Holy crap. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m unarmed and who knows how deep and far into this tunnel. But surely, if there were bears, I would have come across them already, wouldn’t I? Heart racing, I feel torn. Go back while the going’s good and get a damn shot of the Falls? Or explore on and find out just where this bizarre, smooth passageway goes? My inner rebel takes my fear and beats it to death before it can take ahold and destroy my Halloween adventure.

I’ve come this far without incident—I might as well go on. Soon the cave seems to bottom out and widen into a larger cavern. My phone light isn’t powerful enough to see further than a few feet, but there’s space all around me now, and I can no longer reach the cold, stone walls. “You’re okay,” I whisper. “Just keep the light ahead and watch your feet.”

A deep and rumbling growl fills my ears and my heart bunny-hops in my chest. I can almost feel my life leave my body. Oh no. Dear God, No! I freeze as still as a statue, my phone still grasped firmly in hand. Every muscle in my body quakes with terror. I’m fucked. I’m so very, very fucked! I’m going to get mauled, eaten, and shit out by a fucking black bear! What a way to go. Seriously. Fuck my life.

So much for my new beginning. I’m going to die here in West Virginia, just like my parents, and I’ll never see New Orleans. I’ll never take another photo again. This is my curtain call. I hear the distinct sound of heavy footfalls on the earth, and in a sheer moment of panic I lumber backward. Something crunches horrifically underfoot, and I stumble right onto my ass. A shriek escapes me as I fall and it’s amplified by the cavern, echoing in a mockery of my ungracious stumble.

I scramble backward and raise my phone before me like a shield of light. There’re bones scattered all over the ground. Lots and lots of bones. And that cracking sound? A skull of some description that I just crushed with my boot. In the shadows beyond the reach of my pitiful light, I see a great lumbering shape. There is no mistaking the territorial huffing and low rumble of the bear as it ambles forward, closing in for the kill.

This is it. This is how I die. The bear draws nearer. It’s so close I smell its breath now. There’s nowhere to go. I can’t outrun a bear. For a split-second I contemplate grabbing a broken bone and attempting to defend myself, but this beast is massive, and I just waltzed into its home. It’s pissed. Even if I managed the odd stab or two, it’d be like tossing stones into the Grand Canyon. It probably wouldn’t even feel it and then it’d gore my throat anyway.

It roars suddenly and its spittle flies at my face, its rancid breath blows my hair over my shoulder. I can’t prevent the strangled scream that tears forth from my throat as I realize the bear’s mouth is wide enough to just bite my face off.

A bloodcurdling screech vibrates through my soul, ricocheting off the rock walls to bounce around painfully in my skull. It’s so shrill and high-pitched that it could be ultrasonic. In confusion and agony, I drop my phone and plaster my hands to my ears, protecting them from the abominable sound.

The bear shakes its head from side to side in the darkness, illuminated only by my discarded phone. It roars in retaliation, but a heartbeat later a great black shadow slams into the beast—knocking him sideways and across the cavern.

What the fuck was that? My guts twist inside me as whatever it was that barreled into the bear shrieks again. My head swims, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight against the pain. I feel warmth trickle from my ears and between my fingers. I know with mortifying certainty that it’s blood. Bones skitter in all directions as the two creatures fight, and I turn my face away, but then it hits me. Now is my chance. Maybe I can make a run for it while they’re occupied?

Steeling my courage, I scramble to my feet and bolt haphazardly into the darkness, blind without my phone. It’s live or die, I must take the risk. But my ears ring, and I have no idea in which direction I’m headed. I just run, hands outstretched before me, and pray to God that I make it out of here alive. Maybe West Virginia isn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe I should count myself lucky to be breathing and able to stand on my own two feet? Maybe chasing a dream was the dumbest thing I ever did. But I don’t have time to mull the thought over, because in the next two seconds my already dark and terrifying world comes to a bone-grinding halt. One moment I’m pelting through the inky gloom for my life, and the next—nothing.