Portents of Fear is a horror fiction podcast which is intended for mature audiences.
Discretion is advised.
Welcome, Fearlings, to another weird and horrifying tale made just for you.
I am your host, Michulhu, and I'll be your guide to the macabre and mysterious.
Tonight we learn that nature has always been something one should respect in.
Forever yours, Alexander.
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May 15th, 1876.
Dearest Elizabeth, I hope this letter finds you well.
I miss you deeply.
We started out two days ago from Fort Edmonton.
A very nice town has sprung there, and they signed a treaty with the local Cree.
Our guide, a trapper named Samuel, has been worth his weight in gold.
He has filled in many blanks about the surrounding areas and has a gregarious outlook on life.
He keeps all our spirits up.
As you remember, we have about 32 men, including myself, mostly students from the university,
but we do have 10 hired hands to help move the equipment.
Dale Humphrey will join us in about a week.
Robert Pail, whom you know, is heading a plant sample collection.
He can catalog with 10 students while I and the other 10 students will be observing the
animal population.
I hope my skills as an artist are good enough to capture the beauty of this land.
Today, we traveled along the Ox Trail River.
It's a fast-moving, gigantic river, so we cannot traverse it with boats.
But there are several creeks and smaller rivers that split off from it, where we can easily fish.
There is an abundance of fish here, more than I would have expected.
Samuel says if you have a boat out on the water, they might just jump straight into your bucket.
We have a long train of helpers moving supplies with us from the fort.
Base camp will be about four days from Edmonton, so I will be able to write to you often.
The spring weather has been very nice so far, if not a bit cold.
Mid-May was the perfect time to start.
We'll be back in the States by the end of September.
I know that the next five months will have its challenges, but our studies will be such a boon for the university.
The cataloging and study of nature is so important to do before more expansion changes the landscape.
I do wish you could be here with me, my love.
I feel your adventurous spirit would be well-suited to this place.
The river has given us much to see in the way of wildlife.
There was a bear fishing in one of the smaller tributaries.
This bear had to be three men tall, weighing five times their weight.
As we passed, I grew concerned that it would take notice of us, but it was focusing on its task of finding fish.
I look forward to hearing about Madison and all the wonderful things you are doing.
I think of you every time I look at the stars, my sweet Elizabeth.
Forever yours, Alexander.
June 16th, 1876.
Dearest Elizabeth, I received your letters and care package today, and the cookies truly warmed my heart.
And thank you for sending a new picture. You look breathtaking.
I understand you are almost as excited as I to wed, and that planning is key, but we can do most of that together in October.
Trust me, we will finish planning for the wedding.
My heart beats with anticipation of being with you again.
And yes, three children would be a reasonable amount with the income I produce.
Samuel led us to a prime location for base camp.
It's a gorgeous valley filled with trees.
There is a small lake we are calling cool water that runs through it.
Having fresh water close by makes all the difference.
The tents are up, the snow has melted, and everything is in full bloom.
It does rain often, and mud can be an issue, but we are laying down some boards we brought to deal with that.
There are so many bears, mainly black bears, but we've seen some grizzlies too.
I do have some bad news.
Samuel, our guide, has been ill the last few days after breaking his leg from a steep fall down a ravine.
He was in the process of helping a student who had fallen first, and ended up tumbling down himself and landing hard on a rock.
He is running a fever now, and though we have done all we could, it does not seem to be enough.
We sent for a doctor, but it's eight days round trip to Edmonton.
I hope they get here faster, though. Samuel and I have become close friends.
We talk often of the animal life and what it is like to be a trapper on the frontier.
He has some amazing stories and keeps the men in good spirits.
I hope we can get him on the mend.
What I am about to tell you will be hard to believe, but I promise it was real.
I beheld an enormous crow yesterday.
It was at least five feet high. I swear to Almighty God it was real.
It sat at the edge of camp in the early morning hours, watching us.
The sun was rising as I left my tent. I froze when it looked at me, and then it took flight a moment later.
I told the others, but they insist I must have dreamt it.
Outwardly I agreed, but I know what I saw. It was magical. There is no other word for it.
I hope you do not think me mad.
I told Samuel about it, and in his fever he said I needed to be careful.
There are legends of forest spirits in this place that protect it.
He warned not to take more than what was needed from this valley.
I assured him we respect the land, but I do not think overhunting will trigger a supernatural event.
I'll be honest, I love nature, but the thought that there is a forest spirit watching us seems far-fetched.
Science is the light which will lead us from the darkness, not superstition.
I will write again soon. I look at the stars each night and think of you.
Forever yours, Alexander. June 30, 1876
Dearest Elizabeth, I have terrible news.
I received word that Samuel died not long after getting back to Edmonton.
His wounded leg had turned gangrenous and his blood became infected.
I cannot tell you how much this saddens me. He had become a good friend.
We have sent for a new guide to join us, though at this point we know the surrounding area well.
I have seen the crow a few more times, but I seem to be the only one blessed by its visits.
Dale raised concerns and suggested I might need a break, but we have far too much to do.
Maybe it is just the sadness making me see this bird.
The others are probably right. There is no way it could be real.
I thank you for your kind words in your last letter. You are my everything.
Forever yours, Alexander. July 19, 1876
Dearest Elizabeth, we have suffered more tragedies this past week.
Three workers and two of my students, Greg and Jerry Perch, brothers, were injured by a black bear.
They claimed that they shot it six times, but it did nothing to the creature.
I question this account. No black bear could handle six point blank shots from a rifle.
They had long gashes along their arms and legs. It was horrific.
We sent them immediately out of the camp to Edmonton for medical treatment.
Two days ago, we had four students go missing from my team.
We were observing beavers at the creek. I turned around and they were gone.
I do not know how long they had been missing when I noticed.
We have been searching the surrounding woods and have not found a trace of them.
I sent letters to their parents telling them I have no idea where their children are
or what happened. Those were the hardest words I have ever written.
Then last night, we woke to a hideous sound coming from the woods.
It was a nightmarish scream.
Ten of us, including Dale and Robert, grabbed lanterns and guns and ran toward the noise.
We thought that it was one of the students and wasted no time trying to find them.
But what we found was part of Patrick Mulvey, one of my missing students.
When we tried to recover the other parts of his body, we noticed hundreds of crows
watching us from the blackness of the trees.
I pointed it out to the others right before we entered the clearing.
Were they laying a trap for us? I thought I heard Patrick's voice on the wind.
We all did. I do not know what is going on. Something has changed in the valley.
I just heard more commotion outside my tent. I will write when the chaos of this day has passed.
Forever yours, Alexander.
July 29th, 1876. Dearest Elizabeth, I received your latest letter
and I know you are concerned with the tone of my last correspondence.
I am so very sorry for alarming you. Things have calmed down.
We were able to recover the body parts of the student I mentioned, Patrick.
The crows had left. I will say that after further consideration,
I do not feel they were laying a trap for us. They are carrion birds.
But the less said about the subject, the better.
One of the workers who had been attacked by the bear and sent to Edmonton did die.
The rest are recovering before being sent back to the states.
I will admit relief that my students are going to be alright.
I never want to write a letter to a parent like that again.
I also have not seen the crow in a while. This fact has calmed my nerves greatly.
Maybe it was a hallucination of some sort brought on by tainted meat the night before.
I have forgotten word that a new guide cannot be found at this moment.
This is fine. We know the area well enough and how to get back to Edmonton at this point.
We start the final portion of the cataloging tomorrow and will finish in September.
I will be honest, my love. I knew there would be setbacks,
maybe a major injury or one accidental death,
but not seven dead men and four dreadfully wounded. It is almost too much to bear.
The
I cannot wait to see you again, my love.
It has been a trial not seeing you each day.
I have been on so many of these explorations, but this one is the hardest
because I know you are waiting for me back home.
I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again.
Every moment that passes brings our reunion closer.
Forever yours, Alexander.
August 10th, 1876.
Dearest Elizabeth, I know you got my last missive
but a few days ago, and that it must be late August
or even early September, so you know I should be headed home.
But it is not to be.
Days after I sent the last letter,
I found a white grizzly carcass
about 800 yards away from camp.
At first, I thought it was a polar bear,
but on closer inspection, I learned I was wrong.
It looked fresh like decay was happening slowly.
The wounds were monstrous.
My heart sank when I found bullet holes
and that the body had been desecrated.
Whoever did this pulled the bear's entrails out.
I hope the poor creature was dead
before its insides were ripped from its body.
It had been partially skinned
and some of its meat was taken as well.
Samuel had warned doing such a thing
would have grave consequences.
I failed to warn the workers and students
to not hunt for more than they needed.
And now we are being punished for it.
I wish I could say this was the worst of it,
but it was not.
I am sorry, my love,
but I must recount the events here so there is a record.
I returned to camp and summoned all the students
and workers who remained.
When I did a head count,
I found we only had two workers out of 10
and seven students out of 20.
Robert was among those absent.
It was then I decided this project was over
and that we must leave.
I should have done this
when the first students went missing.
Some protested and said we should search for the others,
but I could not risk losing more students.
We decided to pack up camp the next morning
and start back home with the research we had.
I would tell the authorities in Edmonton
that several men had disappeared
and they should send the army to search for them.
That afternoon, I wrote down the names
of all the missing students with Dale
to whom I had shown the dead Whiteford bear.
He suggested we should burn it.
I said I had no idea whether or not
that was the right thing to do.
I did feel that the best thing to do
was to leave as fast as we could.
Something in the back of my mind was telling me
we had a small window to get out.
That night, I heard monstrous sounds coming from the treeline.
The noises were driving us all mad.
Suddenly, I heard two students run out
to the middle of the camp screaming.
I leapt up and went to see what was going on.
There, near the dying amber of the fire, was the giant crow.
The sounds of the forest had stopped.
Not even the wind made a noise.
I could hear all our heartbeats.
The two students who had run out screaming
were next to the crow on their knees looking at the dirt.
I stepped forward and said,
"'Please, they are young and did not know
what they were doing.
You have taken so many of us already.
Can we please just be allowed to leave?'
I surmised that these two and the others who had died
had killed the bear not long after we arrived.
The crow looked at me, tilting its head to one side
and then back again as if reading me.
The rest of the camp stood behind me.
Their fear was palpable.
Dale was on my left.
He had a gun lowered, but ready.
I wish he hadn't.
It finally looked at me.
"'Kill them,' it said in a cracked voice.
Elizabeth, in my mind, I was screaming to wake up.
This had to be a nightmare.
Without another word, it flew away.
The group stood there in silence
as the world around us came back to life.
I questioned the two about the white bear,
and they admitted that a large group
went hunting for sport and killed it.
They shot several animals,
but only brought back three deer to skin and eat.
We all decided to pack up what we could
and get out of there at first light.
The rest of the camp went to sleep, but I could not.
Around 3 o'clock in the morning,
I was outside watching everyone sleep around the relit fire.
At that moment, a grizzly ran out from the treeline,
grabbed Dale by the neck, and dragged him into the forest.
He had no time to scream.
The commotion woke the others,
and we opened fire on the beast, but it was too late.
We could hear Dale screaming from the woods
for several minutes, but our courage failed us.
And we just stood there.
The crows' hideous, po-like words crept into my head.
Kill them.
I knew then that the only way out was to kill those left
who had killed the white grizzly.
What I did next is why I will never come home.
I am so sorry.
I decided to murder the boys to save the others.
Everyone knew this was the only way.
We tied them up.
The students screamed, begging us not to do it.
But I was resolute.
I grabbed a long knife and proceeded to cut their stomachs
open and pull out their intestines while they watched,
just like they had done to the bear.
I do not know why I did this.
I guess something told me that it was the only way
to appease the spirits of this place.
The students yelled in pain before passing out.
When the grim work was done, I was covered in their blood.
I turned to the rest of the camp.
They said nothing.
We walked back to the fire and just sat,
waiting for the sun to come up so we could load the cart
and go home.
The crow returned just at dawn.
It took both of them, one at a time, back into the forest.
No one said anything.
We just watched.
The final time the bird arrived, it said one word,
Leave.
And that is what we did.
I am writing you this letter from Edmonton.
Today, I plan to speak with the local police
about what happened at the camp.
I will confess to my mental collapse
and take responsibility for all the deaths that occurred.
I have told the others to back up my statements.
I will waive the right to a trial and ask to be executed
for my crimes immediately.
This is the only way to have peace for myself,
my students, and my employees.
Goodbye, my love.
By the time you get this, I will be gone.
I cannot look at myself in the mirror
or marry you with what I have done.
The others say I did what I had to do, but did I?
I did not try to run from or fight the crow.
I was a coward, and I will hang for it.
Forever yours, Alexander.
I have to say, I feel for both Alexander
and his poor never-to-be-wife Elizabeth.
Hopefully, she married rich.
What would you do if you came face to face
with a five-foot-tall crow?
Be sure to tell us in the comments.
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