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Terror – The first night in a tent

In a place where the foxes might wish you „goodnight“, we put up our tent high up on a slope. A gust of wind would have blown it from the slope but we were happy that it stood at all, so we climbed inside. A wet cold seeped out of the ground. It was our first night in a tent: and because we were 12 year old whippersnappers, we thought everything was as it should be and screeched with enthusiasm. We lay back to back like two wooden boards. The cold crept into the bones; and we were eventually silent, because we couldn’t say another word without our teeth chattering.

The moon peeped out between the forest mountains and in the fading light, I saw a man walking towards our tent. He was still a long way away. His outline was blurred by the mist which spookily covered the ground. I was so frightened to the bone, that I was staring at the appearance and could not even move my little finger. The wind played a game with the mist and the grass, which swayed in the moonlight and changed their shape. The shape soon seemed to change into a giant mountain spirit which was in the process of marching over to the tent. Then it diminished and seemed to be a little evil man who silently crept towards us „Rolf" – I finally managed to mutter the name of my friend. „A man!" I squawked like a bird. Rolf, not worried in the slightest, was of the reasonable opinion that I had had a nightmare. „Where?". It sounded coolly casual and sleepy. It could only be the reaction of a man who is used to robbers creeping around by wind and rain while sleeping in the open. Rolf was this type of person. He rolled over and threw a look outside, „I don’t see any man“, he murmured, obviously relived.

His calmness seemed to be catching. Maybe the whole thing was just a bad dream? However, the man stood there threateningly and full of life that I tensed up once again. “He’s coming! Can’t you see him, Rolf?" I whispered. We lay with our heads together. Rolf peeked out attentively in the same direction. A bolt of fear shook through his body and I knew that he had seen the man too. „He’s coming towards us!" said Rolf in a low voice, and now he squawked like a bird. „Be quiet! Maybe he will walk on by if he doesn’t hear us!" It was a pathetic argument. We stared so long that your eyes started to water. It seemed like hours to us, that the man stood nailed to the spot and then came gradually 2 or 3 steps closer.

The moon faded. In the misty grey the colours turned matt. The first sleepy bird twitter came out of the valley and the sky hung over the slope with a mild light – The man bent over as if he wanted to slowly straighten himself up and a large drop of water fell from his nose. I stared wildly at the man, pushed my head out and the stretched out fingers of my hand darted through the grass like a sword. In a rage, I pulled a stem of grass out of the ground and held it up triumphantly. „Here, Rolf! Here is the man" I shouted into the morning air. As we looked at the man more closely, we discovered he was a sheaf of corn. „Wild corn", said Rolf adeptly. Our view fell on the sunny heights beyond the valley; we had survived our first night in a tent!