Me (Tatum Norlander), Charlie Baker, and Marcus Kennedy sat by the campfire with our cub scout troop. Three best friends all enjoying each other’s company. Charlie was in the middle of one of his infamous scary stories. He was always the best storyteller. Everyone would joke that one day he would become an author or something. Gosh if only that were true. If only he’d just made it past that night.
Charlie reached the climax of his story, and we all screamed as the character of the story was attacked by the axe-wielding goat-headed man. Then it ended and our screams of terror turned into affirmations and applause. As usual, it was a great story.
After a long while of sitting by the fire, I noticed Charlie slipped away from the fire exclaiming that he was tired. Not much longer later I agreed with that sentiment and retreated to my tent. It was quite a distance away from the other tents. I was still warm from the fire and I pulled myself into my sleeping bag next to Charlie in an instant, I was out.
That night I experienced something that has haunted me to this very day. It started with me sitting up in the tent next to Charlie. I was hearing things outside the tent. Strange grunts and what I can only describe as barking purrs. I looked around every which way worried about what could be outside. Bracing myself I put one hand against the nylon wall only for me to feel something press against it on the other side. I wanted to scream but right as I did this new sound this rolling droning growl began and suddenly I couldn’t move. I’m not sure why.
Dread.
That was the feeling that came over me. It was so incredibly all-encompassing that I couldn’t move.
Then another sensation hit me.
The Smell. The putrid smell of the thing almost made me want to puke. It smelled like a massive dumpster of burning trash, but there was something else there too. The horrible smell of something dead, something rotting and dead. I wanted to cover my mouth but I so was afraid I just sat there drowning in the fear and the horrible smell.
I listened to heavy footsteps patrolling around the tent. They rustled the dry leaves and broke branches. Suddenly I began to regret putting our tent so far from the others. I didn’t want to be kept up by the other’s chatter so I’d convinced Charlie to help me move the tent a hundred or so feet away.
Then I heard things begin to drag against the nylon of our tent. It sounded scratchy and weird. It sounded similar to nails on a chalkboard. The noise of the dragging on the nylon was so shrill it stung my ears but I was so frozen with dread and fear I could do nothing. I felt lightheaded and sick in the stomach, the smell, the sound, the fear, it all felt so underwhelming.
It seemingly lasted hours. The whole time I felt I was on the edge of puking, or screaming, but I could do nothing but sit there and listen. At some point, a light drizzle began and the sound of the pitter-pattering of raindrops drowned out the noises. I felt that sense of protection that a child feels when hiding under the covers. You know it’s still there but at least you don’t have to suffer by observing it.
The only sounds I would hear now were the sounds of things touching and dragging against the nylon, and occasionally I might’ve caught the sound of a faint growl but that was it. I still sat there absolutely petrified and that’s when I heard it, the sound of ripping nylon. I looked to see something cutting through the tent wall along the zipper. Or I don’t know if cutting would be the right word, it was more like an exact rip than a cut. I looked to see what it was, but it was far too dark. I watched the dark shape slowly rip further and further down until there was a gash from the top to the bottom of the tent. I shook so violently that I had to assume the thing or person knew I was there.
Once the large gash had been made something dark started to make its way into the tent. I looked but the smell intensified as it made its way to the tent. The smell was so bad my eyes watered up. It was such a thick overpowering smell that I felt like it was choking me. I felt like I could taste it and, it was horrendous.
I endured through the pain of my teary eyes and looked once more, and I saw it begin to come inside. It was very long and very hairy. From the small amount I could see it looked to be a limb. It reached into the tent seemingly being careful not to let any more of its body in. Its limb, its arm slinked further and further in and I almost wanted to puke. That thing, that arm was way too big, way too long. It could reach from the door to me without even putting its shoulder into the tent. It felt so uncanny and wrong, it looked like something you might see in a night terror, but the worst part was it was real.
It seemed to reach around the tent seemingly trying to find what was inside. Then its arm brushed against my backpack which lay on the floor next to me. It grabbed hold with what seemed to be freakishly long fingers, before slowly eerily beginning to drag the bag out of the tent.
My fear didn’t die but seemed to fade slightly in relief. The thing just wanted the bag. As it pulled the backpack up to the hole it seemingly didn’t fit through properly. The thing ripped an even larger hole before the sound of ripping fabric and nylon and then in an instant my backpack disappeared into the night.
Silence, for a split second, made no sound.
I listened to the thing as it rustled around with the bag letting out slight grunts that sounded frustrated. It let out one especially loud grunt before a loud ripping sound, and then a clatter of the contents of my bag falling to the ground. I recognized all the different sounds. The tink of my water bottle, the thump of my clothes, the crash of my utensils, and the crinkling crunch of a bag of chips. I listened as it seemingly fiddled around with the objects. Crack! The sound of it shattering something made me jump internally. I was still so scared of this thing. I prayed in my head that this monster would just go away. I’m not sure why hearing it break something particularly scared me, but it did.
Maybe it was just because at this point my brain could pass it off as peaceful but not anymore.
I then listened to the shrill noise of a plastic bag of chips being torn open. Heavy sniffing followed, and then I thought over the rain I could hear the crunching of the thing eating a chip. After it ate one it quickly ate all the rest. It shifted back toward the tent and the brief relief changed to pure terror.
Unable to move still I watched helplessly as the arm forced its way back through the hole. I felt its long wet finger briefly brush against my sleeping bag. They were so long. They reminded me of knarled branches or the long legs of some spider thing. The fingers seemed to examine the bag for a second before pulling it. I shifted slightly, absolutely petrified imagining it pulling me out and eating me whole. It let go of my bag and the arm slowly drifted over to the other sleeping bag.
Charlie.
I’d been so terrified I didn’t even think about him.
He lay next to me, still sleeping soundly with a slight grin on his face. I wanted to do something, wanted to say something, but I could do nothing but stare as the thing began to grab at the end of his sleeping bag. Charlie didn’t shake, move, or even react. Time seemed to freeze as its hand glided over to the end of Charlie’s bag. It seemed to caress the bag for a moment before it gave his bag a yank. I felt his weight shift about within the confines of the tent. For a reason I can’t explain though Charlie seemed to satisfy it better.
It got a tight grip on the bag and began pulling the bag and him out of the tent. It was prolonged as he was slowly pulled out one inch at a time. His eyes opened wide and without moving his head he looked toward the hand. His face flashed with terror but like me, he just froze in fear, as it slowly pulled him outside. His fear only seemed to grow when the end of the sleeping bag disappeared beyond the rip in the tent. Gradually more and more were pulled out. I shook and shook as one of my best friends disappeared through a hole in the wall of the tent. Just before he fully disappeared through the hole his eyes met mine, they were terrified and seemed to plead for help, for someone to save him from this horrible fate, but there was no one.
Once he was completely pulled out I heard shuffling and the ripping of fabric as the sleeping bag was shredded. I imagined some giant with long fingernails clawing away at the sleeping bag trying to get to my friend. Then the ripping sound stopped and I heard a slight thump through the pitter-patter of the rain. Then the sleeping bag was thrown into the puddle with a splash sounding much lighter now. It was then I made the horrifying realization, that it had ripped him out of the bag and was now taking him away. I heard heavy footsteps grow fainter and fainter before fading. Once the footsteps couldn’t be heard the sound couldn’t be heard and finally I let out a blood-curdling scream.
I heard the yelps and screams of the other scouts in reaction to my own. I shook and shook in the corner of my tent, as I heard my leader begin to make his way over to the tent. I heard the thunks of his boots until they stopped. He hadn’t reached my tent yet so I couldn’t comprehend why he’d stopped walking. Then he gasped, the thunking turned to slam as he sprinted the rest of the way over and peeked inside the tent calling our names. He saw me alone and shaking too traumatized to even speak, besides a single phrase: “Ch- Charlie, it took Charlie.”