Boar

I’ve been hunting for years now. I would say that I live and breathe hunting. There’s something about being in the wild, setting up stealthily, and waiting for your prey to wander close enough to take action. Waiting hours for a brief moment of action is exhilarating.

Although I would love to hunt all the time, I don’t make a living from it. I have a family to provide for. So, my hunting is limited by my work, my family, and the seasons. But every moment I can, I will take the opportunity to hunt.

It was boar season, and I’d been eyeing a new night vision scope for my rifle. My hunting friends and I prefer hunting boar at night and this year, I wanted to upgrade my gear. I ordered it months ago, and it finally came in that week, perfect timing before the weekend, where I had plans to hunt.

However, due to everyone’s schedule, instead of starting on the Friday, the day the events took place, we made plans instead on the Saturday and Sunday evening. Although we made those plans to work with everyone’s schedule, I had no plans that Friday night. So, I decided to do some solo hunting that Friday evening to try out my new scope.

I brought all my gear to work so I could head straight to my spot at the end of my shift. I didn’t want to stay out too late—I wanted to make sure I was back home at a decent time to make sure I’m rested for the rest of the weekend. So, when work ended, I hopped in my truck and headed to our hunting spot. It was about an hour drive, and although I’ve been there many times, I was hoping to scout out a few spots while testing the new scope.

When I arrived at the location, I turned off the main paved road onto a dirt road leading into the forest. There, I was able to park my truck and set off. I decided to begin with my usual spot, where I can get myself organized and try out some of my equipment. By the time I was ready to scope out the area, nightfall had already set in.

With my new scope, I started testing its limits. Time flew by that I forgot about my goal of searching for new areas. It was already getting late and I wanted to make sure I explored a bit before I headed back. I decided to start moving. I moved slowly and carefully to not be noticed by the wildlife, just in case I spotted something like an animal, specifically, a boar. While trekking, I came across a spot that looked promising — a good vantage point with good visibility.

I made it to the spot and began to look around. As I was checking my surroundings, I could hear something faint, not too far from me. It was hard to tell what it was. I remained alarmed as I kept scouting around. However, the noise was getting louder, and moving — moving in my direction. I waited, focusing on listening. Then I heard it clearly.

It sounded like a young woman pleading for help.

My stomach dropped and my heart started racing. What was she doing in the middle of a forest, at night, during hunting seasons? My instincts told me to run towards her and help her. But, something else told me to resist the urge and proceed with caution.

The voice, in short increments, kept repeating the same words: “Help me.” Looking through my scope, I was looking in the direction of the voice. I scouted the entire area and couldn’t see anyone or anything. A dark feeling crept over me, and my eagerness to find this person sharpened into desperation. I started to carefully maneuver myself to get a different angle. Then, I spotted something with my scope. It looked like a small mass of some sort, but it was wobbling, moving almost in my direction.

Was it a boar? I wondered, but boars don’t talk. Maybe another animal got hold of a girl and dragged her into the forest? I kept going through scenarios in my head, but all of them were absurd and didn’t make sense. All I knew was that someone was crying for help, and I needed to help them. As I heard another cry for help, I bent to my knee to stabilize my position. But, mid-sentence, I cracked a twig, and the cry was cut short.

There, through my scope, I could see two glossy eyes staring at me. It was not a boar, it was not any other animal, it was not human.

It had a humanoid shape, no fur, no hair, skinny, and down on all fours.

Its head tilting at an angle that felt instinctual — like something listening, locking on.

I was trying to stay as still as possible while keeping my eye on it through the scope. It wasn’t moving, and neither was I.

It rotated its head back to center, with its big gleaming eyes still facing my direction. Then its mouth opened. A young girl’s voice came out. ‘Help me.’

This thing was mimicking human voices.

Then it dawned on me—it was luring me. At that point I knew I was in danger. This thing was a predator and it’s hunting for people. I knew I had to get out.

While keeping an eye on it through the scope, I tried to make my way to the trail and to follow it back to my truck. It was difficult to navigate while watching where I was going, staying quiet, and keeping an eye on this thing. I had to leave, but I couldn’t be too hasty and make noise. I moved in fragments: a few steps toward the trail, then back to face the thing, then the trail again. I was making my way back, little by little. It was eerie since the thing didn’t move, it was so still, just crying out for help. A few minutes went by like this and as I was making my way, I turned to look at it, and it was gone. Not a sound, and nowhere in sight.

I began to panic.

I didn’t know where it went. Had it seen me? Was it coming, or had it slipped away? The silence made me think it was the latter.

I decided to take one more look around and if I couldn’t see it, it was time to run. However, as I was looking at the spot I was scouting out, I could see it. It was there, crawling around in circles, smelling the area like a hound dog. Nervous, I quickly began to continue to make my way to the trail as I watched it sniff around. And then suddenly, without making a noise or anything, the thing’s head shot up and it was looking directly at me. I’m not sure how, but I bet my life in that moment that it knew where I was. I had no choice but to run.

I turned around and ran as fast as I could. I made to the trail and began to follow it to my truck. As I was running, I can hear shuffling in the forest beside me. I turned to look and I can see the humanoid creature running on all four parallel to me. Its eyes were locked on to me.

In a moment of panic, I took out my side pistol in desperation while running, turned the safety off, and shot a round in the ground. I saw the creature jump high in the air and away from me. Hoping that I scared it enough, I continued to run to my truck as I watched all around me, trying to see if that thing is still after. I couldn’t hear it or see it.

I made it to my truck, threw everything I had in the trunk, and jumped into the driver seat. I immediately locked the doors, my hands shaking as I fumbled for the ignition. I took a deep breath to calm down, and listened—dead silence. I gently slid the key in the keyhole, and turned my truck on. With the roar of the engine killing the silence, my headlights turned on and in front of me was a slouched, tall, skinny, bald, humanoid figure standing on its two feet starting at me with its big unblinking eyes. Its head cocked to the side, its jaw dropped nearly a foot, and a long, horrifying screech tearing from its throat.

I was so scared my fight or flight mode kicked in. I turned the gear to drive and pressed heavily onto the gas, accelerating right to it. Just before we made contact, it darted out of the way. I kept driving, but when I looked back, this thing was slouched on its side, just staring back at me with the reflection of my red backlights in its eyes.

I drove until the darkness swallowed everything behind me. When I finally hit the main road, I didn’t slow down. I didn’t breathe right until I saw streetlights.

I never went hunting that weekend. My friends asked why I bailed and I told them I wasn’t feeling well. I never told them the truth — I’m not sure I could say it out loud without sounding like I’d lost my mind.

I still hunt. But never at night. Never alone.

I don’t know what that thing was. I don’t know how it mimicked that voice, or why it was out there, or whether it’s still out there now. What I do know is that it was hunting too — and that night, I was the prey.