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Pulling out a flashlight and the novel I packed, I read in the darkness for a long time until I finally fall into a restless sleep. The world might be a stage, but right now, I’m forgetting all of my lines.
I’M HOT AND SWEATY when I wake up the next morning. A quick glance at my watch lets me know I slept until noon and the sun is high in the sky. Thus the sweat. I break down my tent quickly, pack everything up, and keep walking. My journey isn’t over yet.
When I first decided to go camping in Westbridge Forest – AKA “The Forbidden Forest – I had an idea of what it would be like. The reality is quite different. It’s beautiful, for one thing. I suppose I always pictured the forest as being dark and dim with very little life. There are rumors in Westbridge about the forest itself: rumors that it’s a terrible place.
Some people even think it’s haunted.
I know it’s nonsense, of course, and now that I’m here, I can’t help but wonder why those rumors permeate so much of the town’s folklore. I’ve lived in Westbridge my entire life and I’ve never heard of the forest being a pretty place. I’ve never heard of the flowers that grow here. I’ve never heard of the creeks that run through it.
Here they are, though.
And here I am.
I keep walking, stopping occasionally to check my map and compass. I only have a week off of work. Then it’s back to teaching English to high school students. I love my job, but I’m glad I have some time to just be alone and think for a little while. Sometimes things at work get so busy that I never really get to just relax.
That time is now.
I’m heading for a place called Stone Tower. It’s one of those local urban legends I’ve always wondered about and now I’m going to find out if it really exists. Then, if I have time, I’ll go try to find one of the little forest towns that, again, might not even be real.
I’m pretty good with a map, and by the time the sun is starting to set, I’m pretty sure I’ve found it. The Stone Tower. It’s huge, really, and unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I drop my backpack, pull out my camera, and snap a few pictures. The moon is going to rise soon and I’ll take some more.
No one knows who built this tower, or any of them. Supposedly, there are at least half a dozen of them in the woods. There have been stories written about them and fables and songs, but these things are so deep in the woods that no one ever treks out here.
I found it, though, and a wave of satisfaction rolls over me. I did it. I might not be good at relationships and I might not be good at keeping a steady boyfriend, but I did something right. I found this thing, and I’m going to fucking camp here.
I pitch my tent, start a fire, and sit around it with my book. It’s warm, but not hot, and I’m glad because I can really enjoy the evening air as it cools. Besides, I never get enough time to read. Soon I’m so engrossed in the story that I don’t notice anything else: not the air growing cooler, not the sky getting darker, not my fire growing dimmer.
Then suddenly, the fire goes out, and I’m thrust into darkness.
“Fuck,” I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small, emergency flashlight. My bigger flashlight is in the tent already with the rest of my stuff. Flicking on the little light, I shine it around. For a second, I thought I heard something. Someone. I didn’t, though. Everything’s fine.
Everything’s okay.
Everything’s normal.
It is late, though, and I should really be getting to bed, so I move toward my tent and start to unzip it.
Then I do hear sounds.
Noises.
Laughter.
That can’t be right.
Who would be laughing in this part of the forest? Who would be out here in the middle of the night? I’m supposed to be completely isolated. No one should be around for miles, yet I can distinctly hear laughter. There are two different people laughing, actually, and they sound like women.
So, what do I do?
I don’t know what the proper etiquette is in a situation like this.
Should I go let them know that I’m camping nearby, but that I won’t bother them?
Do I ignore them and do nothing?
What if they’re hunters and they accidentally shoot me? That could happen, right?
I’d better go say something.
