There Is A Trail Up In The Rocky Mountains That You Should Never Hike, And For Good Reason
"This old trail used to be the only way through this little strip of Colorado to get onto Utah in the Winter when the snow was high, but it would give you about a 50/50 shot at making it. About half the people would freeze or starve to death. Take your pick. But the real…
By
Jack Follman

I ran as fast as I could back into the tent and dove at my pack. I started stripping it of everything I figured I didn’t absolutely need until it was about as big and heavy as a standard backpack. I threw it on my back, clutched my hunting knife and crouched facing the opening of the tent. I zipped up the opening just to where I could peer through a tiny hole.
I tried to keep my breathing in check when I saw a dark figure step past the opening of the tent and stroll up to the fire, his back facing me the whole time. All I could see was a shaved head, black shirt, black pants, black boots and a long, shimmering knife hanging down out of a hairy, greasy palm.
The figure stopped just in front of the fire and unzipped his pants. He proceeded to piss on the last of the fire and let out a heavy sigh.
Once the ashes cooled, the figure walked past the fire and headed over to the cliffside where Ezra and I threw our empty bean cans. He stuck his head over the edge and looked down for a few moments.
“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself.
I let the zipper of the tent down just a little bit further. I had enough of this and I was sure whatever was out there wasn’t going to be thwarted by a little bit of nylon if it wanted to get to me.
In one swift move, I rushed out of the tent and started running in the direction from where Ezra and I had come. I was going to run all the way down the mountain in the middle of the night.
At least that was what I thought until I saw the face of the bald man I just watched jump over the cliff.
Standing still in the path I was taking down the mountain, the black-clad man, had a pale hairless skull, but his lack of hair was far from what was most alarming about his head. That was his mouth. His mouth jutted out in a canine snout as opposed to the friendly gaping hole of a human mouth. The man looked to have all the features of a human, except for possessing the mouth of a coyote.
I screamed and ran back the way from where I had come. I was running out of breath, but kept chugging along as fast as I could because I could hear the feet of the bald coyote man gaining on me from behind.
I ran directionless for what had to have been a few minutes until I realized I had no clue where I was and my lungs were going to exploded. I slowed to a gallop and started better taking in my surroundings.
The trail I was on cut through the thick trees with an uphill grade, but it changed a little bit just a handful of yards ahead of me. It appeared to lead into a wood-framed mine, cut into a wall of thick rock.
I gulped down the last of the oxygen I had and raced out the last of the distance like a racing horse closing on the final furlough until I was completely enveloped in pure darkness in the mine.
Once inside, I whipped my flashlight out from my pack and steadily kept moving forward until I clicked on the light and illuminated the world around me.