A Father's Weekend Camping Trip Becomes a Nightmare When His Son Disappears into the Dark Woods

Daniel hoped a weekend in the woods would help mend his strained relationship with his son, Caleb. But after a heated argument, Caleb storms off — and doesn’t return. As night falls, Daniel searches the dark forest, only to find footsteps that stop without a trace…

I hadn't seen my son Caleb in over a month. Too long. But he and Megan lived in a different city now, way on the other side of the state.

Each mile I drove toward my ex-wife's house felt like another reminder of how far we'd drifted apart.

Years ago, weekend trips meant excited chatter and over-packed bags filled with his favorite action figure, too many snacks, and a flashlight he'd barely use.

Now, the silence stretched between us like a living thing.

The neighborhoods leading to Megan's new place felt foreign, full of cookie-cutter houses, picket fences, and neat lawns. A far cry from our old place.

When I pulled into her driveway, my stomach knotted at the sight of Evan's car. Of course, he was there. His sensible hybrid sat next to Megan's SUV like it belonged there. Maybe it did now.

Megan answered the door, her expression carefully neutral. "Hi, Daniel. Caleb will be right down."

My chest tightened at the sight of her. "Sure. Uh… how are you doing?"

Megan chewed her lower lip as though weighing her answer. Then Evan stepped into view, wiping flour from his hands with a dish towel.

"Hey! You must be Daniel. Nice to meet you. You want a cookie? The first batch just came out of the oven."

He wasn't particularly handsome or intimidating, just steady-looking. The kind of guy who remembered to buy milk and, apparently, baked cookies on a Saturday afternoon.

He extended his hand, and I hesitated before shaking it. He was so friendly, but I resented him anyway.

"Oh, I'm sure Daniel wants to get going as soon as possible," Megan cut in. She stepped away from the door, away from me, and called Caleb's name.

When Caleb appeared, he was taller than I remembered. His shoulders were stiff, his expression guarded.

"Hey, Dad," he mumbled, with no warmth in his voice.

Megan handed me his already-packed bag like she'd been counting the minutes until I'd leave.

"There's extra socks in the side pocket," she said. "And his allergy medicine, just in case."

As if I didn't remember my own son's allergies.

"Thanks." I took the bag. "I guess we'll head out then."

Megan pulled Caleb into a hug and we headed to the car. As we drove away, I caught sight of Evan standing behind Megan in the rearview mirror, his hand resting on her lower back.

My jaw tightened. Part of me still couldn't believe she'd moved on. Sure, the divorce was finalized months ago, and she'd moved Caleb across state chasing a job opportunity soon afterward, but… it felt like it had happened too fast.

I couldn't help thinking we might've been able to fix things and be a family again if she could just sit still for five minutes with me.

The drive to the campsite was excruciating. Every attempt at conversation hit a wall.

"How's school?"

"Fine."

"And soccer?"

"Fine."

"Your friends?"

"Fine."

I watched him from the corner of my eye, this stranger wearing my son's face. He'd grown so much in the past year. His jawline was sharper, losing its boyish softness. He had my nose, Megan's eyes. When had he started looking so old?

"Okay then. Good to know everything's fine." I tried to keep my voice casual. "How's, uh, things with Evan?"

Caleb tensed beside me. "He's okay. He helps me with math."

My stomach twisted, but I kept my tone even. "That's good."

He glanced at me like he could read every thought crossing my mind. "He's not that bad."

I forced a chuckle. "That's a glowing review."

"At least he's there," Caleb muttered, so quiet I almost missed it.

"You know I'm doing my best, bud. The distance, work… it would help if you spent more than a few minutes on the phone when I call, or answered my texts."

He rolled his eyes at me and put in his earbuds. Conversation over. My fingers clenched on the steering wheel and I kept driving.

The road had turned to dirt miles ago, winding deeper into the forest, where the trees pressed closer with each mile. The air grew thick with the scent of earth and moss — it smelled ancient, like a place time forgot.

Shadows lengthened across the dashboard as the sun dipped lower. I pulled over near an overgrown path I'd scouted online. No fire rings. No facilities. Just raw wilderness.

"This is it?" Caleb asked, looking distinctly unimpressed.

"This is it. Real camping, like we used to do. You know, they say this is one of the oldest parts of the world?"

Caleb grunted. "We used to camp in state parks. With bathrooms."

I ignored the jab and started unloading the car. The tent was new. I'd splurged on it for this trip. The old Coleman had gone to Megan in the divorce, along with most of our camping gear. Along with almost everything else.

While I set up camp, Caleb kicked at rocks with zero interest. The tent poles clicked together with satisfying snaps, muscle memory taking over despite the years since I'd last done this. I tried bringing up old family camping trips, hoping to spark some nostalgia.

"Remember that time we saw those baby raccoons? Must've been four, maybe five years ago?"

Caleb shrugged. "Sort of."

"Your mom was so worried they'd get into the cooler, but you wanted to leave them hot dogs."

"Yeah."

"You ever camp around here with your mom?" I hesitated. "With Evan?"

He shrugged again. "Nah. Some kids at school said people go missing out here, though. Like, forever missing."

I chuckled. "Let me guess, Bigfoot snatches them?"

A smirk tugged at his mouth. "More like things that sound like people, but aren't." Then he waved it off. "I dunno. They're just messing around."

"Sounds about right. So, are you going to help me with this?"

Caleb sighed and sulkily proceeded to be as ineffectually helpful as a 13-year-old could be. Eventually, the tent stood ready, a blue dome against the darkening sky.

"Here." I tossed the sleeping bags at him. Instead of catching them, they hit him in the chest, one after the other.

"What the hell, Dad?" Caleb snapped.

"Hey, language!" I admonished him. "Lay out our sleeping bags and I'll get the fire going."

Caleb sniffed and muttered something that made me see red.

"...don't care about me, just dragged me into the forest to boss me around."

"What did you say?" I spun round to face him. "I brought you here so we could spend time together. Why are you acting like this?"

"You wouldn't understand," he mumbled.

"You could try," I snapped back. "I'm your dad—"

He scoffed. "Yeah. When it's convenient."

That landed like a punch to the gut.

"You weren't even around much before the divorce!" His voice rose. "You always had something more important to do. Now, suddenly, I matter?"

"That's not fair," I stammered. "I was working to provide—"

"Provide what? You weren't there! Not for my games, not for school stuff, not for anything!" He kicked at the tent pole, making the whole structure shudder. "And now you buy some fancy tent and expect everything to be fine?"

He shook his head, eyes bright with anger and hurt. "I don't even know where I fit anymore. Mom has her new life with Evan. You have... whatever this is. Where am I supposed to be?"

Before I could respond, he turned and stormed into the trees.

I told myself to let him cool off. He'd come back. But as the sun dipped lower and shadows stretched longer, doubt crept in.

The fire's glow only reached so far. Beyond it, the woods stood in layers of black, the trees barely more than shadows against deeper dark. The silence felt wrong, like the forest was listening. Waiting.

"Caleb?" I stood at the edge of the woods, calling into the shadows. "Caleb!"

A beat of silence. Then my voice called back. "Caleb..."

I froze. Just an echo, I told myself. But it didn't sound quite right. The inflection was wrong, like someone trying to mimic speech without understanding what the words meant.

I grabbed my flashlight and headed into the trees. The beam caught fragments of the forest: moss-covered trunks, tangles of ferns, the occasional flash of eyes low to the ground — probably just raccoons or deer.

I followed Caleb's footprints until they abruptly stopped. No signs of turning back. No signs of where he went. I called for him again but heard only the weird echo of my voice.

The trees were old here, their branches weaving so tightly overhead that they swallowed the sky. The air felt heavy, pressing in from all sides.

No wind stirred the leaves. No birds called. Just the distant drip of water and the occasional creak of shifting wood.

Up ahead, a shape stood between the trees. Too tall. Unmoving.

My heart hammered. "Caleb?"

"Caleb," my echo repeated. "Caleb?"

The flashlight flickered. The shape remained still, watching as I drew closer.

It was just a twisted tree. Relief flooded me, but unease lingered.

Then I heard Caleb's voice calling, and I ran toward it without thinking.

I nearly stepped right into the gully. It yawned open just past the tree line, a steep drop masked by fallen leaves and ferns.

My flashlight beam caught Caleb at the bottom, half-covered in dirt. His face was pale, eyes too wide.

"Dad, help!"

I slid down without hesitation. The earth gave beneath my boots, sending me skidding. I landed hard, hands scraping against damp rock.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, but his gaze flicked to the darkness beyond. "I'm okay, Dad, but... I don't think we're alone down here."

My pulse spiked. "What do you mean?"

"Something chased me in the woods. I heard... I heard you calling me, but it wasn't you. All those stories the kids told me at school… I think they're true."

"Calm down. I was calling you. The echoes here are just… weird."

The gully was deeper than I'd first thought. The walls stretched high, the trees above forming a jagged black crown against the night sky. Something moved nearby. I swung my flashlight around, and the beam landed on a shape a few yards away.

Caleb let out a shaky laugh.

"It's just a deer."

The deer took a slow step forward, its legs moving in a way that didn't quite look right. Each joint bent like a puppet being manipulated by inexpert hands.

"Dad..." Caleb frowned. "Look at how it's moving. Maybe it's injured?"

I lifted the flashlight slightly. The deer's eyes did not reflect the light normally. Instead, they seemed to draw it in and devour it. An icy chill ran down my spine and my chest squeezed tight.

I kept my voice steady. "Come on. If it's hurt, we shouldn't be near it. Could have rabies. We need to get out of here."

He hesitated, then nodded.

We scrambled out of the gully. Neither of us looked back. The sound that followed us wasn't hooves on leaves: it was the wet slap of something soft dragging itself across the ground.

We both broke into a run. The sound grew louder, faster, tearing through the underbrush behind us as we ran.

The campfire's glow grew closer through the trees, but just as we glimpsed the site, Caleb yelled, "Dad!"

I turned back. He was gripping his ankle and grimacing, and that sickly sound was drawing closer.

I threw Caleb over my shoulder and sprinted for the fire. I didn't know what was dragging itself through the forest after us, but I felt certain that if I found out, it would be the last thing I did in this life.

We collapsed by the fire. I grabbed one of the logs I'd gathered and spun to face the trees, wielding it like a weapon.

There was nothing there. Even the sound had stopped. I stood there a few more minutes, just to be certain it was safe, and then I put the log on the fire and crouched down beside Caleb.

Caleb had pulled his knees to his chest. He looked younger suddenly. Smaller. I started tending to his ankle, and neither of us spoke for a long time.

Finally, he muttered, "I didn't mean what I said before."

I shook my head as I rifled through the first aid kit. "Yeah, you did. And you were right."

He sighed. "I just don't know where I fit anymore. Everything's different."

My throat tightened. I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face. "You fit here. With me. Even when things are messed up. Even when I mess up."

He looked at me, doubtful. "Even if we don't see each other much?"

"Even then. Look, I know I haven't been... I haven't been the dad you deserve. But I want to do better. I want to be here. Please, just… let me."

A small, quiet understanding passed between us. He leaned slightly against my side and we stared into the campfire.

"That thing in the woods," he said after a while. "What do you think it was?"

"I... don't know. A deer, a sick deer. But it looks like we're safe here by the fire."

We climbed into the tent soon afterward. Caleb drifted off first. I watched him sleep, feeling closer to my son than I had in a long time.

His features were softer in sleep, younger. I saw traces of the little boy who used to crawl into my lap during thunderstorms, who believed his dad could fix anything.

Maybe things weren't perfect, but this was a start. Tomorrow we'd head home, back to our complicated lives and shared custody schedules, but something had shifted tonight, some small repair in the fraying bonds between father and son.

Somewhere in the darkness beyond our fire, a deer barked.

Here's another story: My controlling MIL became unbearable after I gave birth, but I hit my limit when she stole the family dog, claiming it was a threat to the baby. I gave my husband an ultimatum that shattered family ties, but a bittersweet reunion years later healed us.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.