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The night grew darker as the sparks from the fire danced with the rising smoke. Each of us had a story to tell, and one was to be the scariest, most frightening story that could possibly be imagined. These few moments before an unfortunate circumstance were ingrained into my mind, and I remember each word, each pause and inflection in their voices. We had decided to flip a coin to give the order in which we would present our tales. Tazu was to go first, followed by Usala, then Redd, and since this trip was for me to relax, they saved my spot for last to have me take my time with formulating the perfect ghost story.

Tazu started, and he leaned into the glow, making his bleached fur reminiscent of the sunset not too long ago. His low, near-gravelly voice was unsettling in this situation.

"So, this story starts with a man in the distant future. He usually has several servants wait on him for his every desire though most of his were extravagant and luxurious when compared to the poor and deprived common people. Now, every day he walked through a mystical garden where upon touching the first rose grown, he absorbed magical, near godlike powers. He used these powers regularly to control mankind."

"Are you telling a science fiction or a fantasy story?" Usala interrupted.

"Are you asking a question or just annoying me? It can be both, Holter. Shut up, or you won't get to hear how it ends."

Usala pouted in her collapsible chair, arms crossed and tongue stuck out. Tazu ignored her and continued.

"As I was saying, the man controlled humanity to his will, receiving many different treasures from around the world for his choosing. He ate lavishly, each meal a feast fit for a king, but he only finished one plate before sending the rest to be thrown away and incinerated. One day, the people wanted to revolt against the man, so they snuck into his garden and snatched the rose from under him. Then, they used their new power to rip the man's flesh clean off his bones! The man found himself in excruciating pain and was dying amongst his servants. The servants rejoiced, but the man was not done yet. He grabbed each servant and rebel he could with what power he had left and dragged them into Hell with him! Since then, the harrowing screams of the undead haunt the man's palace, trying so desperately to escape the realm of torture!"

When Tazu finished his story, his calm demeanor struck me as very creepy and unsettling, but once he grew (though just slightly) more enthusiastic, I found myself enjoying the story aside from the ending. I started clapping quietly while Tazu glared at me.

"Aren't you terrified?"

"Not really," I replied, "but good job though."

"Yeah, whatever. Just wait until the government starts doing the same thing, and then tell me if that story's not scary, all right?"

"Sure thing. Usala, your turn."

Usala prepped herself by cleaning her glasses for the twenty-eighth time and reached into the bag next to her for a flashlight. She shone the flashlight straight up, casting a rather clichéd shadow over her muzzle.

"All right, kiddies," she spoke in a quick and higher-pitched tone, "Let me tell you about the story of a mouse. A mouse by the name of Dolores. She walked up into a house in the abandoned part of town. Wooooo, scaryyyy! She looked through the windows, all cracked and dusty, and decided to enter the house for reasons unknown to this day. Some say she was too curious for her own good. Some say she was dragged in. I say...that she was possessed!"

Usala waved her arms frantically and twiddled her fingers while screaming into the night sky. The flashlight's glow moved so rapidly, it might have put us into a trance where it not for the gibberish she spouted. All of us backed away from her, thinking she had finally gone insane. Her body seized and convulsed for a few seconds before she sat up with a toothy grin.

"Her body flew through the rotten wood door, and inside the house, she stepped on the creaking floorboards." She formed a creeeeak sound. "She looked at her phone and within the reflection of the bright lights pouring out of the window, a shadowy figure leapt out of the screen and beat her senseless, breaking her leg and tearing her ears in half before Dolores's mangled body was consumed by the dark creature and given its final resting place trapped in that house for good!"

Usala panted out the last few words.

"The next day, a group of children travelled to this very house and on one of the spikes of the metal gate laid her head, dead-eyed and bloodied. Well, that's my story. Any questions?"

I shivered and trembled at how she "performed" her story that I just had to ask.

"Did you pack any medication?"

"No, silly," she laughed. "It's just how I like to showcase my storytelling skills. You should know by now."

"You never went that far."

"I'll give you that."

She giggled a bit, and her back straightened like a wooden board.

"Redd, you're next," Tazu said nonchalantly. "Don't mess this up."

"I know, Taz."

Redd gave a slight smirk while Tazu hissed at her, his sharpened teeth bared in a savage scowl.

"For the last time, stop calling me Taz or I'll set fire to your fucking tent, and you'll sleep with the fucking fishes!" His eyes grew calm and icy rather quickly as his tone simmered down. "Your call."

It was always weird to see Tazu so quick to change moods. Shortly before our trip, Tazu was arguing with his parents about his look, and they implored that he change clothes and take a shower. Tazu threatened to strip down to his underwear and use the garden hose in front of the neighborhood. Needless to say, Tazu got the last laugh though he was still a bit filthy from the party the night before. Then, when he got in the car, he snapped from anger to his usual calm and content behavior. That wasn't the first time, and this wasn't the last time.

Redd had no patience for him but otherwise conceded and started her fable in a soft, and in retrospect, heightened, voice.

"Have you ever heard of the Behemoth of Briardale? Today comes a story from the rumors and ancient news articles from the early 2000s. In the small town of Briardale, Connecticut, several reports of beast sightings in the forest caught the attention of the chief of a secret agency located in the underground of the city. The chief sent one of his most hard-working men to hunt down and kill the beast to reduce the panic and paranoia set in the people. After hours of trekking, the man took out his shotgun upon seeing a vague shadow in the distance. He carefully took aim but the shadow turned and ran towards him at full speed, knocking him onto his back. The amorphous creature slobbered and bled over the man. His muzzle was covered in the gross substances until it dried, shutting his mouth closed. The man, unable to scream for help, was launched into the town by the beast, and suffered a fatal shot in the torso when a few citizens mistook him for the beast. He died on the ground below, his muzzle still shut."

Hearing a story like that strangely put a smile on my face, partly because I was going next.

"Whoa. That was awesome!" Usala exclaimed.

"Nice one, Schafer," Tazu said.

"Thanks so much," Redd said. "I just made it up on the spot."

"You certainly have a knack for improv," I added.

"Thanks, Ike. Well, you're the last one, so what kind of scary story are you gonna tell us?"

I tried to come up with a satisfying story to end the night when I noticed the fire had slowly shrunk to the size of an apple.

"First things first. I'm gonna head into the woods for some more firewood. I shall be back faster than you can recite the first one hundred digits of pi. And no cheating, Usala."

She quickly hid her smartphone in her pocket, and the skin under her short, cream-colored coat blushed a bright pink. I stood from my chair and searched around the campsite for some firewood but came up empty-handed. Then, it was time for me to leave the site and explore.

I treaded through the waves of grass and old leaves from the autumn season last year. Though it was quite dark, I focused all of my mental energy into taking every detail of the forest. The branches from the younger saplings looked quite frail, and the leaves on some of the trees were already a pale yellow-green color. An anthill the size of my closed fist placed something like a shield around itself that I stepped around to avoid being bitten. The chirps of crickets and the whoosh of winds were the only noise in an otherwise silent and creepy night. Not one dead branch laid on the ground.

After what seemed like ten minutes out in the woods, I knew I had to turn back. I stopped dead in my tracks, my tail tingling and flicking furiously. The hollers of a nearby campsite reminded me of the three hikers from before, and on a closer listen, each of their distinct voices rang true in my ears.

"Rocky, it's them!" Shadow shouted.

"Slightly, take aim."

Gunshots whizzed by my head as I dashed away and ducked behind a couple of bushes. My heart rate was exceptionally high but weak. I tried holding my breath to avoid being heard, but I nearly passed out from the hypoxia. Each footstep on the leaves behind me transmitted an uncomfortable alarm blaring inside my head, wanting me to take the next chance I get and run.

The crinkle grew softer and softer. My unbridled curiosity forced me to glance through the bushes, and the three were gone. Making my way through the forest again to convince everyone to leave as soon as possible, I tripped over a root. I couldn't put my arms out in time and landed right on my muzzle. The cartilage bruised upon hitting the solid ground. I pushed myself to my feet and rubbed my nose. I looked down to where the root was, and discovered that it wasn't a root at all, but some kind of metal box. Later, it would be known as the box that started it all.