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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/irkenjerkin on 2024-10-27 02:46:15+00:00.

I lived in a house with an extremely long, winding driveway. We grew up surrounded by the woods, and when it got late on summer evenings, and the sun finally set after busy days of playing with my neighborhood friends, the darkness swallowed up our little plot of land, and it seemed like there was no end to that sea of trees around us. Like it extended into ink in every direction.

Naturally, I was terrified of those dark woods for reasons I couldn’t explain. So as I got older, doing outdoor chores at night got harder and harder. Sometimes i’d have to take furniture off of the porch right before a big storm was approaching or else it’d blow away. Sometimes i’d just have to take the trash to the curb. I ended up being assigned to that job, out of all of my four brothers. I don’t know why my mom picked me, but I assume it was because I was always the most cautious one of the five Swanson kids. The first time I had to take the trash to the curb at night, I begged my dad to go with me out of fear. I kept doing it, so eventually we just got in the habit of doing it together. He didn’t seem to mind too much, anyway.

That is, until the night it happened.

The sunset was beautiful that night. The fireflies danced under swirls of purple and orange. We get pretty sunsets all the time around here, but something about this one was different. It was like Mother Earth was rewarding us for our hard work on that day- We had just finished demolishing an old shed that got crushed under an even older tree, uprooted by a summer storm.

The clouds seemed to gather like witches around a fire in the heart of the forest, blocking out the gibbous moon that stared down at us like our mom did when we were in trouble.

Thanks to the cloud coverage, it was so dark that we could barely see our feet in front of us as we were walking that familiar path down the barely-paved drive. My dad cracked some kind of joke that I can’t recall, and I chuckled to ease the tension.

I had taken to walking as quickly as possible down that winding path when it was dark out. I’m sure the reason for that is obvious; My dad could just about keep up with me even when I was young and spry, and I wanted to spend as little time under that dark sky as possible. The trees on either side of the path loomed over us, but I could just barely make out the cloud-smeared stars past their jagged edges.

I could hear my dad’s footsteps behind me as I gripped the black trash bag closer, the plastic strip that made up the handle getting sweaty in my hand. I focused on that sound to calm myself as my nerves started acting up, anxiety nipping at my heels.

Rhythmic, were my dad’s footsteps- He had a limp, had gotten his leg twisted up years back in a bad car crash and it never quite healed right. The dull slap of his bad foot on the pavement steadied my thoughts. He was with me, and the world seemed safe. The woods even seemed almost warm.

After what must’ve been at least a few minutes, I finally saw the end of the driveway. The stinky dumpster was a relief, for once. It meant the trip was at least halfway over.

I practically ran up to the dumpster, focusing on the rotten yellow of its lid rather than the thick woods ahead of us across the thin road that led to our house. I didn’t want to look too deeply past that treeline.

As I slammed the trash in, my dad passed me. I felt a cold chill pass down my spine when he stepped out onto the road, staring off into the woods, or maybe the sky- I couldn’t tell with his back facing me.

My thoughts were hijacked by the sensation that my rear was no longer protected by my dad’s mystical presence. I shot that thought down- He wouldn’t be able to protect me anyway, if there were really something wrong.

“Weird night tonight, huh kiddo?”

My dad’s rough voice came. I stifled an audible intake of air, not expecting him to say anything. He was a man of few words. I didn’t know what he meant, either, and I was already uneasy.

“H-Huh? Not really.” I replied.

It was just an average night, right? What was weird about it?

I shut the lid to emphasize my point. I didn’t want to seem rude, but I was done being here out so far away from the house- Whose light was now a dim glimmer through the trees, as the path back curved sharply in at least two spots. I turned away and took a step or two, ready to head back as quickly as possible.

“Are you afraid?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart stopped, too. Everything stood still for a second. I couldn’t even begin to formulate a reply, my breath caught in my frozen lungs. That. Was. Not. My dad’s voice.

It felt like an eternity before I was able to move even an inch, every fiber of my body wanting to flee. My only sanctuary was somehow wrong, and I didn’t know why.

I forced my feet to turn themselves around. Maybe my dad was just putting on a scary voice to prank me- He did that sometimes, knowing how cautious I was. Maybe he had gotten a frog in his throat. My mind clung to these fragile hopes as I looked back over my shoulder at him, hoping to gain some kind of information, or at least find out if he was okay or not. My dad was standing in the middle of the road with his back facing me.

“Dad? What’s going on?” I asked in a tiny, frail tone. My voice cracked sharply, almost quivering in dread.

He gave no response.

Then, he slowly started turning around. Painfully slowly. With inhuman, almost robotic movements, one foot after the other, one arm swiveling to face me, as if it were detached from his torso. His legs swiveled next, each part turning one after the other. His torso followed, until finally his body fully faced me.

Except for his head. His head was still backward.

And then, that started to turn too.

I shrank backward in horror beyond my control. My brain lit up with fear chemicals, my nerves suddenly blazing with a primal fear response- Everything about this was wrong and I had to get away, get away, anywhere but here.

I stood there, pissing my jorts in terror, for a good solid second further. He turned his head halfway before I bolted, and I’ll regret that second before I started running for my whole life ahead of me, because I saw just a tiny bit of his face. ITS face. It wasn’t him, if you haven’t gathered that already. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t him.

My breath burned my lungs as I frantically scrambled back up the driveway, my vision going blurry. The clouds parted overhead, lighting my way back as my flip-flops slapped hard on the pavement. The gibbous moon trained its eyes on me from its seat in the ink-black sky, drinking in my fear.

Behind me, I heard something. Crunching, thumping, footsteps that didn’t belong to my dad, plodding after me like a brown bear. Too heavy, too disordered.

No limp, either.

I remember running further on that night than my body wanted to, my legs nearly buckling out from under me. Adrenaline took over as I followed the black serpent of the driveway. My thoughts were a blur, panic thrumming through my veins, every second half-expecting to feel a cold clammy hand finally gripping my shoulder.

But the hand never stole my soul away from my flesh. I pounded up the stairs, threw open the front door, slammed it shut with all my strength, and locked it as quickly as my shaking, sweaty fingers would allow.

With my back pressed against the wall, I slid down and wrapped my arms around my knees. My face burned from the tears, the warmth of home doing nothing to comfort me as I struggled to catch my breath, my feet aching. A few shuddering, painful gasps were all I could manage before another thought trapped me in frozen, stiff silence. What if the lock wasn’t enough? What if it got in anyway?

My eyes flicked up to the window in the door. I was terrified i’d catch another glimpse of that ghastly, pale thing that might’ve once been my dad’s familiar face. But seeing the emptiness of the night sky was somehow worse. I took another breath as I got to my feet, gripping the door handle, as if, in the event of the lock failing, my own grip strength would keep the thing out. Looking back on it, that’s absolutely fucking laughable, but at the time I was acting on pure instinct.

Which might explain why I stupidly peered out through the glass, scanning for any signs of life.

I strained my eyes, trying in vain to see anything past the treeline. Even with the clouds parted, the woods held onto their secrets with a tight grip.

After a minute or two, finally something changed. The dim light couldn’t hide the trees shaking, the leaves parting, and something-

“RAAAAAAAAAGH!!”

I leapt out of my god damned skin. An outstretched fist connected with something meaty. My dumbass brother, Eric, materialized out of thin air, the door behind him ever so slightly ajar.

“Ow! What the fuck, dickhead?” He complained, rubbing his cheek. I cussed him out, my panic and rage overflowing, my head shaking from how hard I was spitting insults at him.

After several minutes of back and forth arguing, I finally calmed down enough to explain the situation to him. I’m sure it made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

When I finished, he just gave me a weird look, like I had grown a horn on my forehead.

“Dude, are you, like… Are you okay? Have you been taking your meds?” He asked quietly, shifting his position in discomfort. Something about his body language said ‘Are you high?’. This only pissed me off further.

“You either need to believe me or get the fuck out of here right now!” I shouted…

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