Jonas

Then, suddenly, it wasn't there.

I stopped, instinctively looking around in every direction.

Nothing.

I turned to Rob, but he wasn't looking at me.

His flashlight was aimed to our right toward a thick tree trunk maybe ten feet away.

There was something behind it, smaller this time, human-sized, just a sliver of a head and his shoulder peeking out.

I lifted my light, and it jerked.

A sudden twitchy movement like a puppet yanked on a string, its head tilted way too far, as if the neck had no clue where it was supposed to stop.

Its mouth was hanging open, not wide, just enough to show teeth.

We learnt space too far apart.

Not sharp, not monstrous, just wrong.

Then it made this sound.

Half a wheeze, half a laugh.

Like someone trying to mimic giggling without knowing how it works.

I couldn't move.

Every step felt like it took an ire.

I was sure if I turned around, something would be right behind me, breathing down my neck.

I held the flashlight so tight my hand cramped.

When we finally reached the fence, I reached for the latch and fumbled, dropped my flashlight, bent down to grab it, hands shaking so badly I could barely hit the wire back.

Inside, we slammed the door, locked everything.