Currently on Blair Witch: Season 1...

First Liam, now Tristan. Both of Rosemary Kent's children have been taken by the enigmatic Carver, and Rosemary has decided the only thing she can do is venture into the Black Hills Forest herself to recover her boys. However, as of right now, she does not know where she needs to go.

Rosemary, having enlisted Anthony's help, has gathered a number of historical documents that describe previous journeys people have taken into the forest. At the same time, Carver has left a taunting message that just might prove the key to finding his hiding place in the woods.

Can you find the way to Carver and lead Rosemary to her children?

Hints

Carver's Hiding Place

• Carver's message will give you a hint as to where Carver is hiding in the forest. You can use the following chart to decode Carver's message:

• Anthony's note tells you that the map of Black Hills Forest was embedded with specific cues by its maker. You can use these cues to navigate between three major locations in the woods. By charting out these three locations, you will be able to discover the place where Carver is hiding.
• You can use the magnifying glass to examine the map of the Black Hills Forest for subtle details.
• The engraving on the back of the compass, which reads "Each square an hour", will help you map out the movements people have taken through the forest in the three historical documents Anthony has given you.
• In the building record, pay attention to the path Ned describes taking to the hermit's house.
• In the historical expedition, pay attention to the path that Aloysius Masters describes taking from the bone-white rock to the hermit's house.
• In the historical reenactment, pay attention to the path between the bone-white rock and witch's hollow.

Logging On

• Rosemary has tasked you with finding the map coordinates of the place Carver is hiding. You can accomplish this by looking through the documents provided by Anthony and cross-referencing any locations mentioned in them with the map of the Black Hills Forest. To complete this episode, type the map coordinates into the tipline on www.kentcase.com. The website's password is Echo12.

Reveals

Carver's Hiding Place

• Carver's coded message says:

  • Find us where a shred of Propriety was lost.
• The historical reenactment describes Judge Goodneighbor losing a locket that contained a lock of his wife's hair in the hollow where he executed a woman accused of being the Blair Witch.
• The historical reenactment script also refers to Propriety Goodneighbor as Judge Goodneighbor's wife. It can be concluded that the place where a shred of Propriety was lost was this hollow. Finding the coordinates of this particular hollow on the map will allow you to complete the episode.
• Each square on the grid superimposed on the map of the Black Hills Forest equates to one hour of time spent traveling through the forest.
• If someone in one of the three historical documents says that they traveled in a particular direction for one hour, you can take that to mean that they traveled one square in that direction on the map.

• The following phrases are written on the map:

  • A10, A11, B10, and B11 → Deep underground, ancient roots wind through shattered skulls
  • B7, C7, D7, and E7 → Though the sun moves through the sky, the shadows of the pines stay fixed in place
  • F9 and G9 → Lost souls weep from nostalgia and regret
  • F11, G11, and G10 → Tears of the drowned ceaselessly flow down the creek
  • I3 → The ground, with its dreadful murmurs, will cradle careless travelers for eternity
  • K5, K6, and L6 → The sky shines bright red, the sun and moon are nowhere to be seen
  • L2 → The heavy limbs of trees are scarred with claw marks and carvings
  • O3 → Here the vermin fester in the bleak sunlight, but dance under the light of the moon
  • O7 → Here I saw the eyeless creatures horde their bones
  • P2 → The crows feed at blood-red dusk
  • O4, P5, and Q6 → I hear her whisper to climb the oak trees and leap into the air, but I will not give in
  • Q9 and Q10 → Forks of lightning erupt from the clear sky
• In the building record, Ned mentions starting on the path to the lumber mill and walking toward "the horde of bones" for five hours.
• Ned started on the path from Burkittsville to the lumber mill, but almost immediately diverged from that path. He walked five squares toward the horde of bones from the square where the path begins.
• The horde of bones is located at O7. The path begins at O12. Walking five squares from O12 to the horde of bones would leave Ned at O7.
• Then, it is mentioned that the hermit's house is located three hours away from the "still" shadows".
• According to the map, the still shadows are located in row 7, on the far-left of the map. Since the hermit's house is located three hours in the opposite direction of the shadows from square O7, that means it is three squares to the right of O7, at R7.
• The hermit's house is located at R7.
• In the historical expedition, Aloysius mentions starting at the white rock and walking for two hours in the direction of a pile of dead rodents.
• According to the map, the "festering vermin" are located at O3. Aloysius walked two squares from the bone-white rock toward the festering vermin, eventually coming to a fork in the creek.
• Then, Aloysius describes changing course toward a grove of whispering oaks. According to the map, these oaks are located on a diagonal that crosses the squares O4, P5, and Q6. He traveled in this direction for three hours, passing through all three squares. In other words, he moved three squares to the diagonal lower-right of where he was on the map before finally reaching the cabin.
• You will need to find the location of the hermit's house on another document. When you have it, you will be able to work backward from that location to discover the location of the bone-white rock.
• Specifically, you will need to map out a space that is three squares to the diagonal upper-left and then two squares directly up from the house.
• The bone-white rock is located at O2.
• In the historical reenactment, Judge Goodneighbor describes starting at the white rock and traveling for five hours in the opposite direction of the bloodthirsty crows.
• According to the map, the "crows" are located at P2. This is to the right of the bone-white rock, which is located at O2. Judge Goodneighbor walked five squares directly left from the bone-white rock on the first leg of his journey, to J2.
• Then, Judge Goodneighbor describes changing course and walking for two hours in the direction of a section of forest that emanates "dreadful utterances" from the ground. According to the map, this section that emanated dreadful murmurs is located at I3. In order to have passed this area from a starting position at J2, Judge Goodneighbor must have moved two squares to the diagonal lower-left of where he was on the map before finally reaching the hollow.
• Altogether, Goodneighbor moved five squares to the left and then two squares to the diagonal lower-left from the bone-white rock to reach the hollow.
• The witch's hollow is located at H4.

• If Carver is hiding at the witch's hollow, and the witch's hollow is located at H4, it follows that Carver is hiding at H4. Type H4 into the tipline on www.kentcase.com to complete the episode.

Transcripts

Account of Search Party Expedition

• I've scanned a few journal pages of a young man named Aloysium Masters for you. Mr. Masters was a member of a search party that combed through the forest for a number of days in the late nineteenth century, making several valuable, though largely unconfirmed and inexplicable, observations along the way.
  Master's journals were passed down through his family for years before being donated to the Museum by a great-great-granddaughter who was moving out of town and didn't want to carry much of the past with her. Hopefully, her loss will be your gain.
  
  -A
• March 14, 1886
  Back in town now. Spent the day out in the forest once again. Traveled several hours past the bone-white rock where we ended our search yesterday, but still to no avail. We fourteen able-bodied men, volunteers from about town who know the area and its peculiarities well, have not been able to find any sign that another human being has ever been in these woods at all.
  It was tragic, yet not unsurprising, when that young girl became lost in the first. It still disturbs me to the utmost degree, however, to think that the first group of men sent to search for her should disappear as well.
  We, the fourteen members of the second search party, count our friends and brothers and sons amongst the lost, and we have found neither hair nor hide of them, and not of the girl herself, for two days now. The only discovery of note thus far was that of a puddle of some viscous substance that none of us could rightly identify, which one man nearly lost a boot to when he accidentally stumbled into it.
  Though I do not put much stock in the ghost stories used to fright children in these parts, I still become deeply unsettled when I set foot into the forest. I feel as though a weight has been pressed upon my shoulders and a pair of eyes has focused on the back of my neck.
  We will take up the search once again at sunrise. I hope that tomorrow's effort brings us greater success.
• March 15, 1886
  Mr. Robertson, who misjudged a step into that strange puddle, returned this morning with a pair of borrowed boots. He complained that even though he had hung his boots above the fire all night, they continued to be soaked with the strange substance he stepped into.
  Near the end of the day's search, a member of our party called upon us to report that he had found a human tooth embedded into the gnarled stump of a white tree when he had attempted to set down to rest upon it. The men wasted almost an hour of daylight debating the tooth, half insisting it was indeed human while half swore it appeared to belong to an animal.
  One young man named Thomas Gillard was frightened beyond belief by it, trembling like a leaf in a gale as he insisted that the witch had set her gaze upon us. I stayed silent, as I did not know what I believed.
  We found nothing else of note, and when we returned to town it was with heavy hearts and slumped shoulders, especially once we spied curious children and wistful wives watching us return utterly empty-handed. We all went to our homes shaken and shamed. I am certain I will not be the only man tonight praying for some sign of the missing men.
• March 16, 1886
  Thomas Gillard refused to return to the wood today. When the thirteen of us came to collect him, we found that he had barred his doors and hung a cross in his window, and he refused to speak to any of us. We embarked without him.
  Though we encountered neither monsters nor witches, strange events did occur during today's search. While I am by no means ready to join Mr. Gillard in his beliefs concerning witchcraft, I feel I must describe the day's events to assist my own understanding.
  We began our day much the same as we always had, by spreading out in a formation intended to cover as much ground as possible. We left perhaps 40 feet between each man to properly sight any potential clues. I can recall with absolute clarity Mr. Josiah Johnson, our party's leader, standing to my direct left.
  We came upon the large white rock once again and were about to set out from the stone when I noticed a faint sound. I listened closely to locate the source of the sound, and, though it eluded me, it soon became apparent that the sound itself was that of a man calling for help. I turned to my left to alert Josiah, but saw another man instead. Mr. Johnson was now standing to my right, although I had not once veered from my course, nor had I seen another man cross my path.
  When I attempted to alert Mr. Johnson and the others of the noise, no other man seemed able to hear it, though it was only increasing in volume and desperation. Despite this, the men swore to me that the forest was silent as the grave. It was then I began to hear the voice screaming out my name. I insisted that we follow it.
  I must have seemed either quite sincere or quite desperate, because Mr. Johnson agreed to break from our planned course. From where we stood at the large white rock, we followed the stream toward the sound I heard. Almost as soon as we changed course, we came across a pile of dead rodents - ten or more. They appeared to have died fighting one another, as their flesh was torn to shreds. We walked two hours in that same direction, the smell of their rot seeming to linger with us long after we had passed them.
  Then, as we neared a fork in the stream, we sighted a wisp of smoke in the distance, at an angle from our current course. It surprised us all, especially myself. I have been a resident of the town of Burkittsville for the better part of 20 years, and, with the exception of certain old wives' tales, there have been no accounts of anyone taking up residence this far out in the woods. We turned slightly to head toward the smoke.
  We traversed three hours through ancient oak trees. I remember thinking the sound of the wind through the trees' leaves sounded not unlike the whispering of an old woman, and then I realized that I did not feel any wind upon my face. I was about to comment on the strange phenomenon of the wind to the other men when I spotted the cabin.
  The home was a small structure in ill repair. I would have thought it abandoned if it were not for the steady stream of thick smoke that floated from the chimney.
  We went closer to inspect it, which required us to navigate a very short stretch of hilled terrain. Our sightline of the house was interrupted by one of these hills, and when we managed to crest the hill itself and regain what should have been a direct sightline, the structure was gone. We searched the entire area, but not a single one of us could find any trace of the cabin again. The stream of smoke remained in the sky directly above where the cabin should have been.
  Mr. Johnson insisted that the sighting of the cabin and the smoke must have been no more than a trick of our own minds, experienced by many men due to our desperation. Though I took a small delight in not being the only man glimpsing some sort of phenomena, I could not help but think enviously of Thomas Gillard sitting in the safety of his home.
• March 17, 1886
  Two members of our party vanished during our search. The first was Mr. Robertson, who seemingly disappeared into thin air half an hour after we crossed into the wood. Some other man turned to call for him, I do not recall who, and then that calling intensified to a frenzy, and soon the whole search party was running about searching for him. Some suggested he may have turned coward and headed home as Mr. Gillard had, but a moment later we set eyes upon a small bundle of sticks wound with a set of slime-covered boot laces.
  Mr. Michaels disappeared shortly after. He volunteered to head back to town, to see if he could find Mr. Robertson. As it turns out, he never completed his journey. When the remaining eleven of us returned at the end of a fruitless day, it was to the screaming and hysteria of the town. Apparently, sometime during our excursion, someone had placed small, wooden effigies in the shapes of men on the doorsteps of Robertson's and Michaels's homes.
  Though I did not know either of these men well, I am deeply affected by their strange and sudden loss. Mr. Gillard made the right decision when he chose to stay out of these woods.
• March 18, 1886
  Last night, I dreamt that I was alone in the woods in the dead of the night. As I stumbled around in the dark, I noticed two lights in the distance. They hovered among the trees for a long moment before being snuffed out, leaving me totally alone once again. I cannot help but believe them to be the souls of Robertson and Michaels, lost inside that labyrinthine wood. Or perhaps they were a pair of eyes.
  I awoke this morning covered in sweat, with two small pinpricks upon the back of my neck. They continuously bleed no matter the amount of pressure that I place upon them. I tell myself again and again that it must be nothing other than a spot where I had pricked myself upon a thorn or branch during yesterday's search.
  After summoning all of my remaining courage, I joined the search party once again. We numbered five in total today, as half of the remaining men have refused to join us again.
  About three hours into the day, Mr. Johnson claimed to have caught sight of a bootprint. My hopes were momentarily lifted, and I ran to see his discovery. However, I tripped on the way over and hit my mouth on a rock that lay on the forest's floor, biting my tongue as I fell. My mouth filled with blood, which soon began to dribble out onto my clothing. I soon realized that the rock had knocked one of my front teeth out of my mouth, although I could not find it anywhere on the forest floor. Perhaps I swallowed it in my confusion and pain.
  To add insult to injury, it soon became apparent that there had been no bootprint on the ground after all.
  The men did what they could to aid me, but we decided to call the day's search short, as we deemed it unwise to separate and allow me to return to town alone. We returned minutes before sunset, although there should have by all account been hours of daylight remaining.
• March 22, 1886
  I have waited several days to collect myself, and I feel as though it is time that I recount what our party discovered on the seventh day of our search. We did indeed find the missing men from the first search party, but it was in no condition any man should be found. I would not wish the violence that was inflicted upon them even upon my worst enemy.
  We discovered them by the same large, white rock we saw on our very first day of scouring of the woods. They were long dead, and had been butchered like animals, all laid out upon the rock in some unnatural formation that I can only assume be some form of Satanic glyph, as it matches the symbols drawn onto their bodies in intermingled blood.
  The authorities have arranged a search for a madman or men and posted guards on the road to town. The guards are to remain there at all hours, but something tells me the perpetrators will elude their grasp. Something tells me they cannot be grasped at all.

Building Records

• This is an architectural drawing, complete with a series of handwritten notes, that's been on file at the Museum ever since Kip's Hardware Depot collapsed in the mid 1940's due to a devastating infestation of parasites and mold that the original owners couldn't afford to repair. The lot stood empty until Mike and Bob's Convenience Store was built in 1951. It pains me to part with this piece of local history, but I don't think that anybody at the Museum besides me will even notice its absence, and I know that you're going to put it to good use.
  
  -A
• Mr. Kip,
  A fella stopped by the store as I was closing up just now. Damn near gave me a heart attack, since I could have sworn that I'd already locked the front door. It was that guy who's been living out in the woods, can't for the life of me remember his name, even though I swear that he introduced himself to me.
  He bought supplies. Nails, shingles, things like that. Said that his place was damn near falling apart. Drew me a picture and made some notes so that I could get an idea of the scope of the project.
  Said he might come tomorrow morning for more supplies. Wanted to give you a heads up about it in case you're the only one in because, frankly, he doesn't seem to be entirely right in the head. He was caked in dirt and there were all manner of rotting leaves and pieces of sticks tangled in his beard, and he kept trailing off in the middle of his sentences. But, surprisingly, he had enough money, and with the way business has been lately, I could hardly turn a customer away.
  
  Ned
  P.S. - Where'd all the scrap paper that we usually keep under the counter go? I went to look for something to write a note on, but this drawing was the only paper on hand.
• Mr. Kip,
  You're not gonna believe this. Just now, I was closing down the store when I heard a dull scratching sound coming from the wall behind the register. Remember last spring when the rats got in the walls? It sounded like that, so I headed to the basement to get the traps. I was only away for a few seconds, but when I came back upstairs, the hermit was in the store again. He was scraping something along the wall with a rusty old knife. I hollered at him to cut it out. He stopped, but he didn't even apologize. Just turned around and demanded that I sell him a shovel because she needed his basement to be deeper. Can't believe a guy like that managed to land himself a wife. I had him pay extra, on account of the damage he did to the wall. Looks like he carved a bunch of stick figures. Would you mind painting over those when you get the chance? I'd do it myself right now, but it's late and I've frankly got a pretty bad case of the heebie jeebies just looking at the things right now.
  
  Ned
• Mr. Kip,
  Guess I can just use this sheet as a running log of hermit updates. He visited again towards closing today. Said he needed an extra pair of hands to help him with a project because it needed to be done fast. Offered me a good amount of money to help him out on my day off from the store tomorrow, and I said yes. Thought I'd let you know, just in case. And don't worry, I'll be bringing my hunting knife just in case he's really as off his rocker as people around town say.
  
  Ned
• Mr. Kip,
  I know it's my day off, but I stopped by to tell you to ban that hermit from the store. Guess you're out on your lunch break. But listen, the man's a menace. I met him on the edge of the forest at sunrise today to walk up to his house.
  We started on the path to the lumber mill, but soon veered off from the path entirely. We walked in one direction for what I would judge to be five hours. As we walked, the hermit would occasionally mutter under his breath to himself, like he'd completely forgotten that I was there at all. I could barely hear what he was saying, but I thought that I could make out something about heading toward the horde of bones.
  We eventually reached a stream, and when we did it was like he suddenly remembered that I existed again. He turned to me and he started talking about how there's a part of the forest where she pinned the shadows in place with pine needles, and that he made sure to build his place as far away from them as he could. He said that his cabin was another three hours down the river, away from the still shadows. He told me that I should count myself lucky that I wouldn't have to see those shadows just yet.
  Maybe it was just because I was spooked, but in the moment, it sure as heck sounded like a threat. I made some excuse about forgetting that my ma wanted me home by lunch and said that I couldn't help him out with his repairs after all, then I all but ran back to town. I just thought you should know that I'm not going to be serving him anymore. If he comes into the store again, I'm just gonna hide out in the basement until I hear him leave. I know that's not very professional, but it's the only thing I think I'll be able to do if I see him again, and that's God's honest truth. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Kip.
  
  Ned
• Stone foundation
• She told me the spot
• Cement exterior
• Plaster interior
• She wants me to build
• Window in the attic
• Stick-built
• She needs a basement
• She expects company soon

Historical Reenactment Script

The Execution of the Blair Witch

 

Written by

Anthony Rapinoe

 

This script is a section of a historical play that I staged a few years ago titled "The Past Never Dies: A First-Person Anthology of Tales from Old Blair". This particular scene is a dramatization of the honorable Judge Goodneighbor's journal entries, written just a few months before his death in 1785.

 

Goodneighbor's journal was originally found in the walls of the Museum during Hudd's renovations. A rat had made its nest out of the pages, but the few sections that were still legible have provided a fascinating insight into the trial and condemnation of the alleged Blair Witch. While the lack of concrete information regarding the accused witch's death (those particular pages having been long since lost) forced me to take a number of creative liberties and make some educated guesses, all of the information on the directions that Goodneighbor took in the forest itself are accurate to history. -A

Rosemary's Confirmation Audio Recording

[Beginning of recorded material]

 

Rosemary: Good. I've been waiting out here for a few hours. Something told me that you'd find me the answers that I needed today. Now I know where to go. Thank you. (a dog barking) Whoa, hold on, boy. Hold on, let me get my bag. (grunting) You know, it's kind of a relief to be out here. The house is... unbearable. It's so quiet. And I hate being at the Silver Moon. I can't stand the looks everyone gives me. (sigh) More and more lately, I've just been... staring out, into the woods. Or... reading about the woods. Or sitting up in the middle of the night, thinking about the woods. (a dog barking) I know, buddy, I know. He seems antsy. I hope he'll be able to pick up a scent. I've noticed, when I come out there to search for the boys, that the farther you go in, the quieter it gets. It's not a peaceful quiet, though. It's tense. Like the whole forest is... holding its breath. Hudd and I would come out here sometimes, when we first started dating. He knew all kinds of facts about nature. "Moss grows on the north side of the tree," he'd say. I have no idea if that's actually true. We used to chase each other around and leave each other these little notes. And then a few years later, down the road, Hudd started bringing Liam to cut wood with him, until... (crying) ... until I lost him to this place. (crying) I'm going to get my sons out of here. Even if I have to end up just like Hudd to do it. Goodbye for now.

 

[End of recorded material]

SuperNeutral Podcast: Big Foot Audio Recording

[INTRO MUSIC, fading to the introduction by our hosts Ed Barrett and James Durant.]

 

Ed: Welcome to SuperNeutral, the pint-sized paranormal podcast that pits a believer: that's me, Ed Barrett...

James: Against a skeptic. That's me: James Durant.

Ed: On this minisode, we're going to talk about a topic near and dear to my heart: Bigfoot.

James: Now, listen, before you get into it, I just need to say that I read the Spooky Spotlight you wrote, but as much fun as the topic of Bigfoot is, it's also... (deep breath) There is just absolutely zero evidence to prove Bigfoot exists. At all.

Ed (sarcastically): Okay.

James: You referenced some so-called "footage of Bigfoot", which I used to see on TV all the time.

Ed: Oh man, I love that stuff.

James: From one perspective: so do I. I remember being a kid seeing that footage of Bigfoot walking across the screen, and it sent a chill up my spine thinking that that thing could be out there.

Ed: Yeah, it's so awesome.

James: Mm-hm. BUT... I'm sorry... have you seen what the internet has done to that footage?

Ed: Yeah, that stabilizing? Yeah. I know. Alright, for sure, I loved that video growing up, too. And I still have a soft spot for Sasquatch, but yeah. When you clean up the footage and you stabilize it, it just...

James: It's just a guy in a suit.

Ed: Yeah.

James: Okay, so... good! Can I take this to mean you don't believe in Bigfoot?

Ed: Slow down.

 

[James gives an exasperated sigh.]

 

Ed (cont'd): I'm not going to play the role of the complete doofus here again. I have an actual question for you, James. How do you know that Bigfoot ISN'T real?

James (impatiently listing): Oh my god. Okay... I'll go with: faked footage, phoney plaster casts of footprints, somehow still no one has gotten clean footage of this thing, gigantopithecus went extinct because it was physically too large to sustain itself with proper food, and because Bigfoot just definitely doesn't exist.

Ed (amused): Mm-hm, mm-hm. I'm following. Now, let me ask the same question a different way, okay? How can you prove that something ISN'T happening?

James (exasperated): Oh, come on, you can't just -

Ed: You can prove all the found evidence has been faked, but can you conclusively prove that something isn't in those woods?

James: Do you really think it's likely that -

Ed: "Likely" isn't the question, James. I'm looking for a hard yes or no. Do you know for a FACT there is nothing in those woods, or, let's expand here: Do you know for a FACT there aren't other species, creatures, or oddities in the world that haven't yet been discovered?

James: I guess not.

Ed: Even with how sophisticated our technology has become. Satellites orbiting the globe, photographing every square inch of the Earth's surface. Would you let that information convince you there's nothing left to discover here? There are no unknown species?

James (reluctantly): No.

Ed: I'll agree that it's implausible for a seven-foot-tall ape man to be hiding in the woods. But isn't the world a little more enjoyable to think about with that possibility?

James: Why do I feel like I somehow just lost this edition of our ongoing Bigfoot debate?

Ed: You heard it here, folks. James Durant, consummate skeptic, says BIGFOOT IS DEFINITELY REAL.

James: Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Ed: So there you have it! Thank you all so much for joining us; we hope you learned something interesting.

James: And we'll see you in the next minisode.

But until that time comes, it's safe to turn out the lights.

Ed: Or is it?

 

[The SuperNeutral theme music plays out the podcast.]