When friends are telling campfire stories, there seems to be an unspoken rule for each camper to make their story even scarier than the last. So thereâs no surprise when we take a look at a circle of four friends sitting at a campfire in the middle of the desert youâd pass through on a cross-America trip doing just that, just like the four this story focuses on. They that sat on rocks around the fire theyâd made, laughing.
âAlright, alright,â the youngest one, Mike, said. He was the newest to this group, but the others were still quick to refer to him as one of their best friends. âThat one was fine, but I think Iâve got one. A good one. I tell this one to everyone I meet at one point or another. Itâs called âThe Walkinâ Man.ââ The man on his right, Ian, put his hands up in a fake âOh, have mercyâ gesture. âOh, sounds real scary,â he said, and they all laughed. Mike just grinned. Ian has always been the first to take the piss out of them, so he wasnât remotely offended. âOk, letâs hear it Mike,â the man sitting across from him, Alan, said. When he spoke the other three men quieted down. Alan was at least two years older than all of them, and heâd sort of been appointed leader of the pack. When he spoke, they listened. He seemed to know what was what usually, and so he was the beacon of advice for relationships, jobs, and everything like that. The one that came to him the most sat on Mikeâs left, Jess. Jess was timid and had a very active imagination, and stuck with Alan often. He was terrified of the stories theyâd been telling, but he didnât want to show it. Mike waited until there was complete silence except for the snapping and crackling of the fire, then began his tale.
âFor hundreds of years, there are stories of a man who does nothing but travel around America. Many believe heâs an immortal being, as everyone whoâs seen him describe him the same way. Never aging. Theyâll see a man as normal as anyone else, standing alone in some place in the wilderness. Heâll wait until heâs all alone with a group of campers after making his way into their circle of trust, and then he attacks. No oneâs ever had an actual experience with the Walkinâ Man and survived. They say he died on an exploration of the West in the early eighteen hundreds after eating his dead crew to survive, and his ghost has been haunting ever since, murdering the unfortunate campers to walk near his trail. And the thing is he could be anyone. They say he pretends to not know the story of the Walkinâ Man, and if someone brings it up at a camp heâs at... theyâre the first to go. Yet others say he always tells it the night before a kill. Again, no one really knows. Another way to spot him is that he doesnât sleep in a tent. People say he always pretends to sleep under the stars, so he can always see the heaven where the souls of the other members of his exploration party are to remind himself of what he did. And when the Walkinâ Man sets his sights on someone, theyâre as good as done. Heâll wait days, weeks, months to strike. You canât outrun the Walkinâ Man.â as he finished his story a twig in the fire snapped, and everyone jumped. Alan got to his feet and began to put out the fire, saying âWow! Good story, Mike! Now, I think itâs time for bed. Weâll continue our trail in the morning,â everyone murmured agreement. Ian went to his tent and dragged out his sleeping bag, saying âI donât know about all of you, but the sky is too beautiful to sleep in a tent tonight.â When everyone had their bags outside, Jess soon heard Mikeâs snoring and Ian, dead silent. Alan lay next to Jess in his own bag, waiting to fall asleep until he heard Jessâ quiet voice.
âAlan?â
âYes?â
âYou... you donât think thatâs real, do you? A man hunting and murdering campers?â Jess couldnât see Alan smile.
âOf course not. You know, Iâve never even heard of that âWalking Manâ before. Go to sleep,â he said, and before long Jess could hear Alanâs steady breathing. âThatâs all it is,â he thought. âJust a campfire story.â He heard Mike roll over in his bag. Just a campfire story.
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