Chapter 1: Into the Woods
My story may not be believable to some people; it's not supposed to be anything but true. My journey to Blackwood Pines was an eventful one, but also terrifying. From a young age, I had been enthralled with the supernatural, always willing to learn about the many creatures that existed through the beliefs of cultures and their people. So when I found the chance to travel to this place, I was excited beyond function. The Wendigos had been a long time obsession of mine; I wanted to know what exactly made them tick. I travelled alone, a personal event had meant that I would go solo, to Blackwood Pines after interviewing a few people. You may have heard of them as the seven teenagers that narrowly escaped death and these monsters. They were willing to share their stories with me, so I was ready for my exhibition. I would find more about the Wendigos in Blackwood County and bring them back for a exhibit about them, equipped with an article about my journey. However, you readers would receive a story of disbelief, horror and love, and the aftermath of the Wendigos and the outcome that would be Joshua Washington, one of the bravest men I've ever known; he survived his own imagination to tell his tale in his own way. Although his friends would not forgive him easily for the trauma he began, they have and still are by his side to his day, helping him through his episodes and his journey to recovery. He is still my friend, he was the one to save me even on the brink of falling into madness.
To understand, I will tell you the story of the Butterfly Effect; from the very beginning to the very end.
- Indigo McMatthews, April 2016.
She. Was. Tired.
The trek up to the cabin she had rented was long and torturous, her backpack full of equipment; extra blankets, clothes, food, batteries and a flashlight weighed her down as she walked, using the wooden railing to help her climb the steps up to her home for the next month or so. When she had discovered that there was a cabin to rent in Blackwood County near her investigation site, she had immediately called up the owner and had offered a large amount of money to have the place, with the promise that it would be only her and nothing would be missing when she left. She had agreed and had picked up the keys a week later, with a letter telling her that the cabin had been stocked with enough food to last a year and some essentials. He even gave the cabin to her for free when she had told him that she would be in Blackwood Pines for her University project, not to host any parties or for a honeymoon.
The views and surrounding area would have been perfect for a honeymoon; if she had gotten the chance to experience one before she found out her former fiancée Dean had been sleeping around with her ex-partner on the article since they had met. She remembered screaming, throwing things then going home to cry and nurse herself back to her sassy self with fluffy pajamas, ice cream and sad movies. Two months later she would be in the woods, actually crying with pain as she pulled herself up to the wooden cabin.
Her muscles screamed for rest as she finally made it onto the porch, the snow that had clung to her boots falling off as she stamped to clean them. All she wanted to do now is sleep, but she knew that once she got inside and settled in she would have to go out again; only at night, she had been warned, would she find her answers.
It had been five months since the traumatized group of nineteen year olds had been rushed to the hospital, air lifted back to the city after a night in hell. The newspapers and TV covered the story of the seven teenagers that had expected to go for a few days of mourning but instead had been pulled into a night of torture inflicted by their own friend; Josh Washington, the son of the movie director and Hollywood mogul, Bob Washington. It had gotten out that Josh had been seeing a Psychiatrist, Dr Alan Hill, who, when she had met him for an interview, reminded her of Peter Stormare.
He had informed her that if she found him, alive, that she had to be cautious around him. He had even entrusted her with a copy of Josh's report over the years on his condition. She had it safely in her backpack for an extra reading, just in case she had found the boy. She hadn't read it yet, since she didn't want to intrude on his privacy, but when it came to that she would be ready. Unlocking the door with the key, she walked inside, shrugging the backpack of her back and closing the door behind her, taking the time to look around the cabin. It was huge; with a 'few bedrooms and bathrooms, and it's own cinema room' she had been informed. She began to start a fire in the fireplace to warm up the room before sitting down on the sofa, rummaging through her backpack for a quick snack before she left again.
Who knew that Indigo McMatthews, a girl who had dedicated her life to the supernatural, was sitting alone in a cabin researching the Wendigos? Certainly not eight year old her, when she had discovered that such creatures existed. She had gotten a thrill from typing in 'Wendigos' on Microsoft Word only for the little red-squiggle to pop up and inform her that no such word existed in their dictionary, except for the word and name 'Indigo'. She had laughed every time.
Her mind went from her happy childhood to Josh Washington; the 'Psycho', as Ashley had told her. He had lost both of his sisters, his mind, his reason to live...and they had left him. Left him for the Wendigo-his sister-with not even a thought of trying to save him. Chris, his best friend, and Sam, both who she had interviewed were the only ones to plead to go back to him with the police, but they had been forced to the hospital without any support from the rest of their friends, although Matt did try and help them return to Blackwood with little success. Josh didn't deserve anything he had received from both his friends and his imagination, but alas, there was nothing she could do to help until she found him alive. If she found him alive.
"Okay..." she mumbled, pulling out her camera, her pen and notebook before placing the camera around her neck. Evidence was the best way to capture the impossible, she had always said, so when she had discovered the thing to make her articles believable, she had immediately bought a functioning camera from a yard sale and had began using it for the articles she wrote for the school paper. That camera was still with her to this day, the one around her neck, of course. She had been waiting for this day to take pictures of the mystery of the Wendigos, and what person would she be if she didn't take it with her best friend?
She tightened her scarf around her before trudging to the door, checking she was wrapped up enough to trek outside all night. Her body warmer, her gloves, her jeans tight enough to keep the warmth inside, her beanie and her puffy coat over her body warmer. 'She was warm enough', she thought as she unlocked the door and re-stepped outside, locking the door after her and walking to the stairs. 'Well, the journey down these stairs would be less tiring then climbing back up them' she thought.
The climb down the stairs were fast, as she had basically ran down them, her camera banging against her chest as she hopped down. When she reached the bottom she pulled out her phone, turning the light on so she could see the path in front of her. "Okay, the map said that the mine was near the Washington lodge, which is South in this direction. God, I should have brought my own fucking map." she muttered, trudging through the snow and into the woods.
From a young age she had been frightened of the woods, any cluster of trees made her run away, so this was a milestone for her not to scream and leg it out of there. The stories of Slenderman made her fear even worse, even when her mother tried to persuade her that it was just a story she always had a funny feeling in her stomach that something about the legends of these creatures were real.
She turned, her phone's light shining into the darkness. She had definitely heard an animal or someone else behind her, what would explain that snap of a branch? "Hello?" she called. 'What a stupid move, Indigo', she thought, 'It's not like it's going to answer you'. She turned back the way she had been walking and continued, silent except for the hoots of owls, the only thing that kept her company.
A growl sounded from behind her which made her freeze, hearing footsteps coming towards her. That was not a bear, or a wolf-Grrrrrr. Air breathed against her neck and she looked down at her phone at her reflection, and her whole body seized up when she saw the hideous sight behind her. It's skin was taunt against it's body; exhibiting spinal disfiguration which gave it a hunchbacked appearance. It's teeth were sharp and disfigured; limbs longer then branches, and it's head stripped of hair. It's eyes were grey, giving it a blind look, and from the way it was looking around it somehow did not see her. Chris did tell her that they sensed movement, and that you had to stand very still until it went away. It growled again, and she bit her lip, keeping in her whimper. She didn't want to die, she had just arrived!
A roar erupted through the silence and she was flung aside, hitting a tree hard. She opened her eyes to stare at the scene before her; another Wendigo had appeared, but this one had shredded clothes clinging onto his body. He fought with the Wendigo, screeching as they tore into one another. Indigo watched in horror as the Wendigo who had tackled the other ripped of his head with a roar of victory. His face was different from the others, his was-human.
His face was pale, and his eyes were large like his eyelids had been removed, or he was born without them. Except for the cut on his face and the dirt, he would have looked quite ordinary; until you saw his mouth, which looked normal on the right, but the left was hideous, it stretched along his face making his flesh and bone visible, and his teeth were long and sharp, ready to tear into anything. He turned her head in the direction of her small gasp, and he just stared. Stared at the woman, who was in a state of shock at the monster in front of her that she didn't notice him walking towards her.
She blinked, and when she saw him move in her direction adrenaline she through her. 'Run!' her brain screamed. She pulled herself up and without a second thought, ran. Ran through the trees, jumping over logs, pushing branches out of the way as she headed deeper into the forest. She could hear him running after her, roaring into the night. She didn't-couldn't-stop, she didn't want to die. She didn't want to be decapitated and left to rot in the dirt.
What direction was the cabin again? Oh god she was going to die! A very heavy body crashed into her, making her fall onto her front and into the snow, immediately making the warmth disappear and be replaced with bitter cold. She whimpered when she felt the breathe of the monster against the back of her neck, and the sharp teeth brush against her earlobe. It's mouth opened; 'Help...me...'
Her eyes widened at the human voice. Human. From what Mike told her; the Wendigos were all 80 years old at least and didn't have any humanity left, but this Wendigo spoke fluent English and looked like-"Joshua?" she whispered.
The Wendigo-no, Joshua-grunted and something wet licked her ear. Was that his tongue? Probably tasting his next meal, shaking and terrified for her life. Another growl came from the trees and he looked up, a growl of his own tearing from his lips. He removed himself from on top of her and glared into the darkness; with a look of certainty he turned his head to look down at the woman who began pushing herself up;
Chapter 2: Author's Note, I Guess?
Don't worry; I am working on the long overdue chapter to Butterfly Effect as we speak!
But, why was I gone for nearly a year?
Well, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety in March last year (after so many years of knowing that I suffered from these) and I literally cannot do anything.
Apparently to my psychiatrist, the test I did which helped diagnose me was too high for someone of my age and she literally told me that 'she was surprised that I hadn't killed myself earlier'.
So currently I am being looked after by my family, and I feel really guilty about it. It was my sister who showed me this site called ko-fi, and long story short; it allows (my people? readers? Yeah, readers) to show their support to me by donating 'coffees'.
What are coffees?
Well, you donate a coffee!
1 coffee x £3.
2 coffees x £6.
3 coffees x £9.
You get the idea.
The money you donate basically helps me provide my own necessities so my family can stop using their own money to look after me. Also, it shows your support!
Here's the link: https://ko-fi.com/theisolatedshadow
And look out for the next chapter of Butterfly Effect soon! Followed by a oneshot in the Infiltration series, Every Passing Second and then Bathing Bird! Or something in that order, but Butterfly Effect is next!