Countdown to Halloween: Creepypasta Edition

Twenty-Eight: My Son Brought Something Home From The Woods

My husband and I always wanted our son to be adventurous. We wanted to watch him grow up asking questions about everything, seeking out answers, and looking for adventure. It seems like whenever parents have a deep desire for how they want their children to be, their children instinctively know and go the complete opposite direction.

As Sam grew up, he became very introverted and would actively ask when it was time for bed. He loved to sleep, and our doctor gave a lot of explanations. All the illnesses had been checked and crossed out before he said "I think he just likes to get away from reality. He likes his dreams more than he enjoys life." This was at the age of eight.

This actually depressed us as parents. What could be so wrong, so uninteresting about his life that he would come home and just sleep?

The doctor recommended that we plan family activities that were geared towards him as a way to engage him in life. "Give him something to be excited about after school."

So, for our very first trip, we decided we would go on a hike. The mountains were about an hour away, and we considered this a mild introduction to our new family habit. When we told Sam where we were going, he was ecstatic. We knew then that hiking had been the right activity.

On Saturday, we threw together some backpacks, lunch, water, and even a magnifying glass so Sam could inspect everything closely. He was so excited the entire way there. We were all thrilled.

When we parked at the trailhead, Sam leapt out of the car and almost ran up the trail without us. I had to call him back so we could keep an eye on him.

The hike was short, maybe half a mile, but Sam tried to run it like a marathon. We kept calling for him to come back and check out this bird, or this butterfly, or the log that looked like a grandpa's face. He would come and look to humor us, but then run ahead.

Eventually, we gave up trying to point things out and let him just run through the woods. We were pleased that he had taken so well to the trip. For once, Charlie and I felt like we knew what we were doing as parents. Anyone who's a parent knows how that feels.

We got to the end of the trail and ate our lunch. We were at a ledge along the mountain that was more like a hill. The sun was high overhead and we could see over the trees for miles. Sam quickly downed his lunch and we let him run off into the trees.

"Not too far," I warned him. He obeyed, and we could always see him. From the rock where we sat, I watched Sam while Charlie went to the bathroom. I watched Sam pick up sticks, swing them at bushes and tree trunks until the stick broke, then pick up another one. He picked one up that was too short to be swung, but he smiled wide at it and ran around with it in front of him, using both hands.

Finally, he ran over to me and said "Mom! Feel this stick! It feels so cool!"

"Oh yeah?" I grinned, taking the stick from him. It was in the shape of a Y, and when I grabbed one of the sides of the Y, it was perfectly smooth. It looked like someone had taken a knife and whittled a bigger branch down into this smooth, sling-shot shaped stick. The two sides of the Y were curved, almost like bicycle handlebars.

"That's very smooth!" I said to encourage him. He looked at me funny, then ran back into the woods to keep playing.

We packed up lunch, stuffed everything back in the backpacks, and announced that we were ready to hike back. Sam came back without a fuss, and we began walking down the trail.

Instead of running ahead, Sam lagged behind, still clutching the Y stick. He held it in front of him with both hands as before, and was swinging it around slowly, as if it were a magnifying glass and he were searching for something.