About three years ago, I was on a nomadic trip. You know, the kind where every night you find a different place to sleep? Well, it was one of those. I was gone for a week, and this would hopefully be my last camping trip in Colorado. I was in the wilderness, of course, and the nearest civilization was 12 miles away. I planned to keep it that way, until I learned how the trip would end. I was hiking, and I had brought my 12 gauge in case of trouble.
My pack was stuffed with canned foods, a hatchet and a lighter. It was about 3 PM, and my compass was acting strangely. I was traveling to the southern part of the mountains, and my compass kept hanging its mind, as though the North Pole was flying around. I decided to put it away and keep walking in the direction it originally said was south.
The breeze was picking up, and dust was flying everywhere, and I couldn't see for shit. I put on my sunglasses hoping it would help, and thankfully, it did. I couldn't see horribly well, but at least there wasn't grit flying into my eyes. I stumbled across an abandoned house, and the wind had calmed down. I took off my sunglasses, and looked around. the house was pretty small.
The door seemed to be non-existent, so I peeked in. There wasn't anything inside except for ruined furniture, and it seemed to only have one room, with a bed, a fireplace, a table, a stove, and a couch. I went inside and slipped on a rat. It squealed and ran off into a hole in the wall. I was pretty shook up, so I was highly alert afterwards.
I was looking around, and heard something outside. I pumped my shotgun and looked out the door. There wasn't anything there. I looked around and saw a really weird looking sort of man. He seemed mostly normal, except he had flaky skin and for a second I thought he was a meth head. He suddenly twisted his head at an odd angle and I flipped the fuck out. I ran away (Yeah I know, I'm a wimp) and hid behind a tree. I don't know why I didn't shoot, but I guess I just panicked. I sat there and started losing my shit. I cried and got ready to book it, but I didn't. I manned up and went to face him. He probably wasn't scary enough to withstand a shotgun shell in his fucking FACE.
I went over there and surely enough, there he was. I shouted at him and got ready to shoot. I pulled the trigger and the gun seemed to just make him look even worse. He started coming at me saying some weird shit that I didn't understand, and I shot again. This time it seemed he actually got hurt. I tried again, but it turns out I only had two shells in the gun.
I needed to get more ammo, but its not like I could just ask him to stop so I could blow his face off. I ran off super far, but he was quickly gaining on me. I open my pocket (while I was RUNNING, mind you) and pulled out another shell. I loaded up and fired. His head went off, and the rest of the body RAN AWAY. IT fucking just RAN AWAY. I was worn out, and looked at my compass. This may sound peculiar, but somehow the needle was pointing UP. There was only one place I could call this; I was at North-South.