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The Disappearing Man

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Every summer I rent a cottage up in New Hampshire or Maine with my family for a week or so. Five years ago, we ended up in the absolute middle of nowhere in Maine. This was fine by me, because that's the kind of stuff I love. No light pollution, city contamination, and a billion stars at night.

The house wasn't exactly fantastic, a little outdated, but it was clean enough for me. It was obvious the back end of the house was added on later, in which it was now the living room. It had a million windows, and you could see everything around the property.

Renting this house 'came with' a boat. Nothing fancy, but it was a boat. The first thing that weirded me out was when I woke up one morning, I walked by the living room and saw a man sitting in it reading a newspaper smoking a cigarette. I just kind of stood there and looked through the window, and pointed him out to my cousin.

We called over to my uncle to tell him about the man sitting in our boat. When he walked over to the window, the man was gone; and this wasn't any regular looking guy. He had long ratty grey hair in a ponytail, thick square glasses and a trucker hat. He was wearing huge dirty boots and an overly faded Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt.

A couple days pass, and one night we build a fire in the backyard and roast some marshmallows. While in mid-conversation, the man appeared out of the woods behind my cousin. "Yall need some firewood," he asked. "I have plenty here."

We said thanks but no thanks, because really now, who was this guy and where did he even come from? He told us his name was Earl.

I would randomly see this guy through our time staying there, in the woods cutting logs with some creepy old rusty axe. Other than that, absolutely nothing.

The second to last day we stay there, I get sick. I stay inside playing videogames in the living room while my entire family is down by the water fishing, grilling, and playing games.

I was sitting on the couch when my uncle walks in to grab some chips and napkins. The kitchen is behind me, and then there was a little hallway with the bedrooms and bathroom. Before my uncle went back outside, he went into the bathroom to get his bathingsuit on.

When he walked back out to grab the chips, he looked up to see the man in our house, standing over me behind the couch. I had no idea he was there, nor had heard anything. I continued to play until I heard my uncle ask, "Uh, can I help you?"

I paused and turned around thinking he was talking to me, when I looked up behind me to see the man standing there in my house hovering over me.

I froze, and looked at my uncle. The man coughed up a dirty laugh and said, "No, I just came here to get something." The man then bends down behind me, reaches under the couch, and pulls out a hatchet. He holds up the hatchet, wheezes out a laugh, and walks out our door. We never saw him again.

(This story is credited to a person named Skella.

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