Derek

But the voice continued, desperate and pleading, floating through the canyon like a twisted reflection of my own terror. The camera shook as I broke into a run, crashing blindly through the underbrush, desperate to escape the echoing cries. Moments later, stumbling and gasping, I dropped to the ground near a clearing.

But the voice continued, desperate and pleading, floating through the canyon like a twisted reflection of my own terror. The camera shook as I broke into a run, crashing blindly through the underbrush, desperate to escape the echoing cries. Moments later, stumbling and gasping, I dropped to the ground near a clearing.

I spoke directly into the camera, my voice barely audible above my ragged breathing. This might be the last recording, I said, glancing nervously over my shoulder. If someone finds this, don't follow the cairns. Don't trust your eyes. It's mimicking me. It wants me trapped here. I'm leaving the camera here. Maybe someone will find it. Maybe someone can avoid whatever this is.

I spoke directly into the camera, my voice barely audible above my ragged breathing. This might be the last recording, I said, glancing nervously over my shoulder. If someone finds this, don't follow the cairns. Don't trust your eyes. It's mimicking me. It wants me trapped here. I'm leaving the camera here. Maybe someone will find it. Maybe someone can avoid whatever this is.

I wedged the GoPro firmly into the crook of a tree branch, pointing it toward the narrow path, a desperate final attempt at communicating what had happened. I lingered for a moment, hesitation clear on my face before finally staggering out of view. The rescuers recovered my footage weeks later, precisely where I had left it.

I wedged the GoPro firmly into the crook of a tree branch, pointing it toward the narrow path, a desperate final attempt at communicating what had happened. I lingered for a moment, hesitation clear on my face before finally staggering out of view. The rescuers recovered my footage weeks later, precisely where I had left it.

They scoured the canyon, tracking dogs sniffing fruitlessly along steep ridges and deep gullies. But no sign of me emerged. No footprints beyond my camera, no clothing scraps, nothing. I had vanished completely. Then came the last piece of footage. The timestamp flashed 36 hours after my last known appearance, long after any rational chance of my survival.

They scoured the canyon, tracking dogs sniffing fruitlessly along steep ridges and deep gullies. But no sign of me emerged. No footprints beyond my camera, no clothing scraps, nothing. I had vanished completely. Then came the last piece of footage. The timestamp flashed 36 hours after my last known appearance, long after any rational chance of my survival.

The camera had activated again, triggered by some subtle motion or sound. The clip was brief, less than a minute. Darkness enveloped the trees, the image barely visible in the faint moonlight. For several seconds, nothing moved. Then a shadow shifted subtly among the trees, silent and indistinct.

The camera had activated again, triggered by some subtle motion or sound. The clip was brief, less than a minute. Darkness enveloped the trees, the image barely visible in the faint moonlight. For several seconds, nothing moved. Then a shadow shifted subtly among the trees, silent and indistinct.

The breathing began, a low, rasping exhale so close to the microphone it made my skin crawl when I saw it later. Just before the video ended, the same voice, almost identical to mine but colder, emptier, spoke clearly. You're next.

The breathing began, a low, rasping exhale so close to the microphone it made my skin crawl when I saw it later. Just before the video ended, the same voice, almost identical to mine but colder, emptier, spoke clearly. You're next.

Those words still echo endlessly in my mind, a chilling reminder that something still lurks out there, in that nameless canyon along the Devil's Backbone Trail, waiting patiently in silence. I took the seasonal forestry job in New Hampshire mostly because I needed isolation, a break from crowded city streets and fluorescent lit office cubicles.

Those words still echo endlessly in my mind, a chilling reminder that something still lurks out there, in that nameless canyon along the Devil's Backbone Trail, waiting patiently in silence. I took the seasonal forestry job in New Hampshire mostly because I needed isolation, a break from crowded city streets and fluorescent lit office cubicles.

After years managing digital records for a small company in Boston, the silence and solitude promised by the White Mountain National Forest seemed like salvation. My name is Derek Madsen, and for the next six months, I was tasked with basic maintenance, clearing debris, maintaining trail signage, and monitoring visitor safety. The ranger outpost I'd been assigned to, cabin 11,

After years managing digital records for a small company in Boston, the silence and solitude promised by the White Mountain National Forest seemed like salvation. My name is Derek Madsen, and for the next six months, I was tasked with basic maintenance, clearing debris, maintaining trail signage, and monitoring visitor safety. The ranger outpost I'd been assigned to, cabin 11,

sat deep in the Great Gulf Wilderness, a remote corner overshadowed by Mount Washington's rugged peak. The first day started with a grueling six-mile hike, lugging heavy gear along a winding, overgrown trail. Sweat coated my neck, soaking into the collar of my flannel shirt.

sat deep in the Great Gulf Wilderness, a remote corner overshadowed by Mount Washington's rugged peak. The first day started with a grueling six-mile hike, lugging heavy gear along a winding, overgrown trail. Sweat coated my neck, soaking into the collar of my flannel shirt.

By the time I spotted the cabin nestled amid dense spruce trees, the afternoon was already fading toward dusk, painting the surrounding peaks with streaks of orange and purple.

By the time I spotted the cabin nestled amid dense spruce trees, the afternoon was already fading toward dusk, painting the surrounding peaks with streaks of orange and purple.