Josh had always been the adventurous type, drawn to the wild and uncharted corners of the world. The dense forests of Kalkaska, Michigan, with its towering pines and whispering winds, had long been on his list. The stories he’d heard about Bigfoot were just that—stories. But as he packed up his gear on a crisp autumn morning, he felt a surge of excitement mingled with the slightest hint of trepidation.

He arrived at the campgrounds by noon, the sun filtering through the leaves, casting intricate shadows on the ground. Setting up his tent near a babbling brook, he took a moment to listen to the symphony of nature—the chattering of squirrels, the croak of distant frogs, and the rustle of the leaves. After a light lunch, he decided to explore the trails.

As he hiked deeper into the woods, the sun began to descend, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. Josh felt invigorated, but as twilight descended, a chill crept into the air. He turned back toward his campsite, eager to settle in for the night. The woods, once vibrant, now seemed to whisper secrets he couldn’t discern.

That night, he built a small fire, its flickering light banishing shadows as he cooked a simple meal. Under the stars, he told himself ghost stories, but the laughter caught in his throat as the winds picked up, carrying strange rustling sounds from the...