If you're in a small mountain town, never wait outside of Ken's Market

When I was younger, maybe 12 or 13, me, my parents, and my little sister went to a really small town in the mountains for a weekend trip together. I think that at the time, my mom had the idea, because she loved the outdoors, and missed hometown filled with big trees and bright skies. I think my dad just agreed to it because my mom is really hard to argue with when she sets her mind to something. So on a Spring Thursday, me and my sister got out of school, came home, helped pack the car, then headed out to a cabin up in the mountains. For personal reasons I won't say the name of the town, but just take my word for it, you have never heard of it.
It was a long ass ride let me tell you. Four people and a tiny dog with motion sickness do not belong in the same small as **** truck my Dad drove at the time. Not to mention my dog is very old and he doesn't really do much these days besides lay around, hence the motion sickness.
When we got to the town, there was one thing for certain, and that's that the town was tiny. It had a really small fire station and that was it. The police department area counted as a police station and if you needed serious medical help, you went there until an ambulance could come up from down the mountain. The only other places around were gas stations, or small stores.
The only people who really lived in the area were elderly couples who wanted to live the rest of their days among the peacefulness of the trees. The rest of the homes belonged to the people who had jobs at the stores, or to rich business men who bought run down homes, fixed them up, then rented them out. My family just happened to be one of those renters.
Eventually, we got to our cabin, which was a small and painted a strange green, with a deck and fairy lights strung up. It was a strange little place, but the inside was rather comfortable and cozy. So, before we unloaded, all of us took a quick nap, tired from the drive. About an hour later, when we finally got around to unpacking all of our things (coolers of food, my dog's dog bed, bags, etc.) it had become abruptly clear that something was missing. My little sister's bag was no longer in the back of the truck, and no matter how much my sister began to argue, insisting she had put it in the back, my mom and dad didn't believe her.
So we acted fast, all of us piling back into the truck once again, along with the dog, as he was old and we didn't want him to be alone. It was fairly late by the time that we had realized the bag was gone, we had already, so we had to make haste, and traveled back into the little town, stopping at a few places. Finally, my mom came out of the store, and said the shop owner had suggested a place called "Ken's Market". Apparently it had everything someone would need to have for an unprepared trip.
So my Dad drove to the parking lot, and threw the door open, the rest of my family following him.
As I began to get out, he demanded, "Max. Stay put."
"What? Why?"
"Natalie needs clothes and your mom and I need to grab things. Someone needs to stay with Frankie, in case he starts feeling sick. I'm gonna leave the car keys in okay? Stay put." There was no arguing with my Dad. He was one of those old school 'do as I say or deal with the consequences' kinda guy. I knew this, and decided not to argue further, and simply nodded saying 'alright dad.'
My Dad quickly smiled at me before slamming the door shut, and running after my sister and Mom. I sighed and my dog crawled over to me and curled up in my lap, and fell into a pretty deep sleep, like old dogs usually do. I leaned my head against the window and stared into the treeline, looking at the small bushes and large trees that stretched up into the sun. The treeline was right across the road and up a hill, but since it was late, there was no cars or foot traffic anywhere. So it was just me, my dog, and the trees.
But it wasn't much longer until I started to get bored. I was a teen boy, and sitting still with nothing to occupy my mind was basically impossible. It didn't help that my parent's awful country music droned on and on. So, focusing my attention away from the treeline to Ken's. It was a huge ass white building, it reminded me of a New Orleans building that you saw people throwing beads off of in Mardi Gras, really old but elegant.
Now around this age, I had begun to get really into architecture, designing and drawing buildings. So, since I had nothing better to do, I decided to get out of the backseat and grab a reference picture of Ken's so I could draw it at a later time. But like I said, this was a big ass building, angled weirdly, and at least two stories. So I got out of the car, after pushing my sleeping dog slowly off my lap, and stepped back to get a good angle. But since Ken's was so big, I kept stepping further and further back.
Instinctively though, I suddenly had a strange feeling in my gut, a feeling that said "get back in that car now." Let me tell you, when you first get that feeling, you always just feel like you're being paranoid. But due to the way I was raised, because of past experiences, my parents taught me that I needed to always follow those instincts. So I did. After quickly snapping a picture from where I was, I got back inside the car, slamming the door shut. After that, I looked out of the window towards the treeline once again. And I realized there was something there that wasn't a tree, or bush.
It looked to be the figure of a man, although I could've been wrong, they were so far away I could hardly make them out. Of course, I sighed, relieved. It was probably just a hiker who got lost or something, or had stopped for a break. From the way I saw the silhouette, it was either facing directly at my car, or directly away. The first thing that really put me off was the body seemed to be swaying side to side.
The weirdest part though? From the distance, I was just watching them swaying at what seemed to be the hips. Sway, pause, sway, pause. Slowly it was like the swaying became more intense. It was like watching a runner stretch, you know with arms above their head, slowly bending from side to side, one leg extended out. Except this person didn't have their hands above their head, and they weren't doing it slowly.
I watched as this person would bend from side to side sporadically, legs directly under them, insanely aggressive and everytime the bending would be deeper and deeper, side to side. My dog at this time, who like I said was very old, got up from his sleep, got on my lap, and pushed his face into the glass, growling. It was like nothing I had ever seen him do, even when he was a lot younger. He had never been this aggressive or protective. And all I could do at the time was stare in horror as almost suddenly the sporadic tilting stopped.
It was just me, watching this silhouette facing me, bent at a perfect 90 degree angle. My dog began to lose his ****, barking, and pushing his paws into the glass, trying to jump through almost. I was petrified, but something held my eyes there, unblinking. Probably the pure terror in my system, or something paranormal, I'm not sure. But I never once looked away.
Eventually, I watch as it slowly became straight again. Then, the thing bent to the other side, once again a perfect 90 degree angle, and grabbed something, what I thought at the time to be a gun bag, which only scared me more. It lifted it above it's body that was still bent. Slowly though, it dragged whatever it had grabbed and stepped back into the woods. Still at that perfect 90 degree angle.
A couple minutes later my parents came back with my sister, and entered the car, freaking out when they saw me curled up on the car floor, having a panic attack. After I had calmed down they talked to me and I told them what I saw. They froze and looked at each other. When I asked what was wrong they shook their heads and said nothing. For the rest of the trip though, they were very much on alert, and you could basically feel the worry and panic seep out of my mom and dad anytime my sister and I tried to leave the cabin to explore. One of them always insisted on coming with us because it was a "family trip". Even if we were sitting on the deck, we were always accompanied. And while I was still on alert the whole trip, as days went by, and months after the trip, I had completely forgot about that thing, until now.
You see, I'm 23 now, with a little girl of my own. She's my pride and joy, and I want to protect her with everything I have. You see, recently she's been having really bad nightmares, about someone she calls "the scary bendy man." Which made me think of the past, of the time in front of Ken's. I didn't want to be right. But, when I did some digging about the town we went to (asked my mom, looked it up etc.) just so I could see into the monster of my past, it turned out that ever since Ken's Market was built, around 1956, every couple of months kids would go missing, from ages 8-14. But for some reason, there's never been a police investigation. Once the bodies of the kids are found in the woods, already placed in body bags, the children are returned to the family for a proper burial, until the next kid is found dead. And while nobody has really seen who the kidnapper is, people have said that they'll see a man across the road in the treeline when they're with their kids. The ballsy ones who try to shout at him will never see him walk away or disappear. The person, or thing simply just ceases to exist in front of your eyes, as the sources say. But, it doesn't seem to like animals. So why hasn't anyone gone after it? The only real answer I can come up with is that they're scared. Better the children that those selfish *******s, right? The worst part of all this? The kids who didn't disappear right away would tell their parents about a nightmare they had. They would always talk about "The bending man."
So, after all this, after all that I've told you, I'm begging you. Don't wait outside of Ken's. Don't leave your children unattended in front of there. And for God's sake if they tell you about a "bending man" You listen to them. You protect them with your life. Or else that may be the last time you see your child alive.


Source.