The Rules:

An Appalachian Trail Horror Story

By Howlietzer

Part 1: Scene 4

The camera blips back on, but the view is dark.

“Oh, damn!” Antwone’s voice picks up on the mic. A series of bone pops follow. “Shit!”

He removes the lens cap, Lance opened the trunk, his smirk overshadowed by his bloodshot eyes.

“Damn, dude, put your sunglasses back on,” Antwone rolls out of the trunk, groaning as he stretches.

“We’re here already?”

Dave slides into camera view, eating an apple. “We’re here, sleeping beauty. Get ready to hike a couple miles.”

“By a couple miles, you mean two, right?”

Dave busts out laughing. “Try five to eight. You missed the discussion on the drive up. Judy has the whole thing mapped out.”

Dave slaps Antwone’s shoulder and grabs his rucksack.

Antwone looked at his suitcase. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Don’t worry, Antwone.”

The camera lifted up to Judy’s brilliant smile.

“I took all of our fitness levels into account. We won’t be able to hike the entire Appalachian trail, but…”

She pulled out a map from her pocket and showed it to the camera.

“We’re starting here, at Springer Mountain…” her finger traced the map which had black sharpie to each point and mileage next to it.

“8.1 miles to Hawk Mountain. Then the next day, 7.7 to Gooch Mountain…”

Antwone snickered and he got a shot of Judy’s eye roll, smirk combo.

“And, we just keep going. The plan is to finish in one week, but I accounted for longer rest times, with an extra week for buffer. I doubt we’ll take a full two weeks, but you never know what will be happening on the trail.”

“You don’t think we’ll have to camp in the woods, right?” said Antwone, his voice wavered a bit.

“Afraid of mosquitos?” said Dave, lighting a cigarette. “Or do you think the rake is going to get you?”

Ned chimed in. “We’re not camping. We will make it to every single shelter.”

“Come on, Ned,” said Dave, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “Don’t you want to prove none of this is real? It’s just fun stories, parents told their kids to get them to behave.”

Ned turned away.

“Dave,” said Judy. “Can’t you go two weeks without smoking?”

Dave shrugged and tossed his half smoked cigarette into the dirt, rubbing it in with his foot.

He muttered something under his breath, but the mic didn’t catch it.

Antwone rolled out of the trunk with a thud. His feet did not catch him like he expected. Judy and Ned helped him up and he stretched and popped his joints.

“Oh wow!” he said. He saw the stone archway of Springer Mountain: the entrance to the trail.

“Is that the entrance to Narnia?” said Antwone. He was draw to it. He pulled his suitcase out and dragged it to the entrance.

Judy giggled as her footsteps could be heard behind Antwone as the camera kept rolling.

“That’s just…” said Antwone. “I’m just really impressed by that.”

Ned and Judy, who kept pace behind him, smiled as he turned the camera towards them.

“I like it too,” Judy said. “It looks like an entrance to another world.”

Ned frowned. “Yes. Let’s remember the rules, ladies and gentlemen.”

Judy smiled, “Ned, I think you should relax a bit. We’re going to have a lot of fun. Let’s just make this one last memory before we all go our separate ways.”

“I don’t think we all have to go our separate ways…” said Ned.

Judy blushed and turned away.

“I mean, I hope that we can all stay in touch,” he said turning away, clearing his throat. “I’ve never had a group of people to hang out with before college. It’s been really nice.”

“We’ll stay in touch,” she beemed.

Antwone sighed. He remembered his first time meeting Judy. They weren’t in any of the same classes. He’d been undeclared for a long time. She was always cheerful, spunky… She had that nervous habit of looking away and brushing her hair behind her ear when she got overly excited.

It was not surprising that they all had a little crush on her.

Antwone lifted his camera and zoomed in on Libby and Lance. They seemed to be having an argument as he watched their increase arm motions.

He sighed.

That was a dead relationship. Really dead. both wanted different things, and both were constantly trying.

Antwone didn’t really know what he wanted to do. He loved making movies and eventually he declared his major in writing, mostly to get to know Judy better.

He didn’t think he was her type. She had it all figured out and he was just tagging along. He aways felt like he was just tagging along.

“Antwone?” said Judy.

“Oh yeah,” said Antwone, “I zoned out for a moment. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you still wanted me to say a view words about each site?” she gestured to the Springer entrance.

“I certainly would,” he smiled and continued recording.

Judy picked a spot away from the entrance, allowing hikers to pass, and began a monologue about the trail and what they hoped to accomplish on their trip.

Everyone said their piece. Judy spoke about her book and Libby mentioned she wanted to illustrate for the book. Dave wanted to break the legendary rules of the Appalachian trail, while Ned declared they should all be mindful of them.

I’m not joking, Dave, there are forces out there we can’t contend with.

“The rake,” Dave moaned and Lance laughed.

Ned ignored him and spoke to the camera.

“Rule 1, never be in the woods between dusk till dawn.

Rule 2, never leave the marked trail.

Rule 3, if your name called…”

“No you didn’t,” everyone chimed in.

“Rule 4, if you hear screaming in the woods…”

“No you didn’t,” everyone chorused.

“Rule 5, do not whistle or sing in the woods.”

“No you didn’t,” Dave pushed Ned out of the way and smirked at the camera.

Ned pushed back. “And lastly never look too hard into the trees. You might see something you don’t want to see.”

Something

The sunlight peaked through the dense branches, helping Agatha with her excavation.

Five years old, with a trowel that she took from the family shed, Agatha was hunting for buried treasure. It was hard work. The books made it sound easy. She scratched away at the thick mud; it only made sense to start after a heavy rain, and of course, under her favorite oak tree.

She wasn’t too far from home. The tree was just within earshot of her momma, calling her for dinner. But for now, she had work to do.

She swiped at her brow, sweat dripping into the six inch hole she’d dug. Nothing yet, but there was bound to be something underneath her tree.

She started to whistle, but caught herself, remembering what her momma said.

“Don’t whistle in the woods. Something might find you.”

When Agatha asked what would find her, all her momma said was, “Hush”, or “You don’t want to know.”

But that was silly. Of course she wanted to know.

She stopped digging for a moment to listen. The wind bristled the leaves and some morning birds chirped, but otherwise not a sound.

She hesitated. And then whistled soft and low, and after a moment she sounded louder, trying to sound off as loud as she could.

Soon she was standing, toes digging into the soft ground to anchor her as she whistled the loudest she could. Cheeks red and puffed out and all the air leaving her…

It certainly was the loudest she had ever gotten. Perhaps the something was there now.

She opened her eyes and looked around her tree spot. Nothing. No something anywhere to be seen. Just trees swaying in a muggy, august breeze.

Though she admitted, the breeze was nice. She’d forgotten all about buried treasure and instead stuck her feet in the hole. She sighed as the cool mud squished between her toes.

“Well hello, young lady!” a voice sounded from behind her.

She jumped out of her hole and spun around, her trowel ready to strike a something.

“Ho ho,” said a peculiar man. “Be not afraid, young lady. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He was very odd. He had no color. He looked like a black and white image from the television. Gray and flat. He didn’t seem to have any solid form at all.

He even seemed to have a tracking problem, white lines rose from his feet to his head. Static emanating from his skin, like an outline of white noise… it was all she could hear in the now silent space.

Her heart beat faster; her breath shallow and hastened.

He smiled and waved his hand, and her body steadied.

“Breath,” he said.

She found herself breathing deep and feeling a sense of peace overtook her, a calm that spread across the forest, bringing everything back to balance. She felt it. A balance that she never noticed before as if the woods fell into sync with the presence of this man.

“Who are you, mister?”

He smiled. “You have quite a loud whistle, Agatha. It is nice to hear it, but be mindful of this space.”

She felt something in the woods around her. Something dark, but natural. Something that though she was food.

She gulped instinctually.

“There’s a sort here that likes whistling. They’re drawn to it. Especially at night. Your momma told you, I reckon?”

Agatha wasn’t aloud to talk to strangers, and this one was the strangest yet. His body blipped as he moved closer. He was terrifying and yet calming, something she couldn’t really comprehend except… maybe…

“Are you Jesus, mister?”

She’d been to Sunday school enough times to know that Jesus was God back from the dead, and that he visited people sometimes.

He looked at her for a long moment. The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“Mind your momma.”

Agatha heard a low growl and the departure of leaves brushing something that wandered away. She listened to the rustling leaves grow farther away till she couldn’t hear it.

When she turned back, he was gone.

The Rules:

An Appalachian Trail Horror Story

By Howlietzer

Part 1: Scene 3

The camera faces the parking lot and the sun is over the horizon. Antwone mumbles incoherently into the camera mic. The sound of little wheels on the rolling on the sidewalk pleasantly rap in his brain as he approaches Lance’s ford escape.

Lance stood up against the trunk, arms crossed, his dark sunglasses making him look a bit intimidating. But from experience, Antwone knew he was asleep.

“Hey wake up!” Antwone shouted over.

Lance flinched. An exasperated moan escaped.

“Not so loud, dude.”

“Hung over?”

His face twitch slightly in a, no-shit-sherlock kind of way. Antwone grinned. He was a bit hungover himself.

“Breakfast. Denny’s?”

Lance grinned, but Antwone could tell it hurt more than frowning.

“Surprised I’m the first one here.”

“No, Ned’s here. He’s just already inside.”

Ned popped his head out the window. “We were supposed to be gone 26 minutes ago.”

“Yeah…” said Antwone, “My bad. Too much to drink last night.”

“My offer to drive still stands,” said Ned. He didn’t drink.

Lance winced. No one drove his car but him.

“Did you text Judy?”

Lance looked annoyed, “Yes.”

“Dude chill,” he turned around in the parking lot. “Where’s Dave?”

Lance shrugged.

Antwone mumbled into the mic. “Damn, guy. geeze… Ah, there she is! Little miss sunshine!”

Judy and Libby came marching towards the vehicle. Large rucksacks on their backs.

“Whoa!” Antwone focused in. “Suddenly I feel like I underpacked.”

Judy laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of supplies for everyone.”

“I can share too,” Lance said hastily.

Antwone went from Lance to Judy, then to Libby.

“Libby, you party too hard last night?” said Antwone.

“Oh my god, Antwone!” she screeched rubbing her temples, “Shut the fuck up!”

“God damn,” he mumbled. “Catching strays all over the place.”

He panned back over to Lance, who seemed to be having a belly laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you’re in a better mood. What are the seating arrangements?”

“I could sit on someone’s lap, if needed,” said Libby.

“No comment,” Antwone mumbled.

He turned the camera to Ned. “I need to sit in the back, driver’s side.”

“Oddly specific.”

“Judy,” said Lance, “Could you sit…”

“Shotgun!” shouted Dave, sprinting towards them.

“What were you going to say, Lance?” said Judy, setting her rucksack against the back.

“I called shotgun,” Dave said to Lance.

Lance looked at the camera, his good mood evaporating. “He called shotgun. I was hoping you could help navigate, but…”

“I can navigate bro,” said Dave.

“But Dave called shotgun. So, I guess he’ll help,” said Lance, annoyed.

“Oh, okay,” she said cheerfully, “No worries.”

Lance glared into the camera.

“God damn…”

“I can still sit on someone’s lap,” said Libby.

“I think your shampoo will make me car sick,” said Ned

“I gotta navigate,” said Dave, finger guns and nodding.

“Honestly,” said Judy, “I think we can all squeeze in the back.”

“I’ll just chill in the trunk with the luggage,” said Antwone.

Camera goes black.

The Rules:

An Appalachian Trail Horror Story

By Howlietzer

Part 1: Scene 2

The camera turns back on to reveal the campus commons, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with students celebrating the end of the semester. Music pounds through blown-out speakers. Students drink from red cups, others clutch beer bottles and sip generously, and, of course, someone is vomiting into a decorative plant in the background.

The footage wobbles violently as Antwone pushes through the crowd, looking for his friends.

“Coming through,” he laughs. “Animal Planet, getting the scoop on ETSU’s end-of-semester rager.”

He dances and slides through the crowd, mindful of his camera lens, as he makes his way to the back of the room. His camera lands on a round table where his friends Dave, Lance, and Ned—the remaining members of the Folklore Club—are seated.

Judy and Libby are somewhere…

As he approaches, he sees Dave and Lance standing over Ned, laughing at something on his phone. Ned looks annoyed.

“Aw, hell,” Antwone says. The guys look up. “What happened?”

Dave smirks at the camera, grinning as wide as the Joker.

“We got him.”

Antwone bends down to look at the phone through his camera. Rick Astley is playing.

Ned purses his lips.

“Dave wanted me to view this latest document about the Rake he found online. It was supposed to be a sighting on the trail we’re taking.”

“And?” says Antwone.

Ned lifts his phone toward the camera as Rick Astley dances to “Never Gonna Give You Up.”

Dave topples onto the floor while Lance slaps Ned on the back, laughing hysterically. Ned’s glasses slide down his nose, his face turning red as he shoves them back into place.

Antwone tries to hold back a laugh, but his stifled chuckles register on the mic.

“Are you guys done?” says Ned.

“Yes,” says Dave as Lance pulls him back to his feet. “For now.”

Ned locks his iPhone.

“You guys are idiots.”

“Correct,” says Dave, pouring his flask of vodka into his punch.

“Where are the girls?” says Antwone, looking around for Libby and Judy.

Dave points a finger and spins in a circle.

“There are girls everywhere. Be more specific.”

“I think I saw Libby talking with some guys in Sigma Chi.” Lance grabs Dave’s flask and helps himself to some vodka.

“Dude…” Antwone zooms in on him.

Lance flips him off and downs his drink.

“I’m sorry, man,” says Antwone, though he knew Libby had her vices.

Ned lowers his head, and Dave looks away.

“Guys,” says Lance. He snaps his fingers for more vodka. He’d drained the last of the first flask. Dave hands it to him without making eye contact.

“I know. I know.” He drinks some more. “I know more than needs to be said.”

Dave stands.

“Hey, Ned, let’s get some more vodka. We’ll be back, guys.”

Ned hastily stands and follows.

“I’m coming too, guys.” Antwone races after them as they push through the crowd.

They make it outside the gymnasium, and Dave pulls out a cigarette. He lights it, and some girls give him the stink eye. He flips them off and takes a drag.

“Can I get one?” says Antwone.

Dave shrugs and hands him one, lighting it as it touches his lips. He offers one to Ned, who declines.

“He knows,” says Antwone.

Dave nods.

“He took the last of my vodka. Ned, spot me twenty bucks? I’ll owe you.”

Ned nods.

A knowing silence settles over the three of them.

Dave smiles.

“Well…” He laughs. “I’m looking forward to this trip and not looking forward to it.”

“I’ll say,” says Ned.

Dave smirks at him.

“First chance I get, Neddy, I’m whistling along the trail.”

Ned cracks a smile.

“You better not.”

I’ve been using Chat GPT to help me create my fantasy world. I’ve intructed it to give me prompts so I can work through some things. This prompt has taken me months to do. Nothing ever felt right and I’m still not sure if I nailed it.

The Prompt

Day 3 Prompt (Built From Your Work)

You’re ready for a deeper cut now.

Who in New Eden has learned how to “game” the rules—and what terrible price did they pay for thinking they understood the system better than it understands them?

Explore:

• Who they are (hunter, priest, pirate, outsider, etc.)
• What pattern they think they’ve cracked
• A moment where it works (important—make us believe them)
• The exact moment New Eden proves them wrong
• What they lose (not just death—identity, memory, humanity, faith, etc.)

Free Write Start

Nestor Gahan had it all figured out. He just needed to stay out of the woods. Nothing could get him to leave his little log cabin in New Eden. As one of the sheep farmers, he had them locked up in a barn; four walls, a roof, and a locked double door.

Nestor had even fenced his claim in chicken wire, completely around his house, barn, and garden. Even though he wasn’t as close to the woods as some farmers (something he petitioned for when he became a part of New Eden), the stories he’d heard from others as he moved in, including those in queue who had experienced awful things like haints, black-eyed children, and not-deer.

Nope.

Nestor studied well and it seemed that anything that wanted to get you was in the woods. All the rules pointed to it. As long as he kept to the city of New Haven and his home, and had nothing to do with anything else, he’d be safe.

It was evening when he heard something.

It sounded far away, almost like it was coming from the edge of the tree.

“Hey! Come here!”

Nestor pulled out his .45. He always kept it on him.

The chicken wire outlined his perimeter. He could see fine from his porch with the lanterns he’d perched down the property lines. And all the bells would alert him and his neighbors if something was there.

Of course nothing was there. That he could see, anyway.

Nestor shuddered a bit as he continued to hear the voice. A male voice, possibly. It was like a whisper. Hoarse. Low.

He ignored it. That was also in the rules.

‘If you hear a voice, no you didn’t’

All the same, he fiddled with his weapon, giving it a shine with a rag he had on his lap.

Then all the sudden his sheep started bleating, loud and shaking the barn. There was no way anything got through the wire. He’d of heard it. The chicken wire lay silent as tombstones.

He gulped and stood up, handling his .45 he started to the barn doors.

There were no windows on the building, just narrow, tight slanted slots for ventilation.

The only way in was the door.

It was perfectly intact. Did he risk it?

His hand shook as he considered the ramifications. Suppose something had gotten int there. During the day the doors were wide open, but once again something would have to get past the chicken wire.

He’d been to preaching every Sunday. Could something have gotten in when he was away?

Not to mention meeting the fellas for a drink in the New Haven Pub from time to time.

He dropped the keys. As he stooped down to grab them, he heard it again right next to his ear.

“Hey! Come here!”

He fell over on top of his keys, scooped them up, and pushed his 140lbs up and running to the house.

The door was open.

He reached for his holster. His gun!

He looked towards the barn. There was nothing there. Nothing.

“Hey! Come here!”

Each word was louder and more anunciated than before. Nestor, fell backwards off his porch and scooted himself away from the door.

“Shit! Shit!”

His body went limp. Shivers of fear swept through his body as he pushed himself up over and over after stumbling several times.

His hand still gripped the keys and he bolted straight for the barn unlocking it and opening the double doors, but as they swung open, he gasped.

Each sheep was standing up right and staring at him, their heads tilting with every movement he made.

Within he heard more voice soft and loud, “Hey! Come here!”

Over and over. Children’s voices. Women’s voices. Men’s voices. Almost a separate voice of each of his 20 sheep.

He stepped back and tripped over his gun. He grabbed it and ran back to the house and shut the door, locking it.

Panting, he slid down the door, gripping his gun tight to his chest, his heart thumping in his ears so loud.

Then on the other side of the door, he heard scratching of hooves, all around the house. Hooves scratching the walls and a mob of voices all around him.

“Hey! Come here!”

Repeatedly till morning.

Nestor didn’t wake up.

Free Write End

I may post Days 1 and 2 at some point, but I think they are very similar to what I have here. ChatGPT was really pushing me to figure out the underlying laws of my world and I wasn’t quite getting it. I’m still not sure I get it, but I look forward to figuring this out.

It’s fun to create a world!