I’m not going to scream, I told myself although panic shot through my body like a jolt of lightning.

My heart pounded. My throat tightened. I peered intensely in every direction but there was no sign of the Comfort Station and no sign of my tent.

It’s so dark.

Without thinking, I began stumbling through the woods, my arms outstretched, my eyes wide. I stopped and stared but could see nothing.

I’m not going to scream. I’m not going to scream.

I began running in another direction. Branches scraped my face and tugged at my flannel pyjama bottoms. I pushed them aside. My breath came in gasps.

How did I get myself in this situation?

It started with mosquitoes in the tent; relentless, droning, loud, then quiet, then loud again, as if someone was playing with the volume control.

Stupid mosquitoes, I thought. They’re really bugging me.

My hands groped the gritty tent floor for my iPod.

If I listen to some music, it’ll take my mind off the mosquitoes.

I felt around the edges of the tent. Nothing.

This is stupid. I need a flashlight.

I wiggled out of the tangled sleeping bag. I felt sweaty and frustrated. I couldn’t wait for the weekend to be over. I remade my bed and straightened out my stuff but my iPod didn’t turn up. No sign of a flashlight either. I felt the tent floor again and found a bottle of mosquito repellent.
I gave myself a good spritz.

Great, now I smell like a lemon meringue pie.

Scrambling through the woods a lingering waft of citron hit my nose. I pushed aside a branch wet with dew.
​
Random thoughts bounced around my mind. I remembered hearing Dave, my new step-father, snoring like a jack hammer through the thin wall of our tent.

He should get that fixed, I remembered thinking at the time.

Dave, “Mr. Outdoorsy”, made the worst campfire chili I’d ever tasted. It was mushy, brown and tasteless.

Why did my mother have to fall in love with a camper?

Then mom’s big genuine smile flashed across my mind—duh—dumb question.

At least he married Mom and he’s sticking around. Not like my real dad who just disappeared.

I remembered sitting behind Dave on the drive up to Algonquin Park. “Did you know that bug spray will remove tree sap?” he was saying over his shoulder.

“Fascinating, Dave,” I said.

“Mary Elizabeth”, mom said quietly. She saw me roll my eyes and gave me a warning look.

“Always keep a clean campsite,” Dave went on. “Burn all food scraps and even the dishwater goes into the fire so you don’t attract wild animals.”

But I was only half listening. I was trapped in the back seat of our station wagon next to a pile of khaki camping junk that filled the entire back end of the car. Camping advice was the last thing on my mind.

Where did I put my iPod? I wondered, glancing around the car.

“Wolves—now they’re the worst,” Dave said. “They hunt in packs. But generally, wild animals will stay away if you have a fire burning. Need a pee-break, M.E.?” he asked as he pulled into the Lake of Two Rivers General Store.

Without answering I jumped out of the car, slammed the door behind me and headed straight into the building.

I look terrible, I thought glancing in the bathroom mirror.

I was the first back at the car. It gave me the chance to dig through the camping equipment.

Tent pegs, pots, rubber boots, pack of batteries, food box, flashlight, air mattress pump thingy…ah-ha! I found my iPod.

Now I won’t have to listen to any more of Dave’s boring outdoor survival tips.

Hours later in the tent, there I was once again searching for that dumb iPod when I realized that I really needed to go to the bathroom but, of course, couldn’t find a flashlight either.

I thought about waking up my mom so I could borrow hers but I hadn’t spoken to her since our big blow out at the campfire. I knew I was wrong but I wasn’t about to wake up my mom to apologize just so I could borrow her flashlight.

Instead, I pulled on my hoodie, unzipped the tent and peered into the blackness in the direction of the park Comfort Station.

Then I spotted a glow between the trees.

That must be the Comfort Station, I thought and headed in that direction.

In the clearing of our campsite, I could only see a few feet in front of me by the light of the moon. The ground was fairly level and strewn with pine needles but when I passed between some trees I tripped on a root. After that, I walked with my arms held out in front of me.

As I got closer to the glow, I could see that it was definitely not the Comfort Station. The light was moving. It was a cloud of many tiny twinkling lights hovering between the trees.

Fireflies!

If I’d had a glass jar I would have tried to capture some. I remembered the “Lightning Bug” presentation that someone at school made last year. The light they produced had something to do with a chemical reaction that occurs in specialized light-emitting organs on their abdomens; but for me, they were magical. They reminded me of pictures of glowing fairies in the fairy tale books my mom used to read to me.

When I was little, the Tooth Fairy used to leave a loonie under my pillow and a tiny note written in a spindly, miniscule script. The Tooth Fairy’s note was always very polite and formal. It would talk about what she did with the teeth and it always included a map of our backyard and directions for a scavenger hunt. One of the notes said that fireflies kept the Tooth Fairy’s home lit up at night.

I loved those notes and saved them in a shoebox I kept under my bed along with the loonies and some baby pictures. Fireflies were the only kind of insect I’ve ever really been able to tolerate.
​
Surrounded by them, I tried to catch one in my hand but each time I reached for one its light went out and it disappeared. I tried a few more times to catch one but it was no good.

Gradually I realized that the cloud of fireflies was thinning out. Soon, only a handful flashed their little lights.

I looked back in the direction I had come. It was inky black and unfamiliar. Without realizing it, I’d followed the cloud deeper into the woods.

No! No, no, no, no, no!

I stood in complete darkness with no tent and no Comfort Station in sight. I had no idea from which direction I had come. I was utterly and profoundly lost.

 

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End of Chapter One of

The Haunting of M.E., a ghost story

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