Writing Prompt

Move, I feel a move, someone is moving around me. “Laugh, smile, it’s your last time.” I open my eyes, and scream, there is no one beside me , but who does this lullaby belongs to? I start seeing a shadow, is someone standing here, staring down at me? The shadow keeps growing bigger and deeper and it surrounds me. I fall in this strong embrace and my world goes black for the first time. Three words are all that I have: where are you?

     It won’t be that dark forever, only in this one dream.
    But I wake up to see that this is my reality

I think it was a rustling outside the tent that woke me. I can’t be sure, my head feels as though it’s been replaced with cotton wool as I heave myself onto my elbows in an attempt to wake myself properly. It had been pretty windy when we’d turned in, the sound of the wind blowing through the trees acting as our lullaby as we attempted to find sleep. But now… There’s no wind.

It’s dark. So dark. The kind of dark where your eyes begin to play tricks on you, shadows and shapes dancing across my periphery.

My first thought upon waking is how quiet it is.

My second thought is how wrong that feels.

Something woke me up, but now it’s a type of deafening silence where I can’t help but hold my breath.

I reach across for my sister who’s sleeping next to me, wanting to be sure that whatever woke me didn’t freak her out as well.

“Mia?” I whisper.

My hand reaches blindly, my fingers touching the cold fabric of her sleeping bag. I reach a little further, not quite feeling brave enough to get out of my own sleeping bag to locate her.

I try once more, making my voice slightly louder this time, but still no response.

Worry begins to gnaw away at my stomach, and something urges me to get out of my sleeping bag. I know that the torch was somewhere near my head when we went to sleep, so I fumble around for it, momentarily sighing in relief when I find it.

I pause. Why does it feel like I shouldn’t be turning it on?

But… I need to check that Mia’s okay.

After a moment’s hesitation, my thumb finds the button and the tent is soon engulfed in a small beam of warm light that blinds me for a second.

I point the torch towards Mia, and my stomach drops immediately.

She’s not there.

Her empty sleeping bag is strewn haphazardly across the floor of the tent, and she’s nowhere to be seen.

Panic then engulfs me.

Where has she gone? Why has she left? She’s scared of the dark, there’s no way she’d leave without me. Without the light.

My breathing becomes ragged as I wriggle out of my sleeping bag fully, rising up on to my knees just to make sure she’s not hiding in the corner somewhere. But realistically, how many places are there to hide in a 2-man tent?

A noise outside, something like twigs snapping under foot, catches my attention.

I hold my breath once more, my hands shaking as I aim the torch light down towards the ground.

Slow, heavy, deliberate footsteps.

Pausing, then walking once more, before pausing.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that those footsteps certainly do not belong to my sister.

And there was nobody else around when we’d pitched our tent.

The footsteps resume once more, except this time, they’re not slow. More twigs snapping, the sound of heavy boots on the forest floor edges closer and closer.

My entire body runs cold and I quickly shut off the torch, still holding my breath as the footsteps come to a stop outside the tent.

Silence. For what feels like an eternity.

Then, the voice that calls out to me makes me scream. And that’s the last thing that I remember.

“Please, please answer me.” I dial my mom’s number and call her for the sixth time. “Mom, where are you? I’m really scar-“ I can’t talk. My throat feels like someone is pulling my voice out of it, and it hurts like hell. My face is drenched in tears and my head hurts so much that I just want to lay down and never get up again.

When I accept that my mother is not going to answer, I throw my phone to the other corner of the tent. Gone. They’re all gone. Dad, Mom, Carson. They left. Or maybe they were taken. But I would have heard that happen, right? As I lay on my sleeping bag, my tears racing down my neck, I start to hear raindrops patter on the tent. “No. No, no this isn’t happening right now. This has got to be a nightmare.” I convince myself that it is, only a nightmare, and try to fall asleep.

But the rain falls harder, and suddenly I’m panicking. My breathing becomes short, and I’m continually gasping for air. All the while, more tears are falling and I’m grabbing my brother’s blue pillow and squeezing it as hard as possible.

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening!” The rain is still heavy, and I lift my head up from Carson’s pillow after seeing a light. It had to be a light of some kind. A flashlight? Was someone out there? Could it be Mom, or Dad? The rain pour has eased into a drizzle. I look through the tent, and the light moves. It slowly goes left, then back to where it was.

I put the pillow down and reach for my phone. It’s 1:24 A.M. Nothing makes sense right now. Mom hates the dark. I know that she wouldn’t get up and leave the tent at this hour. Dad may act like he’s a camping master who has no fears, but he’s just as scared of the dark as Mom. And Carson... they wouldn’t have left me behind. I know it.

The light reappears, and I notice that it’s become brighter. I wipe my warm face, my head still aching from my tears. I get up to slowly unzip the tent, even though every part of my body wants to stay put. “What the-“. I hear a sharp ding. My phone’s screen becomes bright, and I pull it closer to my face. It’s from a number that I don’t recognize. I type in my password and go to my messages. There’s only one new message and it’s from an unknown number.

“If you go looking for answers, you’ll find something you wish you hadn’t.”

At this point, I’m shaking. I look at the time, which is now 1:27 A.M. To make matters worse, I’m in an area with very poor cell service. I begin dialing my mom’s number. As it rings, I’m trying to contain my breathing. “Please, Mom.. please be okay.” She doesn’t pick up. I try two more times, with the same result. “Dad, you better answer the phone.” My voice breaks as I say it aloud. He doesn’t pick up. I’m about to start sobbing again when I hear something move. It sounds like someone dropped a bag. I grip onto my phone hard, not sure what I should do. I hear footsteps, like someone is quickly coming to my tent.

I quickly grab my backpack, and pull out a book. This is the worst possible defense against an attacker, but what else do I have? That’s when the light I saw earlier shines right through my tent. Someone is standing right outside of the tent. My heart is pounding out of my chest now. They get lower to the ground, and start feeling for the zipper. I back up to the far end of the tent, holding my library book in front of my chest. The stranger starts unzipping the tent slowly. I close my eyes, accepting that I’m likely not going to make it through this, when the opening falls and I see a person crouched down in front of me.

“You don’t have to be scared, dear. Everything is going according to plan.”

                       To be continued, maybe?

“Hannah wake up” Roy shakes me out of my deep sleep. I crack one eye open. “What” I say as I roll over and stretch my arms out grazing what I think was his nose. I pull back my arm and drive it forward with full force. I hear Roy groan in pain.

“What the f—“ Before he has a chance to finish his complaint, I hear the sound of nails scraping along the outside of our tent.

“Come out, come out” an eery voice sings. I sit up and scoot back towards my brother. “Roy, did you hear that?” I whisper. He doesn’t respond so I look over to my left and my eyes meet with pitch black ones. “Found you” she coos.

Her pale face stares back at me. Blood dripping from the bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. I scream, but I can’t hear myself. She reaches forward to grab me causing me to cramble backwards.

My breathing picks up and I begin to hyperventilate. I could already imagine my autopsy report. ‘Manner of death: Probably Homicide by ghostly pale bullet hole lady. Cause of death: Hyperventilation caused by anxiety attack in response to ghostly pale bullet hole lady’.

As I claw at my throat forcing it to down more oxygen, the woman comes into view. “You can’t escape me, Hannah, not even in your dreams”. I yell bloody murder, and this time, I hear myself loud and clear.

I wake up yelling.

I sit up and wipe the tears from my eyes. I look over to see an empty sleeping bag.

“R-Roy?” my voice shakes. Where was everyone? I hear nothing but the rustle of the trees outside of the tent and my breathing. The wind begins to pick up outside. I snap out of it and pat around me to locate my phone. Once I feel the familiar rectangular shape graze my fingers I grab it and immediately call Roy.

I hear the familiar ring tone playing outside in the distance. Why is he outside at this hour? I am too scared to leave. I hang up and text him.

‘Why are you outside? Come back in I had an awful dream. Are you in mom and dads tent?’ I press send.

Five minutes pass and I receive no answer. This was very unlike Roy. That man always had his phone glued to his hand.

I hear a twig snap.

“Hannah” the familiar voice sings. Tears fall down my cheeks and I begin to shake uncontrollably.

No.

“Roy can’t come to the phone right now. He had somewhere to…be” she giggles. I flinch as she scrapes her nails outside my tent. Her shadow gets closer to the entrance of my tent. I cover my mouth with both hands to stifle any noise that threatened to spill out of my mouth.

The zipper slowly travels down, the sounds paralyzing me more each second.

Her fingers wrap around the flap and pull it aside. Her head pokes through. Her black eyes meet mine. Her smile is sinister.

“Found you” she growls.

My vision blurs. Beads of sweat are slick on my forehead, but an odd breeze forces it’s way across my neck. I blink the deliriousness out of my eyes and look for the source of the weird wind. The tent still stands around me, but 3 jagged lines tear the fabric. Shreds of moonlight scatter the floor of the tent. I look around.

Where did everyone go?

A low growling resonates into my bones. The wind carries the sound. My eyes widen with the fear that strikes my gut.

Suddenly, a loud humming sound goes off. Frantically, I searched everywhere, throwing objects in every direction. Bingo: the walkey-talkies.

I push the button down, “Hello? Where is everybody?” I whisper into the device.

Nothing but the sound of a TV with no signal.

“Hello?” I try again. Listening harder I notice something. Something that gave me hope but soon took it away. The noise went up and down. Up and down. Breathing. Someone was breathing on the other end. “I hear your breath. Stop messing around.” I confront the noise and soon hear it stop.

Cackling. Deep horrible cackling. The voice of a maniac.

“Stop. Where’s my parents.” I demanded answers.

“You’ll find out. Soon.” Undoubtedly a male, his voice sinks deep into me with its low hum.

“Tell me where. Now. Leave us alone.” I try to keep the strength in my voice, but it falters. The mike goes silent.

I wait. Listening to the sounds of nature’s unruly creatures. The crickets quiet and the animals of the night scurry away. I strain my eyes, peering into the moon-lit forest, looking for signs of danger.

Suddenly all noise seize to exist. It was as if my ears no longer heard. I felt cold, calmly hands clasp both my shoulders. I froze, not daring to make a move.

“Soon.” “Soon.” The voice behind me echoed through the walkey-talky. Without looking back, I knew the culprit wore a sickeningly vile smile.

It took hours of staring at the dimly lit orange ceiling of the tent before Kai could actually fall asleep. Since when was nature this silent? Who could sleep without a few car horns or sirens going off? And the sleeping accommodations. He never realized sleeping on the ground would be so, well, hard. Maggie and Asher, though, they slept like a baby with warm s’mores in their bellies and the promise of a morning hike on their minds.

When Asher had told Kai and Maggie his hopes for a camping trip, their reactions couldn’t have been more polarized. Maggie started packing right away. Kai was still trying to understand the concept of the closest hotspot being twenty miles away. But, he wouldn’t be “Superdad” if he said he’d rather have a double root canal than go into the middle of Syken National Park and “rough it”.

Like everything else in his life, he felt it was best to approach it with a healthy dose of research. After figuring out the best tent and camping equipment to buy, he regrettably looked up what to watch out for when camping. Results included bears, rabid raccoons, bees, biological mutations, cultists, serial killers, and abandoned nuclear testing facilities. Of course, every iota of Kai told him to cancel the trip. If it wasn’t for his son’s extreme excitement, he would’ve, too.

Yet, despite the stress of packing and planning and plotting, it worked out pretty well. He breathed in the fresh air of the pristine woods and only sucked in three gnats. He only tried to get reception seventy times the first day. He did cry a little when he walked into a sticker bush, though.

Kai found himself finally asleep, dreaming longingly for strong cellular signals and streaming services. Yet, once again, he felt out of place and woke up. He sat up to look at his peacefully sleeping wife and son, hoping such a beautiful sight would lull him back to a serene slumber. Yet, instead, his heart dropped to oblivion.

They were gone.

In a heartbeat, an instant, all logic fled his mind and panic flooded inward, striking his heart. His lips were trembling. His throat went dry. His breathing went faint. And this is where his mind went.

Clearly, a serial killer had been in these woods from the very beginning. Perhaps he even lured his son into somehow subliminally wanting to go camping. Then, he altered Kai’s search results for him to choose this exact spot. And right when they went to sleep, his fun began. Raccoons scouted the joint. The bears came in as the muscle to make sure Kai wouldn’t get in the way. They were all radioactive and supremely intelligent, as this was obviously an abandoned nuclear test facility. Then, the bees and and the biological mutations came into the tent silently, put his wife and son into a trance, and lured them out. There, the serial killer waited with his cultists friends with their sacrificial daggers, ready to plunge them into their hearts to activate the power of the ancient forest gods to once again rule the world in a new age of darkness.

Obviously.

“Maggie? Asher?” he said in a trembling voice.

Then, he heard a brief, high-pitched scream. His wife’s scream.

“Maggie!” he yelled as he bolted up to fight the cultists to the death.

“Ugh, Mom, find another spot to pee, this one’s taken,” he heard Asher say.

“Oops sorry, dear, you scared, me. Carry on,” she said.

Bathroom breaks. They’re just going on bathroom breaks. What is wrong with him? Why can’t he just relax in the beautiful wild?

He laid down and breathed out a world of stress….

… And hoped to God that it was really a bathroom break and not something the cultists told them to say so he wouldn’t go out to save them.

I had drifted to sleep in our tent when some of us were still sitting around the fire. It was like someone had drugged me, because I was out for a long time. I woke with a start only to discover I was all alone. My husband was gone, but his backpack wasn’t. There was also no trace of my two sons, but their stuff had also been left behind. I tried not to jump to conclusions or panic. I grabbed my phone and called my husband, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a message and hung up. Now we had a problem. I searched the perimeter of our campsite. About fifty yards I saw the camper. It was a strange site, there in the thicket, no doubt stuck. I investigated and found that the camper was not just stuck; it had been stripped of its parts. I gasped. I walked a little further and saw what were freshly dug holes or graves, I presumed. I kept my mouth from screaming and pressed on. Then I saw my husband. He did not see me. I kept hidden so I could spy on him. He was holding a rifle on two miscreants who were also holding rifles. No. I kept watching. My husband appeared to be negotiating with the creeps who had our children! I saw them struggling to get free and my husband motioning the kidnappers to untie them. Well, I decided to intervene. I reached for my gun holster and cocked my revolver. I shot at one of the crook’s feet. He cussed as he crumbled to the ground in pain. One of my boys had untied his hand and was untying his brother. I rushed in. I hugged my boys then threw my arms around my husband, weeping for joy. The other criminal had fled.

I feel myself sitting up—gasping for air like I’m drowning—before I’m conscious of anything else.

It’s pitch black. Silent.

I’m still for a few moments as my higher cognitive processes catch up to my primal brain. My eyes begin to adjust; My ears pick up subtle sounds.

I’m in my tent.

No worries, I tell myself, you’re supposed to be in here. “You’re camping, silly goose.” Releived, I lie back down, tuck my inflatable pillow back under my head, and close my eyes. The sleeping bag holds in my body heat, a cocoon of warmth against the cold night air.

My ears can’t help but struggle to make out something, anything. The gentle sound of water from the creek. An owl hoot bouncing off the canyon walls. The sharp snap of a small twig stepped on by nocturnal fauna. The still-new sounds—and silences-of camping prove less conducive to sleep than the constant drone of City Life.

Part of me wishes for more. More sounds. More light. More… everything. I’m consciously trying to be the quintessential “urbanite” spending more quality time with her kids. To do the things their father always promised but never delivered. (And was probably now promising to his new family.) I’d feel a lot better if an occasional car horn or siren blare would fill the gap left by all this nature. Maybe the soft blink of a reflected neon sign…?

It’s okay, though. It’s good for them, to get away from their devices, to be outside. It matters. And what kind of mom would I be if I didn’t love them enough to sleep in a bag on the ground in the middle of the high desert so they could finally see the stars?

And I do. Love them, that is. More than I thought I could love anyone or anything. They are my whole life. And I say that willingly, happily. They are my existence. Us against the world! Or at least against the greater Phoenix area!

I try to turn off my brain so I can drift back to sleep.

Then it hits me: The realization that I can’t hear them, either. They are never completely silent. Even at night, when dead asleep, they are still noisy. They breath and rustle and make little noises all night long.

I hear nothing.

I immediately sit back up, desperately, unsuccessfully trying to find my flashlight. My hands move along the floor in a panic, but all I feel is cold nylon. Where are their sleeping bags?

My phone!

I fish it out of my purse and click the Home Screen. The screen light is blinding, but I manage to push the “flashlight” button. The tent, fully illuminated, is completely empty, save for me and my small amount of things.

My children are gone.

“Boys!” The words are out before I can even form the thought. “Boys!” I repeat it, over and over. “If you can hear me you better say so, now! This isn’t funny!”

Nothing. I can’t get my shoes on fast enough so I forgo them altogether. The stupid door zipper mocks my frantic efforts, I end up grabbing both sides and yanking it open, pulling the teeth apart, ripping the fabric.

I’m barefoot and freezing in just my base layer, but I don’t care. The light on my phone is nowhere near powerful enough, but it manages to catch a glint off the real flashlight, left on our cooler. I grab it and click it on and the whole canyon becomes visible for a hundred feet in every direction, light bouncing off the rock walls and along the trickle of water traveling along the base of the canyon. What is normally beautiful—the very reason for taking the trip—becomes an eerie prison, suddenly claustrophobic, suffocating.

“Boys!”

Nothing.

The van! I bet they got scared and went to sleep in the van.

I run to where we parked, just around the bend. That has to be it; Where else could they be?

My feet feel each small rock and stick, sending bullets of pain into my brain that go unheeded as I run to find my babies.

I get around the rock wall and look to where we parked.

The van is gone.

Every possible scenario, every horrible thing that could have happened to my sons, collides in my mind to form a vortex of panic. I am at a loss. I don’t know what to do next but I need to do something.

I can’t move at all.

I stand, alone, in the cold-dark silence.

Laughter.

I hear voices.

Adults.

A man and woman.

Without thought I move quickly in the direction of the sounds, unsure of the how, but fully, one hundred percent committed to the what: I will kill these people if they hurt my children.

The glow of a small propane fire.

I approach, screaming at them, asking them what they did with my boys. My fists balled, ready to strike, I demand that they acknowledge me, answer my questions.

Nothing.

They don’t even blink.

“Doug said that he and Carla will be here soon.”

“Nice. He better not have bought that cheap-ass crap again.”

“Carla said he’s bringing Hop Valley. That good enough for you?”

I scream, all out, top-of-my-lungs scream, as I stalk around them like a pissed off lioness, getting in their eye-line. “I will kill you. You hear me? Give me my boys or I will end you!”

“That’s cool. Whatever. As long is it isn’t that garbage he brought when we were in Yosemite. What was it called?”

“I think it just said ‘beer.’”

The male laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. It just said ‘beer.’ What an ass.”

I am so far gone that I am no longer in control of myself as I take their lantern and hurl it a good fifteen feet away.

That did it. That got their attention.

“What they hell?”

The male stands, instinctively putting an arm between the lantern and his girlfriend, as though the lantern is the threat, not me.

“How did that happen?”

He looks around, like I’m not even there. I yell at him, calling him all kinds of unpleasant things. I hit him, slap his stupid face, but the strikes do nothing.

“I don’t know. That was weird. Wind?”

“You think the wind did that?”

“I don’t know! Something did.”

I’m exhausted. I want to cry and collapse and murder these two idiots all at once.

Really, all I want are my boys.

The silence is broken when the female’s phone chirps.

“It’s from Carla. She says we have to move. She sent me a link.”

“What? Why? What’s it say?”

Everything is silent. I can’t believe what is happening. How are they doing this? Why are they doing this? And where are my boys?!

“It’s an article. It says that back in twenty-sixteen a lady died here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Flash flood.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Oh, no, this is horrible. It says that she was camping with her two young sons. It rained like miles north of here, so she wouldn’t have had any idea.”

“Did the boys die?”

She reads silently.

“No. Thank God! It says that some park rangers found them, huddled on a small cliff in the wall, up higher than the waterline. They told the rangers that their mom pushed them up on the ledge but that there wasn’t enough room and she disappeared in the water. This is so sad. They found her body a mile and a half further down stream. It happened at night. The poor babies were in their pajamas, didn’t even have shoes on. Poor things.”

“Damn… Yeah. Okay. Let’s move.”

As I watched the two, without acknowledging me at all, packed up and left. They just left. My boys are missing and they just left?

I collapsed. Unable to take another step.

My last thought, before I passed out, was of my boys. I would find them.

I just needed to recharge, to rest my eyes…

For a few moments…

Then I would find…

I feel myself sitting up—gasping for air like I’m drowning—before I’m conscious of anything else.

It’s pitch black. Silent.

I’m still for a few moments as my higher cognitive processes catch up to my primal brain. My eyes begin to adjust; My ears pick up subtle sounds.

I’m in my tent.

I can immediately tell that something’s not right. A mother always knows. I sit bolt straight, dread overpowering my drowsiness.

I fumble around the dark tent, but I already know I won’t find what I’m looking for.

A muggy summer breeze hits me as soon as I step out of the tent and into an even deeper layer of darkness.

‘Jessie? You there?’

My voice comes out as a whisper, defeating the purpose of what I’m trying to achieve.

‘Jessie!’

Louder this time, but still nothing. And now I’m afraid I’ve woken all the predators that are lying in wait and let them know that a stupid 45-year-old woman is stranded and alone in the woods.

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, but all I can make out are unfamiliar shapes and gnarled tree trunks that take the form of claws.

I check my phone, but of course no signal. Why did I let that girl convince me that camping in the Gippsland Ranges would be a good idea? I fell hook, line and sinker for her newfound feminist manifesto: ‘C’mon mum, what does it say about us that two strong independent women have never gone camping without a man?’

A piercing shriek shatters the silence of the night. My heart stops beating in that moment, and I run in the direction of the noise, my mind on autopilot.

I crash through tree trunks, their knife-like tendrils drawing blood from my arms and legs and face. I can smell my own blood, but I feel no pain. All I feel is the overwhelming need to be with Jessie.

But as I approach the small clearing where I could swear the sound had come from, I see no one. The hair on the back of my bloodied arms sticks up, despite the heat and mugginess of the night.

There, against a rock on the sideline of the clearing, is Jessie’s bedazzled sweater, reflecting light in the midst of darkness. I walk slowly to it and pick it up, holding it close to my chest. It still smells like her lavender perfume.

I walk aimlessly around the clearing for more clues, never letting go of Jessie’s sweater, then expand my perimeter when I find nothing.

Sunlight begins to peek through the clouds and onto the fog forming along the ground. I meander about in a manic state until I collapse into the soft earth beneath me.

I let the tears flow and wait. Wait for a miracle that I don’t believe is coming.

I woke up and immediately swore into the empty tent. “They left without me!”

I checked all the rooms and found a note in the kitchen.

‘Sorry we had to leave without you! The game was starting soon and you accidentally used a sleep in spell on yourself.’

I pulled the wand out of my pocket and glared at it before checking the time. “I could still catch half time…”

I pack my things and put a protection hex across the tent to keep it hidden from muggles and walk towards the boot.

It’s on a tall hill that leaves me breathless as I try and clear my mind to think about the quidditch stadium entrance.

My hand touches the mouldy leather and the world warps around me.

“I should have thought of mom. Or dad.” I gasp to myself as I lay winded on the cobblestones. A friendly wizard helps me to my feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I’m looking for my family, the smiths?” I ask. He uses his wand to locate them.

“Up there, at the top. Level 75, row 3. I’d hurry if I were you, games over in half an hour.”

“Okay, thank you.” I say, and charge for the stairs.

Fans cheer as I charge up the steps two by two, and I feel sweat breaking out. I consider using magic, but that isn’t allowed in the stadium.

As I reach the twentieth level, I was bitterly wishing it wasn’t.

Level forty passed, and I was exhausted, the heat overwhelming and the smell of sweat and stale butter beer made me wrinkle my nose. I powered on.

75 levels later I was exhausted and slumped next to my family just to see the Dragons team score the last point, making the stadium erupt into cheers. The game was over.

“Annie?! How on earth…”

My throat was dry and I croaked out, “you left me. So I came to the game.”

“Did you put a enchantment over the tent?” My worrying mom asked.

“Yes, I put the protection hex over it.”

“What? It’s the invisibility enchantment you need…”

“Huh?”

“Now we can’t get into the tent!”

I bury my face in my hands. Oh frogs!