Estimated reading time — 19 minutes

I hesitate to even post this. I’ve never been a big “believer” – not in religion, higher powers, karma, or fate. I considered myself a cynic (and that’s coming from a high school junior, which is saying something). I certainly never believed in the supernatural.I say that because you need to know I’m not tinfoil hat – nor do I want attention. Before this summer, I had never heard of a “cryptid.” All I’ve seen online are hoaxes, AI-generated videos, and stories too ridiculous to have any credibility. So, here I am, writing to you, to relay what I know – in case anyone else searches for answers like I had to. I hope that’s not the case, but I can’t imagine what my family and I experienced is an isolated incident.

My family lives in South Jersey, in an area called the Pine Barrens. Most people don’t think of “forest” when they hear “New Jersey,” but there it is. In the nation’s most densely populated state, a big, sandy, pine-filled wasteland blot takes up over twenty percent. Growing up here, I’m used to the barren soil, the water in lakes and streams running brown from cedar, and prickly, impenetrable underbrush amongst the trees. I grew up in a happy household, in a modest craftsman home, and I guess the desolation of the woods surrounding it never bothered me much before. That is, until this summer.

The plan had always been for me to get a summer internship or find a community service position to beef up my college resume. That didn’t happen. We lost Mom in a car accident back in January. Black ice, a city driver on rural roads…you get it. That doesn’t excuse my choices, and I only say it as I think it’s needed contest for what happened next.

So, there I was, spending my days playing video games or doomscrolling, and spending my nights sneaking out to drink with friends. I wasn’t a big drinker before, but I found the more I did it, the more I wanted. A lot of days I slept until noon, lazed around the house, just to be ready to go out again after dark.

I think, looking back, that was the start of everything. One night, about a dozen of us were down by The Quarry. One of my friends had rigged his four-wheeler to tow a fold-up table, stacked with racks of Natty Light, covered in two layers of tarp. We had a pong table going, plenty of beer. Those of us not playing pong were sitting around a makeshift fire ring. The moon was full and the water reflected off the lake. It was a good night. I needed to piss, so I got up and walked a few feet into the woods. I remember swaying on my feet a little and realizing that I was more buzzed than I thought.

That’s when I heard it.It was distant. A wailing. I was caught off-guard. I zipped up my pants and listened. At first, I thought it was a fox (their calls sound like a baby crying). But it felt like it was more. There were layers to it, complexity. The sound seemed to get close, and as it did, it changed. The louder it got, the softer it sounded in my ears. Like a whisper. I looked down and to my surprise, I’d taken a few steps further into the woods. I shook my head, trying to sober up. I turned to go back to the party. The second I did, twigs snapped. I whipped around but saw nothing. I grabbed my phone and turned the flashlight on. I peered into the dim spotlight, scanning the trees. Stillness. Then suddenly, something moved. A branch snapped into the air, as if something had been holding it. And then a flash of something off-white disappeared behind a tree.

I booked it back to the party. I thought to yell at whoever tried to scare me, but my friends were all there where I’d left them. I stopped drinking. When we called it a night, I didn’t walk the usual path back to the street where I left my bike tied up. I told my friend I was too drunk and hitched a ride on the back of his four-wheeler.

That night, the dreams began.They lasted three days. They were always the same: my mom, clothed in light, smiling, happy. She told me she knew how sad I’d been, how lonely. She promised me we’d be a family, like before. I was never able to speak back. I just listened to her promises over and over.The first night, I woke up to find myself sitting upright in my bed. I had tears in my eyes. I thought it was a sweet dream. Her face had looked so real, her voice so comforting. I stayed awake for a bit, afraid of how it made me feel, how it made me think about things I had tried very hard not to. Eventually I drifted off. The second night, I slept through the night, only dreaming of her. I woke up the next morning kneeling by my bedroom window. I don’t know how long I’d been there.

The rest of that second day, I couldn’t shake the feeling of the dream: the reassurance, the love, the warmth of those promises. It made me irritable towards my dad and little sister. At the time, I couldn’t have articulated why, but now I see: it angered me to look at my life and see the emptiness, the gulf beneath the family. I knew that deep down that I’d pushed them away, but I was angry at them. I couldn’t begin to untie the knot of emotions in my head. That day, all I could do was be angry at the world.

The third night eventually came and brought the dream with it. But something had changed. My mom, my sweet, caring, selfless mom and her promises to be together as a family – it infuriated me. Instead of the warm, cozy feeling from before, rage boiled up inside me until even my subconscious couldn’t contain it.“You are gone! You aren’t coming back! So SHUT UP!”

I woke up yelling those words. I was on my feet, looking out my window into the dark. I waited, making sure I didn’t wake anyone, before getting back in bed. I stared at the ceiling for a long time. Mom was gone. She wasn’t coming back. Maybe it was OK to be absolutely pissed off about that. At some point, I drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

I now believe that that night, the night the dreams stopped, was the night I damned my little sister.

I’ll call her “Chloe” because I don’t want to expose our identities. Chloe was the name of a doll she doted on and played with all the time, so it feels right. Chloe is the spitting image of my mom; I don’t think she got a drop of my Dad’s DNA. She’s intelligent, curious, and unflappably sweet. She was probably my parents’ favorite, and I don’t say that with any jealousy. She was their “miracle baby” who came 9 years after me, when my parents thought another kid wasn’t in the cards. I liked being a big brother, when things were still the way they were supposed to be. But since the accident, I wasn’t there for her. I can admit that now, even if I couldn’t at the time.

A couple days after my dreams ended, my dad’s car broke down and had to be brought to the shop. We had another car, an old POS that my grandpop left us, but my dad didn’t trust it enough to drive to and from Philly every day. I argued with him, telling him to just get a rental, which of course led to a lecture about how hard he was working for the family. Which, of course, led to him grilling me about my lack of internships, community service, or even a summer job. I don’t remember exactly what I yelled back at him, I truly don’t, but when I saw the look on his face, I knew I’d gone too far. I couldn’t say sorry or that I didn’t mean it. I just went off to my room. Later, I simply told him that I’d do what he asked.

That’s how I started dropping Dad off at the train station early in the morning, then driving straight to Chloe’s summer camp for drop off. That was the first time in a while I’d been with my sister without TV or phones or video games to distract. I don’t know why that made me so uncomfortable.

“I heard you and Dad fighting again. What did you do this time?” she asked, quite genuinely, no judgment.

“Don’t worry about that. It was nothing.”

“Was it about-“

“Hey, c’mon, Chloe. I said drop it.”

We drove in silence after that. I pulled up to her summer camp. I got out and opened her door for her, helping her stand down and get her backpack on. I turned to go.

“What can only happen after a rainstorm?” she asked out of nowhere.

I whipped around. The words hit me like a cheap shot I didn’t see coming. Looking down at Chloe, still standing there, I knew she didn’t intend it to land the way it did. She wanted something from me, something that I refused to give.

“C’mon, camp is starting. All your friends are already circling up around the counselor. Go. Go have fun.”

I didn’t think anything could hurt worse than her question had, but I was wrong. The look she gave me in that moment was definitely worse.

That night, we got pizza delivered from the shop down the street. Dad was never much of a cook. Dad tried to ask about Chloe’s day at camp, but she was quieter than usual. He tried some lame jokes to cheer her up, but she wasn’t having it. She went up to her room early. When my dad looked to me, I just shrugged.

Laying on my bed, I got a text from a friend asking me if I wanted to go down the shore with some people. I told him about having to drive my dad to work. He called me lame but said he could squeeze in some League of Legends tonight. I logged on. I didn’t realize how long we played, but when I finally powered down, it was after two in the morning. I was starving, so I creeped out of my room and was about to tiptoe downstairs for a snack – when I heard it.

That creepy sound. The soft wail/whisper I’d heard that night by The Quarry. I crept back into my room and looked out the window. It wasn’t a bright night, so I couldn’t make out anything moving. I opened the window. The sound grew louder. It felt close.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I quickly popped the screen off my window and climbed out onto the roof. I sat there, listening. The wailing was so close now. And not in front of me.I slowly turned my head. On all fours, I climbed up to the roof’s apex. Looking down, I saw something… wispy, white, like a shredded flag slowly whipping in the wind. Just a few inches of it. I knew whatever it was part of was in front of Chloe’s window.

I eased myself down onto the other side of the roof, inching closer. I needed to know if I was just losing my mind. Six feet away from being able to see around the corner. Five. Four. Then, the wail came, louder than ever. I slipped on the roof, sliding, only barely managing to flip over and steady myself on my stomach. I scrambled up to the top of the roof and looked back.

Nothing there.I hustled back down and into my room, closing the window as slowly as I could. Just in time to see my dad fling open his door and turn the hallway lights on.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know. A big raccoon maybe? Startled me awake!”

He looked at me, maybe suspecting, but nodded and went back to bed. I closed my blinds that night and didn’t sleep much.

On the morning ride to the train station, my dad speculated on what it might’ve been. To both our surprise, Chloe didn’t know what he was talking about. She claimed to have slept through the entire thing. We dropped my dad off, said goodbye, but as we pulled out, I couldn’t help myself.

“You really slept straight through all that noise? You didn’t hear anything? Nothing…coming from outside?”

She shook her head. “I was having the best dream. I guess I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh? What was so good about it?”

“Mommy. She was just smiling, talking to me. It felt nice. Really nice.”

Hearing those words, cold needles prickled my skin. I couldn’t form words. Chloe turned away, hurt from my lack of response. I parked the car and moved by rote, opening the door, helping her down, fixing her backpack.

I got back in the car, feeling uneasy. Afraid. Why? Because we both had the same dream? Because I thought I saw something in the dark? Maybe it was all just in my head. Trauma does strange things, people told me. But at that moment, I knew it was time to find out one way or the other.

First, I stopped home to grab my stash of cash. It was all the tips I’d made last summer, some allowance from yardwork for my dad, and left over change from when Dad left money for our dinner when he worked late. Then I drove to Cherry Hill, an upscale suburb of Philly, where there’s a Best Buy. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t order online, but desperate times…I talked to a guy there, figured out the best option I could afford: Google Nest, a 3 pack of cameras, which was on sale but still wiped out all my cash.

I spent the day setting them up on the roof. One directly over Chloe’s window. The other two strategically placed to cover 180 degrees of that side of the house. I connected them to my PC remotely, got the live feeds up and running, and adjusted the cameras until I was satisfied. I put away the tools I’d used and went to go pick up Chloe and my dad.

I excused myself early from dinner, saying I told friends I’d be online to play a game. On my way upstairs, I snagged some Wawa iced green tea and a bag of Doritos. I shut myself in my room and posted up in front of my monitor with my Bose noise cancelling headphones on. By my side, I had an old baseball bat that I’d found in the garage. By midnight, the tea and chips were decimated. I got up from time to time to pace, staying awake. But sometime, maybe an hour later, I must’ve drifted off.

I awoke later to voices. Groggy, it took a minute to process. It was the wail, though now it was much more human, much softer, more the whisper. I couldn’t make out any words. Then, I heard a response. Chloe’s voice, muffled but recognizable. I stared at the monitors, seeing nothing.Then- one by one, they went static.

I ran out of my room, throwing open Chloe’s door, and stopped in shock. Chloe was kneeling by the window, unmoving, looking up.

“I miss you so much, Mommy,” her little voice whispered.

She was kneeling in front of a woman in a shimmering, clean white dress. I couldn’t make out her face…but it looked like her.

I turned on the lights. And that changed everything.

I will never forget the first time I saw its real form. It’s seared into my memory. It crouched on the roof, just outside the window. It wore a white dress, if you can call it that. Ragged, torn, dirty, so worn it seemed thinner than silk, and abnormally wide, obscuring the creature’s full size. Its long, black hair covered its shoulders and hung to the waist. Its arms were unnaturally long, like an ape’s. One was outstretched, its nails like claws scratching on the glass softly. Like a caress.

I screamed Chloe’s name. I found my courage and ran for my sister. I hugged her, dragging her away from the window. She woke up, yelling, frightened, trying to get away from me.

My dad appeared in the doorway, turning the lights on. “What are you doing to her?!”

“Chloe…Chloe, tell him what happened. Tell him what you saw.”

Chloe curled up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I was sleeping. I woke up and he was dragging me on the floor.”

I’ve never seen a look like that on my dad’s face. I was terrified. But he simply said, “Explain yourself.”

“There was something outside Chloe’s window. She was sleepwalking. It could’ve gotten her. I was protecting her.”He stepped up and looked me in the eyes. “Are you high?”

“What? No! I don’t do any drugs. Are you serious?”

“Go to your room. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” With that, he went to Chloe. I stood there, watching him comfort her and get her back in bed. I walked to back to my room shaken, mind whirling.

What else could I do but try to find some explanation for what I’d just seen? I logged in. I went down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, not knowing what I was looking for, not having any point of reference for what I’d experienced. I’ve poured over Reddit, Google, every social media platform. I found videos of “monsters” that all seemed to be ripoffs of bigfoot, chupacabras, vampires…silly stuff. AI, hoaxes, unserious. I finally stumbled onto some videos of “cryptid sightings” on IG, and I had no idea what it meant. I looked deeper. This felt the closest I had some to something resembling, behaving like what I saw. But there were no real, credible people saying they knew anything more than the posts hinted at. I feel asleep in my chair, hunched over my phone.

In the morning, I came down the stairs sheepishly. I heard my dad’s raised voice. Was he already starting to rail at me for whatever he thought I did? To my surprise, I realized he was in his office, door closed, arguing with someone. Then silence. His door opened and he saw me. Me waved for me to come in. I faced him, preparing to stick up for myself.

He kept his voice down. “I have bad news.”

“Is Chloe OK?”“She’s fine. She’s eating breakfast right now. Listen to me. My colleague bailed on an energy conference in New York. Claims he’s sick. I told him now isn’t a good time, but the boss is buying his ‘illness’ story and I’ve got to go in his place. I take the train up to New York today and stay overnight. I’ll be back afternoon tomorrow.”

“I really don’t think it’s a good-“

He raised his hand, cutting me off. “I need you right now. I need you at your best. I don’t know if you’re drinking, smoking, or what. Last night you scared your sister half to death. Nothing like that can happen again. It’s one night. You’re her big brother. You need to be there for her. Look me in the eyes and promise me I can trust you.”

His words made sense, his reaction rational. But his assumption that I was the problem, that he put aside everything I said last night, made me furious. I bit my lip and responded, “I promise.”

“Good. Now go help your sister get ready for camp. I need to pack an overnight.”

We dropped him at the station, and he had no more words for me – just a stern look before walking off. Chloe and I didn’t talk on the rest of the drive, and she ran off as soon as the door was open. I drove the car towards town.We live on the outskirts of a township in the pines, but there is a small town in the center: Vincentown, NJ. A little village with roots all the way back to Quaker settlers. Its small homes and quaint shops feel like they haven’t changed in a century. I pulled into the local library.

The librarian was an old man with very little hair and a hunch in his back. I told him I was doing research for a creative writing summer class and wanted to draw from local history. He pointed me to a section, and I grabbed as many titles that seemed promising. I couldn’t find anything specifically about local folklore, but I dove in, scanning the pages as fast as I could. I gave up after an hour or so.The old man noticed my frustration. “Need some help, son?”

“I guess the inspiration I was looking for… was more if bad things had been documented happening here.”

“Oh dear, are you writing a crime story?”

“Something like that. I’m wondering if there’s a history of people feeling unsafe in their homes. Or being taken.”

He pulled out a large, dusty book. “This contains some notable trial records from the past handful of decades.”

“Is there anything…more mysterious? Unexplained things happening to people living out in the woods?”

“Oh I see, if that’s the kind of thing you’re after, you’re in the wrong section! We’ve got a few books that talk about the darker parts of the area’s history, but they’ll be over here.”

As he led me into a back corner of the library, I couldn’t help but ask, “Darker parts?”

“Oh yes, some fascinating stuff. The town – or rather, village, as it was back then – had a different name in the late 18th century. Before Vincent Leeds bought the land, it was called ‘Brimstone Neck.’ People still to this day talk about renovating their old homes, finding hidden compartments with objects of the occult.”

“I had no idea.”

“And of course, that just deepens the stories around the origin of the Devil.”

“The Devil? Doesn’t the bible kind of lay his origin out there?” I said, confused.

“The Jersey Devil, son. You haven’t heard of the Jersey Devil?”

“I mean, I know the hockey team.”He laughed at me. “Are you sure you grew up here? You never heard the myth?” I shook my head. “The most common version is that a woman named “Mother Leeds” was pregnant with her 13th child. She claimed ‘I’m tired of children! Let it be a devil!’ …and so, when the child was born, it was a monster that flew out the window. For the last hundred years or so, people have all sorts of claims. It kills their livestock. It feeds on children. There have been sightings all over the Pine Barrens over the centuries. People say they see it in the woods, in the sky, outside their windows…”

I was rolling my eyes until the last phrase. “What else do they say?”

He pulled down a thin book and flipped through the pages. “Tons. Here’s one. John McOwen, 1909. Says he woke up in the night to his baby daughter crying. He went to her room, when he heard something outside. Quote: “sounded like the scratching of a phonograph before the music begins, and yet it also had something of a whistle to it…I looked from the window and was astonished to see a large creature standing on the banks of the canal, looking up in the window.’”

My heart was racing but my skin felt ice cold. “And…what kind of monster is it supposed to be?”

“Oh, there’s a million versions. Bat wings. Horse’s head. Cloved feet. Tail and horns like Satan. But every description is different. Silliness, but a fun part of local lore.”

“This could be great for my assignment. Are there any…more real-world explanations for what it could be?”

“Well, this one isn’t very fun…some local historians have theorized that Mrs. Leeds may have been the wife of Vincent Leeds. The man who bought this town and renamed it after himself. They have even intimated that his family was involved in the darker aspects of old Brimstone Neck…and the child Mrs. Leeds bore was cursed. Others think she just gave birth to a deformed child. Afraid of public judgment, they hid the child away, locked it in a cellar, treated it inhumanely. Until he or she ran away, escaping into the woods, starting the rumor of a ‘creature’ in the forest. Like I said, not as entertaining as the other tales.”

I stared at the old man, the gears turning in my mind.

One last question: “In the folklore, is there any way to kill the Jersey Devil?”

“No. Posses have been sent out. Many have claimed to shot the beast, one even with a cannonball…but no corpse has been brought back. If it was still alive, it’d be almost 300 years old. But that’s what legends are all about.”

“Thank you. This was helpful!” I ran out of the library before the old man could respond.

I rushed home. I grabbed the ladder and got up on the roof to look at my cameras. They weren’t damaged. Odd. I brought them inside. I hid one on top of Chloe’s shelf in a bunch of stuffed animals, facing towards the window. The other I faced out the sliding glass doors in the living room. The last I set up at the front door. I plugged them all into outlets, hoping that would make a difference. I was clutching at straws.I went to pick up Chloe. I didn’t know what to say to her, or how to tell her about the fears in my head. All I asked on the ride home was what she wanted for dinner. The minute we got in the door, she went to her room. I called the local deli and ordered us some hoagies as I tested the locks on every door and window. I hid Dad’s bat downstairs in the pantry, just in case.

The delivery guy came around 6p.m., and I double-checked the locks after he left. Dad called to check in. We told him everything was good and what we’d ordered. He said he was going to be going out with partners tonight and in early meetings tomorrow, but he’d see us when he got back in the afternoon. I hung up, and for the first time in a long time, I had this childish emotion that I really, really wanted my dad.I looked at Chloe. I wonder what must be going on in her head.

“Hey. I know things have been…weird. In a lot of ways. But I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to make things better. OK?”

“OK.”

Studying her, I realized just how shut down she’d been. I tried but couldn’t find the words. We ate in silence for a bit as the sun sank.

“I just feel like…it’s been raining a lot. And it doesn’t stop.”

My gut wrenched, my throat dried. “Yeah, I feel you. I really do.”

Needing an excuse, I got up and cleared the table. Chloe went to the couch and started WICKED on her iPad. I tried to keep busy cleaning, turning off my brain.

Halfway through loading the dishwasher, something made me pause. This was her favorite song. The part of the movie Chloe loved to sing along to. I looked up. Chloe was looking out the window again.

“Hey Chlo- you OK?” I walked over to her. As I got closer, I could see that her eyes were open but unseeing. Asleep.

The noise, the wail started. Remembering the old man’s words, I could understand how someone would describe it like static, like a whistle. It was many things. But it was not natural. Then Chloe spoke.

“I miss you so much. Things aren’t the same. I want to go back to being happy. To being a family.”

The noise fluctuated – or something, I don’t know – but I knew it for what it was: a response. I rushed to my sister and tried to shake her awake.

“Chloe, wake up! Chloe…it’s not her. It’s not Mom. Please…please wake up.”

Then the lights started to flicker. Everything going haywire. Then, blackness. No power.

I turned to the back door. The big sliding glass doors felt like no protection at all. The noise persisted in my ears. I backed away from the glass, scanning the back yard, until my hand found the pantry door. I opened it and grabbed the bat inside.

“Chloe, can you hear me? Chloe?” I turned to check on her.

She was gone.I opened a drawer, grabbing a flashlight. Holding the bat in one hand and the light in the other…I went outside.

“CHLOE!” I shouted as I ran into the yard, scanning the trees.

Then the voice again…but this time, it was coming from behind me.

I turned slowly, the flashlight helping me scan. Nothing. Then I looked up.

I saw my mother. She stood on the roof, hands on the glass, opening the window slowly. Chloe stood on the other side.

I raised the flashlight. The beam revealed the creature, even larger and more hideous than I’d realized before. Spindly, long limbs that dwarfed a condensed torso.I screamed back, “Stay away from her!”

It turned completely towards me, coiled like a snake ready to strike. I ran. I booked it for the door as the thing leapt twenty feet at least, barely missing me as it slammed into the ground behind me. I dove through the opening, slamming the sliding door behind me. It didn’t matter.

All I remember is the sound of shattering glass, Chloe screaming my name, and something hard hitting the back of my head.I woke up with blood in my hair. I fought my headache and searched the house, but I found so sign of Chloe.

I checked the security cams. It didn’t get anything of the attack, but I discovered it resumed the recording minutes after I was knocked out. The power must have come back on. And so, I have just a couple seconds, just a snippet, from the back door cam.

It shows Chloe calmly walking into the woods, like she’s following someone.

I’m writing this post now, trying to share our story, to warn people…because I don’t know what happens next.

I am guilty. Looking back, I think this thing wanted me first. That night at the party, it saw me. It gave me dreams, trying to lure me out into those woods. My anger, my instinct to push people away – that saved me. But it was also what pushed Chloe towards it instead. If I’d been a big brother…maybe she wouldn’t have been so lonely. Maybe she wouldn’t have walked away with a monster.

My dad’s train arrives in a few hours. Before then, I’m going back to the library. I’m going to try and figure out where this thing might live (if you can call it alive) and where it might have taken my sister. I’m going to show my dad the footage and convince him someone’s taken her. And if he believes me, trusts me enough, then I’ll bring him with me when I go try and save Chloe.

I don’t have any answers about what this thing is, where it really came from. I just want people to know that it’s out there. It has been for a long time. And if this thing is real, then who knows what else is real. Who knows what other “local folklore” and “ghost stories” come from things that are in our world, that defy logic, that are waiting just outside your house.

I’ll leave you with this. My mom’s favorite phrase, anytime one of us kids was sad, she’d say, “Rainy days happen. Sometimes big old storms never seem to end. But you know what can only happen after a rainstorm? A rainbow.”

I’m determined to save my sister. To do things right this time around. I hope I can show her that there’s a rainbow coming.

Take it from me: hold your loved ones tight. Let them know what they mean to you.

I only have a few hours left, so I need to sign off. There’s a lot to do.

I don’t know if my family survives the night. But I’ll let you know if we do.

Credit: J.D. Loeber