The Wobbly Man 

There are two times a summer when you can vacation with your family at our Camp. This one week out of 52 is the reason I fell in love with the grounds and decided to work on Staff. It is the reason I have the friends that I do, and have experienced the weird and (at times) unexplainable things that I have. Honestly, I owe a lot to Family Camp.

Until this point in my life, Family Camp was a safe haven—nothing strange every happened during that week. This year, due to scheduling, Camp started on a Monday. We had a ceremonial lunch of sub sandwiches at my grandmother’s house (a tradition started when we were little by our grandfather), and hit the road around 1:45 for what we had hoped would be a pleasant break from reality. As it has been for the past three years, my nephews and niece ride with me—Jayce (7), Danielle (6) and Sebastian (4). I’ve said that by the time James can ride in a booster seat I’ll have to invest in a minivan…

The kids were boisterous on the ride down and I was quite surprised they didn’t fall asleep. They were fueled on adrenaline and Pepsi (sorry, Mom), so they eagerly watched each turn until we reached Camp’s front gate. The tradition then is to scream as loudly as you can and honk your horn repeatedly as you drive up the road—we like making an entrance.

I was excited to see so many staff waiting for me at the cabin to help unload. Their energy and anticipation for the events of the week made me excited. You never really grow up, and Camp brings out the little kid in you.

The first day was lovely—dinner, opening campfire, night activities. And towards the a.m. hours, I noticed a few of the newer staff (second years) lingering behind in the Dining Hall. “Would you like to play a game?” I asked. That was all that was needed.

We played for hours—laughing, telling stories, starting friendships—before I groggily crawled into bed. I was awakened 4 hours later by Jayce. “Johfin [he has a hard time saying Jonathan], can you take me and Dani to morning swim?”

“Jayce, it’s 7:30. I’ve been asleep for 4 hours.”

“Please?!” he begged bouncing on the end of my bed.

“Fine… I’m already putting on my shoes…”

Staff is required to be at morning swim, so I ran into Connor, PJ, and Gavin (who I had been playing games with only a short time before). They were also dragging from lack of sleep. A perfect start to the first official day of the summer!

“Do you guys want to go hiking later?” I asked, drying the lake water from my legs once the swim was over.

“Seriously?” Connor asked.

“Well, after rest period,” I said.

“I’m in, but we have the Camper vs. Staff volleyball game at three,” Gavin informed us.

“No problem,” I said. “The Staff will lose quickly and then we’ll have plenty of time to hike before dinner.”

“Oh, did you lose when you worked here?”

“Nope. Back then, the Staff always won…”

I met up with the boys shortly after my prediction came true and suggested that since we were all tired we not hike the cliffs, but down below. When you’re there for such a short period of time, you want to see all of Camp’s sights. I suggested we check out the fourth lake—one that is hidden in the back corner of the property on trails no one ever travels. It’s quite out of the way, so we’d have a nice, quiet afternoon to ourselves.

On the walk they peppered me with questions about years past—and I of course told them everything was true and factual. They questioned me about Camp legends and haunts—and I of course told them everything was true and factual. And then they asked me about the Forest of Sighs.

“The what?” I challenged Connor, perplexed.

“The Forest of Sighs,” he said. “You know, the old story about where the memorial trees were planted.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked him.

PJ cut in: “During training this year, they were telling us old Camp legends and the history about the property. Supposedly when a staff member died unexpectedly they would plant a tree in their name…”

“Well, that’s true,” I said, “You can see a few trees by the courts and down by the old PX…”

“But that’s the thing,” Gavin interrupted, “those trees are planted in accessible parts of Camp because the exact location of the Forest is unknown.”

“Unknown?”

“Yeah, after a while it was forgotten about... You’ve seriously never heard of this?”

“No, and I hate new stories being added to the Camp vernacular.”

“But, Jonathan, these stories were told to us by the Staff of the sixties! They said people stopped going to the Forest at the turn of the decade because it was too painful…” PJ stated.

“So technically, they’re not new,” Connor finished.

“Yeah, and technically you’re really bad at volleyball,” I retorted. They all chuckled at this…well, all except Connor.

“Did they tell you about where the legend for Cecil, the lake monster came from?”

“Not where it originated...”

“Well, once upon a time…” We continued in this fashion until we reached the lake. It’s not technically a lake since it’s too small; and it’s not really a pond anymore since the dam broke. Now it’s just a glorified puddle—a beautiful breeding ground for irises and mosquitoes.

“Okay, now what?” PJ asked.

“Now we go off-trail!” I said. This was a stupid idea on my part—the last time I did this I learned in a disastrous fashion that I was allergic to bees. But, that’s what happens when your camper steps on a beehive hidden in the ground.

We traveled and joked for a good while, delving deeper into the woods. The trees were growing closer together and the canopy overhead was thickening enough to darken the paths for us.

“Is it going to storm?” Gavin asked.

“Not today,” I replied looking upwards at the tree branches. “I don’t remember it ever being this thick.” To be truthful, it had been a while since I hiked back by the lake, so it is reasonably possible that the trees grew enough to cast such shade. But what wasn’t reasonably possible was walking into a little grove of trees that I had never noticed before. And I can say this quite honestly, because towering over the rest was one who had lost most of its lower branches—and in the places where they had broken and fallen, the tree’s bark had scarred into the shape of eyes. We looked in astonishment at the pattern littering the trunk of this tree not saying anything…

“What is it,” Gavin asked. “Is it a beach? They have a soft trunk; these could have been carved.”

“No, these weren’t carved,” I said. “This was done naturally.

“It’s not a pine tree,” PJ stated emphatically.

“Nature PJ to the rescue,” I taunted. Clearly it’s not a pine. It could be a beach, it’s not a tulip; but the leaves are too high up for me to tell definitively.”

Connor dropped to his knees and started ruffling around its base. I asked, “What’re you doing.”

“Maybe there’s an intact leaf here. Then you could tell what type of tree it is… Oh, here’s one…” But the greenery he pulled out wasn’t a leaf.

“What is that?” I asked, leaning in closer. He wiped the dirt onto his shorts to reveal an extremely vintage, khaki-green billed hat. Besides being dirty and a little raggedy, it was preserved rather well.

“That’s a pretty cool find,” PJ said.

“Yeah, I remember a few years back hiking around here and stumbling across a patch of old bottles. A lot dated back to the ‘60s so quite possibly this could be from then as well.”

“Here you go,” Connor said, proffering me the hat. “You’re the one who wears them anyway.” It was true; I wear hats all the time, even in the high heat of Ohio’s summers.

“Thanks” I said, taking the hat and inspecting it. “Hey, there’s something written on the inside.”

“What does it say?” Gavin asked.

“There’s a couple of numbers here. It looks like it says 1027, but I have no idea what that could mean.”

The others were confused as well.

“No matter,” I said, removing the hat I was wearing and replacing it with Connor’s find. It’s getting close to dinner, so we should probably try to find our way back to the path.”

We glimpsed back only briefly at the grove of trees encircling us, and left their parameters as the wind started to kick up. As soon as we were a few paces away, the canopy overhead thinned, the wind died down, and we found ourselves right behind the stables. We had walked for over an hour into the thickness of the woods, and in a matter of minutes found ourselves back at the edge. I found out later how odd everyone else thought this as well, but on that day we didn’t speak of it.

During dinner was when my best friend, Jake, arrived. Jake had once been my camper, then co-worker, and now we have matching tattoos and he vacations with my family. This year, though, his work schedule was a little temperamental, so he was coming to Camp when he was able.

“What’ve you been up to?” He asked, as we waited in line for the salad bar.

“I’ve just been hanging out with the Staff,” I told him.

“Making friends?”

“Interviewing your replacements.” We both laughed and moved a step closer to the bar. We heard someone yelling “Hands up” which is universal slang (ever since the movie Meatballs came out) for us to shut up immediately.

“We’re going to say the ‘Johnny Appleseed’ grace on Amen,” a Staff member instructed. I instantly took off my hat, and sang along with the rest of them. Upon finishing, I replaced my hat and took another step closer to the salad bar.

“Are you feeling ok?” Jake asked, out of the blue.

“Of course, why?”

“Because you’re looking really pale. It’s as if all the color has drained from your face.”

“No, I feel just fine,” I said as I tonged some salad onto my plate.

“If you say so…”

That night was when the fever hit. During Family Camp, a few of us choose to sleep on the screened in porch of the cabin. We push all of our beds together (creating a giant bed we call the Bungalow), and enjoy some respite from the temperamental young ones inside the cabin. The second I began to feel ill, I excused myself and retreated to my bed on the porch. Knowing that the temperature was going to drop to 57 (and, regardless of what any medical professional will tell you today), I bundled up to protect from the cold and to sweat out the fever. My energy was quickly draining and I didn’t have time to grab a more appropriate beanie, so I crawled into my bed wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, socks, and my new khaki-green hat.

My fever spiked significantly that evening, but against the wishes of my mom and cousins, I refused to go to the emergency room. “Let me die,” I told them all. “It’s cheaper to pay for my funeral than it is to pay my deductible.”

I spent the entirety of the next day in bed. My mother was kind enough to bring me back some strawberries from breakfast, which tasted delicious, but I didn’t eat much else. For the few times that I tried to get out, I found I didn’t have the strength to do much, so I went back to sleep.

I felt badly because Jake was able to be there this day and I didn’t spend any time with him. “What would you have given, years ago, when we were on Staff, to spend all day in your Camp bed?” I asked after apologizing for not being able to go on a creek hike.

“Anything,” he replied.

“Well, check this off my bucket list” I said cheekily, then laid my head back on my pillow.

At some point I dozed off and must have been sleeping heavily. Throughout the course of my fever I had rested well, but that culminated in a dream (that while I don’t understand all of it) I will never forget:

I stood, waist deep in a body of water. It was a still evening, but I wasn’t sure why my heart was racing or my breathing so heavy. In front of me I could see the lights from a town keeping the darkness at bay. Behind me stood a man I didn’t recognize—and yet at the same time, it was Connor. I’m not sure how I knew this, but I did. I wasn’t scared of him, nor him of me, and together we were wading silently to the banks.

Loudly the sky sparked with the strangest display of fireworks. The stillness of the evening was ruptured by (what I assumed) were claps of thunder, yet there was no rain. The trees rustled incessantly and I could feel the panic percolating through every vein in my body.

There was the sharpest pain I have ever felt pierce through my leg, and I found I didn’t have the ability to move or stand any longer. Down, into the water, I went. I saw the hands of the stranger/Connor reach out for me…

I woke, my clothes drenched, breathing heavily. My blankets were also wet—my fever must have broken around this time. I turned to my left, where Jake’s empty bed was (he had gone home for the night), and there, perched on his knees, was my four-year-old nephew, Sebastian, staring intently out the screened window.

I was confused; it was pitch black and didn’t know why he’d be on the porch, yet my stirring hadn’t caused him to break eye contact with whatever he was staring at.

“Sebastian? What are you looking at?” I asked quietly, conscious of the others sleeping around me.

“No one, Jon,” he replied.

“No one?” I asked, noting the strangeness of his word choice.

“I mean, nothing, Jon,” he said, standing up. And then, without glancing at me once, he waved to the black nothingness of the nighttime, opened the door to the cabin and walked to his bed.

I raised my head after he left and looked out the window. I thought I saw a shadow in the darkness, but I was tired and my eyes were probably playing tricks on me.

The next morning I was feeling ravenous since I hadn’t really eaten in a day. Sometime throughout the course of the night, my hat must have fallen under my bed. I didn’t feel like crawling underneath the Bungalow, so I put my hair up in a bun and headed to breakfast. I was still a little weak, but doing tremendously better.

I ate with my family—and slowly, as they finished, they headed back to the cabin. I stayed, eating as much as I could, sitting next to my sister-in-law, Amber, and Sebastian.

“So, Sebastian has something he wants to tell you,” she said to me once it was just the three of us.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, “What is it?”

Sebastian didn’t say anything.

“Go on, tell him,” Amber prodded, nudging my nephew. Still, he didn’t say a word. After a few minutes of silence, I turned to Amber, “What’s up?”

“Well, Sebastian has an imaginary friend. He woke me at seven and has been talking about him nonstop. I’m surprised he’s not telling you anything.”

“You have a new friend?” I asked, leaning in to Sebastian.

“Yep,” he finally responded, curtly.

“What’s his name?”

Sebastian took a long breath, looked into my eyes and whispered, “The Wobbly Man.”

“I’m sorry?” I asked, unsure of what he had just said.

“The Wobbly Man, Jon. He’s my friend!” Sebastian then startled me by jumping off the bench to throw his trash away.

“The Wobbly Man?” I asked Amber. She shrugged, “You guess is as good as mine…”

“Where did you meet your friend?” I called to Sebastian who was walking towards the garbage can.

“At Camp!” he said excitedly.

“Really?”

“Yeah! He wanted me to tell you something, Jon.”

“And what did your friend want to tell me?” I asked.

“That he sees you…”

Amber followed Sebastian out of the Dining Hall, but I stayed to clean up our table. I heard my name being called and turned—there was Gavin and PJ strolling over to me.

“You’re up and about!” Gavin said, “Are you feeling better.”

“I am,” I replied, “don’t have all of my strength back yet, so I’m taking it easy…but I don’t want to miss any more of Camp.”

“Understandable,” PJ said.

“Hey, where’s Connor?”

“Oh, he’s still in bed.”

“I sure hope I didn’t get him sick,” I sighed, “I’d feel terribly if I did.”

“No,” Gavin responded, “he just didn’t sleep well last night. Kept tossing and turning and muttering…”

“Should I take him a plate of food?” I offered, wiping down my table.

“I’m sure he’d like that! We would, but we have to get ready for age groups.”

“Not a problem!” I grabbed a plate from the kitchen. “I’ll take this to him right now.”

During Family Camp this year the male staff was assigned the cabin furthest away from the settlements. It was approximately a ten minute walk to the lake we had hiked previously, and I lamented the boys having to stay here—I did once; the bathrooms are a trek.

I gingerly opened the door. Connor rose when he saw me, exhausted.

“You’re feeling better,” he said wiping the hair from his eyes.

“I am! I brought you breakfast.”

“Thanks, I just didn’t have the energy to make it this morning. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“So I heard from Gavin and PJ. You feel okay, though?”

“Just tired. I had some strange dreams that kept me awake… Actually, you were in one…”

I handed the plate of breakfast sandwiches to him, which he accepted readily. “Did I save the world? Win the Nobel Peace Prize? Become President?”

“No,” he said quietly, “you died.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the opposite of what I was hoping for...”

“It was weird. I was wading through this lake and there was a man in front of me. It wasn’t you, but at the same time, it was.”

I felt my entire body go cold.

“And then all of a sudden the sky lit up and there was a bunch of noise. You clutched at your leg and went under the water. I dove to help, but because of how dark it was I couldn’t find you. There was such commotion all around and then I felt someone pull me out of the water, yelling ‘We have to move.’ Then I woke up. It was so vivid; the images kept playing in my head long after my eyes were open, and for some reason I just couldn’t shake it. I know, I know” he said in response to my expression, “it’s just a dream; it shouldn’t have affected me the way it did...”

“Connor,” I said breathlessly, “I had that same dream last night.”

I stayed with him for about 40 minutes, both of us trying to make sense of what we had experienced the night prior. The probability of this happening by chance is nonexistent—this is what we had the hardest time wrapping out minds around.

I retreated back to my cabin in a daze, not knowing if anyone I told would believe what Connor and I had just discussed. I was snapped out of this daze when I arrived—my bins of clothing had been strewn all over the floor.

“What?” I said aloud to no one, looking at the mess.

“I’m sorry,” Amber called, seeing me on the porch. “That was all Sebastian; I haven’t had time to pick it up yet.”

“Sebastian did this?”

“Yeah he said you had something of his?” I shook my head in puzzlement. “He’s inside if you want to talk to him…”

He was lying on his bed facing the wall. “Sebastian?” I asked. “Mama said you were digging through my clothes because I had something of yours?”

He rolled over. “Give it back,” he said sharply, gritting his teeth.

“Give what back, buddy?”

“Give. It. Back.” he said again, his voice raising.

“Sebastian, I didn’t take anything of yours!”

“I know,” he yelled. “But give it back.”

I started to stammer, and then his entire countenance changed abruptly. “I’m sorry, Jon. It’s ok, he’s gone now.”

“What on earth are you talking about? Who’s gone now?”

“The Wobbly Man. He sees you, Jon, and he’s not happy. He wants it back.”

“Fine, I’ll give it back,” I said, playing along. “You just can’t be going through my stuff, okay?”

“Okay, Jon,” he said happily, throwing back the blankets and marching over to his Legos. “Thanks!”

My family is lucky in the sense that our cabin has a full bathroom. So while Sebastian was distracted with his toys, I cleaned my clothes from around the porch and gathered my toiletries. My hair was greasy with dried sweat from the night before; all I wanted was a long hot shower.

I ended up with a short, luke-warm shower (that’s what happens when you’re living with all of your female cousins), but it was still warm enough to fog the window and mirror.

As I stepped out and made my way to the sink, my heart skipped as I looked to the mirror. Written there, plain as day, were the words: “Give it back.”

No one in the cabin fessed up to this so I tried to put it into the recesses of my mind. I had hoped to enjoy the rest of my day at Camp, but for some reason, after my shower, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone behind me. Everywhere I went, every time I was alone… I was looking over my shoulder until my cousin Alex said “You’re going to give yourself whiplash.”

Night Program that evening was a carnival and as the kids threw darts at balloons and were getting their faces painted, the wind started to pick up. Gently at first, but the breeze was noticeable. As I was watching the festivities, I felt something cold hit my head. “PJ,” I yelled, “You just got blueberry snow cone in my hair.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Legally I have to kick you off my Christmas card list for this,” I said, wiping the wetness from the back of my head.

“I was just trying to get your attention.”

“You could have called my name…”

“I did, multiple times,” he swore. “You just didn’t hear me.”

“So what’s going on, then,” I asked.

“It’s your nephew. He’s crying in the Fairy Forest.”

“Thanks,” I said, walking to the tree line. “You have six months to change my mind about that list, I called after him.

Sebastian was inconsolable when I approached. There were other Staff members trying to calm him down, to no avail.

“Buddy, what’s wrong,” I asked dropping in front of him.

“Make him go away, Jon, please,” he said.

“Who?”

“The Wobbly Man.” He whispered his name.

“I thought he was your friend?”

“Not anymore,” Sebastian said, wiping tears while trying to catch his breath. “He’s telling me to do things, Jon, bad things… he scares me.”

“Listen,” I said putting my arm around him, “the next time he scares you, you stand up real tall, look at him and say, ‘I’m not scared of you. Leave me alone.’ And if he’s still bothering you, just call for me. I’ll beat him up!”

Sebastian laughed, “Yeah, you are strong, Jon!”

“Yep, stronger than a man who wobbles!”

“Thank you.” He put his arms around me in a big hug.

“Let’s go win some tickets,” I said. “There’s a turtle at the prize table that has our name on it!”

We ended up settling for some Finding Dory pencils instead of an actual turtle, but still had fun. As the sun set and the activities died down, the kids slowly fell asleep; I wasn’t far behind.

I don’t know why I woke. Possibly it was the thunder. Regardless, there was a man standing in the doorway to the cabin. I wasn’t scared as much as curious—the frame of this person was taller than any of those living with me. It was too dark to make out any features—just the silhouette of someone, standing; watching. Then he was gone.

I remember trying to center my thoughts in the few moments after this happened but there wasn’t time. First came the thud; then the lights blared to life when Sebastian’s screams started. One by one those in the cabin woke to this sound and we all went running to his side—well, I slid into the room, tripping over the broken pieces of a cross which had fallen from the wall.

“Baby,” what’s wrong, “Amber asked, trying to soothe him; he didn’t have eyes for her.

“I told him, Jon, I told him,” Sebastian yelled in my direction.

“But he said I should be scared.” He burst into hysterical sobs as my cousins swung to face me.

I stared blankly back at each of them as his cries continued.

“Please give it back, Jon. Please.”

“Give what back,” I asked Sebastian. “What do you want me to give back?”

“His hat, Jon, it’s all he wants.”

“His hat?” I thought aloud, but this was punctuated by an even-higher pitched scream than I thought Sebastian capable of. “He’s back, he’s back…please make him go away,” he yelled, pulling the covers over his head. Then Dani started… “I see him too,” she wailed, burying her face into her mother’s side. Jayce was the only child who sat, unblinking, watching the rest of us.

Viciously, the wind that had been escalating all evening slammed open the cabin door in the midst of another scream from the children. All heads now turned to the door, except Jayce who silently looked to me. “Johfin, who’s Connor?”

“Connor?” I asked. “Counselor Connor?”

“That’s where he’s going,” Jayce replied coolly.

“Who?”

His eyes grew large. “The Wobbly Man.”

I ran to the porch and skidded under the beds as questions were being pelted at me from my anxious family members. “I’ll explain later,” I kept yelling, throwing aside suitcases and toys that had collected underneath the Bungalow. And there, right beneath where I slept, was the khaki-green hat. I grabbed this, stuffed it into my backpack and charged outside.

In my rush I took the low-road to the boys’ cabin. It’s a bit longer and much darker than had I taken the clear-cut way. As I ran, I again had the feeling that someone was behind me. I stopped, only slightly, and was proven correct. Some paces off I could see the shadow of a man, hobbling in my direction.

When the lightning turned the sky into day, the shadow disappeared. Refusing to waste any more time I darted as fast as I could to the boys’ cabin. Waiting for me, was Connor.

“He’s coming isn’t he?” Connor asked. “The Wobbly Man?”

“How do you know?” I demanded, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

“I’m not sure. I was asleep, and now I’m here,” he said, perplexed.

“Listen, it sounds stupid but I’m…”

“…Going to put the hat back?” he finished.

“Yeah,” I said, “Again, how’d…” a faint knocking at the door stopped my line of questioning. In this cabin the windows line the sides, so we had no way of knowing who was knocking.

Three soft taps. That was it.

“Maybe he…”

Three louder knocks.

We held our breath.

The pounding began as the overhead lights flickered on and then died—again, and again.

The others in the cabin were awake now. “What the hell is going on?” someone asked. “Connor, open the door,” another demanded.

The two of us looked at each other and then sprinted the length of the cabin to the back door. Punching this open, we fled into the night.

We raced to the lake and then off-trail into the woods. Neither of us knew exactly where to go, so we followed the route we had taken a few days earlier (to the best of our recollection). We didn’t have flashlights, having left so suddenly, and with the moon obscured by the clouds, we found our task hardened.

We could hear someone chasing after us, but didn’t bother to look back. Forward we ran, the tree branches ripping at our clothes and faces; Connor, barefoot through the mud that was forming from the light raindrops falling to the earth.

And then we were in that little grove. It happened so suddenly; it was as if Camp (or the woods) personified allowed us to find this place. The distance we ran doesn’t make any sense compared to how long we had hiked before. But this grove and what we were experiencing defied logic…

I don’t know what’s darker than dark, but it was far more overcast here. And also affecting our limited night vision was natural debris from the earth—the wind had finally kicked into a forceful frenzy.

“Which one’s the Eye Tree?” I asked, feeling the bark to check for scars.

“It’s over here,” Connor hollered.

I reached into my backpack and removed the khaki-green hat. “Get rid of it, quick,” he cried as loud, foreign sounds infiltrated the grove. But Mother Nature had other plans; the wind ripped the hat from my clenched fist and sent it soaring above our heads.

“The hat!” I yelled in disbelief.

Connor screamed over the cacophony polluting the woods,“What’s happening?”

“The wind took the hat!” I pointed in the general direction it had flown.

“I’m on it,” he said, as a cascade of leaves fell from above—the trees were beginning to shake as he climbed.

“Connor, stop!” I ordered charging after him, but he was much faster than I, and in an instant had scurried up the trunk. I saw where he was headed—the hat was lodged in nearby branches. He reached out his hand…and froze.

The earth launched into rumbles as the trees creaked around us. “Connor?! Connor?!” He didn’t respond or acknowledge my pleas.

He really was frozen; hand, outstretched, inches from the hat. I heard the sound of snapping and the ensuing crash of a large branch behind me—the trees were shedding their limbs.

There wasn’t time to lose. I hurried up the trunk of that tree as quickly as I was able and yanked Connor’s shoulder, hoping to snap him out of whatever fog was clouding his thoughts. Up here the noise was louder than ever and resembled disembodied screams and explosions like that made from a gun. But before I could master Connor’s attention, I heard the snapping sound again—our tree was splintering…

I remember standing off from the rest. In front of me was a group of men, all dressed similarly taking a photo. They looked happy, excited almost, but underneath it all the tension was suffocating. There was one man that I recognized, though I don’t know how. Something innate told me that this was he who pursued us—but he was caught in the moment, laughing and joking with his friends.

Next to me was Connor, also observing this image. “What’s going on,” I asked him.

“We’re dreaming,” he responded.

“We’re dreaming?”

“Yeah, Jonathan, we’re still in the woods.” At these words the Man finally noticed us. Immediately his mannerisms became frigid and his gaze, spiteful. He began to walk in our direction.

“We have to wake up,” Connor said matter-of-factly.

“Connor, he’s getting closer…”

“On the count of three…”

“Connor, he’s pointing at us…”

“One…”

“His face; look at his face…”

“Two…”

“His skin, it’s melting away…”

“THREE!”

I opened my eyes. Somehow we had fallen next to the Eye Tree. “Connor, are you okay?” I asked feebly, drowned out by the wind that had not subsided.

“I can’t move,” he said, trying to pull his leg out from under the branch.

I heard more cracking—the wind was trying its damnedest to uproot the trees of the grove.

And then, at the entrance, appeared a shadow. I’ll never know how I saw this figure in such darkness, but there he was.

“I’m sorry,” I pleaded to the blackness surrounding us, reaching for the hat (which had fallen next to Connor). I thrust it towards the base of the Eye Tree. “Please, just leave us alone. We're sorry."

The noise and the wind receded. The earth stopped moving and the trees regained their composure. Slivers of moonlight cracked through the canopy to illumine Connor and myself—filthy, tired, bloody, scared, and disbelieving of the newfound stillness. The figure was gone; the grove, just an unremarkable part of the woods.

I removed the branch and helped Connor to his feet. He leaned on me as we walked side by side out of the grove back to Camp.

The sky was perfectly clear—above us reigned Ursa Major, Boötes, Hercules, and the Corona Borealis. Beneath them, the ground didn’t show any signs paralleling the unsettling nature of that grove.

I left Connor at his cabin to questions of “What’s going on?” to which he ignored. “I’m going to bed,” he told me.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said back.

My family was waiting for me when I reached my cabin. “You guys waited up this whole time?” I asked.

“What’re you talking about?” Alex questioned. “You only left a half hour ago.”

“But,” I stammered, “I’ve been gone hours.”

“Is your fever back?”

“No. I’m going to bed,” I told them. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I slept blissfully dreamless that night and awoke to a happy Sebastian. “Thanks, Jon,” was all he said.

The week ended normally; PJ and Gavin went back into the woods and easily found the grove. “There’s nothing sinister about it now,” they informed Connor and I. “It’s the complete opposite of when we were first there.”

I have no interest in going back, and neither does Connor. We’ve spoken a few times since the events of that evening, and haven’t had a shared dream since, but it’s very hard to convince people of what we experienced. And maybe we’ll never know exactly what we experienced, or the true reality of the situation. Maybe there was a Wobbly Man. They say that children are more perceptive of these kinds of things—so maybe Sebastian did meet someone.

What I do know is that I saw the look in my nephew’s eyes that night, and it was of pure terror. I saw the form of someone in the cabin, on the low-road, and in the grove. Likewise, Connor and I heard someone pounding on the door and chasing us through the woods.

The hat was gone when PJ and Gavin went back, and I hope it stays gone. Family Camp was always my safe-haven and it taught me yet another valuable life lesson this year: Never take things that aren’t yours. Who would have thought that my safe-haven would have been shattered by something as simplistic as an old khaki-green hat? Possibly, only my four-year-old nephew