Chapter Text
1
It was a common place for hikers as well as campers. Oakside Park was known for its winding nature trails, gurgling brooks, and crisp mountain air.It’s friendly and family atmosphere brought people together with week long camping trips.
Some weekends, there were fishing competitions in the largest river running through the park. Salmon and trout would fight their way upstream in the spring and fly-fishermen knew it was perfect ground. The man who could catch the most salmon or trout in the quickest time would receive a prize. But most would generously donate their prize to the Park instead of taking it for their own.
But there weren’t fishing competitions anymore.
Ever since that girl went missing during one. The competitions ceased and admittance into the park was restricted. Newspapers and headlines were bold and loud: Young girl went missing during Oakside Park’s 12th Annual Fishing Competition.
Police asked questions, investigated other fishermen and families attending the competitions for clues but none were found. The same answer came: she was there, playing at the edge of the water and then she wasn’t. Police searched up and down the river for any signs of her body in theory that she may have tumbled in. No traces were found.
It took ten whole years for Oakside Park to pick itself back up after that. Rumors had started that she had been kidnapped and they were loose upon the several hundred acres of the park. Others said that the kidnapper was a ranger of the park. Eventually, those rumors faded and so did the memory of the girl. Hikers and campers came back to the park.
The fishermen never did.
I was a usual hiker. I had broken in my hiking boots on Oakside Park’s trails. I learned how to climb cliffs and how determine herbs from poisonous weeds. The Park’s tall pines and granite trails taught me much.
This insistence, I planned on staying the weekend; hiking during the day and finding a usual camping spot at the crest of a hill to rest for the night.
I greeted the park ranger at the entrance of the Park with a small wave. His name was David Thomas and he had been employed at the Park since the very beginning. He was nearing the end of his prime but he enjoyed his work. He followed me to where I parked and upon getting out of my car, he called over. The sound of my heavy car door slamming shut muffled him out.
“I’m sorry?” I called.
“I said, what are you up to today, Pat?” the ranger asked.
“Just some usual hiking. I’m thinking about staying the weekend as well.”
The look on David’s face changed immediately upon hearing that. It went from his usual genial smile to a flattened grimace. “That sounds like a lot of fun there, Pat. Have a good one!” his words betrayed his expression.
Only slightly put-off by his odd behavior, I continued about my way. With my hiking bag and my worn boots, I started off into forest. I glanced over my shoulder only once to see David standing there, watching me depart. David didn’t usually act like this. He was an outdoorsman and an enthusiast for staying within the park whether for a day long tripor a weekend long retreat, he didn’t sound very pleased to know I was staying a few nights.
I tried not to let it get to me.
I didn’t need a map; I knew Oakside Park like the back of my hand. I went through the five mile trails up the mountain within the Park’s parameters and down again, ate lunch by the river, and went to go make camp. The camping spot on the hill overlooked a majority of the park and you could see for miles.
But as I looked upon the blankets of pines, something didn’t seem right. In fact, the entire park was off beat. There was a silence; a silence I didn’t recognize. There was a lack of activity, human and wildlife, except for the eerie coo of a dove every so often.
A coldness settled in my belly. Maybe David’s words were getting to me more than they should have. Maybe he had had a bad morning, maybe there was a death in his family that tainted his words but I still couldn’t shake this creeping feeling from taking over me.
As night fell and the doves settled in their nests, a thick, impenetrable silence cloaked the landscape. Every sound was magnified, every shift I made in my windbreaker itched my inner ear, every crackle of the fire sounding like footsteps. The bleak amber light from the campfire should have assured me but it did just the opposite. It cast ugly, stretched shadows across the campsite and the only thing I could think about was the story of that girl gone missing, about the rumors that it was because of some lunatic loose in the park.
But they were just rumors weren’t they?
They had to be.
I couldn’t shake the thought from my head that there was something following me, watching me this entire day without my knowledge.
Come on, Pat. You’re not eight years old anymore. I thought. You don’t believe in those rumors... do you?
A scream.
A single tone. A single strangled cry of terror. Whether it was female or male, I couldn’t tell.
Fear seized me, crawling across my skin and jolting me from my seat position. My flashlight was immediately in my hand and switched on, shakely training the surrounding brush. I couldn’t tell if it was a few miles away or a few feet away.
Not even my flashlight could penetrate the blackness of the night. The moon was dormant and not a star twinkled. There was no light for miles except for my lone, dim flashlight and my campfire.
A slight, prickling breeze swept through the camp site, rustling every shrub and every tree. A howling started and without any thought, I stamped out my fire and hid in my tent. The thin, canvas my only protection against the sudden wind and the impeding owner of the scream. Shivers quaked through my body. I wasn’t sure if I was cold or terrified.
Maybe staying here a weekend wasn’t such a good idea. I decided right then I would leave in the morning.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.