I should have known the forest wasn't just alive.
I should have known Hollow Pines didn't merely hide its horrors. It watched.
And now I knew.
---
I woke to the gray dawn, pressed against the roots of a massive tree. My muscles screamed with exhaustion, my skin was caked with mud, and my clothes were torn. The fog hung thick over the forest floor, swirling like smoke that refused to dissipate.
I didn't dare move at first. Every sound — a snapping branch, a rustling leaf, a whisper on the wind — set my heart hammering. I felt their eyes before I saw them, dozens, maybe hundreds, observing from the mist.
I didn't know what "they" were. Not fully human. Not fully animal. Some aspects of them were familiar — a flicker of a friend's face, a flash of a human limb — but always distorted, monstrous. Hollow Pines had its own architects of terror: the Watchers.
And I was their prey.
---
I forced myself to stand. Every step I took, the forest seemed to shift beneath my feet, as if alive, as if testing me. Roots twisted into hands, trying to trip me, branches reached out like fingers, grasping at my clothes and hair.
I followed a faint path I thought I recognized — a trail of broken branches and trampled leaves. Every so often, I glimpsed something moving just beyond the fog. Figures that froze the moment I looked directly at them. Eyes that glimmered red, reflecting light that didn't exist.
"They're watching," I muttered to myself. The voice sounded hoarse, unfamiliar, as if even I didn't recognize it.
---
Hours passed. I stumbled into a small clearing dominated by a massive stone circle. I froze.
In the center were bones. Arranged in impossible shapes. Human and animal. Feathers, hair, remnants of clothing. And in the middle… a journal.
I approached cautiously, hands shaking. The air smelled of decay and rain-damp earth.
The journal was different from the one I found in the cabin. This one was bound in leather, etched with strange symbols that seemed to writhe under my gaze. I opened it.
"The Watchers are patient. They are eternal. They feed on fear, despair, and blood. Hollow Pines has claimed the forest, and all who enter become part of it. Trust none. Fear all. Even yourself."
I swallowed hard. The words felt like a weight pressing on my chest.
Another passage caught my eye:
"The Watchers are everywhere. Faces in the trees, shadows that move when unseen, whispers that reach inside the mind. To resist is to survive. To succumb is to join the collection."
---
I was shaking. Not just from cold, but from understanding.
The forest didn't just manipulate space. It manipulated minds. It used our own fears, our own desires, our own memories, to turn us against each other.
It was why Rachel, Kyle, Sarah, Mark… they were gone.
And I would be next if I didn't act.
---
I forced myself to keep moving, following the journal's instructions. Somewhere it hinted at a way to survive: "Face them. Do not run. Their forms are lies, their intentions are clear. Name yourself. Remember yourself. Only the unbroken may escape."
I didn't fully understand what it meant, but I had no choice.
I walked deeper into the forest, holding the journal like a shield. The whispers grew louder, louder than I could bear. They spoke in voices I recognized. Kyle's, Rachel's, Mark's… distorted, grotesque.
"Ethan… join us…"
"Play… play… play…"
"You cannot escape…"
I clenched my fists. I screamed into the fog: "I AM ME!"
The echoes returned, mocking, twisting my words, turning them into gibberish. But I felt something shift. A faint weight lifted, as if the forest hesitated.
---
Then I saw them.
The Watchers.
They emerged from the fog like a tide. Shapes tall and thin, faces flickering between human and monstrous. Limbs bent in impossible ways. Eyes glimmering red, unblinking, cold.
And yet… they weren't moving aggressively. They circled, studying, analyzing. Waiting.
I remembered the journal. "Face them. Do not run."
I stood my ground. Heart hammering. Sweat dripping into my eyes. "I… AM… ME!" I shouted again.
One of them stepped forward. It wore Kyle's face. His eyes were black voids. I could feel the forest twisting inside it, warping its human features into something alien.
"Ethan…" it hissed. "You will join us. You will play…"
I gritted my teeth. "I AM ME. NOT YOU."
It froze.
Another step forward. Another face. Rachel. And then Mark. All distorted, all monstrous, yet all hesitant.
The whispers fell silent.
---
I don't know how long I stood there. Hours? Minutes? Time was fluid in Hollow Pines.
But I realized something: the Watchers respected one thing. Resistance.
If you didn't succumb. If you didn't run blindly. If you remembered who you were.
You survived.
For now.
---
I left the clearing as the first hints of sunlight broke through the mist. The Watchers didn't follow. At least, not immediately. But their eyes burned in my memory. They were patient. Eternal. Watching.
And I knew that no matter how far I ran, Hollow Pines had already marked me.
I wasn't safe. I wasn't free.
But I had a plan.
The journal mentioned an exit. A way to leave the forest. A place where the Watchers' influence weakened. I didn't know if it was true, but it was my only hope.
---
By nightfall, I had reached the edge of a river. Cold, dark, moving fast. I paused, listening. The forest was quiet here. The whispers were distant, almost… hesitant.
I followed the journal's directions, moving upstream, hoping against hope. Every step was agony. My legs were torn, my feet raw. But I kept going.
And then, I heard it.
A scream. High-pitched. Human. Familiar.
Rachel?
I froze, heart in my throat. The fog shifted, revealing… a shape. She—or something wearing her—was caught in the undergrowth. Her eyes wide, her mouth screaming silently.
The Watchers circled her. Feeding. Mocking.
I had a choice. Run. Or fight.
I stepped forward.
---
The forest was alive. It was waiting. But for the first time, I felt… defiance.
I would not be a plaything.
I would not be claimed.
I would survive.
Even if it killed me.