Author’s Note: This story was written for a themed flash fiction challenge from LegendFiction. Authors had a few days to create a story based on the word “Glimmerwood.” My mind instantly went to a secret government project with Glimmerwood as a code name. I hope you enjoy this horror short! You can get a free copy of the entire story collection at LegendFiction.com/gift.

Project Glimmerwood

Testimony from Witness 1

Name: George [LAST NAME REDACTED]

Location: [REDACTED], West Virginia

Date: July 13, 1998

It was the summer of 1983. We were kids at the time. My friends and I were ten years old; my brother Dave, only seven. Nobody’s going to believe the word of some kids. But I know what I saw. The memory hasn’t faded, even after all these years.

My parents lived on four acres, most of it wooded, and our town was small. There wasn’t much to do. So my friends and I hung out in the forest, and my little brother always tagged along. We did the usual stuff: climbed trees, caught frogs. Snowball fights in the winter. But the way the lightning bugs floated over the creek at dusk in the summertime – that was my favorite memory. They glimmered in the evening twilight.

Then one day, there was something else deep in the forest. Not the warm yellow flicker of a firefly, but a sickly blue light. I’d never seen anything glow like that in the woods before. I instinctively knew it wasn’t right. That this wasn’t natural. The first time we saw it, we all ran at the same time. Didn’t say a word; just looked at each other and bolted. We didn’t stop running until we made it to my house.

The next time we saw the blue light, my friend Brian was brave enough to go investigate. We all trailed behind him while he led the way across the creek and deeper into the woods off the marked trail. Now our parents had always told us to never go off the trail, so we wanted to turn back. But Brian was determined, and we couldn’t leave him. No matter how long we walked toward the light, it never seemed to get any closer. Almost as if it kept moving further away, although we never saw it move. Who knows, maybe it was us frozen in time.

As you can probably guess, we never reached the source of that glow. Our parents found us sometime after ten that night. They were shouting frantically, but we didn’t hear it until they were standing right in front of us. Somehow, we’d found our way back to the trail – right where we’d left it. Our parents told us they’d been searching for hours, yet we couldn’t account for the time. As far we knew, we’d only been walking for ten minutes or so. Before they brought us home, we took one last look into the woods where we’d seen the blue glow, but it was gone.

We didn’t spend much time in the woods after that. Whenever we did play there, we were careful not to venture too far. Something had shifted the night we followed the blue light. It was as if the forest took on an ominous quality. Soon, we were sticking to the unwooded section of my parents’ backyard, and then staying inside altogether.

By the time we were teens, we’d drifted apart. It was like the blue light – whatever it was – became a secret that tore us apart. Nobody wanted to talk about it. Our parents brushed off the incident. Even when we told them what we saw, they didn’t believe it. They thought we were making it up to get out of trouble.

I haven’t seen my childhood friends for years now. My brother Dave left town as soon as he turned eighteen. As for me, I still live in West Virginia and work at the family store. I have my own place, although my parents have offered more than once to let me live rent-free at their house. It’s not like I have a bad relationship with my parents. I just couldn’t bring myself to live near those woods. They still have a hold on me, all these years later. I never saw the blue glow again, but it’s always haunted me. I know what I saw. And I can sense that it’s something…supernatural.

Whether it’s good or evil, I can’t tell. But if I see it again, I do know this: I’ll follow my gut and run.

Testimony from Witness 2

Name: Laura [LAST NAME REDACTED]

Location: [REDACTED], Tennessee

Date: November 2, 1998

I was never afraid. I knew they weren’t going to hurt me.

Gosh, I must have only been five, six years old. It was either ’84 or ’85. If I asked my dad, he’d know. I was camping with him, just the two of us. Dad only had me on the weekends after my parents’ divorce, so I treasured that time with him. He taught me everything I know about the outdoors. I’ve never been scared out there, and I wasn’t then; I felt peaceful the whole time.

We were camping in the Great Smoky Mountains in our battered old tent – the same one Dad’s had for years – living off of hot dogs and canned beans for the weekend, plus whatever we could catch in the river. I woke up in the middle of the night and had to use the bathroom, but didn’t want to wake my dad, so I went out alone. I didn’t go far into the woods; I could still see the tent from where I was. As I finished up and turned to go back to camp, I saw it out of the corner of my eye: a faint blue glow.

I can’t tell you what drew me toward it, but I just started walking as if I was in some kind of trance. I don’t remember being scared at any point, even though it was so dark. I kept my eyes fixed on the pale blue light in the woods. It was like a beacon drawing me in.

I don’t know how long I walked before I came to the clearing. As I stepped out of the woods and into a grassy field, there they were: glowing blue deer. There must have been a dozen of them. They all lifted their heads from grazing and looked at me. They didn’t spook. It was like they knew I didn’t mean them harm.

There was no moon that night. The glow of their bodies gave off more than enough light. It was very peaceful. That image always comes to me in my dreams, and I’ve painted it dozens of times. I’ve even sold a few. People compliment me on my imagination. When I tell them it’s real – that I’ve seen it – they laugh at first, like it’s a joke. When they realize I’m serious, they get freaked out. Some return the paintings and don’t even ask for a refund. Once, I asked a customer why they were returning it. Older gentleman, very polite. At first, he didn’t want to say. But I kept pressing, and then he told me. He said ever since he brought the painting home, he’d had the most horrible nightmares.

It’s strange, really. They visit me in my dreams often, and I always remember them as they were that night: a dozen luminous deer, peacefully grazing under a moonless sky.

Testimony from Witness 3

Name: Chloe [LAST NAME REDACTED]

Location: [REDACTED], Pennsylvania

Date: October 5, 1999

I don’t really want to talk about it. I’ll just tell you this – they’re evil. One of those things stalked me for hours. My friends said I’d only been gone a few minutes before they found me, though. It’s bizarre.

It looked like a person. That’s the worst part. A humanoid body, upright, walking through the woods. But the skin glowed a sickening blue. It was…I’m sorry, I can’t talk about this. Please leave.

Testimony from Dr. Timothy Hess, Assistant Director of Project Glimmerwood, during the November 1999 Trial

It started with animals. It was supposed to just be animals.

I’ve worked with Dr. Gregory Trout for most of my career. His specialty is genetic research. The bioluminescence project was one of many gene-splicing experiments he conducted. He called it Project Glimmerwood. We took genes from various species of jellyfish and spliced them into mammals commonly found in the Northeastern United States. The genetically altered animals were released on privately owned land near the research center. It was all fenced in – we never intended for them to escape.

I don’t know at what point human test subjects were introduced, but one day, I overheard a conversation between Dr. Trout and an older man. The doctor was describing an experimental gene therapy for chronic illnesses; in this man’s case, Parkinson’s Disease. Over the next few weeks, more human test subjects came into the lab seeking gene therapy for various illnesses. It all seemed aboveboard – until I saw the first subject again, the older man with Parkinson’s.

He was sitting in an exam room. I had to do a double take because I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But when I took another look through the glass pane on the door, my eyes confirmed what I’d seen: the man’s skin was glowing, just like those animals we’d experimented on. He made eye contact with me through the pane of glass. I will never forget the look of utter desperation on his face, or the words I read on his lips: help me. That was it. Just a simple plea, too quiet to be heard from the other side of the glass. But it was unmistakable. Even without words, it was evident this man was in distress. No, that’s an understatement. The man was begging for his life.

I’m ashamed to admit that I immediately ran to my office and locked myself inside. After a few minutes, I thought better of my cowardice and returned to speak with the man. But by the time I reached the exam room, he was gone. When I asked around about him, my colleagues denied he’d ever been there. I didn’t know his name, so I couldn’t search records for him.

That night I went home to decompress from the shock of the day. When I turned on the TV, there was a familiar face staring back at me from the screen: the man with the glowing skin. He had been reported missing.

I should have gone to the police that very day. I don’t know why I didn’t. Perhaps I convinced myself I’d only imagined the whole incident. I almost felt I was losing my mind. Everyone denied the existence of this man. Dr. Trout vehemently denied he’d invited any human test subjects to participate. I tried searching records but found nothing. Now I suspect the doctor had his own secret files that he kept locked away in his office.

I don’t know what became of that man, or the other test subjects. Shortly after the incident, I received a vaguely threatening visit from Human Resources. They never acknowledged the existence of the man. Still, they made it clear I should keep silent about anything I’d seen in the research facility. Somehow, it wasn’t the loss of my career I feared. This may sound silly, but I feared for my safety.

Now that the trial has begun, I’m finally recounting what I saw, in the hopes that maybe it can shed some light – excuse the pun – on what really happened during Project Glimmerwood. At this point, I don’t care what they do to me. Every night, I see the man in my dreams: his horrible, sickly blue face; the utter helplessness in his eyes; and the desperate plea on his lips.

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