The Tent

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Camping was something that I absolutely hated. I don't know why James insisted that we go camping in the woods near our hometown, but I couldn't help but give in. Ever since his father passed away, he hasn't been alright. Friends of his confided in me and explained that he was wasn't doing the best. 

He was a bit reckless lately, doing whatever he wanted whenever he felt like it. He once called me up at three in the morning, asking me to go with him to watch the stars in the middle of the woods. I didn't hesitate on his offer, but I made sure to bring a knife with me, in case some random asshole attempted to harm us out there. 

I heard of so many stories of people getting killed in the woods, and even though our hometown is pretty damn safe, I'm not taking any fucking chances. I remembered how James was lying on his back on the hood of his car, a faraway look in his eyes. He turned to look at me, a big smile on his face. He took hold of my hand that wasn't holding the knife, and he told me something that led to a chill going down my spine. 

"My father spoke to me last night. He told me he is waiting for me, somewhere out here in the woods."

I didn't know what to say to that. I remained silent, and stayed by him the whole night, until daylight came around. I had fallen asleep, knife clamped in my right hand, and I had woken up to James shaking me, telling me it was time to leave. 

When I got in the passenger seat, he placed a finger on his lips, his eyes not leaving mine. 

"Don't tell anyone what I told you last night. It will be our little secret, yeah? Don't want my mother and my other friends to know that I'm turning into a fucking nutjob."

He smiled after telling me this, and I gave him an uncomfortable smile. It was all I could do. How else could I have reacted? He was my friend, and it was going through a rough time. It was normal to not be yourself. But even I had to admit that James was being a little too extreme for my taste. 

I did not want to agree to his offer of camping in the woods, but with the way he was acting, I was starting to become afraid that he would…do something to himself. Ever since that night, James would continue his strange behavior. He would tell me about his father, that he spoke to him occasionally, whenever he was alone. 

I would listen with a fake attentiveness, wondering what the hell was going on with my friend. I once attempted to convince him to seek therapy, and he instantly shut me down. 

"I can't do that."

"Why? You need fucking help, man -''

"No one can help me. My father said so."

I would stop asking him after that. Again, it was all I could do. I watched James set up the tent, his tongue sticking out as he continued his work. I asked him multiple times if he needed help, but he insisted that he was fine. There was no arguing with James. Well, it was impossible at this point. After James was done with the tent, he threw an arm around my shoulder, a huge grin on his lips. 

"Isn't this wonderful, Alan? Just you and me out here, alone. Spending time together…you're my only true friend, you know? Everyone else pretends that everything is fine, but you don't. That's why I love you, man."

James kissed me on the cheek, and set off back to the tent, whistling. I followed after him, wanting to ask him if he was alright again, but I kept the worry to myself. At least he wouldn't be alone tonight. We slept in separate beds in the tent, and I watched him sleep. 

I knew he was pretending to sleep, and at some point, he opened his eyes, and they were filled with amusement. 

"Like what you see, Alan?"

"You can't sleep, right?"

James smiled. "Nope. I'm waiting for my dad. He told me he would come for me tonight."

He placed a finger on my lips. "Go to sleep, Alan. You were my true friend."

I was going to stay awake for him, I really was, but it was like his command had broken some sort of spell over me, and I fell dead asleep. When I woke up, I was confused why daylight was right in my face. When I noticed what was wrong, I felt my heart stop. There was a massive hole in the tent. I crawled out of the fabric, calling out for my friend. 

I did not stop until my voice became hoarse. I started to wildly search the tent for my friend's keys, and I thought I heard a jangle nearby. When I put my hands into my jacket pocket, dread seized me. James put his keys into my pocket. I ran to the vehicle, and even though I didn't want to leave, I had to call 911. The area we camped in was too far to get a signal. 

I didn't stop driving until I reached town. I ran to the nearest place that I arrived at. It was the diner, and it was a place that James and I used to hang out and have dinner together. When things were alright, and his dad was alive. I felt tears appear in my eyes as I called the police. I couldn't hold back the sobs when I told them what happened. 

When the authorities investigated the campsite, they wondered if he was dragged away, or if he had cut the hole himself and vanished into the woods. A massive search party was held, but he was never found. I felt so sorry for his mother, she would never be alright again. She had lost not just her husband, but her only son. 

I continued my own investigation when the authorities were forced to give up, but even I never found him. He was gone. For good. Forever, perhaps. I think it was best for me to never return. There was something that I was surprised that the authorities never noticed about the tent. 

There were three lines torn into the tent. They looked like claw marks. It couldn't have been from a bear, because that shit would have woken me up. So, what the fuck was that? Did James use something to cut his way through the tent? What the fuck happened that night?

I don't think I will ever know. And now I'm starting to have these horrible dreams. When I sleep, I hear James calling for me in the middle of the night. I don't think I'm actually hearing this. I'm not going crazy like James did. But his voice is so clear from my bedroom window. I never dare to take a look. I cover myself from head to toe with my blanket, my knife in hand. 

Whatever it is, or if it is James, I won't give in. Not like he did. 

Whatever happened to him that night, it wasn't his dad who came for him. 

It was something else. And I hope it will never get me. 

I won't give in like James did.

But there are days that I want to. I miss him so much. 

He was my friend. My only friend. 

And I loved him for that. 

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Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn