Nestled deep in the misty Appalachian Mountains, the town of Gable Hollow was a quiet place where the biggest concerns were the occasional black bear and the relentless autumn chill. But as the leaves fell, exposing skeletal branches that clawed at the moonlit sky, whispers of a forgotten terror began to stir.
It all started with the screams. Bloodcurdling cries tore through the midnight air, chilling the bones of anyone unlucky enough to hear them. These weren’t human, nor animal—they were guttural, layered, almost... sentient. The townsfolk muttered about the Crytherion, an ancient cryptid said to mimic the dying calls of its victims, luring others into the dense forest never to return.
Teenager Alex, a budding cryptozoologist, couldn’t resist investigating. Armed with a flashlight, a voice recorder, and a notebook, Alex trekked into the woods, following the unnerving echoes. But as the howls grew louder, they splintered into distinct, overlapping tones—some sounded human, others inhuman, a macabre symphony weaving through the trees.
Alex stumbled upon a clearing, the forest floor covered in strange symbols etched into the earth. There, suspended in the cold glow of the moonlight, stood a hulking figure cloaked in shadows. It was tall and gaunt, with limbs too long and joints that bent unnaturally. Its head resembled a deer’s skull, crowned with antlers draped in moss and sinew. Its eyes—if they could be called that—glowed with an otherworldly green hue, and its skeletal grin stretched unnervingly wide.
It wasn’t alone.
From the treeline emerged others: a Mothman-like creature, wings twitching and eyes burning red; a Skinwalker, shifting forms in a nauseating blur; and the legendary Wampus Cat, its six eyes glinting like fire. Each cryptid seemed tethered to the clearing, circling the skeletal giant like cursed satellites.
Alex was frozen, the forest silent save for the hum of cicadas. Then the Crytherion spoke—not with words, but with mimicry. It replicated Alex’s own voice, distorted and eerie:
“Why did you come here?”
The young cryptozoologist backed away, but the ground beneath gave way, plunging into a pit hidden by leaves. Alex landed hard, surrounded by bones—human bones. Above, the cryptids stared down, their faces twisting into grotesque grins. The Crytherion leaned close, its bony hand reaching into the pit.
“You’ve found us. Now join us.”
The last thing Alex saw was the glowing green of its eyes, and the last sound was their own screams, stolen and echoed back at them by the Crytherion.
The next morning, Gable Hollow was silent. No screams, no whispers—just a town that had forgotten yet another curious soul. The forest grew quieter, and the legends carried on, feeding off those who dared to listen.
Some say if you stand at the edge of the woods on a moonless night, you can hear Alex’s voice, calling for help, trapped forever in the dark heart of the forgotten beasts.