What Really Happened to My Father

No one believed what happened to my father, even after that famous YouTuber went missing for a week in the same stretch of woods, but Dad was the first to be taken. My father and I had decided to go camping to help celebrate his promotion at work. He was a seasoned camper, but I was relatively new to it all.
We spent most of the day riding our dirt bikes through a few of the trails toward the bottom of the mountain, but when the sun started to set, we decided to make camp for the night. We set up our tents and I gathered some firewood with Dad. We got a pretty decent sized fire burning before eating dinner and toasting some marshmallows.
When the sun was completely gone, I was genuinely afraid of how many stars there were. Being from the city meant I was only used to seeing a few stars in the night sky, but out there, away from civilization, it was as if I could see the entire galaxy, and it was unsettling. Further putting me on edge, the sounds of the various nocturnal insects buzzing and chirping was a lot louder than back home. There weren’t any howling wolves, but there was the occasional owl hoot. The trees even groaned a little, swaying in the gentle breeze that blew between them.
Dad decided it would be fun to tell a ghost story, and for one of the stories, he had to act out a scene. He stood beside a tree, but as he acted out the scene, I noticed something was carved into the bark.
“What do you think that is?” I asked, standing and pointing at the symbols.
He frowned a little, disappointed I wasn’t very interested in his ghost story. He turned his attention to where I was pointing and continued to frown.
“I’m not sure. I kind of noticed it before, but I guess my brain automatically assumed it was just one of those "Jack-loves-Jane" messages kids like to carve into trees.”
He leaned down a little and stood in a way that allowed the light from the fire to flicker off the tree. I followed suit. The symbols had been organized into a diamond pattern, carved a few inches deep into the bark.
“Hmm, and it looks like a tool was used to carve this,” Dad said, running his finger along the inside of one of the larger symbols. It’s extremely—” Dad jerked his hand back and sucked on the tip of his finger. He chuckled a little. “Well, I was going to say smooth, but it cut me, so I guess I’m a little wrong.”
As Dad spoke, the insects stopped buzzing and chirping, the owls stopped hooting, and the gentle breeze that blew through the trees turned into a strong gust. The wind blew some dust into both of our eyes, and we tried to clear them with the back of our hands.
We went back to the fire and sat down, but Dad didn’t stop rubbing his eyes. We didn’t speak for a few minutes, but when Dad stopped rubbing and looked at me, I gasped and almost scooted back.
“I, I can’t see,” he said, blinking a few more times.
“Your eyes—” I started, pointing at him.
I had expected his eyes to be a little red from irritation, but instead, both of his eyes were black now. At first, I thought they were gone, but as he moved them around trying to look at things, I could tell they were still there, just completely devoid of color.
“Dad, I think we need to go to the hospital or something. Your eyes are completely black, like they’re covered in soot.”
“That would make sense, I guess. Maybe that gust of wind blew some into my eyes. I can’t see a thing.”
“Okay, here, I’ll help you,” I started, standing up and moving toward him.
I grabbed his arms and helped him to his feet. My mind raced with possibilities when it came to getting help. Since we rode separate dirt bikes to the campground, there was no way he’d be able to ride without vision. It was possible we could walk the bikes out and I could guide him, but that would take forever.
“Dad, maybe we can walk the bikes out? I can help you so you don’t run into anything. Does that—” but before I could finish, I glanced at the tree with the symbols and was petrified.
There on the bark, about a foot above the symbols, was a set of eyes, glaring at us. There were no eyelids, just two eyeballs wedged into the bark as if someone had carved out two holes and pushed them in.
“What, what is it?” Dad said, bending down to rub his leg. “Why did you stop?”
But it took me a minute or so to formulate a response. I took a few steps back and pulled him with me, and the gaze of the eyes followed us.
“There are eyes on the tree,” I whispered, as if the eyes would hear me and get angry.
“What? Like potato eyes? Like the little white things that sprout on potatoes?”
Before I could answer, Dad winced and dropped to the ground. He started rubbing his leg even more and I lifted up his pant leg. Sure enough, like his eyes, his leg was pitch black, including the hair that would normally have been brown.
I looked at the tree again and to my horror, I saw that it now had a leg toward the base of the trunk. I looked at the eyes again, and though it was hard to confirm due to the low lighting and distance, I swore they were my father’s eyes. But instead of being filled with love and compassion like my father’s usually were, these eyes were devoid of emotion, just staring at me like a spooky wooden doll.
Dad started rubbing his other leg and I stood up, stepping back. I felt guilty about it later, but my thoughts shifted toward personal preservation as I questioned whether whatever was happening to him was contagious. He started rubbing his torso and his arms, and a few seconds later, the tree took on those body parts as well.
“No, no, no—” I started saying as Dad started rubbing at his face and scalp.
Then he stopped moving, becoming a completely black, motionless figure beside the campfire. My heart was racing a mile a minute as I looked at the tree. Embedded in the trunk was the image of my father, complete with his face which was now twisted into a morbid grin.
I shook what used to be my father a few times just in case, never taking my eyes off the tree. When he gave no response, I grabbed the keys to both bikes and hopped on mine. I didn’t care about our camping supplies or bother putting out the fire. Instead, I turned the key in the ignition, sighing in relief when it started.
Movement on the tree caught my eye, and I watched in terror as the embedded body strained against the bark. It pulled most of itself out, only connected at its back by a few twigs and bits of bark for a while before finally breaking free. It never blinked, glaring at me and smirking.
When it took a step forward, I twisted back the throttle and sped off, daring a glance every second or so but happy I’d taken both keys so it at least couldn’t pursue me on the bike. I almost biffed it a few times, but managed to make it back to the main road, and then back to my house a couple of hours later. It was the middle of the night, but I banged on the door until Mom opened up.
She brought me inside and calmed me down enough for me to try and formulate what I had just witnessed. I tried explaining exactly what happened, but it was too farfetched for her to believe. She kept shaking her head and saying I was in shock, asking why I had left my father at the campsite.
A firm knock at the front door pulled both of our attentions, and Mom opened it. There at the threshold was the beast from the forest that had assumed my father’s identity. It didn’t say a word, but Mom fell on it, embracing it as if she hadn’t seen her husband in years. It locked eyes with me and my heart nearly beat its way out of my chest.
I tried to convince Mom that Dad was dead and the thing that had come home that night was a monster with unknown intentions, but she refused to listen. I even managed to take the cops up to the campsite the next morning, but Dad’s body was gone. The symbols were still carved into the tree, but now there was an additional symbol above the others.
Since the cops found nothing and Mom refused to believe me, I had no choice but to move out. A few others have gone missing, and I know they were taken by the same creature, and one day I’ll figure out a way to fight them. Until then, the best thing I can do is spread awareness.
Category:Beings
Category:Disappearances