This isn't a
campfire ghost story. This story was told to me by my brother who swears
it's true. I'm sure it could be adapted into campfire story.
It
is worth pointing out that my brother is an engineer. He meets many of
the stereotypes and is not well known for is imaginative creativity. I
say this because I doubt he would be able to concoct a story like this.
Every time he tells it he appears unnerved. So for whats its worth, I
believe that he thinks this is a genuine experience he had.
Location: North West of Flores Island
I
couple years ago my brother and his friends took two handcrafted rowed
dinghys up the wild western coast of Vancouver Island. It's a place of
extreme weather, gorgeous beaches, and bountiful wildlife. Their plan
was to explore the various small little inlets, and islands that dot the
western coast and use as much from the wilderness as they could. They
would fish for much of their meals, make fires from the driftwood, and
use the boats and a tarp for shelter.
They made good
progress their first two days. They had a slight headwind, but
frequently ducking behind islands made the journey pleasant. The first
night they camped on a beach and didn't even bother with the tent,
choosing to have the stars above them.
They
woke early the next morning and headed out into the water, one person
rowing the other fishing. They caught a salmon, and continued on their
journey, passing seals, otters, and plenty of birds.
The
second night passed equally uneventfully. More spectacular sunsets,
lovely beaches. The sky was a little cloudier, and they fell asleep with
rain gently tapping away at their tarp.
The next day the
weather had gotten a little windier. All the same they headed back into
the waves. They had less luck with the fishing this day, but were
content to row their way up the coast. As nightfall they made their way
towards a small island. The waves and increased in size, and coming into
a sheltered bay with a long beach they found themselves working hard to
ride the waves in. Huge waves crashed into the beach, and they had to
be careful not to get swept into rocks, or turn perpendicular to the
waves and risk a capsize.
My brother was the
first ashore. The moment his feet hit the sand he felt uneasy. Not any
specific reason for it. He just felt uncomfortbale. They hauled the
boats onto the shore and while two of the boys went to make a fire, the
other two started trying to make their shelter. The weather was
deteriorating and they needed a solid set up.
As
they went about their tasks they were all clearly feeling
uncomfortable. Finally someone broke the silence and asked " Does
something feel a little off to you?" . They all agreed immediately.
Something felt just wrong and uncomfortable. But night was falling and
they didn't have time to try and make it to a new site.
My
brother went off in search of some stout poles for the shelter when he
heard something moving in long grass. It sounded small like a large
rodent, maybe a small otter. He would have ignored it but the uneasiness
made him jumpy. He grabbed a stick, but felt immediately silly, and put
it back down.
He found a good pole, and
turned to head back towards the rest of the group when the bushes, and
grass all shook. It sounded like a deer moving about, but not really.
There was no snapping of branches, or sticks. He looked about and saw
nothing, but now felt very very uneasy. He hustled back to the guys. As
he got there another movement shook the grasses closer to the camp.
Everyone cast their lights about trying to find the source, but it was
in vain.
They started the fire, my brother says
they had hoped it would make them feel a little more secure, but the
opposite happened. Seconds after the fire was lit a whole section of the
grasses and bushes began to shake. Fearing a bear, they all grabbed
sticks and rocks, and shouted at it. The grass just rustled, shook and
swayed then died down.
They immediately decided
they didn't want to be there anymore. Despite the darkness, the
challenging surf, they would finish their dinner, and get the heck out
of there. The two boys working on the shelter immediately set about
dismantling it.
The fire was sputtering,
growing in size, and they tried to get the pots to sit properly on it,
but found themselves thinking more of growing darkness around them, and
the deep sense of disturbance none of them could shake.
Then
the rustling returned, wider then before, as if a whole 100 metre
section of grass and bushes just beyond the light were being shaken
forcefully. They jumped up casting their lights about, seeing no
silhouettes, just grass heaving back and forth.
The
tempo began to increase, and it spread, slowly edging further and
further in either direction around the beach. Soon they were surrounded
by swaying, rustling, vegetation with their backs to the sea. Louder and
louder the sounds grew, until it was a crashing crescendo. The plants
slamming back and forth viciously, even the trees joined in crashing up
and down, backward and forwards. They couldn't hear themselves think.
The cacophony drowned out the sound of the crashing ways.
They
didn't discuss it, they just all ran for the boats, tossed their gear
inside, and ran them to the water, hopping in and charging into the
surf, their dinner uneaten. One of them got bowled over by a waved as he
pushed the boat, tumbling in the water he right himself and dashed
back, his partner hauling him in. They rowed as hard as they could out
of the waves.
As they got passed the surf the
crashing trees, bushes and grass came to a hault. The only sound that
remained was the waves. As they drifted their catching their breath they
look backed to their beach. My brother says he imagined a figure,
though he thinks its a false memory, or his imagination turning shadows
into something more sinister. But each boy saw as they looked back, the
fire suddenly extinguish.
They rowed through
the night. To much adrenaline, and fear in them to sleep. They cancelled
the trip and headed back to their start point arriving exhausted and
relieved.
My brother said the whole time he was
on the island he felt like he was trespassing, and very much not
welcome. He also says that he makes no assumptions about what it was. I
asked him about it being the wind and he says it was too consistent to
be wind, and he watched trees move inconsistent with how wind moves
trees, but acknowledges he was so stress, he might have not noticed it.
Curiously
I mentioned this to someone who spent a great deal of time guiding in
that area for a kayaking company. I mentioned the experience off hand
and he immediately knew the island (Whose name I have forgotten. I'll
ask my brother and post an edit).
By Tam Mc Tavish
Source: Quora
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