Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 4 Scary FOREST Horror Stories That Will Keep You Up at Night

Episode Date: January 1, 2025

These are 4 Scary FOREST Horror Stories That Will Keep You Up at Night. Happy New Year!! Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:21:11 Story 2 00:38:45 Story 3 00:56:37 Story 4 Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Thumbnail art: ►Just Creepy Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

Christmas Eve was supposed to be chill and peaceful. I'd planned it perfectly. Lily's family would come over. We'd sit around the fire pit, drink a few beers, and call it a night. No drama, just a quiet evening at my place. Tucked far enough from town to feel like we were on our own little island. But now, as I sit here writing this, I can't shake the feeling that my life changed forever that night. It all started normally enough. Around 7.30 p.m. I was out back clearing out the fire pit. The snow crunched under my boots as I tossed out last week's ashes and stacked fresh logs. It was cold, but the kind of cold you get used to when you live in the Midwest. Sharp but bearable. The air felt heavy, though, too still. Normally, there'd be coyotes yipping in the distance, maybe some wind stirring the trees. Tonight, nothing. Just silence. Rusty. My German Shepherd trotted along beside me, sniffing at the air like he'd caught a strange scent. I patted his head absent-mindedly.

Relax, boy, I said, though I was trying to convince myself more than him. By the time Lily's parents pulled up in their truck, I'd managed to push the weird feeling to the back of my mind. I greeted them, handed Mark a beer, and helped her mom carry some casserole dish into the house. For the next 20 minutes, I forgot about the stillness. outside. We laughed, talked about Christmas plans, and for a while, everything felt normal. At 8.30, I decided to step out and light the fire. I grabbed the lighter, and Rusty followed me to the back door, his nails clicking on the floor like he was on edge. As soon as I opened the door, he froze. His ears perked up, and his body went rigid. What's wrong, buddy? I asked, peering into the yard.

The fire pit was barely visible in the dark, just a black silhouette against the snow. Beyond that, the tree line loomed like a wall. My breath fogged in front of me as I stepped out, trying to ignore the way my chest tightened. Rusty stayed behind, growling softly. He didn't follow me, and that should have been my first sign to go back inside. I crouched by the pit, flicking the lighter and watching the flames catch. The fire hissed and popped, cast it. flicking shadows that danced on the snow. That's when I heard it. A low whistle, faint,

but unmistakable. It wasn't coming from the house or the wind. It was coming from the woods. I stood up slowly, my eyes fixed on the tree line. Probably the wind, I muttered, though even as I said it, I knew that wasn't true. The whistle came again, longer this time, and rusty barked sharply from the porch. My gut twisted. It wasn't an animal. It sounded, off, almost human, but not quite. Okay, time to go, I said, walking briskly back toward the house. Rusty bolted inside as soon as I opened the door, his tail tucked between his legs. I barely had time to lock the door before the scream ripped through the air. It was like nothing I'd ever heard, half human, half animal, and full of rage. My body locked up for a split second every nerve in me screaming to run.

Rusty went berserk, barking and growling at the back door, his teeth bared. I didn't even think. I bolted to the window and yanked the curtains aside. A figure stood at the edge of the firelight, tall and impossibly thin. Its limbs were too long, its movements jerky, like a marionette being controlled by someone who didn't know what they were doing. Its face. God, its face.

It was too pale. stretched tight over its skull, with eyes that glowed faintly yellow. It twitched, then darted toward the house. I slammed the curtains shut and yelled for Lily and Mark. Lock the doors. Now! My voice cracked with panic. Rusty barked even louder, throwing himself at the door. My heart pounded as I grabbed the rifle from the cabinet and fumbled to load it.

Lily ran into the room, her eyes wide. What's going on? Something's out there, I said, my voice barely steady. something's coming. Before I could explain, a loud thud shook the back door. Rusty growled low, his body pressed against my leg. Whatever was out there wasn't going away. It wanted in.

I don't know how long I stood there. Rifle clutched in my hands, staring at the back door. Rusty was growling so low it sounded like a vibration more than a sound. The thud stopped for a moment, and I let myself hope, just for a second, that maybe it was gone. Then it hit the door. again, hard enough to rattle the glass. James, what the hell is out there? Mark asked, his voice tight. He was standing just behind me, holding the revolver I'd handed him earlier.

I couldn't bring myself to answer. I didn't know what to say. I don't know, I finally muttered. But it's not normal. We stood there, every muscle in my body tense, waiting for the next sound. When nothing came, I slowly peeled back the curtain just enough to see how side. The fire pit was still blazing, casting long, flickering shadows against the snow. But the thing, it wasn't there anymore. It's gone, I whispered, though I didn't believe it. Creatures like that don't just leave. Mark motioned toward the door. We can't just stand here waiting for it to come back. Let's check the yard. Make sure it's really gone. I nodded, my stomach churning.

Every instinct told me to stay inside, but Mark was right. We needed to know what we were. We needed to know what we were dealing with. I slung the rifle over my shoulder and eased the door open, the cold air hitting me like a slap in the face. Rusty stayed behind, whining softly as I stepped outside. The snow crunched under our boots as we moved toward the fire pit. The flames cast just enough light to see the ground clearly, and that's when I saw the tracks. They were massive, hoof-like, but too wide and irregular to belong to any animal I knew. They circled the fire pit. They circled the fire then trailed off toward the woods. Do you see this?

I whispered. My voice barely audible. Mark nodded, his grip tightening on the revolver. We were about to head back to the house when I heard it again. That low, haunting whistle. It was closer this time, coming from the trees just beyond the firelight. I raised my rifle, my finger hovering over the trigger. Then they appeared, two of them, moving in from the tree line.

My heart nearly stopped. They were tall and gangly, their limbs too long and their movements wrong, like they didn't understand how bodies were supposed to work. Their faces were obscured by the shadows, but I could see enough to know they weren't human. One of them crouched low, its head jerking unnaturally as it let out a low growl that made my stomach turn. Mark, I started, my voice barely above a whisper. We need to—

One of them lunged. I fired instinctively, the crack of the rifle shattering the silence. The recoil hit my shoulder hard, but I didn't have time to think about it. The thing recoiled, but it didn't fall. It stumbled back, then twisted its body in a way that made my skin crawl, like it was trying to decide whether to attack again. Mark fired his revolver, and this time the creatures darted back into the woods, their movements fast and jerky like spiders scuttling away.

Back to the house, I yelled, and we didn't waste a second. We sprinted across the yard, the firelight fading behind us. My heart pounded in my ears as I fumbled with the door, slamming it shut as soon as we were inside. Lily was waiting for us, her face pale. What happened? she demanded. There's more than one, I said, my voice shaking. They're still out there. We barricaded the doors with furniture.

Every window locked and covered. Rusty barked furiously at the back door, pacing back and forth like he was ready to tear through it himself. I was about to suggest calling the sheriff when the sound. came again. Not a whistle this time, but a loud, deliberate thud against the side of the house. They weren't done with us. I checked the rifle, my hands trembling. Mark stood beside me, his revolver still in hand. If they want in, they'll have to fight for it, he muttered. The thuds grew louder coming from all sides of the house now. Windows rattled and a faint scratching sound came from the back door. Rusty growled low. His body pressed against Lily's leg as if he was trying to protect her.

And then it stopped. No thuds. No scratches. Just silence. Do you think they're gone? Lily asked. Her voice barely a whisper. I shook my head, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. No, I said. They're still out there, waiting. A face pressed against the glass of the back door. Its eyes glowed faintly yellow and its mouth stretched into an unnatural grin, revealing jagged, uneven teeth. It slammed a long, spindly hand against the glass, cracking it. Get back, I yelled, raising the rifle. And then the glass shattered.

The glass shattered before I could even pull the trigger. Shard sprayed across the floor, glittering in the dim light, and Rusty lunged forward, barking like he'd lost his mind. Lily screamed, and I shoved her and marked. back toward the living room. My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat. Stay behind me, I shouted, raising the rifle. The thing outside, the thing, was halfway through the door now, its spindly limbs folding awkwardly as it squeezed through the frame. Its skin looked wet, almost glossy, and its head cocked sharply as it fixed its glowing yellow eyes on me.

It smiled. God help me. It smiled. I didn't hesitate. I found. I find. I find. I fired point-blank, the recoil slamming into my shoulder as the shot rang out like a thunder-clap. The creature staggered, letting out a scream that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. It recoiled. Black Icor sprang across the walls, but it didn't fall. Instead, it twisted its body in a way no living thing should be able to move, its limbs snapping back into place with a sickening crack. James, run! Mark yelled, his revolver firing off in rapid succession. The creature darted back out into the,

the night, its movements as jerky and unnatural as before. But the damage was done. The back door was wide open, snow blowing in, and the house felt exposed, vulnerable. I slammed the door shut, dragging the broken remnants of the kitchen table in front of it. We can't stay here, I said panting. They'll be back. Mark nodded, reloading his revolver. Lily was clutching her mother, both of them pale and shaking. Rusty was growling low, his eyes locked, on the shattered door. What the hell are they? Lily whispered. Her voice cracked and tears streaked her face. What do they want? I don't know, I said, my voice hoarse. But I'm not waiting around to find out. We gathered what weapons we had left, a couple of shotguns, Mark's

revolver, and my Glock from the truck. The fire extinguisher caught my eye, and something clicked in my brain. The fire. The moment I'd lit it earlier, Everything had started to go wrong. And now, with the door wide open, I could see the tracks circling the pit like a predator stalking prey. They're drawn to the fire, I said, my voice low. We need to put it out. Mark frowned. And if that doesn't stop them?

Then we fight, I said. But we don't leave that fire burning. We barricaded Lily and her mom in the living room with Rusty, shoving every piece of furniture we could find against the doors. Mark and I made our way to the fire pit, stepping into the bitter cold. The snow reflected the faint moonlight, but the woods were pitch black. I could feel the weight of the darkness pressing in on me, every nerve in my body screaming that we were being watched.

Mark was the first to notice them. Over there, he whispered, pointing toward the tree line. I followed his gaze and felt my stomach drop. Three figures stood just beyond the firelight, their body. unnaturally still. One of them tilted its head, and I swear I saw its grin widen. Hurry up, Mark hissed. I grabbed the fire extinguisher, my hands trembling as I aimed it at the flames. The hiss of the extinguisher cut through the silence, and the fire sputtered and died, leaving us in near total darkness. The creatures didn't move. They just stood there,

watching. And then they screamed. It wasn't a sound I'll ever forget. get, like a mix of static, animal cries, and pure rage. The noise was so loud it felt like it was drilling into my skull. Mark fired his revolver, and I emptied my Glock into the nearest figure, but they didn't scatter like before. They came closer. Back to the house, I shouted, grabbing Mark by the arm. We ran, the snow crunching beneath our boots, the sound of the creatures crashing through the underbrush behind us. I didn't dare look back. My own. only thought was getting inside, barricading the door, and holding them off. We burst through the front door, slamming it shut and shoving a bookshelf in front of it. Rusty barked wildly,

throwing himself against the barricade like he could hold it himself. Lily was crying, her mother clutching her tightly. We put out the fire, I said, gasping for air, but it didn't stop them. Mark reloaded his revolver, his hands shaking. Then what the hell do we do now? The answer came sooner than I wanted. The thuds on the walls started again, louder this time. Windows rattled, and the roof creaked under the weight of something heavy. I gripped the rifle, sweat dripping down my face despite the cold. And then, just as suddenly as it started, the noise stopped.

The silence was deafening, oppressive. Rusty stopped barking, his ears perked as he stared at the front door. My heart pounded in the stillness, every year. second feeling like an eternity. Finally Lily spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, Do you think they're gone? Before I could answer, there was a single sharp knock at the door. The knock echoed through the house like a death knell, freezing all of us in place. Rusty started growling again, low and guttural, the hair along his back standing on end. My fingers tightened around the rifle until my knuckles ached. I didn't move, didn't breathe.

my mind racing with possibilities. Knock, knock. This time it was louder, harder, harder, like it was mocking us. My legs felt like lead, but I forced myself to step toward the door. Mark grabbed my arm, his face pale. Don't, he said through gritted teeth. You don't want to see what's out there. I have to, I whispered.

My voice was barely steady, but I had to know. Whatever was out there wasn't going to stop. I peep-hole and my blood was, ran cold. One of the creatures was standing on the porch. Its head tilted at an impossible angle. Its face was barely recognizable as human. Skin stretched thin, eyes sunken but glowing faintly yellow. Its grin was too wide, its teeth jagged and uneven. It raised one impossibly long arm and knocked again, this time dragging its claws down the door, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. I stumbled back, shaking my head.

We can't stay here, I said, my voice barely audible. We have to go. Now. What are you talking about? Lily's mom cried, clutching her daughter. Where would we go? They're everywhere. I didn't have an answer. All I knew was that staying meant dying. We'll take the truck, I said, glancing at Mark. Grab the keys. I'll cover us. Mark nodded, and for the first time I saw fear in his eyes. He handed Lily and her mom the revolver. Stay behind us. Do not stop no matter what. We moved fast, barricades scraping across the floor as we shoved furniture aside. Rusty barked wildly, pacing at the door as if he knew what was coming. I grabbed him by the collar, praying he wouldn't bolt the moment we stepped outside. I threw the door open and immediately

fired around into the air, hoping to scare them off. The creature on the porch screeched and scrambled back into the shadows. its limbs moving unnaturally fast we bolted for the truck mark and i firing at anything that moved rusty stayed close his teeth bared his body vibrating with tension the truck was only twenty feet away but it felt like a mile shadows darted between the trees and that god-forsaken whistle started up again rising in pitch until it felt like my skull was splitting get in i yelled yanking the driver's door open lily and her mom piled into the back seat rusty leaping in after them mark climbed into the passenger seat and i slammed the door shut fumbling with the keys my hands were shaking so badly it took three tries to get the engine to turn over the headlights flicked on illuminating the creatures swarming the yard there were at least five of them now their faces twisted into unnatural grins their eyes glowing like embers one of them crouched low its limbs contorting as it propelled as it propelled as it propelled as it propelled as it propelled as it, prepared to pounce. Hold on!

I shouted, slamming my foot on the gas. The tires spun on the icy driveway before catching, and the truck lurched forward. The creature leapt, slamming into the side of the truck with a sickening thud. The whole vehicle rocked, and Lily screamed. I swerved, trying to shake it off, but it clawed at the window, its face pressed against the glass. Mark leaned out the passenger window, his revolver in hand, and fired point blank. The creature let out a horrible screech and fell away, disappearing under the wheels. We barreled down the driveway, the truck fish-tailing on the icy gravel.

The woods closed in around us, the headlights barely cutting through the darkness. I could see them in the rear-view mirror, their gangly bodies moving impossibly fast, keeping pace with the truck. Faster, Mark yelled, but the road was too slick. One wrong move, and we'd end up in a ditch, or worse. As we neared the edge of the property, I saw it, the biggest of them all. It stood in the middle of the road, easily ten feet tall, its limbs stretched unnaturally long. Its face was almost human, but the mouth stretched wider than it should, the jaw unhinged like a snake's.

It raised its arms, claws glinting in the headlights. "'Brace yourselves!' I shouted, gripping the wheel. I didn't slow down. The truck hit the creature head on with a seat. sickening crunch, its body crumpling under the impact. The windshield cracked and the truck skidded, but I kept it steady, my heart hammering in my chest. When I looked back, the thing was already trying to get up, its body twisting grotesquely as it clawed at the ground. We didn't stop. We tore down the road, the creatures fading into the darkness behind us. The whistle followed us

for miles, faint but persistent, like a warning. When we finally reached the main highway, I pulled over, my hands shaking so badly I couldn't hold the wheel. Lily was sobbing in the back seat, her mom holding her tightly. Mark was silent, staring straight ahead, his face pale and drawn. We're not going back, I said, my voice trembling. Not ever. Mark nodded.

We'll sell the place. Burn it if we have to. We sat there for a long time. the engine idling, none of us ready to move. The dark woods loomed in the rearview mirror, but we didn't look back. Whatever had happened on that property, whatever those things were, we left them behind that night. At least I hope we did. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars.

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scrolling through his playlist like picking the right song was somehow more important than telling me where the hell to go. The GPS had crapped out miles back, and all I had to go on was a screenshot of a text our friend sent, which was barely legible because of her cracked screen. Just take the left after the old oak, and it's at the end of the road. You can't miss it. Spoiler alert. We could, and we did. Dude, we've passed that creepy tree like three times now, I muttered, gripping the wheel tighter.

The gnarled old oak loomed in the glow of the headlights, its twisted branches clawing at the night's sky like it wanted to grab us. Are you sure this is the right way? Matt didn't even look up, swiping to the next song. Relax, man, it's got to be around here somewhere. Besides, this is setting the vibe, right? Creepy woods, spooky neighborhood, perfect for a Halloween party. I didn't reply, too focused on navigating the pitch black road. Greenville wasn't just dark, it was suffocating. The trees crowded close on either side of the car, their shadows. swallowing the narrow road. Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of something strange, a rusted swing set half buried in weeds, a mailbox leaning at an impossible angle, and once,

a dilapidated house with no windows. I tried not to think about how long it had been since I'd seen another car. Finally, Matt perked up. There, that's got to be it. He pointed to a driveway on the right, just visible between the trees. It was long and unlit with no sense. sign of life at the end. I hesitated. Are you sure? It doesn't look like there's a party here. Matt shrugged. It's Greenville, bro. Nobody leaves their porch lights on. Let's just check it out. Worst case, we're at the wrong house. I wasn't convinced. Something about the driveway made my skin crawl, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The air felt heavy, like the woods were pressing in on us. Still, I turned in, my tires crunching on gravel as we slowly crept forward.

The house at the end of the driveway was completely dark. The curtains were drawn tight, and the porch looked like it hadn't seen a broom in years. No jack-a-lanterns, no fairy lights, no faint thump of base from the backyard, just silence. And not the peaceful kind. The kind that makes you check over your shoulder even when you know there's nothing there. This doesn't feel right, I said, my voice low. Maybe we should turn around. Matt rolled his eyes. Come on, man. We're already here. I'll just knock on the door and see if it's the right place. I don't think... What's the worst that could happen? He was already out of the car before I could stop him, his phone flashlight cutting a weak beam through the darkness. I stayed in the car,

gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles ached. My gut screamed at me to leave, but I didn't want to be that guy. the paranoid one who ruins the night because he's too chicken to check a stupid house. Still, my eyes stayed glued to the upstairs window, where I swore I saw a curtain twitch. A shadow shifted behind the glass, just for a moment. Matt, I called my voice shaking. Maybe we should... The crack of shattering glass cut me off. For a split second I thought Matt had broken something,

but then the sound of gunfire ripped through the night, and my windshield exploded in a spray of shards. Get down, Matt screamed. diving for the ground as another shot rang out, this one slamming into the hood of the car. I ducked, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. The night erupted into chaos, the echo of gunfire bouncing off the trees. And then I saw it. In the upstairs window, framed by the darkness, was the silhouette of a man. The muzzle flash lit up his face, a wild, hollow-eyed expression, twisted with fear or rage or both. He wasn't yet,

yelling, but I could see his lips moving, screaming something I couldn't hear over the gunfire. Matt scrambled back toward the car, his phone flashlight swinging wildly. Derek, go, go! But I couldn't move. I was frozen, staring at the man in the window as he raised the rifle again. With shaking hands, I threw the car into reverse. The tires spun uselessly on the gravel for half a second before catching, jerking us backward. Another shot shattered the rear window, and I ducked lower. barely able to see over the dashboard.

The car skidded wildly as I backed onto the road, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Go, go, go, Matt shouted, slamming the door shut as I straightened out and floored it. The tires squealed as we sped away, the roar of the engine drowning out the sound of my heartbeat. The woods blurred past us, the shadows dancing like they were chasing us.

Only when we were halfway down the road did I realize my hands were covered in blood. for a moment I thought it was mine. Then I glanced at Matt, slumped against the door, clutching his chest. I think I've been hit, he whispered, his voice barely audible. The woods seemed to close in tighter around us, the darkness pressing against the shattered windows. I gritted my teeth and pushed the accelerator to the floor, praying we'd make it out alive. The sound of gunfire was still ringing in my ears.

My brain couldn't process what had just happened. One second we were pulling into a driveway. The next, we were being hunted. My hands trembled on the wheel as I floored the gas pedal, the shattered windshield throwing shards of moonlight into the car like glittering knives. Every breath felt like it could be my last. Matt, I yelled, my voice cracking. Are you okay? Say something. He groaned, slumping further into his seat. My stomach dropped as I glanced at him. Blood was soaking through his shirt. dark and shiny in the faint light. His phone, still clutched in his hand, flickered weakly.

The glow from it cast shadows over his face, pale and damp with sweat. Keep driving, he weased. Just get us out of here. Another shot cracked through the night. The rear window exploded, spraying the back seat with shards of glass. I jerked the wheel instinctively, the car swerving dangerously close to a ditch. my knuckles were bone white on the wheel, the steering column shaking as I pushed the car harder than it was meant to go. Every bump in the road felt like it might tear the wheels out from under us.

In the rearview mirror, the house disappeared into the shadows, but I had a feeling that the shooter wasn't done. The road was so narrow, so dark, and I kept expecting headlights to appear behind us, or worse, the glint of that rifle barrel again. My mind raced. with possibilities. Was he chasing us? Was he reloading? Hang on, man, I muttered mostly to myself. We're going to make it. Matt coughed, and I heard the wet rattling sound that came with it. My stomach twisted. I stole another glance at him. His eyes were barely open, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven gasps. Stay with me, Matt, I said, panic creeping into my voice. Just hang in there, okay?

We're not far. He didn't answer. His phone slipped from his hand, landing on the floor with a dull thud. I couldn't look down, couldn't reach for it. My entire focus was on the road ahead. The trees were blurs of black on either side of us, closing in like walls. The beams of my headlights barely cut through the thick darkness. Every shadow looked like it could hide something, some one.

And then it happened. A figure darted into the road ahead of us, just a flash, something humanoid, dark, and quick. My instincts screamed and I yanked the wheel to the side. The tires skidded, the car lurching violently. For a second I thought we were going to flip, but the tires caught the edge of the pavement, jerking us back onto the road. What the hell was that? I whispered, but Matt didn't answer. I glanced at him again, and my chest tightened. His head had lulled to the side and his breathing was weaker than before. No, no, no, I muttered. Not now. Don't you quit on me, man. I could see a faint glow up ahead,

the first sign of civilization in what felt like forever. Streetlights. We were close. I pressed the gas pedal harder, ignoring the rattling protest of the engine. The wind whipped through the shattered windows, cold and biting. My shoulder throbbed where the glass had sliced it, but I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop. As we hit the main road, the glow of the hospital sign came into view. The sight of it was almost enough to make me cry. I sped into the parking lot, the tires screeching as I slammed on the brakes in front of the emergency entrance. I jumped out of the car, the cold night air hitting me like a slap. Help! I screamed, running to Matt's side. Somebody help us. The ER doors slid open, and a group of nurses and paramedics rushed.

toward us. Their faces were blurred in my vision, my head swimming with adrenaline and exhaustion. Hands pulled me back as they opened Matt's door, carefully pulling him from the car and placing him on a gurney. Blood dripped onto the asphalt as they wheeled him inside. I stood there, frozen, as the doors slid shut behind them. The parking lot was silent now, except for the distant hum of cars on the highway. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. My legs felt like they might give out, and for a second I thought I was going to collapse right there, but I forced myself to move, stumbling toward the ER doors. Inside, the fluorescent lights were harsh, blinding after the darkness of the night. A nurse tried to talk to me, but her voice was drowned out by the pounding

in my ears. All I could do was mutter, is he going to be okay? We'll do everything we can, she said, guiding me toward a chair. I sank into it, my head in my hands, as the event. As the event of the night replayed over and over in my mind. The shooter's face, the sound of the gunfire, the way Matt had looked when I realized he'd been hit. It all played in a loop, each detail more vivid than the last. I didn't notice the blood still dripping from my shoulder or the way my clothes were sticking to me, soaked with a mix of sweat and glass dust. All I could do was sit there, staring at the door Matt had disappeared through, waiting for news. Time had lost all meaning.

The waiting room was a fluorescent purgatory, the hum of machinery and muffled voices filling the void where my thoughts should have been. I couldn't sit still. Every few minutes I got up and paced the linoleum floor, my shoes leaving faint red smears with every step. My shoulder throbbed from the gash I hadn't had time to think about. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Matt.

I kept replaying it in my head. The gunfire, the shattering glass, the shadow in the upstairs window. Each time the details got sharper. I could see the man's face now, wild-eyed and gaunt, the rifle steady in his hands. What had he been shouting? I strained to remember,

but all I could hear was the deafening crack of the shots, and Matt's labored breathing as we raced away. The doors to the ER opened and my head snapped up. A nurse walked out, clipboard in hand, but she didn't look at me. She called another name, ushering a family twice. the back. My heart sank again. How long had it been? An hour, two? It felt like days. Finally, a doctor stepped into the room, his face calm but unreadable. My chest tightened as he called my name. I shot up from the chair, nearly tripping over my own feet as I followed him

into a quiet corner. He spoke slowly, his words deliberate, but my brain felt like it was wading through molasses. Matt is stable, he said, and the weight in my chest eaves. just a little. The bullet collapsed his left lung, but we've re-inflated it. It missed his heart and major arteries, which is the good news. He's in the ICU now. We're monitoring him closely, but his prognosis is good. I nodded, my head bobbing like it was on strings. Can I see him? Not yet, the doctor said. He needs rest, but I promise, we'll let you know as soon as he's ready for visitors. The relief was overwhelmed. and I had to put my head in my hands to keep from falling apart right there.

Matt was alive. He was going to make it. But the doctor kept talking, his voice growing heavier. The police are here, he said. They'd like to speak with you about what happened tonight. I nodded again. My movement's stiff. Of course they were here. How could they not be? The car was probably still sitting outside, riddled with bullet holes and coated in red. I forced myself to stand a little straighter as the doctor guided me toward a pair of officers waiting near the entrance. Their questions came hard and fast, their faces unreadable as they scribbled notes into their pads. I told them everything. The party. The wrong address. The house at the end of the driveway. The shots. The face in the window. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, but I kept going,

spilling every detail I could remember. When I finished, one of the officers' extremely. changed a look with his partner. That address you described, he said. It belongs to a man named Edward Marks. He's had issues. Issues? I repeated. The word catching in my throat.

What kind of issues? Break-ins, the officer said. Two in the last year. One of the burglars told Marx that his friends would be back for revenge. He's been paranoid ever since. Fortified the house, bought that rifle legally, and basically turned the place in the case. into a fortress. He's convinced someone's coming for him. The pieces clicked together in my head,

a horrible puzzle falling into place. He thought we were there to rob him. The officer nodded. That's his claim. He fired because he thought you were intruders, said he saw movement outside and didn't want to take any chances. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. We didn't even get out of the car before he started shooting. We know, the officer. said. That's why he's being charged with attempted murder. This wasn't self-defense. It was reckless. He's lucky neither of you were killed. Lucky. The word felt like a slap in the face. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how close we'd come to dying because some paranoid lunatic couldn't take a second to think. But the rage was swallowed by exhaustion. I was too drained to fight,

too wrung out to do anything but nod and let the officers leave. Hours later, I finally got to see Matt. Walking down the ICU corridor felt like trudging through quicksand, every step heavier than the last. When I reached his room, I stopped in the doorway, bracing myself for what I might see. He looked fragile lying there in the hospital bed, tubes snaking out of his chest and monitors beeping softly beside him. But when his eyes fluttered open and he saw me, a weak smile spread across his face. You made it, he croaked, his voice barely audible. Damn right I made it, I said. Forcing a grin as I stepped closer.

You scared the hell out of me, man. He chuckled, then winced, his hand moving to his chest. Don't make me laugh. It hurts. I wanted to tell him everything. The shooter, the police, the hospital staff calling him a miracle. But the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I sat beside him, silent, until he spoke again. You saved my life, he said.

said, his voice softer this time. No, I replied, shaking my head. You saved mine. Matt didn't argue. He didn't have to. We both knew the truth. If he hadn't been holding his phone, if the light from it hadn't drawn the shooter's aim,

it would have been me who took that shot, and I wouldn't have made it. Matt recovered, but the scars of that night never left me. The sound of gunfire haunted my dreams, and every time I passed a darkened window, I felt a chill crawl up my spine. I learned later that Edward Marks had pleaded no contest and been sentenced to five years in prison,

five years for nearly killing us. It didn't feel like enough, but at least it was something. Fear makes people do crazy things, Matt said. Maybe he was right, but fear wasn't an excuse, and I knew I'd never step foot in Greenville again. Some nightmares are better left behind. Be careful out there. The road out of town seemed narrower,

than I remembered. Jason's truck jostled over the uneven gravel, dust kicking up behind us like a cloud trying to catch our tailgate. He was in the driver's seat, one hand loosely gripping the wheel, the other tapping to the beat of some old country song crackling through the ancient speakers. I wasn't paying attention to the music. My eyes were fixed on the dense wall of pine trees crowding the road on either side, their trunks standing tall. Relax, Jason said, catching my gaze. You look like you're expecting Bigfoot to jump out or something. I snorted, but my grip on the edge of my seat didn't loosen. It's not Bigfoot I'm worried about.

This place looks off, like the kind of spot people go to disappear. Jason laughed. The sound sharp in the tight cab of the truck. That's the point, Caleb. No cell service, no crowds. Just us and nature. You'll love it. I didn't answer.

Instead, I squinted at the hand-drawn map sitting on my lap. Jason's co-worker had scribbled it on the back of a diner napkin, complete with misspelled landmarks and vague instructions like, turn at the big rock, and head past the old fence line. It was the kind of map you'd see in a bad horror movie, the one the protagonist finds clutched in a skeleton's hand. Jason veered the truck off the main road, pulling into what I guessed was the parking lot. It was nothing more than a patch of dirt surrounded by brush, the trees leaning in so close it felt like they were eavesdropping. This is it? I asked, scanning the area. No sign? No trailhead? Jason grinned, hopping out of the truck. That's how you know it's a hidden gem. Come on,

grab your pack. I followed him reluctantly, slinging my gear over one shoulder. The trail, or what I assumed was the trail, was barely visible. It cut through the underbrush like a fading memory, overgrown and forgotten. Each step we took felt like we were trespassing, the forest whispering its disapproval with the rustle of leaves. We walked in silence for a while, the air thick with the smell of pine and damp earth. The only sounds were the crunch of our boots and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. It should have been peaceful, but my nerves were on edge. Something about the quiet didn't sit right. It wasn't just quiet. It was still. No birdsong, no insects, just nothing.

You feel that? I asked, breaking the silence. Jason glanced over his shoulder. Feel what? I hesitated. I don't know. Like we're not supposed to be here. Jason rolled his eyes. You've been watching too many movies. It's just a trail, man. Lighten up. But I couldn't.

My eyes kept darting to the shadows between the trees, half expecting to see movement. I told myself it was just my imagination, but my gut was telling a different story. After an hour of hiking, the forest opened up into a clearing, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Jason's so-called mountain meadow was a swamp. The water was stagnant and murky, choked with algae and surrounded by a ring of decaying trees. The air reeked of rot, and a low buzzing of flies added to the oppressive atmosphere. Hidden gem, huh? I said, trying to. keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Jason scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

Okay, maybe it's not what I expected, but hey, it's quiet. Too quiet, I muttered. That's when I saw it. Across the swamp, partially obscured by the trees, was a tent. It was old and sagging, the fabric stained with streaks of green and brown. But it wasn't the tent that caught my attention. It was the figure standing near it. Jason, I said, my voice barely above a whisper. What? I pointed. He followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? The figure was motionless, standing just at the edge of the water. They were too far away to make out any details. But something about their posture didn't sit right. It wasn't natural. It was stiff.

Like they were frozen in place. Watching us. I raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, unsure of what else to do. The figure didn't move, didn't wave back. They just stood there. Jason let out a nervous laugh, probably some camper, or a hunter. Then where's their gear, their fire, and why are they just staring? He shrugged, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. Who knows? Maybe they're shy. Let's set up camp. We climbed a small hill overlooking the swamp, and pitched our tents in the flattest spot we could find. Jason tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes as we unpacked, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. Every time I glanced back at the swamp, the figure was still there, unmoving.

By the time the sun dipped below the tree line, the figure had vanished. Jason claimed not to notice when it happened, but I did. One moment they were there, and the next, the swamp was empty. I told myself it didn't matter, that it was just some loner minding their own business. But as the shadows lengthened and the air grew colder, I couldn't help but feel like we weren't alone. Something about this place wasn't right, and I had a sinking feeling we were about to find out why. The fire crackled softly, its light flickering off the surrounding trees like the forest itself was alive and breathing. Jason sat across from me, his face glowing orange in the firelight, laughing at one of his own jokes.

I tried to laugh with him, but my eyes kept drifting past his. shoulder, scanning the dark woods beyond our camp. Still thinking about that guy by the swamp? Jason asked, his voice teasing but low enough to match the quiet around us. Can you blame me? I said. Who just stands there like that? No gear, no fire, nothing.

Jason shrugged, poking the fire with a stick. Sparks floated into the air like tiny fireflies. Probably just a weirdo. You know how these backwoods types are. They like their privacy. That's not privacy, I said, glancing toward the swamp's direction. That's something else. Jason didn't respond.

He just tossed the stick into the fire, leaned back in his camp chair, and closed his eyes like he was settling in for a nap. I envied how easily he brushed things off. For him, a lone figure standing in the woods was an oddity to laugh about. For me, it was a reason to keep one hand near my knife. The woods around us were impossibly dark. The fire was the only source of light, and beyond its reach was a wall of blackness that seemed to press in closer with every passing minute. The forest was quiet again, too quiet.

No wind, no crickets, no distant howls. Just silence, thick and heavy. I shifted in my seat trying to relax, but my mind kept replaying the moment at the swamp. The figure standing there, unmoving. The way they vanished without a sound, it was wrong. everything about this place felt wrong. Jason's eyes snapped open, and for a second, I thought he'd finally felt it too,

that creeping unease that had been clawing at me since we arrived. But his eyes weren't on me. They were locked on something behind me. I turned slowly, my stomach tightening like a coiled spring. There, just beyond the firelight, was a figure, the same one from the swamp. They were closer now, no more than 20 feet away. standing just at the edge of the light.

Their silhouette was sharper this time, long, matted hair that hung over their face, clothes that looked tattered and dark. They weren't watching Jason. They were watching me. My voice caught in my throat. Hello? Jason stood up slowly.

His hands half raised like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. Hey man, you okay? You lost or something? The figure didn't move, didn't speak. They just stood there, swaying slightly, like the wind was pushing them. Except there was no wind. My heart hammered in my chest as Jason took a step forward.

Look, if you need help. Before he could finish, the figure turned and bolted into the woods. The movement was sudden, almost unnatural. They didn't stumble or hesitate, just melted into the trees with a speed that made my skin crawl. Jason lowered his hands exhaling loudly. Well, that was weird. Weird, I snapped, standing up.

up so fast my chair tipped over. That's all you've got? Weird? Jason looked at me like I was overreacting. What do you want me to say? The guy's probably just some crackhead or a squatter who didn't want us calling the cops. Does that seem normal to you? I gestured toward the spot where the figure had stood, standing there watching us, not saying a word, then running like that? Jason didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked to the edge of the firelight, squinting into the trees as if he could spot the figure lurking in the shadows. I'll admit, it's creepy, but I'm not about to pack up and hike out in the dark because of some weirdo. I wanted to argue, but he wasn't wrong. The thought of walking back along that overgrown trail and pitch-black darkness made my skin crawl.

Still, the idea of staying here, knowing that someone, or something, was out there watching us, wasn't much better. We keep the fire going, Jason's said firmly, as if he'd made the decision for both of us. If they come back, we'll see them. And if they don't come back, I asked, lowering my voice. What then? Jason gave me a shrug. Then we get some sleep and leave first thing in the morning.

Either way, we'll deal with it. His confidence didn't calm me, but it gave me a plan, and that was better than nothing. I stoked the fire until it was roaring, then sat with my back to the tents, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. Jason tried to keep the mood light, cracking jokes and telling stories, but even he was quieter than usual. Neither of us was laughing much. At some point I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Jason was shaking me awake. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. Caleb, he whispered, his voice shaking. They're back. I bolted upright, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Jason pointed toward my tent, and I followed his finger. There, crouched low to the ground, was the figure. They were close enough that I could hear their breathing, shallow, raspy, and uneven. Their head was tilted slightly like they were studying us. When they realized I was awake, they bolted again, disappearing into the woods without a sound. My knife was in my hand before I even realized I'd grabbed it. We're not sleeping. Jason said firmly, his voice steadier than I expected. We keep the fire going until sunrise,

and we leave the second there's enough light to see. I nodded, unable to speak. My hands were shaking, but I tightened my grip on the knife and forced myself to stay alert. The woods around us were alive with shadows, and every crack of a branch made me flinch. For the rest of the night we sat in silence, the fire blazing between us like the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. I couldn't shake the feeling that the figure wasn't gone. They were still out there, watching, waiting, and I was certain that if Jason hadn't woken me up, I wouldn't have been alive to see the sunrise. By the time the first gray light of dawn began filtering through the trees, I felt like I'd aged a decade. My hands were cramped from gripping my knife all night, and my eyes burned from

staring into the dark, trying to spot any hint of movement. Jason sat across from me, pale and silent, clutching a long branch he'd sharpened into a makeshift spear. We hadn't said much since the figure disappeared hours ago, and the silence between us felt as heavy as the night. "'Let's go,' Jason said finally, his voice hoarse. "'We've got enough light now.' I nodded, my body stiff as I stood. We packed in near silence, rushing to stuff gear into our bags with jittery hand.

Every snap of a twig made me flinch, my head whipping toward the sound. The fire had burned low, just embers now, but we didn't bother stoking it. The thought of staying here one more second was unbearable. As we hoisted our packs, Jason gestured toward the trail. Stay close. Don't stop for anything. We descended the hill, the swamp coming into view. In the daylight, it looked even worse than before, like a place that had been forgotten by nature itself. The tent was still there, slumped and decaying, but there was no sign of the figure. Still,

I felt their presence, like they were just out of sight, lurking in the shadows of the trees. The trail was narrow and overgrown, the underbrush clawing at my legs as we moved quickly through it. I kept my eyes forward, but my ears were tuned to every sound behind us. The stillness that had unnerved me the day before was gone, replaced by the occasional snap of the moment. a branch or rustle of leaves that seemed just a little too close. After about 20 minutes, Jason stopped abruptly, holding up a hand, wait. What? I whispered, my voice barely audible. He pointed to the ground. There in the soft dirt of the trail were footprints, fresh ones. They were larger than mine, uneven, like whoever made them had been dragging one foot. They led in the same

direction we were heading, toward the truck. They were ahead of us, Jason said, his voice tight. at some point during the night. My stomach dropped. I wanted to turn around, run back the way we came, but I knew that wasn't an option. We had to keep going. Jason started walking again. His movement's slower now, his head constantly swiveling to scan the trees. We reached the truck faster than I expected, but the sight of it didn't bring the relief I thought it would.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw the muddy handprints smeared across the windows. They weren't random. They were deliberate, placed in the middle of each window like someone had pressed their hands flat against the glass to peer inside. Jason cursed under his breath and reached for the driver's side door. Let's just get out of here. Wait, I said, grabbing his arm. What if they're still here? What if? He yanked the door open, cutting me off. The inside of the truck was empty, but the smell of damp earth wafted out, faint but unmistakable. Someone, someone, had been here. We threw our packs in the back and climbed in. Jason turned the key and the engine sputtered to life. He backed out of the clearing so fast the tires kicked up a spray of dirt and leaves.

I kept my eyes on the woods, half expecting to see the figure standing at the edge of the trees, watching us leave. But there was nothing, just the endless stretch of trees and darkness. The drive back was silent. Jason kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I didn't even look at the passenger side window. I didn't want to see if something or someone was pacing us through the trees. When we finally reached the main road, the tension in the cab broke like a dam. Jason exhaled shakily, his hands loosening on the wheel. Sheriff's office? he asked, glancing at me.

I nodded. Yeah. The deputy didn't laugh at our story like I thought he might. Instead, he listened carefully, his expression growing darker as we describe the figure, the tent, and the handprints on the truck. When we mentioned the footprints, he leaned forward, his jaw tightening. You said this was near the old Green Creek Trail, he asked. Jason nodded. Yeah, why?

The deputy sighed and leaned back in his chair. We had a missing hiker reported in that area a couple of months ago. Young guy, mid-20s. We found his tent near the swamp, but no sign of him, figured he'd wandered off and got lost in the woods. But now, he shook his head. You boys are lucky you got out of there. Lucky, Jason scoffed.

We were one wrong move away from. He stopped, his jaw clenching. The deputy stood and grabbed his hat. I'll send a team out to check the area again. But my advice, stay out of those woods. We didn't need to be told twice. back in the truck Jason broke the silence first. I don't care what anyone says.

I'm never setting foot in those woods again. I nodded, gripping the door handle like it might fly open if I didn't. Same here. We drove the rest of the way in silence, leaving the forest and whatever was in it behind us. But even now, I can't stop thinking about it, about the figure watching us, about the footprints on the trail and the handprints on the truck. about how close we came to being another unsolved mystery and about how no matter how much time passes i'll never go back to those woods not for anything the dirt road stretched out ahead of me nothing but darkness and endless montana trees on either side my truck's headlights carved weak tunnels through the thick shadows but even then i could barely see ten feet in front of me it had been over a year since i'd been to the cabin and i was kicking myself for not coming back sooner to close to close to close to close to the cabin and i was kicking myself for not coming back sooner to

clear the trail. Overgrowth scraped against the truck like claws dragging down the sides, the crunch of branches beneath my tires breaking the otherwise suffocating silence. I finally got a glimpse, the faint outline of the cabin emerging from the trees like a ghost. Relief washed over me. I threw the truck into park and killed the engine. For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the cabin under the pale glow of the moon. It looked smaller than I remembered. almost hunched under the weight of the mountain behind it. I stepped out, pulling my jacket tight against the chill. The air up here had a way of biting right through you,

the kind of cold that didn't care how many layers you had on. The smell of forest and rain was sharp, almost too sharp, like something had been recently disturbed. I ignored the weird feeling creeping up my neck and grabbed my duffel bag from the back seat. The porch creaked under my boots as I climbed the steps. It always creaked. but tonight it was different.

Hollow. As I fumbled for the keys, I caught myself glancing over my shoulder. There was nothing but trees and darkness, but I still couldn't get rid of the feeling that something, or someone, was staring at me. When I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the cold hit me like a slap.

It wasn't the usual kind of cold, the kind you expect from a place that's been empty for months. This was different, sharp, almost unnatural. I flicked on the light. The back window was shattered. Glass was everywhere, glinting like jagged stars across the floor. My first thought was an animal, a bear maybe, or a coyote. But as I walked closer, the broken edges of the glass caught my eye. It looked like something had broken in, not out. I did a quick sweep of the cabin, my heart pounding harder with each step. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. It was all exactly.

as I'd left it. No overturned furniture, no signs of anyone rifling through my stuff. Nothing missing, at least not that I could tell. Just that broken window, cold air creeping in like an unwelcome guest. I tried to calm myself down. Bears didn't think twice about smashing a window if they smelled food. Hell, I'd heard of them tearing through car doors for a pack of gum. Still, I couldn't lose the tension coiling in my chest. Something about the scene felt odd. I found an old tarp in the shed and nailed it over the window, muttering to myself about the hassle of fixing it. By the time I was done, the moon had risen higher, casting long shadows through the cabin. The firewood was stacked where I'd left it on the porch, so I hauled some inside and

got a fire going. The crackle and warmth helped a little. Sitting in the armchair with a drink in hand, I tried to relax, but every sound outside made my ears perk up. The wind moaned. through the trees like it was alive, carrying faint rustles that I told myself were just leaves. The light from the fire danced across the walls, but the tarp over the window flapped faintly, just enough to set my teeth on edge. I checked the time. Just after 11 p.m. I added another log to the fire, letting the heat build. Then I shut off the lights, locked the doors, and crawled into bed, setting my alarm for dawn. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but replay the image of the shattered window in my mind.

If it wasn't a bear, what was it? The cabin was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat. The fire in the next room popped occasionally, but that only made the silence between the noises feel heavier. Just as I was finally starting to drift off, the wind outside picked up again, rattling the tarp against the cabin. For a second, I thought I heard something else beneath it,

like footsteps crunching through the leaves. But that was impossible, right? I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to sleep, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that I wasn't as alone out here as I'd hoped. I woke up gasping, like I'd just surfaced from a deep, dark lake. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through my ribs. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, and the glow from the screen told me it was 2.17 a.m.

I didn't know why I was awake. no nightmare, no sound that I could remember, just this awful heavy feeling pressing down on my chest, like something was wrong. The cabin was silent, too silent. The fire in the next room had burned down to embers, and the only noise was the faint whistle of the wind outside. For a minute I sat there, trying to convince myself that it was just a bad dream. But something felt off. The air in the room was colder than before, sharp enough to raise goosebumps on my arms. I slid out of bed, moving slowly, so the creak of the old floorboards wouldn't echo too loudly. My flashlight sat on the dresser, and I grabbed it, gripping it tightly like a weapon.

I told myself I was being ridiculous. This was my cabin, my space. There was no one here but me, but that thought didn't stop the hairs on the back of my neck from standing on end. When I cracked open the bedroom door, the cold hit me immediately, an icy wave that sent a chill down my torso. I stepped into the hallway, aiming the flashlight toward the living room. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing the usual, the couch, the fireplace, the chair where I'd been sitting hours earlier. The tarp over the broken window was loose, flapping gently in the breeze, and on the floor, glistening faintly in the light were muddy footprints. My breath caught in my throat as I took a step closer. The prints were big,

clearly a man's boots, and the mud looked fresh, still wet and dark. The trail started at the broken window. My flashlight followed the footprints as they wound across the living room floor, leading straight toward the hallway. Toward me. I froze, my pulse hammering in my ears. The prince continued down the hallway, stopping just outside my bedroom door. The door I'd just come through. I turned and looked behind me, the flashlight shaking slightly in my hand. My stomach dropped when I saw the rest of the trail. The Prince didn't stop at the door. They continued into my bedroom, up to my bed.

The blood drained from my face as my mind raced to piece together what that meant. Someone had been in my room. Someone had been standing right next to me while I was sleeping. My flashlight beam flicked to the floor again, desperately searching for another trail, Prince leading away from the bed, back to the window, or even the front door. There was nothing, no exit trail. Whoever it was, they hadn't left. I wanted to run. My body screamed at me to turn around and bolt for the door, but I couldn't move. I felt trapped, like if I made a sound, whatever, or whoever was still here would hear me. I swallowed hard and forced myself to step

back toward the bedroom. My hands were clammy as I gripped the flashlight, angling it toward the floor beneath the bed. I leaned down slowly, every nerve in my body on fire. The beam of light swept across the floor, catching shadows, dust, and a hand. Pale, still, and unmistakably human. I shot upright, the blood roaring in my ears. My chest felt tight, my breaths shallow and quick. Without thinking, I spun and bolted down the hall. The flashlight smacked against the wall as I sprinted for the front door,

my hands fumbling for the lock. Behind me, I swore I heard movement, something scraping against the floor, slow and deliberate. I didn't look back. I couldn't. My fingers finally found the lock and I yanked the door open, the icy night air slamming into me. I sprinted to the truck, my feet slipping on the gravel as I struggled to pull the keys from my pocket. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped them twice before finally getting the door unlocked. I threw myself inside, locked the doors, and started the engine. As the truck roared to life, I glanced up at the cabin.

My headlights washed over the front window, the tarp flapping in the wind. For a split second, I thought I saw a shadow move inside, just beyond the firelight. I slammed the truck into reverse and tore down the dirt trail, branches whipping against the sides as I drove faster than I ever had before. I didn't stop until I reached the main road, miles away. My mind was racing, replaying every terrifying detail. The prints, the hand, the noise behind me, I couldn't make sense of any. of it. I don't know who or what was in that cabin with me. But I do know one thing. I'll never set foot

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