Thunderbirds Are Go

Range of Horror

by Lee Homer

Disclaimer: All rights reserved, Inspired immensely by the true events of the famed Skinwalker Ranch in Utah, I wanted to write a small horror story that was originally intended for this year's Halloween Special, but I was worried that I'd lose the story ideas by then. Reviews are welcome and I hope you enjoy them!

Day #03

Alan's Statement.

I remember being very skeptical of my Brother's experiences when I arrived at the ranch. I mean, I love a good scary story, but the power of social media and the internet kinda killed the genre for me to the point I'd question what was real and what was fake. After all, anyone can tell a scary story, right? All you need is imagination and the creative genius to craft a spooky scenario. Something that can trick your brain into thinking that it happened. Initially, I thought this was the case for Scott, Kayo and Grandma. You see, when I arrived at the ranch with Virgil and Gordon, the three of us didn't feel or experience anything. There wasn't anything wrong with the vibe, we heard no unexplained sounds and witnessed no shadow creatures. We even joked about the idea that they had been huffing toxic fumes from Grandma's cookies. Boy, we were so naive.

When we arrived, we were immediately put to work, running tests on Thunderbird Two. I won't delve too much into the technicals, but Brains constructed new engines to help enhance her take-off speed. The airspace surrounding the ranch was the perfect spot to test them out. The day flew by until the sun began to set over the horizon. Gordon and I sat out on the porch, relaxing after our hard work. We joked about the day and decided it would be a fun idea to exchange ghost stories. It felt harmless to us, although Scott didn't find it amusing. We went to bed around midnight, expecting to encounter some kind of weird activity. We may have joked about the subject, but I would be lying if I told you that Scott's sincerity didn't pique my interest. I lay there in bed, waiting in anticipation. To my disappointment, nothing happened.

After a peaceful uninterrupted sleep, Gordon and I were happy to hear that we weren't needed today, so we decided to go hiking up one of the trails that branched away from the ranch. A lot of these trails hugged the side of the rocky valley that encompassed the land. We packed a small bag of supplies to last us the trip, aiming to get back before sundown. It was an unusually overcast day, but we didn't let the ominous change in the weather deter us from our hike. We left the ranch that morning, opting to set off while the others were working. Gordon teased me with a race to the start of the trail and like an eager schoolboy, I accepted his challenge. We were pumped to do this. We hadn't gone on a hike since we were little. A short while later, we located the trail which was situated on the southeast side of the range. It was a small and spindly trail that hugged the side of the rock face to the top. The path itself was dangerously narrow, plagued with loose rocks. Gordon led the way.

We focused our eyes on the treacherous path beneath our feet, as we climbed the dusted boulders above us. The trail came to an abrupt stop beneath a ledge that clung to the side of the mountain. By this time, we had covered several miles within the space of an hour. I took a moment to catch my breath while Gordon searched for the rest of the path. As I looked out over the horizon, I could feel the wind pick up. It felt colder than before, so much so that I could feel my hairs stand up on end. I set down my bag and pulled out a hoodie. The moment I slipped it on, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps clawing into the rocks behind me. I dismissed it at first, figuring that Gordon had found the trail again, but as I turned to address him, I could see no one. I paused in silence to listen out for the sounds again when I jumped at a tap on my shoulder. I spun round to see Gordon standing there. He beamed a smile at me, noting the jittery look on my face.

"Hey, what's wrong bro?" he asked me.

"I thought I heard something walking on the rocks behind me.," I replied. "Are there any animals up here?"

Gordon shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. Come on, it was probably nothing. I found the trail again."

Nervously, I let my guard down and proceeded to head up the trail with my brother. I remained in a constant state of awareness after that. The sensation of being watched stabbed away at my paranoia. The more we climbed, the more I heard the sounds. We eventually arrive at an area that overlooked the ranch from its west side. It was a flat surface area of rock, with a perimeter covered in thick underbrush. We called it West-view Rock and decided to use it as our base for the next few hours. We sat there, eating snacks, playing video games and watching our favourite social media channels. It worked for me as a distraction from my ever-increasing nerves. When prepared to finish our break, something stopped us in our tracks. The sounds returned and this time, Gordon heard them.

"Someone's behind us!" he whispered as he slowly reached into his backpack. "Nobody should up here."

"I told you we weren't alone. " I replied, as I tried to steady my breathing.

My heart thumped wildly as I fumbled around in my bag. If someone had managed to stalk us up the rock face, then I was going to defend myself. I gripped my taser gun and kept it firmly on my person. While I was doing this, the sound of footsteps slowed as they disturbed the underbrush behind us. The sound that followed sent a shiver down my spine. A deep guttural growl echoed from within the underbrush. We both looked in the direction of the growl to see the thick, thistle bushes sway wildly in the breeze. Gordon reached for a rock and in a moment of stupidity, threw it at the unknown stalker. It reacted with a loud yelp, followed by an aggressive snarl. We leapt to our feet, bracing ourselves for a confrontation with a wolf or a bear. Instead, what we were about to see would change impact our lives in a way that we will never forget.

Two deep yellow eyes appeared through the thick brush. They stared at us with intent to harm. I instructed Gordon to run on my mark, but this thing had somehow trapped him there in fear. I half expected it to leap out of the brush towards us, but it did something unexpected. It rose upwards on its hind legs. It stood at an average height of seven feet. Its body was scrawny, and covered head to toe in thick brown fur. Its eyes were as yellow as the sun as its large, Stag like face flared its nostrils. It sported a pair of long, jagged antlers that protruded from its narrow cranium, My heart raced into overdrive as it waded through the brush towards us. As it stepped closer, I looked down at its feet. It was standing upright on two fur-covered hoofs. Just what the hell was this monstrosity? Where did it come from and what was it going to do to us? I had no intention of finding out. I grabbed Gordon, gripping his arm firmly and dragged him from his spot. He stumbled backwards slightly, but the sudden fall knocked him out of his trance. Confusion and fear swept over him. I could see it in his eyes. For the rest of this story, I'll refer to the creature as 'The Stag-Man.'

We quickly traversed the trail back down towards the valley. As we kicked up our legs, I shot frequent glances at the mysterious cryptid, expecting it to chase after us. It did, but only after it took the time to observe our behaviour. I guess it wanted to check us out before it could decide whether to eat us or not. When did come after us, it proceeded to do so on all fours. As I said, its lower legs had hoofs, but it had the arms of an athletic human being. Its long, claw-like fingers dug into the trail, scooping the dirt from under it as it propelled itself along. Being the athletic type ourselves, we managed to put a fair amount of distance between us and the Goat-Man. I tripped multiple times, tearing my clothes and cutting my legs to ribbons. Despite each painful drop, I had the adrenaline to keep going, to keep pushing towards safety. When we arrived at the first ledge, we skidded to catch our breath. It took the Stag-Man seconds to close the distance. We could hear it up on the trail above us. I looked up to see it around the corner where it then stopped. Its deep and heavy breaths pierced my cool and collected front. I was beyond petrified. We stared at it with incredulous eyes, as we anticipated its next move.

It stood there on the trail, grunting down at us in a threatening stance. It raised on its hind legs once again, raised its snout into the air and let out a deafening cry. Its shrieks thundered along the valley. It was so loud that the others could hear it from the ranch. With that, it returned to its predatory stance, picking up the chase again. At that moment, Gordon grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and threw me down the last leg of the trail. Together, we tumbled, hurtling down the unstable surface towards the valley opening. As we rolled, we gradually picked up momentum, the pain increased with each bump. After what felt like an eternity of pain, I landed in a heap of dust. Every bone in my body ached as if it had been crushed in a pressure chamber. Struggling to stand, I rolled over to face the trail above. The Stag-Man stood there, bearing its discoloured razor-sharp teeth at us. It looked down upon us with the most disturbing grin I had ever seen. It was a human reaction as if it was proud of what it had achieved. It took pleasure in scaring us stupid.

Gordon climbed to his feet and helped me stand. Together, we staggered home all the while the Stag-Man gloated at us with smaller rapid shrieks. Each step was agonising. Making it back to the relative safety of the ranch, my pain receptors gave in. I blacked out in the main hallway, surrounded by the rest of the family. I heard the faint voices of Scott and Grandma echo around me as the room swirled around me. My mind wandered as I bled out all over the sitting room floor. Had this been some sort of fever dream? Did we hallucinate it?

I awoke several hours later in my bedroom. It was now night time as the Moon shone brightly through my window, casting multiple shadows on the wall. The door opened revealing Scott's silhouetted figure on the other side. He switched on my bedside lamp and perched himself on the foot of my bed. I looked down at my battered body to see my torso covered in bandages. Scott looked down at me with a smile as he handed me a glass of soda.

"How are you feeling, little bro?" he asked me.

"As if I just woke up from a nightmare," I replied, still unable to determine if the incident happened or not. "How long was I out for?"

"You slept for three days," Scott explained. "We couldn't wake you. We were worried you weren't going to make it. We sent for a doctor to come and check you over. He said it looked like you took a fall up on the trail. What happened up there?"

I paused, worried that I had gone crazy from the ordeal and convinced that it had never happened. At that current moment, all I cared about was Gordon. Scott smiled again.

"Gordon's a little banged up but he's okay." he continued. "He told us what happened to you up there, but I wanted to hear it from you too."

I opened up and told him everything. I describe the events as vividly as I could. A mental image of the Stag-Man flashed before my eyes. Those yellow eyes, those hoofs, those antlers and that terrifying grin. After about ten minutes, the look on Scott's face began to shift. What I had told him, deeply disturbed him. I told him about the shrieking sound it made, which forced him to reply with a confirmation.

"We heard that sound too. It scared all of us. Once we heard that, we began to panic about you."

Rattled by these events, I looked up at him and asked; "What are we going to do?"

Silently, Scott lifted himself off the bed and gazed out of the window. The awkward silence had already answered my question. After a brief moment, he looked back at me and tensed.

"I don't know. Something is happening here. Something that we can't begin to explain or understand."

I agreed with him without saying a word. Scott left me there in the warm, solitary glow on my bedside lamp. Now that I had an experience of my own, it was safe to say that I would never doubt my brother again. I had been out for three days since that hike and would stay in recovery for a further two. In that time, strange things had started to happen in and around the property. Objects started to move around the house, the sound of footsteps creaked on the wooden decking outside. The phenomena escalated with each passing night. I never saw the Goat-Man again, but since that encounter, the activity here continued in more baffling and terrifying ways,