I Found My Missing Daughter In The Woods Behind Our House

Every detail of the day I lost her has been on replay in my mind since the second I walked onto the back porch and saw that she wasn’t there. It was a warm summer. We lived in a small town, the only notable feature being a government run pharmaceutical plant on the edge of town bordering the woods. The forests were vast, very easy to get lost in. Our house was situated right on the edge of the woods. The property line of our back yard ended under the shade of trees.

My daughter, Sarah, was on the swing in the backyard. Her mother had passed away the year prior, and let me say that raising a nine year old girl by yourself is not easy, but she was my everything.

“Look how high I’m getting!” she shouted as she came close to clearing the bar, making me more than a little nervous.

“Be careful, sweetie,” I replied. The single person swing set, which I had installed myself to the best of my abilities, creaked and swayed. Seeing the writing on the wall, I dashed forward. It fell. Sarah scraped her knee on the dirt.

I rushed next to her, expecting tears. She had surprised me. She looked up, pain under her smile. “Did you see how high I got?”

“Yeah…” I said, unsure of what else to say. “Yeah I did. When I get this fixed, maybe try not going as high.” I laughed and pat her head. “Stay put. I’m going to grab some bandages and some antibiotic.”

“Okay,” she said in that sweet little voice of hers. I walked into our house from the wood steps of the back porch and turned into the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some large bandages and antibiotic cream.

I walked back onto the porch, my eyes fixed on the spot she fell. She wasn’t there.

“Sarah?” I called out. I held my breathe. I went down the wood steps, each footstep echoing in my ear. “Hey, kiddo! This isn’t funny! Come out!” My voice echoed.

I walked towards the fallen swing. “Sarah!” I yelled as my walk transitioned into panicked running. I screamed her name, over and over until it hurt. I called the police, probably sounding damn near incoherent.

A search party was formed that night. The town sheriff brought dogs with him to try and catch her sent. I was with a group heading down the center of the woods. It was the only place ahe could have gone. No one had seen her anywhere in town. Sherif Perkins was with me. He was about ten years my senior, grey hairs just forming on his head.

“We’ll find her, John,” he kept telling me and patting my shoulder. It did little to ease my fears. A couple of his deputies led the search parties on our flanks, spaced out enough to be out of view.

Branches crunched underfoot as we walked through the forest. We must have been a good mile or two in when I heard one of the dogs barking from the group on our left. It was barely audible, nearly swallowed by the vastness of the forest. Not thinking, I ran in the direction of the sound. If it was my daughter, I wanted to know, and I wanted to know now.

The barking cut off abruptly. I swore I heard someone scream. I broke through a set of bushes and saw the dog next to an old birch. It was missing its front half. The leash lay on the ground next to it, torn towards where it attached to the collar. My eyes followed the leash to its holder. What remained of the deputy holding the leash wasn’t much. His head and half his torso were missing, up to his chest. Blood soaked the dirt around the old birch. I stared, dumbfounded. I heard the rustle of branches to my left and whipped my head around, nearly stumbling. I saw the rest of the group that must have been accompanying the deputy. They stared in horror at the bodies and then back at me. One of them, a woman in her sixties who we all referred to as Ms. Erika was the first to speak. “What happened? Was it a bear?”

I had no words. I looked back at the bodies. The way the deputy’s torso looked reminded me of how my daughter used to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I had found the thought ridiculous at the time.

They called off the search after that. I never accepted it. I packed a rucksack and a tent. I also took my old shotgun, a family heirloom. I was going to have my own search for her.

I started my journey at five in the morning on a Tuesday. No rhyme or reason to it. I stepped out into the backyard and stopped at the edge of the woods. I turned to look at the house one last time. “I’m not coming back until I have her,” I said to myself.

I stepped through the tree line, carefully stepping over branches as I trekked deeper and deeper into the woods. Around noon, I had reached a creek and situated myself next to an oak. I had brought cans of food, enough to last a month if accompanied with some foraging. My legs ached, but I didn’t plan on staying long. I popped open a can of spam and took a fork out the rucksack. I ate straight out the can. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Each can was small enough to fit a good bit of into the rucksack.

As I sat against the oak my eyes fell on the creek, watching the water carry a twig away. My mind searched through possibilities. She could have followed the creek. I thought. She’s a smart kid.

The other matter is trying to find out why she had entered the forest. She wasn’t the type to run off. Our property was so far from the road that it was unlikely anyone kidnapped her, unless they were living in the woods, which was just as unlikely.

As my frustration grew at the hopelessness of my situation, a thin reddish brown object floated down the creek towards me. I had been so lost in thought that I nearly missed it. I reached down, my fingers dipping into the cool water, and grabbed hold of it. It was tough woven cloth. I held it up to examine it. It was a dog collar, belonging to the dead deputy’s dog.

Bear attack always seemed unlikely to me. The biggest they got around here were black bears. I’d never heard of a black bear doing that to a man. There was no mauling, no scratching, just one or two clean bites.

My mind tried to deny the possibility, but the thought had become present in my head since I discovered those bodies. Whatever it was that did that to the deputy could have done that to Sarah.

I made a determination then to hunt the thing and cut it open. Only then could I be sure. I swallowed the horror of that realization, determining to unpack emotions when it laid dead and open in front of me. The worst news would still be better than not knowing.

My boots squished into the mud as I followed the creek. Any animal would need to stop for water eventually, and whatever it was must have held onto the collar and dropped it somewhere up ahead.

About a mile up stream, towards a bend that crossed under a fallen tree, I tripped on a branch. I fell down, catching myself with my hands as my palms slid across the smooth stones that lined the creek bed. My shirt and pants soaked in water. I felt it flow down my boots, soaking my socks.

I picked myself up and dusted the mud off as best as I could. The water didn’t feel terrible in the summer heat, but night would not be kind to me. I sighed and stepped out the creak. It was going to be dark in a few hours anyway. I set my rucksack down in a small clearing where I would set camp and make fire. I walked past a maple tree to grab some fallen branches.

As I picked up a nice thin branch covered in small twigs, good for getting a fire going, I nearly missed the swinging shadow at my feet. I looked up.

It was a swing. The ropes were dried deer intestines, and the seat was a ribcage, probably dear bones. It was absurdly large. It’s mocking me, I thought, not really sure what it was.

I held the terror down, suppressing any images of what it could be in the woods that took her, which I was certain at this point was what happened. It had to have been the same thing that killed the deputy.

The macabre swing rocked back and forth, sun glistening off the shiny pink ropes. Behind me a stick crunched. I dove into a bush laying next to the maple tree.

Light was dim coming through the brush, and a sharp point in one of the branches poked uncomfortably at my arm and neck. I peered through the leaves, one hand on the shotgun still slung around my shoulder.

Up a hill and around the maple tree a figure came into view. I had been expecting a monstrosity, something otherworldly. Instead, it was a man. He was dressed in black military gear, a mask covered his face. In his hands was an AR style rifle.

Behind him emerged another armed man in the same attire. He was holding my rucksack. “No sign of the civilian,” the first armed man said, “but I’d say that’s pretty clear evidence that she’s nearby.” He was looking in the direction of the gorey swing.

“It,” the second one corrected him. “Don’t humanize it. That’ll only make things harder.”

My body ached from the position I had to lay in, but I dared not move. The two men walked down the tiny slope next to the tree and towards the swing. As they passed the bush I hid in, something else came into view. A hand, maybe two feet long and a foot wide, rested on the ground next to the bush. The fingernails were blackened, overgrown, thick, and chipped. The skin was grey and torn, wrapped tightly over the muscle, bone, and cartilage beneath.

I held back a scream. I don’t know what I imagined I’d find after seeing that cruel mockery of a swing set. The type of creature that could leave something like that was beyond my knowledge. But in that moment, as I shivered and sweat inside the green leaves and thorny branches of the bush, I knew that the culprit was directly in front of me.

It crawled forward. The skin was equally grotesque on its arms. Then the top of its head came into view. It had long matted black hair. The skin was stretched so tight over its swollen deformed skull that it looked like it should rip from the pressure. I closed my eyes and waited for it to pass.

“Foooouuund yoouu,” it said in a childlike, singsong voice. My eyes shut tighter as my whole body shook.

“There it i—” the man’s voice cut short with a bloodcurdling crunch. The other man began to beg.

“Lacey, listen to me. We’re friends right? Don’t you want to go home?”

“I don’t want to,” the thing, Lacey, replied. “You’re all so mean to me there, but here I can play! I even have a friend now! Won’t you play with me?”

“…please…” the man was crying. I heard him scream and thrash, the sound getting more and more distant but never fading. I crawled out of the bush, readied the shotgun, took a few deep breaths, and followed the screams.

I trekked quickly over hills, around trees, and down steep drop offs. The sound of the man screaming became fainter. I couldn’t afford to let it get away. My pack was somewhere far behind me, so it was all or nothing now.

The screaming got more frantic. I noticed a trail of blood beginning next to a broken pointed branch. The sharp wood tip dripped crimson.

I came closer to the sound of the man’s terror and agony. I tripped on something long and squishy as I weeved between two thin trees. I looked down. It was a severed arm, presumably belonging to the man the creature was “playing” with.

I picked myself up. Ahead was a small clearing. It was in the middle, holding the man above the tall grass. It looked humanoid. The skin looked terribly stretched and ripped around its huge distorted body. It took a hold of the man’s remaining arm, and simply ripped it off. He screamed. It did the same thing to his eight leg.

“You aren’t as fun as a dandelion,” Lacey said, “but I can’t reach the petals on those without crushing the flower anymore. Isn’t that sad?”

“…just kill me…” the man begged through gritted teeth.

“In a minute. My friend is almost here.”

I took a deep breath and ducked into the tall grass. The sharp leaves lashed at my exposed forearms. I lost my sense of direction, and would have been totally losed had it not been for the constant whimpering of the man.

I must have been close, within ten feet or so, when a small puddle splashed under my boot.

“Hello?” Lacey said. “Sarah?”

It knew her name. Terror and rage filled me in equal measure. It knew her name! I rose, shotgun ready, aimed straight at its malformed head, and fired.

The smell of burnt gunpowder filled the air. It shrieked as it dropped the man and raised its hands to its face.

I racked another round, and fired again at its throat. Blood gushed out as it fell to its knees. I racked another round and fired again, then again, then again, until the tube was empty.

Lacey dropped dead on the ground. I took a knife out of my boot and cut down its belly. It was set up much like a human. All the anatomy was the same, just distorted. As the knife sliced through, puslike fluid poured out of it. I found the stomach and opened it. It was empty.

I fell backwards on to my rear, exhausted, lost. I looked over at the man, who looked to be on death’s door. My rage boiled out once more. I grabbed him by the collar and laid my fist into his cheek. “Where’s my daughter!?” I screamed spit flying onto his face. “Where is she?” The skin of my knuckle split against his tooth, but I didn’t stop.

He looked up in terror, but not at me. His gaze was focused just over my shoulder.

“Daddy?” said a familiar, yet distorted voice. I felt a cold elongated hand wrap around my torso and lift me into the air. It turned me around. I saw a monster just like the one I had gunned down, except its hair was brown, and its eyes were blue, and…

“Sarah?” I said, not fully comprehending the words that came out of my mouth.

“Hi, daddy!” It said back. My mind screamed at me. This couldn’t be her. She’s a nine year old girl not… but the realization was coming that Lacey was a child, probably Sarah’s age, before whatever happened turned her into… I killed a child…

“Daddy… I did something bad… I’m so sorry.”

“It…it’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“When I was waiting for you, Lacey saw me from the edge of the woods. I was kinda scared, but she’s around my age. She made me big and strong like her and told me the only people I was allowed to hurt were those guys in black because they’re bad guys but… I was so hungry. I ate mister police officer and his dog. I’m so sorry.” She began to cry.

“It’s okay… It’ll all be okay…” I was lying. It couldn’t possibly be okay. I couldn’t possibly bring her back from this.

“Did they hurt her?” She was looking at Lacey. “Is she…”

“Yes,” I said, answering the second question but hoping she’d hear it as an answer for both. All my bravery in looking for her amounted to nothing. I was a coward who couldn’t admit what I’d done. Sarah cried, tears running down the muscle fibres that ripped through the skin on her cheek. She took one massive grotesque hand and wiped her bulging eyes.

“She said that only kids can turn big and strong like this, but my daddy is the strongest. I bet you can take it just fine.”

Her jaw unhinged and rolled back until her chin was touching her chest. I could see straight down her throat. It was a blackened abyss. Something wriggled in the slimy wetness of her esophagus. It was maggot white, sliding across the reddened pink flesh. It sprang forth. It looked like a daschund sized grub. It had a round mouth with tiny shark like teeth.

I thrashed around, trying to break free. Sarah’s other hand patted my head as if to comfort me. A tube exited out of the grub’s mouth. I screamed. It entered my mouth, filling it with that same puslike liquid that had filled Lacey’s body. I gagged. The taste was indescribable.

She dropped me. I fell to my knees and vomited. My whole body shook and my skin burned, but nothing more than that.

“Oh no… It’s not working,” Sarah said as she began to cry again. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. I looked at the now dead military gear clad man and saw a pistol around his hip.

I knew what needed done, but it felt impossible. I unholstered the gun and put it up to her head. She still had her eye’s closed. I had to do this. I had to make it clean, for her.

“It’s okay. I love you Sarah.” I pulled the trigger.

After a while of sitting next to my daughter’s body, feeling an emptiness that can’t be put into words, I checked over the body of the man. He had dog tags. He was military. My mind went back to the government pharmaceutical plant on the outside of town.

I needed to record this here, because I’m about to take a one way trip and need the world to know. I’ve gotten a rash since the day my daughter died and the nausea is getting worse. I’m taking my shotgun and going down to that plant. I don’t expect to get far, but I need to do this.

This will probably be the last anyone hears from me. They’ll say a mentally ill man tried to break into a government facility. All you who read this will know the truth.

Fathers, hug your children. You never know when it will be the last time.