The Hungry

You won't believe my story… our story. As I’m writing this I know I should have more to leave behind, I should have a videotape or some sort of picture, but all I have is these words. It’s been two days since I emerged from the woods. 

Me, Elijah, Riley, and Hayden grew up together, we went to college together, and we decided to go on a camping trip together. I’m the only one left. I would cry if I could feel anything but petrifying fear. I know she… it… is coming for me. Every creak of the house, every rustle of the curtains, every dark corner makes me feel like my heart might beat out of my chest. I’ve locked every door, locked every window, and barricaded myself inside. 

My parents don’t know I’m back, but I snuck into their house and left a note in my dads safe in place of his gun. Maybe I should have said goodbye, but they would just think I was crazy, and it would put them in danger. The weight of his pistol is heavy in my hand, and the cold against my palm is almost calming. I haven’t let go since I grabbed it. I’m sitting on the floor of my closet, against the wall furthest back with my body facing the door. It’s the only room in my house that is small enough for a lamp to keep every corner lit. 

I have nothing left to do but reminisce about those nights we spent out on the trail. I have no way to mourn but to relive the experience over and over again, wondering how things could have been different. I haven’t slept much over the past few days, sometimes when I look at my hands for a moment they are still drenched in blood. When I blink my hands have returned to normal, whatever that is now. 

The trip started off great, we had marked the perfect spot along the Appalachian trail that we would hike to and camp at for a few days. I can still see Elijah the day before we left, and how excited he was as he held out that circled portion of the map. His tall goofy frame towered over the rest of us, and his messy blonde hair always looked like he just rolled out of bed. It’s not his fault. Nobody could have known that the legends held any truth to them. He loved legends and myths, and was always pushing the rest of us to explore deeper. 

Riley and Hayden were indignant to the idea of the legend, but they were thrilled about the physical location. It was supposed to be along a rough trail, and the brothers were never ones to turn down a challenge. They grabbed me and Elijah by the neck, pulling us into a sort of huddle as our eyes followed the trail we would soon be walking. We were happy and joyous, and we knew we were bound to head our separate ways as our futures called to us after graduation. Riley and Hayden had jobs lined up at their fathers financial firm in Connecticut, Elijah had been accepted into a masters program in California, and I had plans to travel to London.  

I wish I could only remember them that way, smiling ear to ear and eyes wide with excitement. The sound of our laughter is faint in my mind, and I wish I could dissolve into that memory, scream at all of us not to go. I feel myself lift my hand as if I could reach out to them, only for my mind to flood with flashes of Rylie and Hayden, their neat brown hair crusted with blood, and the desperation in Riley’s eyes as his brother’s limp body was dragged into the forest. I am holding his arm in a death grip as I try to lurch us further away, and then their screams drown out the memory of laughter. 

We should have turned back the minute we got lost on our second day in. Elijah had marked a spot on his map where an old shed supposedly was, and the legend behind it was one of nightmares. The story said that this particular shed was where the hundreds of people that went missing, hiking along this very trail, were said to have been taken and butchered. The myth said that they hadn’t just gone missing, but had been targeted and taken by those who lived along this trail, the ‘The Hungry’ as they were called. I thought it was pretty far-fetched as far as myths and legends go. I hadn’t even heard of people going missing on this trail, but the group was excited so I went along with it . We had to depart from the main trail to make it to that spot on the map. The sun was already starting to set, I should’ve stopped us, I should’ve said we should wait and look in the morning. Instead, we just kept going. This was the moment it ended, before we even knew what had begun. 

When we finally made it down there actually was a shed. Except, it wasn’t like a cabin, or even like the garage type shed that we had been picturing. It was just this small four by four little hut with a few trees lumbering around it. We poked around it a little bit, but the shed wasn’t nearly as eerie as legend and stories had made it sound, but it wasn’t until we turned around to head back to the trail and set up camp for the night that we realized it was gone. The little dirt path connecting us from the main trail down to this hut was nowhere to be found. I could feel the tension rising, but trying not to panic, I suggested that we just set up camp by the hut for the night and look for the trail in the morning.

What I remember most about the moment I woke up in the middle of the night isn’t the crack of sticks that awoke me, or the sounds of heavy breathing circling our tent. It was the smell. It was this horrible, putrid, suffocating scent that left me gagging into my hand as I tried to stay quiet. I had opened my eyes to see the others already awake, palms to their own faces with eyes wide and full of fear as they motioned for me to listen. Something was out there, and its silhouette danced across the tent in short bursts as the moon peeked from behind the clouds. Its shadow looked almost like a person, disfigured and snapping twigs with every step. It happens occasionally where someone else camping stumbles upon another group's camp site, but the smell of rot and the odd hour of the night told us there was something about this person we didn’t want to interact with. We listened in silence for what felt like hours before it had been quiet enough outside that I unzipped the tent to look. 

There was a message carved into the tree in front of us that sent a chill down my spine. 

“Found you.” 

Looking past the carving, we saw them along the treeline. The breaking moonlight illuminated their pale, scarred, and mangled bodies. Only a few yards away from where we stood, I could see the sunken sockets holding their hungry eyes, and the matted stringy hair that clung to their heads. Their ribs protruded from their abdomen, if they used to be people, they were something else now. The Hungry. 

Then we were running, branches whipped at our skin as we stumbled and propelled ourselves through the forest. I looked back as one leapt onto Hayden’s back, sinking teeth into his shoulder, hearing the crack of his skull as he fell. I had grabbed Riley’s arm, trying to drag him with me as I ran, but he ripped away from me lunging for his brother. I didn’t stop, not even when I heard his scream peirce the air. Elijah’s footsteps stayed in rhythm with mine as we continued running, covering enough ground to get back to our cars. I was a few paces in front of him, busting through the treeline and running straight for my car. Keys in the ignition, I waited, locking eyes with him as he broke through. Before he could step off the curb, three bodies enveloped him, their teeth gleaming in the darkness as they dragged him away. 

I put the car in drive, tears streaming down my face, when I looked in my rearview mirror and saw her. She stood there inhaling deeply before snapping her head towards me, horror pitted in my stomach. Her skin was so translucent I could see the blue of her veins. She lifted her mangled arm and pointed a bony finger directly at me. 

As if to say, “There's no escaping".