Explore stories tagged with cryptidlegend on Nightscribe and discover reads shaped by this mood, theme, or genre.
On the morning of Tuesday the 16th of December 2025, I took a dead woman off the stones below the Old Cross at Ardboe.
It was a dark, foggy night, as it really should be whenever something eerie happens. I was walking from my dad’s house over to my mom’s. I’d had a fight with my dad about something, the topic of which I’ve since forgotten, and realized at 17 years old that I was old enough and capable enough to walk alone back to my mom’s house, instead of stewing in my room at dad’s. Besides, both of my sisters were asleep already, so I wasn’t worried about them not getting their homework done or needing help…
“I still have nightmares about my mother,” I told my friend Zack on a frigid October night in downtown Mystic. “She’s running through the Darién jungle from a man dressed head to toe in camouflage. His face is shadowy and deformed. I can’t see my mother’s face, but I can hear her scream.” Zack’s face was as pale as mine, flushed with goosebumps. “I…don’t know what to say.”
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