Dear diary, My hands are shaking so badly, I don't know if I can write in you today. I was so scared last night. I'm still trembling.

Maybe I should start at the beginning. You know my friends Chip and Shawn and I have been talking about camping out in Full Moon Woods for nearly a year. Well, last night we finally did it.

What a mistake!

We thought it was going to be cool. We loaded all our gear into my dad's van, and he dropped us off at the dirt path that leads into the woods.

"Stick to the path, Alex," Dad called. "It will lead you to the creek. I'll pick you up right here tomorrow morning." The tires spun in the dirt as he drove away.

It was a cloudy afternoon. As soon as we stepped into the woods, it grew even darker. Our backpacks were bulging. And the canvas tent weighed a ton.

But we didn't mind. We were finally on our own in the woods. We walked quickly, following the path, making our way toward the creek.

Shawn started to sing an old Beatles song. Chip and I joined in. I loved the way our voices echoed off the trees.

"We should have brought our guitars," I said. All three of us play guitar, and we're starting a band.

Chip laughed. "Great idea, Alex. Where would we plug them in?"

"We'd need a very long extension cord!" I replied.

We were laughing and singing, enjoying the fresh cool air and the crunch of our shoes over the carpet of fat brown leaves.

The path ended, but we kept walking. I was pretty sure the creek was straight ahead. It grew even darker, and a cold wind swirled around us.

We walked for at least an hour before we realized we were totally lost.

"We should be able to hear the creek," Shawn said. He set down his backpack and stretched. "Where is it? Did we go in the right direction?"

"We'll never find it now," Chip sighed. "It's too dark."

A gust of wind sent dead leaves flying all around us. "Are there bears in these woods?" Shawn asked. He sounded a little frightened.

"No. But there are bunny rabbits that can chew you to bits!" I joked.

Chip laughed but Shawn didn't. I shivered and wrapped my yellow windbreaker tighter around me.

"Which way is the path?" Shawn asked, turning back. He pointed. "Is that the way we came? Maybe we should go back that way."

A hooting sound made me jump. A bird on a low tree branch. It hooted again, peering down at us.

"I don't want to go back," I said. "Let's keep going. The creek is this way. I know it."But Shawn and Chip wanted to stay right there and pitch the tent. It wasn't a bad place. A circle of tall grass surrounded by tall trees. So I agreed.

We tossed our backpacks in a pile and started to unroll the tent.

That's when I had the feeling for the first time'the feeling that we were being watched.I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. I heard a snapping sound behind us, like someone stepping on dry twigs.

I spun around. But I didn't see anyone. The trees tilted toward each other, as if closing in on us.

"What's your problem?" Shawn asked. "Did you see an animal?"

I laughed. "Yeah. A herd of buffalo."

We struggled with the tent. The gusting wind kept blowing it out of our hands. We finally got it to stand. But then the wind kept blowing out our campfire.

By the time we finished dinner, it was late. All three of us were yawning. My shoulders ached from carrying the heavy backpack.

We decided to climb into the tent and go to sleep. Shawn and Chip crawled inside. I started to follow them'then stopped.

I had the strange feeling again. The prickling on the back of my neck. Who was watching us?