Curse of the Nightfall

In three days-time, the Catholic’s customary holy week is approaching. There will be a 3-day class vacation, and of course, we planned to have a camping night-out on the riverside. The river is wide and the scenery is apt for camping as its solitary in the night with no residence around, remote and it’s a local tourist spot. We sometimes come here with my family for camping especially on previous years in summer to experience nature in its purity. We invited Roland to come. Friends and other schoolmates are with us.

We embark to go. 6 of us all in all. We hike. It took us 10-kilometers through the forested region before we reach the site. This is a different trail than the one with a rough road. We choose to go to the upper stream where legitimate hikers and mountaineers prefer as the remoteness and terrain is good for technically a worthwhile hiking endeavour.

We finally reach it as the sun is warm in its pinnacle where the sky is clear. It’s a blessed day of fine weather as I’m drench in sweat with a bag pack. We are lagging behind with Lorraine, a nursing student as well as we are chatting on the way and realized, we are far behind.

Well we reach it. 4 boys and 2 girls. We set camp.

At night, the bonfire is set and we are concentric on it drinking beer and some roasted pork meat. Singing hymns, telling stories—spooky stories and urban legends, not realizing that the night is indeed made to be spooky. Behind us is a forest with the trees like giant elves and the light and shadow play along with the gust of wind is a perfect platform to hide the lurking evil. It sorts of forming myriad of images that seem to be haunting evil especially as spiced-up with frightening stories we are conveying over the campfire.

‘Don’t worry guys, it isn’t yet full moon. The mystery killer isn’t up for its hunting season.’, somebody retorts.

Brrr… I almost forget, the mystery killer indeed. But yes, its not yet full moon. The guitar is so pleasing as it plays along the rushing sound of the river, the tree swaying and gracefulness of the wind, the night sound in its majestic proportion to our hearts’ satisfaction, our joy, our spirited-nature to be alive is quite perfectionism in rather a good sense. The anti-thesis though is it would be a plight of horror for me as tonight is a traumatized night as I experienced to be almost a victim of Roland’s sexual appetite.

Detaching myself from Stephen’s clingy hands, I don’t notice Roland’s malicious envy as his eyes traces me as I proceed to a hideout. I need to defecate. I think I overeat as the commodities for food are mostly roasted meat, and it’s my favourite beside the fact that the beer is tempting. It sorts of spoils my stomach.

I proceed carefully to the forest where the moonlight lacks the means to penetrate. Oh well, spooky stories like the ones on the campfire give me the goose bumps but then, the call of nature is stronger. I position myself behind a tree then express myself rectally.

A sound. Breaking dry twigs. I become alert. Somebody is here. I train myself to the dimness of the night and trace a figure approaching in cat walk, yet another twigs break. In a rush of emotion, I ask who it is, yet the discernible figure stand close and he is wearing a black ski mask which in lightning speed cover my mouth with something moist. I feel dizzy and collapsing. The moist material is a sedative. I don’t know what happens next but I feel the perpetrator carries me deeper in the woods. Of course, this is Roland. He intends to rape and maybe kills me but in a twist of fate, it didn’t materialize.

Lorraine is there, too as she notices something wrong. Before Roland accomplishes his sexual aspiration, a hard-wooden object strikes him on his head and he topples down realizing a failed attempt he scurries away like a rat. Lorraine stoop down for me, ‘Marie? Oh god, your unconscious’, she realizes then opts to alarm the boys in the camp she yells and yells, ‘Help!’

‘Did you hear that?’, Mario is stretching to hear it more clearly. ‘Somebody needs help, let’s go guys.’

The interlacing yellowish light of flashlights trace on the distress call, ‘where are you?’, they found us as I was still unconscious. Stephen carries me back as he is incessantly extracting an answer, ‘What happened?’.

Lorraine is frank. ‘Somebody tries to rape her.’

‘Who?’

Of course, it was Roland but they are not privy to know as nobody of the boys can be suspect. Their presence around defeats the idea of a suspect. They conclude, somebody is around and its quite dangerous to remain there. That night they decide to leave.

We opt to report it to the police.

A foiled camping treat, likewise a foiled rape attempt, I decided to stay home for the whole day. Tomorrow, its school time again.