WiNK

Now, this is a story all about how my life kinda got flipped-turned upside down for a couple minutes and I'd like to take probably around a minute just sit right there or don't if you don't want to and I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called There's a Bear (in my cabin.)

Was that not some smooth writing? I've been told I have a way with words, what can I say. But seriously, this is actually a story about one fateful morning. What happens next will shock you. How long ago was this? I don't quite remember, probably 2 or 3 years ago. It doesn't really matter, just know I was around 12-13.

At the time of the incident, I was at Stanford Sierra Camp, which is a family camp run by the students of Stanford, on the shore of Lake Tahoe in a pretty remote part of Northern California. My family has gone there several years for a week and we stay in a cabin with a multitude of other relatives and friends.

The stage is set - it's about 6:30am and I'm the only one awake, sitting downstairs on the couch, on my iPad. Lounging on the couch, without a care in the world. My biggest focus was taking home the dub in Head Soccer. I had no idea what was approaching me. Second by second, what was slowly lumbering towards me behind the cover of the walls that I thought were there to protect me from the harsh elements of the wild.

Slowly the door began to creak open, wider and wider. There was a second where I was boggled as to what could be causing this, however, soon enough it became apparent.

A small, black head started poking through the doorway and soon enough, a fully-grown black bear was standing in the doorway of the cabin. It could've been 10 years, it could've been 10 seconds, all I remember is staying, absolutely, positively, still. Life slowed down before me, everything was moving in slow motion. The bear looked around, totally at ease; it was a pretty chill bear. He was obviously looking for food, and based on that fact that I'm writing this article right now, he did not see me as an adequate source of food.

After what seemed like ages, the bear grabbed a plastic cooler and made its way swiftly out of the cabin. I immediately ran to the door, locking it, and ran up the stairs to my parents' room to tell them what had just occurred. At first they thought I was dreaming -- well, obviously I mean who would believe that? I led them downstairs, and carefully we opened the door and peeked outside. Right next to the door was the cooler, ripped open, and further down the path was my friend the bear.

It turns out my uncle had left the cabin earlier and, not wanting to wake up everyone in the cabin, didn't close the door all the way, which led to the entrance of the bear.

Sooooo, that was that, that's the story of me being mauled to death by a rabid black bear. No, but really... then last year we went back there, we actually thought there was another bear chilling outside of our cabin, but it turns out what we were hearing was really just my grandma's snoring.