SATURDAY NIGHT
The fire cracked in the middle of a small clearing not far from the mansion, just deep enough into the woods to feel separate from civilization. The trees loomed around them, tall and dark and whispering with the occasional breeze. A few old logs had been dragged into a loose circle around the firepit, joined by folding camp chairs and an overturned crate serving as a makeshift table. Bottles of soda and half-eaten bags of chips littered its surface.
Orange flames licked at the air, sending occasional sparks spiraling into the night. The smoke curled up through the leaves, and somewhere far off, a cicada buzzed lazily in the heat.
Everyone had settled into the mellow lull that came after a long day. Feet stretched out toward the fire. Voices low and relaxed. Tasha leaned back with her arms behind her head, eyes closed and humming a tune Ryan didn't recognize. Derrick was poking at the fire with a stick, watching the embers shift like he was waiting for them to form answers. Luke sat cross-legged on a sleeping bag, sipping from a can of soda and watching everyone with that usual mischievous glint in his eye.
Ryan sat near the edge of the circle, hoodie pulled halfway up, fingers absently rubbing his palms. Emily was across from him, quiet, legs pulled to her chest, her face half-lit by the flames.
Luke cleared his throat suddenly, and the lazy spell broke.
"So, uh… question," he said, loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "What really happened earlier today?"
Ryan looked up. "What are you talking about?"
Luke grinned. "You and Emily. Cliffside. You two disappeared for what? Fifteen minutes?"
Emily stiffened slightly. "We were gone like six minutes."
Tasha sat up. "Wait, is this what I missed while I was trying to take a selfie with the boulder shaped like a turtle?"
"You mean the one you fell off?" Derrick asked.
"Shut up. The point is, nobody said anything about a disappearance."
Ryan shifted in his seat. "It wasn't a big deal."
Luke gave a faux gasp. "No big deal? Our two favorite emotionally-repressed humans just casually wander off into the jungle together? On a romantic hike? Alone?"
Emily rolled her eyes. "It wasn't romantic."
"Then why did you come back looking like someone hit you with a ghost story?"
Ryan shot him a look. "Because it's a creepy jungle, Luke. And I thought I saw something."
"Ohhh," Tasha said, raising her eyebrows. "Saw what exactly?"
Emily cut in before Ryan could answer. "He thought he saw someone. Like, a person. Moving through the trees. We checked. There was nothing."
"Except the part where he took off sprinting like a lunatic," Luke added.
"You were spying?" Ryan asked, eyebrow twitching.
"I looked up and you were just gone," Luke said, hands up. "You took off into the trees like you were chasing Bigfoot, and then Emily followed you like it was a scene from one of those slow-burn crime shows."
Ryan said nothing.
Derrick chuckled and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Okay, wait. Let me get this straight. You saw a guy. In the jungle. On a private island. Past a cliff."
"I saw something," Ryan said, sharper now. "Could've been a person, yeah."
Tasha made a low "oooh" sound. "So mysterious. Island Stranger™. Should we start locking our doors?"
"We don't even have locks out here," Derrick muttered.
Emily looked directly at the fire now, her voice flat. "It was probably nothing. It's easy to imagine things when the trees are closing in."
Ryan glanced at her, frowning. But he didn't argue.
Luke gave one last smug smirk. "Okay, okay, I'll leave it alone. But for the record…" He pointed between them dramatically. "I still think something went down."
"Nothing went down," Emily said.
"Sure," Luke said, cracking open another soda. "And I totally believe that."
Ryan looked away again, his jaw tight. The others laughed lightly and let the moment drift off, but the tension lingered just long enough for Emily to notice it.
Across the fire, her gaze met Ryan's for half a second. There was something unreadable in his eyes. Not anger. Not embarrassment.
Something heavier.
She looked away first.
The fire popped again. A gust of wind moved through the trees like a passing whisper.
Derrick picked up a stick and leaned back in his seat. "Alright," he said, "so if no one's going to confess to secret cliffside makeouts or admit we're being stalked by a leaf monster, then somebody better start telling a story. Ghosts. Demons. Something."
Tasha raised her hand like a kid in class. "I got one. But I warn you—it involves a possessed garden gnome and a Walmart parking lot."
Groans and laughs filled the air as the conversation moved on. But Ryan didn't join in.
Not yet.
His eyes lingered on the woods.
And that nagging chill at the back of his neck still wouldn't go away.
Tasha was halfway through her story—something about a cursed lawn ornament and a terrified cashier—when Luke stood up and stretched with a loud yawn.
"Okay, okay," he said, rubbing his stomach. "Either the soda's working through my organs or I had way too much trail mix. I need to find a bathroom before I explode."
"Nature's right there," Derrick gestured to the woods. "Pick a tree. Make it your own."
"I'm looking for privacy, not poison ivy on the ass," Luke shot back, already walking toward the tree line. "I'll be back in a sec."
Ryan's eyes followed him out of the firelight. His silhouette disappeared fast between the trunks.
The group laughed it off and kept talking. Tasha finished her story to scattered applause, Derrick offered a weak ghost tale about a haunted mini-fridge, and someone dared Emily to tell a scary cop story, which she firmly declined.
And still… no Luke.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Ryan checked his phone for the time, subtly. Still no sign of movement in the shadows.
Tasha glanced up. "He's really taking his time out there, huh?"
"Dude probably found a comfy log and fell asleep," Derrick joked, though his voice was quieter now. "Or he's fighting a raccoon for dominance."
Fifteen minutes.
"Okay, but seriously," Emily said, her voice sharper. "Where is he?"
Ryan stood. "I'll go check—"
"No," Derrick interrupted, getting up with a groan. "I'll do it. If I let you go, you'll start chasing ghosts again."
Ryan didn't laugh.
"Be careful," Tasha said, suddenly serious.
Derrick grabbed a flashlight from the supply crate and flicked it on. A bright beam cut through the dark trees like a blade.
"Luke!" he shouted. "If you're pooping in the woods and I catch you, I'm never letting you live it down!"
His voice faded as he walked off.
The fire crackled.
The woods rustled.
Twenty minutes.
No response.
No rustling leaves. No "found him!" shout. No dumb comment from Luke returning with a stick pretending it was a jungle weapon.
Tasha shifted uncomfortably. "This… isn't funny anymore."
Ryan stood again. "I'm going."
This time, no one stopped him.
Emily got up too, grabbing a second flashlight from the crate.
The three remaining around the fire looked at one another—tense now, visibly unsettled. That earlier comfort, the laughter, the teasing—it all felt like it had happened days ago.
Ryan moved fast through the trees, calling Luke's name as the beam of his flashlight shook in his hand.
Something in his gut twisted.
Something was wrong.
Luke doesn't just disappear like this. Sure, he's a prankster—always has been—but he knows when to quit. He knows the line between funny and messed up. And this?
This felt messed up, but if his suspicions are correct they need to find Luke. NOW.