It’s no joke camping in these woods. I’m not even sure there’s a trail out here. Only the tall, dark trees that surround me and the birds that talk in a different language to keep me company. Looking up at the sky I notice just how dark it’s gotten. It’s been hours since I left the tent. When I heard a crunch under my foot I assumed it to be a leaf, but when I saw the color white out of the corner of my eye, I had to look down. I spotted a drawing. A kid’s drawing. I picked it up and straightened it out in my hand. The drawing featured an amputated hand with blood dripping out of it. I turned it over. This side had writing on it. I read it out loud, “I’m missing a hand”. Some kid must’ve dropped their creepy drawing. I put it in my pocket and headed back to my tent. The sun was setting, painting the sky with the pastel colors of the rainbow ,and my tent was just a few yards ahead. When I approached my green colored tent, I grabbed the metal zipper and opened up the tent made of cloth. It wasn’t until I layed down that I realized just how exhausted I really was. And suddenly it was morning again. I got up and tugged on the metal zipper until I could see the blue sky. It was a beautiful day. I stood up and walked over to where I kept my bucket. I needed some water, my supply ran out yesterday. Then I stepped in something. Something that didnt feel like a leaf, or a pinecone, or some creepy kid’s drawing. I looked down at what I had just stepped in. There was someone’s hand in front of my tent. That wasn’t there yesterday. I reached down with my left hand to pick it up- maybe this was some sick prank, but when I tried to grab it and felt nothing but a cool breeze blow against my arm I turned around when i realized the horror, and the meals I had cooked over my campfire came up and out of mouth. That was my hand on the ground.