Starving: A Short Horror Story by Alyanna Poe

Johnny’s girlfriend hadn’t told him the name of the campground she was taking him to.

“Cannibal Falls,” read the sign they passed.

A shiver from the bottom of Johnny’s stomach to the back of his throat jolted him.

“Oh, are you cold, John?” Rebecca turned the heater up.

November was an odd time to go camping, Johnny thought. 

Snow littered the forest floor and painted the pine trees white. Even through his parka, Johnny could feel the chill trying to reach him, touching him with icy fingers. 

They set up camp in a small grove of trees with the least snow on the ground. The pain in Johnny's fingers and toes told him it was going to be a long night. Sitting on a tree stump next to his girlfriend, he watched the fire as the sun set.

"You know why they call it Cannibal Falls?" Rebecca asked.

He didn't know, and he had a feeling he didn't want to. 

"A group of people here resorted to cannibalism after a tragic plane crash," she said, smiling. The fire glinted in her dark eyes, the flickering flame stretching and contorting her features. 

Johnny nodded, swallowing a suddenly bitter sip of tea. 

He didn't speak, and neither did Rebecca, so they sat in silence as the fire burned out. Slowly, they each found their way to their respective sleeping bags, and Johnny lie staring at the top of their tent as Rebecca fell asleep. 

Cannibals, he thought, chuckling to himself.

At some point, Johnny slipped into sleep, curled around himself to keep warm. 

"Johnny," Rebecca whispered. 

His eyes fluttered open, the skin on his face cold. 

She was holding a knife. 

This was all the information Johnny needed to run out of the tent. 

Through the moonlit forest, through glittering snow, Johnny ran as Rebecca called after him. Avoiding tree trunks and branches, Johnny put a good distance between him and his girlfriend. Even when he couldn't hear her screaming anymore, he didn't want to take a chance, and ran further into the night. 

Jumping over a fallen tree, a pain like none other he'd felt before assaulted his leg. 

Falling in a heap, Johnny screamed, clutching at his foot. 

A bear trap.

It had clamped over his ankle, and Johnny was certain he was more likely to sprout wings and fly than to get the damn thing open. Thinking quickly, he tied his scarf tightly around his ankle. He curled into the fetal position, his mind a wreck. Pain reverberated through his body with every pound of his heart, but as the fear he felt subsided, exhaustion took over.

And Johnny fell asleep.

...

The morning sun glared off the snow, waking him from a fitful, survival-type sleep. 

Looking at his foot in the beartrap, Johnny realized he couldn't feel it anymore because it wasn't attached. He yanked his leg back, snapping the small bits of skin which clung to his severed foot and cried out. 

The cold wind tore through him like razor blades, and despite all the blood in the snow, the first thing on his mind was his rumbling stomach. 

Johnny, with the last bit of strength he had, reached for his foot. 

...

Rebecca, with tears in her eyes, got in her truck. Forestry services said they would keep an eye out for Johnny but it was a large forest. Looking over at the knife on the passenger seat, she wished she'd at least put a bow on her boyfriend's anniversary gift. 

***

Follow up next week for part two...