Confronting the Entity

Surviving the Bermuda Triangle of Forests

Whittaker bent over and found a video camera on the ground in the middle of the woods next to a tree.

“Huh, what are you doing here?”

“Hey Whittaker, are you done surveying the land over there?”

“Yeah! I just found a camera on the ground. Looks like an old one from 2009, but professional grade.”

“Yeah ok, whatever. So can we start chopping these trees now?”

“I’m not even sure why you bring me here, it’s not like you care what I tell you.”

“Whittaker you are absolutely right, I really could care less. Now please move.”

Whittaker looking at the foreman leaned back to rest on the tree she was near. But to her surprise she instead fell straight to the ground.

“You lose your footing?” The foreman joked.

“Heh, very funny.” She responded “I coulda swore there was a tree there.” She shook her head. “All those shots must still be getting to me.”

The foreman and his team got started with their equipment. Whittaker stepped aside.

“Dennis, are you ready? Do you have the trees marked for today?” The foreman yelled to the planner Dennis.

“Yep we’re all good to go,” Dennis said.

After instructions were given to the workers the foreman walked back over to Whittaker.

“Since you care about the land so much, do you know what the locals called this part of the forest?”

“Does it really matter? There won’t be a forest left when we’re done,” she responded.

“Haha, that’s the spirit! This was known by the locals as the Bermuda Triangle of forests. When we’re done with it, it’ll be the Bermuda Triangle of Parking Lots.”

Whittaker scoffed and looked away.

“Yeah, honestly the world is probably a better place without it.” The foreman continued.

“Seems like a huge waste of money to fly me in all the way from the US just to have you stand here and tell me ghost stories.”

“Yep it is. But it keeps the environmentalists off our backs. So for the moment, you’re stuck here with us.”

Whittaker stepped aside and let the woodsman do their work. She fiddled with the camera.

She pressed the power button… Nothing happened.

Its been sitting out here for like 30 years, of course it wouldn’t turn on.

The cable slot was an old USB Type-B connector. Whittaker recognized it immediately.

She looked over to the foreman, “Hey! Do you guys have any old USB connectors lying around?”

“What, why?” he responded.

“I want to plug this in and see whats on it”

“You’ll be lucky if it even works,” the foreman responded. “But yeah you should find out what’s on it, it could be very important,” He said sarcastically.

“If anything at least it might give you something to do instead of breathing down my neck.”

“I’m a good multi-tasker. I think I can do both,” She retorted.

Later that night Whittaker got home to her RV and put the video camera on a table.

“Fortunately for me, I don’t need a power cable for you” she talked to the camera.

She slumped down onto the couch in the camper, “Luckily I have a camera of my own!” She sighed “I wouldn’t be a good environmentalist without it.”

Whittaker popped the SD card out of the camera and slotted it into her camera.

“Please, please please.” She said clenching her fists. Whittaker pressed the on button on the camera, and the screen flicked to life.

She navigated to the cameras memory and clicked view. A dialogue box popped up saying Memory Card Unreadable.

“Damn.” she said to herself. She took the sd card out of the camera and blew on the contact end of the card, and also in the sd slot of the camera.

“Probably still had some dust on it” she thought.

She slotted the card back into the camera. This time the memory screen filled up with videos.

“YES!” she said.

She flicked to the first video on the card and played it.

The face on the screen was immediately recognizable. “Slammin’ Salmon-man!” she shouted.

Whittaker knew who this was because she had seen him on TV when she was a child. He was the host of a nature survival show. Famous for daring stunts and teaching people to survive in impossible conditions.

She remembered that he and his crew had disappeared during a shoot of one of his episodes. Could this be a camera from that last shoot?

That was ages ago, so it was unlikely Whittaker knew. She watched some of the clips left on the camera and sure enough they confirmed the identity of the camera.

“Wow what a find” she thought. She was probably one of the first people to have any evidence of what happened to Slammin Salmon.

*THUD* A loud sound from outside the RV. Whittakers head snapped towards the sound. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

It was clearly loud enough to have rustled everyone on site. Whittaker creeped over to the door of her RV and peered out from the camper in her comfy pajamas.

The rest of the workers had been rustled and were on the lookout for anything suspicious.

“Over here!” somebody yelled. Everyone rushed over to the source of the sound. By the time Whittaker had made her way over to the source of the sound a sizeable crowd had gathered.

What Whittaker saw when she pushed her way through the crowd of rowdy arborists was hard to make out. At first she just saw what looked like a pile of clothes on the floor, but her eyes slowly adjusted. Bones, limbs, and blood. Blood everywhere.

Whatever had happened here she was looking at a worker, or at least, what was left of him.

The rowdy crowd had become restless. The sounds of screams as people witnessed this horrific sight. As one person saw the mangled pile of bones on the ground and became sick another person would push their way through to start the cycle over again.

“Who was that?!” some yelled, “I think it was Jim!” “No I’m over here!” “Oh thank god. Then who was it?” With all the chaos it was hard to make out who exactly was missing.

“What the hell is going on!” the foreman yelled. All heads turned. He made his way over to the gruesome site. “Holy hell!” he yelled. “What the fuck happened here?”

Silence.

“Well it had to be something! He’s a fucking puddle! You don’t just turn into a fucking puddle out of nowhere. Turn on the floodlights and lets flush the fucker out that did this.”

“Someone get the goddamn rifle!” His orders echoed through the forest clearing as everyone mobilized and got to work.

The flood-lights flicked on, bringing the scene into clearer view. Some workers searched the area for animals while the foreman and the senior members cautiously examined the scene for more clues.

“What do you make of it?” The foreman asked openly.

“Well he was obviously crushed..” someone pitched in.

“Ya don’t fuckin think?” the foreman said sarcastically.

“Why is he covered in leaves?” someone else said.

“Whats that puddle in front of him?” Whittaker pointed out. “Its not blood”

One of the other workers leaned forward and took a closer look. “Hmm, you’re right” Then the smell hit him.

“AUGH! Its urine! He was going to the bathroom”

“Ok so he left his housing unit to go to the bathroom… thud… then… puddle. What does that mean?” asked the foreman.

“Perhaps he accidentally attracted some creature?” someone else chimed in.

Whittaker interjected, “I’m feeling unwell. I’m gonna go back to my RV.”

Nobody paid her much attention as she walked back to her RV. She was anxious to think about something else. Perhaps she would feel better if she looked through more of those old videos.

As Whittaker stepped back into the RV, she slid the SD card back into the camera. She pressed play and started watching one of the later videos. This time, Slammin’ Salmon was visibly worried. He spoke of strange occurrences in the forest, shadows that seemed to move on their own, disappearing equipment, and an eerie feeling of being watched. His last words on the video were, "We're leaving first thing in the morning. This place, it ain't right."

Suddenly, Whittaker remembered something the foreman had mentioned earlier: the locals called this place the Bermuda Triangle of forests. She began to put the pieces together. This area was notorious for unexplainable incidents and now, a gruesome death. Maybe this wasn't just an accident, she thought.

The next morning, Whittaker approached the foreman with her findings. He was dismissive at first, "Old ghost stories and a TV show host's drama. You're losing it, Whittaker."

"Maybe," she responded. "But we should take precautions. We can't explain what happened last night."

Reluctantly, the foreman agreed to halt work for the day. The crew was more than happy to rest after the previous night's incident. Whittaker seized this opportunity to explore the woods, with the camera in hand.

She spent the entire day scouring the woods, observing the trees, the ground, any signs of irregularities. And then, she saw it - a tree, just like the one she fell through the day before. She reached out, and her hand passed through the bark. It was an illusion, just like the one she had experienced before.

Suddenly, she heard a loud rustling sound from behind. She turned around and saw a figure quickly disappearing behind the trees. Whittaker gave chase and as she got closer, she could make out the figure - it was Slammin’ Salmon. Or at least, it looked like him.

As she got closer, he turned to her, his eyes filled with fear. “Run!” he screamed. “Run before it gets you too!”

Suddenly, a loud, indescribable noise filled the forest. Whittaker, filled with fear, turned and ran back towards the campsite. She could hear the trees crashing behind her as she ran. She didn't dare to look back.

When she reached the camp, she found it in chaos. The workers were packing their things, their faces pale with fear. The foreman, upon seeing her, rushed over. "We heard it too," he said, his voice trembling. "We're leaving."

As Whittaker looked back at the forest, she knew they were making the right decision. There was something unnatural about this place, something that didn't want them there. As the sun set, they drove away, leaving the Bermuda Triangle of forests behind.

And as the last of the vehicles disappeared from view, a lone figure stood by the edge of the forest. It watched as they left, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light. With a final look, it turned around and disappeared into the forest, leaving no trace behind.

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