The air at Camp Campbell hung heavy, the kind of humid that clung to your skin like a bad decision. Crickets chirped erratically in the woods beyond the campfire’s glow, where the embers popped and hissed, casting jagged shadows across the clearing. Most of the campers were asleep in their tents, but you and Max were out here, sitting on a splintered log, staring into the dying fire. He’d dragged you out to “investigate” some weird noise he swore he heard—probably just to mess with you, knowing him.

“This is such bullshit,” Max grumbled, kicking a pebble into the dirt. His hoodie sleeves were too long, dangling over his knuckles as he clutched a stick to poke at the fire. “David’s probably out here setting up some dumb trust exercise. ‘Oh, campers, embrace the mystery!’” He mimicked David’s voice with a sneer, then glanced at you. “You’re not actually buying this crap, are you?”

You didn’t answer right away, your eyes fixed on the treeline. Something about the woods felt wrong tonight—too quiet, too still, like the forest was holding its breath. You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the hairs on your neck stood up.

Max snorted. “Yeah, thought so. Let’s just—” A low, metallic whine cut through the air, sharp and unnatural, like a blade scraping against stone. It came from the woods, close enough to make you both freeze. Max’s stick snapped in his hand, and he whipped his head toward the sound. “What… the fuck was that?”

You stood, heart pounding, scanning the darkness. The campfire’s light didn’t reach far, and beyond it, the trees were a wall of black. The whine came again, louder, closer, vibrating through the ground like a tuning fork. Max was on his feet now, his usual bravado replaced with a tense, “Okay, maybe we should—”

Before he could finish, a glint flashed in the air—a razor-thin wire, glinting in the firelight, slicing through the night with surgical precision. It moved faster than you could process, aimed straight at you. You tried to duck, but it was too late.

The wire caught you just below your chin, clean and cold, severing through flesh and bone with no resistance. For a split second, you felt nothing—just a strange weightlessness. Your head stayed in place, balanced impossibly on your neck as your body froze mid-step. Max’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he stumbled back, tripping over the log.

Your head tilted slightly, then slid—slowly, grotesquely—off your neck, rolling down your chest and hitting the ground with a dull thud. Your body crumpled a moment later, collapsing into the dirt like a marionette with cut strings. Blood sprayed in a lazy arc, painting the ground and spattering Max’s sneakers.

“HOLY SHIT!” Max screamed, scrambling backward, his voice cracking as he stared at your severed head, eyes still open, staring blankly at the fire. The wire was gone as quickly as it appeared, vanishing into the dark. The metallic whine faded, replaced by Max’s ragged breathing and the faint crackle of the campfire. He fell to his knees, hands shaking as he stared at your body, then at the woods, where something rustled faintly—like it was waiting. “No, no, no, what the fuck just happened?!” he yelled, his voice echoing into the night. The campfire flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to twist and writhe, as if the forest itself was closing in.