The Waterfall

A blood-curdling scream tore from Amelia's throat as she stared at the photo on her camera. It had been four days since she had arrived at the desolate ranger station nestled deep in the heart of the Steens Mountains. Her mission had been to capture the landscape for a prestigious nature magazine, promoting tourism to this remote region of Oregon. 

She pulled her pickup truck into a spot next to the ranger station and shut off the engine. Stepping out of the vehicle, she inhaled the thin, crisp air, filled with the refreshing scents of pine and sagebrush. The rugged peaks towered above; their rocky faces worn down by years of erosion. But she knew the potential these mountains held. This would be her big break, a chance to prove herself as a legitimate photographer. 

She carted her heavy backpack, filled to the brim with essential supplies for a week in the wilderness. The weight pressed against her shoulders and back, but she had grown used to it after years of hiking and camping trips with her parents. She carried her trusted digital camera, which had cost almost as much as her monthly rent for her studio apartment in the city.

She exchanged brief words with a hiker at the ranger at the station, who provided her a crude map marked with trails and landmarks. Among them was a waterfall, a stunning hidden treasure that Amelia was determined to capture through her lens. The waterfall held a special place in her heart, as it was where her parents had gotten engaged. She had brought a bottle of wine from her parent’s wedding, saved for over three decades, with the intention of toasting her parents at the spot of their engagement. 

On her first morning, she encountered sagebrush, juniper, and a variety of mountain trees; and by early afternoon she stumbled upon a crystal-clear stream. Taking a break by the water's edge, she savored a modest meal of an apple and peanuts. But the calm moment was interrupted by a rancid stench that carried on the wind, unlike anything she had experienced. Just as quickly as it came, the smell shifted in another direction. 

She continued along the trail for several more hours, capturing the vibrant colors of the wilderness. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the jagged peaks, Amelia felt a chill in the air and decided to set up camp for the night. She found a flat spot to pitch her nylon tent. She gathered dry branches to start a small campfire. The crackling flames provided warmth and comfort as she indulged in a meal of canned beef stew, heated over an open flame. She settled down by the fire to browse through the photos she had taken that day, knowing she had captured some truly incredible shots. 

During the next several days, Amelia ventured deep into the wilderness, following the trails, and consulting her map for guidance. She couldn't resist the thought that her parents may have trodden these very trails years ago. Each night, as the sun began to descend, she pitched her tent, lit a fire, and reviewed the photos she had captured throughout the day. She always tucked her trusty camera next to her pillow for safe keeping while she slept. 

On the fourth day, she woke up eager to continue her trek and hoped to reach the waterfall by afternoon. But as she gathered her belongings and stowed them in her backpack, she noticed her camera near the bottom of her sleeping bag. She dismissed it, thinking that maybe she had unknowingly moved it while sleeping. That afternoon, she arrived at the waterfall. She captured a myriad of images as the white water plunged down the mountain facade, resembling a bride's delicate veil.

That night was special. She uncorked the bottle of wine and started a fire. She took selfies of herself drinking the wine and couldn’t wait to show them to her parents when she got back to the city. The journey was tranquil, just as she had wished. She hadn’t encountered another person since the hiker back at the ranger station, and that was exactly how she wanted it. The only sounds were the croaks of frogs and the low rumble of the nearby waterfall. As the fire dwindled and she began to feel chilly, she retreated into her tent and zipped it shut, snuggling into her sleeping bag. She hadn't looked at her photos since the previous evening and was eager to see all the shots she had taken of the waterfall. 

As she swiped through the pictures, her heart skipped a beat when she saw one that she didn't recognize taking. The photo showed her sleeping in her tent, with her hair splayed across the pillow and a look of terror etched onto her face. A blood-curdling scream tore from Amelia's throat. Her hands trembled, causing her to fumble and drop the camera. 

Then, she heard the nylon tent rustling and the sound of the zipper slowly being pulled up. She lay still in her sleeping bag, too afraid to move. Her eyes were tightly shut, hoping that the noise was just her imagination. But then, she felt the weight of someone or something crawling towards her. A putrid stench filled the tent, the same stench she encountered while eating lunch by the stream on the first day. She tried to back away, but the confines of the tent restricted her. Warm breath wheezed on her neck. Amelia picked up the camera and she aimed it ahead of her and pressed the flash button, briefly lighting up the tent. In that split second, she caught a glimpse of what was in front of her. 

A week had passed since Amelia's expected return, and her parents congregated a search party. People combed through the wilderness, searching for any signs of her whereabouts. Eventually, her dad stumbled upon a deserted campsite, well off any of the marked trails. Spent firewood and cooking supplies were strewn about. He recognized the wine bottle on the ground. The tent was unzipped, door flaps fluttering in the wind. With cautious steps, he approached and peeked inside. Everything was in disarray. He found Amelia’s camera still switched on and undamaged. He picked it up and began scrolling through the photos...