This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/DivineAnime1 on 2024-11-22 20:57:17+00:00.

Camping always felt like freedom to me. No deadlines, no distractions, just the serenity of nature. That’s why I agreed when my friends Ben and Emily suggested we camp in that forest. Yeah, we’d heard the stories about the “Watcher,” but we laughed them off. Urban legends, you know?

The first day was perfect. We hiked through beautiful trails, set up our tent by a lake, and roasted marshmallows by the fire. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest changed. The cheerful birdsong was replaced by an oppressive silence.

We tried to lighten the mood around the fire. Ben joked about the Watcher. “What’s he gonna do? Stare at us menacingly?”

The laughter stopped when we heard the growl.

It was low, guttural, and came from somewhere just beyond the firelight. Ben grabbed his flashlight and swept it across the trees. Nothing. “Probably just an animal,” he muttered, but his voice wavered.

We decided to call it a night, but sleep didn’t come easy. I lay in my tent, staring at the nylon ceiling, when I heard it: footsteps. They were slow, deliberate, circling the campsite.

“Ben?” I whispered. No answer.

The steps stopped outside my tent. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure it would give me away. I held my breath, waiting for… I don’t know what. Then, after what felt like forever, the steps moved away.

The next morning, we all admitted we’d heard something. Emily swore she heard whispers. Ben said he saw someone watching us from the trees. I wanted to leave, but Ben insisted we stay. Pride, maybe.

That night, the Watcher came.

We were sitting around the fire when he stepped into the light. A man if you could call him that. He was tall, impossibly thin, with hollow eyes that gleamed in the firelight. His smile was the worst part, jagged and too wide for his face.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t blink, either. He just stood there, swaying slightly, his head tilted to one side like a curious predator studying its prey. The firelight flickered over his skin, which looked waxy, almost translucent. I could see veins snaking under the surface, pulsing faintly. His clothes were tattered, hanging off his gaunt frame like rags. But it was his hands that made my stomach churn long, skeletal fingers that twitched and flexed, as though they were trying to decide which one of us to grab first.

Ben’s flashlight beam wavered as he shone it directly at the man. The light hit his face, and I wish it hadn’t. His eyes weren’t just hollow they were wrong. Empty sockets that should have been filled with darkness instead gleamed with an unnatural, milky light that seemed to move, swirling like smoke trapped in glass.

“Stay back!” Ben barked, his voice trembling. He stood, clutching a stick from the fire like a weapon.

The man or whatever he was didn’t react. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Slowly, his smile widened, stretching his face inhumanly, as if the corners of his mouth were being pulled by invisible hooks. The fire sputtered, dimming, and for a moment I thought it was going out entirely. The shadows around him seemed to grow darker, thicker, as if they were alive.

Emily whimpered beside me, clutching my arm. I could feel her nails digging into my skin, but I didn’t dare move. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I was frozen, pinned in place by the weight of his gaze.

And then he moved.

It wasn’t a normal movement. His body jerked forward in a series of unnatural spasms, like a marionette being yanked by its strings. One moment he was at the edge of the firelight; the next, he was standing right in front of Ben. I didn’t even see him cross the distance. He just… appeared.

Ben swung the burning stick, but the man caught it effortlessly. His fingers didn’t flinch as the flames licked at his hand. The stick crumbled into ash in his grasp, and Ben stumbled backward, tripping over a log.

“What do you want?” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The man’s head snapped toward me, too fast, like a bird noticing a sudden movement. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then, slowly, he raised one long, bony finger and pointed at me. My heart stopped.

His hand lingered there for what felt like an eternity before he turned it, pointing at Emily, then Ben. One by one, he pointed at each of us, as if marking us in some way. His smile never faltered.

And then he did something I’ll never forget. He leaned down, impossibly low, his face inches from Ben’s, and took a deep, shuddering breath. It was as if he were inhaling Ben’s very presence, drawing something out of him. When he straightened, Ben looked pale, his eyes wide and unfocused, like he’d just seen the end of the world.

This thing stepped back, his movements unnervingly smooth now, as if the earlier jerking spasms had been a facade. He looked at each of us one last time, his hollow eyes gleaming brighter for a brief moment. Then, without a sound, he turned and walked backward into the forest.

Not walked, exactly. He melted into the shadows. One moment he was there, his jagged smile still visible in the dying firelight, and the next, he was gone. The darkness swallowed him whole.

For several minutes, none of us spoke. We just sat there, staring at the spot where he’d vanished. The fire crackled weakly, struggling to stay alive. Ben was the first to move, his trembling hands fumbling to grab his pack.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, his voice hollow.

None of us argued. We packed in silence, too terrified to speak. As we hiked back toward the trailhead, the forest felt different. Every tree seemed to lean closer, every rustling leaf sounded like footsteps. I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see that jagged smile staring back at me.

We didn’t see him again, but as we reached the car, we found something waiting for us. On the hood was a pile of small bones, arranged in a perfect circle. At the center lay Ben’s flashlight ,the one he swore he’d been holding when we packed up.

We drove away without looking back, but even now, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still watching. Waiting…