The first thing you notice about Hollow Pines isn't the trees themselves—it's the silence.
Not the peaceful, lazy silence of a summer afternoon, but a silence that presses against your chest like something alive, waiting. When we pulled off the main road and started down the gravel path that led into the forest, the music blasting from Jenna's speakers seemed to shrink, swallowed whole by the towering walls of pines that flanked us on both sides.
I told myself it was just nerves. College kids weren't supposed to believe in ghost stories. But even then, sitting in the backseat of Kyle's old SUV with my backpack at my feet, I couldn't shake the feeling that the trees were leaning in, listening.
There were six of us.
Kyle, the self-declared leader, always had to prove he wasn't afraid of anything. His girlfriend, Jenna, was glued to his side—loud, sarcastic, and armed with a camera she used to document every second of our trip. Then there was Sarah, quiet and cautious, clutching her sketchbook like it was a lifeline. Mark, Kyle's best friend, who masked fear with jokes. And Rachel, the fiery redhead who had talked me into coming when I'd first said no.
And me. Ethan Cole. The one who didn't want to be here, but came anyway, because that's what you do when your friends tell you not to be such a buzzkill.
We stopped at the last gas station before the forest swallowed the road completely. It looked like something out of a forgotten decade—rusted pumps, cracked windows, a Coca-Cola sign faded to almost nothing. Inside, it smelled like dust and motor oil. An old man sat behind the counter, thin as the broom propped against the wall, his eyes milky with cataracts.
"You kids heading up into Hollow Pines?" he rasped when Kyle dropped a bag of chips on the counter.
Kyle grinned. "Yeah. Gonna spend a couple nights out there. Camp, drink, you know—make memories."
The old man didn't smile back. His gaze drifted over us, one by one, and I swear his eyes lingered on me just a little too long.
"The forest remembers," he said finally. "Don't go digging where you don't belong."
Jenna rolled her eyes. "Classic creepy old guy line. Love it." She snapped a picture of him with her camera, the flash making him flinch.
I muttered a quiet thanks when he handed me my change, but he didn't respond. He just kept staring until we pushed out the door and the bell clanged shut behind us.
---
The gravel road narrowed until it was little more than two tire tracks winding deeper into the pines. Sunlight barely touched the forest floor, and the deeper we went, the darker it seemed to get—even though it was barely past noon.
"This is awesome," Mark said from the passenger seat, unwrapping his chips. "Like something straight out of Blair Witch. I bet we'll find some spooky witch symbols."
Sarah frowned. "That's… not really funny, Mark."
Kyle laughed. "Relax. It's just a forest."
But I noticed the way his hand tightened on the wheel.
By the time we reached the campsite, my nerves were stretched tight. The spot was nothing more than a clearing near a sluggish river, with a fire pit made from blackened stones. Someone had camped here before us—recently. The ashes in the pit were still gray instead of white, and there were boot prints in the mud that weren't ours.
"Score," Jenna said, hopping out of the car with her camera. "This place has vibes."
We spent the afternoon setting up tents, stacking firewood, and pretending not to hear the occasional snap of branches deeper in the forest. I kept telling myself it was just animals. That's all it could be. But every time I glanced up, I felt like something darted out of sight just beyond the tree line.
---
That night, the fire crackled and hissed while we sat in a circle, drinking cheap beer and telling ghost stories. The flames painted our faces in orange light, shadows dancing like restless spirits.
Mark leaned forward, grinning. "Okay, okay, I've got one. So, legend has it, Hollow Pines used to be a settlement way back in the 1800s. Whole town went missing—just vanished. They say the forest swallowed them whole, and now anyone who comes here hears their voices, calling from between the trees."
"Bullshit," Kyle said, though he glanced over his shoulder into the dark.
Sarah hugged her knees tighter. "I don't like this."
"That's because you're too chicken," Jenna teased, snapping another photo with the flash.
I was about to tell them to knock it off when something broke the rhythm of the night—a faint, sharp sound just beyond the firelight.
A scream.
Distant, but unmistakable.
The six of us froze, bottles halfway to our lips, laughter cut short.
"…Did you hear that?" Rachel whispered.
Kyle shook his head, forcing a grin. "Probably a coyote. Relax."
But it hadn't sounded like an animal. It had sounded like a person. A woman.
The forest went quiet again, too quiet. No crickets. No rustle of leaves. Nothing but the hiss of the fire.
I swallowed hard. "Maybe we should check it out?"
"Hell no," Jenna said quickly. "That's how people die in horror movies."
But Mark was already on his feet. "I'll go. It's probably just some other campers messing with us."
He grabbed a flashlight and disappeared into the trees before anyone could stop him.
---
We waited.
Five minutes. Ten. The fire burned lower, shadows stretching longer. Every so often, I thought I saw movement just beyond the ring of light—pale shapes, half-hidden between the trunks.
"Mark?" Rachel finally called, her voice trembling.
No answer.
"Goddammit," Kyle muttered, standing up. "Stay here. I'll go drag his dumb ass back."
"I'm coming with you," Jenna said, shoving her camera into her bag.
The two of them vanished into the woods, their flashlights bobbing like fireflies before the trees swallowed them whole.
Now there were only three of us—me, Sarah, and Rachel—huddled around the dying fire.
The silence pressed in again. Heavy. Waiting.
Then, from somewhere in the darkness, came the sound of wood knocking against wood. Once. Twice. Three times. A deliberate rhythm, like a signal.
Sarah's eyes went wide. "That's not them."
I stood slowly, heart hammering, and pointed my flashlight toward the trees. The beam caught on something hanging from a low branch.
A wooden totem. Roughly carved, its shape twisted and jagged, like a figure with no face. It swung gently in the night breeze, creaking.
I felt the breath leave my body.
And then, from the woods, came the faintest whisper.
My name.
"Ethan."
---
I don't know how long we stood frozen like that. Seconds? Minutes? The whisper slid under my skin, colder than the October air, curling in my chest like ice.
Finally, Kyle and Jenna stumbled back into the clearing, their flashlights cutting through the dark. Their faces were pale.
"Did you find him?" Rachel asked.
Kyle shook his head. "No trace. It's like he just… vanished."
Jenna bit her lip hard, her usual sarcasm gone. "Guys, I think we should leave. Now."
For once, nobody argued.
We started shoving things into bags, dousing the fire with what water we had left. The smoke curled upward in thin, ghostly fingers.
That's when I noticed something on the ground near the edge of the clearing.
Mark's phone.
The screen was cracked, smeared with something dark that looked far too much like blood.
And beneath it, pressed into the mud, was a single footprint.
Bare. Human. Larger than any of ours.
---
That was the moment I knew.
We weren't alone in Hollow Pines.
And the forest had just taken its first piece of us.