The Disappearance of Andrew Henning

MISSING PERSONS REPORT

[Mr Henning's face takes on a grimace here. Perspiration is visible and subject appears to tighten his grip on the chair]

If I'd known then, what I know now... Christ, I still should have run. Curiosity is a damned dangerous thing; I couldn't help myself. I saw a hole in the ground, about the size of a tall man. It was too angular, too regular to be natural. That damned curiosity drove me closer. I looked down and saw... Oh God, even now I don't know exactly what was in that hole.

Now, you have to understand, it was dark in that forest. There was a moon, sure, but it took a while to make out what was in that godforsaken hole. I was there for too long... far too long.

At first glance, the outline looked made it look human. It's why I kept looking as long as I did, trying to decide if someone needed help (Mr Henning snorts). The longer I looked, though, the more it became apparent that it couldn't be a human. As I began to pick out more and more details, I felt more and more uneasy.  Fear spread down my spine as I realised: whatever was in that hole, it was definitely not human.

The body was too large, too square. The arms were too long, and there was something wrong with the hands, I remember. I can barely remember the details, not after seeing its skin and...the face. I'd thought the skin was looking too dark, too... hard, I guess. I couldn't work it out until I stepped back and took in the whole body. This thing didn't have skin, it had a goddamned exoskeleton, like some giant bug! That's when I finally looked at the head. I think I'd avoided it before, like I knew that it couldn't be good for me.

[Mr Henning's eyes appear to focus on a spot above the camera at this point. His voice drops in pitch and picks up a hoarse quality.]

It's face... I can still feel its eyes on me. I don't even know if the thing was alive or dead. Thinking back, I can't remember seeing it move, but what the hell do I know? Its eyes, they were huge, the size of my hand. Staring straight at me. These weren't normal eyes, either, not human eyes. They looked like a fly's eye, facets gleaming. They were completely black and just.... staring at me. They sat above what I assumed was this things mouth, if it could be called a mouth. What looked like a dozen tiny fingers, ringing a circular hole.

It assaulted my senses, everything I could see screaming silently that it was wrong! The sight of it sent shivers of unbearable revulsion through me. The smell... I don't know how it took me so long to notice the smell. A pungent, sickly sweet scent. It clogged your nose, enveloped my head with a fetid stench. I ended up burning those clothes.

I can't tell you how long I stood there, eyes locked with the monstrous affront to nature. When I heard crunching in the distance, I managed to snap my out of my reverie. The crunching began to close in on me and I remember thinking about shouting, thinking it was another hiker like myself. I wanted them to see what I saw. To prove that I hadn't gone mad. The shout caught itself in my throat when I realised that it was the middle of the night. Who could be walking these woods at this time?

Then I heard them.

[Mr Henning begins to gentle rock.]

That awful, terrible, inhuman sound.

[Mr Henning begins sobbing]

It's haunted me for months now. At first, it was just in my dreams but then I started hearing it during the day. Just on the edge of my hearing... I thought I was going mad. But no... It was them. Outside my house. (Mr Henning begins shaking uncontrollably) Inside.

[Voice begins cracking]

That awful crackling. Buzzing. Almost below hearing. It bores into you, into your head, your mind.

[Mr Henning looks directly into the camera, eyes appear wide and bloodshot]

Do you have any idea what it's like, lying awake the entire night, straining your ears, trying to catch that buzzing. Hoping that you wake from the nightmare. The first week or so I still had believed, that tonight would finally be the night it stopped. Lying awake, hours that passed in silence found me feeling better. Maybe they wouldn't come this night, maybe that sound wouldn't burrow its way into my head. And then the buzzing would drift up, through the walls, through my door.

[A faint noise is heard. Mr Henning's gaze darts wildly. He rises from the chair and locks the door behind him, tugging to make sure it's locked. He seats himself and stares again into the camera.]

I know that can't stop them. Locks don't bother them... I know they've watched me sleep. When the exhaustion climbs higher than the terror, I can't help but sleep. When I wake up, I can smell their stench in the air. I've woken once to that dreadful noise, right in my bedroom. I couldn't... I couldn't move. Do you know what it's like to be paralysed with fear? To have your security stripped away? I think that's the moment I realised that I wasn't safe anywhere, when I realised that this wasn't going to end. I knew then, that I wasn't going to escape. They were going to come for me.

They've grown bolder over the last few weeks. I've heard them during the middle of the day, outside. They've left strange markings on the porch, scratched into the wood. I sand them down but they're never gone for long. I bought a dog, y'know. Big rottweiler. I thought it could scare them away, or at least the barking would cover their buzzing. At least, I wouldn't feel so alone. They... they took that dog the first night he was here. All I heard was a strangled yelp and then... nothing. He was gone in the morning, chain and all.

I wish I'd never gone into those woods, I wish I'd never seen looked into that hole, that crypt. 

Whoever you are, whoever is watching this. Stay out of the forest. Stay far away. They want to be left alone. They weren't supposed to be seen.

Tonight. They'll come for me tonight.

Having watched this video, it is the opinion of the forensic psychologist that Mr. Henning suffered a breakdown following the death of his wife, and developed paranoid delusions in the wake of such strong grief. An alert will be sent to stations around the state but there is little chance of Mr. Henning being found.

One small fact about the video remains unexplained, however, but has been dismissed due to the relatively low quality of the picture. During the final moments of the video, behind Mr. Henning, the door appears to be slowly opening.