# Every Twenty Years, The Faceless Ones Come out Creepypasta

An episode of [CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1492008134), 26 May 2025, 43 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/66279915/every_twenty_years_the_faceless_ones_come_out_creepypasta.mp3

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Frequent-Cat: / every_twenty_years_the_faceless_ones_come_out Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO- SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd... iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast... SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS- ►"Good Places to Start"- • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep web" ... ►"Personal Favourites"- • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher, and... ►"Written by me"- • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creepypasta ►"Long Stories"- • Long Stories FOLLOW ME ON- ►Twitter: / creeps_mcpasta ►Instagram: / creepsmcpasta ►Twitch: / creepsmcpasta ►Facebook: / creepsmcpasta CREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪ ►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪ ►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪ ►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪ This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only

## Transcript

[0:02] Speaker 1: I've been contracted by the Bureau a dozen times in
[0:04] Speaker 1: the last four years, mostly sinkhole reports or rural spill assessments,
[0:10] Speaker 1: the kind of work no one notices until it costs
[0:13] Speaker 1: someone money. This one came through late in the season,
[0:19] Speaker 1: an old mine outside a place called Evercreek, tucked in
[0:22] Speaker 1: a valley that didn't show up on GPS until we
[0:26] Speaker 1: were nearly there. The brief was minimal, a collapse shaft
[0:31] Speaker 1: from the nineteen thirties reportedly sealed after seventeen fatalities. The
[0:36] Speaker 1: town's records were inconsistent, and what little had been digitized
[0:40] Speaker 1: didn't match the states. Our job was to assess any
[0:45] Speaker 1: remaining liability, test for subsistence, and determine if the land
[0:49] Speaker 1: could be safely reclassified for timberalese in and out. No
[0:55] Speaker 1: contact needed with the townsfolk beyond a courtesy heads up.
[1:00] Speaker 1: We hit the edge of town around noon. October had
[1:04] Speaker 1: already stripped most of the trees, and the wind blew
[1:07] Speaker 1: low through the bare branches in irregular pulses, the way
[1:11] Speaker 1: wind does when the landscape feels hollow. Fog clung to
[1:15] Speaker 1: the roots of the hills, moving only when we did.
[1:21] Speaker 1: Evercreek was smaller than I expected. A gas station, a diner,
[1:26] Speaker 1: a short main road that curved lazily around the church
[1:29] Speaker 1: and disappeared back into the trees. Maybe three hundred people
[1:34] Speaker 1: if that. Some looked up when we passed, but no
[1:38] Speaker 1: one waved. No one asked what brought us. They just watched, silent,
[1:45] Speaker 1: still returning to their tasks. Only when our car moved on.
[1:51] Speaker 1: We checked into the motel, four rooms flat. Gravel lot
[1:56] Speaker 1: rushed around the fixtures. The woman at the front desk
[2:00] Speaker 1: handed me the key without asking my name. There was
[2:03] Speaker 1: a small guest book by the window, but the last
[2:06] Speaker 1: signature was dated two weeks ago. My prentice Seth took
[2:12] Speaker 1: the room next to mine. After dropping our bags, we
[2:17] Speaker 1: drove the half mile to the mine site. The axis
[2:20] Speaker 1: road had been overgrown with vines and thistle, but the
[2:24] Speaker 1: path was still clear enough to follow on foot. Old
[2:27] Speaker 1: warning signs hung loose from metal rods, faded to near illegibility.
[2:33] Speaker 1: A half ratted vent surrounded the mouth of the mine,
[2:36] Speaker 1: with caution tape haphazardly fluttering from rusted stakes. We walked
[2:41] Speaker 1: to the perimeter, marking our potential weak points in the
[2:45] Speaker 1: soil and flagging erosion spots. The ground was mostly stable,
[2:50] Speaker 1: though I noted a shallow depression near the north side
[2:53] Speaker 1: that looked fresh. I was jotting notes when Seth called
[2:58] Speaker 1: me over. Just outside the broken section of the fence
[3:03] Speaker 1: was a bundle he looked deliberately placed, not dropped or
[3:08] Speaker 1: blown in, a small scuffed baby shoe, a hand mirror
[3:13] Speaker 1: with a crack, spider webbing out from one corner, and
[3:16] Speaker 1: a velvet pouch, its straw string rotted. Seth opened it.
[3:22] Speaker 1: Inside was a single child's tooth, browned with age. He
[3:28] Speaker 1: turned to me with a half smile. Guess Halloween start
[3:32] Speaker 1: early out here. I shrugged, reached for a nitrial glove
[3:37] Speaker 1: for my kit, and bagged the items, probably old memorials.
[3:41] Speaker 1: I figured maybe a local tradition or just some grief
[3:45] Speaker 1: left a wither out in the open. Either way, when
[3:49] Speaker 1: he couldn't leave it there, wild life might get to it,
[3:53] Speaker 1: and there was no reason to let someone find it
[3:56] Speaker 1: and think it meant anything now. Seth made a face
[4:00] Speaker 1: as he watched me seal the bag, but didn't say anything.
[4:04] Speaker 1: I made a note to include it under potential public
[4:07] Speaker 1: safety debris. I'd seen weirder things back in the car.
[4:13] Speaker 1: We loaded the first round of soil data, and logged
[4:16] Speaker 1: the day's findings. The mine wasn't visibly unstable, but the
[4:21] Speaker 1: fence needed replacing, and we'd have to get a look
[4:24] Speaker 1: at the shaft itself if we wanted to close the
[4:27] Speaker 1: file properly. I figured we'd head in tomorrow and get
[4:31] Speaker 1: the rest of it done in daylight. Two more days
[4:35] Speaker 1: of work at most, then we'd be gone and the
[4:38] Speaker 1: town would have their forest back. The next morning, we
[4:44] Speaker 1: decided to split the day between paperwork and local logistics.
[4:48] Speaker 1: Seth wanted to get breakfast and see what the town
[4:51] Speaker 1: was actually like in the daylight. I agreed, mostly because
[4:56] Speaker 1: the state records on the mine were such a mess
[4:59] Speaker 1: that it made to check the town's clerk office while
[5:02] Speaker 1: we were here. I figured we might find original filings
[5:06] Speaker 1: or released some version of the truth closer to the source.
[5:11] Speaker 1: The diner was the first stop. It was the same
[5:14] Speaker 1: one from the previous night, though it looked warmer in
[5:18] Speaker 1: the morning light, wood paneled walls, a faded jukebox, and
[5:23] Speaker 1: a specials board written in hard to recursive. There were
[5:27] Speaker 1: only two other customers, both elderly, both watching us over
[5:32] Speaker 1: their mugs without speaking A waitress greeted us with a
[5:37] Speaker 1: smile that didn't quite touch her eyes. She handed us menus,
[5:41] Speaker 1: asked where we were from, and then made no further comment.
[5:45] Speaker 1: When I said, we were working on a state assignment
[5:47] Speaker 1: near the mine. We're just cleaning up some liability stuff,
[5:52] Speaker 1: I added, trying to keep the tone casual, she nodded slowly.
[6:00] Speaker 1: Best not to linger past sundown. Then Seth gave me
[6:04] Speaker 1: a quick glance but didn't say anything. Breakfast arrived quickly.
[6:10] Speaker 1: Everything was hot, and everything tasted fine. The silence around
[6:14] Speaker 1: us remained fixed in place. When Seth asked the waitress
[6:19] Speaker 1: what she meant earlier, she wiped her hand on her
[6:21] Speaker 1: apron and said, ain't much up there worth surveying anymore,
[6:26] Speaker 1: then walked away. He looked over at me, eyebrows raised.
[6:32] Speaker 1: They're all weirdly cagey about this. He noticed that I
[6:37] Speaker 1: had noticed, But I also knew that rural towns protected
[6:41] Speaker 1: their dead fiercely. Tragedy becomes folklore, and folklore turns into boundaries.
[6:47] Speaker 1: People stop questioning. I figured it was better not to bush.
[6:54] Speaker 1: When we stopped at the general store afterward to buy
[6:56] Speaker 1: some bottled water and replacement gloves, Seth mentioned the baby shoe,
[7:01] Speaker 1: just a passing comment to the woman at the register,
[7:04] Speaker 1: asked if they did any sort of local memorials up
[7:07] Speaker 1: by the mine. She froze mid scan. Her hand rested
[7:13] Speaker 1: on top of the register for a full second before
[7:16] Speaker 1: she looked up. That's not for you to handle, she said.
[7:22] Speaker 1: Seth blinked, I mean we already bagged it part of
[7:27] Speaker 1: cycleing up. Her expression shifted, but only slightly. Then she
[7:34] Speaker 1: handed him the receipt without saying another word. We left
[7:39] Speaker 1: in silence. Seth kept shaking his head the whole way
[7:43] Speaker 1: back to the car. They're acting like we dug up
[7:46] Speaker 1: a grave. Maybe we did, and I said, not literally,
[7:52] Speaker 1: but to them could be. At the clerk's office, I
[7:59] Speaker 1: asked for record from the mine's operational period. The woman
[8:03] Speaker 1: behind the desk handed me a heavy binder without asking
[8:06] Speaker 1: any questions. Her nameplate was chipped and the corners of
[8:10] Speaker 1: the folder were stained from time and handling. It had
[8:14] Speaker 1: clearly been opened more than once, but not recently. I
[8:19] Speaker 1: brought it to one of the black tables and started
[8:22] Speaker 1: scanning through it while Seth looked over some land plaits.
[8:27] Speaker 1: About half way through the binder, I found two sheets
[8:30] Speaker 1: clipped together, both labeled Casualty Summary Ever Greek Collapse March
[8:36] Speaker 1: nineteen thirty seven. The first listed seventeen names, each followed
[8:42] Speaker 1: by a cross symbol and a four digit miners ID.
[8:47] Speaker 1: The second listed only eleven. The others were marked simply
[8:51] Speaker 1: as unrecovered. There was no explanation, no read ink or
[8:58] Speaker 1: notes in the margin, just two nearly identical documents that
[9:02] Speaker 1: contradicted each other completely. That alone would have been worth noting.
[9:08] Speaker 1: But deeper in the binder, tucked into a folder labeled
[9:12] Speaker 1: post collapse Correspondence, I found something stranger. Photocopies of town
[9:20] Speaker 1: death certificates, bundled by decade. Some were handwritten, others typed
[9:26] Speaker 1: in fading carbon. Most were a routine old age farm accident,
[9:32] Speaker 1: the kind of mortality you expect in rural places. But
[9:36] Speaker 1: until recently, every two decades, always in late autumn, a
[9:42] Speaker 1: name would appear with no cause of death listed, just missing.
[9:50] Speaker 1: The latest entry was twenty years old October two thousand
[9:54] Speaker 1: and five. Written by hand, was a note saying as
[9:58] Speaker 1: solution was found. No other details were given. Seth came
[10:04] Speaker 1: over and asked if I found anything interesting. I showed
[10:08] Speaker 1: him the list. He whistled low through his teeth. Could
[10:13] Speaker 1: be coincidence, he said, but his voice didn't sound convinced
[10:19] Speaker 1: it could. I agreed, But someone had grouped them all
[10:23] Speaker 1: together across nearly a century of town records. That wasn't
[10:28] Speaker 1: standard viling. That was curation. When I asked the clerk
[10:33] Speaker 1: if anyone was expecting us at the side tomorrow, she
[10:37] Speaker 1: shook her head. We don't go up there, she said,
[10:42] Speaker 1: not any more. She didn't elaborate. I didn't ask her to. Outside,
[10:50] Speaker 1: the wind had picked up. It came down from the
[10:54] Speaker 1: ridge in slow, cold currents, the kind that settles into
[10:57] Speaker 1: your clothes when you stay there. We drove back to
[11:01] Speaker 1: the motel without speaking. The next day, Seth stayed behind
[11:08] Speaker 1: the catalog's soil data while I returned to the mine
[11:11] Speaker 1: sight alone. The air was colder than it had been
[11:15] Speaker 1: the day before. The sky was gray but dry, and
[11:19] Speaker 1: the woods held a heavy stillness that felt deeper than weather.
[11:24] Speaker 1: I paced the perimeter again, noting where the ridge sloped
[11:28] Speaker 1: toward a cluster of collapsed timbers that had probably once
[11:31] Speaker 1: supported the original access trail. From there, the forest pushed
[11:36] Speaker 1: right up against the edge of the old fence, its
[11:40] Speaker 1: roots lifting the earth and stone in uneven patterns. It
[11:44] Speaker 1: was a dramatic subsistence, but it suggested slow movement beneath
[11:49] Speaker 1: the surface, the kinder thing that wouldn't appear on modern
[11:52] Speaker 1: records unless some one went locking. That was when I
[11:57] Speaker 1: heard it, A faint, metallic sound, sharp rhythmic. It came
[12:04] Speaker 1: from somewhere beneath the ground, distant but consistent, the kind
[12:09] Speaker 1: of sound that might have been dismissed as wind dragging
[12:12] Speaker 1: through old ventilation shafts or water dripping from rusted struts
[12:16] Speaker 1: onto a hollow steel plate. But the intervals were too clean, steady.
[12:23] Speaker 1: It struck stone and rang out in short echoes, as
[12:27] Speaker 1: if whatever was causing it was focused on something specific.
[12:32] Speaker 1: I stopped walking, crouched and pressed my palm to the earth.
[12:37] Speaker 1: Felt nothing. The vibrations, if they existed, were too faint. Still,
[12:45] Speaker 1: the sound continued for another ten seconds, then it stopped
[12:49] Speaker 1: all at once. I stood slowly and scanned the surrounding slope,
[12:56] Speaker 1: Just past the trail collapse. Behind a clump of bugs thorn,
[13:01] Speaker 1: I saw something that didn't belong. A small clearing, half
[13:06] Speaker 1: swallowed by moss and leaf litter, A shallow pile of
[13:10] Speaker 1: items sat at its center, arranged with deliberate spacing, not
[13:15] Speaker 1: trash and not abandoned. A silver ring tarnished and bented
[13:21] Speaker 1: the edge. A folded photograph warped from moisture, but still
[13:26] Speaker 1: showing the face of a man standing beside a truck.
[13:30] Speaker 1: A pale braid of hair tied at both ends with twine.
[13:35] Speaker 1: All of it was placed with care, though the elements
[13:38] Speaker 1: had done their best to erase the intent. I stood
[13:43] Speaker 1: there for a long time, trying to piece together whether
[13:46] Speaker 1: this was grief, folklore, or something else. Entirely, it was
[13:52] Speaker 1: too far from any graveyard to be a memorial, and
[13:55] Speaker 1: the items were too personal to have been discarded by chance.
[14:00] Speaker 1: Photograph the scene from a distance, then log the GPS coordinates,
[14:04] Speaker 1: and returned to the motel. Seth was in the lobby
[14:09] Speaker 1: working through the geology report over a coffee that had
[14:12] Speaker 1: long since gone cold. I dropped into the armchair across
[14:16] Speaker 1: from him and relayed what I'd found. Second one, huh,
[14:22] Speaker 1: he said, you think it's part of the same tradition,
[14:26] Speaker 1: like another offering site. It has that feel to it,
[14:30] Speaker 1: I said, But nothing official, no plaques, no town maintenance.
[14:36] Speaker 1: All of it looks like it's meant to be forgotten.
[14:40] Speaker 1: He leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.
[14:44] Speaker 1: I tried asking that waitress again, just normal questions. You'd
[14:48] Speaker 1: think i'd asked about somebody's funeral. She said, they don't
[14:51] Speaker 1: go near the fence line. Told me to mind the
[14:54] Speaker 1: season and let it rest. Whatever that means, same tone
[15:01] Speaker 1: I got at the clerk's office. Everyone's polite, but they're
[15:05] Speaker 1: not confused. They know something. Seth looked out the front window.
[15:12] Speaker 1: The sky was starting to dim. The clouds had thickened
[15:16] Speaker 1: since I got back. Do we tell them we're opening
[15:20] Speaker 1: the shafts soon, No point, I said, It's not a
[15:25] Speaker 1: conversation they're interested in having. It was just afternoon when
[15:34] Speaker 1: I decided to stretch my legs and walk the edge
[15:37] Speaker 1: of town. Seth had returned to the motel to sort data,
[15:42] Speaker 1: but I needed to escape the screen for a while.
[15:45] Speaker 1: The air was still pressed down under low cloud cover.
[15:50] Speaker 1: Nothing moved in the trees, even the birds had gone quiet.
[15:55] Speaker 1: The streets were empty. In that in between way rural
[15:58] Speaker 1: towns offten are shops open but unattended. Wind chime's moving
[16:03] Speaker 1: without sound. I passed the church, a one room schoolhouse,
[16:09] Speaker 1: and a shuttered gas station that still sold cold sodas
[16:12] Speaker 1: through an ancient vending machine. Near the edge of the church,
[16:17] Speaker 1: I spotted a boy crouched beside a dry colvert. He
[16:21] Speaker 1: was fiddling with something in the dark, maybe a stick
[16:25] Speaker 1: or a bit of wire, the way kids do when
[16:27] Speaker 1: they have more day than structure. No older than seven.
[16:33] Speaker 1: He didn't notice me at first. I slowed as I
[16:37] Speaker 1: passed and gave him a quick nod. Hey there, I said,
[16:42] Speaker 1: keeping the tone casual. You know any scary stories about
[16:46] Speaker 1: the mines? He rose. The object in his hands slipped
[16:52] Speaker 1: from his grip, but he didn't move to pick it up.
[16:56] Speaker 1: I just sat there, my shoulders stiff and my head.
[17:01] Speaker 1: I waited for a moment, then smiled. I was thinking
[17:06] Speaker 1: of going to play up there, I added, keeping it friendly,
[17:10] Speaker 1: I thought I should ask if there are any monsters
[17:13] Speaker 1: to watch out for. That got him to look up,
[17:18] Speaker 1: but not with amusement. His eyes were wide, in the
[17:21] Speaker 1: way kids get when they've been told a rule that
[17:24] Speaker 1: feels larger than them, something that feels older than their parents.
[17:29] Speaker 1: He looked around, then leaned in slightly. I'm not supposed
[17:35] Speaker 1: to talk about it, he said. I crouched a little,
[17:39] Speaker 1: hands on my knees, staying a few steps back. Fair enough,
[17:45] Speaker 1: But I won't tell if you don't. The boy hesitated, Then,
[17:52] Speaker 1: in a near whisper, he said, the facelesswans are there.
[17:57] Speaker 1: They only come out if someone opens it every twenty
[18:00] Speaker 1: years or so. That's why we leave stuff. It stops
[18:04] Speaker 1: them from coming. He stood up and dusted off his pants.
[18:11] Speaker 1: Then he turned and walked away without another word, not running,
[18:17] Speaker 1: but quick head down. He never looked back. I stood
[18:24] Speaker 1: there for a few moments after he disappeared around the corner,
[18:27] Speaker 1: letting his words settle faceless ones. The phrasing was strange.
[18:36] Speaker 1: Not monsters, not ghosts, not even miners, faceless. It was
[18:43] Speaker 1: the kind of story a child might inherit without understanding,
[18:47] Speaker 1: something passed down through repetition, never fully explained, just accepted
[18:53] Speaker 1: to me. It was a bit of folklore, probably rooted
[18:57] Speaker 1: in grief. Away for the town, I ritualized the collapse,
[19:02] Speaker 1: a quiet warning wrapped in superstition. It was an uncommon
[19:07] Speaker 1: I'd heard dozens of versions in other towns across the state. Still,
[19:12] Speaker 1: as I made my way back to the motel, I
[19:15] Speaker 1: found myself repeating the phrase under my breath, the faceless ones.
[19:30] Speaker 1: We started early the next morning, just after the sun
[19:34] Speaker 1: cleared the ridge. The sky was flat and pale, The
[19:38] Speaker 1: clouds stretched thin across the horizon. Seth looked half awake
[19:42] Speaker 1: when he met me by the car, but his boots
[19:45] Speaker 1: were laced and he was already double checking the survey gear.
[19:50] Speaker 1: The drive to the site was short, trees pressed in
[19:53] Speaker 1: from both sides of the access road, brittle with a
[19:56] Speaker 1: change in season. By the time we reached the mine entrance,
[20:00] Speaker 1: the frost and the undergrowth had already started to melt.
[20:05] Speaker 1: The boards covering the main shaft entrance were old and brittle.
[20:09] Speaker 1: They cracked easily under pressure and pried them loose while
[20:13] Speaker 1: Seth cleared the debris beneath the outer layer. The frame
[20:17] Speaker 1: had been reinforced with thick nails and rusted chains. Someone
[20:21] Speaker 1: had sealed it thoroughly once that effort hadn't held. Behind
[20:27] Speaker 1: the final boards, darkness pressed forward in a way that
[20:31] Speaker 1: felt tangible. The shaft yawned open, lined with rotting timber.
[20:38] Speaker 1: No air movement, just stillness. I stepped forward first and
[20:43] Speaker 1: checked the air with a handheld reader. Oxygen low but breathable,
[20:49] Speaker 1: no methane, no signs of recent activity. Just stale air
[20:54] Speaker 1: and the dry rot of long abandoned spaces. Inside the
[21:00] Speaker 1: beam of my headlamp cut through thick layers of dust
[21:02] Speaker 1: and old cobwebs. The walls narrowed quickly, then opened into
[21:07] Speaker 1: the first main corridor, calvestone, reinforced with wood beams, most
[21:13] Speaker 1: of them splintered and leaning under their own weight. We
[21:17] Speaker 1: moved slowly, pausing often to photograph structural damage and cross
[21:22] Speaker 1: checking support spaces. Seth handled the laser mapping, marking depth
[21:27] Speaker 1: and slow gradients as we went. The process was tedious,
[21:33] Speaker 1: but necessary, no shortcuts with work like this. About an
[21:39] Speaker 1: hour in we both paused at the same time. A
[21:43] Speaker 1: sound had drifted up from the tunnel ahead, faint, sharp,
[21:48] Speaker 1: a metallic tick, followed by a pause, then another, regular
[21:53] Speaker 1: intervals clean repetition. Seth raised an eyebrow, you hear that.
[22:03] Speaker 1: I nodded, already listening harder. The sound came again, distant.
[22:11] Speaker 1: It echoed faintly along the stone, but not enough to
[22:14] Speaker 1: locate a source. Could be water dripping. I said, if
[22:20] Speaker 1: this metal piping still embedded in the rock, the echo
[22:23] Speaker 1: can carry. Seth didn't respond, but I could tell he
[22:29] Speaker 1: didn't buy it. I wasn't sure I did either, but
[22:34] Speaker 1: I wasn't going to say what it really sounded like.
[22:37] Speaker 1: Not yet. We kept working. There was still a lot
[22:43] Speaker 1: to do. The map had to be completed before we
[22:47] Speaker 1: could even submit the preliminary risk report. Neither of us
[22:52] Speaker 1: mentioned the sound again, though it returned occasionally, always at
[22:57] Speaker 1: the edge of hearing. By mid afternoon, we were both
[23:02] Speaker 1: covered in dust, our knees saw from crouching, our wrists
[23:06] Speaker 1: aching from constant notation. The work was good, methodical, but
[23:12] Speaker 1: it drained you. Old tunnels had a way of taking
[23:16] Speaker 1: more energy than they gave back. We reached the midpoint
[23:20] Speaker 1: of the shaft and decided to stop for the day.
[23:24] Speaker 1: There was too much to cover in a single pass,
[23:27] Speaker 1: and we hadn't brought enough gear for an overnight trip.
[23:32] Speaker 1: Before we left, we stacked our packs near the entrance.
[23:36] Speaker 1: It felt safe enough. No one in town would likely
[23:39] Speaker 1: come near the mine, not with how they spoke about it,
[23:43] Speaker 1: and the equipment wasn't useful to anyone who didn't know
[23:46] Speaker 1: how to use it. Specialized tools had a way of
[23:49] Speaker 1: protecting themselves. We hiked back to the car without speaking much.
[23:55] Speaker 1: The quiet between us wasn't tension. It was exhaustion, the
[24:00] Speaker 1: kind that settled into your shoulders and made you feel
[24:03] Speaker 1: older than you were. By the time we rolled back
[24:07] Speaker 1: into ever Creek, the sky had already started to dim.
[24:12] Speaker 1: We didn't talk about the sound in the mine. We
[24:15] Speaker 1: just drove to the diner and ordered whatever was still
[24:18] Speaker 1: on the grill. We were dirty, tired, and hungry enough
[24:22] Speaker 1: to forget everything else for a little while. The diner
[24:27] Speaker 1: felt warmer than usual when we stepped in. The windows
[24:31] Speaker 1: were fogged at the corners from the kitchen heat, and
[24:34] Speaker 1: the overhead lights hummed softly above our booth. We sat
[24:38] Speaker 1: near the back, away from the regulars who always clustered
[24:41] Speaker 1: close to the counter. Seth looked worn out. He rubbed
[24:46] Speaker 1: his eyes with a heel of his hand while flipped
[24:49] Speaker 1: through my note book, cross checking some of the beam
[24:51] Speaker 1: measurements from earlier. Our boots left the trail of dry
[24:55] Speaker 1: mud across the floor, and the waitress didn't ask us
[24:58] Speaker 1: to wipe it up. She just dropped off two waters
[25:02] Speaker 1: and walked away. We ate slowly, tired from the work.
[25:08] Speaker 1: Neither of us had much to say at first. Eventually
[25:13] Speaker 1: Seth broke the silence. The place was empty, he said,
[25:20] Speaker 1: not even a raccoon down there. I don't get what
[25:23] Speaker 1: they're so scared of. He said it too loudly, not shouting,
[25:31] Speaker 1: just casual, the kind of volume people use when they
[25:35] Speaker 1: assume no one is listening. Some one was a man
[25:41] Speaker 1: in a booth two tables over. Turned in his seat.
[25:44] Speaker 1: He stood up slowly, eyes locked on us. His voice
[25:49] Speaker 1: was sharp enough to cut through the entire room. You
[25:53] Speaker 1: opened it, Seth rose mid bite. I set my fork down.
[26:01] Speaker 1: The diner went still, Conversations died, the clink of silverware stopped.
[26:07] Speaker 1: Chairs scraped lightly as people began to stand. Some avoided
[26:12] Speaker 1: looking at us, Others stared too directly. The man didn't
[26:17] Speaker 1: say anything else. He just stood there a moment longer,
[26:21] Speaker 1: then walked out. A few others followed him. A woman
[26:27] Speaker 1: near the counter leaned in our direction. Go back to
[26:31] Speaker 1: your motel. She said, lock your doors tonight. Seth looked
[26:38] Speaker 1: at me, his brows furrowed. I didn't know what to say.
[26:44] Speaker 1: The waitress came by with a check. She didn't meet
[26:47] Speaker 1: her eyes, then she walked away. The rest of the meal,
[26:53] Speaker 1: sat and touched, repaid, and left without another word. Outside
[26:59] Speaker 1: the street, Ada, no one was on the sidewalks. No
[27:03] Speaker 1: cars passing. The sun had finally dipped behind the ridge,
[27:07] Speaker 1: leaving the town in that in between collar that doesn't
[27:10] Speaker 1: belong to day or night. Windows were shuttered, porch lights
[27:15] Speaker 1: were off. The walk to the motel wasn't far, but
[27:20] Speaker 1: it felt longer than it should have. The silence pressed
[27:23] Speaker 1: in from both sides, even the wind had dropped away.
[27:29] Speaker 1: When we reached our room, we didn't discuss it. We
[27:33] Speaker 1: said good night at our doors and locked them behind us.
[27:38] Speaker 1: Seth double checked the dead bolt, then said through the wall,
[27:43] Speaker 1: see you in the morning. I didn't answer right away.
[27:49] Speaker 1: Eventually I said yeah, morning, but it was hard to
[27:56] Speaker 1: believe that tomorrow would feel the same Today. We woke early,
[28:05] Speaker 1: though neither of us had slept well. I kept waking
[28:09] Speaker 1: to small noises that never repeated, moments that might have
[28:12] Speaker 1: been dreams, but left a hair on my arms standing straight.
[28:17] Speaker 1: When we stepped outside, the air had turned colder, a
[28:21] Speaker 1: fine mist clung to the gravel lot, and the sky
[28:24] Speaker 1: had the flat, heavy color that usually meant snow. By nightfall,
[28:30] Speaker 1: the town was still not just slow, not quiet in
[28:34] Speaker 1: the way small places often are. It was still in
[28:38] Speaker 1: the way of shut doors and drawn curtains. The kind
[28:42] Speaker 1: of stillness that implies watching. The diner was closed, no
[28:47] Speaker 1: chairs on the porch, no light inside. The gas station
[28:51] Speaker 1: had its metal shutters down. The General's door was locked,
[28:55] Speaker 1: its windows dark. We knocked on a few doors, more
[29:01] Speaker 1: out of instinct than hope. We could hear the shovel
[29:04] Speaker 1: of feet inside. Once there was the distinct sound of
[29:08] Speaker 1: some one inhaling sharply when we knocked, but no one
[29:11] Speaker 1: opened up. Seth looked around and rubbed his neck. They're hiding,
[29:19] Speaker 1: they're waiting, I said, for what. I didn't answer. We
[29:28] Speaker 1: made our way back to the mine. The path had
[29:31] Speaker 1: the same emptiness as the town did. At the mine entrance,
[29:35] Speaker 1: everything was untouched. The boards we had pried loose still
[29:39] Speaker 1: lay in a neat stack by the opening. Our gear
[29:42] Speaker 1: sat just where we left it, the dust undisturbed. It
[29:48] Speaker 1: felt wrong to step into the shaft again, but we did.
[29:53] Speaker 1: The job wasn't finished inside. The air had grown heavier,
[30:00] Speaker 1: not from weather or lack of oxygen. There was simply
[30:03] Speaker 1: a pressure to it now, the kind that settles behind
[30:07] Speaker 1: your eyes and makes your jaw clench. Without knowing why,
[30:11] Speaker 1: we worked in silence, mapping, photographing, and logging. I tried
[30:17] Speaker 1: to focus, but every few minutes the sound returned. Tick,
[30:25] Speaker 1: metal on stone, pause, tick. It echoed from deeper in
[30:33] Speaker 1: the tunnel, always past the last point we'd explored, never
[30:38] Speaker 1: louder than a soft chime, but enough to hear, enough
[30:42] Speaker 1: to feel in the joints of your teeth. Seth stopped
[30:47] Speaker 1: once to ask what I thought it was. I gave
[30:50] Speaker 1: the same MANSI I had before, groundwater pressure shifts old machinery,
[30:57] Speaker 1: but I knew he didn't believe me. We left earlier
[31:01] Speaker 1: than we had the day before. Neither of us wanted
[31:04] Speaker 1: to be in the shaft when the light failed. Back
[31:08] Speaker 1: at the motel, the hallway smelled faintly of cedar and dust.
[31:13] Speaker 1: Our doors were closed, but something had changed. Inside my
[31:18] Speaker 1: room and the table beside the window sat a basket,
[31:23] Speaker 1: wicker lined with cloth, no tag, no note. Inside was
[31:30] Speaker 1: cheese wrapped in wax paper, jerky salted in dense bottled water.
[31:37] Speaker 1: Six tall containers, labels peeled off. Seth called from his room.
[31:43] Speaker 1: He had one too. We stood in the hallway a moment,
[31:48] Speaker 1: baskets in hand. This isn't hospitality, I said, no, he said,
[31:57] Speaker 1: it's rations. We didn't talk about what that meant, but
[32:04] Speaker 1: I left the basket sealed. When I went to bed,
[32:10] Speaker 1: I woke to the sound of something slamming against the door.
[32:14] Speaker 1: Not knocking, not a fist. It was heavier than that, blunt,
[32:20] Speaker 1: deliberate pace, with the kind of weight that didn't need
[32:24] Speaker 1: to rush. The first strike rattled the frame, the second
[32:29] Speaker 1: made the bedside lamp flicker. I sat up too fast
[32:33] Speaker 1: and nearly fell out of bed. My mouth was dry.
[32:36] Speaker 1: I hadn't heard any footsteps or voices leading up to it,
[32:41] Speaker 1: just the bang, then another, then the silence in between.
[32:47] Speaker 1: I thought at first that the townspeople had decided to
[32:50] Speaker 1: force us out, that the warnings had turned into action.
[32:54] Speaker 1: I imagined a group outside with flashlights and tools, fed
[32:58] Speaker 1: up with our presence of whatever they thought we had stirred.
[33:04] Speaker 1: But I didn't hear voices, no muttering or yelling. Just
[33:09] Speaker 1: one more slow, heavy impact against the door. The hallway
[33:14] Speaker 1: light under the door flickered once, then dimmed. I backed
[33:19] Speaker 1: into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it. It
[33:23] Speaker 1: was a flimsy bolt, the kind meant for privacy, not protection.
[33:28] Speaker 1: I sat down in the corner beside the toilet and
[33:30] Speaker 1: tried to slow my breathing another blow shook the walls.
[33:36] Speaker 1: Then came the sound of wood splintering, long drawn out cracking,
[33:41] Speaker 1: the groan of material giving way under pressure. Whatever was
[33:45] Speaker 1: out there had started breaking, something apart, but it wasn't
[33:51] Speaker 1: my door. The sound shifted. I heard a scream, Seth.
[34:00] Speaker 1: It came from the room next door. Not just one shout.
[34:04] Speaker 1: It stretched out, ragged, panicked. I heard furniture scrape, then crash.
[34:11] Speaker 1: Something was being dragged, not fast, a slow pull across
[34:17] Speaker 1: the carpet. Seth screamed again. Then it cut off, sudden
[34:23] Speaker 1: and sharp. I pressed my hand over my mouth and
[34:28] Speaker 1: stayed completely still. My own breathing felt too loud. Then
[34:34] Speaker 1: came the creaking, not footsteps, just the sound of something
[34:39] Speaker 1: shifting weight, a slow movement, wood bending under uneven pressure.
[34:46] Speaker 1: The hallway groaned. Minutes passed, then more, No more sounds,
[34:54] Speaker 1: no more movement. I didn't open the door. I didn't speak.
[34:59] Speaker 1: I sat curled on the tile floor, knees pulled to
[35:02] Speaker 1: my chest, staring at the space beneath the bathroom door,
[35:06] Speaker 1: and waiting for the sky to turn gray again. It
[35:11] Speaker 1: was a long time before dawn came. When morning finally came,
[35:19] Speaker 1: I stepped out into the hallway, expecting to see the
[35:22] Speaker 1: remnants of a break in, maybe even the police. But
[35:27] Speaker 1: the corridor was clean, the carpet undisturbed. My door stood intact, latched, untouched.
[35:36] Speaker 1: I crossed a few feet to Seth's room and felt
[35:39] Speaker 1: the shift as soon as I reached it. His door
[35:43] Speaker 1: was split down the center. The frame had been torn
[35:46] Speaker 1: at the corners where the bolts used to be. The
[35:49] Speaker 1: handle hung loose on one screw, and the paint around
[35:52] Speaker 1: the lock had buckled outward. Four clean holes had been
[35:57] Speaker 1: punched straight through on the bottom half of the door.
[36:02] Speaker 1: They weren't ragged. They were narrow and round, drilled deep
[36:06] Speaker 1: and deliberate, about the width of a pickaxe tip. Inside
[36:11] Speaker 1: the room, the sheet had been stripped half way down
[36:14] Speaker 1: the bed. The nightstand lay on its side. The floor
[36:18] Speaker 1: was scuffed in a wide arc. The carpet torn where
[36:21] Speaker 1: something had been dragged. A dark red smear trailed from
[36:25] Speaker 1: the bed to the door, then turned toward the parking lot. Outside,
[36:31] Speaker 1: a woman in a plain gray sweater was mopping the
[36:34] Speaker 1: pavement with slow, practiced strokes. She worked in silence, pushing
[36:39] Speaker 1: the soaked fibers across the concrete. The red line faded
[36:43] Speaker 1: behind her with each pass. She never looked up. I
[36:51] Speaker 1: stood there for a long time, waiting for someone else
[36:54] Speaker 1: to appear, for a police cruiser, a medic, a crowd,
[37:00] Speaker 1: but no one came. Eventually I left the motel and
[37:05] Speaker 1: walked into town. The streets were no longer empty. The
[37:11] Speaker 1: diner had its chairs back out. The gas station pumps
[37:14] Speaker 1: were humming again. A man was putting out a sandwich
[37:17] Speaker 1: board for the Lunt Special. People passed me on the
[37:21] Speaker 1: sidewalk without stopping. Near the post office, I found a
[37:25] Speaker 1: small group gathered in the street, half a dozen men
[37:29] Speaker 1: and women, all standing in a loose formation. They weren't
[37:34] Speaker 1: holding anything, they weren't armed, just waiting. One of them,
[37:41] Speaker 1: a man in a tan coat with sleeves too short
[37:44] Speaker 1: for his arms, stepped forward. He was maybe fifty. His
[37:49] Speaker 1: expression was neither kind nor angry. It's time for you
[37:55] Speaker 1: to go now, he said. I stared at him. What
[38:00] Speaker 1: happened to my partner? No one answered. I tried again,
[38:06] Speaker 1: what happened last night? Where did you all go the
[38:09] Speaker 1: day before? Why are you acting like this is normal?
[38:14] Speaker 1: The man's mouth twitched once at the corner, not quite
[38:18] Speaker 1: a smile, more of a signal, a recognition that my
[38:22] Speaker 1: questions didn't need answers. An offering has been made, he said.
[38:32] Speaker 1: I looked past him to the others. None of them
[38:35] Speaker 1: met my eyes. They stared just over my shoulder, waiting.
[38:42] Speaker 1: I turned and walked away. No one followed. The sky
[38:51] Speaker 1: was dull gray when I returned to the mine. The
[38:54] Speaker 1: streets along the road were still, the leaves half dropped
[38:58] Speaker 1: and wet from a slow morning tree. The tires cracked
[39:02] Speaker 1: over gravel, but the rest of the world held its breath.
[39:07] Speaker 1: No one followed me. No one had asked where I
[39:10] Speaker 1: was going. The entrance had been sealed again. Fresh boards
[39:18] Speaker 1: crossed the mouth of the shaft, cleaner than the old ones.
[39:22] Speaker 1: We had pulled away. New bolts reinforced the frame. Someone
[39:27] Speaker 1: had worked quickly and quietly, and they had done it
[39:31] Speaker 1: before sunrise. I walked to the fence. The grass around
[39:36] Speaker 1: the path was damp, but a few red droplets stood
[39:39] Speaker 1: out on the pale soil leading toward the base of
[39:42] Speaker 1: the entrance. The color was too bright to be old.
[39:48] Speaker 1: Then I saw a bundle. It had been placed carefully,
[39:53] Speaker 1: resting against the lower beam of the gate. A handkerchief
[39:57] Speaker 1: knotted into a loose satchel bulging at the center. I
[40:03] Speaker 1: crouched and opened it inside with the same kinds of
[40:09] Speaker 1: items we had found before, a ring dulled by age,
[40:14] Speaker 1: a lock of hair braided and yellowed at the tip,
[40:17] Speaker 1: two small teeth that looked far too human, and nestled
[40:21] Speaker 1: among them in the pile of offerings. The plastic corner
[40:26] Speaker 1: of a clipped work badge seths his name, his face,
[40:34] Speaker 1: still clean, still laminated. It must have been taken from
[40:39] Speaker 1: the pack we had left behind. I stood slowly, holding
[40:45] Speaker 1: the bundle against my chest, then lowered it again and
[40:49] Speaker 1: left it there. I pieced it altogether. Something in the mines,
[40:57] Speaker 1: the faceless ones that I heard about, were in there,
[41:02] Speaker 1: Whether their lost souls from the collapse or something far older,
[41:06] Speaker 1: I did not know. But what I did know was
[41:10] Speaker 1: how they kept them back, memorabilia, memories from when they
[41:16] Speaker 1: were alive, left on their doorstep, maybe a reminder of
[41:20] Speaker 1: their humanity to stop claiming more souls. They had solved this,
[41:26] Speaker 1: worked this out over decades, and we came in and
[41:32] Speaker 1: messed things up. And how could this have gone any different?
[41:38] Speaker 1: If some here came up raving about monsters and rituals,
[41:42] Speaker 1: we'd have pushed them aside to do our work. No
[41:48] Speaker 1: one had told me what to do next. There was
[41:51] Speaker 1: no official protocol for this, no field manual entry labeled folklore,
[41:56] Speaker 1: no check box for an offering made in some one
[41:58] Speaker 1: else's name. I sat in the driver's seat of the
[42:02] Speaker 1: truck with the engine off, and opened my field log
[42:08] Speaker 1: mind structure remains unstable conditions hazardous collapse risk high. I
[42:16] Speaker 1: paused secondary fatality during inspection. Body unrecoverable. Recommend indefinite closure.
[42:27] Speaker 1: I didn't sign it right away, just closed the book
[42:31] Speaker 1: and rested it on my lap. Then I looked back
[42:36] Speaker 1: at the mouth of mine. I never heard the ticking
[42:41] Speaker 1: sound again, but I also never went back

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