Hey, it's Rodney. Ready for more Run Fool?

Join me in the rest of the community at joinrunfunful.com for longer, scarier episodes,

including the terrifying extended version of this week's story.

You'll also get ad-free listening and the chance to ask me your scariest questions.

That's join run-fool.com.

J-O-I-N-R-U-N-F-O-O-N-R-U-N-F-O-L.com. I'll see you there unless you're scared. The Great Outdoors doesn't call to me very often, but it did once, when I was 18, and only because one of my good friends dialed the number.

See, there was a group of us who were close in high school. After starting college, we wanted to celebrate our first summer as adults, if that's what you'd call us. So we checked out to Wyoming, where a member of our

crew was going to school and did a camping trip. It wasn't my choice of venue, but I was eager

to see my friends, really eager.

See, that first year of college was tough on me.

I felt lost, swallowed up by the classes and the new people and the expectations.

I'd gone from child to adult in just about two seconds, and it made me feel untethered. I guess I thought a week

with my closest friends in the fresh air would do wonders. It might have, if we hadn't gotten

interrupted. Shortly after we set up camp and sat down with some refreshments, I heard footsteps,

quick ones. Someone was barreling towards us, from somewhere in the woods.

I couldn't see them through the dense trees and the dwindling light,

not until they burst into our clearing.

It was a young man, maybe in his 30s.

He was sweating and panning, or heaving, actually.

He waved his hands around, frantic.

That's how I noticed.

His palms were covered in blood.

...