Camping for Morons ✓

00 : NOW

My head is pounding. It feels like there are a thousand hammering drums in my head that will never end. My throat is parched and every time I try to swallow it's like I'm eating sandpaper. It's not the hefty fire that crackles and pops ominously before me or the weird shrieking noise that's getting louder and closer with each passing second or even the fact that my once long black hair that fell to my elbows has been cut so it now barely brushes past my jawline. No, the thing that catches my attention first and foremost is the fact that my back is against a pole and my arms and legs have been tied securely to it with a rope.

"Peryn," says a raspy voice belonging to my best friend.

I look over at her, her once long blonde hair has been hacked away too, leaving a badly cut bob and like me she's been tied to a long metal pole.

"Hi, Per," she stares at me with wide eyes, "Can...you...Can you hear the birds singing?"

"Are you still hopped up on those berries?" I ask, she giggles and I frown.

"Oh wow, the night is...so pretty," she giggles again, her head swaying a little.

She's tied between her brother and his best friend who've also been fixed to the poles. They're both unconscious, I start praying for them to wake up soon.

"Wait," she says all starry-eyed, "can you see them?"

"See what?"

"The fairies," she whispers, "they're so pretty!"

Fear has fully settled in, clawing away at me as I see the dark figures of our captors coming closer and closer. How the hell did this happen? This was supposed to be a pleasant and peaceful camping trip. We were supposed to be spending five days camping in the wilds surrounded by nature, not five days of running for our lives from a crazy bear, rabid wolves and almost dying in a lake. How did it turn into such a horror fest? I'm exhausted, I'm hungry, my clothes are ripped and dirty, I have bruises in places I didn't even know you could get bruises, I haven't slept for forty-eight hours, and I'm pretty sure that angry bear is still stalking us.

"Oh my God," I breathe, frantically trying to undo the ropes but no matter how I hard I try they won't come off. It's no use, they've really knotted it tightly. It's beginning to cut the circulation in my hands and legs.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulls me out of my thoughts. The flickering light of the fire makes the duo look even more sinister. They step into the light of the fire and my jaw drops when I realise who the creepy pair are.

"You!" I gasp as I stare wide eyed at them, "you bastards!"

The pair are wearing long white robes and a lot of wooden jewelry. I take in the long sticks they're carrying, the hats that look like – what I hope aren't real – deer skulls and the white swirling lines drawn onto their faces. This should bother me, this should really worry me but I've seen and done so many weird things these past few days that nothing seems to faze me anymore. This, I realize with horror, has become normality.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" I ask, "You need help! Who does this?"

"Be quiet!" She snaps.

"This evening!" The short, chubby man screeches as he raises the stick in the air, "this evening your bodies and souls shall be sacrificed to the great moon spirit above!"

I'm starting to think that maybe this camping trip was a bad idea after all.

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