Officer Hale slammed the receiver back into its cradle on the wall-mounted phone, frustration etched across his face. He had tried the number three times now. Same result—nothing. Just a flat, dead silence on the other end.
He let his hand rest on the receiver, fingers tense. Then he sighed, deeply, and turned away.
The living room felt colder somehow. Quieter.
He walked over to the couch and sank into it, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. The words still echoed—"Help me, Daddy." A child's voice.
Just as he leaned forward, trying to make sense of what he'd heard, a faint noise caught his attention.
Scrrrp.
It came from outside. The side of the house, maybe the porch.
He froze.
Another sound followed—closer this time. A soft tap, like someone brushing against the wooden deck. Not loud or hurried.
Hale stood up slowly. His eyes flicked toward the front door. His feet carried him there on instinct, but he moved without rushing.
Hand on the doorknob, he paused, listening again.
Silence.
Then—tap. Just once.
He opened the door and stepped outside.
The evening air greeted him, in a scary warmth. He looked out across the yard. The porch light flickered slightly but he saw nothing.
However, just beyond the fence line, where the grass gave way to trees, something shifted. Not a big movement—just enough to be noticed.
He took a step forward. "Hello?" he called.
No answer.
Only the rustle of a branch settling back into place.
It was getting dark, the last light of the evening fading into deep purple. Still, something about the moment wouldn't let Hale walk away.
He stepped off the porch.
The grass brushed against his ankles, damp from the day's humidity. He moved cautiously, calling out again—"Hello? Is someone there?"—but his voice sounded smaller now, swallowed by the space between him and the trees.
Then he saw it.
A small figure standing near a tree.
It didn't move at first, just stood there, almost blending into the bark. Hale paused, squinting. "Hey!" he called, taking another slow step forward. The figure turned—just slightly—then slipped behind the trunk.
He walked faster now, not running, but with urgency. When he reached the tree, the figure was already farther ahead, standing near another tree deeper in the woods. Still facing him. Still watching.
And again, it turned. Again, it moved.
Like it was leading him.
Hale hesitated only for a moment before pushing forward, leaves crunching underfoot. Each time he neared the figure, it drifted just far enough away—around a stump, behind a log, beside a crooked branch.
Always just out of reach.
And always waiting.
The trees grew denser around him now, the path behind him swallowed by shadows. But Hale didn't turn back.
As Hale moved deeper through the trees, the air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. His boots crunched lightly over fallen twigs and scattered leaves. For a moment, he stopped—something in him whispering to pause, to look back.
He turned slowly.
But the path behind him… didn't look right.
He narrowed his eyes, scanning the trunks and undergrowth. The branches looked closer than before. The trees—were they… shifting?
His breath caught.
It was like the forest had rearranged itself. Paths that were clear a minute ago now looked overgrown. The space between the trees was tighter, pressed in, almost like the woods were breathing around him.
No.
He took a step back, then another—eyes darting left and right. Every tree looked the same. Every branch familiar in a way that made his chest tighten.
"This is not normal," he muttered.
He turned.
And ran.
The ground wasn't easy, roots and uneven patches trying to trip him with every step, but he didn't stop. Branches scratched at his arms, the dim light barely enough to see—but still, he ran.
After what felt like forever, the trees finally began to thin. He burst out of the woods, panting hard, the soft yellow glow of the porch light barely visible ahead.
Only when he reached the steps of the house did he stop, hands on his knees, catching his breath.
He looked back at the woods. The trees stood still now, quiet and unmoving.
But he wasn't fooled.
Whatever that was… it wasn't finished with him.
He'd come back in the morning.
With a plan.
And maybe a weapon.