Hello everyone, I hope that you're all doing well.

This week we have three stories that I think you'll really enjoy.

So, without further ado, let's get into it, as we drift further into Mr. Creve's mind.

If you see a strange smoke trail in the woods, do not be a Mr. Creep's mind.

If you see a strange smoke trail in the woods, do not follow it.

Written by A.K. Colored In.

For those involved in dealing with cryptids, if any of you are reading this, why do you do it?

Other than the money, of course, I feel a lot of you do it for the rush, the adrenaline.

But where is the line drawn? Where does exhilaration evolve into panic?

Don't get me wrong, a little risk taking is food for the soul, but so many factors can go

wrong in any situation.

In particular, what do you do when you find the corpse of a cryptid that you were hunting,

eviscerated and dismembered?

When the abrupt realization hits you that, there's a bigger fish.

My grandpa wasn't quite on the level of monster hunting, but boy, was he a crazy son of a gun.

Once he hunted a grizzly using nothing but a crossbow, wet mud and leaves, and his wit. He's had its head

mounted above his forest house fireplace ever since. I can't say how far back his love for

the wilderness is rooted, but I know that he grew tired of the city long before retiring from his

job as a metropolitan engineer.

Since then, he's lived out in an old house in the northwestern reaches of the Olympic National Forest,

about 40 miles from the park itself, Washington State.

I can only imagine how lonely it must have been living out there by himself, but he never

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