The Girl by the Creek

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The Girl by the Creek

Date of Incident: April 2 2025

You don’t see this kind of thing every day. Or maybe… some do.

I’ve lived in this neighborhood for almost 18 years now. And not once—not once—have I heard anyone mention something like this happening.

Anyway, let me start from the beginning.

I’m Nathan. Just your average 20-year-old guy. College student. I like to relax after class, usually by walking around the neighborhood. Sometimes I go for long walks—no real

 destination, just wherever the path takes me. I live alone. My family moved to another state a couple years ago, to one of our other properties, but I chose to stay behind to focus on school.

Our house—my current home—is the first one my parents ever bought, so yeah, there’s a lot of nostalgia. And peace. Lots of peace. Maybe too much sometimes.

The neighborhood is quiet. Like… eerily quiet. There are rows of big fancy houses here, most of them empty. A few people live around, but everyone keeps to themselves. No street parties, no kids on bikes, no backyard barbecues. Just… silence.

On the edge of the neighborhood, there’s a trail that leads to a small forest. I walk there often. It’s peaceful, and I know it like the back of my hand. The trail goes past a river and ends at a small creek about two kilometers in. That creek is usually where I stop and turn back. I've never had a reason to go beyond it.

March 3rd, 2025. It was a Tuesday. I had late classes and some club meetings, so I didn’t leave campus until around 6 p.m. But even though it was getting dark, I still wanted to go for a walk. A little fresh air before heading home.

The path felt normal at first—just birds chirping, the rustle of squirrels in the trees, maybe the occasional hoot of an owl. But as I got closer to the creek, I noticed how quiet it was. Too quiet. The kind of silence that presses on your eardrums.

Then I saw her.

She was sitting under the old oak tree near the creek. A girl. Dressed in a white robe that looked like it hadn’t seen dirt or dust. Her hair was pitch black and straight, falling over her shoulders. From about 50 feet away, I could see she was staring deep into the forest, unmoving.

My first thought was maybe she was lost. Or upset. Or maybe just meditating? Either way, something felt… off.

I stood there, frozen for a minute. Should I go back? Should I say something?

I finally decided to approach her. As I got closer, a chill ran down my spine. I don’t mean a light breeze kind of chill—I mean every hair on my body stood up.

 Goosebumps. Tight chest. That weird sense that something was wrong but you can't quite explain it.

Still, I kept walking.

When I was about two feet behind her, I said softly, “Excuse me, miss… it’s getting dark. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

No reply.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

I tried again, this time louder. “Hey, it’s late. Maybe you should head back?”

Still nothing.

That’s when I realized—something wasn’t right. There was no sense of life coming from her. No movement. No sound. Not even the faint rise and fall of her shoulders.

I stepped in front of her to speak directly.

And then… I saw her face.

Her eyes. They were glassy and pale—almost transparent. Her face was covered in deep, raw slashes. Bloodied, as if something—or someone—had torn at her skin. Her lips were cracked and torn at the corners. She wasn’t just hurt. She looked like she had died a long time ago.

I froze. My legs wouldn’t move. My heart was pounding so loud I thought she might hear it. And then…

She moved.

Her eyes slowly turned toward me. No blinking. Just those lifeless eyes locked onto mine.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even breathe.

Then—an owl hooted nearby.

That sound—so normal, so real—snapped me back. I could feel my legs again, and I ran. I didn’t look back. I just ran. Through the trees, over the roots, nearly tripping more than once.

After what felt like forever, I made it out.

I collapsed near the edge of the forest, gasping for air. My hands were shaking. My legs felt like jelly. But I was alive.

It’s been over a week now. I haven’t told anyone. Not my friends. Not my professors. I just avoid that trail now. I take the long way around if I have to walk near the forest.

I know what people would say—“Oh, you imagined it,” or “Maybe it was just a homeless person or a prank.”

No. It wasn’t.

What I saw wasn’t human.

And deep down… I don’t think it ever was.