Micah

My exact voice, the way I had said his name earlier, the same inflection, the same breath at the end, perfectly copied.

Hearing my own voice coming from across the clearing broke something in me.

My knees went weak.

I stumbled back, catching myself on a tree.

He, or moved.

His body jerked like a puppet on tangled strings and started walking toward me, straight through the circle.

I don't even know if his feet touched the ground.

I turned and ran.

Branches tore at my arms, slapping across my face, but I didn't slow down.

I didn't look back.

My lungs burned, blood ran down my sleeves from the cuts, and every time I thought about stopping, I heard it again.

My voice, distorted, echoing, calling out behind me in broken rhythms.

Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

Never right.

I couldn't tell if it was chasing me or just mimicking me.

Either way, it kept coming.

When I finally saw the faint orange glow of our fire through the trees, it was like being pulled out of a nightmare.

I dove into my tent, zipped it shut so fast the track jammed, curled up in the corner, kept every part of my body inside the fabric, like a kid hiding under a blanket.

I didn't sleep, I didn't even blink.

Eventually, morning light filtered through the nylon.