SC EP:1198 What I saw fills me with dread

Mason writes "I'm not quite sure how to start this other than with my first encounter.

In the summer of 2013 or 2014, I went camping with my friend Perry and his father in upstate New York, we lived in Saranac Lake, which is 15 minutes down the road from Lake Placid where the 1980 miracle on ice occurred. Upstate New York is nothing like the city that the state is most famously known for, its mountainous, and covered in forests, and is also home to the Adirondack state park, where our little town was nestled.

We had gone with his nearly estranged father to a camping ground near a lake, which one I cannot remember, as the area is littered with them. What I do remember however is Perry's father had stopped us setting up camp to tell us a scary story, ironically enough about Sasquatch. He told us a story about it taking food and attacking campers, but the two of us both teenagers, blew off his story. I for one have always had an interest in Bigfoot, but growing up, every adult in my life had talked down to me or made fun of this interest, causing me to in a sense disengage from them when they attempted to talk shop with me. 

This camp ground was large, and had over 20 slots, and his father had splurged in an attempt to reconcile with Perry, opting to rent a site next to the lake. Between our campsite and every other was about 100 feet of thick woods, to allow privacy between the families camping. At the time I believe it was us, and two other families as it was nearing the end of summer, and they were a few sites away from us. The camping was fun, and nothing too exciting occurred other than the three of us learning to set up an over complicated bass pro tent for a small family. At around 10 o'clock that night give or take an hour we had been sitting around our campfire when Perry's father's demeanor changed. For most of this day we had all three been very excited and having fun, but at this point in the night he seemed to suddenly become very serious. He got us to clean up our campsite and pack up everything aside from a large cooler he had brought along. Then he had ushered us into the tent. Perry and I, both being 13 or 14, were still awake, laughing over dumb jokes and attempting not to wake Perry's father when we began to hear walking. At this time I had not been as well versed of the sounds of the woods as I would become later in life, but even then I could distinguish the sound of bipedal walking, especially when it sounded heavy. We heard something begin to approach our campsite, and at first I had wondered if it were a loon or heron which were all over the lake during the day. This however was quickly disproven when it approached our tent. Perry's face suddenly became filled with fear, fear which matched the sudden sinking feeling growing in my chest and stomach. I had turned slightly to my left, onto my back, as I was closest to the side this unknown had approached, and something inside me demanded I not have my back to whatever this was. We sat there for what felt like forever, but could only have been a minute, when the side of the tent began to push in slowly, what was pushing it in has never left me. What I can only describe as a poorly outlined hand had pushed in the side of the tent. The tent wall had bulged inwards a good five or six inches and was starting to stretch as far inward as it could before the tent began to bend. The hand itself reminded me of my fathers hand, he is a man of 6 feet and over 250 pounds, and had hands that remind me of the cartoon character wreck it Ralph, or more accurately like a baseball glove. What shocked me most of all was that this hand seemed to be double or triple the size of my father's hands. 

I believe if it were not for what happened next, it may have kept moving its hand further. Perry's father actively spoke in his sleep, a quirk of his that I at the time did not know. He had said something quiet, but just loud enough that it caused this hand to pull away. It was at this moment that the air began to feel electrified, like we had done something wrong, and the fear in my body then and even now rewriting this spiked. The woods had gone deadly silent, the only sound we could hear was the water from the lake make ten feet from our tent. 

We froze, Perry and I had lain as flat as possible to avoid bringing attention to ourselves, and were doing our best to slow our breathing, to keep quiet. Perry's father however had mumbled something else, and Perry decided he would attempt to wake him. It half worked, as his father seemed to hear Perry whispering to him, because the next thing I knew his father chuckled and said "You're trying to scare me for the story aren't you? Not gonna work" and moments later, his father was once again asleep.

As he spoke, we heard and felt the steps from earlier walk away from us, further into our campsite. We had pitched our tent on the edge of the site because a large picnic table sat in