Lance eyed the woods outside the moving car nervously. The rest of the group,
three guys and two girls, would never admit they were afraid- and Lance had to work extra
hard to not show the fear on his face. It's not that he was a coward by any means, he was on
practically every sport team his high school had, it was just something about these woods,
and the deeper into them that the car penetrated, the more unsettling Lance felt.
They shouldn't be here...
Like many bored teens on a saturday night a few weeks before Halloween,
Lance and his friends had decided to explore some of the creepy local urban legends for themselves.
Living in eastern Georgia there was no shortage, everything from old haunted slave shacks that
were still standing, to mysteriously abandoned cabins deep in the swamps.
In Lance's hometown though there was one legend that topped them all- crybaby bridge.
A small, rickety wooden bridge crossing over a creek, the bridge itself was nothing spectacular.
It was really just a thirty foot wooden plank bridge, with perhaps the scariest thing about
it being that there were no safety rails on the sides. Accidentally pitching your car over the
edge definitely would be terrifying, but unlike other 'spooky' or supposedly haunted bridges,
crybaby bridge was pretty unimpressive looking.
None of that made Lance feel any better as the group of teenagers drew nearer to the bridge.
He'd been out here before in the day time, just about everybody in town had
out of a morbid sense of curiosity. Few ever returned at night though,
and with civilization now miles behind them and nothing but dark woods pressing in on every side,
Lance knew why. The trees seemed to crowd the small dirt road, almost like they were
trying to reclaim the land for themselves. Lance did not feel welcome here at all.
But suddenly, the car came to a stop.
There it was, crybaby bridge, lit up by the glow of the headlights.
It was exactly as Lance remembered it from the last time he was out here,
but what was a seemingly unimpressive bridge in full daylight took on a decidedly more sinister
appearance in the near pitch black. The headlights shone all the way across the
brief thirty foot span, but rather than light up the darkness they seemed to only
serve to reinforce how truly dark anything outside the small pools of light truly was.
The group had grown quiet, almost in reverence of the bridge before them.
Or perhaps, now that they stood before the most haunted bridge in Georgia, the
false bravado had finally melted and the terror each felt deep down inside was showing itself.
They knew what they had to do next though. According to legend, a single mother had been
driving these back roads, distraught and suicidal over her rapidly spiraling life.
In her backseat was her infant child, and as the woman drove recklessly through the woods,
a heavy rain began to pick up. Blinded by the rain and her tears, the woman accidentally
drove her car straight off the side of crybaby bridge, plunging the car to the creek below.
Due to the heavy rains, the water had risen and while it wasn't enough to cover the entire car,
it was enough to drown both mother and child who were pinned helplessly in the wreckage.
Now the mother's ghost haunted the local area, searching for her child, and if you dared to
stop your car over the bridge, turn off the engine and the lights, you too could get a
glimpse of her- or perhaps of the soft crying of the young child who drowned below your feet.
The car slowly lurched forward, the sound of tires crunching on
gravel giving way to the rhythmic sound of wooden planks underneath.
The bridge itself creaked audibly, it had been built decades ago and there was
no telling when it might finally give way. Hopefully for Lance, today wasn't the day.
The fall below wasn't very far, the muddy creek bottom was only twelve or so feet
below the bridge, but it would no doubt wreck the car and leave the group stranded out here,
miles from the nearest sign of civilization.
The car came to a stop at the exact center of the bridge,
and almost hesitantly, the driver at last pulled the key out of the ignition.
The sounds of the woods at night suddenly washed over them like a breaking wave-
frogs, crickets, various night birds going about their business. Without the rumbling of the car's
engine and the tunes from the radio, the forest outside was a veritable cacophony of noise.
The group laughed and joked about who would be the first to get out,
they knew they couldn't stay in the car if they hoped for a glimpse of the famous ghost.
Finally they agreed, they'd all get out together. On the count of three,
four doors popped open, and the group of teens spilled out of the car.
But, what was that? For just a moment, there was something down the creek on Lance's side
of the car. He swore he saw a brief bit of movement as he was stepping out of the vehicle,
almost as if something out there had used the sound of the teens exiting the vehicle
as cover for its own movement. Lance concentrated hard,
ignoring the nervous giggles of his friends around him- it had been a flash of dark, like
a slightly lighter black figure moving against the inky blackness of the nighttime forest.
Nothing was moving now though. It was probably just his imagination, or his nerves. He hated to
admit it, but now that they were out here this was seeming like a very bad idea. His previous
enthusiasm to experience something genuinely creepy had lost its luster, and now the thought of
actually seeing a ghost terrified him to no end- but he'd never admit it to his friends, of course.
Pushing the thought out of his mind, Lance turned his attention back to his friends,
though he still cast the occasional wary glance back in the direction of where he thought he'd
seen movement from time to time. The group laughed and joked in hushed tones for a bit,
until one of the girls demanded that they take it seriously and try and make an attempt at
encouraging the ghost to come forward and show herself. For that, everyone knew that
you needed to be out of the vehicle, with all the lights off, and remain perfectly quiet.
Grudgingly, Lance and the others shut off their phone's flashlights,
instantly overtaken by the pressing darkness. The sound of the creek lazily bubbling along below
them complemented the sound of the woodland chorus all around them, and it was almost relaxing- or
it would have been, if Lance could just shake the feeling that something was wrong here. Very wrong.
A faint memory tugged at his mind, some warning from way back in his childhood
when he'd grown up hunting on his grandfather's property not too far from here.
But it was so long ago, Lance couldn't place it, and it nagged annoyingly at the back of his mind
as he tried to concentrate on the sounds and sights of the dark woods around them.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, something changed.
The group still exchanged a few nervous giggles and bits of conversation,
but was making a serious effort at remaining quiet. Perhaps that's why they didn't notice
it at first. The woodland chorus of crickets, birds, frogs, and other night critters around
them had started to silence. Slowly, gradually, the night noises began to dim and fade.
Lance was the first to notice it, he was after all the most experienced hunter in the group.
While most kids growing up in Georgia today had fished, hunting was a dying sport and few
had spent any significant time out in the woods. Fewer yet had been out deep enough,
and long enough, to hone those special 'woods senses' as his grandfather used to call them.
The subtle cues the forest and swamps provide to help guide hunters to prey... or avoid danger.
Lance warned the group to be silent. It was obvious to him now, if not to the others. The
crickets and critters both up and down the creek from them had begun to grow silent.
The silence grew in intensity towards them from out of the darkness, as if something was
making the nightlife go quiet as it slowly, but surely approached the group of teens.
Suddenly, a chill ran up Lance's spine. The frogs had grown quiet too, almost all at once. For a few
moments there was the occasional straggler letting out a weak croak, but it too would fall silent.
Lance's grandfather had called frogs “nature's alarm system”. They weren't
bothered by mule deers or even big bucks. They only went quiet when a predator was around.
Lance was about to whisper a warning to the group, tell them to get back in the car,
when it happened. The soft, low sound of what seemed like a crying infant, and it
was coming from the treeline slightly upstream of the creek. The group sat in stunned silence,
each teenager unwittingly holding their breath as if too afraid to make noise by breathing and
cover up the soft sound of the crying baby. It was true. The legend of crybaby bridge was true.
Maybe it was the fact that Lance's hunting experience made him more attuned to the woods
than his friends. Or maybe it was that flash of movement he thought he'd spotted earlier as the
group poured out of the car. Whatever the reason, Lance was the only one to hear it- the sound of
movement in the water below them, like something quickly but stealthily moving up the creek and
doing its best to avoid making big splashes that would give it away. A warning was on his lips as
he turned to look behind him and down over the edge of the bridge, but just then one of Lance's
friends fired up their phone's flashlight, aiming it directly at the sound of the crying child.
What the light revealed stole the breath from Lance's lungs,
sending an icy finger of terror deep down his spine and settling in his gut.
It also unlocked that annoying, nagging memory that had been fighting to wriggle
free ever since the group had parked out here.
Lance was eight when he'd taken up hunting with his grandpa, and had fallen in love with it right
from the start. It wasn't so much the shooting and killing an animal that he loved, but rather
the time spent deep in the woods alone, or with his grandpa, the two bonding over their shared
love of nature and the sweet relief of leaving civilization and all its cares and woes behind
for a few days. Taking a prize buck was nice, but even if he went a whole season without filling a
tag it was always time well spent out there on the vast acres of land his grandfather owned.
But never, ever, stay out there past nightfall in the spring or fall, his grandfather had
warned him. Lance could overnight during the summer or winter all he wanted,
and he often did, but if he wasn't back on his grandfather's porch by dusk during spring or fall,
he'd get his hide tanned, the old man sternly threatened. It had taken years
for his grandfather to elaborate, finally telling him when he was 14 the reason for the warning.
Boogers.
He'd never elaborated past that single name, but he didn't need to. Everyone knew the legend of
the wood boogers, from Georgia all the way to east Texas, and whenever hunters went missing
in the woods during spring or fall it was an unspoken acknowledgment- the boogers got 'em.
And now Lance's friend's light illuminated the face of a booger just two dozen feet up the
creekbeed from them. It had a very man-like face, but the proportions were all wrong.
The round, black eyes were far too small for the absolutely massive face,
and the nose was huge but flattened, almost like it had run straight into a wall at
a hundred miles an hour. Thick, reddish hair covered the creature's entire face,
though it thinned out around the nose and mouth. The creature was pursing its lips,
mimicking the sounds of a crying baby, but upon being illuminated, it immediately stopped.
And then it took a step forward, breaking out of the tree cover entirely.
The massive creature stood well over nine feet tall,
with massive, very muscled shoulders and arms that hung down almost to its knees.
Even though it was up the creek from them and still over two dozen feet away, the shock of
it revealing itself in its full terrifying glory was enough to cause the teens to physically take
a step back. One of the girls screamed, the rest of the group was too stunned to react.
Lance heard the sudden sound of movement below them, and as a giant, hairy hand reached up in
between the boards of the bridge and snatched one of the girl's ankles, he suddenly understood.
The booger in front of them had been mimicking the sound of an infant on purpose,
it was trying to distract them. The brief blur of movement Lance had spotted as
the teens exited the vehicle had been a second booger, and as he had suspected,
it had indeed been using the sound of the teens opening and slamming the doors
shut to mask its movement. They had been hunted, a trap slowly laid for the group, and now, sprung.
The booger below yanked down violently, a firm grip on the girl's ankle. She screamed in terror,
her screams taking on an entirely different octave as she was dragged down onto the
wooden flats of the bridge, her leg breaking from the violent pull of the creature below.
The group scrambled to try and pull her up, but to no avail, the creature was far too strong
and it wasn't letting go of its prize. The space between the planks was just big enough
for her leg to get dragged through, but nowhere near big enough for the rest of her to follow,
but that didn't stop the monster below. It continued to pull and yank, until finally,
with a horrible, sickening wet plopping sound, it tore the leg clean off. The
booger screamed in rage at being denied its prize and left only with a drumstick.
The friend who had driven them out here backed off in terror, soaked in the girl's blood. He dug
furiously in his pockets for the keys to the car, muttering a stream of expletives and telling the
group to leave her and get in the car. They had to go, it was too late for her, she was bleeding out.
They had to go!
But as he pulled the keys loose from his pocket, a rock the size of a softball smashed into his
chest, sending him to the floor choking in bloody coughs. The keys flew from his hand
from the violence of the impact, and Lance dove for them as they tumbled across the wooden planks-
but inevitably fell through the gap between them and to the creek below.
The original booger who had faked the sound of a crying infant lifted up a second big rock
and hefted it with frightening strength, sending it smashing into the side of the car.
A massive, rough hand from below reached up for Lance and he scrambled to pick himself
up before it could grab him. Dark, dirt-encrusted nails raked across his chest as he barely avoided
the creature's grip, leaving bloody tears in his tshirt. He jumped to his feet and quickly leapt
away from the booger below, looking around in a panic. They had to get out of here, but the keys
were gone, the car wasn't an option! Looking behind him at the way the car had driven in,
Lance saw the first booger crashing through the trees and stepping out onto the road- it knew that
was the fastest way to civilization and safety, and it was purposefully blocking their path.
There was only one option, they had to go deeper into the woods.
With a rallying cry, Lance dragged his two surviving, weeping friends forward,
pushing them ahead and down the path leading deeper into the woods. The girl who's leg had
been torn off had either bled to death by now or was about to- either way, there was
no way to save her. The friend that had driven them here lay flat on his back on the bridge,
clearly in a painful daze. As he struggled to breathe his mouth erupted in bloody,
frothy bubbles- the booger threw that rock so hard it must have smashed his lungs up badly.
There was no saving him either. But maybe they could save themselves.
Lance never ran so hard in his life, and within moments the bridge and the car were lost in the
twists and bends of the road behind them. He had no idea what was out here, he'd never once
driven this far out and didn't know anyone who did. Typically adventurous teens came out to
crybaby bridge and promptly turned around, but if there was a road here then it led somewhere.
It happened in an instant, the booger moving with such astonishing speed that the surviving
girl didn't even have time to scream. She was running next to Lance one moment,
and the next a massive black figure came crashing out of the woods,
wrapped her up in its arms, and with two steps was once more back in the cover of the woods.
Lance didn't stop running, she was gone. He didn't know if she ever screamed or not once the booger
had her back in the woodline, the blood pumping in his ears drowning out almost all other noise.
Keep running! He shouted at his friend over burning lungs,
sheer terror pouring fresh adrenaline into both their circulatory systems.
Both boys ran harder and faster than they'd ever run before, likely making and breaking
new county track records in the process- but they couldn't outrun the terrible power of a
booger. With a sickening thumping sound, another baseball sized rock smashed into the back of
Lance's friend's head, and the boy tumbled over, cartwheeling from his own momentum.
Serpentine! Lance's brain screamed at him,
dodge and duck so the next rock won't get you!- but it would only slow him down,
and even through the pounding of the blood in his ears and his own gasping for breath,
Lance could hear it- the distinctive sound of a bipedal creature running behind him. Each step
thudded dully, growing in volume as the booger neared. He could actually feel the massive size
of the creature as it drew nearer, the vibrations of its thunderous footsteps growing in intensity.
Luckily, Lance was in excellent shape. He played on practically every team his school had after
all, and had always excelled at athletics. The choice to get into sports instead of spending
every afternoon plopped down in front of the Xbox was paying off now, and he could
hear the booger behind him grunting in obvious frustration that Lance wasn't slowing down yet.
Then Lance spotted a light in the distance- two of them! A distinctive bobbing and
weaving of what were very obviously two headlights coming down the road,
the truck or car bouncing in the uneven gravel. That was it!
Safety, if he could get to the car he could jump in and tell the driver to floor it!
The booger behind him also saw the headlights rapidly approaching down the gravel road.
It suddenly stopped its pursuit, letting out a titanic scream of frustration.
The sound of it was like a locomotive going off right next to Lance's ear,
and the impact of the enraged scream hit him from behind like a physical force.
Lance let it propel him along, adding on a fresh burst of speed, and he heard
the angry booger stomp back into the woods, destroying small trees and branches on the way.
He almost laughed in relief, but didn't dare to slow down. The approaching vehicle lights grew
larger and brighter as what was obviously an old pickup truck picked its way down the road
towards him. He was glad it was a pickup truck, that probably meant it was a local landowner
and few people living this deep in the woods in Georgia went anywhere without a rifle or
shotgun in the truck's gun rack. The truck was just a hundred meters away now, he was
sure he could hear the soft twanging of country music on the radio over the sound of the engine.
And then Lance ran straight into a solid wall of black fur.
He'd seen the boogers take his friend mid-run. He'd seen how fast they could move. He'd outrun
one behind him, but he'd never bothered to look at the trees to his left or right. With just two
steps, the nearly ten foot booger was out of the tree cover and already in the middle of the road,
wrapping its massive arms around Lance as it engulfed him in an unbreakable bear hug.
Then, with barely any more effort that one would lift a shopping bag,
the booger picked him up and in another two steps had him back in the cover of the treeline.
Lance fought through the terrible odor of BO and sewage that permeated the creature's fur-
no, it wasn't fur, it was hair- desperately trying to draw a breath.
Off to his right he could see the woods light up from the passing truck's headlights-
the vehicle, and safety, no more than fifteen feet away.
It had been country music on the radio, he hadn't imagined it after all.