I’ve never been much of an outdoors-y type. Growing up, I always preferred reading, writing, video games… pretty much anything that kept me away from bugs, sweat, and sunburns. But recently, I’ve gotten really hooked on watching these camping videos. Whether it’s people testing out cool new camping gadgets or just enjoying the quiet solitude of their local wilderness, I find them oddly relaxing. I’ve spent countless hours over the last few months watching other people camp, strange as that may seem.
So, I finally decided that I was going to go camping myself for the first time. I had some extra days off work to use before the end of the year, and I even got some basic gear from my grandparents as an early Christmas present. Everything was falling into place, but I still didn’t feel entirely comfortable going out on my own. Sure, I’ve watched plenty of videos, but I wasn’t naive enough to think that would keep me from making a fool of myself (or worse) out in the elements all alone, especially this time of year.
My childhood friend, Jordan, seemed to be the best candidate to tag along. He was an Eagle Scout (or still is? Not sure how that works…) and always told me stories about camping with his dad when he was younger. Luckily, he was free the weekend I was eyeing, so we started getting things planned. There’s a small state park about six hours from where we live, and it’s ranked as one of the best places for stargazing in the country. We’d drive up on a Friday, stay a few days, and come back down the following Monday. Jordan helped me get the rest of the gear we needed, and we started nailing down the particulars on food, campground reservations, etc.
The big day came faster than I was expecting, and on a cold, foggy morning two weeks ago we hit the road with a loaded-up trunk and a playlist of our favorite 90s songs. The drive went by fairly quickly as we quizzed each other on the names of some of the one-hit-wonders and laughed at the cringey boy band lyrics. As we got farther from home, we admired the strange old buildings of the towns we passed through, and soon the flat, sparsely populated plains grew into rolling hills and thick forests like what you’d see in a Bob Ross painting.
We made good time, only stopping once to grab something for lunch. It was still early afternoon by the time we passed the welcome sign for the park, a weathered old billboard with chipping paint. The paved highway gave way to gravel and dirt, and the trees of the forest moved up to only a few feet away on either side. We knew the campgrounds would be pretty barren with how cold it was expected to be for the weekend. Sure enough, we didn’t pass a single other vehicle or occupied lot on the entire winding path back to our reserved section.
“Alright, this is us,” Jordan broke the silence as we pulled up to a small clearing. He put his clunky old Subaru in park and killed the engine. It seemed to sigh in relief as we stepped out and shut the doors behind us. Jordan went to start unloading the trunk, “Figured it’d be dead this time of year, but didn’t realize we’d be the ONLY ones out here. Guess we don’t have to worry about making too much noise.”
I was immediately in love. The campground wasn’t much more than a small messy circle of gravel, a rickety picnic table just off the side in the grass, and what looked like a firepit a little further away. But it was so… quiet. You couldn’t hear anything but the occasional bird chirping or leaves rustling. I told Jordan to hold up on unloading the car for just a moment so I could fully take it in. For someone that grew up sandwiched between a busy city street and the railroad tracks, it was nothing short of magical.
After I recovered from my new-camper culture shock (and Jordan was done making fun of me), we got to setting everything up. We had two separate tents, though we both could have probably fit in one. Jordan finished getting his ready before I had even figured out how to get mine fully unpacked. He graciously helped me set it up next to his. We grabbed our bundle of firewood and left it by the firepit along with some pans and other cookware. We threw our sleeping bags in the tents and decided to keep the food cooler locked in the car for the time being. We didn’t plan on seeing any bears, but better safe than sorry.
After all was said and done, the sun had just started to dip below the tree line on the horizon. It was already starting to get chilly, and we had both worked up a decent appetite. Jordan got the fire going, and I retrieved our cooking ingredients and a couple bottled waters from the car. We made some basic chicken soup and passed a loaf of French bread back and forth, tearing off chunks and dipping it in the broth. Any other day it would have been a mediocre dinner, but in the fresh, cold air, sitting by a crackling fire with a friend, it tasted like a five-star meal.
By the time we finished eating, the sun was gone and the sky was just barely holding on to the last bits of twilight. “Give it another hour or so and it should be primetime for stargazing,” Jordan checked his watch. “No clouds either, couldn’t ask for a better day.” A stiff wind blew through the camp and we both shivered a bit. Jordan zipped his coat up further, “Well, maybe coulda asked for a little warmer day, but other than that…”
It was the longest hour of the day by far. I did my best not to look up. Maybe it sounds dumb, but I wanted to take it all in at once, seeing all the stars under the perfect conditions. Jordan teased me some more and told me I should’ve brought some horse blinders if I was really serious about it. I ignored him and continued stoking the fire with a long, dead branch. Eventually, the flickering from the fire was practically the only light left. I looked to Jordan to see if it was time. He just smirked and pointed upwards.
My breath leaked out of me in an instant. None of the pictures or online reviews had prepared me. It was an endless ocean of stars. They filled every inch of my vision, and even as I glanced around, I could barely find the edges. They twinkled rhythmically, like some sort of invisible waves were moving through them. I felt smaller than I ever had before, and yet there was an immediate comfort in it. Like realizing everything I had ever worried about was smaller too.
I reached out a hand in front of me, almost as if I was trying to remind myself that I still existed. Seeing my own body silhouetted against the cosmic backdrop, I began to feel a sort of weightlessness. No, it was more than that, like something was pulling me up, or maybe the Earth was pushing me away. My jaw slackened and my body seemed to go limp. I wasn’t cold anymore. I didn’t feel much of anything, to be honest. My mind drifted and my body followed like an unwitting stowaway.
Suddenly, I felt a rough jolt. I blinked and found myself laying on my back in the grass. Jordan stood over me with a strange look on his face. I blinked a few more times and started to cough as I found my mouth and throat had gone almost completely dry. “Jesus dude, you alright?” Jordan helped me sit up and got me some water. I nodded in thanks but didn’t say anything.
“You went completely blank for a bit there,” Jordan sounded concerned. “I thought you were just taking it all in, but after a couple minutes I realized nothing I was saying was getting through.”
A couple minutes? That wasn’t right. I had only been looking at the stars for a few moments. Maybe thirty seconds at the most.
“Came over to touch your shoulder and make sure you were all good,” Jordan made a sweeping downward motion with his arms. “And then BAM! You just fell like a plank of wood. You sure you’re alright?”
I assured him I was okay, but I honestly didn’t feel like it. Somehow that moment of elation and wonder had left a sour taste behind. I glanced up at the stars again and felt the same sense of awe as before, but I quickly forced myself to look back to the now-dying fire. Jordan tried to lighten the mood a bit, likening it to the first time he had seen the ocean. But I couldn’t shake the uneasiness. After another hour or so, we decided to turn in for bed a little early.
I left the overhead window of my tent zipped shut. I silently cursed myself for ruining the mood over such an odd thing, especially after it had been such an otherwise amazing day. Tomorrow, I’d put it in the past, we’d explore the park some more, and we’d look at the stars again without any unwelcome fugue episodes. I closed my eyes and pulled my sleeping bag tightly around me. I only made it a few minutes before I heard the whispering.
I sat straight up. I had heard the distinct sound of a hushed whisper no more than a few feet away, though I hadn’t heard what was said. I was as still as death as I listened for more. Nothing. Nothing but trees rustling and owls hooting. Had I imagined it? Was I still just on edge? My body was covered in a cold sweat. I tried to lay back down.
But there they were again. Whispers. Louder this time. Closer this time. My breathing became shallow and I started shaking. They were gone again as soon as they came. I hadn’t caught any words… because there were no words. Only things that sounded like words. Like a child making noises for the first time, mimicking without understanding. But the voice was too deep to be a child, and too real to be a dream.
I flung the front of my tent open and half-ran, half-crawled over to Jordan’s tent. I started calling out his name as I unzipped the opening. My heart dropped as I shone my phone’s flashlight inside. Empty. Nothing but a crumpled sleeping bag and a half-eaten bag of trail mix.
He had just gone to use the bathroom, I told myself in a panic. He’ll be back in a minute. Maybe he had even been the one whispering, playing a prank on me for acting so weird. But multiple minutes passed and I was still alone. The problem was, with every passing moment, I felt more and more not alone. I looked at my phone and found a small amount of hope in seeing that I still had a signal, albeit a weak one.
I fumbled with my fingers to unlock it and scroll through my contact list to find Jordan. I tapped on his name and held it to my ear. I rocked back and forth on my heels as it started to ring. It rang on and on, and after a few seconds it started to play his voicemail message. I hung up and tapped his name again. More ringing. I held the phone against my forehead as I tried to slow my breathing.
And then, without the phone pressed against my ear, I heard an answering ring, echoing from far out in the trees. A phone’s default ringtone. Much farther out than you would need to go to take a leak. I slowly dropped my phone to my side and hung up. The ringing in the forest stopped too. If I could have left right then, I would have. But the owner of that phone also had the keys to the car.
My body stopped pumping blood, pumping only pure adrenaline in its place. I walked in a straight line in the direction I had heard the ringing. I pushed through the thick trees at the edge of the campground and didn’t even register as the bushes and undergrowth started cutting into my pants and legs. I let the small circle of light from my phone guide me forward. A couple times I called Jordan again. Each time the ringing was louder. After I don’t know how long, the ground before me turned from rocks and roots back into grass.
I looked up and found myself in a small gap in the forest. The stars and moon bathed the clearing in dim blue light. In the center lay a small mound of flesh, naked and shivering. Jordan. I ran up and knelt down next to him. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, and I could see pitiful little breaths still escaping from his lips. His whole body was covered in sweat and his hair clung to his forehead. I shook him and called his name, but he didn’t respond. The only response I got came a second later.
The whispering returned from all around me at once. Garbled voices, gibberish that meant nothing but sounded so purposeful. It grew louder and louder, until it was more like screams than whispers. I looked around wildly and saw nothing but trees. And when there was nowhere left to look, I once again looked up. And the stars were there again, but they no longer held wonder. They ebbed and pulsed like an astrological stew, boiling with power and fury. The whispers were in the stars and the stars were all around me.
I mouthed a silent scream and ripped my gaze away. As I looked down, I found Jordan’s eyes wide open, staring back at me. There were no whites or pupils, just unending, swirling blackness. He opened his mouth and spoke in a voice that grated like TV static.
“LET US BE BORN.”
Everything after is still hazy to me. It comes in bursts and flashes, but the details are long gone. I ran away, leaving my friend behind. By some miracle I found the campsite again. I must have called the emergency line, because the next thing I remember is a park ranger showing up and letting me warm up in her car. She went out into the forest despite my protests. A few minutes later she returned with Jordan’s body. She tried to call for help on her radio, but he was gone.
I had to talk to a lot of police officers over the next 48 hours. The story I told them was only bits of the truth. I left out the parts I knew they wouldn’t believe. The parts I barely believed myself. Their current ruling calls his death an accident, hypothermia after getting lost in the woods on a cold winter night. Maybe they’re right. It didn’t make facing his family any easier.
I haven’t left my house much since then. I work from home and I have my food delivered. Some nights, when I open the front door to get my packages, I briefly glance up at the few measly stars that manage to peek through the light polluted city skies.
And I feel so small.