Last summer, during a visit to my parents' house,
I embarked on a hiking and camping adventure near a serene river.
It was my way of immersing myself in nature,
a much-needed escape in a town lacking adventure.
After bidding farewell to my parents,
I set out on the trail, which took around four hours of steady walking.
The peculiar thing about this trail was that it remained untouched by other hikers,
offering solitude and seclusion.
Upon reaching the river, night had already fallen, casting an eerie ambiance.
I quickly pitched my tent and started a crackling fire to unwind before sleep.
As I sat there, lost in my thoughts,
I began to hear faint footsteps drawing nearer.
I turned my gaze and, after a moment,
a man emerged from the dense trees.
With a friendly wave, he approached my campsite,
wearing a disheveled appearance that suggested he had been camping in the area for a while.
Introducing himself as John, he engaged in small talk, mentioning his own nearby campsite.
Although I maintained the conversation to avoid rudeness,
something about the encounter felt off.
Eventually, John bid me goodnight and departed.
I watched as he strolled along the riverbank, his flashlight guiding his path.
Strangely, after a brief moment, the light abruptly vanished,
leaving me with an unsettling emptiness.
Initially, I brushed off the encounter as mere nerves,
attributing it to coincidence that he had appeared shortly after I started the fire.
Perhaps it was just dumb luck, and John meant no harm.
Smothering the fire, I stayed awake in my tent for a while before finally succumbing to sleep.
At the break of dawn, I set out to explore the river, hiking along its banks.
Strangely, I came across no other campsites, no signs of fires or tents.
Not even in the direction where I had seen John venture.
It seemed as though he had vanished deeper into the forest, heightening my unease.
As dusk approached, I returned to my tent,
only to find John sitting beside my extinguished campfire.
I greeted him, but his presence felt intrusive.
He explained that he had been waiting for my return,
claiming to have discovered something down the river.
Urging me to accompany him, he rose and beckoned me to join him.
I hesitated, my instincts warning me that something was amiss.
Politely declining, I cited fatigue as my reason to stay behind.
His smile gradually faded, and his request became more insistent.
We locked eyes for a tense moment, and it became evident that all was not right.
Without uttering a word, I chose not to comply.
After a pause, he turned away and proceeded toward the river.
Observing his departure, I noticed the faint outline of a small gun
protruding from his back, concealed beneath his shirt.
While it's not uncommon for hikers and campers to carry firearms for safety,
the manner in which he concealed it, tucked uncomfortably in the back of his pants, raised red flags.
The shirt deliberately covered the firearm from view, a disquieting detail.
Realizing the gravity of the situation,
I swiftly gathered my belongings and made my way back, guided only by the moonlight.
Thankfully, I navigated the path in the darkness and arrived at my car after a four-and-a-half-hour trek. Reflecting upon the encounter,
I shudder at the realization that he may have followed me to my campsite,
uncertain of how long or how closely he had been stalking me during my stay.
His attempt to lure me to the river undoubtedly harbored sinister intentions.
If I had not departed when I did,
he likely would have returned later that night,
and I might never have been seen again.
As I recount this chilling experience,
I am filled with gratitude for my instincts and the narrow escape
that prevented a far more sinister fate.
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