Death in the shadows

It took a few seconds to realize I was utterly and completely lost.

The sun had been overhead when we started hiking just a casual walk to a “hidden cabin site” that my boyfriend swore he could find from memory. No signal, no GPS, just trees, and trust.

We’d been walking for hours. The forest was vast, dense, and unfamiliar. Thick acacia trees stretched like ancient guardians toward the sky, their branches tangled into a canopy that blocked most of the light. The deeper we went, the more the trail behind us seemed to vanish. It was like the forest was swallowing our path whole.

My feet ached. Our group had gone quiet, save for the occasional question:

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“I swear it was just past the big split tree…”

But there were no markers anymore. No signs. Nothing but forest in every direction.

Then my boyfriend stopped walking.

His eyes were fixed on the sky, but it wasn’t awe—it was concern. Confusion. That kind of stillness people have when they notice something they should’ve seen long ago.

“Do you hear that?” he asked quietly.

We all paused.

I didn’t realize it until then: the forest was silent. Dead silent. No birds. No squirrels. No rustling of animals in the brush. Not even bugs. No crickets chirping. No wind.

Just… nothing.

That kind of silence doesn’t happen in nature unless something’s wrong.

A chill settled over me.

“Okay, we need to turn around,” one of my friends whispered.

“But which way is back?” another said. “Everything looks the same.”

Panic crept in.

The trees were closing in now or maybe it just felt that way. The forest floor was uneven, full of roots and rocks and soft patches that seemed to swallow your feet. Every direction looked identical, but different somehow, like the forest kept changing behind our backs.

“Let’s just stop for now,” my boyfriend said finally. “We’ll rest, and I’ll try to call someone.”

He pulled out his phone. Nothing. No bars. He tried walking in different directions, arm outstretched to the sky, but it was hopeless.

We decided to set up camp right there. There was no point in walking further into something we didn’t understand.

As we laid out blankets and tried to light a fire, my boyfriend and my friend’s boyfriend decided to go find help or at least figure out where we were. They said they’d get firewood too. I wanted to protest, to tell them not to leave, but the way they looked at us trying to be brave, trying to keep calm for our sake I just nodded.

So it was me and the other girls, sitting in a quiet circle as the last bits of sunlight disappeared behind the dense canopy.

“Don’t worry,” one of them said. “They’ll come back soon.”

“I don’t like this,” another whispered. “I don’t like this forest. It feels like… it’s watching us.”

We tried to talk about anything else school, work, stories, dumb gossip but nothing could drown out that feeling. That we weren’t alone. That the forest was waiting.

We laid back and stared at the stars. Except we couldn’t really see them. The trees above us were too tall, too wide, blocking out the sky. Only a few stars peeked through. The moon tried to help, but it barely lit our campsite.

Then I saw him, my boyfriend. His silhouette standing between the trees.

“Come help me, baby!” I called out, half laughing, relieved.

“We’re cold! Where’s the fire?”

He didn’t move. Just stared.

Then he said softly, “Jessica… please…”

I stood up, confused.

“I miss you,” he said, but something about it was wrong. Off. Flat. Like someone trying to imitate his voice.

I called his name again. No response.

I pulled out my phone to shine a light toward him and that’s when the shadow shifted.

His body twisted, elongated unnaturally. His eyes were pitch black. His smile stretched too wide. His clothes looked like my boyfriend’s, but too clean, too… perfect, except the shoes. They were dirty. Muddy. One thing I knew, was that my boyfriend would never let his shoes get dirty. He once went back to the car just because he stepped in a puddle.

That wasn’t him.

I stepped back. My throat tightened.

Behind him, more figures appeared. My friend’s boyfriend. Then others at least six or seven men emerging from the trees. All of them had blank expressions. None of them blinked.

And then they screeched.

The sound was like metal scraping against bone. Piercing. Unnatural.

One of my friends stood up. “That’s him! It’s him!” she cried, running forward.

I screamed, grabbed her arm. “No! Don’t”

She yanked herself away.

I chased her, yelling her name, but she ran straight into the arms of the creature.

It smiled. Slowly. Painfully. And wrapped its arms around her like a lover.

Then it changed.

Its skin peeled back like old bark, revealing something rotten underneath. Its limbs bent the wrong way. Horns sprouted from its back. And still, it held her. As she screamed, it sank long teeth into her neck.

She turned to me as the blood poured out, and collapsed.

I stood frozen as the other creatures began stomping in unison, a rhythmic pounding that echoed through the trees.

“WELCOME TO OUR KINGDOM,” they chanted.

The trees began to move—not swaying, but bending, forming unnatural arches and shifting their positions as if alive.

I ran.

Back to camp, back to the others, screaming, crying, stumbling over roots.

My friends were huddled together, pale and trembling. I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. My vision started to blur. My stomach turned and twisted. I dropped to my knees and vomited.

Then the chanting returned, softer now, almost like a lullaby:

“The death of one is the death of many…”

“Lost in the woods, where no one can find you…”

The shadows surrounded us again. This time, there were more of them. Watching.

“Come join your friends on the other side,

Where the shadows roam, and the souls hide…”

I collapsed.

And then sirens.

A blinding white light cut through the forest. Men in gear. Voices yelling.

“Over here! We got them!”

Arms lifted me up. I heard a helicopter. Stretchers. Walkie-talkies. Real people.

Someone whispered in my ear as they carried me away:

“You’re safe now. But our secret is our secret.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw him. The leader. Watching. Smiling.

He shifted again, this time into a deer, with glowing red eyes and twisted antlers.

“You tell,” he whispered, as he turned and disappeared into the woods,

“the whole town dies.”