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 treeline. Maybe it was just an animal, he told himself, but the primal instinct to feel watched prickled at the back of his neck.

As darkness cloaked the forest, Josh crawled into his tent, pulling the zipper tight. With a book in hand, he tried to immerse himself in its pages. Yet, every sound outside made him pause. Twigs snapped—Was that too loud for a creature the size of a deer? The eerily familiar sound of heavy breathing sent hot spikes of adrenaline through him.

Feeling foolish but unable to shake the feeling of unease, he peered out through the tent’s mesh window. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on the campsite, and, for a moment, Josh believed he saw a figure lurking at the edge of the trees—massive, dark, and hunched. His heart raced; perhaps it was just a trick of the light. He blinked, and the form vanished.

Sleep eluded him as he heard the sounds of the forest shift and swirl around him. Then there were footsteps—heavy, deliberate, sounding too close for comfort. They circled his campsite, stopping just at the edge of the firelight. The crackling of the flames seemed to mask the shallow gasps he tried to stifle.

Summoning all the courage he could muster, Josh unzipped the tent and stepped outside, clutching his flashlight like a lifeline. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing nothing but the sway of branches. He shone it into the underbrush, the shadows dancing, but he saw no trace of the creature he believed had been there moments ago.

Then he heard it—an unnerving growl that reverberated in his chest, deep and guttural. Instinct kicked in, and he bolted back into the tent, zipping it tight. His breath quickened as he pressed his back against the tent wall, straining to listen. The growling intensified, accompanied by what sounded like low, mocking whistles that cut through the night air.

Suddenly, the tent jerked. Something pressed against it with tremendous weight, and he felt the fabric buckle under a force he couldn’t see. Josh froze, paralyzed by fear. The creature outside was not just an urban legend; it was real, and it was toying with him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Bolting up, he grabbed his backpack, grabbed a flashlight, and scrambled out of the tent. The creature was gone, but the forest felt alive as if it was watching him. He ran, heart pounding, desperate to put distance between himself and whatever had been stalking him.

The darkness behind him stirred. He could feel the breath of something behind him, leaving a trail of icy air in its wake. He stumbled through the underbrush, branches scratching at his skin as he pushed forward. Panic surged through him, and he didn’t know where he was running.

Finally, he burst onto a dirt path illuminated only by the pale moonlight. He raced down it, praying desperately for the safety of his car. His lungs burned, and each breath felt like fire. Behind him, he heard the sound of heavy steps, slower but more deliberate than before. The creature was now toying with him, it was playing a game of cat and mouse.

Just as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him, he reached his car, fumbling with the keys as the growl echoed closer. With a frantic gasp, he leaped inside and slammed the door, locking it with a rapid click. He turned on the ignition, the engine roaring to life. With trembling hands, he threw the gear into reverse and sped away, glancing back through the rearview mirror.

That’s when he saw it—standing tall and massive between the trees, illuminated by the car’s headlights, its eyes glowing like molten amber. It watched him leave, a primal force wrapped in shadow, fading back into the depths of the forest as he raced towards safety.

Upon returning to civilization, Josh would tell tales of what happened that night, though few believed him. They always dismissed it as just another camping story—an adventurous soul too entwined in fantasy. But in the haunted depths of Kalkaska’s woods, he knew the truth. Bigfoot was no myth. And somewhere in the shadows, it was still watching.
© Scott Maddox