The world is cloaked in shadows and secrets,
a place where the unknown breathes just beneath the surface. No one truly knows what exists out there.
Some believe in God.
Some deny His existence.
Some whisper about ghosts, demons, and devils...
but most of them laugh it off as fantasy.
Yet long ago, a few swore they had seen them
Gods that weep. Devils that smile. Spirits that scream.
Their stories were buried along with them,
discarded by a world too afraid to believe.
But here's the question no one wants to ask:
Are these truly just myths or have we simply turned our eyes away from something real?
Because somewhere,
in a forgotten place,
the old things still move freely.
In the 1980's, There was an 17 years old boy named Yeos live in a small village. He grew up poor, not just "barely-getting-by" poor, but the kind of poor that makes people ignore him completely.
No nice clothes. No birthday parties.
And definitely no real friends.
His family had moved out to the countryside in England. supposedly looking for peace and cheaper living. But all it brought him was silence and judged.
The kids in school kept their distance from him. Some looked down on him.
Others simply didn't notice or care that he existed.
That kind of loneliness… it does things to people minds.
Over time, he developed anxiety.
But worse than that, he started laughing at the wrong times.
When things got tense, when danger was near - he'd smile.
When people screamed… sometimes, he'd chuckle.
Not because he wanted to.
Because something in his mind broke a little and never quite healed. He was never liked and loved by classmate rather he spend most of his time by playing alone.
People whispered behind his back.
"That kid's weird."
"Probably psycho."
"Don't talk to him; just in case."
So he kept to himself.
He got used to the silence.
Used to being invisible.
But being invisible also meant seeing things no one else noticed.
The place he lived in was peaceful on the outside. But anyone who stayed long enough started to feel it, that strange heaviness in the air. That silence that wasn't just silence.
That fog that never fully cleared.
The locals never talked about it directly.
But everyone knew.
This town was infamous for urban legend...
There were rumors that, Many strange creatures were lurking in the woods.
The people kept disappearing without a trace overnight. There was someone watching you in the forest, if you walked home alone.
They said if you heard footsteps behind you on an empty road…
don't look back.
After finishing the school as always,
he walked home alone , the road was empty, full of fog. The streetlamps had flickered again. That was the third time this week.
He looked around. No one. Just fog.
He sighed and whispered "Great. Just me and the legendary ghost that eats loners at midnight.
Perfect setting for a dumb horror movie. And I'm the guy who dies first."
The fog was thicker than usual that night.
Streetlamps barely lit the road, casting long shadows across the wet pavement.
He walked with his hands in his pockets,
The silence felt... heavier than normal.
Then, he saw it.
Across the street — near the graveyard wall.
A large, black shape. Low to the ground. Unmoving.
He squinted his eyes,
"Please be a trash bag. Please be a trash bag... or a really sad sheep."
The shape lifted its head. Then he saw two glowing red eyes stared right at him.
He froze at the moment.
"...Yup. Not a trash bag."
The figure didn't move.
Neither did he.
Then — it took one slow step forward.
His brain screamed:
> Nope nope nope–