8-Bit Horrors - Wenlutah
A story living in the Off the Grid universe
The images moved quickly, as though they were pages of a book caught in the wind. He saw an open field ringed with trees, a pair of stone altars, and a massive creature with antlers dining on what looked to be a human form.
Matt Collins jerked awake, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat that seemed to sparkle in the rays from the night light. The interior of the van was warm, but not so much so that it would account for his perspiration. He thought of the dream and knew he was getting close to the place he was searching for. The dreams served as a beacon of sorts, pulling him ever closer to the spot that would serve as the first episode of his upcoming podcast.
He flicked on the overhead light and stepped out of bed, sweeping his shaggy brown hair away from his eyes. While the van was warm, the wooden floor was cold, the feeling of it on the soles of his feet properly snapping him awake. Matt started the coffee machine and slid open the side panel of the van, looking out at the forest stretching as far as the eye could see.
Like every trip he made, the journey was blind. He followed his dreams, relying on the visions that so often came to guide him to somewhere of interest. At first, he had ignored the nighttime intrusions, but they became more insistent the longer he tried to put them out of mind. He had learned to trust the dreams now, but he was becoming concerned that they were growing increasingly darker. It was this turn toward the supernatural that made him feel it was time to start recording his forays into the veil that existed just beyond the natural world.
Coffee mug in hand, Matt sat on the floor and looked out at the Oregon landscape beyond. He was now sure that where he needed to be lay somewhere in the middle of the trees stretching off into the horizon. The sound of a train whistle coming from that general direction triggered a chill, confirming that he was indeed where he needed to be.
Something hummed inside him as Matt drove through the tunnel and emerged into a deserted roadway lined by trees on either side. A chain‑link fence ran along one side, and he could see an old gate a little farther up the road, barely clinging to life on battered hinges.
Matt made his way to the gate and turned the camper van into a rutted dirt road that wound its way through the trees. The app on his phone showed a circular green space at the end of the road, but there was no suggestion as to whether it was private or public land. Given that there were zero “No Trespassing” signs to be found, Matt assumed it to be the latter.
After a short, bumpy ride, the trees opened up to reveal a large clearing ringed by old cabins and a few tiny houses. Everything looked to be in a state of disrepair, with the roofs caved in on a couple of the cabins and grass growing high in areas. Matt felt a light electrical current pass through his body, and when he spied the stone platforms that looked a lot like the altars in his dreams, he knew he had arrived.
Matt was so focused on the altars, he barely noticed the man standing beside an SUV parked beside one of the ruined cabins. It was the furious waving of the man that finally caught his attention. He steered the vehicle over to the stranger and cut the engine before climbing out.
“Hello fellow traveler,” the man called out, a wide grin splitting his bushy red beard open in a horizontal slash.
Wiping his hands on his cargo pants, Matt reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Nice to mee you. I’m Matt.”
“Alder,” the man said, his grin growing wider still. “Hippie parents are responsible for the name. So, what brings you to these parts?”
Matt took an instant liking to Alder, but even with the man’s seemingly cool vibes, he wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal too much. “Road tripping. Passed the gate back there and couldn’t resist taking a peek.”
Alder looked a little disappointed. “I thought you were here because of the rumors.” He looked over his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he looked into the trees. “It’s all over the dark web message boards.”
“You are talking about the things with the giant antlers?” Matt asked sheepishly, fishing for more information.
Alder’s eyes went wide and the grin returned. “I knew you were one of us. People don’t just land here for no reason.”
“You seem to know more about it that I do. I don’t suppose you’d fancy filling me in.”
The big man moved forward and threw a meaty arm around Matt’s shoulders. “Fancy it? I’d love to. I’ve always liked the idea of being a cryptid tour guide.”
Matt hit the fob on his keys, locking the van door. “So, where do we begin?”
“I’ll tell you the story as we make our way down to the train tracks. There’s something down there that you need to see. How the Feds missed it is beyond me,” Alder said, heading into the trees, arm still draped around Matt’s shoulder.
Alder finally let go of Matt as they moved deeper into the trees, the branches of which tugged at Matt’s flannel shirt. A sense of unease crept over him, as he imagined phantom hands trying to pull him into a cold embrace. The land sloped downward, and as the trees began to thin out, Matt could see railroad tracks in the distance.
“We’re getting close to where it all went down,” Alder called out.
“What’s that?” Matt answered, pretending he didn’t hear, while hoping that the gentle giant would divulge more details.
“The Feds called it a derailment, but it was a whole lot more than that. Took them days to clear the monsters off the tracks.”
Matt paused for a moment, closing his eyes and seeing the flash of antlers from his dreams. He focused his attention on that specific image, trying to find clarity. As he did so, a creature emerged in his mind, a nightmare thing of flayed flesh, exposed bones, and an insatiable hunger. He shuddered at the thought.
The men continued down until they broke free of the tree line and stood by the tracks. Matt looked left and right, his gaze finally settling on the tunnel a little further up the line. Something about the dark opening felt both inviting and terrifying at the same time.
“You ready to go in there?” Alder asked, nodding in the direction of the tunnel.
“Can you fill me in on what you know. All of it. I only have the basic details.”
Alder narrowed his eyes, as though suspicious, but then his grin returned. “Cannibals, man. It was a group of flesh eaters that live up in that encampment. The story goes that they were protected by creatures called the Wenlutah. Fucking wendigos, dude.”
Matt shook his head, suddenly sorry for asking for the information dump. He felt that the tracks, and specifically the tunnel, were important, so he chose to focus on that. “I knew about that stuff,” he lied. “What about the tunnel and the crash?”
“A couple stumbled onto this place on their way to somewhere else.” The big man shrugged. “They were about to become a meal, but a battle fucking royale ensued, ending with the Wenlutah queen chasing them down here. The big bitch was caught in the middle of a train crash. Feds covered all that shit up.”
It all sounded unbelievable to Matt, but his dreams suggested that some of it might be based in fact. “Tell me about the tunnel.”
Arm around the shoulder again, Alder leaned in close. “Better we go look. Come on.”
The men walked in silence, both activating the flashlights on their smartphones once they stepped inside the train tunnel. Gooseflesh crept over Matt’s body as they moved deeper into the abyss. The whole place felt off in a way he couldn’t explain. He fought the urge to turn tail and run, but when Alder stopped and pointed down, the notion to flee slipped away.
At first glance the white mark by the wall looked like nothing more than some flaw in the rock, but on closer inspection, it was obviously an animal skull. It could easily have been dismissed as a moose skull, but again, a closer look made it clear that this was something bigger, something other.
“Behold, the skull of the Wenlutah,” Alder said, dramatically.
“Are you going to take it?” Matt asked, prepared to tackle the big man if that was his intention. Something told him this thing should stay exactly where it was.
“Fuck, no. I don’t need those bad vibes in my life. Those things are still out there, and I don’t need them coming after me.” Alder looked back down the tunnel, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “This is sacred land, Matt, and I think we’ve outstayed our welcome.”
After a silent trek back to the clearing and a promise to stay in touch, Matt sat in his van and thought about what he had just seen. There was more to the story that he wanted to learn, and he had nothing but time to put in the work, although he had a feeling his dreams were done with this particular legend and ready to point his internal compass in some other direction.
The Wenlutah experience was one that deserved to be shared, though, so Matt pulled out his laptop, connected the microphone and opened the Audacity app. He was now convinced that he was meant to be on this journey. Independently wealthy, he had the means to travel in whichever direction the wind blew him. He also had some stories to tell.
Clearing his throat, he leaned into the microphone, clicked record, and began to speak. “Like many of you out there, I am in search of the truth. I am prepared to go places where others dare not tread, and I want to share my stories with you. These are the Matt Collins Chronicles.”