Derek

As darkness crept back into the canyon, I had no choice but to set up a hasty, uneasy camp again, this time beneath a towering, gnarled oak. Every nerve in my body urged me to flee." But I had nowhere left to go. Nightfall arrived swiftly, plunging everything around me into inky darkness. I tried to sleep but jolted awake frequently, convinced something shuffled quietly near my tent.

As darkness crept back into the canyon, I had no choice but to set up a hasty, uneasy camp again, this time beneath a towering, gnarled oak. Every nerve in my body urged me to flee." But I had nowhere left to go. Nightfall arrived swiftly, plunging everything around me into inky darkness. I tried to sleep but jolted awake frequently, convinced something shuffled quietly near my tent.

My GoPro was still recording, its tiny red light blinking insistently. Barely able to breathe, I whispered hoarsely into the camera, capturing my mounting dread. It's been watching me. I'm not imagining this. Pausing, I strained to listen closely, and at first, there was nothing.

My GoPro was still recording, its tiny red light blinking insistently. Barely able to breathe, I whispered hoarsely into the camera, capturing my mounting dread. It's been watching me. I'm not imagining this. Pausing, I strained to listen closely, and at first, there was nothing.

Then suddenly, from somewhere deeper in the canyon, I heard a voice, faint but familiar, speaking words that froze the blood in my veins. It's been watching me, I'm not imagining this. It was my own voice repeating my words precisely, drifting hauntingly from the darkness. My heart hammered uncontrollably as I huddled tightly in my tent, gripping the camera until my knuckles ached.

Then suddenly, from somewhere deeper in the canyon, I heard a voice, faint but familiar, speaking words that froze the blood in my veins. It's been watching me, I'm not imagining this. It was my own voice repeating my words precisely, drifting hauntingly from the darkness. My heart hammered uncontrollably as I huddled tightly in my tent, gripping the camera until my knuckles ached.

I knew, in a profound, chilling instant, I wasn't alone. And whatever was out there had no intention of letting me leave this canyon alive. My memory fragments at this point. Hunger and dehydration blurred reality, making every shadow shift and every sound resonate ominously. I was beyond exhausted, nerves frayed and raw.

I knew, in a profound, chilling instant, I wasn't alone. And whatever was out there had no intention of letting me leave this canyon alive. My memory fragments at this point. Hunger and dehydration blurred reality, making every shadow shift and every sound resonate ominously. I was beyond exhausted, nerves frayed and raw.

The footage I'm about to describe is what rescuers and investigators pieced together afterward, because I hardly recall recording it. The GoPro footage captured me standing near a cluster of moss-covered rocks beside a sluggish muddy creek. I watched this later, horrified by my own hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. Dirt streaked my face and clothes. My breathing came in uneven, shallow bursts.

The footage I'm about to describe is what rescuers and investigators pieced together afterward, because I hardly recall recording it. The GoPro footage captured me standing near a cluster of moss-covered rocks beside a sluggish muddy creek. I watched this later, horrified by my own hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. Dirt streaked my face and clothes. My breathing came in uneven, shallow bursts.

On the screen I spoke urgently, desperation and exhaustion evident in every word. I've been circling for hours, I said, voice trembling. It's keeping me here. Every path leads back to the same place. Every mark I make disappears. Then something captured my attention, pulling my gaze suddenly upward. The camera swung around as I scanned the dense foliage, eyes wide and searching. Who's there?

On the screen I spoke urgently, desperation and exhaustion evident in every word. I've been circling for hours, I said, voice trembling. It's keeping me here. Every path leads back to the same place. Every mark I make disappears. Then something captured my attention, pulling my gaze suddenly upward. The camera swung around as I scanned the dense foliage, eyes wide and searching. Who's there?

I shouted, voice cracking with panic. Only silence responded, heavy and oppressive. Suddenly in the distance, a faint yell echoed, a voice indistinguishable from my own. It cried for help, then abruptly shifted into sobbing. My knees nearly gave out. The fear was primal, overwhelming. No, I whispered, shaking my head violently. That isn't me. It can't be.

I shouted, voice cracking with panic. Only silence responded, heavy and oppressive. Suddenly in the distance, a faint yell echoed, a voice indistinguishable from my own. It cried for help, then abruptly shifted into sobbing. My knees nearly gave out. The fear was primal, overwhelming. No, I whispered, shaking my head violently. That isn't me. It can't be.

But the voice continued, desperate and pleading, floating through the canyon like a twisted reflection of my own terror. The camera shook as I broke into a run, crashing blindly through the underbrush, desperate to escape the echoing cries. Moments later, stumbling and gasping, I dropped to the ground near a clearing.

But the voice continued, desperate and pleading, floating through the canyon like a twisted reflection of my own terror. The camera shook as I broke into a run, crashing blindly through the underbrush, desperate to escape the echoing cries. Moments later, stumbling and gasping, I dropped to the ground near a clearing.

I spoke directly into the camera, my voice barely audible above my ragged breathing. This might be the last recording, I said, glancing nervously over my shoulder. If someone finds this, don't follow the cairns. Don't trust your eyes. It's mimicking me. It wants me trapped here. I'm leaving the camera here. Maybe someone will find it. Maybe someone can avoid whatever this is.

I spoke directly into the camera, my voice barely audible above my ragged breathing. This might be the last recording, I said, glancing nervously over my shoulder. If someone finds this, don't follow the cairns. Don't trust your eyes. It's mimicking me. It wants me trapped here. I'm leaving the camera here. Maybe someone will find it. Maybe someone can avoid whatever this is.

I wedged the GoPro firmly into the crook of a tree branch, pointing it toward the narrow path, a desperate final attempt at communicating what had happened. I lingered for a moment, hesitation clear on my face before finally staggering out of view. The rescuers recovered my footage weeks later, precisely where I had left it.

I wedged the GoPro firmly into the crook of a tree branch, pointing it toward the narrow path, a desperate final attempt at communicating what had happened. I lingered for a moment, hesitation clear on my face before finally staggering out of view. The rescuers recovered my footage weeks later, precisely where I had left it.