The Woodsman: Case #41-76
It had been two years since that night when Linda and Tom barely escaped the man with the chainsaw somewhere between Tonopah and Reno.
Police found nothing—no traces, no bodies, only deep claw-like cuts in the truck’s metal doors.
The case was labeled “unexplained incident” and quietly closed.
But two years later, people began to disappear again in the same region—campers, road workers, even hunters. Locals reported smelling burned meat and gasoline fumes deep in the woods.
Something—or someone—was back.
The Encounter
As the sun sank behind the Nevada mountains, Patrol Officer Miller drove down a lonely forest road.
He thought he saw a figure near the tree line—a man holding a chainsaw.
At first, he assumed it was a logger.
But when he slowed down, the details became wrong. The man’s movements were stiff, jerky.
He wasn’t cutting wood.
Miller killed the engine, stepped out, and lifted his binoculars.
It wasn’t a log.
It was a human body.
The man was hunched over, his clothes soaked in something dark. Even from the distance, Miller could tell—it was blood.
He stumbled back into his car, hands trembling as he grabbed his radio.
> “Dispatch, this is Officer Miller. I see a man with… with a chainsaw. He’s cutting something. I think it’s a person. I need backup—immediately.”
He turned off his headlights and crouched behind the wheel.
That hour and a half of waiting felt like a lifetime.
Every sound in the forest—the creak of branches, the hiss of wind—felt like footsteps approaching.
Sometimes the man would stop, raise his head, and look around, as if sensing he was being watched.
When the backup finally arrived, four SUVs flooded the woods with light.
The man was still there.
Now he stood in the middle of the road, holding the same chainsaw.
And smiling.
The Capture
“Put the tool down!” one of the officers shouted.
The man didn’t move.
He just tilted his head, slowly, unnaturally, as if his neck were made of rusted hinges.
When he stepped into the beam of light, they all froze.
His face was pale, almost white, covered in scars that looked burned into the skin.
His body—stitched together, uneven, like a failed medical experiment.
Six shots were fired.
He kept walking.
Three more, plus two tasers.
Still, he pushed forward, dragging the chainsaw behind him, sparks flying from the ground.
Only after the seventh bullet pierced his chest did he finally collapse.
The Investigation
When they took him in, they realized he had no name, no fingerprints, and his DNA returned an impossible result:
> Two overlapping human sequences—like two people merged into one.
His wounds healed within days.
One officer wrote in his report:
> “When we cuffed him, he didn’t scream. He didn’t fight. He just smiled.”
The End
Three days later, three men in black suits arrived at the station.
They presented sealed documents marked with federal insignia.
> “We’re taking over this case,” one said.
“From now on, you’ve seen nothing.”
Officers were ordered to hand over all files.
The man in chains was loaded into an unmarked van and driven away without explanation.
By the next morning, the case number #41-76 had vanished from every record.
The surveillance footage was deleted.
All reports—erased.
No one ever heard from the agents again.
No one ever saw the man again.
And deep in the forests between Tonopah and Reno, locals still claim to hear the faint echo of a chainsaw…
cutting through the silence.