I have always loved walking in the woods.
There was something about the quiet, the way the trees seem to
close in around you, blocking out the rest of the world.
It felt like my own little secret place.
Jax, my German Shepherd, felt the same way.
He'd always pull on his leash, eager to explore every smell and
rustle. It was just our routine.
Every evening we'd head out to those trails and it always felt
so peaceful. But something was different that
Monday night. I couldn't quite put my finger
on it at first, but you know, it's like that gut feeling you
get when something just feels wrong.
It was too quiet. Usually I could hear crickets
chirping or leaves rustling, but tonight there was nothing.
Just the sound of my own footsteps crunching on the path
and Jax's paws padding beside me.
What's up, buddy? I asked, glancing down at Jax.
He was walking slower, his ears perked up and his nose sniffing
the air like he caught a scent of something that didn't belong.
Jax never acted like this. He was usually excited, darting
from one tree to another, but now he was stiff, his tail
lowered. It made me uneasy, and I found
myself slowing down too, my eyes scanning the woods around us.
Then I saw it, or I think I did. Just a shadow at first, a shape
that seemed out of place among the trees.
It was standing maybe 50 feet away, just beyond the edge of my
vision. I squinted, trying to make it
out. Was it a deer?
The shape was all wrong, though. Its legs were too long, and the
way it stood there so still, something about it made my
stomach twist. Jack saw it too.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his lips pulling back in a low
growl. I'd never heard him growl like
that before, not even at the stray cats that sometimes
wandered onto the porch. I felt my heart start to beat
faster. I told myself it was just a
deer. Maybe it was sick or hurt, but
there was this heavy feeling in my chest that said it was
something else. I took a step backward, pulling
gently on Jax's leash. Come on boy, let's go home.
I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.
I didn't want to turn my back on whatever it was, so I started
walking backward, my eyes locked on that strange shape.
Jax kept growling, his eyes never leaving it.
The figure moved, not much, just a little twitch, like it had
suddenly noticed us noticing it. That was enough for me.
I turned and started walking faster, almost dragging Jax
along. My heart was pounding, and I
could feel the sweat starting to beat on my forehead.
I didn't want to run. I didn't want whatever it was to
think we were prey, but I couldn't help it.
I broke into a jog. Jack's keeping pace beside me,
his growl turning into a series of short, anxious barks.
We finally made it back to the cabin, and I slammed the door
shut behind us. I locked it, my hands trembling
a bit, and leaned against it for a moment, just trying to catch
my breath. Jax was still at my feet,
staring at the door, his ears flat against his head.
What was that? I muttered to myself, trying to
laugh it off, but it came out shaky.
I walked over to the window and peeked out, but there was
nothing there, Just the dark shapes of the trees, the forest
looking as normal as it always did.
I wanted to believe that it was just my imagination, that maybe
I'd let the shadows and the quiet get to me, but Jax
wouldn't leave the door, and that feeling in my gut hadn't
gone away. That night I tried to sleep, but
every time I closed my eyes I saw that figure standing there,
just beyond the trees. I couldn't shake the image of
how still it was, how wrong it looked.
I woke up in a sweat more than once, my ears straining for any
noise outside, half expecting to hear something scratching at the
door. Jack stayed by my bed all night.
His ears perked, and every so often he'd let out a low growl
even though there was nothing I could see or hear.
By morning I'd convinced myself that it had to be some trick of
the light, maybe a tree that had looked like a figure in the
dark, or maybe even just my tired mind playing tricks on me.
But Jack's reaction was what kept bothering me.
Dogs don't imagine things like that.
I decided we'd stay away from the woods for a few days, just
to be safe. Maybe it really was just a deer,
and maybe it was gone now, but I couldn't shake the feeling that
something had been watching us, something that wasn't supposed
to be there. Honestly, I didn't want to think
about it anymore. I just wanted things to go back
to normal. After the other night, I told
myself I'd stay away from the woods for a while.
I mean, it just seemed smart, right?
But Jax had other ideas. He was restless, pacing back and
forth in front of the door like he was waiting for someone to
knock. He wouldn't settle down no
matter what I tried. Treats, his favorite toy, even
letting him out in the yard. He just kept scratching at the
door and whining. I sighed, rubbing the back of my
neck. All right, all right.
I muttered. I didn't really want to go back
out there, but Jax wasn't giving me much of A choice.
I figured maybe just a short walk, you know, just to calm him
down. I'd stay right near the edge of
the woods, no going deep into those dark trails this time.
It was just before sunset when I finally grabbed his leash and we
stepped outside. The air was cooler and the sky
had that orange, pink glow that normally made everything look so
beautiful. But today I couldn't really
enjoy it. I couldn't shake that feeling
like someone was watching us. I tried to tell myself it was
just in my head, but you know how sometimes you just know
something's wrong? Yeah, that's how it felt.
We stuck close to the edge of the woods, the cabin still
visible behind us. Jack seemed calmer, which made
me relax a little too, at least for a moment.
He trotted along, his ears up, sniffing here and there like
nothing had ever happened. I almost started to convince
myself that maybe I'd overreacted before, that
whatever I saw had just been a weird trick of the light.
But then I smelled it. This horrible stench, like
something rotting, came out of nowhere.
It made my stomach turn, and I had to cover my nose with my
sleeve. Jack stopped too, his hackles
rising, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
That's when I knew we weren't alone.
I turned slowly, my eyes scanning the trees.
The shadows seemed thicker now, like they were hiding something.
And then I saw it again, that same figure, only this time it
was closer. I could see more of it.
Tall, too tall, with limbs that seemed stretched out, like it
was trying to be something it wasn't.
My heart started to pound in my chest.
Who's there? I called, my voice sounding a
lot braver than I felt. The figure didn't move, it just
stood there, staring. And then it spoke.
Jax, Jax, it said in my voice. I swear I felt my blood turn to
ice. It wasn't just that it was my
voice. It was the way it said it.
Flat, empty, like it had heard me say it before and was trying
to copy it but couldn't quite get it right.
Jax barked, loud and angry, and I didn't need any more
convincing. I yanked on his leash and
started backing away, my eyes never leaving.
That thing. The figure took a step forward,
and that's when I saw its face. It was pale, almost like skin
stretched too tight over a skull and its eyes.
They were hollow, just dark holes that seemed to swallow the
light. My heart felt like it was going
to explode out of my chest. I turned, pulling jacks along,
and we ran. I could hear it behind us, the
sound of twigs snapping, those long legs moving too fast.
I didn't dare look back. The cabin wasn't far, but it
felt like it took forever to get there.
My feet pounded against the ground, my breath coming in
ragged gasps. Jax was barking non-stop and I
could hear it. That thing still calling out
Jax. Jax in that awful hollow voice.
We finally reached the cabin and I threw the door open,
practically shoving Jax inside before slamming it shut behind
us. I locked it, my hands shaking so
badly I could barely get the bolt in place.
Jax was still barking, his eyes fixed on the door, and I could
hear it outside, the soft scraping sound of something, no,
someone dragging their fingers across the wood.
Let me in, Tom, it whispered, and I felt my stomach drop.
It knew my name. I backed away from the door, my
heart hammering in my ears. Jax growled, his teeth bared,
and I stood there, frozen, listening as the thing outside
kept whispering. It was using my voice again, but
now it was pleading, like it thought I'd actually open the
door. Let me in, let me in.
I didn't sleep that night. I sat in the living room, the
shotgun I kept in the closet resting across my lap, even
though I wasn't sure it would do any good.
Jack stayed by the door, growling every so often.
When the whispering started up again.
It circled the cabin, tapping at the windows, the walls, trying
every door like it was testing for a weak spot.
It wasn't until dawn, when the first light started to
breakthrough the trees, that everything went quiet.
The whispers stopped, and the scratching faded away.
Jax finally relaxed, his ears perking up, and I let out a
breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
I got up, my legs feeling like Jelly, and peeked through the
curtains. Nothing.
Just the forest, looking as normal as ever.
But I knew better now. I knew that thing was out there,
waiting, watching. I wasn't sure what it was, but I
knew one thing for certain. I couldn't stay here, not
anymore. I had to leave, and soon
whatever was out there, it wasn't going to stop.
And honestly, I didn't want to be around to find out what would
happen if it got in. After what happened that night,
I knew I should have packed up and left right away.
But you know, life doesn't always work out as planned.
There were a lot of things to think about.
Where would I go? How fast could I pack everything
up? Plus, Jax had barely settled
down. He'd been on edge since that
night, and honestly, so had I Every little Creek in the house
had me jumping out of my skin. By the next day, Jax had become
impossible to handle. He kept whining at the door,
scratching at it like there was something out there that he
needed to get to. I tried everything to distract
him, but nothing worked. He was fixated on getting out,
and it broke my heart to see him so worked up.
Eventually, I gave in. Maybe a quick walk right by the
edge of the woods would calm him down.
I grabbed the leash, my heart already pounding just at the
thought of stepping outside again.
Jax barked, excited, his tail wagging like we were going on
the best adventure ever. I couldn't help but force a
smile. At least one of us was still
having fun. It was getting dark, but there
was still enough light to see by.
The sky was that deep blue just before the stars come out and
the trees cast long, stretching shadows across the ground.
I kept close to the cabin, promising myself we'd stay
within sight of it. Jack seemed a little better now
that we were outside, sniffing the ground and moving with
purpose, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was
waiting just beyond the trees. We hadn't been out for more than
10 minutes when I heard it. A bark somewhere deeper in the
woods. My heart skipped a beat, and I
turned to look at Jax. He was right there beside me,
his ears perked up, staring into the dark.
The bark echoed again, and my stomach twisted into a knot.
It sounded just like Jax. Who's there?
I called, my voice shaky. I knew it was a stupid question
nobody would answer, and I wasn't sure I even wanted them
to. The forest stayed silent, but
then I heard it. A rustle, the crunch of leaves
under foot, like something was moving closer.
My hands tightened around Jax's leash and I could feel my pulse
racing. I had to get us out of there.
Then I heard my own voice calling out, clear as day.
Jax, come here. It was coming from deeper in the
woods, the words floating through the trees like they were
being carried by the wind. The tone was all wrong, flat and
hollow, like someone had taken my voice and drained all the
emotion out of it. Jack started barking, and I
nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned, ready to drag him back
to the cabin, but before I could take a step, something moved
between the trees. It stepped out from behind a
thick trunk, and I felt my breath catching my throat.
It was tall, taller than any person should be, and its skin
was pale, almost glowing in the dim light.
Its face, well, it looked like it was trying to be my face, but
it wasn't right. The features were stretched,
like someone had taken a mask of my face and pulled at the edges.
Its eyes were empty, just dark holes that seemed to swallow the
light. My entire body went cold.
I didn't think, I just moved. I yanked on Jax's leash, turning
and running as fast as I could. Jax followed, barking like mad,
and I could hear the thing behind us, the sound of branches
snapping, its heavy footsteps thudding against the ground,
getting closer and closer. My lungs burned and my legs felt
like they could give out at any moment, but I couldn't stop.
I had to get us back to the cabin.
The door was Insight, just a few more steps.
I practically threw myself against it, fumbling with the
handle, and shoved it open, Jack starting inside ahead of me.
I slammed the door shut and locked it, my hands shaking so
badly I could barely get the latch to click in place.
Outside I could hear it, the soft scraping of something
against the wood, followed by that awful voice again,
whispering my name. Tom let me in.
It was so quiet, like it was trying to be gentle, but there
was something underneath it, something that made my skin
crawl. Jax was barking at the door, his
teeth bared, but I could tell he was scared too.
I backed away, my heart pounding in my ears, and grabbed the
shotgun from the corner of the room.
I didn't know if it would do anything, but I had to have
something, anything between US and that thing.
I sat there, the shotgun in my lap, listening as the thing
outside moved around the cabin. It tapped at the windows,
scraped its fingers against the walls, all the while whispering.
Let me in, Tom, let me in. I felt like I was losing my
mind. It knew my name.
It knew my voice. The whispers didn't stop until
the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains.
It was like a switch had been flipped.
Everything went quiet, and Jax finally stopped barking.
His ears still perked up, but no longer growling.
I took a shaky breath and got up, peeking through the window.
There was nothing there, just the woods, quiet and still, like
nothing had ever happened. But I knew better now.
I wasn't safe here, not anymore. Whatever that thing was, it
wasn't going to leave me alone. I had to get out, and soon,
before it found a way inside. I knew I couldn't stay in that
cabin any longer. It was crazy, actually, that I
even stayed one more night after what had happened.
Jax and I were both wrecked. Neither of us slept much at all,
and every time the wind made the house creak, I'd jump like I was
expecting that thing to break down the door.
When morning finally came, I didn't waste time.
I started packing right away. I grabbed some clothes, my phone
charger, whatever food I had left, and anything I thought I
might need. I was trying not to panic, but
honestly, I could feel my hands shaking the entire time.
Jax was sticking close to me, his tail down and his ears
twitching at every little sound. It was like he knew what was
coming too, like he knew we had to get out before it got dark
again. I had almost everything ready,
but of course, nothing's ever that easy, right?
I couldn't find my truck keys. I searched everywhere, every
drawer, every pocket, even the cushions on the couch, but they
were just gone. My heart was racing and I could
feel the sweat on the back of my neck.
I had to get out of here. The sun was already getting
higher, and I knew I didn't have much time before it started to
set. That's when I heard it.
A faint tapping coming from one of the windows.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
Jack started growling low, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
Slowly, I turned toward the sound.
There, standing just outside the window, was the figure.
Its face was pressed up against the glass, and even though the
window was dirty and cracked, I could still see those hollow
eyes staring in at me. It didn't move, it just stood
there, tapping 1 long Bony finger against the glass over
and over again. I backed away, my mind racing.
Where were my keys? I had to find them.
I had to get us out before that thing tried to come inside.
Jax was barking now, his hackles raised, but the figure didn't
react. It just kept tapping its head
tilting slightly like it was curious.
And then I heard it speak, and my heart nearly stopped.
Tom let me in. It was my voice again, but
slower, stretched out like it was trying to learn how to sound
real. Let me in, Tom.
I felt my stomach twist, and I knew I couldn't waste any more
time. I ran to the kitchen, and there,
sitting on the counter, were the keys.
I grabbed them, almost dropping them because my hands were
shaking so badly, and then I turned to Jax.
Come on, boy, we're getting out of here.
I didn't look back at the window, I didn't want to see if
it was still there. I just opened the door and ran
for the truck, Jax right beside me.
The woods were quiet, but it was that too quiet kind of feeling
like everything was holding its breath, waiting to see what
would happen. I got to the truck, fumble with
the keys, and finally got the door open.
Jax jumped in and I slammed the door behind him, running around
to the driver's side. I could feel it, like eyes
watching me, something moving just out of sight.
I tried to keep my focus, to not let the panic take over.
As I got in and started the engine, I caught a glimpse of
movement in the rear view mirror.
The figure was there, at the edge of the trees, just standing
and watching. Its head was tilted to the side,
and even though it had no real eyes, I could feel its gaze like
it was trying to burn a hole right through me.
I threw the truck into drive and we tore out of there, the tires
kicking up gravel as I speed down the dirt Rd.
Jax was panting, his eyes wide, and I reached over to pat him,
trying to calm both of us down. It's OK, boy.
I whispered, even though I wasn't sure if that was true.
We're getting out, we're not going back.
I didn't look in the mirror again until we were miles away,
the cabin far behind us. When I finally glanced back, all
I could see was the road stretching out, empty and quiet,
like nothing had ever happened. But I knew better.
I knew that whatever that thing was, it was still there,
waiting. We drove until we reached town,
and I pulled over in a parking lot, my hands still shaking on
the wheel. I took a deep breath, trying to
steady myself, and looked at Jack's.
He seemed calmer now. His ears perked up, but not in
that scared way. I reached over and scratched
behind his ears. We made it, buddy.
I said, and I tried to smile, though it felt shaky.
We're not going back there, not ever.
As I sat there, the sun finally breaking through the morning
fog, I knew I'd made the right choice.
Whatever was in those woods, it wasn't something I could
understand. It wasn't something I could
fight. The only thing I could do was
get away and never look back. And so that's what I did.
I started the truck again and drove away, leaving the cabin,
the woods, and all those terrifying memories behind.
But even as the miles stretched on, I couldn't shake the feeling
that it wasn't over. That somewhere out there, that
thing was still watching, still waiting.
And I knew deep down that no matter how far I went, I'd
always feel those hollow eyes on me, just out of sight, hiding in
the shadows. I wasn't sure what I expected
when I suggested we all meet up at Aunt Margaret's old lodge,
but I wanted it to be nice. You know, maybe even a little
nostalgic. It had been years since anyone
set foot in that place, and even longer since I'd seen my cousin
Amelia and our friend Sarah. Plus Marcus, Amelia's fiance,
seemed excited about a weekend away.
It sounded perfect, or at least that's what I kept telling
myself. The road up to the lodge was
long and winding, a narrow path that snaked through tall,
shadowy Pines. The sun was already slipping
behind the mountains by the time we got there, turning the sky a
dull grey. I remember how Amelia's eyes lit
up when she saw the place. Wow, it's just like I remember.
She said, smiling as she climbed out of the car.
It was one of those smiles that looked forced, though, like she
was trying a little too hard to be happy about it.
Yeah, well, I hope you remember the inside being a little
warmer. I joked, fumbling for the keys.
The wind had picked up, and it was biting cold.
The lodge looked even more rundown than I'd imagined, with
vines creeping up the stone walls and the windows clouded
over with dust. I tried not to think about how
Aunt Margaret used to sit by those very windows, staring out
at the woods. The inside wasn't much better.
Dust covered almost everything, and the air smelled musty, like
old wood and forgotten memories. Still, there was something
comforting about the place. Maybe it was just the thought
that we were all here together, like old times.
I wanted to believe that this weekend could bring us closer,
that maybe we could forget all the things that had pushed us
apart. Sarah wasn't as convinced.
She wrinkled her nose as she stepped inside, brushing her
blonde hair out of her face. Are we sure we want to stay
here? It's kind of creepy.
She said, her voice echoing in the empty space.
Oh, come on. Marcus said, dropping their bags
on the floor with a thud. That's what makes it fun.
It's like our own little adventure.
He flashed a grin, the kind that Amelia always fell for, and I
could see her relax a bit. We spent the first night getting
settled in, cooking a simple dinner over the old stove and
laughing about the awkward drive up.
It felt good for a while. We even found an old radio and
Marcus managed to get it working, filling the lodge with
crackly tunes that made the place feel less empty.
But as the night wore on, I started feeling uneasy.
It wasn't anything obvious, just little things like the way the
shadows seemed to shift in the corners, or how the wind outside
sounded, almost like a voice whispering through the cracks in
the walls. I told myself I was just being
paranoid, that the lodge was old and my mind was playing tricks
on me. After everyone else went to bed,
I stayed up a little longer, wandering through the rooms just
to make sure everything was all right.
That's when I found the attic door.
It was at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar, like
someone had just been there. I don't know why, but something
about it made me stop. The door hadn't been open
earlier, I was sure of it. I hesitated, then pushed it
open, the hinges groaning loudly in the silence.
A narrow staircase LED up Into Darkness.
I should have just closed the door and gone to bed, but
instead I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen and made my way
up. The air grew colder with every
step, and the smell of dust and mildew made me cough.
The attic was cluttered with old furniture, boxes, and a lot of
things that looked like they hadn't been touched in years.
And then I saw it. An old journal sitting on top of
a wooden chest, half covered in cobwebs.
It had Aunt Margaret's name on it.
My heart started pounding as I picked it up, brushing away the
dust. I flipped through the pages, and
what I read made my stomach drop.
The entries were scattered, written in a shaky hand.
At first they were just about the lodge, how she loved the
quiet, how she enjoyed the solitude.
But then the tone shifted. She wrote about feeling watched,
about strange noises in the woods at night.
And a figure she called the Watcher, One of the last
entries, was almost unreadable, the word scrawled in a hurry.
The mist is back. I saw it moving through the
trees. I think it's getting closer.
I shut the journal, my hands trembling.
I wanted to believe it was just the ramblings of an old woman
who'd been alone for too long, but something about it felt
real, too real, and the uneasiness that had been gnawing
at me all night suddenly felt like fear.
I shoved the journal into my bag and headed back downstairs,
trying to shake off the feeling that I wasn't alone.
I forced myself to laugh at how ridiculous I was being.
It was just an old journal, just a bunch of stories.
But as I passed by the window in the hallway, I could have sworn
I saw something move out there in the dark.
A flash of white, like someone slipping between the trees.
I stopped, my breath catching in my throat, and stared out into
the night. Nothing.
Just the wind, just the shadows. I turned away, telling myself it
was nothing, but deep down I knew that something was wrong,
and whatever it was, it had only just begun.
I woke up to a sound I couldn't quite place, like a long, low
howl drifting through the air. I rubbed my eyes, trying to
convince myself it was just the wind, but something about it
made my skin crawl, like it was coming from deep in the forest,
from something that wasn't supposed to be there.
Marcus and Amelia were already up, their faces lit by the glow
of the fireplace in the living room.
Marcus was pacing, looking uneasy.
Did you hear that? He asked as soon as he saw me.
His voice was tight, like he was trying not to let the fear show.
I nodded, still half asleep, but the chill in the room made me
shiver. Probably just some animal.
I said, though I didn't quite believe it myself.
I wanted to keep everyone calm, even if I couldn't shake this
weird feeling that something was watching us.
Amelia sat curled up on the couch, her arms wrapped around
herself. It didn't sound like an animal.
She muttered. Her eyes were fixed on the
window, where the night outside seemed impossibly dark.
I could tell she was scared, but she was trying not to show it.
That's Amelia. Always the strong one, even when
she shouldn't have to be. Marcus finally stopped pacing
and sat down, running his hands through his hair.
Whatever it was, we're not going out there.
We stay put until morning. He said it like he was trying to
convince himself more than any of us.
Honestly, I was fine with that. The idea of stepping into that
darkness made my stomach turn. The wind picked up again, and
then I saw it. The mist.
It started slow, like a thin white fog rolling in from the
woods, but it grew thicker, like it was alive, creeping towards
the lodge, swallowing up everything in its path.
My heart started pounding as I watched it move closer, almost
like it knew we were here. The guise.
I said, pointing to the window. Amelia and Marcus turned to
look, and their faces went pale. The mist had reached the porch
now, swirling around the steps, pushing at the edges of the
door. It wasn't just fog, it had a
weight to it, something that made it feel wrong.
Sarah came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes.
What's going on? She asked, sounding half
annoyed, half groggy. She stopped short when she saw
the mist. What?
What is that? I didn't know how to answer her.
None of us did. It wasn't normal, that was for
sure. Marcus tried to keep calm, but I
could hear the edge of panic in his voice.
We stay inside, all right? We don't go out there, it'll
clear up. We huddled in the living room,
the fire crackling as the mist pressed against the windows like
it was trying to find a way in. The feeling of dread was so
thick I could barely breathe. I didn't know what was
happening, but I knew we weren't safe.
I could hear something else too, a faint whisper, like a voice
carried on the wind. It was so soft I almost thought
I imagined it, but when I looked at Marcus, I knew he heard it
too. He kept glancing at the door,
his eyes wide, like he was listening for something.
I wanted to tell him to stop, to snap out of it, but I didn't
know how. It felt like hours passed, just
sitting there, waiting. Every time I looked out the
window, the mist was still there, thicker now, swirling in
slow, eerie patterns. And then, just when I thought
things couldn't get worse, Marcus stood up.
I hear her, He whispered, his face blank, like he was in some
kind of trance. It's my mom.
She's out there. Marcus, no.
Amelia said, her voice cracking. She grabbed his arm, but he
shook her off. You don't understand, He said,
his eyes fixed on the door. She's calling for me, I have to
go. Panic flared in my chest.
Marcus, there's nothing out there.
It's just the mist, man, you're not thinking straight.
But he wouldn't listen. He was already moving to the
door, his hands fumbling with the lock.
I rushed to stop him, but it was too late.
He flung the door open and the mist poured in, cold and thick,
wrapping around us. I could barely see Marcus as he
stepped outside, his figure fading into the white Marcus.
Amelia screamed, but he was gone.
The mist swallowed him up, and then there was just silence.
The door banged shut and the room felt empty, like all the
warmth had been sucked out. Amelia collapsed to the floor,
sobbing, and I didn't know what to do.
I wanted to help, but I couldn't even think straight.
My heart was pounding and my head was spinning.
I kept staring at the door, half expecting Marcus to come back,
but deep down, I knew he wouldn't.
Sarah stood there, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.
What's happening? She whispered, her voice barely
audible. I didn't have an answer for her.
I didn't have an answer for any of us.
All I knew was that the mist was still out there, and whatever
had taken Marcus was far from done with us.
The next morning felt hollow without Marcus.
It was just me, Amelia, and Sarah now, and none of us knew
what to do. Amelia hadn't slept, She just
sat by the window all night, staring out into that endless
mist, her eyes puffy from crying.
I could tell she still believed Marcus would just walk back
through the door, like none of this had ever happened.
I wanted to tell her he wouldn't, but I couldn't bring
myself to say it. I mean, how could I?
I wasn't even sure what I believed.
Everything that had happened felt like a nightmare, like any
moment I'd wake up and we'd all be laughing by the fire again,
talking about dumb memories from when we were kids.
Hey. I said softly, stepping over to
her. You need to eat something,
Amelia, We've got to keep up our strength.
She didn't respond, just kept staring, her fingers clutching
the journal we'd found in the attic, the same one that had
somehow convinced her Marcus was still out there.
I glanced over at Sarah, who was sitting at the table, her head
resting in her hands. She looked up at me, her eyes
tired. We have to get out of here, she
said. We can't just sit here and wait.
That mist isn't natural. There's something wrong with
this place. I nodded.
She wasn't wrong. The mist had started to feel
like it was alive, like it was waiting for us to make a
mistake. I could almost feel it pressing
against the walls of the lodge, and every now and then I swore I
heard whispers just on the edge of my hearing.
I knew we needed to do something, but I didn't know
what. We need to figure out what this
thing is. I said, sitting down next to
Sarah. The journal.
Aunt Margaret wrote about this mist.
She called it the Watcher. And there's something about a
ritual. Maybe it's our only way out.
I didn't even know if I believed it myself, but we were running
out of options. Sarah frowned, looking over at
Amelia. Do you think maybe we could try
it? She asked, her voice hesitant.
I mean, I don't want to mess with anything we don't
understand, but if it's our only chance?
Amelia finally turned her head, her eyes bloodshot.
The watcher took Marcus. She said, her voice cracking.
If there's a way to get him back, I'll do it.
I'll do whatever it takes. Her fingers tightened around the
journal, and there was a look in her eyes that made me uneasy,
determined, but also desperate, like she was holding on to the
only bit of hope she had left. I understood how she felt, but
something about the idea of this ritual didn't sit right with me.
I didn't like messing with things we didn't understand.
Aunt Margaret's entries had been scattered, panicked, and
whatever she'd found clearly hadn't helped her.
I wanted to help Amelia, but I didn't want to lose her too.
Let me take a look at the journal again.
I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
We need to make sure we know what we're getting into before
we try anything. Amelia handed it over
reluctantly, her eyes never leaving the window.
I opened the journal, flipping through the pages.
The writing was messy, rushed, like Aunt Margaret had been
scared while she wrote it. She'd mentioned the Watcher
several times, always with this sense of dread, like she knew it
was coming for her. And then there were the
instructions, a list of things she'd gathered, symbols she'd
drawn. It all seemed like some sort of
protection spell. But there was one thing that
caught my eye. The price must be paid.
The Watcher takes what it is owed.
What does that mean? I muttered, more to myself than
anyone else. What?
Sarah asked, leaning over to look at the page.
I pointed at the line and she frowned.
The price? What kind of price?
I don't know, I admitted. But it doesn't sound good.
If we try this, we need to be ready for whatever happens.
Amelia stood up suddenly, her chair scraping loudly against
the floor. I don't care what the price is,
she said, her voice fierce. I'm getting Marcus back.
I'll go into the mist myself if I have to.
Amelia. No, I said quickly, standing 2.
We can't lose you too. We need to be smart about this.
But she shook her head, her expression set.
You don't understand, she said, her voice breaking.
He's out there and he's alone. I can't just sit here and do
nothing. She turned and grabbed her coat,
throwing it over her shoulders. Amelia.
I tried again, panic rising in my chest, but she was already at
the door, and before I could reach her, she was gone,
swallowed by the mist, just like Marcus.
Sarah and I stood there, stunned, the door still swinging
on its hinges. I felt like all the air had been
sucked out of the room, like I was suffocating.
Amelia was gone, Marcus was gone.
It was just me and Sarah now, and the walls of the lodge felt
like they were closing in. I shut the door, my hands
trembling, and turned to Sarah. We have to figure this out.
I said, my voice barely a whisper.
Before it takes us to. Sarah nodded, but I could see
the fear in her eyes. We will.
She said, her voice shaky. We have to.
But even as she said it, I could feel the weight of the mist
pressing in, and I wasn't sure if we'd ever make it out of this
place alive. I can't explain how empty the
lodge felt after Amelia left. It was just me and Sarah now,
and I could tell we were both struggling to hold it together.
Every creak of the old wood, every gust of wind against the
windows made me jump, and I could see Sarah glancing at me
for some kind of reassurance. I wanted to tell her everything
would be OK, but I couldn't bring myself to lie.
We spent the next few hours sitting in silence, the journal
spread out between us. I kept reading and rereading
Aunt Margaret's entries, hoping I'd find something we missed,
some clue that would explain what we were dealing with.
But it was all so vague, and the more I read, the more desperate
it sounded. The entry that really scared me
talked about the Watcher taking people who ventured into the
Mist. Aunt Margaret had written.
The Mist claims what it wants. Once you're in, you belong to
it. I didn't know if it was true,
but the idea of Marcus and Amelia out there, claimed by
this thing made my stomach twist.
Sarah broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
Do you think, Do you think there's any chance Amelia's
still OK? She looked at me, her eyes
filled with hope, and I wished I could say yes.
I don't know, I said honestly. But if there's any chance we can
help her, we've got to try. I hated how hollow my words
sounded. I didn't know what I was doing.
I was just a guy who'd wanted a nice weekend with his family.
Now everything was falling apart, and I felt completely
helpless. Sarah nodded, but I could see
her lip quivering. She looked down at the journal,
then back at me. What about that ritual, Do you
think it could work? I hesitated.
The ritual was risky. Something about it just didn't
feel right. Aunt Margaret had tried it, and
from what I could tell, it hadn't ended well for her.
But we didn't have many options left.
I think we need to at least try. I said finally.
If it doesn't work, then I don't know what else we can do.
We gathered what we could. The supplies listed in the
journal were things we found around the lodge.
Candles, matches, an old mirror, and some herbs that Aunt
Margaret had left in the kitchen.
I tried to ignore how my hands shook as I set everything up in
the middle of the living room. The mist was still outside,
pressing against the windows like it wanted in.
I tried not to look at it, but it was hard not to feel like it
was staring back at me, waiting for us to make a mistake.
I glanced at Sarah, who was holding one of the candles, her
face pale but determined. OK, I said, trying to steady my
voice. We're going to do this, and
whatever happens, we stick together.
No matter what we see or hear. We don't leave this room, all
right? Sarah nodded, but I could see
the fear in her eyes. OK, she whispered.
I lit the candles, the flames flickering as the cold air
seemed to press in on us. The journal said we had to
chance something. Words I didn't recognize, but I
tried my best to pronounce them. My voice sounded strange in the
quiet room, echoing off the walls.
At first, nothing happened. The candles flickered, the mists
stayed outside, and for a moment I thought maybe this was all
just a waste of time. But then the room seemed to
change. The air grew thicker, colder,
and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
Do you feel that? Sarah asked, her voice
trembling. I nodded, my mouth dry.
It felt like the walls were closing in, like the room itself
was shrinking. The shadows cast by the candles
seemed to grow, stretching across the floor and walls,
twisting into shapes that looked almost like people.
I tried to keep my focus on the ritual, but the whispers
started, soft at first, then growing louder, like a chorus of
voices all around us. I looked up and saw Sarah
staring at something behind me, her eyes wide with fear.
What is that? She whispered, her voice barely
audible. I turned, and my heart nearly
stopped. There, standing just beyond the
edge of the candlelight, was a figure.
It looked like Amelia, but there was something off.
Her eyes were blank, her face expressionless.
She just stood there, staring at us, and I felt my blood run
cold. Amelia.
I called out, my voice cracking, but she didn't respond.
She just stood there like a statue, her eyes fixed on me.
Sarah grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my skin.
That's not her, She whispered. That's not Amelia.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to reach out, to pull
her back to us, but deep down I knew Sarah was right.
This wasn't Amelia, it was something else, something that
had taken her form. The whispers grew louder,
echoing in my head, and I felt like I was going to lose it.
Suddenly, the candles went out, plunging us Into Darkness.
I heard Sarah gasp, her grip tightening on my arm.
I reached out, fumbling for the matches, but I couldn't see
anything. The mist had found its way
inside, wrapping around us, cold and suffocating.
I could hear Sarah's breathing fast and panicked, and I tried
to stay calm. We've got to stay together.
I said, but my voice felt weak, lost in the noise.
The whispers were everywhere now, and I could barely hear
myself think. And then, just as suddenly as it
started, everything stopped. The whispers faded, the mist
pulled back, and the candles flickered back to life.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light, and realized we were
alone. The figure Amelia, or whatever
it had been, was gone. I looked at Sarah, who was
shaking, tears streaming down her face.
I wanted to tell her it was going to be OK, that we were
safe now. But I couldn't because I knew
deep down that this wasn't over. The Watcher wasn't done with us
yet. I've always liked the kind of
quiet that falls over a forest. Not the peaceful kind, mind you,
but the kind that settles over everything, like the woods
themselves are holding their breath, waiting.
That's what I felt as Ryan and I pulled into the clearing at
Whiteclaw Forest, our tires crunching over fallen leaves and
gravel, the only sound around for miles.
The locals back in town had looked at us funny when we
mentioned our hunting trip. One old timer leaning against
the counter at the general store shook his head and muttered.
You boys don't know what's out there.
Ryan just laughed, brushing it off his superstition.
He's always been like that, cool dismissive of anything he can't
see or shoot. But as we unloaded our gear, I
couldn't shake what the old man said.
I know, I know, I shouldn't let it get to me.
But there was something about his tone.
It wasn't a warning meant to scare us.
It was more like he already knew how this story might end, and he
wasn't sure he wanted to hear about it later.
Well, Ethan, you going to help set up or are you just going to
stare at the trees all day? Ryan's voice snapped me out of
it. I forced a grin, shaking off the
chill that had settled into my bones, and grabbed my share of
the tent poles. The sun was already hanging low
in the sky by the time we had everything set up.
Ryan and I took a moment to stand back and admire our work.
The tents were pitched. A fire pit was made, and our
rifles were leaning against a nearby stump.
It all felt right. There was a certain satisfaction
to setting up camp, a small claim on the vast wilderness.
But as the shadows stretched longer, I couldn't help but
notice how fast the light was fading.
Whiteclaw was a deep forest, the kind that swallowed the sun
whole, and soon the sky above was nothing but a thin strip of
purple between the towering Pines.
We sat by the fire, cooking up a couple of hot dogs on sticks,
listening to the crackling flames.
Ryan was telling a story about some trophy elk he bagged last
fall, but honestly, I wasn't paying much attention.
My ears were tuned to the forest, to the way it had gotten
so damn quiet. No wind rustling the leaves, no
chirping crickets, Just that heavy, unnatural silence.
I could tell Ryan noticed it too, even if he was pretending
not to. His eyes kept darting into the
dark, his laughter a bit too forced.
That's when we heard it. A howl, long and guttural,
somewhere off in the distance. It wasn't a wolf or a coyote.
It was deeper, almost like it was caught halfway between a
growl and a human scream. I looked at Ryan and he gave me
that shrug, the one that said you're being paranoid, But I
knew he heard it too. Probably just a coyote, he said,
jabbing at the fire with his stick.
You get enough of them together and they make all sorts of weird
noises. Yeah, maybe, I replied, trying
to convince myself as much as him, but the sound had settled
in my chest, like a cold fist squeezing around my heart.
It wasn't just the noise, it was the way it moved, shifting
through the trees, closer and then farther, circling us.
It felt deliberate, like whatever was out there wanted us
to know it was watching. I grabbed the flashlight and
stood up, sweeping the beam across the tree line.
Nothing but shadows, a sea of black between the trunks.
Then, just for a second, I saw them, two eyes reflecting the
light, glowing faintly before disappearing into the dark.
I sucked in a breath, my hand tightening around the
flashlight. What is it?
Ryan asked, his voice low now, the bravado slipping.
Thought I saw something. I muttered, not taking my eyes
off the trees. I tried to steady my breathing,
but the feeling was there again, that same quiet I'd felt when we
first arrived, only now it was louder, more pressing, like the
forest itself was trying to warn me.
Ryan scoffed, though there was an edge to it.
Probably just a deer. You're jumpier than a rabbit,
Ethan. He tossed another log onto the
fire, and the flames shot up, illuminating the clearing,
pushing the shadows back a bit. Come on, let's get some sleep.
We got an early start tomorrow. I nodded, but I couldn't shake
that feeling even as I crawled into my tent and zipped it shut.
I lay there, listening, straining to hear anything
beyond the crackling fire and Ryan's steady breathing.
In the next tent over, the wind had picked up rustling the
leaves, but underneath it I thought I could still hear that
howl, faint and distant, echoing through the trees.
Sleep came in fits and starts. Every time I drifted off, I
dream of twisted figures moving through the woods, their limbs
bending in ways they shouldn't, faces obscured by shadows.
I'd wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, sure that something
was standing just outside the tent, waiting.
But every time I looked, there was nothing.
Just the darkness, deep and endless.
By the time dawn finally broke, I felt like I hadn't slept at
all. I crawled out of the tent, the
morning air biting at my skin, and found Ryan already up,
packing his gear with that same easy grin.
See, told you nothing to worry about.
He said, clapping me on the shoulder.
Today's going to be a good day, Ethan.
Let's get us a deer. I forced a smile, but deep down
I knew something was wrong. The forest hadn't let go of that
silence, it had just stepped back, waiting, watching.
And somehow I knew we weren't alone out here, not by a long
shot. The morning started out all
right, Clear skies, crisp air, and the kind of chill that wakes
you up better than a pot of coffee.
Ryan was his usual upbeat self, cracking jokes and talking about
all the deer we were going to see today.
I tried to match his energy, but I couldn't shake the feeling
from the night before. The silence of the forest still
weighed heavy, and those glowing eyes were burned into my memory.
We packed up our rifles and headed deeper into the woods,
following a trail that ran parallel to the Creek.
It was slow going, the kind of pace where you've got time to
notice every twig snapping under foot, every shift of a branch in
the breeze. Ryan was ahead of me, his eyes
fixed on the ground, tracking. I couldn't help but let my gaze
wander to the tree line, looking for any sign of movement,
anything that might explain what we heard.
You know, sometimes when you're hunting, the world feels like
it's holding its breath, waiting for you to make a move.
That's how it felt that morning. I could hear my own heartbeat,
feel the weight of the rifle in my hands, but everything else
seemed too still, too expectant. Ryan didn't seem to notice, he
just kept moving, scanning the forest for signs of deer.
Then, out of nowhere, we heard it.
A voice calling out from somewhere up ahead.
It was faint, almost drowned out by the wind, but there was no
mistaking it. A woman's voice calling for
help. Ryan stopped dead, turning back
to look at me, his eyebrows raised.
Did you hear that? He asked, though I could see by
his face that he already knew I had.
Yeah. I replied, my stomach dropping.
It didn't make sense. We were miles from anywhere,
deep in a forest that hardly anyone ventured into.
Who could be out here and why? It sounded like it came from
over there. Ryan pointed off the trail into
the thickest part of the woods. I didn't like it.
The voice seemed off. There was a desperation to it,
sure, but something about the tone made my skin crawl.
It almost felt too deliberate, like whoever was calling for
help wanted us to come to them and not the other way around.
We should check it out. Ryan said, already starting to
head in that direction. Ryan, hang on.
I said, grabbing his arm. Something's not right about
this. There shouldn't be anyone out
here. He shrugged me off, shaking his
head. What if someone's hurt, Ethan?
We can't just ignore it. And with that, he turned and
started moving through the underbrush, the branches
cracking under foot as he went. I didn't have much choice but to
follow. The farther we went, the more
the feeling of unease grew. The trees were thicker here,
their branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky.
The ground was uneven, roots twisting under foot, and the air
seemed colder too, like the sun wasn't reaching this far in.
Ryan called out a couple of times, his voice ringing through
the forest. But we got no answer.
Just that same silence pressing in, heavy and unnatural.
Then we saw it. In a small clearing up ahead,
there was a deer standing stock still.
At first I felt a rush of relief.
Maybe this was just a normal hunt after all.
But as we got closer, I noticed something was wrong.
The deer's limbs were all wrong, too long, bending at strange
angles. Its eyes locked on to us, and
there was something there, something that wasn't animal.
It felt like it was staring through me, not at me.
I stopped in my tracks, my mouth going dry.
Ryan. I whispered, but he was already
raising his rifle, his eyes narrowing as he took aim.
Before he could pull the trigger, the deer stood up.
I mean, fully stood up on two legs, like a man.
Ryan froze, his rifle half raised, his eyes wide with
shock. We both just stared as the thing
turned, moving in this jerky, unnatural way.
And then it bolted into the woods, disappearing into the
trees. What the hell was that?
Ryan muttered, his voice barely a breath.
He looked back at me, and for the first time, I saw the fear
in his eyes. I don't know.
I said, my heart pounding in my chest.
But we need to get back to camp. We turned, moving as quickly as
we could without breaking into a run.
The forest seemed to close in around us, every shadow suddenly
deeper, every noise amplified. It felt like we were being
watched, like whatever that thing was, it was still out
there, just out of sight, waiting for us to make a
mistake. When we finally stumbled back
into camp, it was like stepping into a different world.
The fire pit was overturned, our supplies scattered everywhere.
One of the tents had been ripped open, the fabric hanging in
tatters, and deep claw marks scored the ground around it.
Ryan looked at me, his face pale.
This isn't a bear, he said, his voice cracking.
This, this is something else. I nodded, my throat too tight to
speak. I knew he was right.
Whatever was out there, it wasn't an animal.
It was something else, something that knew we were here and
wanted us to know it too. We need to leave.
I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper.
First thing in the morning. Ryan didn't argue, he just
nodded, his eyes scanning the tree line, searching for any
sign of movement. We both knew it wasn't over.
Whatever had brought us out into those woods wasn't done with us
yet. And as the sun dipped below the
horizon, plunging the forest Into Darkness, I felt the dreads
settle in deeper than before. We weren't alone out here.
Morning couldn't come soon enough, and when it finally did,
I felt like I'd aged a decade. The whole night I was on edge,
jumping at every Creek, every rustle of leaves outside the
tent. It was as if the darkness was
alive, breathing down our necks. I could barely sleep.
Every time I managed to close my eyes, I'd see that deer thing
standing up, those eyes staring right through me.
Ryan was already up by the time I dragged myself out of the
tent. He looked like hell, and
honestly, I probably looked worse.
He gave me a quick nod and we got to packing up camp.
There wasn't much to say. We both knew we needed to get
out of these woods, the sooner the better.
We set off along the trail, moving at a quick pace.
The sky was overcast, the sunlight dim and cold, and the
forest around us seemed even more unfamiliar than it had
before. I kept looking over my shoulder,
scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.
I could tell Ryan was on edge too.
He wasn't cracking jokes or talking like he usually did.
He was focused, his eyes darting from tree to tree, his shoulders
tense. And then it happened.
Ryan, over here, I found something.
The voice was unmistakable, it was my own.
I stopped in my tracks, the color draining from my face.
I hadn't said a word. Ryan turned to me, his eyes
wide, and I could see the confusion, the fear flickering
in his expression. What the hell?
Ryan whispered, his voice barely audible.
He looked at me, then back in the direction the voice had come
from. The forest was still, almost too
still, and the air felt thick with anticipation.
I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could,
we saw it. A figure stepped out from the
trees, someone who looked just like me.
It moved awkwardly, like it was struggling to control its own
body, its head jerking from side to side as if it was sniffing
the air. My own face stared back at me,
but there was something horribly wrong with it.
The eyes were empty, hollow, and the smile that spread across its
lips was twisted like it was mocking me.
Ryan. It called again, the voice a
warped echo of my own. Over here, I found something.
Ryan raised his rifle, his hands shaking, and for a second I
thought he might pull the trigger.
But the thing, whatever it was, moved back, slipping into the
shadows before he could even line up a shot.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I realized I'd been holding
my breath. Did you see that?
Ryan gasped, his face as pale as a ghost.
Ethan, what the hell was that? I shook my head, trying to make
sense of what I'd just seen. My mouth was dry, and my
thoughts were racing, but one thing was clear.
We had to get out of here. Whatever was out there, it
wasn't going to let us go easily.
Come on, I said, my voice barely steady.
We need to move now. We started back down the trail,
moving faster now, practically running.
Every step felt like a gamble, like the ground beneath our feet
might give way, or the trees around us might reach out and
drag us into the dark. My legs were burning, my breath
coming in short gasps, but I didn't dare slow down.
I could hear Ryan behind me, his footsteps crunching through the
underbrush, and I prayed that he'd keep up.
But the forest, it wasn't the same anymore.
The path twisted and turned in ways that it hadn't before, like
the woods were shifting around us, trying to confuse us, to
trap us. The GPS I had clipped to my belt
was useless. It kept spinning, unable to get
a signal. Panic was clawing at the edge of
my mind, and I could feel my grip on reality slipping bit by
bit. We're going in circles.
Ryan shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.
He was right. I recognized a fallen log we'd
passed at least twice already. It felt like we were being
herded, like the forest itself was conspiring against us,
pushing us deeper into its heart.
Suddenly, we heard it. A low, guttural growl, closer
than ever. My blood ran cold, and I knew
without a doubt that whatever was out there was closing in.
I looked at Ryan, and I could see the terror in his eyes.
We were running out of time. We have to keep moving, I said,
my voice cracking. We can't stay here.
Night was falling, the shadows growing longer, and I knew we
couldn't spend another night in these woods.
We needed to find a way out, any way out.
The howling started again, echoing through the trees, and I
could hear the snapping of branches, the rustle of leaves.
It was coming for us, whatever it was, and it wasn't going to
stop. Then, as if by some miracle, we
broke through the tree line and stumbled onto an old logging Rd.
It was overgrown, barely more than a dirt path, but it was
something. It was a way out.
And then, almost like a gift from above, I saw headlights in
the distance. A truck rumbling slowly down the
road. Run.
I shouted, grabbing Ryan's arm, and we sprinted towards the
light. The creature's howl echoed
behind us, closer now, and I could hear it crashing through
the underbrush, chasing us. My heart felt like it might
explode, my lungs screaming for air, but I didn't stop.
I couldn't stop. The truck slowed as it reached
us, the driver's face a mix of shock and confusion.
We didn't give him much of A choice.
We clambered into the bed of the truck, shouting for him to go,
to get us out of there. The truck lurched forward, and I
looked back, just for a second, at the edge of the woods.
I saw it, the creature standing there, watching us, its form
shifting in the fading light, melting into the shadows as the
truck speed away. I turned to Ryan.
He was breathing hard, his eyes wide, and I knew we both felt
the same thing. Relief, yes, but also a gnawing
fear. Whatever that thing was, it had
let us go. But I couldn't shake the feeling
that it wasn't over, that we'd only just escaped by the skin of
our teeth. And as the forest disappeared
behind us, I made a silent vow. I was never coming back to
Wyclaw. Not ever.
We didn't speak much during the ride back to town.
The truck rattled over the old dirt Rd., the tires kicking up
dust, and Ryan and I just sat in the back, huddled against the
cold metal, our eyes glued to the fading tree line.
I kept expecting to see it again, whatever that thing was,
lurking just beyond the reach of the headlights, but there was
nothing. Just the dark wall of the
forest, silent and empty. It should have felt like a
relief, but honestly, it didn't. Ryan's face was pale, his eyes
hollow. I knew he was thinking the same
thing I was, that we'd come within a hair's breadth of not
making it out. I didn't have any words to make
it better. What could I say?
It's over. I didn't believe that, not for a
second. Whatever was out there, it had
let us go, but not because we'd beaten it.
More like it had gotten bored. Or maybe it was just playing
with us. Either way, we'd been lucky and
I knew it wouldn't last if we made the mistake of coming back.
The driver, a middle-aged guy in a flannel shirt and a ball cap,
pulled up to the edge of town and LED us off near the gas
station. He didn't ask any questions and
I was grateful for that. Maybe he'd seen the look on our
faces and decided he didn't want to know.
Either way, I thanked him and he gave a quick nod before driving
off, leaving us standing there bathed in the yellow glow of the
street lights. Well.
Ryan said, after a long silence. What do we tell people?
I looked at him, and for a moment, I didn't have an answer.
My head was pounding, my body aching from exhaustion, and all
I wanted was to put as much distance as I could between
myself and White Claw. But we couldn't just say
nothing, could we? People were bound to ask our
friends, our families. We couldn't exactly tell them
the truth. They'd think we were crazy.
Bear. I finally said, my voice rough.
We tell them it was a bear, Big one.
Got into our camp, tore the place up.
We were lucky to get out. It sounded weak, even to my
ears, but it was the best I could come up with.
Ryan seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly.
Yeah, a bear. He repeated, like he was trying
to convince himself. It's better than the truth, I
guess. We headed into the gas station,
the bright fluorescent lights making my eyes hurt.
The clerk behind the counter glanced at us, her eyes widening
slightly at our dishevelled state.
I must have looked like I'd crawled out of a grave.
Ryan asked to use the phone, and I watched him from the corner of
my eye as he called his brother for a ride.
My hands were shaking, and I shoved them into my pockets,
trying to steady myself. I couldn't get the image of that
thing out of my mind, my own face twisted into something
wrong, something that shouldn't exist.
I kept hearing the way it had called out to Ryan, the way it
had used my voice, like it was wearing my skin.
The thought made me shudder. I'd never felt so vulnerable, so
completely exposed. Ryan's brother showed up about
20 minutes later, and we climbed into the back of his truck
without a word. Ryan must have told him about
the bear, because he didn't ask any questions, just drove us
back to Ryan's place. I stared out the window the
whole way, watching the landscape blur by, feeling like
I was caught in some kind of waking nightmare.
It was hard to believe we were finally out of those woods,
harder still to believe that whatever had happened out there
was real. When we got to Ryan's house, his
brother helped him inside, and I stood there for a moment,
feeling lost. Ryan turned back to me, his eyes
meeting mine, and there was a look there, a shared
understanding. I guess we didn't need to say it
out loud. We both knew we were never going
back, not to Whiteclaw, not ever.
Take care, Ethan. Ryan said, his voice hoarse.
I nodded, giving him a small smile that I didn't really feel.
You too. And Ryan, don't talk about it to
anyone. He didn't hesitate.
I won't. I watched him disappear into the
house, the door closing behind him, and then I turned and
started walking home. It wasn't far, just a few
blocks, but every shadow seemed deeper, every sound sharper.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I was still being watched,
that whatever was out there had followed me, hiding just beyond
the glow of the street lights. When I finally reached my house,
I fumble with the key, my hands still trembling.
I stepped inside, locking the door behind me, and leaned
against it, taking a deep breath.
The house was quiet, empty, but it didn't feel like a refuge,
Not anymore. I couldn't shake the feeling
that the darkness outside was pressing in, that any second I'd
hear that voice again. My own voice, calling out from
somewhere it shouldn't be. I walked to the kitchen, poured
myself a drink, and downed it in one go.
The burn of the whiskey did little to calm my nerves.
I knew that sleep wouldn't come easily tonight, if at all.
I knew that every creak of the house, every whisper of wind,
would have me on edge, wondering if I'd really left it all
behind. As I stood there, staring out
the kitchen window into the darkened yard, I made myself a
promise. I'd never set foot in Whiteclaw
Forest again. I didn't care if it meant giving
up hunting for good. Whatever was out there, it
wasn't done with us, and I wasn't about to give it another
chance. Ryan and I had been lucky.
But luck runs out and some places, some places are just
meant to be left alone.