The Forest

"Ugh."

"What... the hell happened?" she murmured, pushing herself up from the grass. Her phone's flashlight pointed toward the sky.

Her vision swam, and a dull throb pounded at the side of her head. She pressed a hand against the left side and flinched at the pain. Her braided hair brushed against the fresh bruise, an irritating sting spreading across her scalp. It was about the size of her palm, sore and pulsing. She sat up, blinking, trying to piece together how she got there. The last thing she remembered was chasing after her little brother through the forest after their dog slipped out of its leash during a late-night walk.

"Shoot, where's Charlie?" She pushed herself to her feet, her body jolted awake by fear.

She scanned the area, but the darkness stretched in every direction. A breeze stirred the trees above, their thick canopy blocking out the moon. Her flashlight's weak glow flickered against the towering trunks, their shifting shadows looming like restless figures in the night.

"I can't even see my own hands," she thought.

She pulled her hood up, hoping to shield the wound from dirt.

Crouching, she picked up her phone, its glow lighting up her face. The time read 1:27 a.m., and the battery sat at 10%. She had been out for three hours. Her eyes lingered on the home screen—a photo of her, her little brother, and their dog, Mickey. They were all she had left after the accident.

"I have to find them," she thought, gripping the phone in her hand.

With what little power remained, she lit a path ahead with her phone. Shadows stretched and twisted, flickering against the gnarled trees. She pushed through tangled bushes and clawing branches, her hoodie and sweatpants catching and tearing. The sting of scraped skin barely registered.

Her mind clung to one thought—finding them. She considered calling out for Charlie or Mickey, but the throbbing in her skull held her back. Something had struck her. Something was out there.

She paused, gripping her phone tighter.

"This forest wasn't this big," she thought. "I should've hit a road by now. I should hear cars."

The silence pressed in, thick and wrong.

Snap!

She froze. Another snap followed. Then another. "Something's coming." The thought clamped down on her, sinking deep. Her breath caught as she stepped back, slow, careful.

"Penelope run," the word's barely left her lips. "Run now."

The thing in the dark moved. Heavy, fast. Each step pounded through the dead silence, growing louder, closer.

She turned too fast, stumbled, caught herself, then bolted. Her legs burned. The flashlight from her phone swung wildly, casting frantic beams between the trees. Shadows stretched and lunged as she tore through the forest, the thing behind her closing the distance with every step.

Thud!

Penelope hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through her bones. Her phone skidded across the grass, its light flickering as it spun to a stop. She lay there, breath shallow, the weight of dread settling deep in her chest.

The footsteps behind her stopped.

It was there. Watching.

She didn't need to see it to know. The air pressed down, thick and suffocating, the presence looming over her like a shadow with weight.

Her fingers dug into the dirt. Her lips parted, but no sound came. “Please, Lord... not like this," she prayed.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

A sharp, desperate cry tore through the air.

Penelope's eyes snapped open. A golden shape rushed toward her, fur glowing under a pale yellow light. Mickey. Her retriever bounded past, leaping at the thing looming over her. Teeth sank into flesh—or what passed for it. A shrill, unnatural wail erupted as the creature staggered back.

Her body jolted into motion. She scrambled forward, hands shaking as she snatched up her phone. The light quivered in her grip, but curiosity clawed at her. She turned the beam toward it.

The thing lashed at Mickey, its long, shriveled arms sweeping in violent arcs. Its limbs looked like twisted, dried-out roots, splitting and cracking with each movement. But its torso—thick, gnarled, like an ancient tree—held something worse.

Faces.

Dozens of them. Men, women, children. Their expressions frozen in horror, mouths stretched in silent screams. They looked too human, too lifelike, even as the wood twisted their features into something unnatural.

Penelope's breath caught. Her legs locked, but only for a second.

"Mickey!" she yelled, voice raw. "Come on! We have to go!"

Mickey tore away from the creature and bolted to Penelope's side. She stumbled toward the yellow glow, her gaze locking onto a heavy bunker door.

Her fingers wrapped around the metal knob, twisting hard.

The creature dragged itself forward, limbs bending wrong, nails clawing through dirt. A cry ripped from its throat— deep and wretched, like a whale's mournful call twisted into a woman's shriek.

Penelope's breath hitched. The door refused to budge. She yanked again, hands slick with sweat. Mickey crouched low, growling as the thing closed in, its hollow eyes locked on them.

"Come on!" she shouted, voice raw.

The knob gave. The door snapped open.

A hand shot out from the darkness inside, seizing her wrist.

Penelope's relief turned to shock, but she had no time to react. The creature's fingers—long, jagged, ice-cold—brushed her spine as she was yanked inside.

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Penelope collapsed against the cold floor, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Mickey licked her face, his body warm, solid, real. She buried her fingers in his fur, gripping tight.

They were still alive.