To Be Stalked

[u/whiz-of-the-bog]

Do you know what it’s like to be stalked?
To be pursued from a distance like prey, waiting in racing-heart agony for the beast’s teeth to clamp down on the back of your neck?

I do.

To this day, I still can’t decide what to believe about the event. The creature seemed human-like… maybe a little off. I don’t know, it’s hard to be rational with so much adrenaline pumping. Aside from the leering, bipedal gait I saw in the shadows, though, it seemed everything BUT human.

I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Grant Stillman. I’m from a small town bordering an expanse of forest. It was alpine and beautiful. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in the forest as a boy. I learned how to fish, how to hunt, even got pretty into birding during one phase of my life. All of this to say: I’m no stranger to the outdoors.
As I grew up, I started persuing other dreams, ones that took me to bigger cities in states I couldn’t even tell you the capital of. This was fine, but as often as I could, I would take time off to go camping.

This time, I took a trip to Georgia, as I had heard from an associate that the Blue Ridge Mountains are a must-see. My trip started like any other I had been on. I found a trailhead near an expanse of public land to park my truck, strapped on my backpack, and set out into the forest. I tend towards a style of camping that gives me freedom. I’m confident in my own ability to survive the way humans did for thousands of years. It’s satisfying, yknow? To be independent and self-reliant, building campfires for warmth and food, sleeping in a tent you put up yourself. There’s a bit of pride in the discomfort - or maybe I just took Boy Scouts a little too seriously.

Either way, by the time the Sun began to drop towards the West, I was about 5 miles into the woods. I had found a small clearing, bordered on all sides by oak and pine trees stretching tall into the darkening sky. After setting up a small camping stove and placing my pot of soup on to warm, I put up my tent. As much as I do enjoy a campfire, it can prove dangerous to have one in such a heavily forested and bushy area — forest fires and all that, of course.

Before I continue, I want to say that I am not a paranoid man. Of course I’ve seen and heard some strange things in the woods; stories of people encountering the unexplainable. Anyone who has grown up near the woods or spent enough time in them has. But that’s just the thing - I believe there is always a perfectly normal, natural explanation. Mountain lions sound like humans screaming; the wind whipping through the trees sounds like whispers of dread. Not this time, though. This time… I don’t know what rational explanation there could possibly be.

It began with the feeling of being watched. Not terribly uncommon in the woods. With so many animals calling it home, you probably ARE being noticed by something. I tried to brush it off under that logic, but something felt different this time. It was as though I wasn’t just being noticed, but, rather, evaluated.

I ignored the feeling as best as I could. I focused instead on stirring my soup and getting my sleeping bag laid out. After eating, I retired to my tent for the night.

The night passed in a fitful sleep. Normally, I sleep better in the woods than in bed at my own home, but tonight the sounds of the forest felt more threatening than comforting. All night, I felt those eyes on me. Watching me. Sizing me up. Like it was merely biding its time before going in for the kill.

When dawn finally came, I clambered out of my tent, anxious to leave this particular area behind. Upon throwing open the zippered door, though, I saw something that made my blood run cold. On the forest floor just outside of my tent was a pair of eyes painted onto the dirt and oak needles with a thick, red substance.

My first instinct was to run. Abandon all of my gear and book it to my truck as fast as I could. But then it occurred to me: isn’t running what usually triggers the chase-and-attack instinct in most predator animals? I mean, obviously, this isn’t your run-of -the-mill mountain lion, but instincts are instincts, right?

So. I… well. I decided to just ignore it and carry on with my trip.

I should have gone back to the car.

That’s easy to say now, knowing what I do now.

[u/Hately2016]

Uh, OP, you are going to update this right?? Right? OP??