The forest doesn't just swallow you.
It waits. Patiently. It bends reality until you're not sure what's real and what's an echo of fear.
When we stumbled back through the treeline, hearts still hammering from the totem swinging gently in the breeze, nothing looked familiar. Our camp, which had been our only anchor to the real world, had vanished completely. The fire pit, the tents, the SUV — everything gone. As if it had never existed.
Rachel screamed. High-pitched, shattering. She dropped to her knees, clawing at the empty dirt like she could dig us back into reality. "This isn't real! This isn't real!"
I wanted to tell her it was, that we were fine, that it was a trick of the forest. But even as I opened my mouth, a cold chill curled around my spine, and I realized something worse than fear: we were trapped.
Kyle pulled us both to our feet. His hands shook, but his voice was sharp, commanding. "We need to find Mark. Now. Stay close. Don't… don't split up."
We followed the path — if it could even be called a path. Everything looked wrong. Trees shifted oddly, roots twisted into shapes that felt like hands reaching for us. Every time we looked back, the totem swung slightly, always there, always watching.
---
It wasn't long before the first sign of him appeared.
Mark's backpack, shredded and smeared with blood, hanging from a low branch.
"Mark…" Rachel whispered, her voice breaking.
Kyle ran forward, but something made him stop short. Scrawled on the dirt below the backpack, in long, jagged scratches, were letters:
"HE WANTS TO PLAY."
I stumbled back, tripping over a root. My flashlight fell from my hands, and when I picked it up, I caught movement in the trees — shadows stretching longer than they should, twisting toward us.
"Play?" I echoed, voice barely audible. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Rachel grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. "We're leaving. NOW."
But leaving wasn't an option. The forest was alive, bending paths, shifting distances. Every step we took led us deeper, not out.
---
The first attack came suddenly.
I was ahead, flashlight cutting a path through the darkness. Rachel was close behind. Kyle and Sarah were just beyond, arguing in low, tense voices about which direction to take.
Then a branch snapped. Too sharp. Too deliberate.
We froze.
Something moved in the trees — fast. Too fast. Too unnatural. I swear it leaped from shadow to shadow, taller than a man, with long, twisted limbs and glowing red eyes that reflected the flashlight's beam.
Rachel screamed, stumbling backward. I lunged to grab her, but before I could, the thing darted out again, faster than I could see. And Mark… Mark's scream cut through the night.
High-pitched. Terrified.
Kyle yelled his name and sprinted toward the sound.
I didn't even think. I ran after him, flashlight bouncing across the trees. But when we reached the clearing, there was nothing. Only a patch of disturbed dirt and a single shoe.
Not Mark's shoe. Not anymore. Something else.
---
We stopped to catch our breath. Every nerve in my body screamed that we were being hunted. And we were.
Then Sarah screamed.
I spun just in time to see her being yanked into the shadows. One moment she was running beside us, the next she was gone — no struggle, no sound except her scream echoing off the twisted trunks.
Rachel grabbed my arm, eyes wide. "We need to run!"
Kyle didn't move. He just stared at the trees, frozen, mouth open. I shook him. "Kyle! Now!"
Finally, he snapped out of it, and we ran.
The forest seemed endless. Every path we tried to follow led us back to the same clearing. The same totem. And every time, we heard them — whispers, voices just beyond comprehension. "Come closer… come closer…"
---
By nightfall, we were exhausted, bleeding from cuts, and freezing. Hunger and fear gnawed at us. Our torches had burned out hours ago, leaving us in near-total darkness.
We stumbled across a stream — shallow, slow-moving water that reflected the moon like silver glass. Kyle insisted we follow it, hoping it would lead us somewhere safe. I didn't argue. I just walked, every step careful, listening for the faintest sound.
And then I heard it.
A laugh.
High-pitched. Human. And yet, not human. It bounced off the trees, echoing in impossible directions. It wasn't Mark.
It was playing with us.
Rachel clutched my arm, sobbing. "It's not letting us leave. It's not letting us leave."
I swallowed hard. "We just… have to survive. We just have to survive until morning."
But deep down, I knew morning wouldn't help. The forest had already decided who would live. And who would vanish.
---
Hours passed in a blur. Sleep wasn't an option. Every rustle, every whisper, every snapping branch made my stomach twist in knots.
That's when I saw it — a figure, barely visible through the mist, standing perfectly still. Mark. Or someone wearing him. His face twisted in a grotesque grin, eyes blacker than the forest around us.
"Ethan…"
I froze. His voice — no, the voice — called again. A lure.
Rachel screamed, trying to drag me away. But I couldn't move. I couldn't look away.
The figure stepped closer.
And then vanished.
---
We ran until our legs gave out. Collapsing against a tree, gasping, Rachel sobbing into my shoulder, I realized the terrible truth:
Mark was gone.
Not just missing. Gone. As if the forest had swallowed him whole. And the thing that wore his face, whatever it was, was still out there. Watching. Waiting.
We had survived the night. But none of us would survive the forest.
Because Hollow Pines didn't just kill. It collected.
And our names were next.