The Singing in Pilot Mountain
When i was 13 years old I lived in Pilot Mountain. I lived in an older white house with a large gathering of trees behind the property. It all went slightly downhill and kept going down. Walking through the trees, even in a straight line, it would take 40 minutes to reach the other side. On the other side of the trees was a small pond. Nothing else. Inside the woods are ruined tobacco barns. Trashed cars and garbage. Tires everywhere. A small ravine with a creek at the bottom. And something else. My brother could hear it too. There was singing.
I lived in Pilot Mountain for 3 years. Every night, in winter or summer, there was a droning whistle. Always distant and faint. My mother told me with the way the house was built, the air hit it just right to always make that sound. But it was too far to be the house. She said the sound came from the gutters, but it sounded like it was coming from 20 yards further. Out by the trees. Id walk through the woods often. Whenever i was there, i could still hear it. But it was always too far for me to follow. I wouldn't even know which direction to go.
When the short timeline of events that got me to write this started, it was October 28th, 2016. My mother had set up a large Halloween party in our backyard for me and my brother to invite all our friends to. He invited over 40 people and they all came. The idea of just free snacks and drinks, along with a scary movie and everyone in costumes must've sounded great to them. I tried to keep it more close and invite only a few of my friends from my high school. They must have been busy or had other plans though because none of them came. Felt sad about it but i wasn't going to let it ruin my night. It was the year that all those clown sightings popped up on Youtube and if you lived in my state, you knew that was where it happened the most.
Despite just having had my own terrifying run in with one of these clowns, I chose to dress as one. It was a black and white clown and I had a mask with a moving mouth and red highlights. I chose to go into the woods at night, as the spooky music playing on loudspeakers and general feeling of the evening would make it scarier. I pushed my way through the small open branches and headed downhill. On both sides where the trees went further down, there were small hills actually going up, but they were somewhat steep and hard to climb. My brother and I had been up there before and there was nothing but a flat top of leaves and dead trees anyway. Walking forward is where all the cool abandoned buildings were. So I just kept forward.
I had on cheap sneakers and a big one piece clown suit with only my underwear underneath. It was a little chilly for late October but I felt I would be fine. I carried my clown mask in one hand as I wouldn't be able to see too well through the trees with it on. It was already dark but I was very familiar with these woods by now so i was comfortable walking through them with very little light. I walked for 5 minutes and listened to the scary music fade behind me, growing ever further. I was so focused on listening that I didn't see what was right in front of me. Before I came back from spacing out, I had already stumbled into a small puddle. It would generally not even be worth mentioning but i had sneakers and barely any clothes on. The puddle was freezing and almost 6 inches deep. I decided that was enough and turned around to walk back home. The trees were not the same. There was no music. There was no passing Tobacco barn or pile of tires or anything.
I didn't instantly panic. I turned back around. I didn't recognize the woods behind me but I did know where I was going when looking forward. Even if it is a long walk and I got colder, when you exit the other side of the woods there is a long road that leads back home. But when I turned back it was the same. I didn't recognize these trees. There was nothing distinct. I was lost. I began to just walk. My parents always told me to stay in place if I ever get lost anywhere but I wasn't going to stay in the cold and get even colder. Might've just been paranoid but I was worried my foot might even get frostbite. I kept moving along until I heard something. A sort of dark ambient choir like my mom was playing from the speakers at the party. I went towards the music and it got louder. Till I saw something down by the base of some trees. And the music stopped. Barely visible within the faint glow from the moon, only between a few branches above, was a Coyote. Sitting and looking towards me. I could hardly make it's shape out but the reflection of its eyes showed where it was. And those eyes began to rise up. High above the ground. Even above me. It all started again. The music started to play. It was singing.
As I turned to run, for only a second before I was turned all the way around, i could see what looked like small hands attached to somewhat but not abnormally long arms raise up from the coyotes sides. It was totally uneven. But i didn't give it a second glance. I began to run in a single direction as I knew these woods didn't go on for that long. Eventually they ended and I would find a road. Needless to say i was terrified as I ran. I could hear the singing behind me. Though i knew the thing was chasing me, i noticed there was no shake in its voice. If something ran and sang at the same time, its voice would shake and faulter. But the singing was perfectly in tune. And i heard it growing ever closer. Barely 10 feet back.
It was so dark i could hardly see, and the cold air against my face made my eyes tear up and cause my vision to go blurry. I flew over branches and between trees. The light of the moon barely shining off of them enough for me to know when to leap. I heard the crunch of the leaves below me but as i listened, i realized i didn't hear it. I heard the thing singing, but there was no running. Its feet made no sound despite being so close. Ahead of me were so many crowded trees and branches that i wondered how it could even chase me if it was as large as i saw. Moronically, i turned my head over my shoulder as i ran. I couldn't see where its legs were as they were covered in the darkness of the night but i saw quick glimpses of its body through the branches above. I don't know how to perfectly explain it but the shape of its body was like an arrow pointing upwards. Its arms out at a downward diagonal angle and what must have been it's body, straight upward and unmoving, towering above me. Where i had previously seen branches all around me, i turned where it ran and there were none. As if the forest had moved around the thing itself and made way.
My feet were beyond numb and freezing at this point from getting wet before, and as I grew tired of running, i grew more afraid. I felt ready to cry almost from instinct, but i just wasn't ready to curl up and die yet. I had been running for maybe 8 minutes. I could clear a mile faster than most other kids in my class. If the trees ended, it would be sooner rather than later. Through my fear this was the motivation i needed. But as if the thing heard my thoughts, it did its best to make me scared again. There were now foot steps. But not running. Not through leaves and dirt. It was the sound of something like bare wet feet walking on tile, somehow sped up. I can't perfectly explain it but it was not running. It just sounded like rapid walking. There was a lightness to the foot steps despite how fast they were. I nearly tripped when i heard this, as the revealing shock of it all scared me so much. But i quickly regained my footing and kept running.
I was tired. At this point i was wheezing through my mouth loudly. If the thing had any understanding of a person being worn out, it knew i was at my limit. And just then, up ahead, maybe 100 yards away. I saw a car pass. The road was just ahead. I knew it. I pushed myself even faster, the singing growing louder. The things voice was not screaming. It just became louder. I was hardly running anymore. With each step i was more jumping forward. Until before i knew it, after i leapt one more time, my body pushed through the wet pine branches and i fell against the asphalt. I skinned up my arms and my side but i had to get back up. Just because i was on a road didn't mean i was safe. I stood to try and run again before i realized the singing had stopped. I stood panting like a dog, staring into the tree line. It wasn't empty. There at eyelevel, i could see the twinkling eyes of the coyote. Its body and face hidden. Only the reflection of its eye gazing forward. As if it was being pulled away, i saw the reflections disappear back into the trees. I was afraid. Very much so. But i felt safe. I knew i had gotten away. But i knew this wasn't the end of it.
Everyone always sees the character escape their horror in the movie, but no one asks what happens to them afterward. The police reports and the worried family members. People who are annoyed from having searched for you. They were so worried before, just to almost seem upset that you've showed up in one piece now. It took nearly an hour to walk back home, following the road. I had come out of a different forest than the one behind our house. I was 2 miles away. When i got home, the party had long since ended, and my mother and father were in the house on the couch waiting with police officers. I walked inside, covered in mud and shivering. That's how they described me anyway. I didn't remember being cold. I felt tired. The police asked me what happened and i lied. I got lost. I was a freshman obsessed with horror media. I wasn't going to tell them i was running from something that looked like a long coyote. Eventually the left and my mother let me go to bed. I was disgusting from running, but i was too tired to take a shower. I would have probably passed out. I needed rest. Tomorrow would be different.
My parents knew the kind of kid I was. They knew they could trust me. Though the previous night had everyone worried, they knew that since I was safe that I would stay home. I wouldn't run off again if just for the sake of not making them worry. I wasn't going back to the woods. I needed a plan. We most likely would live here for years to come. And I will not spend years hiding from a monster. As soon as my parents left to run some errands I jumped to action. I had been thinking about what I would do all morning. Since we lived far out in the country, I knew it would take them a while before they got back. I filled my backpack with dry food like chips and crackers. I had a bottle of water and a camping flare gun in there too. I had stolen it from a boy scouts trip I took the prior summer. I didn't normally steal but I knew I would need it more than they would. They probably would have just shown us how it works for fun anyway. I knew there was one last thing. I needed my dads rifle.
Despite living in the mountains of the US, we were not a big gun family. But years before, my father showed me he still had grandpas hunting rifle. I had wanted to see it again before but never found it. So I guessed it had to be in the crawlspace under the house where the rest of our antiques and heirlooms were kept. I went outside and opened the metal door beside our back porch steps. It was the only way inside. The metal door hung from the top so it would naturally stay shut. Standing on the outside of the house, you had to pull the door towards you to open it. It was barely big enough to crawl though, but comfortable for a short skinny kid like me. I went inside and the door shut behind me with no way to keep it open. It was dark but i expected this, turning on a cheap flashlight that I had also gotten from Boy Scouts. Even for an adult, the space under the house was large enough that you could comfortably move while crouched. I scanned the crawl space with the dim light before I saw it in the furthest corner. A large red tote.
It was a longer but still average height skinny tote. Just about the biggest thing you could fit down here. I put the flashlight in my mouth and popped the lid off. Dust hit the underside of the floorboards above me, settling soon as i saw what was inside. Baseballs, Gloves, small unmarked boxes covered in old packing tape. They probably held photos or jewelry. But on top was what I needed. My grandpas rifle. It was clearly old and creaked when you tried to pull back the bolt but it worked fine. I knew underneath these boxes of photos was a metal ammo box. It was a .22 hunting rifle. For small game and recreation when camping mostly. But id rather take any gun than my BB one. I pushed my arm through the boxes and the sound of old cardboard and files rustled. I was focused on sound and touch and i was trying to listen for a loud clunk or the scrape of rusty metal against my hand. In my focus i heard something else. The rustling of tarp.
The crawlspace was very clean and well organized. It wasn't filled with cobwebs and mud. We had tarps on the floor. And i could hear it moving. Like someone on their hands and knees crawling around. I yanked my hands out of the tote and turned as fast as i could, but whipping my head so fast, I forgot the flashlight was in my mouth. I let go of it with my teeth and as soon as it hit the ground, the light went off. It was a cheap flashlight so of course dropping it shook something loose. I blindly grasped for the flashlight in the dark while hearing something still move on the tarp. But whatever was making the sound wasn't moving specifically toward me. It sounded as if it was just moving all around. Like a lost animal. I eventually felt the cold metallic grip of what i thought was my flashlight, but as I pulled it towards me i realized it was the rifle. Even if it wasn't loaded, it was large and blunt so I kept it with me. I decided to just crawl to the hatch as fast as I could, but as I thought that and began to crawl forward, it opened.
The hatch was being held open. I saw no feet. I saw no hands. No shadow from anyone was cast into the crawlspace. And from where the sun was at the time of day and how cloudy it was, it barely even gave me any light. I stopped in place. I had heard something in the crawlspace with me. Something held the hatch up in place. I was trapped. My breath began to shake and my throat got tight like I was going to cry. I hated that. Even if I didn't feel the need to cry, it always seemed to happen on it's own. My natural tears angered me, and I remembered I was holding a rifle. I was armed and I could fight back if I had to. I scooted slightly back and while keeping eye contact with the open hatch, with one hand I continued to rummage through the tote for the ammo box. Maybe it was only 30 seconds or it was a full five minutes, but I soon felt the cold rust against my hand. I pulled it out while still watching the hatch and opened the box.
I looked down for only a second to load the bullets into the gun, before the sound of crawling stopped and i could see the light from the hatch in my peripherals change. I distinctly heard on my left at the other end of the crawlspace where the movement was, a young human voice around my age say my name.
"Gabriel."
Just as I had loaded the rifle i looked to my left to see illuminated by the light of the hatch, the head of a coyote on a naked girl. The coyotes face was neutral and its eyes wide and penetrating. The body was on its feet with its knees against its chest. Very dark skin. All of this I saw in only a second before the hatch shut and it was dark again.
When the hatch shut, the sound of it closing was loud and it echoed throughout beneath the house. My ears rang for a second before I realized i now heard the crawling again. Faster and coming towards me. Lots of crawling. I only had one bullet but I still had to shoot. I snapped the rifle forward as fast as i could and fired. The muzzle flash illuminated the crawlspace for a mere millisecond. I saw the coyote head girl. There were so many of them. All sitting on their knees with the small human hands on their laps, looking at me. Their coyote eyes wide and their mouths were too. Their teeth glistened and their eyes shined from the gunshot. Before my ears even processed the gunshot, it's as if as soon as I fired, the sound was cut off by a loud haunting harmonious scream. All of the coyote head girls were holding one loud note that sounded like screaming, but after I had fired, none of them went down. I saw no blood and I heard no pain. Just screaming. As soon as I fired the rifle, I threw my body at the hatch. I slammed straight through it and fell out of the other side, not even scraping my ankles against the wall on the way out.
I got to my feet and ran to the front yard just as my parents pulled into the driveway. My father had forgotten his wallet. They stopped the car and ran to me as soon as they saw me, asking what was wrong. I was terrified. It had only been seconds since I had seen the monsters, but I knew they would not believe me. Through tears I still hated, I told my mom I wanted to see grandpas rifle and I thought I saw a coyote. Soon enough my dad came back holding the rifle, looking concerned. He pulled the bolt back and the shell flew out. I asked if he saw the coyote and he said there was nothing in there. I was not a child that often lied so despite a firm talking to about safety and guns, they assured me I was not in trouble. If I told them I thought I saw a coyote then they believed me. I knew I could never tell them. They never heard the singing. And they never saw the monster. That was all I was preparing for. One monster. But there were at least 10. I didn't know how I would fight 10 of those. I needed to calm down and get ready for them again. Because I knew they wouldn't wait for me. For a week I did almost nothing. And every night I heard them sing again.
It was November 7th, 2016. I was sick with a cold and home alone. The woods sang and sang and nothing could drown them out. I was tired and angry, and snow had covered the ground the night before. I put on my coat and boots. I was only wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt but I didn't care at the time. I put a scarf over my nose and my backpack over my shoulder. Still packed from a week before. I went out back, trudging through the snow. It was powder and only a few inches high. I opened the metal hatch to the crawlspace and went inside. I grabbed the gun and loaded it, I walked out with the rifle in one hand and the ammo box in the other. I was an idiot leaving without a plan, but my anger overshadowed my fear and rational thought. I was so afraid. But more so I couldn't bear the thought of hearing the singing for years to come. Maybe even the rest of my life. I would not let them get my brother before me. I would not let that happen. I would not. And that's all i kept saying as i pushed through the opening in the trees.
I walked towards the singing, marching through the snow. My determination outweighed my hesitation and with every step I felt worse. I hated it here. This house. And now I had to defend it. As I descended the freshly snow covered hill, I realized the singing was not ahead. It was to my right. Uphill where me and my brother never went. I ascended the hill and before long had to crawl with my hands in the snow to reach the top. The snow may have been only powder but it was slippery none the less. In my haste I had not put on gloves and my fingers began to sting. I had walked for only a few minutes and wanted to stop. But I knew i may not feel so ready to face the danger again. My eyes welled up in pain and the cold air bit at my tears. I continued upward before reaching the end of the steep slope. Ahead were the naked trunks of trees, all far from one another. Enough space to fit cars between them. And as far ahead as I could see, a blanket of flat snow.
I marched ahead with the ice cold metal in both of my hands, hearing them sing. As i walked, short of breath, I listened to the singing. It was calm. It was always so full of life and energy, as if it was meant to drive me and my younger brother mad. But it was calm. It felt like whatever was singing did so because it wanted to. I liked it. But part me wondered if it was somehow a trap to lure me forward. To believe i didn't want to fight the monsters. I kept heading towards the music before eventually i found something new. I almost fell in. A small round hole in the ground, maybe only a foot deep and 30 feet all around. Somehow I had not seen it before. In the center of the circle, all in an even circle and looking up to the sky, were 14 coyotes. No human bodies or long arms. The were just coyotes. The singing was as loud as it could be. It must have been them. But their mouths did not move. They did not move. I dropped the ammo box in the snow and the sound stopped their stoicism. The singing stopped and they all looked at me. No expression in their face. I raised the rifle.
They only looked at me. None of them moved. I stood there with my hands shaking from the cold before i realized the shaking was from hesitation. I didn't want to shoot any of them. I began to cry while holding the gun at my shoulder. I hated crying. I felt so weak. I just started shouting at them.
"Why don't you just stop singing?! Just stop! Why won't you leave me alone?! Leave us all alone!"
My eyes were blurred and i was coughing between each word by now. I was still holding the rifle to my shoulder but I had practically gone limp in my arms by now. I didn't have the strength to pull the trigger even if I wanted. 13 of the coyotes slowly got up and trotted off in the other direction, jumping out of the hole and walking off into the tree line in the distance. I sat in the snow sniffling and wiping my face with my snow covered coat sleeves. I tried to calm myself as one coyote in the circle still stared at me. It walked toward me and leapt out of the circle. It walked behind me and I did not turn my head. I could hear as the sound of 4 paws turned to two feet.
I don't know if I had given up on trying to do anything or if I thought I was safe, but when I heard this, I didn't even turn my head. The walking was slow and circled behind me before it stopped. And an old quiet woman's voice filled the air.
"Because this is our home. And it always has been."
Her accent was somehow too American. As if it was just a very good impression instead of her actual voice. It sounded artificial and plain. Through my short breaths i tried to say back.
"It's my home too." still not looking behind me.
"You live here. This is not your home." She said.
I sat in silence for a moment before only asking one question.
"Has anyone come to kill you before me?"
And she only said "Once. But that was long ago." Before I heard the sound of paws run away.
I turned and didn't see the coyote. Nor tracks in the snow. But there behind me was an old rusted knife covered with electrical tape. It was dull and the handle seemed broken, held together only by the tape. It was very old.
I am 22 years old now. 3 years ago I was diagnosed with a low functioning form of paranoid schizophrenia. I had always thought about that day and with this diagnosis, I was almost relieved in some way. I never had an answer for it. But I just moved in with my friend in Alabama. And unpacking all my stuff, in a box full of my mothers belongings, I found the knife. Dull with tape and a broken handle. My friend can see it. My family can see it. My brother can see it. And when I asked if he remembered the singing in Pilot Mountain, he said yes. He never forgot. He says he hasn't heard it since. But sometimes I think I do. I'm not sure of anything anymore. And sometimes at night, without snow and nowhere near any forest, I still think I hear the singing. Distant and outside our house. Its calm.
