Evan Mallory
speaker
161 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard May 2025
last heard May 2025
Evan Mallory’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
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Appearances
This happened in the fall of 2021, somewhere between Max Patch and Hot Springs on the Appalachian Trail. I haven't told many people about it, partly because I still don't understand it myself, and partly because I know how insane it sounds. There were five of us. Me, Liam, Caroline, Josh, and Ray. We were all experienced hikers, not just weekend warriors.
We'd planned a 10-day section hike, aimed for early October to avoid the crowds and the worst of the bugs. No one brought GPS. We were trying to keep it old school. Paper maps, compasses, and instinct. We were about three days in when this happened.
we camped on a flat shelf just off the trail it had rained the night before so we expected a bit of morning mist what we woke up to was something else entirely the fog was thick but it wasn't moving it didn't roll or lift with the sun it just sat there still and dense like it was pinned in place I couldn't see more than 15, maybe 20 feet in any direction. No birds, no bugs, no wind.
Just the damp and the silence. Even when I called out to Liam, who was only 10 feet away, my voice sounded muffled, like we were talking through insulation. He was poking at the fire pit, trying to get a flame going. Caroline stood near the edge of camp, watching the trees like they might start moving. We all tried to play it cool. Mist happens, right? We packed up slow, hoping it would clear.
That's when we heard it. Laughter. High-pitched. Definitely kids. At first just one giggle, then a few more, like a group playing tag just out of sight. We froze. I mean, we were deep in the woods, miles from any road or shelter. There shouldn't have been anyone else, let alone children. Ray said maybe it was a scout group. Josh shrugged.
Weird, but not impossible, he said, but even he sounded uncertain. Then the kids appeared, eight of them, pale, silent, walking in a line, with one tall figure behind them that I assumed was an adult. They didn't say anything at first, just moved past us, right through our camp, like they didn't see us or didn't care.
Their clothes were old-fashioned, muted grays and browns, buttoned up all the way to the neck. No bags, no water, no gear. They didn't look dirty, just… off. One of the girls stopped and turned to us. Her head tilted a little too far, like she wasn't used to how necks were supposed to work. "'Where are you going?' she asked. Liam, always the smartass, said, "'Heading north, through hiking the AT.'
The girl blinked. Her lips twitched like she was trying to smile but didn't remember how. "'This isn't the Appalachian Trail,' she said. Then she turned and kept walking. The rest followed. The tall figure, hooded, face hidden, brought up the rear. And then they were gone, back into the fog. We just stood there.' No one said anything for a long time.
Eventually, Ray muttered, Okay, that was messed up. Caroline wanted to pack up and go back south. Liam said we should keep going. I didn't know what to think. Part of me figured it had to be some kind of elaborate prank, or we'd stumbled into a film crew or a live-action thing. But deep down, something didn't feel right. We voted. Three to two to push ahead.
It kept going. The last one was 2021, our year. I don't scare easy, but that made my stomach drop. No one talked much after that. We kept moving, but the air felt heavier, like the forest was holding its breath. It never got brighter.
The fog stayed with us the whole day, and the worst part, every so often, faint and distant but unmistakable, we kept hearing that laughter, just behind the trees, never ahead of us, always behind. By late afternoon, none of us were talking. The fog hadn't let up at all. We kept waiting for it to burn off like normal, but it just hung there. Thick, still, and cold.
The kind of cold that settles into your clothes and never leaves. We hadn't seen another blaze in hours. No mileage markers, no trail junctions, nothing.
it felt like we were walking in circles even though we stuck to a straight line as best we could we tried checking our compasses but they were all giving slightly different bearings josh said it was probably a mineral deposit but even he didn't sound confident Around dusk, we heard the kids again. Laughter. Same pitch, same cadence. Too close. It was different this time. Closer and sharper.
It would pop up to the left of us, then to the right, then straight ahead. Like they were circling us, following us, not playing anymore. Josh stopped and pointed at a tree ahead. Carved into the bark was a spiral. Not a normal one. It was jagged and uneven, almost like it was scratched in with something sharp. Inside the spiral were eight small stick figures.
Liam leaned in close, then backed away fast. They're all missing eyes, he muttered. We were losing it. Caroline wanted to set up camp before dark. Ray agreed, said hiking blind in fog was a bad idea. We found a spot near a rock wall, not ideal, but at least we had our backs covered. We set up quickly and agreed to keep watch in pairs. That night, I barely slept. I was on second watch with Ray.
Around one in the morning, we realized we hadn't heard Josh in a while. His tent was zipped but empty. No gear, no pack, no sign of him walking off. He didn't snore like usual, wasn't even rustling around. We started calling for him, first quietly, then louder. No response. Caroline joined us, barefoot, flashlight in one hand, knife in the other.
We didn't go far, just twenty yards from camp, when we saw him. He was standing perfectly still in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by eight tiny piles of rocks. Each pile was stacked exactly the same. Three stones on the bottom, one small flat stone on top. The same eight pattern from before. Josh wasn't moving. Eyes open, but blank, pale. He looked right through us.
When I called his name, he finally spoke. They showed me the real path. That's all he said. Then our flashlights all cut out at once. no flicker no warning just dead everything went pitch black and the fog got thicker i swear to god i heard something exhale not a person not an animal it was low and long and sounded wrong like it didn't come from lungs branches snapped all around us
Ray grabbed Josh and we dragged him back to camp, stumbling the whole way. Liam was standing by the fire pit, holding a flare he hadn't lit yet. We got the tents zipped, huddled up, knives out. No one slept. When the light started coming back the next morning, I unzipped the tent. We were right back in that same clearing. Same piles of rocks.
But now one of them had a small rotted child's shoe placed neatly on top. That's when Caroline lost it. She sat down, shaking, muttering that we needed to get off this trail immediately. Liam said we should retrace our steps, but that was impossible. We had no idea where we were. Josh didn't say a word. He just stared at the shoe. We tried to move fast that morning. No breakfast.
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