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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/OprahWindFury42069 on 2024-10-23 00:33:55+00:00.
I didn't expect my camping trip to be the nightmare that it was. My high school friend Mark and I have had this tradition of hiking up and camping at Mount Alto in our old hometown since we both turned eighteen. It was a bit of a hassle to plan it every year now that we were adults and had to work around our jobs, but we always pulled it off. We both thought this visit was the most needed out of all of them though.
Three months ago, Mark's mother succumbed to the cancer that was eating away at her pancreas, and just a few weeks ago my live-in girlfriend Andrea and I decided not only did our ship sail, but it crashed on the rocks. I moved back home with my dad as it was Andrea's apartment I was staying in, and Mark also moved back in with his father in his time of grief, since he was an only child and there was no one else to be around him.
It had been a while since our last discussion about it, but we were finally able to pack all of our camping gear into Mark's truck and head down the old dirt road that led to the mountain. I can still feel the refreshing breeze of the hot summer air on my face as we rolled down the windows and Mark lowered the volume of the 90s grunge rock music blaring from the truck radio to flash me a grin.
"We made it, just a few more minutes and we'll be at Camp Shangri-la. You did remember to bring toilet paper this time, right?" He chuckled, his southern accent adding to the light-heartedness of the moment as he jokingly slapped my thigh. I let out a groan and shot him a playful smirk in return, tired of hearing the same old joke.
"Four years ago, man, four years. You're not going to let me live down the whole poison ivy incident, huh?" I jokingly echoed his playful pat on the leg. "I'll make you a deal, buddy. I'll hide the toilet paper this time. That way, you can experience what it's like to have a swollen, blistering, asscrack."
We both shared a laugh and carried on with our banter, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the recent turmoil between my girlfriend and me. It had only been a few weeks since everything happened, and I knew that healing would take time. The wound in my heart was still fresh, and the shock of it all lingered in my mind. We had been inseparable, crazy about each other. Six years back, we were just two carefree youngsters who crossed paths at a dive bar during a friend's gig. A few coffee dates later, and sparks flew between us. She was the one person who truly got me, and we had a seamless companionship. But when an unexpected pregnancy led to a heartbreaking miscarriage, everything changed. Grief wedged its way between us, causing a gradual drift. I couldn't pinpoint blame on either of us, but the shared loss acted as a silent barrier, pushing us apart.
I glanced over at Mark, his gaze fixed on the rough dirt road ahead as we ascended the familiar hill. His thoughts, however, seemed to have drifted back to the music playing on the radio, evidenced by his off-key singing. As I observed him, I couldn't help but admire his ability to push aside any emotional turmoil, even if it was just for a weekend. The pain of losing a girlfriend paled in comparison to the devastating loss of his mother, who had been a beacon of love and support not just for him, but for all his friends who visited their home. I remember a time from our childhood when we were both twelve years old and faced a bully at school; while my parents were unable to intervene due to work commitments, Mark's mother fearlessly confronted the issue with the school administration on our behalf.
However, fate was cruel, and within a short period after being diagnosed with cancer, she succumbed to the illness, leaving a void in their family that could never be filled. The cancer had snatched away a truly remarkable soul. As I dwelled on these memories, lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that Mark had brought the truck to a stop, silencing the engine.
"We've arrived, dude," he exclaimed, his grin spreading from ear to ear. Tossing his sandy blonde locks back from his face, he retrieved some of the smaller camping bags from the backseat. I gazed out the window, unfastening my seatbelt, feeling a wave of peace wash over me as I took in the forested area on my right. This was our sanctuary, our escape from the world. Stepping out of the car, I planted a foot on the pine cone and bark-strewn ground, immediately greeted by the symphony of birdsong and the sweet scent of nature. A sense of serenity enveloped me as I surveyed the woods that now surrounded us. Over by the flatbed of the truck, I could hear Mark grunting as he struggled with our larger bags, tossing them to the ground. I glanced back at him, seeing him haul out the massive bag containing our tent.
"Hey, Mark, I'm gonna take a little walk around here while we're here and take a leak. I'll lend a hand in a bit," I called out, already making my way towards a tree to do so.
"Sure thing" I heard Mark call out as I strode down the gentle slope into the forest. "Take it all in and let it all out," he added with a chuckle, amused by his own words. I couldn't help but grin at his usual antics, shaking my head as I continued, enjoying the crackling of twigs and pine needles under my boots. Reaching the base of the hill, I sought out a tree away from our campsite and began to relieve myself. Suddenly, a sound pricked my ears, a faint gasping coming from the nearby creek. It sounded like something struggling to catch their breath but trying to remain silent. Hastily finishing up, I zipped up my pants and cautiously made my way toward the source of the noise.
I could sense that the sound was coming from behind a large rock near the creek bed. However, as I approached, the noise surprisingly grew fainter instead of louder. Upon closer inspection, I discovered the tragic scene before me - a young fawn, mutilated and gasping for air. The deer's wide eyes held a look of fear and desperation as it struggled for breath. The lower half of its body was completely missing, with its entrails scattered on the ground and attracting flies. The remaining top half of the fawn bore small, bloody circular wounds that seemed to be from some sort of sharp object. Feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, I called out for Mark. Even though I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horrific sight, I could hear the sound of Mark racing down the hill towards me.
"What the fuck?" Mark exclaimed as he stood beside me, his voice trembling as he gazed at the gruesome sight before us.
"What should we do?" I struggled to articulate, a wave of nausea washing over me as I observed the unfortunate creature. Mark scanned the area and located a hefty rock, lifting it above his head.
"We need to end its suffering," he gruffly declared, "you might want to turn away." I averted my gaze from the injured animal for the first time, and the sound of the rock Mark wielded striking the deer echoed through the air, putting an end to its agony.
"Jesus!" Mark's exclamation startled me, prompting me to gaze back at the gruesome sight. Instead of a deer's head, all that remained was a flattened mass of flesh, teeth, and brains, with bright purple wriggling worms squirming within the brain tissue. These chubby purple creatures were nestled in the brain matter of the once-vibrant animal, moving their hairy, gelatinous bodies in a dance like they were at a party or in the throes of merriment.
"What in the hell are those?" I shouted, taken aback by the unnerving sight of the worms. Mark stood there, wide-eyed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I don't know. Perhaps some kind of parasite? I've heard that deer can contract a parasite that devours their brain, causing them to behave strangely," Mark mused. I turned away, unable to stomach the grotesque scene, and vomited, but Mark continued to talk as if oblivious to my distress. "As for what may have happened, it could have been wolves. Not a bear, though. We don't have those in this area," he remarked, finally noticing my vomiting and offering a comforting pat on the back. "I've made some progress with setting up the tent. Why don't you take a walk and gather firewood while I finish up? It might help you get some fresh air."
I nodded, still hunched over and wiping away the drool from my mouth. "Yeah, sure," I managed to say through a few more coughs. After ensuring that nothing else was going to come out of my stomach, I forced myself to move away. The nauseating sensation continued to permeate my body, my face flushing with heat and my stomach threatening to empty itself again. My arms felt heavy, and I had to will my legs to keep moving. It was like wading through thick water.
I couldn't deny Mark's suggestion about those strange purple worms, but they were unlike anything I had ever encountered before. My knowledge of parasites was limited, but it just felt unnatural for something so repulsive and hairy to exist. Mark, being a veterinarian's assistant, had a good understanding of animals.
I recall visiting the clinic one day to have a lunch break with Mark. He introduced me to the doctor he had been assisting, and as soon as Mark spotted me, he hurriedly led me past the waiting room filled with people and their sick pets. We entered the doctor's office, where he introduced us to Doctor Albright. While Doctor Albright seemed friendly enough, the sight of a jar on his desk containing a dog's heart infested with heartworms was quite unsettlin...
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