This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Professional_Ruin709 on 2024-11-23 03:44:03+00:00.


“Help,” I read in the sand, helicopter blades whirring above me. I don’t see any movement, but I can’t just leave. I radio the pilot. 

“You think this is them?” 

“Only one way to know,” he responds. 

We may have finally found them: the two women who disappeared a few weeks ago after they went overboard on a boat somewhere in the Atlantic. The helicopter begins to descend. Sand blows in all directions as we touch down. 

Stepping out, a faint rhythmic hum drifts through the forest, too distant to be natural. I shake it off, blaming the heat and nerves. As I get closer, I realize the sign is made from heaps of old seaweed. 

“Clever,” I whisper. “But who makes a ‘help’ sign just to leave?” 

I walk toward the run-down hut, searching for signs of life. 

“Hello?” I shout. 

No answer. Inside the hut, I find charred wood and scraps of bone. Whoever was here knew what they were doing. 

Paul, the pilot, walks up behind me. 

“Find anything?” he asks. 

“No. Just piles of wood and bone. Promising, but not conclusive.” 

Paul and I venture into the dank tropical forest, searching for signs of life. Suddenly, I spot someone—a woman. 

“Hey!” I call. “We’re here to help!” 

She tilts her head, like a dog trying to pinpoint a sound. Then she bolts toward me, her grimace unnervingly wide. My instincts kick in—I turn and run, branches scratching at my legs, rocks sending me stumbling. By the time I reach the helicopter, gasping for breath, I turn back. Nothing. 

What was that? Was it one of the missing women? 

“Paul, get back here,” I radio. My voice shakes. When he arrives, I blurt it out: “I saw someone. She matched the description, but when I called, she ran—no, sprinted—at me. Inhumanly fast.” 

We search the cargo and equip ourselves with tasers. We return to where I saw her, but there’s no sign. Paul finds a trail of broken sticks, and we follow it. An overwhelming sense of dread clings to the air, but I don’t tell Paul. I think he feels it, too. 

As we near the end of the trail, I notice what looks like a ritual site. Stones are arranged in strange patterns, charred leaves and sticks litter the ground. Symbols are carved into the nearby coconut trees, jagged lines catching what little light filters through the canopy. 

Paul tries to lighten the mood. “You believe in this ritual stuff?” he mutters, kicking dirt, his eyes darting to the carvings. I hear the tremor in his voice, despite his attempt to sound calm. 

“I don’t know,” I reply. “But isn’t it a bit suspicious that this is here right after I was chased?” 

I continue to investigate, but then I hear it—a deep, animal-like groan. My head snaps back, along with Paul’s. 

There she is—the woman I saw earlier. But this time, she has a partner. One leaps at Paul, knocking him out before he can even reach for his taser. I equip mine and aim at the closest woman. As I discharge the taser, she grows visibly agitated—but not by the weapon. It has no effect. She grabs the taser wire with a snarl, yanking it from my hand. Before I can react, the other woman tackles me to the ground with a strength I didn’t know was possible. 

Everything goes black. 

----- 

When I awaken, I’m lying on a rock in the center of the ritual site. My hands are bound, and the air feels thicker, darker. I scream, “Where’s Paul? What did you do to him?” 

One of the women approaches. Her expression is blank, but her eyes gleam in the dim light. “He is… elsewhere,” she says with a slow, eerie voice. 

The other woman joins her, and they begin to chant in a low, guttural language that reverberates in my chest. The words twist around me like a smothering fog. I shout, “What are you doing?” But they ignore me, their voices growing louder, the chant quickening. 

Suddenly, their eyes snap open, looking past me as if something unseen had arrived. Their jaws unhinge slightly as they smile in perfect unison—teeth sharper than they had any right to be. Their lips stop moving, but I hear their voices, clearer than before: “He has come for you. He will show you the way.” 

A shiver races down my spine. I pull against my restraints. The woman on my left draws a knife and steps closer. She tilts her head, watching me with an almost curious gaze. “Don’t worry,” she whispers, her smile chillingly gentle. “You won’t be alone.” 

In the distance, I hear a familiar voice—Paul’s voice—calling my name. But it sounds wrong. Distorted. Like an echo through a tunnel. My heart pounds as I realize the voice is coming closer, but I can’t see anything in the darkness. The air cools as the malevolent force nears. 

The woman raises the knife above me, her eyes glassy, almost devilish, as if she’s looking at someone—something—just behind me.