Anna Rolinatis is a writer born and raised in Columbus, Ohio. She enjoys writing fiction, and tries her hand at writing spooky things when she feels brave enough. She’s had several satirical short plays produced, as well as a vignette published, and hopes to publish more work in the future. When she isn’t writing, she’s either walking her two dogs, painting, or dreaming of adventures. As soon as she overcomes her deep seated fear of others reading her work, she’ll create a website for you to visit.
THE WOODS
by
Anna Rolinatis
I remember feeling a deep sensation of unease inside myself when I had awoken in the morning. I’d thought that perhaps it was just normal dread; after all, I was alone in the wilderness. I’d decided for this trip to hike unaccompanied, to camp under the stars. But with only bear spray and a pocket knife to defend myself, of course I was nervous.
I’d been on the path for three days at this point. Mostly I’d felt alright. Occasionally I’d whip my head around at the sound of footsteps behind me, or I’d wake up in the middle of the night to a sound. Each time, however, there was an explanation. A fellow hiker behind me, or a raccoon poking around campsites for litter. So altogether I was enjoying my vacation. Hiking a national forest was something I’d only dreamt of, and I was doing it. I felt sure that the experience would be worth any danger I had a small chance of encountering.
Now, I’m not so certain. Like I said, this morning I remember feeling a prickly sensation of anxiety. A thread of wrong that whispered across my skin like a discordant music note. It was easy to explain away, until it wasn’t.
At first, it was just the sensation of being followed. Of looking over my shoulder and glimpsing a shadow that would dip behind boulders and weave between tree trunks. Unconsciously I picked up my pace, not noticing it until I tripped over a root and realized when I caught myself that I was panting for air. I stood, dusted my hands off on my hoodie, and surveyed my palms for any ripped skin. They were only scraped, excluding a tear along the meat of my thumb that slowly weeped crimson. I pressed the wound to my mouth and shrugged, preparing to continue trudging on. But when I raised my gaze to the path in front of me, I locked eyes with a figure.
She was about sixty feet away, facing me. I couldn’t see her very well between the trees and with the dimness of the setting sun, but I knew that she had a hand up to her face, just like me. Slowly, I lowered my arm to my side and watched as the figure across from me mirrored the action.
“Hello?” I called out.
It was like breaking a spell. The figure stretched her lips wide in a blurry grin, then turned and walked behind a tree. When she didn’t emerge from the other side, I felt an overpowering sense of disquiet. Choosing to trust the feeling, I decided not to walk in her direction to look for her but instead to cut across the path and make a wide berth around where she’d been.
It took about twenty minutes without incident afterwards before I began to relax. It was strange, but strange people were often in the woods. This was something I’d resigned myself to at the beginning of this trip. So I carried on. When I eventually spotted another group of people walking towards me, I felt comforted by their presence. It was an older couple. They waved cheerfully as they approached me, and I returned the gesture.
“Hiya!” The man called over. “How’s the path back? We’re heading home. It’s getting dark and the better half is complaining that we’ll never make it back to the ranger’s station.”
His wife elbowed him with an eye roll while he snickered.
“I think I saw a sign for the ranger’s station about a mile back.” I replied, shifting my weight on my feet. “I did see someone weird around there though, so keep an eye out.”
“Someone weird?” The guy frowned.
“Yeah,” I laughed nervously. “Some lady. She was like, copying me or something. I don’t know, I didn’t get a good look.”
Instead of laughing back like I’d expected, the couple exchanged a look and the wife huddled closer to her husband.
“Are you alone out here?” The man asked me.
“Yeah?”
“Listen. I know we’re going to sound crazy but–”
“John.” The wife interrupted, throwing her husband a meaningful glare.
“Alright, alright. Just be careful. You know the legends!” John warned.
“Legends?” I questioned, but the wife was pulling her husband away by the elbow and then they
were hurrying past me.
At this point fear thrummed in my veins distantly, like thunder rolling over hills. A low, ominous
rumble. I decided that making camp for the night would be in my best interest. I was too spooked to continue, and the sun was going down, so I set up my tent in a clearing about ten minutes from where I’d run into the family.
What legends had the man been talking about? I wondered to myself as I attempted to let sleep take me. I’d heard all sorts of stories about the woods. But nothing about strangers who mimicked you. With a shudder, I tried to stop thinking and fall asleep.
What felt like only moments later, I opened my eyes again. It was pitch black now, and I felt a terrible sensation of nausea and terror swirling within my being. Confused and panicked, I scrambled for the lamp next to me and flicked it on.
Across from me, half sitting in the same position that I was twisted into, was... me. Her hand was outstretched like mine, palm steadily pulsing blood out of the scrape on the thumb.
“What?” I managed to sputter.
Again, the air shifted as I broke the silence. Her lips– my lips– split into a familiar grin.
“What?” She parroted, reflecting my panic back at me even as her face remained eerily beaming. Then she broke out of her frozen stature, moving stiltedly like a marionette. She crept closer to
me until her identical eyes were inches from my own. I stayed rigid in horror.
“Thank you.” She whispered with my voice. “I’ve been here for so long. It’s your turn now.”