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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Wild-Tea-9242 on 2024-09-30 04:59:48+00:00.
When I was a child, I had a phobia of bears. I'd say it was a pretty rational fear, actually. After all, they are massive killing machines that could easily outrun you and crush your skull in their jaws. At ten years old, I had seen a movie about a killer bear, hunting a group of people lost in the woods and picking them off one by one. My parents hadn't intended for me to see it, I just happened to witness it on my friend's television when I was over at his house one evening.
However, this fear was kept a secret by me, even when my family packed up and went on a week-long camping trip to the mountains. My twin sister and I were informed of how to stay safe as we stayed in that maze of a forest. We were to never stray too far, and never keep food in our tent, or it would attract bears. We had a can of bear mace with us, and my father was armed with a rifle he was licensed to carry. He wasn't a hunter, he was just a very cautious man whose favorite phrase was 'better safe than sorry.'
He explained to us that many dangers, animal and otherwise, could be lurking in the woods. After all, we were secluded. No nearby park rangers and friendly campers for miles. He never liked the thought of us being vulnerable, and I wasn't about to complain. Despite the security of all our precautions, I still had nightmares of waking up to a bear sniffing around outside my tent.
I slept in a small tent alone, and so did my sister, Esther. We were pretty trustworthy and independent kids, so they trusted us with our own tents while they slept in a bigger one together. We grew up sheltered from the harsh realities of life and the shocking horror movies that instilled nightmares into other children's heads; because of this, growing up we weren't as anxious of the dark or 'things that go bump in the night' as other kids. I hadn't needed a nightlight since I was three, but boy how things had changed since then.
My friend, George, had laid-back parents who let him practically do whatever he wanted, and that meant watching whatever he wanted. He had pressured me into sharing his hobby of watching horror movies, which ranged from laughable failures to terrifying masterpieces. This left an impression on me. It felt like those movies had warped my mind. Every creak in my house at night was now a possible intruder, and every shadow could have a masked serial killer using it as a cover to catch me off guard. Despite this, I enjoyed those movies with him, and like a horrible addiction I couldn't shake, I just kept coming back.
But enough of that, I would like to tell you a story that still confuses and terrifies me to this day. It started with that one family camping trip. For most of the week, it was your average vacation. We would swim in the lake nearby on a humid afternoon, we would eat sausages roasted over the fire for dinner and make s'mores for dessert. Dad told us a few cliche campfire stories and then mom would crawl into our tents and kiss us goodnight before she retired into her own.
I absolutely dreaded bedtime during camping. I dreaded when the fire would be put out, dousing us all in darkness. I dreaded when I would be the last one to fall asleep, and a lonely feeling would creep up on me. I dreaded when I had to take a leak in the middle of the night, and would crawl out of my tent with a flashlight, aiming it in all directions in a rather paranoid manner. When dawn would finally crest the mountain peaks and birds began their heavenly chorus in the treetops, a wave of relief would hit me instantly.
One night felt the longest. That day had begun typically, with a trip to the lake in our swimwear. There was a trail circling the lake and we would hike it. Our parents were laying in the sand drinking beer from the cooler, chatting with each other idly as my sister and I decided to take the short walk on the trail. The area wasn't so densely wooded, and the lake was midsized, so they could easily spot us. Esther and I were talking as we sipped from our water bottles, joking about dad's short shorts. We stumbled across the paw prints of a bear embedded in the dirt, pointing in the direction we were walking.
Esther kneeled down in front of the prints, smiling. "Bear paws! Mom said black bears are seen around here a lot. I think black bears are the cutest bears." She noticed my unease. "What's wrong? Are you scared of bears, Eli?"
"Who isn't scared of bears?" I self consciously replied, a bit more snappishly than I intended. "Let's go. They look new. It's probably still around."
Esther ignored me. I was about to yell at her, when I realized she had a perplexed look on her tanned face. She pointed at the paw prints. "Those are the back paws of a bear. You can tell because of how long they are." She stated. "I read a book about all sorts of bears and you can tell the difference between the front and back paws."
Her knowledge wasn't surprising to me. Esther was a huge fan of animals, even the dangerous, predatory ones. She wanted to be a zoologist when she grew up, and she made it known constantly. However, I wasn't interested in hearing any fun facts from her at that moment. I mean, I never was, but especially not right then.
"So what? Let's go!" I grew more and more antsy with each second that passed. I kept looking around us at the surrounding trees, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of a hulking beast with razor claws.
Esther didn't let up. She still looked confused, as if she were struggling over a very complex puzzle. Her eyes, which were a murky brown like the lake's waters, followed the trail of footprints which cut off at a bush. She stood up and brushed dirt off her knees.
"Eli," she started, her eyebrows furrowed, "there's only back paw prints. It's like he was standing up and walking on his two feet." The serious expression dissolved as she burst into laughter. "I just imagined it! It looks so funny! So cute!"
I gawked at her. A bear? Cute? I simply rolled my eyes as we returned to the lake's shore, ignoring what she'd said. We promptly told our parents of our findings but they weren't particularly concerned. We stayed there for another hour. I was swimming backwards, enjoying myself, when something caught the corner of my eye. A flash of movement on the other side of the lake.
I stood upright from my backstroke position, curious. At this point, I was relaxed, no longer worried about a bear, and I figured it could have been a wandering stag we could admire from afar. I slightly squinted my eyes, having lost sight of it among the trees' many overlapping shadows. That's when I saw a big furry arm move further behind a thick tree trunk.
My heart sank. It was definitely a bear, no other animal had such an identical appendage. The way it's arm hung down made it obvious it was in a standing position. Now, I couldn't see it, because it had hid itself completely.
Was it scared of us? That's normal, I heard. Often, the big scary animals we feared were scared of us as well, but that did little to quell my anxiety. I started to swim back to where my sister and parents were playing in the shallow end. I did not say anything yet, I just kept an eye on that side of the woods.
I was almost there when a large, furry head peeked out from behind the tree. Just as quick as it had done that, it drew back. It wasn't too quick for me to notice some pretty startling details, however. Despite the distance, I could see white in its eyes, because they were so big and gaping. Wait. Bears didn't have very noticeable whites in their eyes, did they? There was something else pretty off about its face, but I didn't look long enough to figure it out.
I explained to my family what I'd seen, and they finally agreed to leave. We got our stuff ready pretty quickly and left the lake. I can't tell you how many times I looked over my shoulder as we walked back, my hands shaky.
"Calm down, bud." My father said soothingly. "It was probably just curious. Besides, we have the mace in case it decides to bother us."
I said nothing in response. Esther held my hand reassuringly and I didn't give any reaction to that either. I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that crept up on me. I kept replaying the memory of its head poking out and staring at me with wide, oddly human-like eyes. Thinking back on it, I started to feel like something was also wrong with its snout, but still didn't know what specifically it was.
The rest of that evening before bed transpired uneventfully. I was silent for the most part, convincing myself in my head that I had imagined the creepy aspects of the bear's face. Too many horror movies will do that to you, I reasoned with myself. That's the explanation my parents would give me. They were definitely not the superstitious or spiritual type, so they could provide a rational explanation for anything.
We started preparing for bed, hanging our food up far away so the scent wouldn't attract any animals, and dousing the fire again. I made sure to take care of my business before crawling into my tent, to prevent my usual 3 AM nature calls. I settled into my covers, trying to fall asleep before everyone else. My family, as always, stayed awake in their tents for about an hour with their lanterns shining from inside. Usually, they were up reading, they were all bookworms unlike me. Despite my best efforts to fall asleep, their lamps turned off one by one before mine.
Wide awake, I stared at the roof of my baby blue ten...
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