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This happened at a certain state park in Arkansas, which will remain nameless.

I had been working there for a few years, and can attest to its beauty.

It's the kind of place that makes you feel small in the best possible way,

like you're just a tiny part of something much bigger, something older than yourself.

As a ranger, my job was to ensure the park was safe and accessible

for visitors while protecting the natural environment. There's a balance to it, not always an

easy one. You get all kinds, the seasoned outdoorsmen who know the trails like the back of their

hand, the families with young kids who are just there for a weekend

camp out, and those city slickers who think roughing it means a cabin without Wi-Fi. Most of the

time it's pretty routine stuff, giving directions and enforcing park rules. Sometimes I help out

with a twisted ankle or a lost hiker, but every once in a while something happens

that reminds you that the wilderness isn't always as friendly as it appears. It started with a few

strange reports from hikers. They'd come into the ranger station looking confused and unsettled,

telling stories of hearing voices out on the trails, voices that sounded human, but not quite right.

One woman, an experienced hiker in her 50s, swore she had heard a child crying just off the

trail. It sounded so real, she said. Her hands trembled as she clutched her hiking poles.

I thought maybe a little one had wandered away from their

...