We arrived at Crow Lake, just as the sun began its lazy descent below the horizon,

casting a warm golden light over everything. The trees were ablaze in shades of red, deep orange

and bright yellow, almost idyllic, like something out of a painting. We tumbled out of the car, and stretching our legs,

let go of all the tension that had piled up over the last few months.

All we needed was an escape from the noise of the city, some time to reconnect.

Matt, Claire, Nate and I had been friends forever, but life has a way of pulling people apart, jobs, relationships,

responsibilities. It was as if we were all drifting in different directions, and the camping

trip was a way of saying we could keep holding on, just a little while longer. We set up our tents

along the lakeshore, the water sparkling in the fading sunlight.

It felt good to laugh, to joke like we used to.

Crisp air washed over us, carrying a sense of peace as we worked.

By the time the sun dipped below the treetops, the sky was painted in shades of pink and purple.

We sat around the fire we built, the crackling of the flames filling the silence between us.

It was so quiet out here.

No cars, no people.

Nothing but the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and the occasional splash of a fish jumping in the lake.

Too quiet almost. But I shrugged it off. We were

miles from civilization. It should be quiet. We sat around the fire, roasting marshmallows,

and sharing ghost stories. My shoulders finally started to relax, the tension easing out of them

for the first time in months. And then,

I saw it. On the other side of the lake, a shadowy figure, tall and unmoving, standing at the edge

of the trees. I blinked, straining my eyes against the twilight, trying to make out what it was.

...