It all seemed like a good idea at the time, getting away from
it all the city noise, the crowds, the responsibilities,
just us, the forest and the crackle of a campfire to keep
U.S. company. Dale was the one who suggested
the Idaho wilderness. He said he knew a spot way off
the beaten path, a place no one else would think to go.
Honestly, it sounded perfect. A bit too perfect, maybe, but at
that moment I wasn't thinking about anything but getting away.
The road wound on for miles, nothing but a narrow ribbon of
dirt cutting through the thick woods.
Pine trees stretched up so high you could barely see the sky,
their branches arching overhead to block out what little sun
managed to filter through. The deeper we went, the quieter
it got. No birds, no wind, just the low
hum of the truck's engine and the crunch of gravel under the
tires. It wasn't exactly the postcard
picture of tranquillity I'd imagined, but there was
something about it that drew me in.
Like stepping into another world.
Tom leaned forward from the back seat, staring out the window.
Think we're going to find Bigfoot out here or what?
He asked with a grin. Dale just laughed, his hand
steady on the wheel. More like we'll find out how
fast we can run if we do. He said, his eyes focused on the
road ahead. I tried to laugh too, but it
came out more like a cough. I don't know why I felt uneasy
already. Maybe it was the fact that my
phone lost service an hour back, or maybe it was just the way the
trees seemed to press in on us, like they were closing off any
way out. Whatever it was, I kept it to
myself. We finally made it to the
clearing by late afternoon, a small patch of open ground next
to a calm lake. The water was so still it looked
like glass, reflecting the treetops perfectly, like a
portal to another world beneath the surface.
We all got out, stretched our legs, and set to work unpacking.
Dale and Tom started on the tents while Emily and Sarah
gathered firewood. I took a walk around the edge of
the clearing, just trying to shake off the feeling that had
settled in my chest. There wasn't much to see, just
trees, more trees and a few deer tracks leading down to the
water. I watched the lake for a while,
feeling the quiet settle over me.
It wasn't peaceful quiet, though.
It was the kind that makes your skin crawl, like you're being
watched, but you can't quite tell from where.
You all right, Matt? Sarah called from behind me, her
arms full of branches. I turned and forced to smile.
Yeah, just taking it all in. I said, and she nodded, though
her eyes stayed on me a little longer than I liked.
That night we sat around the fire, flames flickering against
the darkness that pressed in from all sides.
Dale told stories, mostly the kind meant to make us laugh, but
then he moved on to something else.
Something Sarah had mentioned earlier, A legend she'd heard
from her grandmother. A skinwalker, he called it.
A witch that could take on the shape of anything, even people.
He made it sound like a joke, but his eyes kept flicking to
the shadows between the trees. Come on, Dale, quit trying to
freak us out. Emily said, tossing a pine cone
into the fire, but her voice had a nervous edge to it and she
kept glancing over her shoulder. Dale raised his hands in
surrender. All right, all right, I'm just
saying, if you see me wandering around out there, don't follow.
We all laughed, but it wasn't real laughter.
It was the kind that came out too quick, too loud, the kind
that was meant to cover up the silence.
I found myself watching the edge of the clearing, half expecting
to see something move just beyond the reach of the
firelight. That night I lay in my tent,
staring up at the thin fabric ceiling, listening.
The wind had picked up, making the trees creak and sway, but
there was something else too. A rustling just outside.
I held my breath, trying to convince myself it was just an
animal, maybe a deer or a raccoon.
But the sound was slow, deliberate, moving closer until
it was right beside my tent. My heart pounded, and I forced
myself to look. Slowly, I unzipped the flap just
enough to see out. Nothing.
Just darkness and the faint glow of the dying campfire.
I let out a breath, feeling foolish, and zipped the tent
back up, but even after I closed my eyes, I couldn't shake the
feeling that something had been there, watching.
Morning came too soon, the light pale and cold as it filtered
through the trees. Dale was already up, poking at
the fire. He looked over at me and gave a
nod. Sleep all right?
He asked, but I could see the same unease in his eyes that I
felt in my chest. Yeah, I lied like a baby.
We both knew it wasn't true, but neither of us said anything
more. The morning started off uneasy.
You ever have one of those moments where you wake up and it
feels like the world has shifted just a little while you slept?
Like something's out of place but you can't put your finger on
it? That's exactly how I felt as I
crawled out of the tent, the cool morning air wrapping around
me. Dale was already by the fire,
coaxing what was left of the coals into a weak flame.
He gave me a nod and a half smile, but it didn't reach his
eyes. Coffee.
He asked, holding up the pot. Sure, I could use some.
I said, rubbing at my eyes. The unease from last night
hadn't gone away, not entirely. It just kind of sat there under
the surface, like a splinter you can't quite get to.
Emily and Tom were still in their tents, but Sarah was
wandering near the edge of the clearing, staring up at the
trees. She had that look, like she was
searching for something, but wasn't sure what she'd find.
I wandered over, coffee in hand, and stood beside her.
You all right? I asked.
She didn't answer right away, just kept looking at the trees,
her eyes following something invisible.
Do you see those? She finally said, pointing at a
nearby trunk. I squinted and stepped closer.
There were marks in the bark, deep jagged lines almost like
letters, but nothing I recognized.
The cuts looked fresh, the wood beneath still bright and raw.
Probably just kids messing around, I said, but even as I
said it, I knew that didn't make sense.
We were miles from anywhere, way off any trail, and the marks
didn't look random. They felt deliberate, like
someone had put real thought into them.
Sarah frowned, her fingers tracing the edges of the marks
without touching them. My grandma used to talk about
stuff like this, she said, her voice low.
She'd say these kinds of symbols are a warning.
I tried to brush it off with a smile.
Well, that's comforting. She looked at me, her eyes
serious. I'm not joking, Matt.
I don't like this. I didn't either, but I didn't
want to admit it. Let's just keep an eye out, OK?
I said, trying to sound confident.
I'm sure it's nothing. The rest of the morning passed
slowly. The others eventually woke up
and we decided to go for a hike. Dale led the way, his backpack
slung over one shoulder, acting like nothing was wrong.
But I could see it in the way he kept glancing over his shoulder,
the way his jokes fell flat. We were all on edge, even if no
one wanted to say it out loud. The deeper we went into the
woods, the quieter it got. I know it sounds cliche, but it
was true. No birds, no rustling leaves,
just the sound of our footsteps crunching on the forest floor.
Every now and then I thought I heard something, a rustling off
to the side, a snap of a twig. But every time I looked, there
was nothing there, just trees and shadows.
At one point, Tom stopped dead in his tracks, staring at
something ahead of us. What is that?
He asked, his voice barely a whisper.
We all gathered around, looking where he was pointing.
At first I didn't see anything, but then I spotted it.
A deer carcass, half hidden in the underbrush.
It had been torn apart, its ribs exposed, the flesh ripped away
like something had gotten to it in a hurry.
Flies buzzed around the remains, and the air smelled sour, like
blood and rot. Cougar, maybe?
Dale said, but he didn't sound convinced.
Doesn't look right, Sarah muttered.
She was right, it didn't. The body wasn't just torn up, it
was arranged, almost. The legs bent at strange angles,
the head twisted to the side. It looked placed, like someone
had meant for us to find it. A shiver ran down my spine and I
turned away. Let's keep moving.
I said, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be.
No one argued that night back at camp.
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
We sat around the fire, the flames casting long, flickering
shadows across the clearing. No one was in the mood for ghost
stories. Even Dale was quiet, staring
into the fire like he was trying to find answers there.
It was just after midnight when the whispers started.
At first I thought I was imagining it, a faint sound like
wind through the branches. But it had a rhythm to it, a
pattern. I strained to listen, my heart
pounding. It was saying something, my
name. I swear I heard my name
whispered from somewhere out there in the dark.
Did you hear that? Emily's voice was barely a
breath. She was sitting across from me,
her eyes wide, her face pale in the fire light.
I nodded, my mouth dry. Yeah, I heard it.
Dale stood up, turning in a slow circle, his flashlight sweeping
across the trees. The beam flickered, the
batteries dying, and for just a second I thought I saw
something, a shape, tall and thin, standing just beyond the
fire light. Then the beam came back, and it
was gone. Who's out there?
Dale called, his voice cracking. No answer, just the whispers
getting louder, circling us like something was moving just out of
sight. Let's go check it out.
Tom said, but no one moved. We all knew better.
Whatever was out there, we didn't want to find it.
The whispers kept going, and I could feel the fear rising in my
chest, my pulse pounding in my ears.
It felt like the darkness was closing in, pressing against the
edge of the firelight, and I knew deep down that we weren't
alone. Something was out there, and it
was watching us, and it knew our names.
The morning came with a chill that settled deep in my bones.
The sun barely pierced the heavy blanket of mist that hung over
the clearing. It felt like the light itself
was hesitant to enter the woods, like it knew better.
I crawled out of the tent and found Sarah sitting by the cold
fire pit, staring at the ashes. You sleep at all?
I asked, my voice sounding too loud in the stillness.
She shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the ashes.
Not really, she said. I kept hearing things.
Yeah, me too. I sat down beside her.
I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine,
that we were just scaring ourselves, but I couldn't make
myself say it, not after last night.
The others were stirring too. Emily emerged from her tent, her
face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
Dale looked like he hadn't slept at all, his hair sticking up in
all directions, his eyes bloodshot.
Tom tried to keep the mood light cracking, a joke about needing
coffee stronger than what we had, but no one laughed.
We all felt it. Something had changed.
We weren't just out here camping anymore, we were being hunted.
We decided to stay close to camp that day.
No one said it, but we all knew we didn't want to stray too far
from whatever small comfort the fire could bring us.
Dale and Tom went to gather more wood while I stayed with Sarah
and Emily. I kept my eyes on the tree line,
scanning the shadows for movement, but the woods were as
still as they'd been since we got there too.
Still, do you really think it could be what I said?
Sarah asked after a while, her voice barely more than a
whisper. A skinwalker?
I paused, not wanting to dismiss her, but not wanting to give it
power either. I don't know, but whatever it
is, it's messing with us. Sarah looked at me, her eyes
wide and filled with fear. They say it feeds on fear.
The more scared you are, the stronger it gets.
Well, that's just great. I muttered, trying to sound
braver than I felt. Guess we'd better try not to be
scared then. Easier said than done,
especially when a few hours later, Dale and Tom came back
with faces as pale as ghosts. Dale was holding something in
his hand, and as he got closer I saw what it was.
A piece of cloth, torn and stained dark red.
He didn't say anything, just held it out for us to see.
Where'd you find that? Emily asked, her voice
trembling. By the lake.
Tom said there were more pieces. Like someone.
He trailed off, and I knew what he meant.
Like someone hadn't made it out of the woods.
We all just stared at each other, the silence thick and
heavy. I could see it in their eyes,
the realization that we were in real danger now.
This wasn't just some creepy noises in the dark.
Whatever was out there, it had already taken someone.
Maybe more than one. All right, I said, standing up,
trying to keep my voice steady. We're leaving tonight.
I don't care if it's dark, we're getting out of here.
No one argued. We spent the rest of the day
packing up camp, moving in a daze.
Every little sound made us jump, branches creaking, leaves
rustling. It all felt wrong, like the
forest was watching us, waiting for us to make a mistake.
By the time the sun started to dip below the horizon, we were
ready to go. We just had to get to the
trucks. It wasn't that far, maybe a
mile, but with every step the air seemed to get heavier, like
something was pushing back against us.
I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being followed,
that if I turned around I'd see something standing there, just
out of sight. The first whispers started just
as the last light faded, my name, soft and mocking, drifting
through the trees. I glanced at Sarah.
Her face was white as a sheet, her eyes wide.
She heard it too. Keep moving.
I said, my voice barely holding together.
Don't look back. The whispers grew louder,
circling us. Emily let out a sob, and I
reached back, grabbing her hand, pulling her along.
Dale was ahead of us, his flashlight flickering, the beam
cutting through the darkness like a knife.
And then, just for a moment, I saw it.
Something tall, impossibly thin, standing between the trees.
Its face looked like Dales, twisted in a grin that wasn't
human. I stumbled, nearly falling, my
heart hammering in my chest. Go.
I shouted. Just keep going.
We broke into a run, the woods blurring around us.
The whispers turned into laughter, echoing from every
direction, and I swear I could hear it breathing behind me,
could feel its eyes on my back. The trail seemed to stretch on
forever, the darkness closing in tighter with every step.
And then, finally, I saw the trucks.
I almost couldn't believe it, like they were a mirage
shimmering in the dim light of the moon.
We burst out of the trees, panting, and I didn't stop until
I reached the door, my hands shaking as I fumble for the
keys. Get in, get in.
I shouted, the panic in my voice undeniable now.
The others piled in, slamming the door shut, and I turned the
key. The engine roared to life and I
hit the gas, gravel spraying as we tore out of there, the trees
falling away behind us. I didn't look back, I couldn't.
But as we speed down the dirt Rd.
I saw something in the side mirror, a shape standing at the
edge of the clearing, watching us leave.
It looked like me. I don't know how long I drove.
The road blurred together in the darkness, nothing but a narrow
line cutting through the endless trees.
I just kept my foot on the gas, my eyes darting to the side
mirror, expecting to see that shape following us.
It was quiet in the truck except for our breathing, sharp and
panicked. No one said a word.
We were all too afraid that if we spoke, it might make whatever
had happened real. The headlights carved a path
through the woods, the beam bouncing as we hit every dip and
rut in the road. I glanced at Sarah in the
passenger seat, She was staring straight ahead, her face pale,
her hands gripping the dashboard.
Behind us. I could hear Emily crying softly
and Dale mumbling under his breath like he was trying to
convince himself it was all over.
I wanted to believe it too. Finally, the trees started to
thin and the dirt Rd. gave way to pavement.
I took a deep breath, my shoulders sagging with relief.
We made it, we were out. I pulled over onto the shoulder,
my hands shaking as I put the truck in.
Park, we're OK? I said, though my voice cracked.
We're out. Sarah nodded, her eyes still
wide. She let out a shaky breath and
looked back at the others. Everyone all right?
Emily sniffled, wiping her eyes. Yeah, yeah, I think so.
Dale just nodded, his jaw clenched tight.
Tom, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up.
What? What the hell was that?
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
I shook my head. I don't know.
I don't think I want to know. And that was the truth.
Whatever it was, it wasn't something that fit into our
world. It belonged out there, in the
dark, in the places people weren't supposed to go.
I took a deep breath and turned the key, ready to get us far
away from that place. But just as I reached for the
gear shift, I saw something. A piece of paper fluttering
under the windshield wiper. My stomach dropped.
Hang on, I said, my voice tight. I opened the door, stepping out
into the cold night air. The road was empty, nothing but
darkness stretching out in both directions.
I reached for the paper, my fingers trembling as I pulled it
free. It was old, yellowed, like it
had been left out in the weather for too long.
The handwriting was shaky, almost childlike, scrawled in
dark ink. Don't come back.
My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
I turned, looking back at the woods.
There was nothing there, just shadows and trees.
But I could feel it, that same presence, that same weight, like
eyes on the back of my neck. I got back in the truck,
slamming the door shut. What is it?
Sarah asked, her voice trembling.
I showed her the note. She read it, her eyes widening,
and then handed it back without a word.
I crumpled it in my hand, my knuckles white.
We're leaving now. No one argued.
I put the truck in drive and we speed off, the tires kicking up
gravel as we pulled away from that place.
The road stretched out in front of us, and I kept my eyes on it,
refusing to look back. I didn't need to.
I knew it was still there, somewhere in the dark, watching
us leave. We drove for hours, not stopping
until we reached a small town, the first sign of civilization
we'd seen since we left the woods.
I pulled into a gas station, the neon lights buzzing overhead,
and turned off the engine. We all just sat there for a
moment, the silence pressing in on us.
Dale finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper.
What do we do now? I looked at him, then at the
others. Emily was staring out the
window, her eyes red from crying.
Tom was slumped in his seat, his face pale.
Sarah was still clutching the dashboard, her knuckles white.
We go home, I said. We forget this ever happened.
But I knew it wouldn't be that easy.
Even now, with the bright lights of the gas station around us, I
could still feel it. That sense of dread, that
feeling that we weren't alone. It was like a shadow clinging to
me, refusing to let go. We got out, stretching our legs,
the cold night air biting at our skin.
I watched as Dale filled the tank, his eyes darting around,
never staying still for long. Sarah stood beside me, her arms
wrapped around herself, her breath coming out in shaky
puffs. You think it's over?
She asked, her voice barely audible.
I wanted to tell her yes, that we were safe now, that whatever
it was couldn't follow us here, But I couldn't make myself say
it. Instead, I just shrugged.
I hope so. She nodded, her eyes distant.
Me too. We got back in the truck and I
drove us the rest of the way home.
No one spoke. The radio was off, and the only
sound was the hum of the engine and the tires on the pavement.
The farther we got from the woods, the lighter I felt, like
a weight was slowly lifting off my chest, but it never went away
completely, not really. By the time we reached the city,
the sky was starting to lighten, the first hints of dawn breaking
over the horizon. I dropped everyone off 1 by 1,
each of them giving me a silent nod before disappearing into
their homes. When I finally pulled into my
driveway, I just sat there for a moment, the engine ticking as it
cooled. I looked at the note still
crumpled in my hand and felt a chill run through me.
Don't come back. I wasn't planning on it.
It all started out like any other thrill seeking adventure.
Me, Brian and Jerry had run out of places to explore in our
small town. We'd hit every abandoned church,
mall, and rundown house we could find.
You know the kind of places where the roof is caving in and
the air smells like mildew and broken dreams.
But honestly, we were getting bored.
We wanted something bigger, scarier.
So when Jerry mentioned Forest Haven Asylum, well, it felt like
the next logical step. Or at least that's what we told
ourselves. Come on, it's supposed to be
haunted, Jerry said, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
I remember the way he said it, like he was daring us to say no.
And of course, we didn't. We just laughed and nodded,
pretending the idea didn't freak us out even a little bit.
The place had a reputation. Everyone knew that it was way
out in the woods, and the stories about it were not
exactly bedtime material. People said there were
experiments done there, inhumane ones, that it was haunted by the
ghosts of the patients who'd suffered.
And yeah, some people had even gone missing.
But that was all just urban legend, right?
At least that's what we kept saying to ourselves over and
over as we packed up our flashlights and snacks and
hopped into Brian's beat up car. The rain started on the drive
over, just a light drizzle at first, but by the time we were
deep into the forest it was coming down in sheets.
The road was barely visible, just a narrow strip of dirt that
twisted and turned between the trees.
Jerry was in the back seat, leaning forward between the
seats, talking a mile a minute about the asylum's history, how
it had been shut down in the 60s, how people said you could
still hear screams if you listened hard enough.
Dude, you're not helping. I said, half joking, trying to
keep my voice steady. But honestly, the way the wind
howled through the trees and the rain hammered against the car,
it felt like the forest itself didn't want us there.
Brian just grinned, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
You scared, man? He asked, and I laughed it off,
even though, yeah, I was. When we finally saw the
building, it looked even worse than I'd imagined.
It was huge, way bigger than it had looked in the pictures.
The windows were all shattered and the walls were covered in
dark, creeping vines. The rain made everything look
shiny and slick, like the place was sweating.
I shivered, but it wasn't just from the cold.
There was something off about it, like the air itself was
thicker here. We parked the car a little ways
off, just in case anyone drove by, not that anyone would this
far out. We grabbed our flashlights and I
remember hesitating for just a second before I opened my door.
I almost suggested we just turn around and go home, but then I
saw the look on Jerry's face, excited, almost giddy, and I
couldn't say it. I didn't want to be the one to
chicken out. As we made our way to the
asylum, we heard it. A voice, faint but clear enough
to make us all stop in our tracks.
Come join us, it said, just like that, like someone was standing
right there, whispering in our ears.
I looked around, my heart pounding, but there was no one.
Just trees and shadows and the sound of rain.
Probably just another group messing with us, Brian said, but
his voice sounded tight, like he was trying to convince himself.
Jerry just laughed. Yeah, or maybe the ghost wants
some company. He said, waggling his eyebrows.
I tried to laugh too, but it came out sounding more like a
cough. We found a broken window around
the side of the building and climbed in one by one.
The second I dropped into the basement, the smell hit me, like
something had died down there and never been found.
I gagged, pulling my shirt up over my nose.
Oh, gross, I muttered, my voice echoing off the concrete walls.
Welcome to Forest Haven, Jerry said, his voice a mock announcer
tone, and Brian snickered. But there was an edge to it,
like we were all trying a little too hard to act normal.
The basement was pitch black, our flashlights barely cutting
through the darkness. The walls were covered in
graffiti, some of it just names and dates, but other parts?
I don't know. Symbols maybe?
Weird shapes that seemed to twist and move when I looked at
them too long. I shook my head, trying to clear
it. We started moving through the
basement, our footsteps echoing. Everything was wet, the floor
slick beneath our feet. The deeper we went, the more I
felt it, that heaviness, like the air was pressing down on me.
I kept telling myself it was just my imagination, just the
stories getting to me. But then we heard it again.
A voice. This time it was a laugh, soft,
almost playful, but there was something wrong about it.
It echoed down the hallway, and I felt the hair on my arms stand
up. Jerry turned to us, his grin a
little shaky now. Guess we're not alone after all.
He said, and I forced myself to smile back.
But deep down I knew this was a bad idea.
A really, really bad idea, and we were just getting started.
We'd only been in the asylum for a few minutes, but already I
could feel that something was off.
The air was heavy, like it was weighing down on me, and that
awful rotting smell seemed to be getting worse the deeper we
went. I mean, I knew it was going to
be creepy, this was an abandoned asylum, after all.
But there was something else, something I couldn't quite put
my finger on. Do you guys hear that?
Brian asked, his voice low. He'd stopped walking, his
flashlight shining ahead of him. I strained to listen, and yeah,
there was something. It sounded like whispering, real
soft, coming from somewhere up ahead.
My heart started to pound, and I glanced over at Jerry.
He just shrugged, a grin still plastered on his face.
It's probably just the wind. Jerry said, like he was trying
to brush it off, but I could tell he was just as nervous as I
was. He kept looking around, his eyes
darting from shadow to shadow. Or maybe the ghosts are
welcoming us. Not funny, I muttered, but I
forced myself to move forward. We couldn't just stand there,
right? We had to keep going.
The walls were covered in graffiti, some of it just
nonsense, but some of it I don't know.
It almost looked like it was written in a different language
or something. Weird symbols that made my head
hurt if I looked at them for too long.
We kept walking, our footsteps echoing off the concrete.
It felt like we were making way too much noise, like we were
waking something up. I could feel my nerves getting
worse, like I was waiting for something to jump out at us.
Every time my flashlight flickered, I found myself
holding my breath. Jerry, of course, was still
talking a mile a minute, mostly about the experiment room.
Apparently some people thought they'd done all sorts of awful
things there, stuff they never wrote down, things they tried to
cover up. We should split up, he said
suddenly, turning around to look at me and Brian.
His eyes were wide, excited. Cover more ground, you know?
I froze. I mean, I'd seen enough horror
movies to know that splitting up was never a good idea, but Jerry
was already talking, pointing out different directions we
could go, and Brian was nodding along like he thought it made
sense. I don't know, guys, I started,
but then Jerry gave me this look like I was being a coward.
Come on, we're not going to find anything if we just stick
together, he said. Besides, we've got flashlights,
we'll be fine. I didn't feel fine, not at all,
but I didn't want to be the one to back out either, so I
swallowed my fear and nodded. OK, but let's meet back here in
10 minutes, all right? I said.
My voice sounded shaky, even to me.
Deal. Jerry said, clapping me on the
shoulder. Then he turned and walked off,
his flashlight bobbing up and down as he disappeared into the
dark. Brian gave me a small smile,
like he was trying to be reassuring, before heading off
in the opposite direction. Suddenly, I was alone.
The silence was deafening, and I could hear my own breathing,
loud and uneven. I tried to focus, shining my
flashlight down the hallway in front of me.
The walls were cracked, the paint peeling away in long,
curling strips. There were old, rusted gurneys
pushed up against the walls, and I couldn't help but wonder what
they'd been used for. I walked slowly, my shoes
slipping a little on the wet floor.
Every creak and groan of the building made me jump, and that
whispering sound was still there, always just out of reach,
like it was following me. I kept telling myself it was
just the wind, just the rain finding its way through the
broken windows, but deep down I knew it wasn't.
Then I heard it. Footsteps.
Slow, deliberate footsteps coming from somewhere behind me.
I stopped, my heart pounding in my chest.
Jerry. I called out, my voice echoing.
Brian. No answer, just those footsteps
getting closer. I turned around, my flashlight
shaking as I tried to see who or what was there, but there was no
one, just shadows stretching down the hallway.
I felt a chill run down my spine, and I took a step back.
Something was wrong, I could feel it in my bones.
I needed to find the others now. I turned and started walking
faster, my flashlight flickering again.
Come on, come on. I muttered, shaking it.
The beam steadied, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd
been holding. But then I saw it up ahead at
the end of the hallway, a figure standing perfectly still.
It was Jerry, Or at least it looked like Jerry.
He was just standing there, facing away from me, not moving.
Jerry. I called out, my voice
trembling. He didn't answer.
He didn't even turn around. I felt my stomach drop, a cold
sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.
Something was really, really wrong.
I took a step closer, and that's when I noticed it.
His clothes, they were the same as mine, exactly the same.
And his hair, his hair was the same too.
My heart was in my throat as the figure slowly started to turn
around, and I knew even before I saw its face that it wasn't
Jerry. It was me.
Its eyes were black, empty, and its mouth twisted into a grin
that made my skin crawl. Hello.
It said in my voice, but wrong, distorted, like it was coming
from a broken radio. I felt my legs start to shake
and I turned and ran. I didn't care where I was going,
I just needed to get away. The footsteps followed me,
echoing down the hallway faster and faster, and all I could
think was that I needed to find Brian.
I needed to find Jerry, and I needed to get out of this place
before it was too late. I didn't look back as I ran.
My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear anything else,
but I knew that thing was following me.
I could hear its footsteps getting faster, echoing down the
hallway. My own footsteps felt like they
were slipping, sliding on the wet floor, but I forced myself
to keep moving. I had to find Brian and Jerry.
I had to get us all out of here. I turned a corner and sprinted
down another hallway, my flashlight flickering like it
was on its last legs. Come on, come on, I muttered,
shaking it. The light steadied, but I knew
it wouldn't last much longer. My breath was coming in gasps,
and every shadow felt like it was reaching for me.
The asylum felt like it was alive, shifting around me, and I
couldn't shake the feeling that it didn't want me to leave.
I burst through a door at the end of the hallway, slamming it
shut behind me. I leaned against it, trying to
catch my breath, trying to listen for those footsteps.
Everything was quiet now, except for the sound of rain pounding
against the walls. I wanted to believe that I'd
lost it, that whatever that thing was, it wasn't following
me anymore. But deep down, I knew that
wasn't true. It was just waiting.
The room I'd run into was dark, the walls covered in peeling
paint and old, rusty hooks. It looked like some kind of
storage room, maybe for medical supplies or something.
There were shelves, but most of them were empty, and the ones
that weren't had old, dusty jars that I didn't even want to think
about. I shivered, wiping the sweat off
my forehead, and tried to figure out what to do next.
Brian, Jerry. I called out, my voice barely a
whisper. I didn't want to be loud, I
didn't want that thing to find me again, but I had to find
them. I couldn't leave without them.
My voice echoed in the empty room, but there was no answer,
Just silence. I turned back to the door,
listening. And then I heard it.
A scream. Faint, distant, but definitely
real. It was Brian, I knew it was him.
I felt a jolt of fear and adrenaline, and I yanked the
door open, running back into the hallway.
Brian. I shouted, my voice cracking.
The scream had come from somewhere upstairs.
I had to find the stairs. I had to get to him.
I stumbled through the hallways, the flashlight beam jumping
around, and finally found a staircase.
It was old, and the metal railing was rusted, but I didn't
care. I took the steps 2 at a time, my
legs burning, the air growing colder the higher I went.
I could hear Brian screaming again, louder now, like he was
in pain, and my heart felt like it was going to explode.
I yelled, my voice shaking. Hang on.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw him.
Brian was at the far end of the hallway, standing there, his
back to me. I felt a wave of relief, like
maybe everything was going to be OK after all.
Brian. I called out, running toward
him. We have to get out of here.
But he didn't move. He just stood there, staring at
the wall, like he didn't even hear me.
I slowed down, something in my gut telling me that something
was wrong. Brian, I said again, my voice
softer now. I reached out, my hand
trembling, and touched his shoulder.
He turned around and I stumbled back, gasping.
His eyes, they were empty, just black hollow pits, and his mouth
was twisted into a grin that looked all wrong.
It wasn't Brian, it couldn't be, but it looked just like him.
Join us, he said, his voice echoing in the hallway, and I
felt a chill run down my spine. I turned and ran.
I didn't know where I was going, I just knew I had to get away.
I could hear him laughing behind me, that awful, echoing laugh,
and I felt tears streaming down my face.
This wasn't real, it couldn't be real.
I ran through the halls, my legs aching, my lungs burning, and I
finally found a door that led outside.
I shoved it open, the cold air hitting me like a slap in the
face. I stumbled out into the rain,
slipping in the mud, but I didn't stop.
I couldn't. I could still hear that
laughter, faint now, coming from somewhere inside the building.
I made it to the car, my hands shaking so bad I could barely
get the keys out of my pocket. I fumble with them, dropping
them in the mud, and I let out a SOB, grabbing them and finally
getting the door open. I jumped inside, slamming the
door shut and locked it. My heart was racing, my whole
body trembling, and I turned the key, the engine sputtering
before finally roaring to life. I looked back at the asylum, my
headlights cutting through the rain, and I swear for just a
second I saw them. Brian and Jerry, standing in the
doorway, their eyes black, their faces twisted into those awful
grins. I closed my eyes, tears
streaming down my face, and slammed my foot on the gas.
I didn't stop driving until I reached a gas station miles
away. I stumbled out of the car,
barely able to stand, and the guy behind the counter gave me a
weird look as I walked in, dripping wet and shaking.
You OK, man? He asked, and I opened my mouth
to answer, but no words came out.
How could I even begin to explain what had happened?
I pulled out my phone, my hands still trembling, and called the
police. I didn't know what else to do.
I just knew that Brian and Jerry were still back there, and I
couldn't go back, not after what I'd seen.
I hung up the phone, my whole body numb, and sank down onto
the floor, my head in my hands. I didn't know if the police
would find them. I didn't know if they'd even
believe me. All I knew was that I had to get
as far away from that place as possible, because whatever was
in that asylum, it wasn't going to let them go, and I wasn't
about to let it take me too. I didn't sleep that night.
I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I
saw them, Brian and Jerry, standing there in the rain,
their faces twisted, those empty black eyes staring right through
me. I kept replaying it over and
over in my head, trying to convince myself it wasn't real.
But it felt real, too real, and I couldn't shake the feeling
that something was still watching me, even now, sitting
in that gas station parking lot. The cops showed up after a
while, their lights flashing bright and blinding in the
darkness. I stumbled over to them, trying
to explain what had happened, but the words got all jumbled
up. They're still there, I kept
saying. You have to find them.
The officer looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn't care.
I just needed them to understand.
I needed them to help. They took me back to the asylum,
and even just seeing it again made my stomach twist.
It looked even worse now, the rain coming down in sheets, the
windows like dark, empty eyes staring out at us.
I didn't want to go back inside, not ever, but I had to point out
where I'd last seen Brian and Jerry.
So I LED them up the crumbling steps through the broken door,
the flashlight beams flickering in the dark.
The place felt different now, still and silent, like it was
holding its breath. I tried to ignore the chill that
crept up my spine, tried to focus on the officers voices on
the way their boots echoed on the floor.
We searched for what felt like hours, going room to room,
hallway to hallway, but there was no sign of them.
No sign of Brian or Jerry. It was like they'd never been
there at all. Eventually, we found Jerry.
He was lying in one of the hallways, unconscious, his face
pale, his clothes soaked. He was missing a foot, just
gone, like it had never been there.
I felt my stomach turn and I had to look away, swallowing down
the fear. The officers called for an
ambulance, and they tried to ask me what had happened, but I
couldn't answer. I didn't know.
I didn't understand any of it. They never found Brian.
They searched the whole building, every room, every
hallway, but he was just gone. I tried to explain what I'd
seen, that there'd been something else, something that
looked like him, but I could tell they didn't believe me.
They kept giving me these looks, like they thought I was losing
it. And maybe I was.
Maybe this place had finally gotten to me.
Jerry was taken to the hospital, and I followed in another car,
the whole ride a blur. I kept looking out the window,
watching the trees rush by, feeling like something was going
to jump out at any moment, like those black eyes were still
watching me, waiting for me to slip up.
The rain was still coming down, tapping against the glass, and
every little sound made me jump. When we got to the hospital,
they let me see Jerry for a minute.
He was awake, his eyes wide, scared.
He didn't remember anything. Not the asylum, not the voices,
nothing. He just kept asking where Brian
was, and I didn't know how to answer him.
I could see the fear in his eyes, and I knew he could see it
in mine too. We both knew that whatever had
happened back there, it wasn't over.
Days passed, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something
was wrong. I tried to go back to my normal
life, but it was like the asylum had followed me home.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it.
The dark hallways, the peeling paint, those twisted grins.
I could still hear the laughter echoing in my head, and
sometimes, late at night, I swore I could hear footsteps in
the hallway outside my room. I started having dreams,
nightmares, really. I was back in the asylum,
running through those endless hallways, the walls closing in
on me. I could hear Brian and Jerry
calling out to me, their voices twisted, desperate, but I could
never find them. I'd turn a corner and there
they'd be, standing there with those black eyes, those awful
grins, and every time they'd say the same thing.
Join us. I don't think I'll ever forget
those words. They haunt me, even when I'm
awake. I tried to talk to Jerry about
it once, but he just shook his head, his eyes wide, terrified.
He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to think about
it. And honestly, I couldn't blame
him. It was easier to pretend it
hadn't happened, to pretend that Brian was just gone.
But I knew the truth. I knew that the Asylum had taken
him, and it wasn't going to stop there.
I can't go back to that place. I won't.
But I know there are others out there, people like us who think
it's just a game, who think it's all just stories, just legends.
And I wish I could make them understand.
I wish I could tell them what I've seen, what I've heard.
Because the asylum, it's not just a building, it's alive.
And once you step inside, it doesn't let you go.
So if you're ever out on that dirt road and you see the gates
of Forest Haven, do yourself a favor.
Turn around. Don't go in, don't listen to the
whispers, don't follow the laughter.
Because once you're inside, once they have you, you're never
getting out. Not really.
And I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even my worst enemy.
I can't remember the last time I felt this eager to get away from
everything. Work has been one big stress
ball lately and well, life itself just felt overwhelming.
I guess that's why I decided to pack up and head to the Shadow
Woods. I know the name sounds spooky,
but I wasn't really thinking about that when I planned this
trip. I just wanted some peace and
quiet. I'd been there once as a kid
with my parents and all I remembered was the cool fresh
air and how the trees seemed to go on forever.
So here I was, driving my beat up old truck down the narrow
dirt Rd. my gear rattling in the back and feeling something I
hadn't felt in a while. Hopeful I guess.
I thought maybe being out here with just the birds in the
breeze would help me feel a little less like I was
suffocating. I had no idea what was waiting
for me. It was late afternoon by the
time I found the perfect spot. There was this little clearing
by a stream surrounded by huge, twisted trees.
The branches above were so thick that only a few rays of sunlight
made it through, but it was enough.
I parked the truck and started setting up my tent, trying to
ignore that nagging feeling that the place felt different than I
remembered. More isolated, maybe, but I just
told myself that's what I wanted, right?
To be alone. I worked on my tent, humming a
little tune to keep myself company, and that's when I heard
it. A laugh.
It was soft, like it was far away, but it was definitely a
laugh. The kind of giggle you'd hear
from a little kid playing hide and seek.
I stopped what I was doing, my hand frozen on the tent pole,
and just listened. Nothing.
Just the rustling of the leaves and the distant chirp of some
bird. I shook my head, laughing at
myself. You're already hearing things,
Sarah. I muttered, trying to shake off
the weird feeling that settled in my stomach.
The sun dipped lower, and soon it was time to start a fire.
I got the flames going and sat there, staring into them,
feeling a little better. There's something about a
campfire that just makes everything feel safer, you know?
Like nothing bad can happen as long as you stay close to the
light. But even the fire couldn't quite
shake that strange feeling. Every now and then I'd glance
into the woods, thinking I saw something move.
Just shadows, I told myself. Just my imagination.
After dinner, I decided to call it a night.
I crawled into my tent and zipped it up tight, settling
into my sleeping bag. It was quiet, almost too quiet.
No crickets, no owls, just the wind in the branches.
I closed my eyes, trying to relax when I heard it again.
That laugh. Only this time it was closer.
It was like someone was standing just outside my tent, giggling.
My heart started pounding and I held my breath, listening.
The laugh faded and for a second I wondered if I was dreaming.
But then there was a rustling, a sound like something being
dragged through the leaves. Slowly, I unzipped the tent just
enough to peek out, my flashlight in my hand.
I shined, the light around the beam cutting through the
darkness. Nothing, just trees and shadows.
I let out a shaky breath and crawled out of the tent, feeling
the cold air bite at my skin. I needed to prove to myself that
it was nothing, that I was just being paranoid.
I walked around the clearing, the flashlight sweeping back and
forth, and that's when I saw it. Lying there, half buried in the
leaves, was a small, rusted bell.
It looked old, like it had been out here for years, but it was
shiny in places, like someone had been holding it recently.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hand, and a shiver ran
down my spine. Why was there a bell out here?
I tried to tell myself it was just trash, something a hiker
had dropped, but deep down I knew it felt out of place.
I tossed it aside, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling
creeping up my neck, and headed back to my tent.
It took me a long time to fall asleep after that.
Every time I closed my eyes, I could almost hear that laugh
again, echoing in the back of my mind.
When I finally drifted off, I dreamed of twisted trees and
shadows that moved when they shouldn't.
Morning came, and I woke up feeling groggy, like I hadn't
really slept at all. The fire was out, and the
clearing was filled with that kind of heavy silence that made
me feel like I was the only person left in the world.
I tried to shake it off, telling myself that today would be
better, that I'd hike, take some pictures, and everything would
feel normal again. But even as I packed my bag and
set off into the woods, I couldn't help but glance over my
shoulder, half expecting to see someone or something standing
there watching me. And I couldn't shake the feeling
that whatever it was, it was just getting started.
Morning in the woods was supposed to be peaceful, you
know, Birds chirping, the sun warming the earth, everything
waking up together. But that morning felt wrong.
I stepped out of my tent, the ground still damp with dew, and
there was this heavy silence hanging over everything, like
the forest was holding its breath, waiting for something to
happen. I tried to shake off the unease
that had settled over me, telling myself I was just tired.
I mean, I barely slept with all those weird noises last night.
Honestly, maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on
me. Still, it wasn't exactly easy to
ignore that creeping feeling, the one that told me I wasn't
alone out here. I tried to focus on something
normal. Let's explore, I said to myself,
as if saying it out loud could make it feel more real.
So I packed a small bag, grabbed my camera, and decided to head
deeper into the woods. The air was chilly, and I could
hear my footsteps crunching over the fallen leaves.
It should have been relaxing, but every few minutes I found
myself glancing over my shoulder.
No matter where I looked, the woods seemed to stretch on
forever dark and tangled. I kept trying to take deep
breaths and stay calm, but I couldn't shake the feeling that
something was out there, watching me.
After about an hour of hiking, I stumbled on to something I
wasn't expecting. Tucked between a cluster of
thick trees was an old campsite. The tents were torn and faded,
barely held together by their poles, and there were scattered
belongings all over the place, like someone had left in a
hurry. My stomach twisted as I took in
the scene. The tents looked like they had
been there for a long time, maybe even years.
But the strangest thing was that some of the stuff looked new.
There was a backpack, half zipped, with its contents
spilled out, A journal, some clothes, and a few snack
wrappers that didn't look old at all.
I bent down to pick up the journal, flipping it open, but
the pages were soaked through and the writing was mostly
smudged. Still, I could make out a few
words here and there. Night, laughing and gone.
I didn't like the sound of that. Then I saw it.
A doll lying in the dirt, partly buried under some leaves.
It was a carved wooden figure, crude and ugly, with wild hair
made of twine and a twisted smile painted on its face.
There was a note tied to its neck with a piece of string.
It read Play with me. A chill ran down my spine.
I dropped the doll like it burned me and stepped back, my
heart racing. Who would leave something like
that out here? Was this someone's idea of a
joke? If it was, it wasn't funny.
Not even a little bit. I could feel panic bubbling up,
and I had to force myself to take a few deep breaths.
I needed to stay calm. Maybe someone else had camped
here before me and just left their stuff behind.
Yeah, that had to be it. I turned and hurried back
towards my camp, my eyes scanning the forest for any sign
of movement. Every rustle of leaves made me
jump, and I couldn't shake the feeling that someone or
something was following me. When I finally made it back to
my clearing, I felt a little better, seeing my tents still
standing, my truck parked nearby.
The sun was higher now, and I tried to let its warmth chase
away the chill that had settled in my bones.
But as the day wore on, that feeling of being watched only
got worse. I tried to distract myself,
cooked some lunch, took pictures of the stream, but I kept
hearing things, branches snapping, whispers that seemed
to come from nowhere. I kept telling myself it was
just the wind, just the forest settling, but by late afternoon
I was on edge. I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I decided I needed to leave. It was stupid to stay here if I
felt like this. I started packing up my gear,
moving fast, my hands shaking. That's when I heard it again,
the laugh. It was soft, almost playful, but
it sent a shiver down my spine. I froze, listening.
The laughter was coming from the trees, closer this time.
I grabbed my flashlight, even though it wasn't dark yet, and
pointed it towards the sound. The beam cut through the
shadows, but there was nothing there.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
Who's there? I called out, trying to sound
brave, but my voice came out shaky.
No answer. Just the rustle of leaves and
that awful, echoing giggle. My heart was pounding now, and I
knew I had to get out of there. I bolted for my truck, my bag
half packed and gear scattered everywhere.
When I reached the truck, I felt a rush of relief until I
realized I didn't have my keys. They were still in the tent.
My stomach dropped and I felt a wave of panic wash over me.
I turned back to the clearing, and that's when I saw it.
There, standing at the edge of the woods, was a figure, tall
and thin, with long arms and a crooked hat.
Its face was pale, almost white, and it had no eyes, just empty
sockets that seemed to stare right at me.
The twisted smile on its face was just like the one on the
doll. I didn't think.
I just ran back into the forest, away from that thing, my feet
pounding against the ground. I didn't know where I was going,
I just knew I had to get away. The laughter followed me,
echoing through the trees, and I ran faster, branches whipping
against my face, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and then
nothing. My foot caught on a root and I
went down hard, my head slamming into something solid.
Everything went black, and the last thing I heard was that
awful, mocking laughter echoing in the darkness.
I woke up with my head pounding and a dull ache spreading across
my body. Everything was blurry at first,
just shapes and shadows moving above me.
I tried to sit up, but something tugged hard at my neck, holding
me down. Panic flared up as I blinked and
tried to focus. Where was I?
Slowly, things came into view. I was sitting on the ground, my
back pressed up against something rough.
A tree. I looked down and my heart sank.
There was a thick metal collar around my neck, chained to the
tree trunk. My wrists were tied, and my
hands felt numb from the tightness of the ropes.
The cloak I was wearing was strange, too, old, patched and
bright red, like something out of a fairy tale.
It definitely wasn't mine. I could feel my chest tightening
with fear, and I had to force myself to take a breath.
OK, Sarah, I thought, try to stay calm.
Panicking wouldn't help me. I took in my surroundings, a
strange campsite unlike anything I'd seen before.
Tents were set up haphazardly, stitched together from all sorts
of mismatched fabric. Some of them looked like they'd
been there for years, sagging and torn, while others seemed
newer, like they'd been added recently.
My eyes darted around, and I realized there were piles of
belongings scattered all over. Backpacks, shoes, even a few
stuffed animals. Things people had left behind.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the growing sense of
dread in my stomach. This wasn't just an old
campsite. It was like a graveyard of
people who had been here before me.
Then I heard it. The sound of slow, shuffling
footsteps. My heart skipped a beat, and I
strained my neck to look in the direction of the noise.
The figure was coming closer, moving between the trees, its
shadow long and twisted. When it stepped into the light,
I finally got a clear look at it, and I wished I hadn't.
It was the same creature from before, the one I'd seen on my
truck. It was tall, taller than I
remembered, with a body that looked almost human, but wrong.
Its arms were too long, and its face, its face was pale, almost
like porcelain, with empty, hollow eyes.
And that smile, that awful, twisted smile that looked like
it had been carved into its face.
The creature stopped a few feet away from me, and for a moment
we just stared at each other. I wanted to scream, to yell at
it, to leave me alone, but the words got stuck in my throat.
Instead, it just tilted its head as if it were curious, and then
it raised one of its long, Bony fingers and pointed at something
near my feet. I looked down and there it was,
the doll, the same one I'd found at the old campsite, the twisted
wooden figure with that awful smile.
There was a piece of string tied around its neck, and the words
PLAY with me were still scrawled on the tag.
The creature made a noise then, a low guttural sound that almost
sounded like a laugh. I shivered, trying to pull away,
but the chain kept me pinned to the tree.
The creature moved closer, bending down to pick up the
doll. It held it out to me, almost
like it wanted me to take it. I shook my head, my whole body
trembling. No.
I whispered, barely able to get the word out.
But the creature just kept holding the doll, its empty eyes
staring right at me, unblinking. Slowly, with shaking hands, I
took the doll. The wood was cold, and I could
feel the rough edges digging into my skin.
The creature stepped back and I thought for just a second that
it might leave me alone, but then it gestured towards the
doll again and I realized what it wanted.
I had to play the tune. My fingers were stiff and sore,
but I managed to turn the small crank on the dolls back.
The melody started, a warped, distorted version of that
familiar nursery rhyme. The sound was grating, and every
note seemed to echo through the woods, bouncing off the trees
until it felt like the whole forest was filled with that
awful, haunting music. The creature's smile widened,
and it took a few steps back, disappearing into the shadows.
The music continued, the twisted tune playing on and on until I
thought I might lose my mind. Days passed, though it was hard
to tell exactly how many. The creature never left me alone
for long. It would appear from the
shadows, watching me, always making me play that same song.
The sun would rise and I'd see it standing just beyond the edge
of the clearing, its hollow eyes fixed on me.
And at night it would come closer, its twisted grin glowing
in the moonlight. I was hungry, cold, and
terrified, but I refused to give up.
I knew I had to get out of there.
I started using the little time I had alone to work on my ropes.
I found a sharp rock hidden under the leaves and I used it
to fray the ropes, binding my wrists every chance I got.
I worked at it little by little, until I started to see the
fibres breaking. I was careful not to let the
creature see. Whenever it came close, I'd hide
the rock, forcing myself to look defeated, to pretend I had given
up. It was exhausting, and I was
terrified it would figure out what I was doing.
But I kept going. I had to.
One morning, just as the mist was starting to roll in, I felt
the last thread snap. The rope fell away, and I almost
cried with relief. I didn't have time to celebrate
though. I had to move fast.
I unhooked the collar, trying to be as quiet as possible, my
heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
I took one last look around the camp, the abandoned tents, the
doll lying in the dirt, and then I ran.
I ran as fast as I could, my feet barely touching the ground.
I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I had to get away
from that place. I had to get away from it.
When I broke free from that camp, I thought I was finally
going to be safe. I can't tell you how fast my
heart was beating as I ran, branches scratching my arms and
legs, my feet slipping on the damp forest floor.
All I could think about was getting away from that thing,
the creature with the hollow eyes and that awful carved
smile. I ran until my legs felt like
they might give out. My breaths came in ragged gasps
and my head spun, but I just kept pushing forward.
I didn't have a plan. I only knew I had to put as much
distance as possible between me and that twisted campsite.
I stumbled over roots and ducked under branches, barely thinking,
just reacting, until finally I saw something that made me stop
dead in my tracks. A light.
It was faint, just a small glow through the trees, but it was
enough. I could feel a wave of relief
crash over me, almost making my knees buckle.
A light meant people. It meant help.
I forced myself to keep moving, stumbling toward that glow like
it was the only thing keeping me alive.
When I broke through the tree line, I found myself standing at
the edge of a yard. There was a small cabin there,
its porch light flickering, and I could see someone moving
inside, a shadow passing behind the window.
I didn't even hesitate. I ran up to the door and pounded
on it, my knuckles sore from the force.
Help, please help me. I shouted, my voice cracking.
A moment later, the door opened, and an elderly man stood there,
his face lined with confusion and concern.
What on earth? He said, his voice trailing off
as he looked at me, at my torn clothes, the red cloak, the
scratches on my arms. I must have looked like a
complete mess. But he didn't ask questions.
He just pulled the door open wider and stepped aside.
Come in, come in, he said. I practically fell through the
doorway, my legs finally giving out under me.
The man helped me over to a chair and I sank into it, my
whole body shaking. Please, I whispered.
There's something out there, it's following me.
The man's eyes widened and he gave me a quick nod.
He grabbed a phone from the table and called the
authorities, his voice calm and steady, even though I could see
the worry in his eyes. I leaned back in the chair,
trying to catch my breath, my eyes darting to the windows.
I half expected to see that thing standing out there,
watching me, it's smile glowing in the darkness.
It felt like forever before the authorities showed up.
They took me to a clinic where they checked me over and asked
me questions I barely had the energy to answer.
I tried to explain about the creature, about the campsite,
but I could tell from their faces that they didn't really
believe me. They kept giving me these
sympathetic looks, like they thought I was just some lost
hiker who'd gotten too scared. Eventually they told me to rest,
and I ended up at a small mental health facility.
The doctors there were nice enough, but they didn't
understand. They kept telling me I was safe
now, that whatever I thought I saw wasn't real.
They said there was no record of a place called Shadow Woods
National Forest, that maybe I was confused, but I knew what
I'd seen. I knew it was real.
Days turned into weeks, and I tried to settle into some kind
of routine. I'd talk to my counsellor, tell
her about the dreams I kept having, the ones where I was
still chained to that tree, where the creature was standing
over me, grinning. She told me I was processing my
trauma, that it would take time for the nightmares to fade.
I nodded, trying to believe her, but deep down I knew the truth.
It wasn't over. I guess that's why I wasn't
completely surprised when the package showed up.
It was a small box, wrapped in brown paper with no return
address. The nurse brought it to me one
morning, setting it on the table in front of me with a curious
look. Looks like you got a gift.
She said with a smile. My stomach twisted as I stared
at the box. I knew even before I opened it
that something was wrong. My hands were shaking as I tore
off the paper, my heart pounding in my chest.
Inside was a small black bell, rusted and old, but
unmistakable. There was a tiny handle on the
side, and I knew if I turned it, it would play that same warped,
haunting tune. I dropped the bell, my breath
catching in my throat. The nurse looked at me, her
smile fading. Are you OK?
She asked, her voice soft, concerned.
But I couldn't answer. I couldn't even look at her.
All I could hear was that laugh echoing in my mind, that awful,
mocking giggle that seemed to follow me everywhere.
I knew without a doubt that it was still out there.
The creature had found me, and it wasn't going to let me go.
That night, as I lay in bed, I could feel the weight of the red
cloak hanging in the closet. The doctors had let me keep it,
thinking it was just a piece of clothing, but to me, it was more
than that. It was a reminder, a warning.
The nightmare wasn't over. The creature was still out
there, waiting for me, watching. And I knew deep down that sooner
or later, I'd have to face it again.