Nothing brings people closer than making it through a tragedy by each other’s side.

When people ask if I go camping often, they always seem surprised to find out that I don’t despite my outdoorsman nature. Hunting, fishing, trapping, and hiking all can cheer me up on even my worst days, but nothing fills my heart with terror more than a night in the woods.

My first day camping, and I mean really camping, with no phones, no iPods, a tent, and little food and water, was the summer before my sophomore year. My dad and I trekked deep into the forest of northern Michigan, near Marquette, and we planes on staying for three days. We parked the car and hiked for about four miles with our backpacks and fly rods in hand. We pitched our tent on a secluded bend of the Pere Marquette River, and, aside from two bags of beef jerky and a gallon of water in case of emergency, had no provisions of our own. We planned on catching river salmon, snaring squirrels, and boiling river water to drink for the next three days.

Everything started off well as we quickly set up the rest of our campsite and got to fishing. When night came, I made a fire while my dad cleaned the fish we caught and buried the guts. Just before we started cooking, I ventured off into the woods to get privacy enough to go to the bathroom. I looked into the distance, and to my dismay, saw a dark figure. He seemed to be tall and skinny, and most likely wearing black clothes because all I could really make out other than his silhouette was a pale face. I couldn’t make anything else out, but the more I stared at him, the more I was scared, but I got an eerie feeling like he was inviting me towards him. I ran.

I told my dad and he laughed, so I just tried to shrug it off as imagination. As we joked around, my dad looked back into the woods and his face suddenly went emotionless like he was in a trance.

“What is it, dad?” I asked as I grew increasingly nervous as minutes passed and his expression didn’t change. I cast nervous glances into the woods but couldn’t make out anything out of the ordinary.

“Oh, nothing. I was just…thinking,” said my dad as he suddenly came back to life. I was worried, but ignored is as my dad started goofing off again and I figured it was a prank. We sat around and shot the breeze for a bit longer until we decided to retire back to our tent.

The fire was out and it was a calming night in the woods. I know this because I half woke when my dad left the tent to go to the bathroom. I jolted awake and scrambled out of the tent when my dad let out a stream of profanities to an unknown person. The fish guts my dad buried earlier were dug up and arranged into what appeared to be a circle with an “X” through it.

As we walked around on opposite sides of our campsite searching for the culprit, I got that eerie feeling again.

“Adam!” my dad shouted. In my confused state, I managed to look up. He was there in front of me. Not my dad, but that figure. His body was poking out from behind a tree not ten feet away, motionless. I could see he was about seven feet tall, very slender, and wearing what looked like black slacks, a white shirt, and a black coat on top. I still couldn’t make out his facial features, even at this distance, but he looked almost albino. My dad yelled something, but the words just sounded distant and warped. Luckily, my legs took over as though they knew of an impending doom.

All I could do was run.

I don’t remember anything after except waking up at a motel. My dad didn’t say anything at the time, and I didn’t ask. Although this experience still leaves me fearing camping to this day, my dad and I did however grow much closer by getting through this together. We do much more together, especially fishing and hiking, but still will not spend a night in the woods, as we fee that that… person is still out there. Watching. Waiting.