Micah

He agreed, but when we got there, nothing.

No gear.

No tent.

Not even ashes from the fire.

Just smooth-packed earth, like something had erased it all.

We told him what happened.

His face didn't change.

He just stared out the window and said quietly, don't follow the hollow man, we haven't talked about it since.

My cousin Drew had been bugging me for weeks to go camping with him.

He said he'd found this spot in the Michigan mountains that barely anyone knew about.

Somewhere up past the usual trails, way off the beaten path, he was weirdly excited about it.

Said he'd heard local stories calling it the ridge where you don't stay after dark.

He laughed it off like it was just some backwards urban legend.

I wasn't sure whether to be amused or concerned, but eventually I caved.

A weekend in the woods didn't sound so bad.

No reception, no responsibilities, just some peace and quiet.

The drive took most of the day.

As we got deeper into the woods, the roads thinned out.

Paved turned to gravel, gravel to dirt.

Eventually there weren't any signs anymore.