I blinked, running my palm along my neck, realizing the decaying creature was nowhere near and I hadn't taken a step at all. I shook my head, confused at what I had just experienced. Or what I thought I did. The camera still in my shaky hand, I finally put my eye to the lens, staring at the page and the path toward it and scanning for the monster I sensed lurked the fog.

What was I to do? Standing around in the dark forest would end in disaster, and if the bite from the creature was a prediction or sign of what could happen if I sprinted, running wasn't an option either.

I had to be smart and not end up dead or disfigured like many characters in horror stories because of their dumb decisions. Or worse, because of the writer's need to make their characters suffer.

I would have to go around the tree, take a different angle, and make sure the creature didn't see me. Or... a dog playing fetch came to mind.

I tucked the notebook under my arm and crouched to feel the ground for a random stick. It wasn't difficult to find the good-sized piece of wood which I threw in the opposite direction of the paper, off to the side and away from the tree.

Just as predicted, the dark figure rushed through the haze and after the stick like a vicious hound. Now was my chance. I sprinted toward the tree. One foot hit the ground after the other. With the camera in my grasp and the notebook under my armpit, I ran to the letter and grabbed the note with my free hand. I continued running past the tree and far away from the figure just in case it honored the rules of fetch and return with the stick.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that scenario wasn't in action, and sure enough, a dark figure appeared behind me. It stood where I had been standing. The fog swirled around the rope-bounded creature. From head to toe, thick ropes squeezed its body, applying immense pressure that made the soft parts of its flesh seep through the gaps. Its head bent and twisted, snapping at the neck and its jaw unhinged with a silent scream.

Ropes emerged from its body and stretched toward me. When I turned to run, my foot snagged a fallen branch, and I hit the ground. The impact knocked the camera and notebook from my arms.

Just like a horror movie, instead of getting back on my feet, I spun on the ground, anticipating the creature hovering over me or its ropes slithering along the uneven ground to tie me up. But only the swirl of fog was visible in the air before that too dissipated in the gentle breeze like smoke.

What happened? I couldn't put my head around what was going on and why they appeared to attack me before vanishing. Did it have something to do with me dropping the camera and notebook? Or maybe because of the papers I had collected?

I wasn't sure, but I didn't have the urge to test it. Getting out of the forest and going home remained my top priority. Although home wasn't too appealing. It, like the forest, contained too many dark, lonely, haunting moments, but it also had safety. And I needed safe.

Atem's car seemed safe too, but there was no way of knowing how to get back to it. Was I destined to wander the forest aimlessly and alone? What if I were to roam the dark, lonely, haunting forests for eternity, looking for companionship, hope, and love?

I couldn't help but think that this was exactly the thoughts Clay must have had before deciding to leave on his own accord. Why did it feel familiar? Was that the intention of the apparition, to urge me to stay forever, to join Clay eternally? If so, why fight it? After all, I've longed to be with Clay again.

If this experience was any sign of an afterlife, it is far beyond the peaceful, happy place I envisioned.

I gathered my belongings and continued walking, mostly in a straight line, hoping to find the edge of the forest, or a familiar street or location. I could've been walking in circles, but it didn't matter, anyway. Out of breath, thirsty, exhausted, and miserable, walking kept my mind from horrific things.

It wasn't until I glanced at the camera that I saw a light flashing in the distance. A steady white beam caught my attention. And just like the paper tacked on the tree, I followed it. I moved as quietly as I could to get closer to the light, alerting no one or anything of my presence.

The more I walked, the closer I got, and it became easier to make out a figure. A silhouette before the light, limping as it waved its arms, that very well could have been ropes waiting to grab me and string me up in a tree.

How likely would it be to see Atem alive, well, and waving me over after watching him get dragged into the darkness?

Finally, I could make out the dirt road ahead and the rounded clearing with a dead and cold fire pit in the center, but mostly Atem's battered car parked next to the junk we had left behind.

A wave of joy washed over me seeing the familiar, but a flood of fright overcame me, knowing a figure with a light stood in our camp. And it wanted my attention, luring me like a deep-sea creature so it could clamp its jaws around me.

I used the camera to get a better look at the figure but couldn't make out any detail with the light shining toward me, distorting the image in the camera's lens. However, there was no mistaking the voice.

"Ima?" Atem called from the clearing. His voice was full of fear and uncertainty. "Ima Jean? Is that you? Please be you."

My heart skipped a beat. Was it true? Was that really Atem alive and well? Or an elaborate trick? I needed to know for sure.

I lifted the camera. "I will break this camera over the top of your skull if you're fucking with me."

"No, no. Don't do that," he answered. "That camera is really expensive. It's me Ima. And I'm not fucking with you. I swear. I'm so glad you're okay."

I glared, not yet sure if my eyes and ears were deceiving me. "I'm tired and thirsty. Won't you come closer so I can get a better look at you?"

He hesitated. "My leg, Ima. Come to me. You know I shattered my leg." The way he leaned to one side, as if all of his weight was on one leg, made sense. He even held onto the open driver's side door frame for support.

"But they took you." I shook my head, still doubting. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"They did," he nodded. "I got away. Here!" He tossed a bottle of water. "If you're thirsty, drink."

I caught the bottle with both hands. "Right," I mumbled as I lay the notebook down on the edge of the road and placed the camera on top so the weight would secure the papers inside.

I cracked open the water and put it to my lips, jerking it back when I smelled urine. I tossed it aside. "You must think I'm crazy." I picked up my important items. "That's piss. Atem wouldn't give me a bottle of piss to drink."

I turned to head back into the forest as he called out, "Ima, wait! It is me. I was testing to make sure it was really you."

I pivoted to get a good look at him. He looked and acted like Atem and had more words and explanations than the other figures ever had when talking to me. "Oh, my god. Atem?" My heart rate increased with excitement. I wasn't alone. I had found my best friend.

"Ima." His smile shined even brighter than his light. "I'm so glad it's you. I've seen so much crazy stuff out here. It's hard to know who or what to trust."

I rushed to the car, tossing the items inside and ran into his open arms. He smelled like the Atem I recently held, a faint musk of urine, sweat and dirt. His build resembled Atem too. His strong arms wrapped around me, mostly holding on for balance. He even winced as we twisted slightly from excitement. "How did you get here with a broken leg?"

He held the other camera, using its light to bring attention to his soiled and shredded clothes. "I crawled." He pointed toward the opposite end of the wood, near the old, crumbled ranger station. "Those beings with the ropes tied me to the trees. I was hanging there for a while, hallucinating, imagining my parents mocking me, begging me to join them. I knew it wasn't my parents. They wouldn't do that to me. They loved me."

As I listened to the pain and heartbreak in his voice, I nodded, feeling the heat of tears run down my cheeks. "You're right. Your parents wouldn't do that to you. Just like Clay wouldn't do this to me." I gulped and swiped away the moisture on my cheeks with my knuckles. "Maybe the trick to getting out of this place is to collect theses sheets of paper." I flipped through the notebook to show him the loose pages I collected.

"Are those letters from Clay?" He nodded toward my notebook. "Are they all the same?"

"On the outside, to the naked eye, they all look like Clay's letter, but when you read them using the camera, it shows an entirely different message. Short and cryptic, but each signed by a different person, you, Felicity, Zeke, and Clay."

"You read them?" He cocked his head. "And your nose didn't bleed, or you didn't pass out?"

"Exactly." I stared at the camera in his hand. "Isn't that interesting? If I use the camera, it doesn't affect me. Crazy, huh?"

"What's crazy is that reading the notebook affects you at all." He brought his palm to his head. "I think I need to sit down. I'm not feeling so well." He maneuvered to sit at the edge of the driver's seat.

"You're not looking so good either." I noted his clammy, pale skin and the dark rings around his tired eyes. Like me, the ropes injured and bruised his wrists and forearms. Scratches littered the exposed parts of his thighs and knees. "Let me look at your leg."

I tried to lift what remained of his pants leg, but the swelling wouldn't allow the fabric to stretch over it. He just hissed and groaned in pain.

"Just rip the fabric," he suggested.

I took the material at the seam, using a tear that existed near the knee of his pants. The fabric tore as I split it down the length of the leg. He aimed his camera and its light to get a better view and immediately I knew it wasn't good.

"Oh no, Atem." The leg had doubled in size and took on a deep purple and blue shade. It tempted me to remove his shoe, but I decided against it as to not cause more damage. "This isn't good. I think you're bleeding on the inside."

"It hurts so bad." He groaned. "I tried everything to keep my mind off of it, but the longer I stay here, the worse the pain gets."

I put my finger up in eagerness. "I brought pain killers in my pack. Hold on, I'll find them."

"Here." He handed me the camera. "You need the light. Hurry."

I took the camera and allowed it to light my way to the packs and items we had scattered around the campsite. The car was only ten feet away from my bag, so I quickly sat the camera down, angled the light, and overturned the bag onto the ground, spewing the contents.

There, in the small plastic baggie, were the white tablets of over-the-counter painkiller. I scooped a few out, grabbed a bottle of water from the ice chest, and rushed back to Atem. The light was enough to illuminate our immediate vicinity, so I left the camera where it was.

The lid to the bottle of water cracked when I opened it. I tossed the cap in the backseat out of habit. "Here, take these."

He swallowed the tablets and the entire bottle of water in a few large gulps. I did the same, relinquishing my thirst.

"We need to figure out what to do with these sheets of paper I collected." I stared at the notebook. "I know collecting them was just part of the puzzle. Now I gotta figure out the rest."

"What did they say?" Atem relaxed back against the seat, breathing steadily, as if trying to keep his mind off his pain.

"The one from Felicity said, 'Please believe me.' The one signed by Zeke said, 'Communicate to me.' Yours said, 'Don't leave me,' and Clay's said, 'Come find me.'"

"Weird." Atem huffed, nearly sobbing as his breath came out in a tremble. "You know I didn't write that, don't you? And I doubt Felicity and Zeke wrote the ones with their names, either."

"Obviously." I tossed the empty water bottle into the backseat. "I figured as much. Something about the text is leading me somewhere, right?"

"Looks like it's leading you to Clay." Atem nodded. "Come find me? Are you supposed to give him the letters?"

"That makes little sense, though." I huffed in frustration and from exhaustion. "I mean, what would he want with the letters?"

"Analyze the words," Atem went on. "Zeke didn't tell you about him messing around with Felicity, yet his paper asks you to communicate with him."

I nodded, putting the pieces together. "Felicity's paper asked me to believe her, referring to what happened with her accident? To believe that she's sorry, that she didn't mean to do it?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. The sweat on his forehead beaded into large droplets before streaming down his face. "Maybe Clay wants you to find him. Maybe it has something to do with your intention you set."

"I was face-to-face with his ghost, and he only attacked me," I said. "My intention was to find answers. To know if he was somewhere on the other side watching me and rooting for me. That thing was not Clay. This place only showed me hell and horror and nothing else."

"This all started from that notebook," Atem pointed out. "You are that notebook, your ideas, your intentions, your thoughts, hopes, fears. That notebook is bringing all those things to life."

"Are you admitting that you're not the main character of this story?"

"That's more than obvious now." He sighed, chest visibly rising and falling. "The notebook. You need to get rid of it."

I sneered. "You just said that notebook is me. Why would I destroy it?"

"It caused all this, didn't it?" Atem didn't move as he spoke, looking like it zapped all his energy, which it probably did. "I mean, I may have been wrong about the protagonist, but you can agree that I'm the smart one, yes? So, trust me."

I smacked my lips, taking offense. "I can't get rid of my notebook." My fingers gripped it tight. "This is everything. We came on this trip because of this. What's in this notebook is why I wanted to do the ceremony. This notebook... is me. I must protect it at all costs." When he shook his head, I added, "That outline saved us."

"You can't even read from it anymore," he pointed out. "Isn't that a sign that it's no longer working with you but against you? Get rid of it."

I tucked the notebook back under my armpit, squeezing it tightly. "Never."

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