Monday, 26 August 2013


Something is following me. I think it's Melanie. I hope it's Melanie.

I fell into a fitful sleep last night; I was woken by the sound of quiet laughter. I don't know what time it happened, but it was still dark. I sat up and crawled from my tent. I was disoriented, and it was hard for me to tell which direction the sound was coming from. I stood and turned around, but I couldn't pinpoint it.

The laughter was close, and had a hysterical quality, as though the person making it had just been told some hideous truth, and their mind was in the process of cracking. I stood there listening as the laughter faded away.

When I set off in the morning, I found footprints around the camp. In the quiet, as I travelled, I kept hearing faint sounds: rustling leaves, crackling sticks, and once, a soft giggling that chilled me.

I stopped as it was getting dark, and doubled back on myself a small distance.

More prints.

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