We arrived at Crow Lake just as the sun began its lazy descent
below the horizon, casting a warm golden light over
everything. The trees were ablaze in shades
of red, deep orange, and bright yellow, almost idyllic, like
something out of a painting. We tumbled out of the car and,
stretching our legs, let go of all the tension that had piled
up over the last few months. All we needed was an escape from
the noise of the city, some time to reconnect.
Matt, Claire, Nate and I had been friends forever, but life
has a way of pulling people apart.
Jobs, relationships, responsibilities.
It was as if we were all drifting in different directions
and the camping trip was a way of saying we could keep holding
on just a little while longer. We set up our tents along the
Lakeshore, the water sparkling in the fading sunlight.
It felt good to laugh, to joke like we used to.
Chris Bear washed over us, carrying a sense of peace as we
worked. By the time the sun dipped below
the treetops, the sky was painted in shades of pink and
purple. We sat around the fire we built,
the crackling of the flames filling the silence between us.
It was so quiet out here. No cars, no people, nothing but
the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and the
occasional splash of a fish jumping in the lake.
Too quiet, almost, but I shrugged it off.
We were miles from civilization. It should be quiet.
We sat around the fire, roasting marshmallows and sharing ghost
stories. My shoulders finally started to
relax, the tension easing out of them for the first time in
months. And then I saw it on the other
side of the lake, a shadowy figure, tall and unmoving,
standing at the edge of the trees.
I blinked, straining my eyes against the twilight, trying to
make out what it was. The light was fading, making it
hard to see much of anything. I elbowed Matt, whispering.
Do you see that? He turned in the direction I
indicated, squinting into the distance.
See what? He asked, amused.
You're not getting spooked already, are you?
I frowned, still gazing at that spot, but it was gone.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the weird feeling lodged
in my chest. No, it's nothing, just a trick
of the light, I guess. Matt chuckled, and the others
followed, teasing me for being afraid of my own shadow.
I forced a smile, but the feeling still lingered.
Something was out there, watching us.
I told myself it was stupid, just a shadow, my mind playing
tricks on me. But the further into the night
it got, the more the feeling of unease grew.
The laughter around the campfire seemed forced now, and the
darkness seemed to press in from all directions.
Every time I looked across the lake, I half expected to see
that shadow again, just standing there and watching.
The others didn't seem to notice, or if they did, they did
a good job of pretending nothing was wrong.
That night, when we crawled into our tents, the forest came alive
with noises. Leaves rustled, branches
snapped, and an owl hooted from far away.
Lying there, staring up at the dark fabric of the tent, my
heart pounded in my chest. I told myself it was just the
normal sounds of the forest, that there was nothing out
there. Deep down, though, I knew
something wasn't right. The following morning, we
strolled down the trails around Crow Lake.
The sun was shining brightly, yet that unexplainable sense of
unease wouldn't leave me alone. Nate went first, his usual
bright self. Matt and Claire chattered, their
laughter carrying through the forest.
I tried to join in, but I couldn't help looking into the
darkness between the trees, expecting the figure from the
previous night to reappear. We soon came across an overgrown
path leading deeper into the woods.
The path was so narrow that trees crowded in from both
sides, their branches intertwining overhead to form a
canopy that allowed barely any sunlight to filter through.
The deeper we went, the darker and colder it got.
The tension was stifling and our conversation dwindled until the
only sound was the crunching of leaves under our feet.
We stumbled across a small, dilapidated cabin half hidden by
undergrowth. The windows were all smashed and
the door hung loosely on its hinges.
The very sight of it made me shiver.
Yet ever curious, Claire insisted we go inside.
She pushed the door open. The rusty hinges creaked loudly
in the silence. Inside, the air was thick with
dust in the dim light. Pieces of furniture lay strewn
across the floor and strange symbols were scratched into the
walls, old as if they had been there for years.
Claire took out her phone and snapped a few photos, jokingly
pretending to be searching for a haunted house.
She was just kidding, but there was nothing funny about the
feeling in the air. It bore down on me, making it
hard to breathe. On the floor lay an old Lantern.
It's glass cracked. Matt picked it up and turned it
over in his hands. This place gives me the creeps.
He muttered, and for once no one teased him.
We all felt it. We shouldn't be here.
We were intruding on something we didn't understand.
We left the cabin in a rush. The silence between us was
heavy. Even the way back to camp seemed
darker now. The trees twisted into ghostly
contorted shapes, their branches reaching out like skeletal
fingers. I couldn't shake the feeling
that something was following us through the darkness, waiting
for its moment. That night around the campfire
was different. Instead of the previous night's
laughter, there was an expectant silence.
I found myself looking across the lake every few minutes, half
expecting to see that figure again.
And then I did see it, standing at the edge of the trees, barely
visible in the fading light. Claire gasped, her eyes widening
as she pointed. Look at that.
She whispered, her voice shaking.
We all turned, but by the time the beam from Matt's flashlight
swept over the water, the figure was gone.
Nate forced a laugh, but it came out strained.
His eyes betrayed him, wide and frightened.
The darkness seemed to close in around us, the flames of the
fire flickering as if fighting off the shadows.
My heart raced and my unease grew into fear.
That night, lying in my tent, I listened to the forest, the
rustle of leaves, the snapping of branches, and then, farther
off, the hooting of an owl. My mind raced.
Every muscle in my body was taut.
Then I heard it. A soft, distorted voice calling
out my name. Jenny.
Matt, Claire. The voice was slow, deliberate,
relishing each name. A chill ran down my spine and my
breath caught in my throat. I reached out with a shaking
hand and shook Matt awake. His eyes widened with terror as
he listened. The voice came again, this time
closer. Come out, come out.
Matt took the flashlight and with shaking hands, turned it
on. The light swept through the
darkness and the footsteps ceased.
A moment of silence, and then, deep in the woods, we heard it.
Low, mocking laughter echoing all around us.
Nate unzipped his tent and stepped out into the night, his
voice shaking as he called out. A sudden scream split the night,
raw and full of terror. It sent shivers down my spine.
Then utter silence, as if the world had ended.
We burst out of our tents in a scatter of flashlight beams, but
saw nothing of Nate. He had been swallowed by the
night. Panic set in.
The moment Nate's scream ended. My body went cold.
With the scream came a deadening stillness, worse than the scream
itself. I scrambled out of the tent, my
heart pounding, the beam from the flashlight dancing in my
shaking hands as I searched for any sign of Nate.
Behind me, Matt, Sam, and Claire stood, their pale faces filled
with horror. Nate.
Sam bellowed, his voice cracking.
The only answer was the echo of his voice dwindling into the
distance. The laughter had stopped now
there was an oppressive silence that took over.
I could feel it crawling up my bones.
We needed to get out of there fast, before whatever was out
there got us to. We have to go now.
Matt whispered, barely audible. He pulled at my arm, towing me
toward the way back to the road. Claire was already scrambling,
trying to pick up what little she could.
Her hands shook so hard she dropped the flashlight twice.
I didn't bother grabbing anything.
Getting out alive was all that mattered.
We stumbled through the dark, away from the campsite,
flashlight beams bouncing wildly.
The forest felt different. Twisted alien trees seemed to
lean over us, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching
down to snatch us. The path we had followed so
easily before now twisted and turned, leading us deeper into
the darkness. I breathed in short, panicked
gasps, my legs shaking as I urged them to keep moving.
Behind me, Claire was crying, stumbling over every step.
Where is he? She kept saying, her voice
cracking. Where did he go?
We didn't know. I didn't want to think about it,
about what had happened to Nate, about what might be waiting in
the darkness ahead. The laughter started up again,
low and staccato, running through the trees, wrapping
around us. I bit back a scream, my heart
hammering. I kept my focus on one thing,
putting 1 foot in front of the other.
We couldn't stop. It would catch us if we did.
I knew that deep in my bones. This way.
Sam yelled, staggering toward a gap that looked like an opening
in the trees. We swerved left, underbrush
slapping at our faces and arms as we fought our way through.
The laughter grew louder, more distorted.
From the corner of my eye, I saw it.
Something moving, something looming, grotesque, keeping pace
with us. No matter how fast we ran, the
forest seemed never to end, and the darkness swallowed us whole.
Fear replaced hope, cold and numbing.
Just as I thought I couldn't run anymore, I saw it.
The road. A pale line of gravel sliced
through the trees, barely visible in the dim light of
dawn. A SOB of relief escaped my lips,
and with one final effort, I burst free from the woods,
stumbling onto the road. We sank to the ground, panting,
the cold gravel bruising our palms and knees.
I looked back, expecting the figure to emerge from the trees
and come after us, but there was nothing.
The forest stood still. The laughter was gone.
It was as if everything, the terror, the darkness, Nate had
been swallowed by the night and he was just gone.
The first light of the sun came through the trees, and for a
moment I let myself think we were safe.
A few minutes later, the police arrived.
We tried to explain what had happened, but it sounded insane.
They combed the woods and found nothing.
No Nate, no signs that we had ever been there, nothing but a
discarded campsite. Even now, I remember the
laughter, the figure, the feeling of being watched that
haunted me. Sometimes at night, when the
world is still and the shadows reach out, I can still hear it,
that soft, mirthless laughter just outside my window, and I
think of what's still out there at Crow Lake, waiting for us to
come back. I will never go into the woods
again. I've been through the Great
Smoky Mountains many times, but never like this.
The trails that usually seemed so inviting felt twisted now,
the once familiar bends foreign in the growing shadows.
We've been searching for two days, the wait of each hour
adding to the tension gripping our small group.
The forest seemed to swallow our voices as we called out her
name. Emma, I had hoped each turn,
each Ridge, each clearing would bring her into view, but the
forest had a way of hiding things when it wanted.
It was Carla who spotted her first.
Emma was curled beneath a dense thicket, her knees pulled up to
her chest, her eyes wide. She looked at us, but it felt
like she was staring through US, beyond us, into some
unfathomable distance. Her boots lay just a few feet
away, side by side, as if she had taken them off with
deliberate care. Carla moved towards her slowly,
speaking in that calm way she has.
I followed, watching as Emma's gaze shifted past Carla to the
trees beyond. Emma.
I said softly, crouching down. Her eyes darted to mine for a
moment before returning to whatever was lurking behind us.
You're safe now, we're going to get you back, all right?
Emma didn't respond. She just stared past me, her
lips parted, her breath shallow. I turned, glancing back at the
darkening forest, but there was nothing there.
Just trees, shadows, and the whispers of the wind threading
through the leaves. Carla wrapped the blanket around
Emma, her hands steady as always, while I tried to catch
Emma's eye again. It was time to move.
The sun was nearly gone, and darkness in the Smokies came
fast. We lifted Emma gently,
supporting her on either side as we began the trek back.
The trail was uneven, twisting, and I kept my flashlight trained
on the ground ahead of us. The beams danced with every
step, the forest beyond slipping in and out of sight as if
playing a cruel game of hide and seek.
Emma's breathing grew louder as we walked, a series of shallow
gasps that seemed to match our steps.
She kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes growing
Wilder with each glance. I tried to talk to her, keep her
focused, but nothing seemed to breakthrough the fear that had
wrapped itself around her. He's following us.
She whispered, her voice barely audible over the crunch of
leaves and branches beneath our feet.
I exchanged a look with Carla, whose eyes were narrowed, her
lips pressed into a thin line. We both knew shock could do
strange things, make people see things that weren't there, but
there was something in Emma's gaze, something so certain that
made my chest tighten. I kept my flashlight aimed
straight ahead, not daring to let it wander into the darkness
beyond the narrow path. Emma stopped suddenly, her body
tensing, her eyes wide as she stared into the shadows.
He's right there. She said, her voice cracking,
Watching. I turned, my flashlight cutting
a beam through the undergrowth. Nothing.
Just the forest, the endless trees and shadows stretching
into the night. Let's keep moving.
I said, my voice firmer than I felt.
Carla nodded, and we urged Emma forward, her feet dragging, her
eyes still fixed on whatever she thought was out there.
The air around us felt thick, the quiet pressing in the forest
waiting. We moved faster, the lights of
the base camp a distant promise. Emma's whispers grew more
frantic, her eyes darting from side to side, her words jumbling
together. In her fear, she refused to look
ahead, always back, always searching for something I
couldn't see. The trail twisted, and I focused
on the path, on getting us out, on the lights just barely
visible now through the trees. Don't look at him.
Emma muttered, her voice cracking, her eyes glistening
with unshed tears. He doesn't like it when you
look. Her words clung to the air
around us, making it harder to breathe, each step a struggle
against the shadows that seemed to grow closer with every
passing 2nd. The camp lights finally broke
through the darkness, flooding the path in front of us.
We hurried into the clearing, the tension around us snapping
like a rope pulled too tight. Emma collapsed, her body
shaking, her eyes finally closing as Carla knelt beside
her. I turned back to the forest, my
flashlight once again cutting through the dark, but there was
nothing there, nothing I could see.
Just the trees, just the silence.
But it didn't feel like we were alone.
The darkness had a way of shifting, like a living thing
curling around us. We moved cautiously, the beam of
my flashlight cutting through the trees as if trying to keep
the forest itself at Bay. Emma's breathing had turned into
a series of ragged gasps, her hand clutching my arm with a
strength that seemed impossible given her fragile state.
Carla was ahead of us, her steps careful and deliberate, but I
could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she was just as
on edge as I was. We had made it this far, but it
seemed like every step forward was pushing us deeper into
something we couldn't name. Emma kept glancing behind us,
her wide eyes darting back to the darkness, and I couldn't
help but feel the weight of her terror pulling me down.
She whispered under her breath, her words barely forming a
steady litany of pleas to someone none of us could see.
The forest had gone silent, and not in the usual way when night
fell. It was a hollow silence, as if
something had emptied it, leaving behind nothing but an
oppressive void. Even our footsteps felt muffled,
the crunch of leaves under foot dampened by whatever had wrapped
itself around us. I called out to Carla, my voice
barely breaking through the quiet, and she turned, her eyes
meeting mine. There was no need for words,
both of us could see it in each other's faces.
We needed to get out. Emma stumbled, her legs giving
way, and I caught her just before she fell.
We have to keep moving. I urged, trying to keep my voice
steady. She shook her head, her eyes
still fixed on something beyond us.
I glanced over my shoulder, but the beam of my flashlight
revealed only trees and shadows. Nothing moved, but the air felt
heavy, charged, like the moment before a storm.
Carla came back to help, her hand resting on Emma's shoulder.
Emma, listen to me, we're almost there, just a bit further.
She said, her voice calm, almost gentle.
Emma looked up at her, her lips trembling.
She didn't speak, just nodded, and we started moving again,
Carla now on her other side, both of us practically carrying
her along the uneven trail. That's when I heard it.
Soft, almost indistinct at first, but growing louder.
Footsteps, Not ours. They moved in time with us, but
they were out of sync, as if whoever or whatever was making
them wanted us to know they were there.
I glanced at Carla and her face had gone pale, her eyes widening
slightly. She had heard it too.
We quickened our pace, Emma stumbling between us, her eyes
wide, her breath coming in frantic bursts.
I didn't dare look back. The trees seem to close in the
path, winding tighter, the light from our flashlights barely
piercing the darkness. Emma whispered again, her voice
hoarse. He's closer.
He wants us to know. The words made my stomach twist,
but I kept my focus on the trail.
The lights of the base camp couldn't be far now.
Carla and I pushed forward, practically dragging Emma, our
steps uneven and desperate. The footsteps behind us grew
louder, and I could hear the branches rustling, the
underbrush crunching as if something massive was moving
just out of sight, just beyond the reach of our flashlights.
Carla's voice broke through the silence, sharp and urgent.
We're almost there. Don't stop, just keep moving.
I nodded, though the fear in my chest felt like a weight
pressing down with every breath. Emma's head lolled slightly, her
eyes wide but unfocused, her body sagging between us as if
whatever strength she had left was fading.
The camp lights flickered through the trees, faint but
there, and I felt a rush of relief.
We pushed forward, the footsteps still there, still matching us,
growing louder, closer. The clearing opened in front of
us and we broke into it, the harsh lights washing over us,
the base camp a sudden beacon of safety.
Emma collapsed as soon as we reached the clearing, her body
going limp, and Carla and I knelt beside her, breathing
hard. I looked back towards the
forest, my flashlight still aimed at the tree line.
The footsteps had stopped, the silence returning deeper, now
heavier. The forest stood there,
unmoving, nothing but shadows and branches swaying gently in
the breeze. But it felt wrong, as if the
darkness itself was watching, waiting.
Carla placed her hand on my shoulder, her voice soft but
firm. We made it.
I nodded, but my eyes stayed on the forest.
Something had followed us. I knew it.
I couldn't see it, but it was there, just beyond the light,
watching. And it wasn't done yet.
The camp was bustling as the medics rushed over, their voices
hurried, their hands moving quickly to check.
Emma, Carla and I stood back, catching our breath, the
adrenaline still thrumming through my veins.
The light from the camp spilled out into the clearing, casting
long shadows that seemed to twist and shift.
I kept my eyes on the tree line, every instinct telling me to
stay alert, to watch for whatever might still be out
there. Emma's whispers had left a knot
of unease in my chest. She'd said he was still there,
just beyond the light, waiting for one of us to stray too far.
I could hear her words as clearly as if she was still
whispering them. I forced myself to look away
from the forest, focusing on Carla instead.
She was watching the medics, her expression drawn, her shoulders
tense. She's going to be OK, I said,
more to reassure myself than her.
Carla nodded, but didn't say anything.
Her eyes flicked towards the tree line, the shadows beyond
the camp lights dark and thick. There was something oppressive
about the way the forest seemed to press in, as if it was just
waiting for the right moment to reclaim us.
I tried to shake off the feeling, but the tension in the
air refused to fade. The camp, usually a place of
refuge, felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the light was
barely keeping the darkness at Bay.
One of the medics called out to us, motioning for help, and
Carla moved forward to assist. I lingered for a moment, my gaze
drifting back to the forest. There was a rustle, soft and
distant, and my eyes narrowed, the beam of my flashlight
sweeping across the underbrush. Nothing.
Just branches swaying, the wind whispering through the leaves.
Still, I couldn't shake the thought that something was out
there, watching, waiting. I turned back to the camp,
joining Carla as they loaded Emma onto a stretcher.
She was conscious, her eyes half open, her lips moving in a
whisper that I couldn't quite hear.
The medics exchanged a look, their expressions tight, but
they didn't say anything. I caught Carla's eye and she
gave me a small nod, a silent assurance that Emma was in good
hands. But as they started to move her
towards one of the tents, Emma's eyes snapped open, her hands
shooting out to grab my wrist. Her grip was stronger than I
expected, her eyes wide, frantic.
He's still there. She said, her voice barely above
a whisper, but filled with a raw fear that cut through the noise
of the camp. He's waiting.
A shiver ran through me, and I glanced back towards the forest,
the tree line now just a dark wall against the night sky.
The medics gently pried her hand from my wrist, speaking to her
in soothing tones as they led her away.
Carla stepped closer, her eyes following mine to the edge of
the clearing. We should get some rest.
She said, though her voice lacked conviction.
I nodded, but neither of us moved.
The camp lights flickered, the generator humming steadily, and
I found myself counting each flicker, each moment that the
light seemed to waver. It felt like a fragile barrier,
one that could give way at any moment.
Carla finally sighed, her hand resting on my arm.
Come on. She said, her voice softer now.
We need to clear our heads. We made our way to one of the
tents, but I couldn't shake the sense of unease.
The forest was too close, the darkness too deep.
I unzipped the tent, stepping inside, the fabric walls doing
little to block out the sounds of the night.
Carla followed, sitting down heavily on her sleeping bag.
Do you think she's right? She asked after a moment, her
voice barely audible. I didn't answer right away.
I could still feel the weight of Emma's grip on my wrist, the
fear in her eyes. I glanced towards the tent flap,
the shadows beyond it shifting as the camp lights flickered
again. I don't know.
I said finally, my voice low. But whatever it is, I don't
think it's over. Carla didn't respond, and we sat
there in silence, the weight of the night pressing in around us.
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, the shadows
dancing just beyond the light. I lay down, my eyes fixed on the
roof of the tent, listening, waiting.
The night stretched on, the darkness outside feeling like a
presence all its own, and I knew that whatever had followed us
out of the forest was still there, just beyond the light,
waiting for its moment. It was supposed to be just
another evening walk. Ryan and I had been walking
through the forest preserve nearly every day since we moved
here. It was kind of our thing.
The path through the woods was one we knew so well.
It always felt safe. I do recall that the air was
very crisp that evening, smelling like damp leaves and
cool dirt. The sun was hanging low and long
shadows were stretching over the path like giant fingers.
I held Ryan's hand and everything felt normal, peaceful
even. Until it wasn't.
We were just rounding a bend when I heard it.
A sound that didn't belong, leaves crunching.
But it wasn't us. I slowed down, squeezing Ryan's
hand, and turned just enough to peek over my shoulder.
That's when I saw him. There was a man standing there,
on the path behind us. He was far enough away that I
couldn't make out much, but something about him made my
stomach twist. His coat looked old, like he'd
been out here for years. He wasn't moving, just standing
there, staring. Ryan.
I whispered, my voice shaking. Someone's behind us.
Ryan turned, squinting his eyes to try and get a better look.
The guy didn't move, didn't wave, didn't nod, didn't do
anything to acknowledge we'd spotted him.
His face was partly obscured by his hood, but I could see
enough. Those sunken eyes, that deathly
pale skin. My heartbeat worked its way up
to a run as I felt that something was sincerely,
horribly wrong. Ryan squeezed my hand a little
tighter, like he was trying to calm me down.
It's fine, Meg, he said quietly. He's probably just another
hiker. He gave me a quick smile, but I
could tell he wasn't totally convinced.
We started walking again, a little faster now.
I tried to focus on the path, on getting back home, but I
couldn't help it. I kept listening for him.
That's when I heard it. Footsteps.
Light at first, like maybe I was just imagining them, but they
were there, crunching along right in time with ours.
Ryan must have heard it too, because he looked back once more
and I could see his face tense up.
The man was closer now, still staring, still following us.
Ryan. I whispered, barely louder than
a breath. He didn't say a word, just
nodded and quickened his pace, pulling me along with him.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
Why was he following us? What did he want?
The faster we walked, the faster he followed.
The footsteps never stopped, always keeping the same distance
behind us. My legs felt shaky, and every
time I looked back, there he was, just getting closer.
His face never changed, not even a flicker of emotion.
Let's get off the trail, Ryan said suddenly, his voice tight.
He nodded toward the narrow path that diverged through the woods,
a shortcut that we had taken a few other times.
I didn't argue. We veered off, feet crunching
over sticks and dry leaves as the trees closed in around us.
The path was darker, more tangled.
It felt like we were wading deeper into shadows.
I hoped maybe we could lose him, that he'd just give up and leave
us alone. But even as we ran through the
underbrush, I could still hear it, the crunch of leaves steady
and relentless. He was following us, and no
matter how fast we went, he kept on coming.
The woods seemed to close in on us, the branches outstretched
like twisted hands. I didn't know where we were
headed, but I knew one thing. We had to get out.
Ryan yanked me toward the shortcut, his voice tight and
urgent. We have to take it now.
I didn't argue. My heart was pounding too hard
for me to say anything anyway. We stepped off the main trail
onto the narrower 1, and it suddenly became a whole
different world. Everything felt different.
The air grew colder, the trees closing in around us.
They're twisted branches locking overhead like a net.
We appeared to be trapped, the forest closing in around us.
My feet slipped over rocks and tangled roots, and I had to grab
Ryan's arm just to keep from falling.
I kept hoping maybe we'd lost him, maybe the man would give up
and leave us alone. But the woods were too silent.
My ears strained to catch every sound.
The wind made the branches creak overhead, and every now and then
a bird in the distance sounded off in some abstract cadence.
But there was no real solace in it.
My legs ached from running. My breathing came in short,
panicked gasps, and then there it was again.
Footsteps, not ours. The crunching sound of leaves,
deliberate and steady, came from behind.
My stomach twisted, and a jolt of fear shot through me.
He was still there, still following us.
Ryan tugged on my arm, his eyes wide and serious.
We have to get out of here fast. He whispered.
He glanced over his shoulder, his face pale as the light
quickly gave way to twilight. I felt his grip tighten around
my hand, and I could tell he was scared too.
We pressed onward, stumbling through the undergrowth.
The light was fading fast, and with every step, I felt myself
getting more and more lost. It was as if the trees were
closing in on me, and I couldn't tell where we were anymore.
Everything began to look the same, dark trunks, twisted
branches, and thick shadows. Ryan.
I said, my voice breaking. I don't know where we are.
Panic crawled up inside me, threatening to take over.
Ryan stopped and looked around, but all he saw were trees in
every direction. It was growing darker and I
could hear the footsteps getting closer.
It sounded like the man was gliding through the woods, like
nothing slowed him down. How was he still there?
Why wouldn't he stop? Ryan pulled me again and we
stumbled on through the trees. My feet caught on roots, my arms
scraped against rough branches. I could hear my breathing loud,
too loud, and the pounding of my heart and my ears.
My legs were shaking and every time I looked back all I could
see was darkness. But I knew he was there, I could
feel it. I forced my attention to Ryan's
hand, his voice telling me to keep moving.
We'll be OK, Meg, he said, but his voice was tight, strained,
like he was trying to convince himself too.
The woods dragged on and on, and I felt tiny, like we'd been
dropped into some kind of twisted maze from which there
was no escape. And yet I could hear him, those
footsteps, always there, always just behind us.
I did not dare think about it, did not want to imagine him
bringing his stride closer and closer.
I just kept moving, one step at a time, trying not to trip over
anything, trying not to let the fear take over.
But it felt as though we were running out of time.
I could feel the cold inching in and the darkness swallowing us
up. We had to get out, we had to.
But as I stumbled on, my legs aching and my heart pounding,
all I could think was that the woods felt like they wanted to
keep us forever. We pushed through the woods, our
feet hardly finding any solid ground to push off from.
Ryan saw it first, the cabin just barely visible through the
trees there. He panted, pointing.
The place looked old, its wooden walls were covered in Moss and
the windows were cracked. But at that moment, it was our
only hope. My legs were on fire as we ran
toward it, slipping on the wet leaves, my heart hammering so
hard I could hardly think. Ryan got to the door first.
He pushed it open and it creaked loudly.
We both tumbled inside and the door slammed shut behind us, the
sound bouncing off the tiny cabin's walls.
Inside, the air was cold and damp, smelling of mold and wet
wood. I pressed my back against the
door, trying to catch my breath, my whole body shaking
uncontrollably with fear and exhaustion.
It was dark inside, Light from a small window on the opposite
wall was just enough to see by. Everything felt cramped and it
was hard to breathe, like the walls were pressing in on us.
Ryan quickly moved around, looking for something to
barricade the door with. He spotted an old, broken chair
and jammed it under the doorknob.
It didn't feel like nearly enough.
Nothing did. We froze.
The only sound in the cabin was our breathing.
I strained my ears, listening for him.
Maybe he had lost us. Maybe he'd finally given up.
Then it came. One soft, deliberate knock.
My stomach dropped and shivers ran over me, tensing every
muscle in my body. The knock came again, slow,
steady, almost as if he was playing with us.
Ryan looked around, his eyes wide.
Inside, the cabin was empty except for a few rusted tools
and a dirty table forced against the wall.
Then he saw it. A small window at the back.
He turned to me, his voice barely above a whisper.
Megan, we have to go now. I nodded, my mouth too dry to
speak. Ryan helped me climb through the
window first. It was small, and I had to cram
my way through my feet, landing softly on the ground outside.
The cold air smacked into me, and I looked around at the dark
woods, half expecting him to be there, but all that was there
were shadows and branches. Ryan climbed out after me,
dropping down beside me. He took my hand and we ran off,
feet crunching through leaves, snapping twigs.
The woods just seemed to be endless, and the darkness
swallowed us up as we ran. I could hear our frantic
breathing, the rustling of branches as we bent and pushed
through. It was like the trees were
trying to grab at us, the twigs scratching at my skin like
skeletal fingers. I didn't dare look back.
I didn't want to see him, to know if he was still there,
still following, But I could feel it, the sense that he was
always just out of sight, always there, always close.
It felt like he was playing with us, waiting for us to tire out,
to wait for just the right moment.
My legs felt as if they were on fire, my lungs burned with each
breath. I just wanted to stop, to rest,
but I couldn't. We couldn't.
We had to go on. Then in an instant, I saw an
opening in the trees. A Rd.
Ryan. I yelled, my voice cracking.
I pointed and we both ran toward it, feet tripping over roots and
rocks, desperation carrying us forward.
The road was empty, but then in the distance, I saw headlights.
A car was coming. We ran into the road and waved
our arms, hoping and praying they would stop.
The car slowed down and I could see the driver, an older man
with a worried expression. He rolled down the window.
Are you 2 OK? He asked, his voice full of
concern. Just drive.
Ryan said, shaking. We jumped into the back seat,
slamming the door shut behind us.
The driver nodded and took off, the roads stretching out before
us, away from the woods. I looked out the back window and
scoured the trees, my eyes scanning for a second.
I saw him, a figure at the edge of the woods, his posture rigid,
as if he were waiting for something.
A shiver ran down my back, and suddenly my chest fell tight
with fear. Then the trees passed from view,
and he was swallowed up by the darkness.
The driver took us into town, and Ryan and I didn't say a
word. Our hands were shaking, our
minds still trying to handle all that had happened.
The woods were always a place of peace, a place we loved.
Now they were a place of nightmares, a place we would
never, ever go back to. The fog rolled in fast,
swallowing everything in its path, an endless wall of grey
that seemed to have no beginning and no end.
It wasn't just a fog, it had a presence, something almost
sentient in the way it moved, creeping along the forest floor
as if searching for something. 1 moment I could see the trees
around me, the next. They had transformed into
looming shadows, barely visible through the thick shroud.
We were making our way back to the campsite, me, Lisa, Josh,
Elena, and Ryan, after a long day of hiking.
I remember the easy laughter as we trudged down the trail,
joking about how good a hot meal was going to feel once we got
back. But then the mist began to seep
in, curling around the trunks of the trees.
It was gradual at first, but before any of us could react, it
was all consuming. The world shrank until it was
just me and that fog. No trail, no friends, just me.
I called out once, twice. My voice echoed for a second
before the damp air swallowed it whole.
The laughter from moments earlier had disappeared.
All I could hear were distant shouts from the others,
disembodied voices somewhere in that dense mist, each one
growing fainter. It was like I was listening to
ghosts, people who had once been there but were now lost.
The fog seemed to absorb them, taking their voices along with
it. I kept moving, my hands
stretched out in front of me, stumbling over roots and rocks I
couldn't see. I had no idea which direction to
go. The path was gone, erased, and
there was nothing but the grayness.
I kept calling their names, Lisa, Josh, but there was no
answer. The forest had gone eerily
quiet, the kind of silence that made me think even the birds had
decided to leave. Hours later, though I couldn't
really say how much time had passed, the search team found
me. I didn't even realize they were
there until I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a voice in my
ear asking if I was OK. I must have looked like I had
seen something, because they gave me a long, hard look before
leading me away. The fog was still thick,
clinging to the forest like it had a grip on it.
But now I was part of a group again.
The rescuers were all wearing bright orange jackets, moving in
pairs, their radios crackling as they spoke to each other.
There was something reassuring about those jackets, something
real in all that unreality. They led me through the forest,
calling out for the others. Their voices were loud,
confident, not like mine, which had been swallowed by the mist.
I kept my eyes down, focused on the ground so I wouldn't trip.
When we found Lisa, she was sitting in a small clearing,
legs crossed, staring at nothing.
Her eyes were wide, her lips moving, whispering something I
couldn't make out. One of the rescuers knelt beside
her, trying to get her to respond.
I stepped closer, straining to hear what she was saying.
It was just one word, over and over again.
The watchers. She whispered, her voice barely
audible. The watchers in the fog, they're
waiting. There was something about the
way she said it, like she had seen something I couldn't, that
sent a chill through me. We found the others not far
away, scattered, in a similar state, sitting or lying on the
wet ground, whispering to themselves.
Their eyes were unfocused, staring into the haze.
They weren't really there, not entirely.
It took time to coax them to their feet, to get them moving.
They walked like sleepwalkers, each step unsteady, like the
ground beneath them was shifting.
The rescuers tried to talk to them, tried to get them to say
what had happened, but none of them would answer.
It was as if they were still lost, still wandering somewhere
deep in the fog. And even though I was with them
now, part of me felt like I was still lost, too.
The rescuers started leading us back, forming a loose line
through the fog, their orange jackets bright beacons in that
wall of grey. I kept my eyes on the one in
front of me, counting each step, trying not to think about the
silence. It was the kind of silence that
seemed unnatural, heavy, pressing down on us.
Even our footsteps seemed to vanish, muffled by the damp air.
Then came the sound, faint at first, so soft I thought I was
imagining it. A rustling, like dry leaves
shifting, though there were no leaves on the ground, just wet
earth. It seemed to come from
everywhere at once, a background noise that made it hard to
focus. The others heard it too.
I saw them turn their heads, straining to hear, their faces
tight with confusion. But no one said anything.
No one wanted to break whatever fragile peace we had managed to
create by moving again. As we walked, the rustling grew
louder, changing into something else.
It was whispering, low, overlapping voices, impossible
to make out. I glanced at the others.
Their eyes were wide, darting from side to side, scanning the
fog. I could see the tension in their
shoulders, the way their steps quickened.
The whispering was coming from the fog itself, from every
direction surrounding us. Lisa, who had been walking
beside me, grabbed my arm. Her fingers dug into my sleeve,
her eyes wide and unblinking. She leaned in close, her breath
hot on my ear as she whispered. They know our names.
Her words jolted me. I wanted to tell her she was
wrong, that it was just the fog playing tricks, but the look on
her face stopped me. She was terrified.
And then I heard it. My name whispered in that same
low, overlapping murmur. It was there for just a moment,
then gone, swallowed by the rest of the whispers.
I turned, shining my flashlight into the fog, but there was
nothing, just the endless Gray. The rescuers were talking now,
their voices raised, trying to keep us moving.
Their radios crackled with static, the words breaking up,
fading in and out. I caught fragments, coordinates,
a mention of more searchers on the way, but it all felt
distant, unimportant. All I could focus on were the
whispers, the way they seemed to shift, growing louder than
softer, like they were moving around us.
Lisa's grip on my arm tightened and she looked at me, her eyes
wide and wet. They know who we are.
She said, her voice barely audible over the whispers.
I wanted to tell her it wasn't real, that it was just the fog,
but I couldn't bring myself to say the words, not when I could
hear my own name again, whispered right beside my ear.
The fog pressed in closer, the whispers growing louder, more
insistent. Shadows moved at the edges of my
vision, flickering shapes that disappeared when I turned to
look. The others were starting to
panic. I could see it in the way they
moved, their steps growing faster, more erratic.
One of the rescuers shouted something, but his words were
lost in the noise. Then Lisa screamed.
It was a raw, desperate sound that cut through everything
else. She was staring into the fog,
her face pale, her eyes wide with terror.
They're coming, she yelled. They're coming for us.
The rescuers tried to calm her, but the whispers were everywhere
now, so loud it felt like they were inside my head.
I grabbed Lisa's hand, pulling her forward, trying to keep her
moving. The others were doing the same,
dragging the campers along, their faces set, their eyes
darting from side to side. We had to keep moving.
We had to get out of that fog. But with every step, the
whispers grew louder, the shadows moved closer, and I knew
we weren't alone out there. We ran, stumbling over roots and
rocks that seemed to spring up out of nowhere, our breaths
ragged and forced. The fog clung to us, moving with
us as if it had a mind of its own.
It wasn't letting us go. The whispers rose to a deafening
chorus, each voice overlapping the other, creating a sound that
filled every inch of my head. It was relentless, an invasion
that I couldn't escape from no matter how fast I moved.
Lisa kept looking back, her eyes darting to the shifting shapes
in the mist. She muttered under her breath,
her voice shaking as she repeated the same thing over and
over. They're coming, they're coming.
Her terror was contagious, spreading through the group like
wildfire. The rescuers tried to keep
order, their voices raised, trying to cut through the chaos,
but the whispers drowned them out.
I could see them now, the shapes in the fog flickering shadows
just out of reach, gliding along the edges of my vision.
They were tall, impossibly thin, their movements fluid and
unnatural. Their eyes, if they had eyes,
were dark hollows, empty and endless.
They moved with purpose, and it was clear they were following
us, closing in with every step we took.
David, one of the rescuers, stumbled, and I watched as one
of those shadows reached for him, its arm extending out of
the fog, a long skeletal limb that seemed to stretch forever.
I grabbed David's arm, yanking him upright, and we kept moving,
the shadow disappearing back into the mist.
He didn't say anything, but his eyes were wide, and I could see
the fear in them. He had seen it, too.
The ground beneath us felt different now, soft, almost like
it was shifting under our feet. It was as if the forest itself
was turning against us, trying to trap us, to keep us from
leaving. The whispers grew louder, angry,
the tone shifting from a murmur to something more menacing.
They weren't just following us. They were hunting us, and they
knew exactly who we were. We broke through the edge of the
fog without warning. 1 moment we were surrounded, the world
nothing but Gray and shadows, and the next we were out.
The air was clear, the stars visible above, and the whispers
stopped. It was like stepping from one
world into another, the transition so sudden it took me
a moment to realize what had happened.
The campers collapsed, their legs giving out beneath them,
their eyes wide and unfocused. I turned, looking back at the
wall of fog that lingered at the tree line.
For a moment I thought I saw them, tall, thin figures moving
within the mist, their forms flickering like they were part
of the fog itself. Then they were gone, swallowed
up by the Gray. David was beside me, his face
pale, his eyes locked on the fog.
What were they? He asked, his voice barely more
than a whisper. I didn't have an answer.
All I knew was that we had been watched, haunted, and somehow we
had made it out. Lisa's voice was quiet, almost
lost in the night. They're still there.
She said, her eyes fixed on the fog.
They're always there, watching. None of us spoke as we led the
campers away, the fog slowly dissolving into the night.
But I knew she was right. The watchers were still there,
somewhere in the fog, waiting for the next time someone
wandered too far, too deep, and I knew with a cold certainty
that they would not be so lucky if they ever returned.
The evening air was crisp and the sky stretched clear above
the forest. It was supposed to be just
another walk with Max, the kind I took to unwind from the day.
Max trotted ahead, his tail wagging, and I followed, feeling
the familiar crunch of leaves under foot.
We usually stuck to the main trails, but tonight something
was different. A path I had never noticed
before caught my eye. Narrow and winding, it seemed to
beckon me. Curiosity tugged at me, and
despite the small voice in the back of my mind warning against
it, I turned down the path, Max loyally following the further we
went, the stranger it all seemed.
The trees stood taller here, their branches intertwining
above us like a canopy of skeletal fingers.
Max hesitated, his ears standing straight as his head darted back
and forth. The air was growing colder, and
it felt like the forest was shifting around me, stretched,
warped. A heavy silence fell over the
path. Max, usually carefree, now
seemed on edge, his hackles slowly rising.
I tried to push aside the unease that was steadily growing inside
me. This was just a path, a part of
the forest I had never explored. That was all.
But as the minutes ticked by, the daylight dimmed far faster
than it should have. I glanced at my watch, puzzled.
Hours had passed, but it felt like mere moments.
I pulled out my phone, expecting the reassuring glow of the
screen. Nothing.
No signal. The battery indicator blinked,
warning of low power. Max growled softly, his gaze
fixed ahead into the darkening forest.
The silence seemed to swallow every sound I made.
My calls for help, half hearted at first and then desperate,
disappeared into the stillness. Max stood rigid beside me, his
growl turning into a low rumble. There was something there.
I couldn't see it, but I knew it.
The rustling came from the shadows up ahead.
Relief flooded me. Another person, someone who
could guide us out of this madness.
But when I saw who, or rather what, emerged from the dark, the
relief turned to icy terror. It was me.
Another version of me, emerging from the forest's grip, His
face, my face twisted into an unnatural grin.
Beside him was Max, or something that looked like Max.
But those eyes, they were all wrong.
Empty and dark, devoid of any warmth.
The doppelganger watched me without blinking, its movements
synchronized with my own, as if mocking me.
I felt my grip on reality begin to slip.
The other me took a step forward, and that was enough.
I turned and ran, my feet pounding against the uneven
path, branches clawing at my clothes as if trying to pull me
back. Max barked, a sound filled with
panic. The forest twisted around us, a
maze that seemed intent on keeping us lost.
Every turn I made led to another cluster of dark, looming trees.
My lungs screamed for air, my legs ached, but I didn't dare
stop. Behind me, I could hear
footsteps. Steady, deliberate, getting
closer. Just when my body was ready to
give out, the forest opened. The tree line broke abruptly,
and I stumbled out onto the familiar Rd. that led home.
I didn't stop running until I reached my front door.
I slammed it shut behind me, locking it, my hands trembling.
Max panted heavily at my feet, his eyes wide, his body shaking.
I collapsed to the floor, wrapping my arms around Max,
trying to calm the chaos inside me.
But as I looked into his eyes, something gnawed at me.
There was something different there, a glint that wasn't quite
right. Was it really Max sitting beside
me? And then the question that
chilled me to the core. Was I still myself?
The house was quiet, but it felt like the kind of quiet that held
secrets. I moved from room to room,
checking the locks, pulling the curtains tight, trying to find a
sense of security and mundane actions.
Max followed, his ears perked, his nose twitching at the air.
He seemed just as restless as I was, and that only made the knot
in my stomach tighten. It was late when I heard it.
A knock at the door. Soft at first, almost polite.
I froze, my eyes darting toward the sound.
It came again, louder this time. My name followed, spoken in a
voice that matched mine perfectly.
My blood ran cold, my feet refusing to move.
The knock turned to pounding, and the voice grew more
insistent, as though it knew I was there, hiding.
Max started barking, his growl echoing through the empty house.
The pounding was relentless now, shaking the door in its frame.
I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet, my eyes fixed
on the door as if it might burst open at any moment.
The windows rattled, and I could see shadows moving outside,
slipping across the walls like dark spectres.
I grabbed a knife from the kitchen, my hands trembling as I
backed away, the pounding turning into an overwhelming
cacophony. The laughter started then, a
twisted, mocking sound that made my skin crawl.
It was my laugh, but hollow, stripped of anything human.
I retreated to the basement, slamming the door behind me and
throwing the bolt Max at my heels.
The basement was dark, the only light coming from the dim glow
of my phone. Max stood by the door, his eyes
locked on the shadowy corners. I strained my ears, listening.
It was quiet for a moment, but then I heard it.
A faint scratching, not from the door, but from inside the
basement. My breath caught as I turned,
the flashlight flickering as I pointed it toward the far
corner. For a moment I saw it.
Another version of myself, crouched in the darkness, its
eyes glinting with a malevolent light.
The flashlight blinked out, and the basement was plunged Into
Darkness. I heard movement, the shuffling
of feet, something shifting closer.
Panic surged through me, and I swung the knife wildly,
desperate to keep whatever it was at Bay.
I stumbled backward, my phone clutched tightly, its weak light
barely illuminating the steps as I scrambled up.
The laughter was there again, closer, almost whispering in my
ear. I threw myself against the
basement door, bursting back into the house.
I could hear something slam against the door as I shut it
behind me, the bolt barely sliding into place in time.
I didn't stop. I grabbed Max and ran for the
back door, tearing it open and rushing out into the cold night
air. I ran across the yard, my
neighbor's house a beacon of safety.
I pounded on their door until they answered, my voice a
frantic mess as I tried to explain.
They let me in, their confused faces barely registering through
the haze of fear. Max stayed close, his eyes wide,
his body trembling. The police came, but they found
nothing. No sign of forced entry, no
stranger in the woods. They looked at me with
scepticism, their questions hinting at doubt.
I knew what I saw. I knew what was out there.
As I sat in my neighbour's living room, Max curled beside
me. I glanced at my reflection in
the window. It stared back, but I couldn't
help but wonder if it was really me, or if something else had
followed us here, hiding just beneath the surface.