had. The Ouija board seemed a bit premature to pull out at the moment, but I decided to take it out anyway. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see it properly, though I easily could put the words together with context clues. The lanterns that dotted the streets were dim, and I didn’t want to know whether they were lit every not of their own accord or not.
Almost immediately, the spirit box was flung away from the path, scattering off into the bushes by the path. I didn’t want to lose it, since it had a bit of sentimental value to me, but when I had gotten up to get it, the planchette of the board started to slide around the path rapidly, bumping into the lip of the Ouija board rapidly. (I apologize for the descriptions, I’m not the best at describing things like this in a way that would make proper sense.)
I was excited, of course. It was the most blatant evidence of a ghost I had ever seen. I started freaking out around this point, and it’s a bit hard to remember what had happened since it all escalated so quickly.
The Ouija board went flying, and the spirit box cut off after illegible screaming that had gone through it. My radio, that hadn’t even been on, began flipping through channels incredibly quickly. I could barely make out the words GET OUT playing over and over and over from my spirit box. I left almost as quickly as I could, and I could faintly hear screams and rallying cries of a mob as I rushed past an old, broken podium made of black stone that was cracked and dusty, broken remains of a throne set up on it.
Almost as soon as I left, the screams disappeared. The rallying cries cut off and the feeling of dread that had been building in my chest, unknown, had vanished. It was just replaced with pure fear. For weeks after I had left, I had cases of walls bumping harshly in the night, voices following me when I went down any distant alleyway. At one point, my girlfriend, who had no knowledge of the trip or that I was as interested in the paranormal as I was, asked me if I had pissed someone off since she would get calls to her home in which the caller would stay silent before finally screeching an inaudible curse at her before hanging up. This had happened at least twice a week.
I was terrified for a while before it finally had gone away after a month or two, seemingly finished with its goal of terrorizing me and my loved ones. I had resolved to never step foot in that town again, daytime or not.
If anyone comes across this post who would consider visiting this place, I would strongly advise not to. I don’t know what lives in that town, but it’s nothing good. I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone, the terror too much to handle after merely two weeks. It’s not worth the quick adrenaline rush, nor was it worth the curiosity. Keep this warning in mind.
Wilbur sat back in his chair after reaching the end, fingertips buzzing as a small smile spread up his face. It was so grossly exaggerated he could almost laugh at how made-up it sounded. It was typically a 2018 horror-story type trope of a haunted town and a demon who had taken over someone’s life for a couple of months. It certainly fits the timeline, considering it was posted only three years prior.
He humoured himself with a quick google search anyway, looking through google maps to find the town in question. His hand hovered over the mouse as he found the name quickly, a link leading to a website that had looked abandoned. Upon a closer look, he noted that it had been abandoned; since the last year, it had been closed down, set aside and almost brushed away. Wilbur felt a jolt of curiosity go through him, and his wanderlust came back almost ten-fold. He sat back in his chair, chewing at his lip for a moment as he pondered his choices.
It was one of the sketchiest things he had ever seen in his life, and he found it through Reddit. It could very well be a hoax meant to see who would fall for the stupidest horror story he had ever heard, and it could just be the equivalent of walking into a police raid or a drug cartel-
It was only a half-hour away.
Wilbur’s eyes flit over the screen again, blue light reflecting off of his glasses as he contemplated the choices he had. It was easy, in the end, as much as he wanted to say he hadn’t fallen for a clickbait post. He opened Discord, copy-and-pasting the link to the post and sending it to one of the many servers his friends resided in, the message sending at 3:14 am exactly.
wilbur :)
[ Link Attached ]
anyone have weekend plans they want to cancel? :)
