Something happened to me and my dad when we went on a camping trip a few years ago. I was around 12 years old at the time. We arrived at the campsite early in the afternoon and quickly set up our tent near a big lake. The air was crisp and fresh, and the trees surrounding us were tall and majestic.
As the sun started to set, my dad built a campfire and began to cook some hot dogs on a grill. We sat on our camping chairs and enjoyed the warmth of the fire, listening to the sounds of nature around us. The stars slowly began to appear in the sky, and my dad pointed out some of the constellations he knew.
After we finished eating, my dad told me to go to bed in the tent while he stayed outside to put out the fire. I crawled into my sleeping bag and closed my eyes, listening to the soothing sound of crickets outside.
That’s when I heard it. A soft whispering voice, right outside the tent. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but it got louder and more urgent. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the voice kept calling my name. I started to feel scared, so I called out to my dad, but he didn’t answer.
I crawled out of the tent and looked around, but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. Then, I heard my dad’s voice from across the lake. He was yelling for me to come to him. I could hear the urgency in his voice, and I knew I had to go to him.
I started to run towards his voice, but the whispering voice behind me got louder and more frantic. I turned around and saw a shadowy figure chasing me. I screamed and ran faster, but it was like the figure was always right behind me. I didn’t know what to do or who to trust.
Finally, I made it to my dad, who was standing on the other side of the lake. He pulled me close and hugged me tightly, but something felt off. His embrace was cold and unfamiliar.
When he pulled away, I saw that his face was different than I remembered. It was like he had aged ten years overnight. His eyes were sunken and his skin was wrinkled. I tried to shake it off and convince myself that it was just the stress of the situation, but something felt off.
As we packed up our things and left the campsite, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between my dad and me. He was quieter than usual, and there was a distance between us that hadn’t been there before.
To this day, I’m not sure what happened to my dad or if it’s even my dad that I went home with. Every time I look at him, there’s a sense of unease and uncertainty that lingers in my mind.
Sometimes, I wonder if the shadowy figure that chased me in the woods had something to do with it, or if it was all just a nightmare.
But I know one thing for sure - that camping trip was the last time I ever saw my dad as he used to be.