I Invited My Friends
We were a band of five, bound together by the shared stories of our childhood: Alex, Brian, Charlie, David, and myself, Edward. Over the years, life’s demanding currents had pulled us apart, and our once unshakeable bond had grown thin and taut. It was a loss I felt acutely, a silent lament that echoed in my heart. A camping trip, I thought, would be just the thing to rekindle that old spark, to breathe life back into our friendship.
I found the perfect spot, a secluded lake known to the locals as Llyn Seren, or Star Lake. It was a place of unspoilt beauty, ringed by whispering forests and crowned with a sky that spilled over with stars come nightfall. The serenity of the location belied the terror that was to come.
With the location settled, I reached out to the lads. “Fancy a camping trip, chaps?” I asked in our group chat.
Alex was the first to respond, his enthusiasm seeping through the screen, “I’m in, Eddie! It’s about time we had a proper lads’ holiday.”
Charlie chimed in next, his words brimming with sarcasm, “I suppose I could do with some fresh air. Save me from becoming a complete couch potato.”
Brian was straightforward as always, “Sounds good, count me in.”
David, ever the prankster, replied with a string of camping and tent emojis, his way of saying yes.
There it was, the five of us set to embark on an adventure, a return to our roots. I could almost hear the echo of our childhood laughter in our messages, the camaraderie that had once defined us.
The day of our departure dawned bright and clear. We met at my place, our gear loaded into the back of my old Land Rover. The sight of my friends, all gathered together, warmed my heart.
Alex, with his infectious laugh, clapped me on the shoulder, “Ready to rough it out, Eddie?”
Brian, the dependable one, was double-checking our supplies, “We’ve got enough food and water, right?”
Charlie, always with a book in hand, was already lost in a novel, and David, unable to resist, quipped, “You sure you’re up for this, Charlie? Not too many bookshops in the wild.”
Charlie retorted without missing a beat, “And here I thought the biggest challenge would be putting up with your jokes, Dave.”
We all laughed, our shared history echoing in our banter. As we drove towards Llyn Seren, we were blissfully unaware that our camaraderie would soon be replaced by confusion and terror, our laughter silenced, and our lives irrevocably changed. But in that moment, we were simply five friends, embarking on an adventure, oblivious to the nightmare that awaited us.
I Saw Alex for the Last Time
The first day at Llyn Seren went off without a hitch. We spent our time setting up the tents, wrestling with the poles and canvas in a comedic display of ineptitude that had us all in stitches. “Blimey, Eddie, you sure this isn’t a circus tent?” Alex joked, his cheeks flushed with laughter.
Once the tents were up, we gathered firewood, the scent of pine and damp earth filling our nostrils. Alex, ever the showman, insisted on being the one to start the fire. He struggled with the flint and steel, his attempts only serving to amuse us further.
“I reckon you’d have more luck rubbin’ two sticks together, mate,” Brian teased, earning a round of laughter.
Eventually, we got the fire going. As night fell, we sat around it, the glow warming our faces, the crackling of the flames the only sound breaking the peaceful silence of the woods. We shared stories, each one more outrageous than the last, and we laughed, the sound echoing off the trees and across the placid lake. Alex, as always, was the life of the party, his stories the wildest, his laughter the loudest.
As the fire died down, and we retired to our tents, I remember looking at Alex. He was gazing up at the sky, his face bathed in the soft, silvery glow of the moon, a content smile on his lips. “Beautiful, innit?” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Makes you realise how small we really are.”
That was the last time I saw Alex.
The next morning, his tent was empty. His bedroll was untouched, his belongings still inside. But Alex was gone. The only sign of him was his mobile phone, discarded by the edge of the lake. As I picked it up, a sense of dread unfurled within me, a cold, gnawing fear that made my heart pound in my chest.
We called out for him, our voices echoing through the woods, but there was no response. Only the whispering wind and the rustling leaves answered us. As the hours ticked by, our laughter from the night before seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a heavy silence that settled over us like a shroud.
Little did we know, this was just the beginning.
I Found Brian’s Phone
In the days following Alex’s disappearance, the mood of our little group had taken a dramatic turn. The laughter and camaraderie that had once filled the air were replaced by a palpable tension, a shared dread that left us all feeling raw and on edge.
We still held out hope that Alex would come back, that he had just wandered off and gotten lost. But as the second day turned into the third, that hope started to wane. And when Brian went missing, it was extinguished entirely.
Brian’s disappearance was as inexplicable as Alex’s. He was there one moment, and then he was gone the next. It was a chilling echo of what had happened to Alex, a haunting repeat performance that sent a cold shiver of fear through me.
The only trace of Brian we found was his phone, discarded near the edge of our campsite. I remember the moment I found it, the way my heart hammered in my chest as I bent to pick it up. The feel of it in my hand, cold and impersonal, was a stark reminder of our grim situation.
“Blimey,” Charlie murmured, looking over my shoulder at the phone. “What’s going on, Eddie?”
“I don’t know, mate,” I replied, my voice heavy with the weight of my fear. “I really don’t know.”
That evening, we sat in a stunned silence around the dying fire, the empty spaces where Alex and Brian should have been serving as grim reminders of our situation. I could see the fear in Charlie and David’s eyes, the same fear that was gnawing at my own guts.
“It’s like we’re in some sort of horror film,” David said, his voice barely above a whisper. “One by one, we’re all just… disappearing.”
“Cut it out, Dave,” Charlie snapped, his voice shaky. “That’s not helping.”
David nodded, falling silent. We all did. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the distant hooting of an owl, the normal sounds of the woods that now felt menacing and ominous.
As I lay in my tent that night, the glow from my torch casting long, distorted shadows on the canvas, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled over me. I held Brian’s phone in my hand, staring at the blank screen. What was happening to us? Why were my friends disappearing? And more importantly, who would be next?
I Watched Charlie Vanish
With Brian now missing as well, our campsite felt emptier than ever. The three of us left – Charlie, David, and myself – spent the day in a state of suspended anxiety, waiting, hoping, for our friends to return. But as the hours passed, it became apparent that they wouldn’t be coming back.
That night, we huddled together around the fire, the crackling flames casting long, flickering shadows on our faces. We shared stories about Brian and Alex, trying to keep their memories alive. But the stories felt hollow, echoes of happier times that only served to remind us of our grim reality.
Charlie was the one who kept us going. He was always the joker, the one who could find humour in any situation. Even in the face of our growing fear, he tried to lighten the mood.
“Hey, Eddie,” he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “What’s the best thing about living in Switzerland?”
David and I exchanged glances. “I don’t know, Charlie,” I said, indulging him. “What’s the best thing?”
“Well, the flag’s a big plus,” Charlie replied, a grin on his face. Despite everything, I found myself chuckling, and even David cracked a smile. It was a moment of relief in an otherwise dark time.
But that relief was short-lived. Later that night, as the fire dwindled down to embers, Charlie vanished right before my eyes. One moment he was there, laughing at his own joke, and the next he was gone.
I jumped up, my heart pounding in my chest. “Charlie?” I called out, my voice echoing in the still night. But there was no response, only the rustling of leaves in the wind.
“Charlie!” David shouted, joining me. We raced to the spot where Charlie had been, but found nothing but his phone, lying face down on the ground.
I picked it up, my mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of my lungs. David and I exchanged a look of sheer terror, the silence around us deafening.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” David muttered, his voice shaky.
“I… I don’t know,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. I clutched Charlie’s phone in my hand, a cold dread settling in my gut.
With Charlie’s disappearance, it was clear that we were not alone. There was something else out there with us, something sinister and unseen. And one by one, it was taking us.
I Discovered David’s Final Message
After Charlie’s disappearance, the atmosphere around the camp was unbearable. David and I were the only ones left. We were both scared out of our wits, but we tried to maintain a brave front for each other’s sake. We spent the days in silence, too frightened to stray far from the campsite, and the nights huddled close to the fire, praying for the dawn to come.
One day, David broke the silence, his voice shaking slightly. “Eddie, do you remember that old British joke about the magic tractor?”
Taken aback, I stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face held a desperate attempt at a smile, a last-ditch effort to inject some normalcy into the nightmare we were living.
“No, I can’t say I do. What about it?” I responded, forcing a smile of my own.
“Well,” he began, a weak chuckle escaping his lips, “It went down a lane and turned into a field!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The joke was terrible, but his delivery, the desperate need to lighten the mood, was contagious. For a brief moment, we were just two mates, sharing a laugh by the campfire.
That night, I woke up to find David’s tent empty. Panic gripped me as I stumbled out of my own tent. His phone was lying outside, just a few feet away from his unzipped tent. I picked it up, my hand trembling. I could feel the icy grip of fear tighten around my heart.
I unlocked his phone, hoping for some clue about what had happened. There was a single audio file saved on his phone. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I pressed play.
David’s voice filled the air, his words rushed and panicked. “Eddie, if you’re listening to this, I don’t think I have much time. Something’s here with us. I can hear it outside my tent. If anything happens to me, promise me you’ll get out of here. Don’t try to find me. Just go.”
The recording ended abruptly with a rustling noise and a low, guttural growl that sent chills down my spine. I sat there, holding David’s phone, the reality of the situation hitting me like a ton of bricks.
David was gone, and I was alone. But worse than that, something was out there, something that had taken my friends. Something that, it seemed, was now coming for me.
I Realized I Was Alone
With David’s phone clutched in my hand, I found myself staring at the silent, indifferent woods that surrounded our campsite. I was alone, truly alone, and it felt like a punch to the gut. The silence that enveloped the place was not the serene silence of a peaceful camping trip. It was the kind of silence that precedes a storm, the kind that sends shivers down your spine and makes your heart pound in your chest.
“David, mate, where the bloody hell are you?” I shouted, my voice echoing through the trees. I half-expected him to jump out from behind a tree, laughing at his successful prank. But there was no answer. Just the haunting quietness of the woods.
I started to think back, to piece together the sequence of events, and a horrible thought struck me. Was I to blame? Had I done something to my friends? The fear was paralyzing, and I shook my head, as if physically trying to dispel the thought.
“Pull yourself together, Eddie,” I murmured to myself. “You’re not losing your marbles. You’re just… scared, that’s all.”
But as the days turned into nights and the nights back into days, the gnawing thought wouldn’t leave me. I found myself talking to the empty air, trying to keep my sanity intact.
“You know, David, my old nan used to say, ‘A stitch in time saves nine.’ I never really got what she meant, but I reckon it’s about fixing problems before they get out of hand. Not sure how I could’ve stitched this situation though.” I chuckled weakly at my own feeble attempt at humor.
But in the quiet of the night, when the fire’s glow was the only source of light and the shadows seemed to dance with a life of their own, I couldn’t help but think of my friends. Alex, Brian, Charlie, David - all gone. I replayed our last conversations, our shared jokes, the sound of their laughter. It all seemed so distant, like a dream fading into obscurity.
And then, the horrible thought returned. Had I done something to them? I could feel the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around my heart. For the first time, I started to wonder if I was the cause of my friends’ disappearances. It was a terrifying thought, one that made my blood run cold and my hands shake.
It was the start of a dark journey, one that would lead me to question everything I knew about myself. But at that moment, all I knew was that I was alone. The last man standing in a deadly game I didn’t understand.
I Found the Strange Messages
It was the third day since David’s disappearance, and I decided to delve into the last remaining pieces of my friends - their phones. There was a sense of intrusion, a violation of their privacy, but I was desperate for any clue.
“Alright, Alex, let’s see what you were up to, mate,” I muttered to myself, swiping through his messages and photos. Everything seemed normal. Photos of his dog, texts to his girlfriend, a few downloaded films. Nothing that would suggest what had happened to him.
Next was Brian’s phone. It was the same story. Photos of his family, messages to us arranging the trip, some jokes that made me chuckle despite the circumstances. “Brian, you always were the joker,” I sighed, remembering his infectious laughter.
Charlie’s phone was a bit different. He was a private person, and it showed. His phone was full of notes, thoughts, ideas. I found myself lost in his mind, understanding my friend in a way I never had before. It was a bittersweet feeling, a connection formed in absence.
David’s phone was the most chilling. It was his final message that had haunted my dreams. I had replayed it countless times, hoping to find some hidden meaning, some clue to his fate. But there was nothing.
And then, out of curiosity, I checked my own phone. Scrolling through my messages, I found something that sent a chill down my spine. There were messages sent from my phone to each of my friends. Messages I had no memory of writing.
“Alex, meet me by the lake. Bring no torch. We’ll look at the stars,” one message read.
“Brian, there’s something I want to show you in the woods. Come alone,” another one stated.
“Charlie, let’s take a walk tonight, just like old times,” I had apparently sent.
“David, there’s something in the woods I want you to see. Don’t tell Eddie,” the last message to David read.
The messages were cryptic, eerie, and they were all sent late at night. I couldn’t remember sending them. I couldn’t remember anything about those nights. I felt a knot in my stomach, a creeping fear crawling up my spine.
“Blimey, am I going round the twist?” I whispered to myself, the words barely audible. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the crackling of the dying fire.
The realisation was like a sledgehammer hitting me. The messages suggested that I was responsible for what happened to Alex, Brian, Charlie, and David. The evidence was in my hand, stark and undeniable. But the truth was slipping through my fingers, shrouded in forgotten memories and cryptic messages. I was drowning in a sea of confusion and fear, struggling to make sense of the nonsensical.
As I sat there in the cold, harsh light of truth, I felt more alone than ever. The mystery of my friends’ disappearances was unravelling, and I was at its centre.
I Uncovered My Dark Side
I sat there, holding my phone, the dark screen reflecting the fear in my eyes. The messages stared back at me, their implications heavy and suffocating. My mind was a whirlwind, trying to make sense of it all, trying to remember something, anything, about those fateful nights. But there was only darkness, an abyss that swallowed my memories.
I cast my mind back, attempting to trace my steps. I remembered the bonfires, the camaraderie, the stories, and then… nothing. There were gaps, missing pieces, fragments of time that had slipped away like sand through my fingers.
I looked down at my hands, noticing for the first time the scratches and bruises that adorned them. Where had they come from? I couldn’t remember hurting myself. It was as if I was looking at the hands of a stranger, a stranger who had done terrible things.
Frustrated, I paced around the campsite, talking to myself, “Get a grip, Eddie. This is no time to lose your marbles.”
I forced myself to calm down, to think rationally. I had been losing time, waking up with no memory of the previous day, with unexplained injuries. The messages, the disappearances, the injuries - it all pointed towards me. But how could I accept that? How could I accept that I was the monster in our story?
Staring into the fire, I had a chilling thought. Could it be possible that I was doing things without knowing? Could I have a dark side, one that took over when the sun went down?
“Could I be… Jekyll and Hyde?” I murmured, the words sending a chill down my spine.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought, but it clung to me, an unwanted parasite. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, forming a terrifying picture. A picture of me as the villain, the cause of my friends’ vanishings.
I sat down, my head in my hands. It felt like the world was spinning around me, a nightmarish merry-go-round. “This is bonkers,” I whispered, my voice choked with fear. I felt the tears welling up, the desperation threatening to consume me.
The silence of the woods seemed to mock me, the whispering trees bearing witness to my unraveling. I felt small, insignificant amidst the towering trees and the vast expanse of the lake. I was lost in a story that seemed to have no end, a story where I was the villain.
As the reality of my situation sank in, I couldn’t help but laugh - a bitter, hollow sound that echoed through the silence. Here I was, Eddie the jester, the one who always had a joke to lighten the mood, the one who could always make his friends laugh. But this time, I was the punchline. The joke was on me, and it was a cruel one.
The woods echoed back my laughter, a haunting reminder of my solitude. As I sat there, the last man standing, the truth dawned on me. I was alone. Alone with the shadows of my friends and my dark side. Alone in this beautiful yet sinister place, a place where I had become the monster.
I Faced My Worst Fear
Sitting by the dying embers of the fire, I contemplated the monster I had become. A monster that lurked beneath the surface of the man I thought I was. A monster that had devoured my friends. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the cruellest of revelations.
I tried to picture their faces one last time, the sound of their laughter, the camaraderie we shared. But their images were tarnished now, overshadowed by the grotesque reality of my actions.
“Blimey, Eddie,” I muttered to myself, my voice barely a whisper, “you’ve really cocked this one up, haven’t you?”
I could almost hear Charlie’s voice, chastising me, “Eddie, mate, you always were a bit of a nutter, but this… this is just mental.”
And Brian, ever the voice of reason, “Ed, you need help. Serious help. This isn’t something you can just laugh off with a stupid joke.”
Alex, the joker, would probably have said, “Well, Eddie, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. You were always good at hide and seek, but this is taking it a bit too far, don’t you think?”
And David, the silent observer, he’d just shake his head in disbelief.
I felt a lump in my throat, my heart aching at the memories. Memories that were now tainted with blood and betrayal. I missed them, more than I could put into words. I missed their laughter, their jokes, their companionship. I missed the men they were and the boyhood we shared. But most of all, I missed the man I thought I was.
“Why can’t you lot be here to take the mickey out of me?” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. “I could really use a good roasting right about now.”
But the woods offered no comfort, only a bleak reminder of my solitude. I was alone, the architect of my own loneliness. The irony of it was almost laughable.
I felt the weight of guilt pressing down on me, a tangible force that threatened to consume me. I was a monster, a friend turned nightmare. My own worst fear.
And so I sat there, the fire dwindling to mere embers, my guilt the only companion in my solitude. The laughter and camaraderie of the past replaced by a deafening silence, the silence of the woods, the silence of my friends, the silence of the monster within me.
In the cruel light of the truth, I was forced to face my worst fear. Myself. The realization was a jagged pill to swallow, ripping through my self-perception and replacing it with a horrifying image.
As the last of the firelight flickered and died, I was left in darkness. A darkness that mirrored my soul, the soul of a monster. I was the beast that lurked in the shadows, the fear that haunted the night. I was the killer.
“I’m sorry, lads,” I murmured into the darkness, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. But there was no one left to hear my apology. Only the silent, indifferent woods. Only the shadows that hid my dark secret. Only the monster that I had become.