Something’s Watching Me from the Tree Line

I’ve been working as a firewatch on the edge of the Appalachian Mountains in Tennessee for the past year. Quiet job, beautiful views, and plenty of solitude. Perfect for someone like me. But something happened last week that I can’t shake.

It started with the sound. I was doing a late night patrol near the trailhead, just a quarter mile from the tower. The forest out here has its own rhythm. Owls hooting, leaves rustling in the wind, but that night, it all stopped. No wind, no animals, just silence. Then, clear as day, I heard whistling.

Not a bird, either. It was deliberate, almost like a tune someone was trying to play. But it didn’t make sense. Nobody hikes out here at night, especially not in this season. I called out, “Hey, anyone out there?” Nothing. Just the whistle, slow and steady, coming from the trees.

I backed up toward the tower, flashlight in hand. That’s when I saw it. Something tall, pale, and hunched. It was standing just inside the tree line, watching me. I don’t know how else to describe it except...wrong. Too thin, arms too long, and its head was tilted like it was trying to figure me out.

I bolted back to the tower, locked the door, and stayed up all night. Around 3am, I thought I was imagining things when I heard scratching at the base of the tower. Three long, deliberate drags, like nails on a chalkboard. I shined my spotlight down, but whatever it was had already vanished.

The next morning, I found footprints in the dirt. They weren’t human. Five toes, yes, but elongated, like something that hadn’t walked upright in a long time.

I radioed HQ, but no one’s answered since yesterday morning. Tonight, I’m heading out to the trail again, toward an old shed where we keep emergency supplies. Maybe there’s a logical explanation. Maybe someone’s messing with me.

If I find anything, or if I make it back, I’ll let you guys know what’s going on.