My childhood best friend Marie and I were around 11 or 12 years old at the time.

Marie's family had their own campsite in a provincial park about two hours from our hometown

and would spend the entire summer each year living in their camper out there.

This particular summer I was able to go and stay with them for a week

and we were excited to spend our time adventuring around the forest.

On the last night that I was there we decided we wanted to hurry down to the ice cream shop

by the lake before it closed.

It was early evening at this point, still pretty bright out but beginning to lose light.

The path we took was down a short slope right next to the main road with maybe ten feet of thick brush and trees in between.

On the other side was the forest with more tall, thick brush.

So we were walking along not seeing a single other person on the path in front or behind us.

We hear a sudden rustling and snapping of branches similar to the sound of maybe a deer moving through the woods.

I wouldn't have thought anything of it but then the sound of running footsteps follows.

Marie glances back and suddenly grabs my arm, urging me under her breath not to look back.

At the same time the running stops.

I don't know why I didn't ignore her and get a look myself.

I guess I could sense the very real fear in her voice and chose to listen.

We both start to panic, getting that feeling like when you're running up the stairs after turning the basement light off.

We pick up speed as much as we can without breaking into a sprint, knowing the ice cream shop is only about a minute walk away at this point.

The path soon breaks and we are in the parking lot.

Suddenly Marie steers me hard to the left, heading towards the lake and the boat rental instead of continuing straight to the ice cream shop.

And I go along with it silently, understanding ice cream is no longer an interest right now.

...