My journey with Facebook went something like this ficticious story…
My friends wanted me to go camping. I’m trained in survival and have seen my share of the great outdoors. For my friends, I could understand the appeal. But for me, it wasn’t something I was interested in doing. Knowing what I do, it would be more fun for them than for me. But they persisted and I relented.
At first, I’ll admit it was fun. Many people I hadn’t seen in years were there pitching tents at the campsite. The weather was nice and someone always had food to share. The most viscious animals were a few chipmunks, squirrels and some family dogs.
After a few days of fun, sun and short hikes through the woods, the weather gradually grew more violent. I was out with a group when one particularly sudden storm overtook us. I tried to help my friends as best I could. They knew I was a survival expert. But many of them refused to listen and were lost. I found myself alone, shouting instructions on what to do, but nobody would listen. Everyone was busy shouting their own ideas as the storm grew worse.
I’m not entirely sure when it happened, but I found myself alone, separated from the group. In the distance I could hear them shouting but the storm was so bad I couldn’t see them.
Using my training, I built myself a shelter, a fire and gathered food from the surrounding vegetation. I had located a stream of muddy water, but I knew how to clean it.
There I remained, hunkered down in my shelter, living off my own supplies. Over the course of several months, others who found themselves lost, stumbled across my shelter and I let them in. I taught them how to build and survive out here in the wild.
Months later… yes, I said “Months” the storm passed. My new group and I set forth to find others who might have survived. We found them. Oh, did we find them.
It seems there was something about this storm that changed them. They weren’t the people we knew anymore. They were wild, dangerous and attacked us.
Our new group was not completely immune to these changes. One by one, they set in. Our group began to turn on one another, viscously attacking and devouring each other.
I must confess that I too became infected with whatever it was that changed us. Someone I didn’t know inside of me eviscerated several of my companions. Eventually the sickness took over completely. There was no more man. Only a beast. A beast made more viscous by the very skills I had learned to survive.
For almost 2 years I wandered the wilderness, devouring the innocent, occasionally encountering animals more wild than I had become. Several times I narrowly escaped with my life.
One day, quite accidentally, I stumbled upon a road that led back to the life I once knew. A breeze from there filled my lungs and my head slowly started to clear.
When enough of my senses returned, I started the journey home, leaving signs in case any of my friends happened upon the same path back from the darkness.
It’s been several weeks now, glad to be back among the civilized. But I’m still haunted by the memories of the monster I became. I know it wasn’t all my fault. But I blamed myself and still feel ashamed. Not only for the monstrous things that I’d done but for failing to find the path home sooner and also for not saving my friends.
A few months later I met this stunningly beautiful girl. She has eyes that look right through me, cutting into my soul with the skill of a surgeon. Her hair was like the overlook view of a mountain vista – the one you pull over in your car just to get out and look. And when she spoke, her voice paralyzed me. I wanted to melt into her sounds.
She spoke to me. She said, “Hey. Wanna go camping?”