Remains of Missing Camper

I recently found a fragment of an old newspaper in the store rooms of my college.


Interested, I followed it up by trying to find more information out, and from the camera only one photo was recoverable from the film.

But even more interesting, I managed to get my hands on a copy of the diary the man kept, and i’ll try to give a transcript of the noteworthy parts.

Note: Asterisked words are unreadable

8/1/84 Got to Cardigan Mountain without a hitch, shame Mike got sick, he would have really liked this place. Set up tent and everything, and the weather’s good, I think i’ll have a wander around nearby, I think i’m all alone here so my stuff should be safe.

8/2/84 Had a lovely rest last night, though I think those **** I ate may be a little off, had a strange dream involving this forest and wandering around weirdly, it was pretty vivid but I can’t describe much else about it. Today I moved the camp close to a nice brook, the sounds of it was quite calming. Took some more photos today, I hope they turn out alright.

8/3/84 Had another weird dream last night, but I **** up halfway through and the moon was out, the wind was still and I swear I heard someone moving about. But a quick look with my flashlight and all I could see was trees, though a trick of the light made it look like one was ***ing slightly in the distance, hah, how silly. It was a little foggy that night though, which was a bit strange. Today I found a really big, strange tree with this ***** marking on it, i’ll try to get a sketch as well as a photo, I may have to come back here if it doesn’t turn out well. [Note: Below is a rough scan of the sketch, it had a hard time getting in there and the water damage made it awkward. The photo he supposedly took was not able to be recovered from the damaged film.]

8/4/84 Found this **** late yesterday, decided to ***** in **** since the fog had *****red and I didn’t want to be ****. Had really ***** dream last *****, the fog descended upon the ****m itself and a ****** stepped through it ***** the ****. I am **** worried because I ***** tracks leading into *** cave, they were strange, ****** slender and k**d of like but *** quite shoeprints, **** blank though. Something ***** different, as I explore the forest further, the fog hasn’t gone and it seems colder and taller and spookier.

8/5/84 I can barely sleep, I thought I *** someone yesterday, afar in the fog, man in a suit wandering out here of all places. I ran ****** him shouting greetings as I was starting to get creeped out and lost in the trees, but **** lonely. But I lost him as he disappeared into the fog he came from, I decided to get out of here from that point and kept going what I remember being westwards although the compass wasn’t pointing it as west anymore. I kept going but I didn’t get anywhere, just more and **** trees, am I still in Cardigan Mountain?

8/6/84 Today upon awakening I ***** a huge tree, deciding to climb it to see if I can find a way out of here I climbed to the very top. All that I could see were trees in every direction and fog, fog and trees, trees *** fog. The dreams were still there last ***** but I don’t want to write about them in case they start to make sense. Something smells wrong about here, like ***** but worse, much worse. [Note: The following pages after this point are largely destroyed by water, or being torn out or smudged beyond legibility, occasional scant sketches of shapes changed by water damage litter it but I don’t want to try to scan these as they look fragile and I don’t want to do any more damage to this diary. There is one final entry beyond them, the script he is writing them in has changed hugely, almost but not quite as if someone else is writing them, some of his style still remains.]

??/??/?? I don’t know how long I have been here for, why won’t he let me leave. My food supplies ran out weeks(???) ago, but I keep finding berries or mishapen fish lying in stagnant pools. All there is here is forest and him. I wonder if I let myself starve, would I win? Would he want me to do that? I don’t know anymore.

I think I hear him coming, I don’t feel like fighting or running or chasing anymore. I will lie down and await the peace of death, perhaps I will find repose then. Perhaps I will find home.

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