u/Kirill-history12

​

This happened three years ago, but I still can't sleep with the lights off unless my wife is next to me.

My best friend Dima and I decided to have a "men's getaway" — escape from our gf, work, and the city grind for a weekend. Dima is a hardcore outdoorsman; he has all the gear, including a GPS and walkie-talkies. I was just dead weight who wanted to roast some sausages and drink beer by the fire.

We drove to a remote forest area a couple hundred kilometers from the city. Dima picked the spot using a map: a secluded lake where regular cars can't reach — only off-road vehicles or on foot. We left the car on a dirt road and walked for about two hours through the forest.

The forest was... strange. Too quiet. Even the birds weren't singing. But we chalked it up to the heat and the time of day (it was noon). We came out to the lake. It was perfect: clear water, a sandy shore surrounded by ancient pines. We set up the tent, built a fire, and started to relax.

Towards evening, when it got dark, we heard a sound. Somewhere deep in the forest, from the direction we'd come from, a generator started up. The sound was steady, mechanical: brrrrrrrrr. It was odd. We were sure there was nobody around.

"Maybe mushroom foragers with a tent?" Dima suggested, but it was obvious he was on edge. He pulled out the walkie-talkie and tried scanning frequencies. Silence — just static and that brrrrrrrr.

We decided to ignore it. We drank, we ate. But the sound didn't stop. It ran for an hour, two, three. It was monotonous, like a metronome of death. Around midnight we heard a new sound: footsteps. The snap of branches. Someone was walking around our camp. Not coming close, but not leaving either. Circle after circle.

Dima, who had a non-lethal pistol with him, told me to stay quiet. We put out the fire and climbed into the tent. I could hear him breathing. And I could hear someone outside, just a couple of meters away, stop.

Then we heard a voice. Male, calm, even polite.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I'm just checking the perimeter. Get some rest."

We didn't sleep all night. The generator shut off only in the morning. And with it, the footsteps disappeared too.

In the morning we packed up camp in 15 minutes, without even eating breakfast. We walked back fast, looking over our shoulders. When we reached the car, I saw a note lying on the hood, held down by a rock.

The handwriting was calligraphic, like a penmanship teacher's.

"You were on private property. Next time, before you pitch a tent, check whether someone is digging a hole nearby. I didn't touch you because you didn't litter. But my neighbor didn't like your laughter. He ran the generator all night so he wouldn't have to hear you. Leave and don't come back. And yes, Dima, your walkie-talkie operates on a frequency I've been listening to for twenty years. Say hi to your wife."

We looked at each other. Dima went pale. We started the car and drove off. Only an hour later, when we were already on the highway, Dima said:

"I didn't tell anyone where we were going. Not even my wife. I told her we were going fishing somewhere else."

I looked at him.

"Then how did he know your name?"

We never went back there again. I tried to pull up the coordinates on maps later, but at the location of that lake on satellite images there's nothing but swamp and windfall. There's no lake there at all.