Creepypasta #805: I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The US Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell (Part 7)
Length: Super long
One of the topics that I get asked about a lot, here and in real life, involve things like The Rake, the Wendigo, and other related legends. I can’t honestly say that I know a lot about any of them, but based on some light reading I did I can say that I’ve heard stories that seem to be loosely related to them. You’ve heard the old adage that legends like that come from somewhere, and I’m sure that’s true, but as you all know I do try to take things with a grain of salt. You have to, out here. It’s sort of like working in a hospital, I’d imagine. You could spend all day thinking about how many people have died there, and how there are probably ghosts, or whatever you want to call them, all over the place, but it doesn’t do you any good. It just makes it harder to do your job.
I think a lot of us feel that way, and that’s why we try to just go about our work like everything is fine. Once you get paranoid, there’s not really any going back, and a lot of cadets quit because of it. My park especially seems to have a high turn-over rate because the cadets graduate and get so freaked out about everything, and they can’t seem to let it go. You have to learn to internalize things and shut off.
I’ve talked to K.D a bit about her experience, because I wanted to know what she thought about the Wendigo. She didn’t really have anything in particular to say about it, aside from that she didn’t want to think about it that much, but she told me a friend of hers had had something similar happen. I contacted this person, H, over Skype, and they agreed to talk to me a bit. They’re aware of my work here, and they’re fine with me posting the story exactly as they wrote it:
“I grew up in Central Oregon, and there’s a reservation called Warm Springs about two or so hours from where I lived. I only mention that because a lot of people in my area have friends there, and a lot of the land in that area belongs to that tribe. When I was a kid, we used to go camping up there. Not on the res, of course, but in that area, and I met a lot of kids who grew up there. I got to know one kid really well, his name was Nolan, and we ended up hanging out a lot when our families were in the area.
Our folks got to know each other so we’d all get in touch and camp out around the same time. We’d camp for about two weeks, so we were out there for a long time. [I asked him if he camped in an RV.] Yeah, my dad had one, so I guess it wasn’t really camping but we’d take our tents and stuff and set them up out away from camp most nights. I didn’t like sleeping in there because I like being outside. [We talked for a bit about camping]
So anyway, sorry, one year Nolan and I were out there, I think we must have been like twelve or so. We wanted to go out and camp near the river because we wanted to try night fishing, I think we must have been about a third of a mile from the main camp. Far enough away that we couldn’t hear or see anyone else, I remember that. We were messing around most of the day, I don’t really remember much about it, but we ended up building a fire at some point and I was really impressed because he had this flint or something that he used to start it. I’d never seen anyone do that before so I thought it was pretty cool.
I got him to teach me how to do it and we lit some stuff on fire, which looking back was really stupid because it was the middle of fucking summer, and if I remember right the fire warning was either at yellow or orange. But thankfully we didn’t start anything major, and when it got dark we sat around and talked about whatever it is twelve year olds talk about, I don’t really remember. What I do remember is that at some point, he looked over my shoulder at the river and asked me if I could see something.