William Hughes always thought of himself as a simple man. A good ol’ boy who enjoyed the great outdoors, cold beer, and dad jokes that made no one laugh. So when he got the job as a forest ranger at Black Hollow National Park, he couldn’t believe his luck. He’d be paid to hike, camp, and keep people from accidentally starting fires. Easy, right?

The ranger station stood deep within the park, surrounded by towering pines that swayed in the wind. It was the kind of place William had dreamed of working at since his first Boy Scout camping trip.

On his first day, the park supervisor, Mr. Grayson, gave him a brisk tour.

“Most of the job is routine—maintenance, guiding lost hikers, and keeping tabs on the wildlife,” Grayson said, his face stern. “But at night…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced toward the thick forest as if expecting something to emerge. “Just… stay in the station after dark. If you hear anything strange, lock the doors and stay quiet.”

William chuckled, assuming there was some kind of hazing ritual. “You had me for a second there, boss. Anything else I should know? Bears? Coyotes? Maybe Bigfoot?”

Grayson didn’t laugh. Instead, he clapped William on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

...

On his third night in the park, William decided to do a solo patrol. The sun was setting, bathing the forest in hues of orange and red. His flashlight cut through the dimming light as he ambled along the trails, humming a tune and swinging his thermos of coffee.

But as the sky darkened, the forest grew eerily silent. No rustling leaves, no chirping crickets—just the sound of his boots crunching gravel.

“Man, y’all need a livelier nightlife,” William muttered to no one in particular.

Then he heard it: a faint cry for help.

“Hello?” William called, his voice echoing.

“Help me,” the voice whimpered again, sounding closer now. It was soft, childlike.

William’s stomach knotted. A lost kid? He turned off the trail, following the sound deeper into the woods.

But when he found the source of the noise, his blood ran cold.

It wasn’t a child.

Standing before him was a creature that defied logic. Its elongated, sinewy body was draped in patches of fur and leathery hide. Its face—or what should have been a face—was a massive elk skull, its hollow eye sockets two pits of murky darkness. The monstrosity crouched low to the ground, sniffing the air with grotesque fervor.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Help me,” it said again, but the words didn’t match its grotesque maw. It was mimicking. Mocking.

William stumbled backward, his flashlight trembling in his grip. “Oh, nope! Nope, nope, nope!” he stammered, turning to run.

But the creature didn’t chase. Instead, it tilted its head, listening as William’s pounding footsteps faded.

...

By the time William made it back to the ranger station, he was drenched in sweat. He slammed the door shut, locking it with trembling hands.

“You’re fine, man. It’s just… just a bear. A really weird bear,” he told himself, although the nature-defying image of the elk-skulled monster refused to leave his mind.

Then he heard scratching at the door.

His breath hitched as he grabbed the station’s rifle, aiming it at the entrance. The scratching stopped.

“William?” a voice called.

His heart skipped a beat. It was Grayson.

“You okay in there?”

William lowered the rifle, relieved. “Boss? Is that you? Man, you won’t believe what I just saw out there—”

Something slammed against the door with inhuman strength, shaking the entire station.

“William…” the voice said again, now distorted, guttural.

He stumbled back, the realization dawning on him. It wasn’t Grayson.

The creature tore through the door, its jagged antlers scraping against the frame as it forced its way inside. William fired, the bullet hitting its shoulder. The monster barely flinched, its hollow eyes locking onto him.

“Wha- what?!” William exclaimed.

The unnatural monstrosity slowly shook its head from side to side, as if mocking his futile attempt to harm it.

“Think, think!” he muttered, his gaze darting around the room. His eyes landed on the old iron fire poker by the station’s wood stove.

The creature lunged, and William grabbed the poker, swinging it like a baseball bat. The iron struck its skull, and the beast let out an unholy shriek, recoiling as smoke sizzled from its flesh.

“Oh, you don’t like that, huh?” William said, a wild grin spreading across his face.

He shoved the creature back with all his strength, then grabbed a canister of kerosene from the corner. While the creature regained its footing, William sprayed it with the flammable liquid.

“Let’s light this candle,” he quipped, flicking his Zippo lighter. The flame danced in his hand before he hurled it at the monster.

The beast erupted into flames, thrashing and howling as it stumbled out of the station and into the forest. The fire spread quickly, consuming the dry underbrush.

William ran, his lungs burning from smoke as he put as much distance as possible between himself and the inferno.

...

By morning, a large section of the forest had been reduced to ash. Grayson and a team of firefighters found William sitting on a rock near the edge of the burn, covered in soot but grinning like a lunatic.

“You started a forest fire?” Grayson asked, incredulous.

William shrugged. “Turns out fire’s great for pest control.”

Grayson stared at him for a long moment, then smirked. “You’ll fit in just fine, Hughes.”

But as they walked back to the station, William couldn’t shake the feeling that the creature’s shrieks still echoed faintly in the distance.

The forest had its secrets, and he knew this was only the beginning.