Pass it on – Tales from the AI Verse

“Pass It On”

Edited and expanded by Guy Serle

Ethan Reeves was living the dream—or at least, that’s what his followers thought. His online presence as “Wilderness Warrior” had earned him sponsorship deals, free gear, and an ever-growing audience. He spent his days unboxing the latest camping equipment, reviewing tents, knives, and survival gadgets, and crafting the perfect content for his eager viewers. 

Most of it was complete and utter nonsense. Anyone going into the woods with some of the gear he reviewed in glowing terms would find that out. It would be a painful and perhaps dangerous lesson, but hey, Ethan was already paid and that was their tough luck.

So when a mysterious package arrived from Nathan Wropter, another gear reviewer he had collabed with a few times, Ethan was intrigued. Nathan had gone quiet recently, his social media inactive for weeks. Ethan had tried calling, messaging—nothing. Now, out of nowhere, a package?

Inside, he found a tent, a sleeping bag, a battery-powered lamp, and a food cooler. A note was taped to the lamp:

“Just review it. And whatever you do—don’t ignore it. Afterwards, just pass it on”

Ethan laughed. Classic Nathan, always cryptic. Since he had no other reviews lined up, he decided to head into the woods that weekend.

The gear was of first rate quality and oddly easy to set up, despite having way too many parts. Each piece was labeled, not with numbers though, but names.

Bill. Bob. Neil. Danny…and Nathan

Weird. But the tent came together smoothly, snapping into place like it wanted to be built.

He cooked dinner over a small fire, recorded his thoughts for the review, then climbed into the sleeping bag, switching off the lamp.

That’s when the screams started.

Distant at first. A sharp, echoing wail rippling through the trees. Then came the cries, voices overlapping in agony, pleading in garbled whispers.

Ethan’s heart pounded. He fumbled for the lamp, flicking it back on.

Silence.

He sat up, staring into the dark corners of the tent. The wind outside had stopped. The night felt wrong. He turned the lamp off again.

The screaming returned instantly. Closer. Louder. Raw.

His breath hitched as he turned the lamp back on—dimmer this time.

Cold sweat slicked his back. He tried to rationalize it. Maybe it was a prank? Some weird audio embedded in the gear?

Another test. Light off.

Agonized shrieks ripped through the night. Closer now, like something was just outside the tent.

Panic clawed at his throat as he scrambled for the lamp, switching it on again. Even dimmer. The glow barely lit his hands.

One more time.

He swallowed hard, hands trembling as he turned it off.

The screams vanished.

Silence.

For a moment, he thought it was over.

Then, out of the darkness, came breathing.

Right next to his ear.

Ethan gasped, hitting the lamp in desperation. It flickered, then flared to life…brighter than it ever had even with a full battery—

A skeletal figure stood over him.

Tattered flesh clung to its bones. Empty sockets bore into him as it loomed in the dim glow. Its jaw unhinged, revealing rotting, jagged teeth stretched into a grin.

“Wasting your life, Ethan.” The voice was like cracking wood, grinding bone.

Ethan’s body locked in terror.

“Playing in the dirt. Lying for your own gain. In MY forrest. The history of this place is bathed in blood. HUMAN blood…animal blood, the life of the forrest is covered in pain and suffering and you denigrate it with insipid reviews of camping gear? You don’t belong here.”

The figure crouched, its stench filling Ethan’s lungs.

“Go back to your world. Stay out of ours. And until you do… I will be with you. Watching. Waiting. Until you pass it on.”

The hand with its rotted remaining flesh reached toward Ethan just as the lamp winked out.

Ethan screamed. He cowered waiting for that cold touch. It never came. He opened his eyes but could see nothing in the pitched black inside the tent. He reached for the lamp, but couldn’t think of any way he would turn it on or even touch it and slowly withdrew his trembling fingers.

At dawn, he crawled out of the tent. He hadn’t slept at all no matter how tightly he had kept his eyes shut. He stood there for a moment, lightly swaying from how tired he was. 

As he disassembled the tent, he noticed there was a piece he didn’t recall seeing before with a tag on it that read, “Ethan.” He finally understood what it meant and that each piece represented a person who had needed to be taught a lesson. He wondered if any had defied the horror in the woods and what the consequence for that person would have been.

He shuddered and carefully placed the tent, the sleeping bag,  and everything else back into the packaging that he thought he had thrown away, but was now waiting for each piece, sliding back into place exactly as he remembered taking it out.

Once home, he boxed up the gear, attached a note, and sent it off to another influencer.

The note he attached read:

“Wilderness Warrior is done. The outdoors aren’t for me anymore. Once you get this package—just review it. And whatever you do… don’t ignore it and then…pass it on”

The End