Fear Itself
The drive up was lengthy, but beautiful. Around 10 a.m. we passed Lansing. As we continued north the trees along the roadside became thicker and taller; cities and towns became smaller, fewer, and farther apart. Dad was taking us to some remote, secluded campground in northern Michigan. He claimed that he wanted to “get back to his roots, and be one with nature.” Mom laughed at that since Dad had lived his whole life in the city.
Around 5 p.m. Dad pulled off of the highway. We drove into a dinky little town. It was so small that I don’t even think it had a name, but it did have a gas station. We didn’t need gas but we had to stop so that we could buy firewood. Dad was going to bring wood from home but Peter told him that was a bad idea. Peter had read an article in school the year before about this bug called the Emerald Ash Borer. Apparently this bug has caused the loss of millions of trees across the U.S. So now it is only legal to use firewood from the area that you are camping in, otherwise you could get a huge fine.
So needless to say, we stopped and bought wood. Dad also picked up a stack of newspapers to use for fire- starter. Then we continued on to our destination. It took us another thirty minutes, on winding roads, to get to the campground.
The campsites were very spread out. Each one had about a quarter acre of trees between it and the next site. At the driveway of each site was a post with a sign that read either vacant or occupied. We pretty much had our choice of sites. Most had vacant signs posted, which we thought was lucky at the time, but perhaps we should have thought harder. If we had we might have found it strange that a lakeside campground in Michigan be nearly empty during peak season.
It didn’t take us long to unpack the car, set up the tents, and make for the water. Peter and I followed a well- worn, winding path through the trees. The air smelled of pine. As we rounded a turn, the trees parted and we entered into a clearing. It was about the size of a football field. The path that we were following wasn’t the only one. Two other trails crossed our path headingâÂ?¦ who knows where. Wild flowers of every color grew around the paths. Butterflies and birds flitted about feasting on the plentiful nectar. It was quite lovely.
We found the beach just past the trees on the other side of the clearing. The wind was quiet, so the lake was still. Blue-green water spread out before us, framed by evergreens. Peter and I spent the late afternoon taking a dip in the water, walking along the shore, and skipping stones. We headed back to camp just before dusk. We didn’t want to lose our way in the dark.
When we got back to camp Dad was stacking logs and starting the fire. Mom was making sandwiches. We all sat down to dinner around the fire, enjoying the sounds of crickets and night birds, and the crackle of the wood as it kindled before us. It was a perfect moment in time.
Then Peter shook my arm. “Look at this!” he exclaimed.
He was holding up one of the newspapers that Dad had gotten at the gas station. The article on the front page was frightening! It said that for the past few months every time there was a full moon people were going missing from camp grounds in the area. In two nights it would be a full moon!
Dad took the paper from Peter. “Stop scaring your sister,” he ordered.
Then mom chimed in, “Your father and I have read the article. None of those disappearances happened at this campground.”
“Yes, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about,” Dad assured us. Then he promptly changed the subject.
It was late when we all took to our tents. Mom and Dad were in one tent; Peter and I shared the other. Once we were in the tent I tried to get Peter to tell me more about the article.
But he simply yawned and muttered, “I’m sure Dad’s right, there’s probably nothing to worry about.”
Then he fell asleep, leaving me alone with my imagination.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. Every noise I heard made me worry that a homicidal maniac was lurking outside of our tent, just waiting to knock us out with chloroform, take us to some abandon cabin, torture us to death, and then throw our bodies into the forest where the coyotes would dispose of them. Okay, well maybe I watch too many crime shows on T.V. Anyway nothing bad happened that night. We were all just fine in the morning.
We spent most of Saturday at the lake. Mom and Dad went back to camp before Peter and me, so that they could get cleaned up before dinner. When Peter and I got back we found that we had a visitor. The local park ranger, Mr. Simmons, had stopped by to introduce himself. He seemed nice, though a little lonely. He stayed while we got dinner prepared. He talked with Dad about the fine art of fishing, yuck! Then he bid us farewell when it was time to eat. Mom, of course, invited him to join us, but he politely declined and went on his way.
I slept much better that night. Partly because I had not slept the night before, but also because I felt safer knowing that Mr. Simmons would be patrolling the campground all night.
Sunday morning I awoke to a light rain. It was just enough to dampen the ground, but it seemed to refresh the entire forest. Shortly after I got up the rain cleared off, making way for the brilliant morning sun. The leaves of every plant and tree glistened, as though they were lit for the holidays.
When Peter got up he and I followed the now familiar trail to the beach. Today was our last day of camping. In the morning we would be packing the car and heading home. Mom and Dad would go back to work on Tuesday.
Mom and Dad hung around the campsite most of the day. Peter and I stayed at the lake all day. We walked along the shore, swimming any time we felt like it. Before we knew it the sun was slipping behind the trees. We gathered our towels and things and started back towards camp. The moon had risen early. As the sun finished its final gleaming dissent, the moon was already high in the sky. It was a magnificent glowing orb, reflecting off of the lake; illuminating the world in its eerie half- light.
We didn’t reach the trail that led back to the campsite until it was nearly full dark, but we could see just fine with the full moon shining at our backs. I followed Peter past the tree-line and into the clearing. He stopped so abruptly that I nearly ran into him. I started to ask what the heck the big idea was, but all that I got out was, “What theâÂ?¦” and then I saw what had made him stop.
On the other side of the clearing, heading in our direction, was a giant animal. Its massive head looked like a cross between a grizzly bear and a wolf. It had a large body covered in gray fur that glowed silver in the moonlight. But the most striking feature of the beast was its eyes. They gleamed with an inner yellow light. It stared at us with those glowing yellow eyes, as though it knew all of our secrets.
Both Peter and I were frozen in place as the creature lumbered towards us. It passed the first cross trail and kept coming on. As it got closer I notice that it was carrying something in its mouth. I couldn’t see it clearly, but whatever it was carrying dragged between its front legs as it advanced. When it reached the second path, that crossed the one we stood on, it stopped. It stood up onto its hind legs. It was easily eight feet tall when upright.
With its close proximity to us and the brilliance of the moonlight, I could now see what it held in its mouth, and I wish I hadn’t. It was a human leg. It had been torn off at the hip socket. The foot still wore a brown hiking boot and the calf was somewhat covered in a green pant-leg. The rest of it was just bloody. I knew immediately that the leg had belonged to Mr. Simmons, the park ranger. Now it belonged to the creature.
Staring at us intently, the beast appeared to be grinning as if it was amused by the horror which I knew was showing on my face. Then swiftly and silently, on two legs, it slipped down the path that crossed our own. We watched it disappear into the trees. Then we ran, as fast as we could, back to camp.
Our campsite was a shamble. It looked as though a tornado had briefly touched down. Dad was holding his head and cursing; Mom was crying and trying to help Dad stand up. When they saw us they looked overjoyed. Mom ran to us and covered us with kisses and hugs. Dad steadied himself, got his keys from his pocket, and ordered us all to get into the car. We left immediately. All of our gear, the tents, food, everything that wasn’t on our person was left behind.
None of us spoke for a long time. Once we were on the highway heading south, Mom explained that the creature had attacked the ranger at our campsite. Dad had tried to help him, but the beast had bit Dad on the shoulder and thrown him across the campsite, knocking him unconscious. Mom had run to Dad’s aide, while the creature made off with the ranger’s body. When Dad regained consciousness they were going to go look for us. That is when we arrived back at camp.
Now, that might seem like the end of my story, but there is a bit more. Peter, of course, had made sure that his phone was not left behind at camp. On the long ride home he used it to do some research into the creature that we had encountered. He found out that it was a werewolf, half- man and half- wolf. The thing that ate Mr. Simmons was half human. You may wonder, as I did, what would cause a person to turn into a supernatural creature like that. In his research Peter found the most likely way for a person to end up as a werewolf. When a werewolf bites a person that person may become infected and turn into a werewolf themselves.
So now you can imagine why my story is not quite over, and why I still have more to fear than fear itself. I fear for my life. Today is July 22nd. Tonight there will be a full moon.
