About Horror in The Pines: True Encounters of the Unexplainable. August Phineus
‘As I turned to leave, I caught sight of something that made my heart pound against my ribcage. A journal lay haphazardly on the ground, its pages yellowed with age, ink smeared as if in haste. Against my better judgment, I flipped it open. The handwriting was erratic, full of exclamation points and frantic scribbles. “I hear them every night. The whispers. They know. They see me. It’s too late. They’re coming for me…”
‘My breath caught, eyes wide. I stumbled, falling to the ground, pain searing through my knees. Scrambling back to my feet, I saw it—just for a moment. A figure obscured by the trees, its gait inhuman, elongated limbs that stretched impossibly. Its face was a void, shadows dancing where features should have belonged. I could feel its gaze piercing through the branches, devouring my very soul…’
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August Phineus