Well, I guess this was it, the trip I've been dreaming about
for years. My daughter Emily and I were
finally heading out on our very first solo camping trip.
Just me and her, deep into the wilderness of Ravens Hollow.
I can't tell you how excited I was to share this adventure with
her. Emily was just six, but I could
see the same spark in her eyes that I used to have when my dad
took me into the woods. The drive felt like it took
forever. The road twisted and turned as
we left behind the familiar cityscape and plunged into the
thick green of the Appalachian Mountains.
Emily sat in the back, her nose practically glued to the window,
her eyes wide as she took in the tall trees and the way the light
filtered through them. Honestly, I couldn't blame her.
Those woods were beautiful, like something out of a storybook.
We made a quick stop in this tiny town just on the outskirts
of the forest. I think it might have been
called Hollow Creek or something like that, I'm not entirely
sure. The name wasn't really
important. The town itself felt kind of
forgotten, you know what I mean? Like one of those places that
time just skipped over the little general store had a
creaky old door that let out a groan when we stepped inside.
The guy at the counter gave me this odd look when I mentioned
Raven's Hollow. He had these thick glasses and a
face that seemed permanently set in a frown.
You're heading up there? He asked, like I just told him I
planned to camp on Mars or something.
Yep, just a little father daughter trip.
I replied, trying to keep it light.
He didn't say anything for a moment, just shook his head
slightly and muttered something like that.
Place can be unpredictable. I gave him a polite smile, but
honestly, it was a little weird. I mean, I figured he was just
one of those guys who liked to make a big deal out of nothing.
So I paid for our marshmallows and hot dogs and we headed back
to the car. The road to Raven's Hollow got
narrower the further we went, the trees pressing in on either
side. It was almost like they were
swallowing us up, but not in a bad way.
It felt peaceful, I guess. Emily kept pointing out things
she saw, like a deer that darted across the road and a hawk
circling up in the sky. Every time she'd see something
new, she'd let out this little gasp, and it made me smile.
This was exactly why I wanted to bring her here.
Finally, we reached the clearing.
Raven's Hollow was just as I'd imagined, a wide open space
surrounded by thick forest with a little stream running nearby.
Perfect. We got out and Emily was off
like a shot, running to pick some wildflowers.
I started setting up the tent, feeling that familiar rush of
satisfaction. There's nothing quite like
setting up camp, you know, Everything in its place, a
little slice of home out here in the middle of nowhere.
Once the tent was up and the firewood was gathered, we got
the campfire going. I showed Emily how to roast hot
dogs, and she giggled as hers caught on fire, waving it around
like a little torch. I told her all about fire
safety, though she seemed more interested in seeing just how
charged she could get her marshmallow before it fell off
the stick. As the sun started to set, I
noticed how quiet it was. Not like we're far from the city
quiet, but a kind of heavy quiet that made my skin prickle a
little. No crickets, no birds, just
nothing. I tried to brush it off, telling
myself it was just the way things were out here, but
honestly, it felt strange. Emily didn't seem to notice
though. She was busy showing me an old
rusted charm she'd found near the stream.
It looked like an eye, and the metal was so worn it was barely
recognizable. Look daddy, it's a forest
guardian. She said, her eyes shining.
I chuckled, but something about that charm made me feel uneasy.
I didn't know why, but I didn't want to spoil her fun, so I
nodded and said. Yep, looks like it.
You should keep it M, maybe it'll keep watch over us
tonight. She beamed and we tucked the
charm into her pocket before settling down for the night.
I lay there for a while after Emily had fallen asleep, just
listening to the forest. The stillness was almost
oppressive, like the whole place was holding its breath.
I told myself it was fine, there was nothing out there but trees
and shadows. Eventually my eyes started to
droop and I let myself drift off, but even as I did, I
couldn't shake that weird feeling like something was just
out of sight. Watching.
I told myself I was being silly, that this was just a normal
night in the woods, but deep down I wasn't so sure.
I guess that's the thing about the wilderness.
It's beautiful, but it's also unpredictable.
And as I finally fell asleep, I had no idea just how true those
words were about to become. I woke up suddenly in the middle
of the night. You know how sometimes you just
snap awake and you're not sure why?
Yeah, it was like that. For a second, I just lay there
staring at the roof of the tent, wondering what had pulled me out
of sleep. I could hear Emily murmuring
beside me, and it made me smile. She had this little habit of
talking in her sleep, just like her mom.
I closed my eyes, thinking I'd just drift back off.
But then I heard something else. It was faint, like a whisper,
and it definitely wasn't Emily. My heart skipped a beat, and I
told myself it was just the wind, probably rustling through
the trees. But honestly, it didn't sound
like the wind. It sounded closer.
I held my breath, listening as hard as I could.
And then I heard it again. This time it was clearer, like
someone saying Emily's name, almost like my wife's voice.
But it was off somehow. It was too calm, too flat, like
there was no feeling behind it. My stomach twisted, and I felt a
shiver run down my spine. I sat up slowly, trying not to
make a sound. I glanced at Emily, who was
still fast asleep, her tiny form curled up in her sleeping bag.
I wanted to believe it was just my imagination, but something
about that voice was all wrong. It was like it was trying to
sound like my wife, but didn't quite know how.
I unzipped the tent just a crack and peered out into the
darkness. The fire had burned down to just
a few glowing embers, and everything beyond that was pitch
black. I couldn't see anything, but I
had that feeling. You know, the one where you're
sure someone's watching you? My heart was pounding so loud I
was afraid it might wake Emily. Then I heard it again.
Emily, the voice whispered from somewhere out there in the dark.
It was soft, but it cut through the silence like a knife.
It was coming from the left, near the tree line, and this
time it sounded like my wife, but twisted, almost mechanical,
like it was a recording. I felt my whole body go cold.
I reached for my hunting knife, the one I always kept close when
we camped. My hand was shaking as I gripped
it, trying to decide what to do. I didn't want to leave Emily
alone, but I also couldn't just sit there and do nothing.
I had to protect her. Who's out there?
I called, my voice barely more than a whisper.
I didn't want to wake Emily, and honestly, I didn't want to draw
too much attention either. No answer, just silence.
I waited, my ears straining, and then I heard the whisper again,
louder this time, like it was right outside the tent.
Come outside, sweetheart, I'm here.
The voice was hollow, empty, and it made my skin crawl.
There was no warmth, no love, just words.
My wife's voice, but wrong. I knew then that whatever was
out there, it wasn't human. My heart was racing, and I felt
this fierce, protective anger rise up inside me.
I wasn't about to let anything near my daughter.
I grabbed the Lantern with my free hand and slowly unzipped
the tent the rest of the way, stepping out into the cold night
air. It was so dark I could barely
see a few feet ahead of me. I held the Lantern high, the
weak light flickering, barely pushing back the shadows.
I scanned the campsite, my eyes darting from tree to tree, but
there was nothing. Just darkness.
I wanted to believe that whatever it was had gone, but
deep down I knew it was still there.
Then I heard a branch snap, and my head whipped around.
The sound came from the edge of the clearing and I turned the
Lantern towards it, my hand tightening on the knife.
That's when I saw them. Two glowing eyes, shining from
the darkness. They were yellow at first,
almost beautiful, but as I stared they seemed to change,
shifting to a deep, angry red. The eyes were low behind a Bush,
and then they started to rise slowly.
Whatever it was stood up, and I could feel my stomach drop.
It was tall, too tall. Its shape was all wrong,
stretched and thin, like it didn't quite fit together
properly. My heart pounded in my ears as I
watched it, the Lantern light flickering as if it was
struggling to stay lit. Suddenly, Emily screamed from
inside the tent and my blood ran cold.
The creature's head snapped towards the sound and I could
see its mouth open wide and unnatural with this sickening
snap that made me want to gag. It was like it was smiling, but
there was nothing human about it.
Without even thinking, I lunged forward, slashing at the air
with my knife, yelling as loud as I could.
I didn't even know what I was saying, just noise.
Anything to get it away from my daughter.
The creature let out this high pitched shriek, a sound that
felt like it was piercing right through me, and then it was
gone, vanishing into the trees so fast I almost didn't see it
move. I stood there, breathing hard,
my eyes darting around, trying to catch any sign of it, but
there was nothing, just the dark, empty forest.
I backed towards the tent, never taking my eyes off the tree
line, and ducked inside, pulling Emily into my arms.
She was crying, shaking, and I whispered to her that it was OK,
that it was just a bad dream. But I knew it wasn't a dream.
Whatever that thing was, it had been real.
And as I held Emily close, knife still clutched in my hand, I
knew one thing for sure. We weren't safe here.
Not any more. I didn't sleep for the rest of
the night, how could I? Every tiny sound outside the
tent made my heart pound, and I gripped that hunting knife so
tightly my hands started to ache.
Emily, thankfully, had settled down, her little head resting on
my lap. I kept the Lantern dim, just
enough to cast a soft glow so I could see her peaceful face.
I tried to stay calm, you know, telling myself that maybe it was
all just a bad dream, that my mind had somehow played tricks
on me. But deep down, I knew better.
I knew what I saw. That thing, those eyes, the way
it moved. It wasn't anything natural, and
I couldn't shake the feeling that it was still out there,
lurking, watching us. As soon as the first light of
dawn broke through the trees, I felt a wave of relief.
I can't even begin to tell you how good it felt to see the sun
again. I carefully moved Emily off my
lap and started packing up our camp as quietly as I could.
My hands were still trembling and every time I looked at the
tree line, I half expected to see those glowing eyes staring
back at me. Emily woke up while I was
stuffing the sleeping bags away. She rubbed her eyes and gave me
a sleepy smile. Daddy, why are we leaving so
early? She asked, her voice still
groggy. I forced a smile, trying to keep
my voice light. We've got a long drive ahead,
kiddo. Thought we'd get an early start,
Plus I bet we can grab some pancakes on the way home.
That seemed to do the trick. Emily's eyes lit up and she
started talking excitedly about what kind of pancakes she
wanted. Chocolate chips, obviously.
I nodded along, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being
watched. It was like an itch I couldn't
scratch, a constant sense of something just beyond my vision.
With everything packed up, I grabbed Emily's hand and we
started towards the car. I kept her close, my eyes
scanning the forest, the knife still tucked into my belt.
The morning was quiet, too quiet.
No birds, no rustling leaves, just our footsteps crunching on
the path. It was like the whole world was
holding its breath. We were almost to the car when I
heard it, a rustling sound off to the side, like something
moving through the underbrush. My heart skipped a beat and I
pulled Emily closer, trying to keep my voice calm.
Let's hurry up, Em. I said, my eyes darting to the
source of the noise. For a split second, I saw
something, just a shadow darting between the trees.
It was fast, too fast to be a person.
My stomach twisted in fear, and I felt a cold sweat break out on
the back of my neck. Emily didn't seem to notice,
thankfully. She was too busy telling me all
about her dream, Something about a magical forest guardian that
protected us from bad guys. I forced a smile, nodding, but
all I could think about was getting her to safety.
When we reached the car, I opened the back door and
practically shoved her inside, locking it behind her.
I was about to get in myself when I heard it again.
That voice, my wife's voice, calling my name.
It was coming from the trees, and it sounded different this
time, angry, almost mocking. David.
It called, the word stretching out in this unnatural, twisted
way that made my skin crawl. I turned my eyes, searching the
tree line, and for just a moment I saw them, those red eyes
glowing from the darkness, watching me.
My heart pounded in my ears and I felt this mix of fear and
anger rising up inside me. I wasn't about to let whatever
this was get anywhere near my daughter.
I raised my knife, shouting. You stay away from us.
My voice echoed in the stillness, and for a moment
everything seemed to freeze. Then just like that, the eyes
were gone. The forest seemed to come back
to life. Birds started chirping and I
could hear the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
It was like whatever had been there had just disappeared.
I didn't waste any time. I jumped into the car, started
the engine and tore down that narrow Rd. as fast as I could.
I kept glancing in the rear view mirror, half expecting to see
that thing chasing us, but all I saw was the empty Rd., the
forest slowly fading into the distance.
Emily was quiet for a while, and then she spoke up.
Daddy, was something wrong? She asked, her voice small.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands on the wheel.
No, sweetheart, I lied. Just thought we'd get home a
little faster, that's all. She nodded, but I could tell she
wasn't convinced. Honestly, I wasn't either.
I knew what I saw, and I knew that whatever it was, it was
still out there, somewhere in those woods.
We stopped at a diner a few hours later, and I tried to act
normal. Emily seemed to bounce back
quickly, chattering about the pancakes and how she wanted to
go camping again. I just smiled and nodded, but
inside I felt this heavyweight, like a knot in my chest that
wouldn't go away. Before we left, I noticed the
rusted charm Emily had found back at the campsite.
She'd left it on the table while she was eating, and I picked it
up, turning it over in my hands. There was something about it,
something that felt wrong. I didn't want it anywhere near
us, so when Emily wasn't looking, I dropped it into the
trash can by the door. Maybe it was silly, but it made
me feel a little better, like I was leaving a piece of that
nightmare behind. As we drove home, I kept
glancing in the mirror, half expecting to see something out
there, something following us. I didn't see anything, but I
couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't over, that whatever
was out there in Raven's Hollow was still watching, waiting.
And as we pulled into our driveway, Emily waved at
something behind us, a big smile on her face.
I glanced in the mirror again, my heart skipping a beat, but
there was nothing there, Just the empty Rd.
Still, I couldn't help the chill that ran down my spine as I
quickly ushered her inside, locking the door behind us.
I felt like I couldn't pack up fast enough.
My hands were clumsy, fumbling with the tent poles, my eyes
darting around the clearing. Every rustle of leaves, every
sway of a branch, it all made my heart skip.
I mean, I knew that whatever was out there had retreated for now,
but it was like I could still feel its eyes on me.
Honestly, it felt like the whole forest was watching us.
Emily was still half asleep, sitting on a rock with her teddy
bear in her lap, her eyes blinking drowsily as she watched
me. I plastered on a smile, even
though my insides were twisted in knots.
How about we get some pancakes on the way home?
MI said, trying to keep my voice cheerful.
She smiled, and for a moment it almost felt normal.
Almost. Once everything was packed, I
grabbed Emily's hand. Stay close, sweetheart.
I told her. She nodded, her little fingers
gripping mine tightly. I tried to keep my eyes on the
path ahead, but I couldn't help glancing at the trees.
The shadows seem deeper now, like they were hiding something
just out of sight. I didn't hear any birds, no
rustling of animals, just this heavy, awful silence.
We were about halfway to the car when I heard it.
A rustling like something moving through the brush.
My chest tightened and I squeezed Emily's hand a little
harder, picking up the pace. Daddy, you're hurting my hand.
She said, her voice small. I loosened my grip, forcing
myself to take a breath. Sorry Em, let's just keep
moving, OK? I could feel my pulse pounding
in my ears. I glanced over my shoulder and
for just a second I thought I saw something, a dark shape
slipping between the trees. My stomach did a flip and I
turned back, practically dragging Emily along.
Now I knew I had to get her to safety, that was the only thing
that mattered. When we finally reached the car,
I felt a rush of relief so strong it almost made me dizzy.
I opened the back door and helped Emily inside, buckling
her in as quickly as I could. Daddy, what's wrong?
She asked, her eyes wide and confused.
I tried to smile, but I knew it probably looked more like a
grimace. Nothing sweetheart, we're just
in a bit of a hurry, that's all. I slammed the door shut, and
that's when I heard it. The voice.
My wife's voice, coming from somewhere deep in the woods.
David, it called, stretching out my name in that same strange,
hollow tone. My blood ran cold.
I turned my eyes, scanning the trees, and there they were,
those red eyes, glowing from the shadows.
They stared at me, unblinking, and I felt this wave of anger
and fear crash over me. I wasn't going to let that thing
get anywhere near my daughter. Not now, Not ever.
I raised my knife, pointing it towards the tree line.
Stay away from us. I shouted, my voice cracking.
The eyes narrowed, and for a moment I thought I saw a twisted
smile beneath them, a mouthful of sharp, jagged teeth.
Then, just like that, the eyes vanished.
The forest seemed to breathe again.
Birds started to chirp, the wind rustled through the leaves.
It was like whatever had been there had just disappeared.
But I knew better. It wasn't gone, it was just
hiding, waiting. I jumped into the driver's seat,
my hands shaking as I started the car.
I didn't look back, I couldn't. I just drove, the tires kicking
up dirt as we speed down that narrow, winding Rd.
I kept glancing in the rear view mirror, half expecting to see
those glowing eyes following us. But all I saw was the empty Rd.
the forest fading into the distance.
Emily was quiet for a while, her eyes on the window.
Then she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
Daddy, was something out there? I swallowed, trying to keep my
voice steady. No, sweetheart, it was just just
the wind, probably. I knew she didn't believe me,
and honestly, I didn't believe myself either.
We stopped at a diner a couple of hours later.
I needed a break, I needed to catch my breath.
Emily seemed to bounce back quickly, smiling as she dug into
her pancakes, talking about how she wanted to go camping again
soon. I just nodded, but inside I felt
like I was still out there in those woods, with that thing
watching me. Before we left, I noticed
something on the table. Emily's rusted charm, the one
she'd found by the stream. She must have taken it out of
her pocket while she was eating. I picked it up, turning it over
in my hands. There was something about it,
something that felt wrong. I didn't want it anywhere near
us, so when Emily wasn't looking, I slipped it into the
trash can by the door. Maybe it was silly, maybe it
didn't mean anything, but it made me feel a little better,
like I was leaving a piece of that nightmare behind.
The drive home was quiet. I kept glancing in the mirror,
half expecting to see something there, something following us,
but there was nothing. Just the empty Rd. stretching
out behind. When we finally pulled into our
driveway, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
We were home, we were safe. I helped Emily out of the car
and she ran up to the front door, waving at something behind
us. I felt my heart stop.
I turned, my eyes scanning the street, but there was nothing.
Just the empty Rd., the sun dipping low on the horizon.
Still, I couldn't shake the chill that ran down my spine as
I hurried her inside, locking the door behind us.
I've always liked to think of myself as someone who's
comfortable alone. Really alone.
The kind of person who can set up camp miles away from another
human and feel right at home. I've done it more times than I
can count, wandering deep into the wild places of whales where
the only company you're likely to find is whatever's hiding
behind the thick screen of trees.
It's something that used to bring me peace, but, well, let's
just say this particular trip made me question everything I
thought I knew. It started out just like any
other trip, really. I'd parked my car down an old
dirt lane that barely passed for a road, grabbed my gear, and
hiked a few miles into the forest.
The air was crisp, that perfect kind of cool that makes you want
to breathe deep and just fill your lungs.
There was a stillness that settled over everything, like
the whole world had decided to take a rest.
I found a spot by a small clearing where the trees opened
up enough for me to get a good view of the sky.
It was perfect, secluded, quiet, far from anyone or anything,
just how I liked it. I set up my tent, got a little
fire going, and relaxed with a good book.
The sun dipped below the trees in slow motion, painting
everything in a warm golden light that eventually slipped
away into shadows. The forest felt safe, cozy,
even, with the fire crackling and the stars coming out above.
The kind of night where you feel like the world's a good place,
where the line between civilization and wilderness
blurs in just the right way. But you know, there's something
funny about the woods. When the sun goes down,
sometimes all that peace and quiet can start to feel
different. You can't help but notice when
the usual rustle of leaves or distant calls of animals just
vanish. That night, as I lay in my tent,
it was like the forest decided to hold its breath.
I remember the silence being so deep it almost had a weight to
it. I figured it was just my mind
playing tricks on me. Maybe I'd scared off some
critters while settling in. It wasn't until much later that
I realized just how wrong that assumption was.
The next day was about as perfect as it could get.
I spent it hiking through the woods, stopping by a little
village for a pint at the local pub, just enjoying the simple
freedom that comes with being out in the wild.
By the time I made it back to camp, the sun was already
setting and I had a belly full of good food and a warm buzz
from the beer. The sky was clear, stars coming
out 1 by 1, and I felt that kind of contentment that only a day
well spent in the outdoors can give you.
I watched the fire burned down to embers and crawled into my
tent, more than ready for sleep. But that's when things started
to change. It was sometime past midnight
when I woke up, that kind of half awake state where you're
not quite sure why your eyes are open.
I didn't move at first, just listening, and that's when I
heard it. A sound that didn't belong.
A humming, melodic, almost beautiful, but in a way that
made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
It was too perfect. Each note held just right, no
break or hesitation. Like it wasn't a person making
that sound, but something else entirely.
I tried to tell myself it was just someone messing around,
maybe a couple of kids trying to freak me out, but there was
something about that tune, so haunting and unnatural that made
it impossible to ignore. My heart started to pound and I
could feel that prickling fear creeping in, the kind that you
can't shake no matter how hard you try to rationalize things.
I lay there for a minute, maybe more, just listening.
The sound didn't stop. It stayed steady, like it was
waiting for something. Eventually, I knew I couldn't
just lie there. I had to see what it was, so I
reached for the zipper of my tent and as soon as I started to
open it, the humming cut off just like that, like someone had
hit the pause button. The silence rushed back in,
almost deafening, and I could feel my pulse in my ears.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or scream.
Maybe it was just some prankster after all.
I took a breath and without thinking too much, yelled out
into the night, hoping it would be enough to scare off whoever
was out there. But then it came again, the
humming. Only this time it was different.
It wasn't where it had been before.
No, it was closer now, coming from the opposite direction,
somewhere it shouldn't have been able to get to that fast.
The kind of distance that makes you realize whatever's out
there, it doesn't play by the same rules as you and me.
I felt my blood run cold, a kind of fear that went straight down
to my bones. I fumble with the zipper, my
hands shaking, and forced myself to peek out.
That's when I saw it. A figure standing tall against
the tree line, taller than any person should be, with arms too
long and a head too small. It was swaying just slightly, as
if it was in time, with that haunting, impossible tune.
And in that moment, all the peace, all the comfort I'd ever
found in the woods just drained away, leaving nothing but an
emptiness I can't quite describe.
I don't know if you've ever had a moment where the world
suddenly seems wrong, where everything looks the same, but
you can feel that something's fundamentally different.
That's how I felt as I stood there, staring at that tall,
swaying figure. It wasn't just that it didn't
belong, though that much was obvious.
It was the way everything else seemed to fade away, like the
world was losing color and sound and meaning.
For a long, breathless moment, I just stood there, feeling like
my brain was struggling to catch up, to make sense of something
that had no business being in this world.
I think maybe some part of me was still hoping it was a trick
of the light, or a shadow, or hell, I don't know, a figment of
an overactive imagination. But then it hummed again, that
same melodic tune, and any illusion I had left shattered.
I've heard people talk about being scared out of their minds,
but let me tell you, I understood it then.
My mind didn't want any part of this.
It just shut down, leaving my body to figure it out.
The humming had stopped for that second I looked out, and now it
started up again. But it wasn't where it had been
before. It was closer, too close, coming
from somewhere it couldn't have moved to in that short amount of
time. I felt like I was being played
with, and that realization sent a bolt of panic straight through
me. It felt like my chest was going
to explode. I wanted to move, to do anything
besides just stand there, but fear had me locked in place.
I was rooted to the ground, staring at that thing swaying in
the shadows. I knew I had to get out of
there, but the sheer wrongness of it all held me tight.
I could hear my own breath, ragged and shallow, and I could
feel the blood pounding in my ears.
The figure. It wasn't just swaying now, it
was shifting like it was stepping closer, moving without
really moving, if that makes any sense at all.
And the humming. That's when I realized it wasn't
just humming anymore. It was saying my name over and
over, a sick, distorted version of my own voice, like someone
had recorded me and twisted the sound into something awful.
I can't really explain what that does to a person, hearing your
own voice like that, twisted and taunting.
It felt like it was trying to reach inside me, trying to pull
at something deep and raw and scared I'd had enough.
My body finally caught up with my brain, and I did the only
thing I could. I turned and ran.
I didn't care that I was leaving my tent behind or that I wasn't
wearing shoes. None of it mattered anymore.
I just ran, crashing through the underbrush, my socks getting
torn by the brambles, branches whipping against my face.
I didn't even think about where I was going, I just wanted to
get as far away from that thing as I could.
The forest was pitch black and every shadow seemed alive.
I had no idea if the thing was following me.
I didn't dare look back. All I knew was that I could
still hear it, that low, droning hum echoing through the trees
like it was bouncing from place to place, coming from all
directions at once. It wasn't right, and no matter
how fast I ran, it felt like I wasn't getting away.
Finally, I stumbled to a stop, my chest heaving, lungs burning.
I leaned against a tree, trying to catch my breath, trying to
listen. There was nothing.
No sound, no movement, just the oppressive silence of the forest
at night. I stayed like that, not moving,
barely breathing for what felt like forever.
My hands were shaking, my legs felt like they might give out at
any moment, and all I could think was that I'd made a huge
mistake coming out here. I know it sounds strange, but
part of me started to wonder if it was all in my head, if maybe
I'd just imagined the whole thing.
Fear can do that to you, you know.
It can make you see things that aren't really there, hear things
that don't exist. I wanted to believe that.
God, I wanted to believe that I'd just scared myself into
seeing shadows where there weren't any.
But the memory of that voice, my own voice, twisted and wrong,
kept me from convincing myself. After what must have been a
couple of hours, I finally forced myself to move.
My legs were stiff, my feet were sore and cold, and every step
felt like it might be my last. But I couldn't stay there
forever. I had to get back to my tent.
I had to get my phone, my car keys, something, anything to
make me feel like I could get out of there for good.
The walk back felt like it took a lifetime.
Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches made me
freeze, sure that it was coming for me.
The forest felt different now, like it was watching me,
waiting. I don't know how to explain it,
but it felt like the trees themselves were holding their
breath, like they were in on some secret that I wasn't a part
of. When I finally got back to my
camp, I could see the tent standing there, untouched, like
nothing had happened. The fire had long since died
out, and everything was quiet. Too quiet.
I didn't waste any time. I grabbed my phone and my keys
and I got out of there. I didn't bother packing up.
I left everything else behind and ran my feet, barely feeling
the cold earth beneath them as I made my way back to the car.
I don't think I've ever driven with my hands shaking that bad
before. You know that feeling when
you've just dodged something really awful, like maybe a car
that almost ran you off the road and your bodies buzzing with
adrenaline, not quite sure if you're safe yet?
That's what it felt like, only it didn't go away.
Even after I managed to get myself into the car, I couldn't
stop looking over my shoulder, half expecting that tall figure
to emerge from the dark, standing right there at the edge
of the trees. The thing is, the fear didn't
feel normal. I mean, I'd been scared before.
I'm not a stranger to that kind of adrenaline rush, especially
camping solo out here in the wilderness.
But this was different. It was as if the fear was
sticking to me like a cold sweat that wouldn't dry.
It made me feel exposed. Even sitting inside my car with
the doors locked, I knew I had to get out of there.
I turned the key in the ignition and the engine sputtered to
life, the sound echoing way too loud in the silence of the
forest. I glanced up at the rear view
mirror, half expecting to see that tall swaying figure behind
me. But there was nothing.
Just shadows, the kind that seemed to shift and move if you
look too long. I drove for what felt like
hours, even though I knew it couldn't have been more than 20
minutes, just winding down those narrow tree lined roads, trying
to put as much distance between myself and that campsite as I
could. The sky was starting to lighten
just a bit, that kind of early dawn glow that turns everything
a pale grey, but it didn't make me feel any safer.
If anything, the half light made things look even stranger, like
the world was stuck somewhere between night and day.
Not quite either one. Eventually I pulled over on the
side of the road. I was shaking too much to keep
driving, and I needed a moment to think, to breathe, to figure
out what the hell I was supposed to do next.
I leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes, and tried to
steady my breath. The car was silent, the kind of
silence that made the ringing in my ears seem even louder.
I felt like I was waiting for something, anything, to happen,
and I hated it. I don't know how long I sat
there, but eventually I decided I had to go back.
Not to stay, of course, but I couldn't just leave everything
behind. My gear, my tent, it was all
still there, and even though I knew it was stupid, the thought
of leaving it felt wrong. Maybe it was pride, or maybe I
just needed some kind of closure, but I knew I had to go
back, at least for a little while.
The drive back to the campsite felt surreal.
The sun was starting to come up, filtering through the trees, and
everything looked so normal. It made me doubt myself,
honestly. The rational part of my brain
kept trying to tell me that I'd imagined it all, that it had
been some weird dream, a trick of the dark and my own fears.
But deep down, I knew that wasn't true.
The memory of that humming, that twisted version of my own voice,
was too vivid, too wrong to just brush aside.
When I pulled up to where I'd left the trail, I hesitated.
The car idled and I just sat there, staring at the spot where
I disappeared into the woods the day before.
Everything was still, too still. I could feel that cold fear
creeping back in, telling me that I should just leave, that
nothing was worth going back for.
But I couldn't do it. I had to see for myself.
I grabbed my flashlight even though the sun was up, and I
started walking. My heart was pounding, and every
step felt like it was taking me deeper into something I didn't
understand. The woods were quiet, and not in
a peaceful way. It was like everything was
waiting, holding its breath. I kept glancing over my
shoulder, my ears straining for any sound, but there was
nothing. Just my own footsteps crunching
through the underbrush. When I reached the clearing, I
stopped. The tent was still there, just
like I'd left it. The fire pit was cold, the ashes
scattered. It looked like any other
campsite, and for a second I almost believed that I'd
imagined it All that. The figure, the voice, the fear,
it had all been some bizarre waking nightmare.
But then I saw the footprints. They were faint, but they were
there. Large, deep impressions in the
dirt leading from the edge of the clearing right up to my
tent. And they weren't mine.
The sight of them sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt that
cold sweat again, the fear that clung and wouldn't let go.
I moved quickly, grabbing my pack, stuffing whatever I could
into it. I didn't want to be there any
longer than I had to. As I was about to leave, I heard
it again. That humming, Faint, distant,
but unmistakable. It was coming from deeper in the
woods, from somewhere beyond the clearing.
My blood turned to ice. I didn't wait to see if it was
getting closer. I turned and ran, my pack
bouncing against my back, my heart pounding in my chest.
By the time I reached the car, I was out of breath, my hands
shaking so badly that I fumble with the keys.
I got in, slammed the door and locked it, my eyes scanning the
tree line. I couldn't see anything, but
that didn't mean it wasn't there, watching, waiting.
I drove away and I didn't look back.
The back seat of my car wasn't exactly the safest place in the
world, but right then it was the only spot where I felt like I
had any chance of keeping it together.
I'd parked on a small deserted lane surrounded by fields, and I
tried to remind myself that there was no way anything from
those woods could find me here. I even cracked a joke in my
head, like whatever that was had a map of all the back roads and
Wales, but honestly, even my attempts at humor sounded
hollow. I curled up on the seat, the car
keys clutched tight in my hand, ready to go at the slightest
sound. My breath was coming in short
gasps, and no matter how many times I told myself to relax, it
didn't help. I tried to close my eyes, but
every time I did, I'd see it again, that figure standing
there, swaying like it was just waiting for me to do something
stupid. My mind kept playing tricks on
me, making me think. I could hear that humming, faint
and distant. I kept telling myself it wasn't
real, but there was no shaking, that chill like the thing had
left a mark somewhere inside me. The hours crawled by.
I watched the sky turn from a dark inky blue to a pale morning
Gray, and with the light, I finally started to feel a little
bit of that fear lifting. Funny how daylight makes things
seem better even when they aren't.
It was just easier to breathe, easier to think.
When the sun was finally up. I straightened myself up in the
seat, stretched my legs, and let out a shaky breath I didn't
realize I'd been holding. Maybe it was time to go back and
grab the rest of my gear, then get as far away from this place
as I could. When I drove back to the
campsite, there was a part of me that hoped maybe someone else
had wandered through that. Maybe I'd see some other poor
campers car parked near mine. I don't know why that would have
helped, but it would have made me feel a little less alone in
all this. But of course, there was
nothing. Just my car, right where I'd
left it, and the forest looking as quiet and ordinary as ever.
I parked, took a deep breath, and got out.
The air was cold, the kind that cuts through you even after the
sun's come up. I shoved my hands in my pockets
and made my way back to the clearing.
Every step felt like it was taking me closer to something I
shouldn't be facing, but I pushed that thought down.
I'd just grab my stuff and leave, Simple as that.
The tent was still there, exactly like I'd left it.
Everything was in place, like it was all mocking me.
I started packing up, my eyes darting around the clearing,
half expecting to see a tall shadow in the distance.
Every creak of branches made me flinch, every rustle of leaves
sent a shiver through me. I couldn't shake the feeling
that I was being watched, and it made my skin crawl.
I stuffed the last of my gear into my bag, zipped it up, and
threw it over my shoulder. And that's when I heard it.
My name clear as day, coming from somewhere in the trees.
My stomach dropped, and my heart felt like it stopped altogether.
I stood there, frozen, listening.
It came again, a whisper this time, almost like it was daring
me to follow it. There was no mistaking it.
It was my voice. The exact same tone, the same
inflection, like it had been pulled straight from my own
mouth. No, I whispered to myself,
backing up, shaking my head. No, no, no.
I turned, my feet moving before my brain had even made the
decision, and I bolted. I didn't care about making noise
or watching where I stepped, I just had to get out of there.
Branches snapped under my feet and I could hear my name again,
calling out from somewhere behind me, distorted and wrong,
like a recording played backward.
My chest felt tight, panic taking over, and I ran harder,
my legs burning, the pack on my back bouncing and pulling me
down. But I didn't stop.
I broke through the tree line, nearly stumbling as I ran to my
car. I yanked the door open, tossed
my bag inside and jumped in, slamming the door behind me.
My hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries to get
the key into the ignition. When the engine finally roared
to life. I tore out of there, gravel
flying as I speed down the road, my eyes darting to the rear view
mirror. Nothing followed me, nothing
stepped out of the trees, but that didn't matter.
The humming was still in my ears, even over the growl of the
engine, and my name still echoed in my head.
It felt like whatever it was, it wasn't bound by those woods.
It wasn't something I could just drive away from.
I drove until I couldn't anymore, Until I found myself at
some roadside diner, exhausted and shaking.
I parked, rested my head on the steering wheel, and tried to
catch my breath. But that feeling of being
watched, of something lurking just out of sight, wouldn't
leave me. Even in that crowded diner
parking lot, I felt it like a shadow I couldn't escape.
I never did go back for the rest of my gear.
It wasn't worth it. I know it might sound cowardly,
but some things aren't meant to be understood, let alone faced.
And whatever that thing was, I wanted no part of it.
Not then, not ever again. For a long time I tried to
convince myself it was all in my head, that maybe I'd just lost
it out there in the woods. That fear and isolation had
twisted everything until I couldn't tell what was real.
But deep down, I knew better. The fear I felt, the way my own
voice called out to me. It was real, and sometimes late
at night when the world goes quiet, I swear I can still hear
it. The air was crisp when we pulled
up to Todd Lake Recreation Center, and I remember thinking
it was just about the perfect kind of evening for a campfire.
The sky was starting to turn that beautiful golden color and
everything felt peaceful. I glanced over at my partner,
James, and he gave me a little smile, like he knew exactly what
I was thinking. We were both excited to relax,
meet our new friends John and Mary, and maybe even make a few
memories worth talking about later.
Little did I know that evening would turn out to be one I'd
rather forget. John and Mary were already at
their campsite when we got there.
They waved us over and I noticed right away how cheerful John
seemed. He had this big welcoming smile,
and he kept talking about all the fun things they had planned,
snacks, drinks, and of course a walk to see the lake.
Mary was quieter, sort of hanging back and fiddling with
her sweater. I figured she was just a little
shy or cold, but there was something in the way she kept
glancing into the woods that made me feel, well, a bit off.
Like she was looking for something or maybe even someone.
I pushed the thought aside, telling myself I was just being
paranoid. We all settled around the
campfire and it was honestly a lot of fun for a while.
We roasted marshmallows and their dogs splashed around in
the lake for a bit, shaking water everywhere.
When he came back, John kept joking that we should all get in
for a swim, even though it was way too cold.
Mary just smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
I could tell something was bothering her, but I didn't want
to be rude by asking. Then, around 830, John clapped
his hands together and said, all right, who's ready for that
walk? He sounded really enthusiastic,
like it was the highlight of his evening or something.
James and I exchanged a look, and he shrugged.
It seemed harmless enough, just a quick walk to the lake and
back before the sun disappeared completely, so we agreed.
The path to the lake was narrow, with tall trees lining both
sides, and it was already getting pretty dark.
I remember thinking it was strange how quiet everything had
gotten. The usual forest sounds, the
birds, the insects all seemed to just stop.
I laughed it off at first, trying to keep the mood light.
Guess they're scared of us? I joked, but no one really
responded. Mary was walking just ahead of
us and I could see her shoulders were tense.
She kept glancing over her shoulder like she expected
something to jump out of the woods.
The fog started rolling in as we got closer to the lake.
It wasn't much at first, just a little mist, but soon it was
thick enough that I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.
I reached out to grab James's hand just to feel a bit more
grounded, but my fingers brushed against nothing but air.
I looked around and suddenly it felt like everyone had
disappeared. The trees, the path, even the
fog, It all seemed to swirl around me and my head started to
feel heavy, like I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I tried to call out to James, to marry to anyone, but the words
caught in my throat and everything went black.
When I woke up, I was lying on the ground and it was pitch
dark. For a second, I didn't know
where I was. The forest loomed around us,
shadows twisting in the dim moonlight that managed to
breakthrough the fog. I realized I was half on top of
James, who was still out cold, and panic hit me like a punch in
the chest. I shook him, my hands trembling,
and finally he groaned and opened his eyes.
He looked just as confused as I felt.
What, where are we? He mumbled, his voice barely
above a whisper. I didn't have an answer.
My head was pounding and my stomach twisted painfully.
Before I could even think I was on my hands and knees, retching
into the dirt. James wasn't much better off.
He staggered to his feet, only to double over again.
We had no idea where the campsite was.
We didn't even know how far we'd gone.
But the worst part, the part that still makes my skin crawl,
was the feeling that we weren't alone.
It felt like 100 eyes were on us, watching from the shadows,
just out of sight. Every time I turned my head, I
could have sworn I saw something move.
A flash of pale skin or a pair of eyes glinting in the dark.
James must have felt it too, because he grabbed my arm, his
grip tight, and said we need to get out of here now.
The walk back was a blur. We stumbled over roots and
rocks, our breaths coming out in ragged gasps.
I don't even know how long it took, but it felt like hours
before we saw the faint glow of the campfire in the distance.
When we finally stumbled into the campsite, I checked my
phone. 2:30 AM. Six hours had passed since we
left for that walk, but it felt like only minutes.
John came out of the tent when we called, his face half lit by
the dying fire. He looked at us with this weird,
almost amused expression. When we asked about Mary, he
just shrugged and said she was with you, wasn't she?
And that's when I knew whatever had happened to us out there, it
wasn't over. When I came to, the first thing
I felt was the cold. It was seeping through my
clothes, chilling me right down to the bone.
I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Dark shapes, twisted branches above, and fog swirling all
around me. I was lying on the ground, and
for a second, I couldn't even remember why I was there.
Everything felt wrong. James.
I croaked, my voice barely a whisper.
I tried to move, but something heavy was pressing down on me.
That's when I realized it was James.
He was half lying on top of me, completely still.
Panic flared in my chest. James.
I shook him, and after a moment he groaned and rolled off me.
Relief washed over me, but only for a second.
We were in the middle of the woods, and I had no idea how
we'd gotten there. James rubbed his head, his face
scrunched up in confusion. Where?
Where are we? He muttered, like he was trying
to remember a dream that kept slipping away.
I didn't have an answer. I could barely think straight
myself. My head was pounding and my
stomach felt like it was twisted in knots.
Before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees, retching into
the dirt. It was awful.
James wasn't much better. He stumbled to his feet, only to
double over again, groaning. The forest was dark, darker than
it should have been. I mean, we hadn't planned to
stay out that long. We were supposed to just take a
quick walk, see the lake, and come right back.
I glanced at my wrist, hoping my watch would tell me something
that made sense, but the glass was cracked and the hands were
stuck. It was like time itself had
stopped. I fumble for my phone, but it
was dead too, even though I'd charged it before we left.
James finally straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back
of his hand. He looked around, his eyes wide
and scared. We have to get back, He said,
his voice shaking. Where's the campsite?
I didn't know. I tried to think, tried to
remember which direction we'd come from, but everything was a
blur. It felt like my thoughts were
slipping away, like sand running through my fingers.
The fog was thick, and it moved strangely, almost like it was
alive, wrapping around the trees and hiding everything else from
view. And then there was that feeling,
that awful, creeping feeling that we weren't alone.
It felt like 100 eyes were on us, watching from the shadows.
Every time I turned my head, I thought I saw something move.
Just a flicker, something pale darting behind a tree.
I grabbed James's arm, my heart pounding.
We need to go. I said, trying to keep my voice
steady. We can't stay here.
We started walking, and honestly, it felt like we were
just stumbling around in circles.
The forest seemed endless, every tree looking exactly the same,
and the fog only got thicker. The quiet was the worst part.
There weren't any sounds, no birds, no rustling leaves, just
our own footsteps and the crunch of twigs under foot.
It was like the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting for
something. Suddenly, James stopped, his
grip on my arm tightening. Did you hear that?
He whispered. I froze, straining to listen.
For a second I thought it was just my imagination, but then I
heard it too. A low hum, almost like a buzzing
coming from somewhere deep in the fog.
It sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't natural, it wasn't
right. Let's go.
James said, his voice barely more than a breath.
We turned and started moving faster, almost running now.
I didn't care if we were going the wrong way.
I just wanted to get away from that sound, away from whatever
was out there. Finally, after what felt like
hours, we saw it. A faint glow in the distance.
The campsite. I could have cried from relief.
We stumbled into the clearing, the fire nothing more than a few
glowing embers now. I checked my phone again, and
somehow it had restarted. 230 AMI stared at the screen, my
brain struggling to make sense of it.
Six hours had passed since we left the campsite. 6 hours, but
it felt like no time at all. John.
James called out, his voice cracking.
John, are you here? A rustling sound came from the
tent, and a moment later John stepped out, rubbing his eyes.
He looked at us like we'd just woken him from a nap.
What's going on? He asked, his tone almost
annoyed. Why are you yelling?
I couldn't believe it. We were shaking, covered in
dirt, and John just stood there like nothing was wrong.
Where's Mary? I asked, looking around.
She wasn't there, and that awful feeling in my stomach just got
worse. John frowned, scratching his
head. She was with you.
He said, like it was obvious. His eyes looked past us, into
the fog, and for just a second I saw something, something cold
and empty in his gaze. She was supposed to be with you.
My heart felt like it stopped. I looked at James and he looked
back at me, his face pale. Something terrible had happened,
something we couldn't understand, and it wasn't over,
not yet. John's words hung in the air
like a bad joke. She was supposed to be with you.
He said, his voice too calm, too casual for what was happening.
I felt my heart skip a beat and I swear the world just stopped.
Mary wasn't with us. She hadn't been with us since we
left for that walk. Where could she be?
James and I looked at each other and I could see the same fear in
his eyes that I felt in my own. Something was really, really
wrong. John.
I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
We have to find her, She could be lost out there.
I pointed towards the dark woods, but John just stood
there, looking like he didn't quite understand what the big
deal was. Yeah, sure, he finally said,
shrugging like we were talking about a missing flashlight or
something. He didn't seem scared at all,
which made me even more scared. How could he be so calm?
I tried to push the thought away, but a small voice in my
head kept asking. Did John know more than he was
letting on? We grabbed our flashlights.
Mine flickered, barely holding a charge, and we headed back down
the trail. The fog had only gotten thicker,
wrapping around the trees like a blanket.
The air felt heavy, and every time I took a step, I felt like
I was being watched. It was that same feeling from
before, that eerie sense that there were eyes on us, hidden
just beyond the edge of the light.
Mary. I called, my voice echoing in
the silence. There was no answer, nothing.
Just the crunch of leaves under our feet and the distant hum of
something I still couldn't quite place.
James was beside me, and I could tell he was trying to keep it
together, but I knew him well enough to see how scared he was.
His eyes kept darting around and his grip on the flashlight was
so tight his knuckles were turning white.
John walked a little ahead of us, his pace steady like he
wasn't worried at all. He didn't even call out for
Mary. He just walked, swinging his
flashlight from side to side, and every so often he'd glance
back at us with that strange smile.
It made my skin crawl. After what felt like forever, we
finally saw her. Mary was lying on the ground,
half covered in leaves, her clothes damp and her hair a
mess. For a second, I thought she was,
well, I thought the worst. My heart dropped into my stomach
and I rushed over, kneeling beside her.
Mary. I shook her gently and her eyes
fluttered open. She looked at me, her face pale
and her eyes unfocused, like she didn't know where she was.
Are you OK? I asked, my voice barely a
whisper. She blinked, then looked around,
confusion written all over her face.
I, I don't remember. She mumbled, her voice weak.
She tried to sit up, but she winced, holding her arm.
That's when I noticed it, a small dark bruise with a strange
puncture mark in the centre. I didn't say anything, but I
felt a chill run down my spine. What could have done that?
And why didn't she remember anything?
John finally walked over, and when he saw her he just nodded
like it was no big deal. Guess you got lost, huh?
He said, his voice light, almost amused.
Mary looked at him, then at me, and I could see the fear in her
eyes. She didn't remember, and she
didn't know why she was out here.
But John, he was acting like it was all some kind of joke.
James helped Mary to her feet, and we started making our way
back to the campsite. She leaned on him, her steps
shaky, and I stayed close, glancing back at John every few
seconds. I couldn't shake the feeling
that he was watching us. Not like a friend, but like
something else. Something I couldn't put into
words. When we got back, Mary sat by
the fire, staring at the flames. She didn't say much, just kept
rubbing her arm, her eyes distant.
I wanted to ask her more, to try and figure out what had
happened, but I was scared. Scared of what she might say,
scared of what I might find out. John, meanwhile, went back to
his tent without another word. He zipped it up and that was it.
No concern, no questions, just nothing.
I looked at James and he shook his head, his mouth set in a
thin line. We both knew something wasn't
right, but we didn't know what to do.
All we knew was that we couldn't stay here, not after everything
that had happened. We should leave.
James whispered to me, his voice barely audible over the
crackling of the fire. I nodded, it was the only thing
that made sense. Whatever was going on, whatever
had happened to us, to Mary, it wasn't over, and I didn't want
to stick around to find out what was next.
That night, as we packed up our things, I couldn't shake the
feeling that the forest was watching us.
That whatever had been out there, whatever had taken those
hours from us, was still out there, hiding in the fog,
waiting. And as we drove away, the
headlights cutting through the mist, I couldn't help but glance
back, half expecting to see something staring back at me
from the shadows. But there was nothing.
Just the dark, endless woods. We didn't waste any time.
As soon as the sun started to peek over the horizon, we packed
our things. I could barely think straight.
The whole night felt like a twisted dream, but the cold ache
in my bones and the bruises on Mary's arm were real enough to
remind me it wasn't just in my head.
Whatever had happened to us out there, I just knew we had to get
away. James and I didn't even talk
about it. We just moved In Sync, packing
up the sleeping bags, tossing stuff into the trunk of the car.
John watched us from a distance, his eyes following our every
move. He didn't offer to help, he
didn't say a word. He just stood there, that
strange, almost amused smile still on his face.
It gave me the creeps, and every time I looked at him, a shiver
went down my spine. I kept thinking, why isn't he
worried? Why doesn't he care?
Mary was quiet, sitting on the edge of the campsite, her knees
pulled up to her chest. She looked like she was still in
shock, her eyes fixed on some spot in the distance, like she
was seeing something none of us could.
I wanted to comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to
be all right, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words
because honestly, I didn't know if they were true.
As we finally got everything into the car, I looked over at
James and he gave me a nod. It was time to go.
I walked over to Mary and put a hand on her shoulder.
Mary, we're leaving. I said gently.
She blinked like she was coming back from somewhere far away and
slowly got up. She didn't even look at John,
she just climbed into the back seat.
Without a word, James started the car and we pulled away from
the campsite. I watched as the fog seemed to
close in behind us, swallowing the sight and John with it.
He didn't wave, he didn't try to stop us, he just stood there,
watching us leave until he was nothing more than a shadow in
the distance. The drive back home was silent.
None of us knew what to say, and honestly, I don't think we even
had the energy to try. My head was spinning, trying to
make sense of everything that had happened.
The missing hours, the strange sounds in the woods, the way
John had acted, It all felt like pieces of a puzzle that didn't
quite fit together. And the worst part was, I had
this awful feeling that we'd only just scratched the surface.
When we finally got home, I felt this wave of relief, like a
weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
But it didn't last long. The moment we stepped inside,
the fear came rushing back. The walls of our home, which had
always felt safe, suddenly felt thin, like they couldn't keep
out whatever was lurking out there.
James tried to make us some tea, something warm to calm our
nerves, but his hands were shaking so badly that he spilled
the water all over the counter. He cursed under his breath and I
could see how scared he really was.
It made my heart ache. I walked over, took the kettle
from him and set it down. It's OK, I whispered.
We're OK now. But even as I said it, I didn't
really believe it. I could still feel that awful
sense of being watched, like eyes were on me even here, even
now. I tried to shake it off, but it
clung to me like the fog from the woods.
Later that day, James got a call.
It was from John. He didn't answer, and I was
glad. I didn't want to hear John's
voice. I didn't want to hear whatever
excuse he had for what had happened.
But then the voicemail came through, and curiosity got the
better of me. I played it on speaker, and
John's voice filled the room. He sounded different, almost
like he was laughing. Hey you guys, He said, his tone
light and casual like nothing had happened.
You should really just forget about last night, OK?
It was just a little too much fun, that's all.
No need to make a big deal out of it.
There was a pause, and then almost like he was talking to
someone else, he added. They won't remember, they never
do. I felt the blood drain from my
face. James looked at me, his eyes
wide, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
What did he mean by that? They never do.
Who were they and what exactly had we forgotten?
The worst part came a few days later.
We were still trying to put everything behind us, trying to
move on, when James's phone rang again.
This time it wasn't a call, it was a message from an unknown
number. It was a picture of his phone,
shattered lying in the dirt between 2 campsites.
Campsites 5 and 6, far from where we'd been staying.
We hadn't even realized his phone was missing.
We both stared at the photo and I felt that cold, creeping fear
all over again. I couldn't help but wonder what
had been recorded on that phone. What had we seen?
What had we forgotten? That was the last straw.
James and I decided we couldn't stay.
Not in that town, not anywhere near John or Mary or those
woods. We packed up everything, and by
the time spring came around, we were gone.
But even now, miles away, I still can't shake the feeling,
the sense that we barely escaped something far worse than we can
understand. I see it in my dreams sometimes,
shadows in the fog, whispers that I can't quite hear, and
John's face smiling that cold, empty smile.
And I know deep down that whatever happened that night
isn't over, Not really.