The following short story is by Diana De Lucas, the winner of our Halloween Camping Trip contest with the best scary camping story:

I know most people think of scary stories as having terrifying killers or inhuman monsters, but my scariest camping story happened while I was alone. I had always enjoyed my family’s camping trips to Blackwood Forest when I was a kid. They sadly came to an end after my parents’ divorce when I was 11. I didn’t go camping again until college, when it was really just a convenient excuse for me and my friends to party together.

About 7 years ago in the middle of the summer, I’d just gotten ghosted by a girl I’d been seeing for 6 months, and I was in a pretty bad place. There was nothing my friends and family could say or do to make me feel better. I just wanted to be alone and away from everything. One night, I packed up some gear and drove to Blackwood Forest. I hiked out to the spot that served as my family’s favorite campsite for many years. It was the only place I felt at ease.

This wasn’t the first time I’d gone camping alone, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There are a lot of eerie sounds and shadowy figures that move around in the dark, but they’re usually from pretty mundane sources. Most of the animals that live in the forest get curious when people are around, but they rarely have the courage to approach a campsite. This night was different though. I can’t explain it, but I could feel something’s eyes watching me with more than a passing interest.

When I first got to the campsite, I pitched my tent and started a campfire. I spent the last few hours of daylight sitting by the river, sketching the scenery in my sketchpad. Drawing always calmed me down, and it helped me to forget about my recent heartache for a little while. Once it got dark, I heated up the food I’d brought with me and listened to the crickets and cicadas vie for aural dominance.

It was around 11:30 when I decided to go to sleep. Since I wanted to be alone, I had switched my phone off after reaching the campsite. My old glow-in-the-dark Pokémon wristwatch was the only reason I knew the time. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard something rustling outside my tent. That was pretty normal, so I didn’t think much of it. Then I felt something tap my shoulder. That was definitely not normal.

My eyes shot open and I flailed around looking for my flashlight. By the time I switched it on and swept the beam of light across my tent, nothing was there. I know you can sometimes imagine sights, sounds, and sensations when you’re stuck between being awake and asleep, so I chalked it up to that and laid back down. This time, though, I hugged my flashlight close to me like I used to do with my old teddy bear.

It took me over an hour to finally fall asleep. I can’t remember what I dreamt about, but I know I was violently torn from it by a bone-chilling shriek. It sounded like it had come from right next to me. I bolted upright and stayed as quiet as possible. I was now wide awake as I listened closely to the sounds of the forest. I was too scared to turn on my flashlight again, as I didn’t want whatever was outside my tent to know I was awake.

Twigs and leaves crunched beneath the footsteps of something much heavier than a squirrel or a deer. It circled my tent like a lion waiting for the right moment to pounce on its prey. I was still clutching my flashlight, as it was the only thing I could think of to use to defend myself. Even then, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be much help against whatever was stalking me.

The footsteps suddenly stopped. I couldn’t hear a single thing outside. The entire forest seemed to have gone deathly silent, as if holding its breath alongside me. I don’t know how much time went by, since I didn’t dare to light up my watch in order to look. I was sure that whatever was there would attack at any moment.

I just sat in my tent, quaking with fear until the sun brought an end to my terrifying vigil. With the forest now cast in light, I took a chance to check outside my tent. The tension gripping my body finally released when I looked around to find nothing but the familiar woods surrounding me. Whoever or whatever was there during the night had disappeared. However, it occurred to me that I never heard them walk away.

As I was packing up my gear to head home, I noticed footprints in the dirt. They circled the spot where my tent had been multiple times, yet I couldn’t find any leading to or from that spot. What I did find was an old brass locket in the shape of a heart just sitting on the ground out in the open. I knew for a fact it hadn’t been there the day before. It had the initials “H.C.S.” etched on the front. When I opened it up, there was a yellowed picture of a young woman on one side and a young man on the other.

After I got back home from my solo camping trip, I did some research on the locket. I took it to a friend who has an antique shop, and she said it seemed to be from the mid-19th century. I spent hours upon hours in the town archives at the library, searching for anything with a name that matched the initials on the locket. Just when I was ready to give up, I found a page from the 1860 census with the name Helena Charlotte Spencer.

With renewed vigor, I hunted for any information I could find about Helena. The internet made this part of my investigation much easier. I discovered that Helena had been set to marry a man named Jacob Harrison, but she never made it to the altar. Her lifeless body was found in Blackwood Forest by the river on the eve of her wedding day. The authorities believed she had been strangled to death, but nobody was ever charged for the crime.

At this point, I’m sure you’ve drawn a similar conclusion to my own about what happened that night at the campsite. My best guess is that I heard Helena’s ghostly cry as her spirit relived her murder. I wish I could say I was able to find out who killed her and put her soul to rest, but I have no idea who the murderer could be. Jacob apparently had an airtight alibi, and the info I was able to find online didn’t list any other potential suspects.

So that’s my scary camping story. It might seem tame compared to the other submissions you’ve received, but it absolutely terrified me. The strange thing is that it didn’t put me off going camping. I’ve gone many times since, both alone and with other people, but I’ve never had anything like that happen again. I would love to go on this trip on Halloween with Mr. Fitzgerald and the contest winners. I think a small part of me hopes for another encounter with Helena’s spirit. I couldn’t solve her murder, but I’d like her to know that she hasn’t been forgotten.

-Diana De Lucas, Halloween Camping Trip Contest Winner