Chapter One – The Late-Night Hiker
The woods at night always had a voice. A low hum of insects, the rustle of branches in the wind, the occasional cry of an owl drifting above the treeline. For Ethan Price, twenty-two, those sounds were a lullaby. He told his friends he just needed some air, that the tent felt too stuffy. With a flashlight in one hand and his phone in the other, he set off down the narrow trail behind the campground.
“Don’t go far, man,” his buddy called after him.
Ethan had just laughed. “It’s a trail, not a maze. I’ll be back in ten.”
The beam of his flashlight cut through the dark like a sword. The dirt was damp under his boots. For a while, it was peaceful. His music played faintly from the phone in his pocket, almost drowned out by the steady pulse of crickets.
Then came a sound that didn’t belong. A crack. A branch snapping, heavy. He turned, shining the light into the trees. Nothing. Just the hush of leaves swaying.
“Hello?” Ethan called out, his voice small against the forest.
The woods answered back — but not with silence.
A sharp, high-pitched laugh echoed from deeper in the trees. It wasn’t quite human, wasn’t quite animal. It sounded like both. Ethan froze, every nerve in his body tightening.
The laugh came again, closer this time. His flashlight shook as he swept it across the trunks. And then, for a split second, two pale shapes flickered between the trees — gone before he could focus.
“Not funny, guys,” he muttered, louder now, trying to convince himself it was a prank.
But the forest roared with sudden noise — leaves thrashing, branches snapping, footsteps rushing at him from all sides. Ethan bolted, flashlight beam bouncing wildly as he sprinted down the trail. His scream split the night, shrill and desperate, and then—
Silence.
Only the flashlight remained, lying in the dirt, its beam pointing into nothing.
The Next Morning
The campground was buzzing with whispers. Ethan’s tent was empty, his sleeping bag untouched. By sunrise, his friends had gone to the rangers’ station.
Inside, Ranger Carl leaned back in his chair, pen tapping against his clipboard. His partner, Denise, stood at his side, brows knitted.
Friend #1 (nervous): “He went out around midnight. Just a quick walk, he said… flashlight in hand, clear as day. He didn’t come back.”
Friend #2 (wringing hands): “We thought we heard him yell, but… it didn’t sound right. Like it was coming from everywhere at once. I swear it wasn’t normal.”
Ranger Carl (shrugging): “Look, kids wander off all the time. He probably had a few drinks, lost his footing. These woods go on for miles. Happens more than you think.”
Friend #1 (shaking head): “His shoes are still out there. Who goes hiking barefoot? That doesn’t make sense.”
Ranger Denise (checking her notes, quiet but firm): “The dogs tracked his scent half a mile. Then nothing. Scent cut clean. That doesn’t happen unless—”
Ranger Carl (interrupting, tone sharp): “Unless he left the trail. It happens. Look, we’ll put out a missing person alert, get volunteers. Don’t go scaring people with wild stories.”
The two friends exchanged looks — tired, pale, and terrified.
Friend #2 (muttering): “You didn’t hear what we heard.”
Carl ignored it, already writing his report. Denise glanced at them, though, her lips pressed tight like she wasn’t so sure.
When the friends left, the station door creaked shut behind them. The woods outside seemed still, almost watchful.
And deep in the treeline, where the flashlight still lay in the dirt, the batteries finally flickered out.
Chapter Two – The Vanished Couple
The lake looked like black glass at dusk. The sun had dipped below the trees, leaving only a smear of purple and orange across the horizon. Mark and Danielle Walker, both in their mid-thirties, had decided it was the perfect night for stargazing.
Danielle dipped her oar lazily, breaking the still water as the rowboat drifted further from shore.
“See?” Mark said, grinning as he leaned back. “Peaceful. No city noise. Just us and the stars.”
“Romantic,” Danielle teased, but her smile was genuine. She pulled her jacket tighter. “Still feels eerie though. It’s too quiet out here.”
The boat rocked gently as they laughed. Mark pointed upward, naming constellations with more confidence than accuracy. Danielle playfully corrected him, shaking her head.
Then the laughter faded.
A sound rippled across the water. Not the lap of waves. Not the croak of frogs. A laugh. High, lilting, strange. It echoed from one end of the lake to the other.
Danielle’s hand froze on the oar. “Mark… did you hear that?”
He straightened, scanning the dark tree line. “Probably kids on the shore. Sound carries over water.”
But there were no lights, no campers. Just endless woods, looming black against the horizon.
The laugh came again — closer this time. Then another joined it, weaving in like a harmony. Laughter without joy, sharp and cold.
Danielle’s eyes widened. “That’s not kids.”
The water around the boat rippled, though no wind stirred the surface. Mark grabbed the oars, rowing fast, hard. The boat lurched, cutting through the lake. Danielle clutched the edge, knuckles white.
A sudden splash behind them — then another. Something hit the underside of the boat with a heavy thud. The wood groaned.
“Row!” Danielle screamed.
“I am!” Mark’s muscles strained, breath ragged.
The laughter surrounded them now, circling, closing in. Mark’s face was pale, sweat gleaming under the starlight. Danielle’s scream echoed into the night—
And then silence.
When the boat drifted back to shore an hour later, it was empty. The oars were gone.
The Next Day
Deputy Richards stood on the lakeshore, clipboard in hand, as locals crowded around.
Deputy Richards (tired, jotting notes): “So… the couple went out after dark. Boat came back empty. No one actually saw them fall in, correct?”
Old Camper (snapping): “I told you! Heard splashin’ out there, then laughin’. Not their laughin’. It was high, twisted… like somethin’ was mocking them.”
Deputy Richards (sighing): “Sound carries on the water. Could’ve been other campers.”
Old Camper (glaring): “Don’t you patronize me, boy. I know what I heard. That wasn’t no kids foolin’ around.”
Teen Girl (softly, to her friend): “How do two people drown without a sound? You’d hear them screaming.”
Friend (whispering back): “Maybe they didn’t drown.”
The deputy overheard, shooting them a sharp look, but didn’t answer.
He scribbled “probable drowning” on his report, ignoring the unease prickling the back of his neck.
Behind him, the empty rowboat knocked gently against the dock, as if trying to remind everyone that two people had vanished without a trace.
Chapter Three – The Gas Station Clerk
The night was quiet on Route 17, the two-lane stretch of cracked asphalt that skirted the edge of the campground. Tammy O’Connor had driven that road a thousand times after her midnight shift at the gas station. Tonight, the radio hummed low as she tapped the steering wheel, headlights carving through the fog rolling off the trees.
She yawned, fighting the drag of exhaustion. Then something moved in the treeline — fast, too fast for her to catch clearly. A pale blur.
Tammy sat up straighter.
“What the hell…” she muttered, leaning forward, eyes squinting through the glass.
The figure was gone. Only the fog remained, hanging heavy over the ditch. She shook her head, exhaling. “Too many damn horror movies.”
But the road ahead was empty. Silent. Too silent.
Her headlights flickered. The engine coughed once. Then again. The car shuddered and rolled to a stop. Still running, but no longer moving.
Tammy cursed under her breath and shoved the gearshift, but the car wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, she opened the driver’s side door, one foot on the gravel shoulder.
That’s when she heard it — footsteps. Not behind her. Not in front of her. All around her, circling in the fog.
“Hello?” she called, her voice trembling. “Who’s out there?”
The woods answered with laughter. Not one voice, but several. High and cold, weaving through the trees like a broken song.
Her scream tore through the night. Then, just as suddenly, silence.
Her car sat on the roadside, headlights still on, engine humming softly. The door swung open, rocking in the breeze. A smear of blood trailed into the treeline — twenty feet before stopping abruptly, as if whatever had taken her no longer needed to leave a trail.
The Next Morning – Sheriff’s Office
Jen O’Connor slammed her fists on the sheriff’s desk, eyes red and wild.
Jen (furious): “Her car was still running! Door wide open, lights on! And you’re telling me she just… wandered off?”
Sheriff Wallace (calm, dismissive): “Could’ve been an animal. Woods are thick out there. Predators grab people sometimes, drag ‘em off.”
Jen (snapping): “An animal doesn’t stop twenty feet in! The blood trail ends like someone just… carried her away.”
Deputy (hesitant, under his breath): “Or like she vanished.”
Sheriff Wallace (snapping): “Enough. Until we get evidence, this is a missing person case. Nothing more.”
Jen (voice cracking): “You don’t believe me… you don’t want to. Because if you did, you’d have to admit something’s hunting people out there.”
The sheriff didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the paperwork in front of him. Jen stormed out, the door slamming behind her.
The deputy lingered by the window, staring out at the fog still clinging to the woods.
Deputy (muttering): “Three gone in a week… that’s no coincidence.”
The sheriff didn’t answer.
The office fell silent — heavy with the kind of fear no one wanted to name.
Chapter Four – The Newcomers
The gravel road crunched under the tires as Marcus’s old Jeep pulled into the campground. The headlights swept over picnic tables, a few scattered tents, and the shimmering edge of the lake. The group inside was buzzing with energy, their weekend just beginning.
“Finally,” Jess groaned from the backseat, stretching her legs. “If I had to listen to one more of Marcus’s classic rock power ballads, I was gonna throw myself out the window.”
Marcus grinned in the rearview mirror. “Hey, don’t hate on the soundtrack of legends.”
Sitting beside him, Paige smirked, clutching her thermos. “I’m just glad we made it before dark. These woods look straight out of a horror movie.”
“Don’t say that,” Leo cut in from the back, hauling a cooler onto his lap. “We’re here to chill, not freak ourselves out.”
The Jeep rolled to a stop near a fire pit. They piled out, laughing, unloading gear. The campground seemed ordinary enough — kids chasing each other with glow sticks, a couple roasting marshmallows across the way. Normal. Safe.
But the locals didn’t look at them the same way.
At the camp store, while Marcus bought firewood, a heavyset man behind the counter eyed him with suspicion. His nametag read FRANK.
Frank (gruff): “You and your friends just gettin’ in?”
Marcus (cheerful): “Yep. Weekend trip. Thought we’d camp, hike, maybe hit the lake.”
Frank’s jaw tightened. He leaned closer over the counter.
Frank: “Stay close to camp. Don’t go wanderin’ after dark. Lotta folks been disappearin’ lately.”
Marcus laughed nervously, thinking it a joke. “Disappearing, huh? Like Bigfoot’s snatching ‘em up?”
Frank didn’t laugh. His eyes were flat, serious.
Frank: “Three in the last week. A hiker. A couple on the lake. And Tammy O’Connor.”
Marcus blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… missing people? For real?”
Behind him, Jess, Paige, and Leo froze, listening.
Frank lowered his voice. “No bodies. No tracks. Just gone. Sheriff says accidents, but… accidents don’t leave cars running and blood trails vanishin’ into the trees.”
Jess stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “So what do you think happened?”
Frank hesitated, glancing toward the window, toward the woods. His voice dropped to a whisper.
Frank: “I think there’s somethin’ out there. And it’s hungry.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
Back at camp, the fire crackled. Jess sipped from a beer, staring at the woods.
Jess (uneasy): “Okay… so that was creepy. Are we seriously just gonna pretend that didn’t freak us out?”
Paige (trying to sound light): “It’s campfire gossip. Every town’s got stories.”
Leo (shaking his head): “Three disappearances in one week isn’t just a story.”
Marcus (forcing a grin): “Come on. If there really was a monster in the woods, this place wouldn’t even be open. We’ll be fine.”
But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the way Frank’s voice had lowered, almost pleading, when he’d said those last words: “And it’s hungry.”
The laughter around the fire didn’t last long. Every rustle from the treeline made them pause. Every echoing hoot in the distance felt just a little too close.
The woods were watching.
Chapter 5 – The Picnic Encounter
The forest trail wound steadily upward, sunlight dripping through the canopy in golden rays. The morning had been clear, bright, the kind of day that made even the most cautious hiker relax.
Mara adjusted her backpack straps and squinted up the hill. “This trail better be worth it. I heard there’s a lookout with a view of the entire valley.”
“Worth it? I’m starving already,” laughed Jason, carrying a cooler under one arm. “If we don’t stop soon, I’m eating the trail mix AND the bag it came in.”
Behind them, Lily nudged her boyfriend, Chris. “You hear that? If he eats plastic again, we’re not sharing a tent with him tonight.”
They were still laughing when the trail opened into a small clearing. There, half-hidden in the shadows of tall pines, another camp came into view — a cluster of dark tents pitched neatly in a half circle. The smoke of an old fire pit drifted faintly, though no flame burned.
And there they were.
A group of strangers lounged around the fire ring. All of them looked oddly still, as if resting. Too still. Pale faces lifted at once when the hikers came into view, every head turning in perfect unison.
“Whoa,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Creepy much?”
Mara elbowed him. “Shut up. They’re just other campers.” She forced a smile and waved. “Hey! Morning!”
The strangers rose slowly, gracefully, as if daylight itself barely touched them. A tall man with sharp cheekbones stepped forward, his lips curving into a polite, practiced smile.
“Good morning,” he said smoothly. His voice was deep, almost melodic. “Headed up the ridge?”
“Yeah,” Chris said, shifting his backpack. “Thought we’d see the view, maybe have some lunch at the top.”
“Excellent choice,” the man replied, his dark eyes glinting. Behind him, a woman with raven-black hair tilted her head and whispered something to another camper, who smirked.
Jason cleared his throat. “So, uh… you all camping here for the weekend?”
The man’s smile widened. “We’ve been here for… a while.”
That strange pause hung in the air just a beat too long. Mara tried to break it by stepping forward. “Well, maybe we’ll run into you again on the way back down.”
The man’s eyes flicked to her, unreadable. “Yes. I’m sure we will.”
Lily shivered and tugged Chris’s arm. “We should keep moving. It’s getting hot already.”
The group of hikers nodded politely and moved back onto the trail, but Jason kept glancing over his shoulder until the dark tents were swallowed by trees.
When they were finally out of earshot, Jason muttered, “Okay, tell me that wasn’t weird. They were just sitting there… like statues.”
“They’re probably tired,” Mara said, though her voice lacked conviction. “Not everyone’s a morning person.”
“Morning person?” Jason scoffed. “They looked like they’d never seen the sun in their lives.”
Lily lowered her voice. “And did you notice their eyes? They all looked at us like—like we were the main course.”
“Stop,” Mara whispered sharply. “You’re gonna freak me out. Let’s just focus on lunch, okay?”
By the time they reached the ridge, the unsettling encounter had started to fade, replaced by the beauty of the view. The valley stretched out endlessly, the river glinting like silver beneath them.
Chris spread a blanket, Jason popped open the cooler, and the four friends tried to relax. Laughter returned, carried on the wind. But even as they ate, Mara found herself scanning the tree line below.
It felt like someone was watching them.