[ WP ] You 're walking through the forest when you find a basketball sized hole that seemingly has no bottom . You put your ear in the hole to listen and you hear what sounds like a million people screaming .

The soft jangle of the rider's bells and the muffled thuds of the horse's hooves were the only sounds meandering their way through the trees. The early morning sun barely had the strength to bleed through the heavy canopy overhead, and mist clung to every rock and hollow along the barely visible trail. 
 
 
 
 The rider again felt the sensation of being watched, a feeling of curiosity mixed with anger, but now... a deepening hate. 
 
 
 
 His horse seemed to feel it too, seemingly more wild-eyed with each bend in the trail, and now giving a little shudder when passing near the deeper shadows, neck tensing against an invisible force. 
 
 
 
 The rider gave a glance down at a glowing device in his hand, a pale yellow light encased in metal, held tightly in his leather clad fist. Pulling back slightly on the reins, the rider paused to hold the device higher, seemingly seeking a direction in which to head. 
 
 
 
 Unconsciously pulling harder on the reins, the rider's horse plodded to a faltering stop, shying away from the darkness cast by a heavy branch on its left. 
 
 
 
 Then... there, in a small clearing. Nestled innocently between a moss-draped rock and a fallen branch, the ground sloped gently towards an impossibly black, perfect circle on the forest floor. 
 
 
 
 Slowly dismounting, the rider slid from the saddle, gingerly touching the ground with his boots as if the very earth might reach forth and entrap him, horse and all. 
 
 
 
 Feet firmly planted now, the rider glanced around, peering into the shadows of the thick forest. Seeing no signs of life or activity, the rider tied his steed to the heavy branch and carefully began to pick his way over to the black void. 
 
 
 
 With each careful step, strange new details became apparent. The first was the sheer `` perfectness'' of the circular opening. Not an errant edge or deviation could be seen. Then, the stark and unyielding contrast of an unnatural, too perfect black against the lush green of vegetation surrounding the mouth of the hole. 
 
 
 
 Slowly and carefully, the rider continued to pick his way closer. Taking great care to avoid stepping on broken twigs and gently rolling his feet on the dead leaves underfoot to quiet any sound. 
 
 
 
 Reaching the hole's edge, the rider slowly lowered to his knees, paused, then haltingly laid prone with his hooded head poised over the opening's edge. 
 
 
 
 At first, there was nothing. The rider gave a quizzical shake of his head, softly jangling a buckle on his cloak. Then... a rising moan began to build in the clearing. A low, menacing groan that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, like a faint growl of a coming storm. 
 
 
 
 Closer the rider inched, now with his head centered over the hollow, a brown hood suspended over infinite blackness. 
 
 
 
 The sound intensified, building in crescendo and frantic energy. Voices began to emerge from the cacophony, muffled words and... the screams. 
 
 
 
 Terrible cries of agony, ripped from the strangled throats of suffering and pain. Building ever higher in pitch and volume. Men calling out in agony, curses followed by painful shouts. Children's voices screaming for their parents, begging for whatever hell they were in to stop. Piercing wails of pure terror and hurt, women or beast, the rider could n't tell. 
 
 
 
 The chaos still swelling and booming, the rider now clasped his hands to his ears hoping to block some of that terrible sound. The rider began to shake, feet kicking against the dirt, the noise of his bells now completely lost in the cacophony. 
 
 
 
 Then without warning... Silence. 
 
 
 
 The rider lay there for a long moment, gathering whatever wits he had left. Then, he slowly stood, rising on shaky legs, head drooped as if he were still stunned. 
 
 
 
 He turned towards his horse, whose reins had wrapped around its neck in a frantic effort to escape. Sides still heaving in panic, froth flecking the long neck of the steed. 
 
 
 
 Still staring, the rider raised his hands to his head, and removed the hood from his cloak. The horse jumped, and began straining against the reins, trapping it further. Even being a mere beast, the horse knew something terrible, something unnatural, had happened. Seeing the rider before it now, it felt something even worse was yet to come. 
 
 
 
 For it was wrong where the riders eyes should have been. They were now just a stuttering, endless procession of mouths flickering into existence and then changing again, man, child, beast, woman. Shifting, twisted lips where eyelids should be, and gnashing teeth and tongues for eyes. All curled back and silently screaming for release from the agony they endured. 
 
 
 
 Pulling his hood back up, the rider slowly smiled. He was finally complete.
