I used to volunteer with my son’s scout group. It was my way of giving back, and an excuse to spend time with my son and his friends. However, something traumatic happened one weekend, a weekend I was in charge of the kids on a camping trip. It was a small group, so I was the only supervisor. I loaded the kids into our old van, barely fitting everyone and our equipment. We drove less than an hour and reached the forest. We trekked our way into its depths, while pointing out interesting facts and quizzing the kids on some of the knowledge they should already have — trying to make it a fun, memorable experience.

When one of the kids spotted an opening with flat ground and shade, we decided it was where we would set up camp. Luckily, I was with a strong group of kids who were proud of their abilities and wanted to pitch their own tents. Before I knew it, we were all gathered around the crackling fire, cooking hot dogs and anticipating the s’mores. The little daylight we had quickly faded into darkness as we continued to sit around the fire. One of the kids suggested telling ghost stories, which I immediately shut down as I knew very well that would be a bad idea.

Soon after, a sudden noise of rustling in the bushes a few yards back startled us. We went quiet and on high alert, trying to identify the movement. The kids were on edge, but I was calm as I knew there were no dangerous animals in these parts. I tried to tell the kids to settle down and focus on figuring out what it was. Then the sound stopped; it was gone. Not thinking much about it, I wanted to continue with our talks around the fire, but I felt the mood had shifted; there was less laughter and less talking — the kids were still uneasy.

Thinking it natural for them to be startled in the darkness, I tried telling a funny story, attempting to lighten the mood and get them settled before bed. However, right before I was to call it a night, we began hearing a banging noise in the distance. It was a strange sound, almost like wood knocking on wood but with an undertone of thudding — it reverberated throughout the forest. The cadence was unusual as well, with a consistent rhythm interrupted periodically by an intermediate beat. I began to panic slightly as I knew of no animal that could produce that sound.

We waited in silence, feeling the air around us thicken, making it hard to breath, as the noise continued. After a while, I decided I had to investigate as we wouldn’t be able to sleep until the noise stopped. I made my son the leader and told everyone to stay put, as I collected my flashlight and made sure I had my pocketknife as I slowly crept into the chasm of darkness. I shuffled my feet toward the noise, hoping it was an animal and I would scare it off. As I was getting closer and closer, the sound grew louder and louder, and I knew I was nearing the source. When I did reach the noise, I stood in front of a great oak tree — and whatever was making the sound was on the other side of it.

I flashed my light at the tree while I started to circle it, making my way to the other side. Moving one cautious step at a time, I adjusted the brightness of the flashlight to make sure I got a good look at whatever it was. When I was finally able to see it, nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed.

An older, scrawny man, with long, wiry, peppered gray hair and a long beard, completely naked, grasping the trunk of the tree with both hands, slamming his head against it. He was hitting it at a perfect rhythm, but suddenly he would hit it in a burst too quick to seem possible — no one could move the way he was moving. He didn’t notice me, and petrified, I didn’t want to be noticed. I began to walk backwards, to return to the camp without drawing his attention, but unfortunately, I stepped on a twig, and the crack almost stopped my heart as the man stopped banging his head against the tree, and froze — his entire body still as a statue. I also didn’t move and was unsure what to do, so I just stood there, staring at him, hoping he would keep harming himself. Suddenly, he spun his head around and glanced at me in a sudden jerk, his face dripping with dark red liquid. His head cocked to the side, he stood, clutching the tree, staring at me. I decided to keep backing away, trying to be subtle with no sudden movements.

Then the old man dropped on all fours and began galloping towards me. I turned and sprinted as fast as I could back to the camp. As I ran, I refused to look behind me because looking back would slow me down, but also out of pure fear. Even so, I could hear the thumping of the old man behind me — he was right on my tail. I ran and ran, and then I burst through a wall of bushes into the firelight — I was back at the camp.

I spun around immediately to protect the kids from this deranged man, but he was gone. I looked around, telling the kids to stay near and to be quiet, but there was no sound or sight of him. I stood there for a moment, and when the silence became too much, I ordered the kids to pack up as fast as they could. Luckily, the kids didn’t protest, though they tried to ask me questions; I ordered them to remain silent and focus on packing. They obeyed my demands and started to pack while I was on high alert, looking at the wall of bushes I had burst through, making sure that man wouldn’t appear again.

Nervous, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I shone my light in every direction of the dark forest whenever I heard even the faintest noise. I had no idea where that man went as he was right behind me and then suddenly gone. In what felt like a brief instant since the kids started packing, I jumped, startled, as my son poked my back to get my attention — the kids had already packed up. Taking a moment to look around and back at the forest, I collected my thoughts and we arranged in a line, with me at the back, frantically looking behind us, ensuring we weren’t being followed as we made our way back to the van.

Luckily, we got to the van without incident and we hurriedly packed up and settled into our seats. I did the usual call out to see if anyone was missing as I counted the six heads quickly, eager to leave. I turned the car on and shifted to drive, but then my son told me to wait. Taken aback, I switched back to park and asked him what the matter was. He asked if we were going to bring the man who was also being chased. Dumbfounded, I asked what he was talking about. He told me when I ran back into the camp, another man who was also in danger was with me. While I was occupied protecting them, that man helped the kids stay quiet and packed with them. Then, when they were done, he said he would scout ahead but told them to make sure they waited for him in the van as he was a fragile, old man and wouldn’t survive out there alone.

I immediately switched to drive and sped the van away, never looking back. That was the last time my son and I ever went camping. Even to this day, looking at a forest, I get goosebumps and try not to stare too hard as I don’t want to see what may lie inside.