Snow Eaters

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-Transcript-
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For eons, humankind has turned to matters of faith to explain things science had not yet been able to breach the understanding of. Though as time went on, the pursuit and application of knowledge and understanding of both the natural and social world began following a systematic methodology based on evidence. But some things in this world, don’t have evidence to give. Their existence is immeasurable. Laying between the strings of reality… sitting on top higher dimensions… or even mirroring in silent duality. One day science will be able to explain these ethereal concepts. On that day we may realize how closely aligned our faith had been with it all along. After all, there is something intrinsic in our ideologies. Isn’t there?

Today’s case deals with a phenomenon that treads the line between the spiritual and the measurable.

We ask the viewers to be wary of… Snow Eaters.

Snow Eaters, more commonly referred to as, the Foehn Winds, are pockets of cool moist air that approach from the windward sides of mountains. They form rain clouds as they travel up, drying the air out as they precipitate along the way. Turbulence at the peak blows the stormy clouds away. Then as the air makes a descent down the leeward side of the mountain. The sun heats it up more, causing it to rapidly melt snow.
Thus, its signature nickname.
Curiously, when these winds fall over towns at the base of these mountains, people begin reporting a wide gambit of illnesses ranging from migraines all the way to full-blown psychosis. Even ER and police statistics show a 10% increase in suicides and accidents during this phenomenon. Science has tried to explain the Foehn Winds. Some theorize the negative effects result from sudden changes in the ion state of the atmosphere. Others claim dormant psychological illnesses are simply being aggravated by the general unpleasant feelings of dry gusty winds and sudden drops in pressure. But categorical evidence for these theories simply does not exist, regardless of how many measurements or probes take place.
Agent Fifteen has devoted months researching and cataloging Snow Eaters. While his findings do little to unravel their mystery, the data he’s collected does show strange patterns which suggest some sort of sentience behind the events. Fifteen has discovered that there has never been a recorded instance of two Foehn Winds occurring simultaneously. Instead, they blow independently from one another. Furthermore, some evidence shows that the order in which the phenomenon occurs is decided by proximity. Almost as if traveling between the nearest mountain peaks that possess appropriate conditions.
The agent’s investigation had been purely theoretical until reports broke of 8 frozen bodies and a ravaged campsite on the leeward side of the Rocky Mountains in northern Montana. Local police reports claim hypothermia as an initial cause of death pending autopsy, but the incident described closely resembles the 1959 Dyatlov Pass incident, in which 9 experienced hikers froze to death on the northern Ural Mountains of Russia when something inexplicable provoked them to cut their way out of their tents in the cold of night, and scatter in multiple directions dressed in their sleepwear.
Just as in Dyatlov, a group of Montanan hikers set up camp mid-way in their ascent to the tallest peak of the Northern Rocky Mountains. After several days passed with no word from the group, rescue efforts were deployed. Police found the campsite abandoned, all the equipment left behind, and the tents cut open from the inside. After extensive searching, the remains of the victims were recovered within a three-mile radius, all inadequately dressed, and with no external wounds or bruises. The investigation was short-lived, as severe cases of hypoxia can cause intense paranoia, resulting in a fight or flight response. Common to altitudes of this height. However, not only did this occur during a Snow Eater event, but chances are once the autopsy is concluded, it will unearth something inexplicable. Something which was present in all other similar cases across the world. Severe internal damage. So severe that the pressure needed is similar to what is seen in car crashes.
Being a local, Agent Fifteen was in close proximity to the crime scene and decided to stay the night, camping in the spot of the incident. It was a windy winter day; conditions were less than ideal, but Fifteen was not a stranger to snow camping. The agent brought a slew of meters, gauges, and other monitoring equipment. He surveyed the landscape, took readings, collected samples, and reviewed the spots where the bodies were recovered. However, besides the obvious, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
It wasn’t until late into the night, after the agent retired to his tent, that a passive sensor went off. EMF levels spiked, environmental radiation increased, and the already freezing temperature dropped another 10 Fahrenheit. Fifteen jumped into action, getting dressed and leaving to investigate.

The following is a description of the events through his eyes, transcribed from debriefing interviews afterward:

“I stood in the cold night. The frosty wind whistled around me. Snow reached all the way to my knees. There. Floating at the very peak of the mountain. Bobbed a faint blue flame. At first, I thought it was an illusion. Some refraction of light playing tricks in the moonlight. But as I sat there watching it playfully weave around in the air, its dancing movements gave away intelligence. After a few minutes, it began frantically darting around, approaching me, then recoiling back, much like a dog that wants to show its owner something. Curiosity took over, and I followed it through the mountainscape.
It was fast. Keeping up with the mysterious floating spark through the snowy darkness was a challenge n itself. The thing led me over the peak and down the dark side of the mountain. The chilling blue light it emitted mixed with the gray overcast moon, projecting uneasy shadows in my peripheries. But I felt no threat coming from it. Instead, the wisp filled me with a sense of child-like wonder as I followed its magical trailing flames. I found myself running just to maintain its subtle glow within my field of vision.
But suddenly the wisp stopped. It floated in the expanse of the mountainous blackness, waiting as if letting me catch up to it. Yet hair on the back of my neck at attention and intuition halted me in place. Good thing, as the next step forward, would have caused me to plummet down a large crevasse which laid obscured by mounds of snow. The wisp twirled gleefully on the other side of the pit before diving down. It’s awareness of the hazard betraying its intent, breaking my naïve trust. I cautiously climbed down the side of a divide. I had no equipment, no ropes, in hindsight, it’s a miracle I didn’t tumble to my death… or even managed to find a way back out. The bottom of the cavern was shrouded in darkness, the echoes it generated implied enormous depths. Though the wisp stopped only part of the way down. It perched on top of an icy lip, beckoning me to trail along it horizontally. So, I did, chasing it deeper into the heart of the mountain. The thin ledge expanded, giving way to a cave system. Thick slabs of crystal-clear ice covered the floor and walls. Its blue hue accenting the large deposits of bright purple amethyst, glowing from the little light bouncing around this reflective cave.
That’s when they came into view. Large ebony double doors, their height towering over me three-fold. As I approached the massive entryway, the regal decorations covering their surface came into view. They were clad with golden inlays, decorated with a litany of jewels, its craftsmanship finer than things even automation can accomplish. I stood mystified. The wisp pirouetted around me, shaking as if from excitement.
As my disbelief suspended, I reached at the door, placing my hand against its surface. The cold metal was electrifying to the touch, affirming its tangibility.

“The wealth.” I thought.

This entryway must be adorned by only a fraction of what lays inside. And while there was no way to be sure of that, and no reason for this thought to occur to me. In my mind, I could see flashes of riches… hills of gold… piles of precious stones… and secrets. Ageless whispers of knowledge lost to humankind. All of it so close. All of it offered up for the taking.
Yet, something inborn fought against me, not allowing the strength needed for pushing the door open to surface. The wisp ignited further, its flames growing in intensity, changing color to bright orange. Then I felt the vibrations creeping off the entrance, onto my hand. Large thunderous rumbles, rhythmically slamming closer and closer.

“Steps.” I thought, then their pace increased to a light jog.

Whatever charged toward me in the thick cover of the cave’s murky darkness was huge but sticking around to see what it was felt fatal.

So, I turned away from the doors and ran deeper into the cavern, stumbling through the darkness. My path was only illuminated by the purplish glimmer of reflections cast by the moonlit amethyst. The walkway once again became narrow, splitting into two paths against each wall, the crevasse opening between them.
I ran down the left ledge, the footsteps now on top of me. Their booming weight shaking the foundations of the stone, crumbling it with each stride forward. Rock began shifting underneath my feet. Any more stress and it would give way. I knew I had to jump across to the other side. So, I sprang for it, but there was nothing to grab, no surface to hold onto, and while the jump cleared, I could not steady my weight and tumbled backward into the pit.
As I fell… I prayed for a quick death. Laying cripple at the bottom of a ravine sounded like a nightmare. But miraculously I hit something soft that broke my impact. The air at the bottom of the pit was warmer, the walls were no longer covered in ice, sounds of trickling water reverberated from all around. It was pitch black, but the smell... The distinct odor of death was unmistakable.

Luckily in my jacket pocket was a single misplaced flare.

(Flare ignites.)

Its light revealed piles of decomposing corpses lining the floors of the cavern.

(Large thud echos throughout the cave.)

It also illuminated what landed behind me. The creature was some sort of giant. Sixteen feet tall, maybe more. It was covered from head to toe in white matted fur. It’s physique pure muscle. An underbite on its mandible displayed long jagged teeth.

It hunched over towards me and bellowed a bone-chilling growl.

I ran. I ran down the narrowing ravine as fast as my feet could carry me. Each step in my sprint felt like the last. I anticipated it plucking me up by my head or slamming its tree-like limbs on top of me. But after what felt like an eternity, I burst out the opening of a cave on the other side of the mountain and collapsed into the pillowy snow. It was a miracle the crevasse and it was connected.
When I stood to my feet. The cave was gone. Since then, not only have attempts to locate that place again been fruitless, but the Foehn winds now seem to avoid me as well.”

The Blackridge Society urges listeners to avoid camping on the leeward sides of mountains and to be wary of… Snow Eaters.