Alone in the Forest

We were the last people left in the campsite. The more I thought about that, the more petrified I was to hear just the faintest noise from outside. My sleep was broken and when I did awake, I swore it was because I heard something.

I stilled my breathing and waited. The impeccable silence was only broken by my stuttered breath. Then there it was, like static. Rhythmic in its nature until it became louder and louder, until the sounds of footsteps on gravel circled the tent. I placed my arm on my sleeping wife, her chest calmly contracting and expanding from the peace of sleep. I was glad I was not alone.

The footsteps stopped.

Then the almost imperceptible sound of the zip being opened, slowly as to avoid suspicion. I wanted to scream. But instead, I pulled the thick duvet over my head and crawled into a ball. The muffled sound of the zip slowed, its pattern broken by further footsteps, then the sound of the zip returning.

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