Adam was lost and disoriented. The trees surrounded him like pistons ready to hold up the sky. He had felt like he ran a marathon. The last thing he remembered was the high school senior party at the edge where beach met woods. At first he thought he had gotten roofied as a prank and his friends would jump out to scare him half to death. Though now, he felt more terror than he ever thought he could.

He knew he was in a dire situation. Their parents didn’t expect them back for the weekend. His breath, erratic, was misting in his face with every breath. His legs were cramping, having had nothing but beer, smores and vinimos twists all night. His adrenaline was giving way to despair. The denial that he was in trouble was crushing his ribs, making him heave for air. His vision was starting to blur with a mix of sweat dripping into them and pure fear.

He squinted when he saw a shift in the shadows though. Slowly, a car’s headlights could be seen just past the clump of trees he was in. He wanted to shout for them, but something held him back. Something told him not to, that it was a trap. His instincts have never led him wrong yet, so he waited.

He followed the creeping car. A few metres on, it stopped and two men climbed out. Dressed as hunters, they started setting up traps. He crawled closer in time to see one smiling; a perfect row of jagged teeth -like the first line of a shark’s bite- glistened in the moonlight permeating the trees and surrounding mist. His gasp was soft, but audible. The smaller of the men turned, cocking his gun, “Well, well, it seems some of our game have already left their feast!”

He ran blindly, hoping he wasn’t already running straight into one of their traps, his trainers pounding the ground. The soil felt like it was trying to suck him in with each foot fall. He panted and turned his head just in time to see the bigger of the two keeping Adam’s speed as if it were a light jog. He ran what felt like hours until he had ran himself in so much circles, he actually made it back to the party.

His friends, drunk as anything, didn’t believe a word he said. Adam kept a close eye on the trees for the rest of the night. When the day broke, he and his friends went out looking for the traps, but found nothing. Having chalked it up to a bad reaction of the alcohol, he stayed the next night too. Everyone had put money together for a mass order of Taco Bell.

When he turned to look at the forest that last night, sour cream dripping down his chin, he could have sworn that someone had lit a cigarette a tree stump width away from the edge. Razor white teeth glinting around it, waiting to be turned red.