I’ve never been that active. But recently, after a health scare, I’ve decided to get in shape. The gym is boring, so I’ve started running down trails in the woods. Narrow paths winding next to a babbling brook, birds chirping in the trees, the smell of dirt and fresh air—it’s exhilarating.
But today, that all came to an end.
I was taking a jog down a new path I hadn’t been down before. As I came around the bend, my toe caught on something. I flew through the air and fell into the dirt, my hands flying out in front of me a second before I hit the ground.
Pain shot up my elbows and knees. Wincing, I slowly pulled myself up.
And there it was. The thing that I’d tripped on.
A piece of clothing.
I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. It was a denim jacket, twisted and rolled on itself, the indigo blue now a muddy brown as it was slowly reclaimed by nature. It wasn’t the weirdest thing I’d found in the woods, by far. I’d seen beer bottles, crumpled paper, even an old baseball cap. I straightened, glancing around the forest—
And something else caught my eye.
Just several yards off the trail, there was something white, sticking out against the muted greens and browns of the forest.
My breath caught in my throat.
Slowly, I stepped off the trail. Ferns brushed my calves as I made my way through the underbrush. I winced at the thought of how many ticks were probably latching on to my legs, but I continued. As I got closer, and my brain still couldn’t parse what the white shape was. I just knew by the color, by the shape, it didn’t belong in the woods.
I took another step—
And froze.
Next to the shape was a mess of tangled, dark hair.
It’s a body.
I began to scream. No one could hear me—I was a few miles from the road, from any houses—but I couldn’t help it. I screamed and screamed and screamed until I was out of breath.
The woman was lying face down in the underbrush. The ferns and long grasses had grown up around her, nearly engulfing her entire body. There was no smell; she’d probably been here a while. And the white I’d seen—it was the white of her t-shirt, poking up through the foliage.
Oh my God. What do I do? My hyperventilating breaths echoed in the empty clearing. Call the police. Right. I pulled out my phone—
I stopped.
A few feet away from the body, laying in the tall grass, was a shoe. I took a step in its direction—and my entire body seized up as it came into full view.
It’s my shoe.
It was identical. A pink Nike sneaker, with white laces and a silver swoop logo. I swallowed, but my throat was dry. It’s a popular sneaker. So this woman wore them. So what? Doesn’t mean anything.
Except…
I turned back to the body.
The woman had long, dark, wavy hair. She was wearing black leggings and a white t-shirt—like I often wore. Like I was wearing, right now. The ground spun underneath me. Just a coincidence. Just… a… coincidence.
But I had to know.
Slowly, I crouched down. I grabbed a stick near my foot and raised it to the woman’s neck. Nearly gagging, I carefully lifted a lock of hair to expose the gray, desiccated skin of the woman’s neck.
No.
A faded tattoo of a cross stared back at me.
She has my tattoo. She has my fucking tattoo.
I leapt back. My heel hit uneven ground and I lost my balance. I fell, rear-first, onto the damp dirt. Staring at the corpse, at the tangled mess of hair.
It can’t… it can’t…
I forced myself up. Tore my eyes away and sprinted back through the ferns, back to the trail. I ran as fast as I could, my entire body burning. My lungs ached with each breath. But all I could think about was running.
Getting away from the body.
When I turned the bend, I saw a man walking down the trail. Earbuds in, getting exercise. I thought about telling him what I’d seen. But I couldn’t stop the panic. Couldn’t stop running, putting as much distance between me and that thing as possible.
But then the strangest thing happened.
In that last split-second, before I passed the man—
I saw him smile.
I glanced back. He had stopped in the middle of the trail. And was looking over his shoulder at me, smiling.
What the…
I pumped my legs harder. Glanced back again.
No.
He had turned around. And was starting after me.
Panic flooded me. I forced myself to run harder. But I could hear his steps behind me, pounding on the dirt trail. Getting louder by the second.
The body in the woods flashed through my head. Face down. Overgrown with foliage. Sunken and gray.
Forgotten.
I glanced behind me. He was running at me—but not gaining on me as fast as I thought. I forced myself to push forward. Around another bend. And then, through an opening in the trees, I saw it.
The parking lot.
And it wasn’t empty.
A family was getting ready to take a walk on the trail. And they could see us. “Help!” I screamed. “Help me!”
A flurry of movement as the father pulled out his phone and called the police, while the mother ushered the kids back inside the car. I glanced back to see the man scurrying off into the underbrush, trying to hide.
But it was too late for him.
***
The police identified the man as a local who’d been accused of stalking women before. They were able to find him in the woods and bring him in to custody.
But they didn’t find a body.
I revisited the spot several weeks later. And while I was certain that was the exact spot, there was no body. Just the ferns, swaying in the breeze, dappled by early summer sunlight.