As I finished up I thought about the noises outside. It was animals, that was all. They were freaked out by me walking by and warning each other. Either that or purposely scaring me.
Everything at this stupid camp was trying to terrorize me for its own sick pleasure—the ranger telling his stupid stories, the animals in the forest. Even the campground manager freaked me out, always scanning the trees for something and acting nervous.
I cursed them all while flipping the deadbolt and pushing open the door. I pulled my shoulders back and tipped my chin up. I wasn’t going to let fear get to me out here. This trip was the start of me putting fear behind me, leaving it back home with my family and their stupid ghosts. Even if I accidentally brought a piece of a haunted house with me on the trip. I frowned, looking at my finger again.
Outside the bathroom was basked in yellow light. Down near my sandals, long daddy spiders walked in jerky movements. The small street before me curled into the darkness. My eyes burned into the tree line but there was nothing. No noise, no movement.
My dry tongue ran across my lip and I started to head back, clicking back on the flashlight. I needed to drink an entire bottle of water then fall asleep right away. Drunk and scared in the middle of the woods wasn’t a good look on me.
As soon as I made it around the curve the noises started again. Louder. The chitters were all around revealing they had been waiting.
Whatever it was—animals, demons, creatures—it was after me and the noise was so loud it morphed into screeching.
I took off, my sandals pressing into the street and biting into the top of my feet. Terror sliced through me. My back felt ice cold with a million goosebumps. The trees shook, the screeching surrounding me, echoing and joining together.
What if it really was something truly dangerous—something real, not my imagination running wild? What if it was boars that could gut me with their tusks? I didn’t even know if they lived in the area but the image stuck. A whole hoard of bloody snouts, snorting out the stench of rot from their mouths as they trampled me to the ground squealing heinously, greedy mouths snapping open and shut.
It wouldn't take much. They were made for gutting things.
The screeches morphed into the hellish squeals of hogs in my mind. I panted roughly and careened into camp.
The noises abruptly stopped.
The trees didn’t shake. The chittering and screeches were gone.
I took deep breaths of air as I leaned against the SUV, considering pulling open the handle and slipping inside to stay with Caspian. My heart began to slow and I took calmer breaths.
A soft brushing noise of movement made my eyes round to saucers. The sound of plastic and metal came from the picnic table, our items being moved around. I heard the crinkle of a chip bag.
I didn’t want to look but it felt unsafe not to know what the danger was. Breath came staggering from my mouth before I swallowed. My eyes swept the dark shadows around me as the quiet noises of movement continued.
Don’t let fear rule you, I told myself. Slowly and soundless I inched forward, my entire body shaking as I peered around the back of the SUV.
Tiny shining eyes looked over at me and stilled.
Raccoons. Furry bandits shoulder-deep in our food for the week. A whole freaking pack of jerkhole raccoons eating our food after they’d terrorized me on the street. That stupid chitter I’d been hearing in the dark was theirs. Anger bubbled up to eat away the fear. I barrelled forth in a swift rage.
“You little thieves!” I hissed, rushing them. The bastards started gathering my food in their paws, making sure to get as much as possible before running into the forest with it. Everything minus the cooler food was being dragged away by little clawed hands.
As I got to the picnic table I spied the egg cartoon open and half the eggs were missing. The other half were broken shells and the thick liquid inside had been slurped out. The thought of raw eggs sliding into a hungry, suctioning mouth made me feel nauseated.
“Agh!” I cried out at them. The raccoons were just at the edge of the forest, moving slowly with their hoard of our food. I darted into the trees, letting my anger push away any fear. My stomach still pinched and my heart still raced but I didn’t let it reach my mind as I scrambled around with a pack of raccoons, cursing their mothers and fighting them for half-destroyed bags of bread and my boxes of pop tarts.
I lunged at the fat one holding my cherry pop tarts and ended up with a face full of dirt. I looked over and saw a raccoon on its hind legs, waving around my jiffy pop in a taunt.
“You can’t even eat that!” I cried in offense. At this point, it felt personal. I scrambled up and ran towards the jiffy pop raccoon. It dropped to all fours, shoved the handle in its mouth, and ran away.
“No!” I swung around and ran after one holding an unopened chip bag. It leapt away and I chased after it. Twigs smacked my face and I had to spit out a leaf.
This went on for a few more minutes, me collecting leaves in my hair and growing more frustrated as the entire collection of raccoons went chittering deeper into the forest, leaving me panting and stomping the ground. They almost sounded like they were laughing at me.
“I hate raccoons now,” I huffed. They were no longer cute little mischievous fluffballs. They were agents of chaos and destruction and they were rodents—oversized rats.
My eyes swept the area as I grumbled my hatred. Then it hit me... I was in the dense forest, away from my campsite, in the dark with no trail.
The earlier fear slithered up my spine, making my fingers begin to tremble slightly. For a moment, the only thing I did was stand there in complete silence, feeling as if I’d turned into stone. My ears and eyes strained in the darkness and the strong sensation of being watched pressed on my skin, making my heart thump loud in my ears.
This is how people got lost in the woods. They walked in, thinking they could find their way out but got turned around and never made it back out. I didn't even have the benefit of light.
