It is summer and my mom’s side of the family and I are on a camping trip. A man who none of us really know is camping at the sight just across from us, and he’s being quite obnoxious. He keeps warning us that there is a serial killer on the loose, but none of us put any stock in what he’s saying. I am sitting in my tent alone later in the afternoon when a shadow appears in the trees above me, indiscernible through the rain net stretched over the top of the tent. I drop my book and shout for my family, hoping to scare, whatever it is.
My family comes running but by the time I poke my head out of the tent and we look around, it’s gone. We decide that it might be best to err on the side of caution and pack up, and the man with the camp next door watches us intently. Finally he simply walks over, says that he was trying to kill us off slowly but now was ready to mow us all down then and there with his knife before we could escape. We all run from him through the arid pine forest, eventually reaching a narrow ledge, high up on the face of a canyon.
He is too wide-set to follow us, so curses us as we inch our way to safety. As we move along the rock face, we notice that the area must have been a popular rock climbing destination as it is covered with large and intricate murals that truly are works of art. We pass one entitled, “John Kerry Astride Over Emptiness” by some lesser known German artist.