I crouched in the brush, my back against a large tree hiding me from the hiking trail. My pulse pounded in my ears, my chest heaved with gasps, and my body quivered with adrenaline and terror as the strains of the song “Happy” filtered faintly through the stillness of the forest.

A bead of sweat trickled maddeningly down my temple. I raised a shaky hand and smeared it into my hair as I tried to slow my breathing and melt into the rough bark behind me.

The music got closer. I could now hear humming, off-key and jolly like a Santa Claus. I shrunk into the leaves, my chest heaving despite my best efforts to stay quiet and still.

The music grew louder and I began to discern feet tramping through the underbrush. The music, humming, and crunching leaves mingled to create an orchestra of terrifying sounds.

A chilling breeze swept through the trees, warning me to run. Yet I huddled, frozen, waiting for my fate.

The music was cacophonous. The crunching leaves stopped. He was right behind my tree. He knew I was there.

An arm snaked around and gripped my elbow. A scream ripped from my open mouth as he dragged me around the tree and into his waiting arms.

—

The forest was silent. The trees were still. No shadow dared to stir.

A man sat on a log, hunched like an old woman. A mound of dirt rose before him the size of a casket. He leaned forward, touched the mound tenderly, then stood. He stooped and swung a large boom box to his shoulder. The cheerful melody of “Happy” filled the silence as the man turned and tromped away through the dusky stillness.