*Gulp Gulp Gulp* “Ahhh, that hits the spot,” Scotty excimed, tossing the empty can of sprite into the air without a care for where it would nd. *Spsh* The metallic can plummeted into the clear, sparkling waters of the river, sending ripples dancing across the surface. Suddenly, Scotty froze as a strange realization dawned on him.
“Wait a second. A river? Why am I in the middle of a forest? And how did I end up outside?” he mused, perplexed. He surveyed his surroundings, his head swiveling with rapid curiosity as he scanned the area. To an outsider, his frantic gnces might have appeared as if he had consumed too much sugar or that he did something embarrassing and was now desperately checking for onlookers.
As he surveyed the ndscape, it became increasingly apparent that he was indeed in a forest but not just any forest. The trees stood tall and majestic, stretching towards the sky in a manner he had never encountered before. Their trunks were colossal, and their leaves rustled gently in an unseen breeze, creating a symphony of whispers that felt almost alive. Scotty, with a keen interest in botany, marveled at their sheer magnificence. He'd spent many afternoons wandering through local woods, yet nothing compared to this enchanting realm.
In his mind, he couldn’t shake the notion that he had somehow been transported to another pnet. The trees seemed to soar thirty feet high or perhaps even taller. Each one a breathtaking monument of nature. Height estimation had never been his strong suit, and his ck of mathematical prowess had nded him in a few awkward situations before.
If he were a giraffe, he would surely need an extraordinarily long neck to reach the leaves above. But the oddities didn’t stop there. He noticed a peculiar movement from the trees around him. The trunks appeared to quiver, almost like they were breathing.
Scotty rubs his turquoise eyes gently with the inner part of his delicate hands, hoping to dispel the illusion. Yet, despite all his attempts, the vision remained unchanged. The trees were pulsing with a life of their own.
“There's no way,” Scotty gasps in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at the scene unfolding before him. A strange anxiety twists in his stomach as he contemptes taking a cautious step toward one of the trees looming nearby. He feels an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch the rough bark, to confirm whether his eyes are pying tricks on him. Yet, before doing so, he knows he must tread carefully. After all, he is a slender teenager, hardly five foot three, with a history of running away rather than fighting. The mere thought of confrontation sends a shiver down his spine, as when he recalls the only significant fight he ever had was with his younger sister. The memory of how she beat him left a wound on his pride as he was the older brother.
Pulling from the depths of his memory, he recalls techniques he'd once tried, inspired by countless videos of fighters demonstrating their skills. Scotty begins to unleash a series of test punches into the air, each one feeling increasingly invigorating. After several attempts, a flicker of satisfaction ignites within him as he inspects the inner part of his hand, a broad smile creeping across his face, a moment of mispced confidence. “Maybe I could actually defend myself if it came down to it.” He thinks to himself.
In stark contrast, his form was a comical disaster. He had the grace of someone begging for help rather than preparing for a fight, his limbs filing awkwardly as his legs tremble violently like amber leaves fluttering in a brisk autumn breeze. After fixating on his hands for what feels like an eternity, he shuts his eyes in an attempt to center himself. But as time drags on, the haunting echoes of terrified cries of men, women, and children screaming begin to infiltrate his thoughts, twisting his expression into an unnerving grin. While hearing those screams he felt some sort of substance on his hands so he opened his eyes to see that his hands were covered in blood. “W-W-Who's blood is this? What's with the screams I'm hearing and why do I feel happy to hear them?” He asks himself. He thought his reaction would be him screaming in fear but he was calm, unbothered by the screams and felt happy.
*Caw Caw* While deep in thought, Scotty suddenly hears a haunting caw reverberating through the stillness of the forest. He turns his head to the right and spots a crow perched high in one of the trees. This crow, like everything else in this mysterious woodnd, possesses an unsettling aura. Its feathers are a midnight bck, shimmering with an otherworldly sheen, and its beak appears extremely sharp, capable of inflicting harm on anything daring enough to challenge it.
What strikes Scotty as particurly bizarre is the crow's eyes. It’s pupils were eerily gzed over, as if it has long since departed from the realm of the living. But even more unnerving is the sensation that the bird is peering straight into his very soul, its unwavering gaze staring straight into Scotty's soul, to unveil some hidden truth. A strange confusion washes over him, as if he were grappling with a powerful force that demanded his voice. He feels an urge to express something, but his mouth seems to be sealed shut, as if bound by invisible glue, hindering any words from escaping.
*Caw Caw* The crow shrieks again. The sound slicing through the thick silence like a knife, jolting Scotty from his thoughts. When he blinks, he finds, to his utter astonishment, that the mysterious creature has vanished, leaving behind only an echo of its haunting call.
“What the. Where did it go?” Scotty asks himself out loud before he looks at his hands once more to see that his hands were no longer covered in blood. “Was I just seeing things? That has to be it.” As he was checking out his hands he realized that it was getting dark. “I'm wasting time. I need to check if I was correct about the tree breathing and then get out of here. I don't want to be here when it gets dark.”
“Okay let's do this,” he says to himself after he inhales deeply, gathering as much air as he can.With cautious steps, he begins to approach the colossal tree that was closest to him. The first few strides felt like a battle against his own instincts, a surge of doubt crept in as he contempted abandoning his mission. Yet, an unseen force seemed to push him forward, Perhaps it was the voice of his inner self, telling him to “toughen up.” He didn't know what it was but now that he had come this far he felt like he couldn't turn back. As he took his sixth step towards the tree he experienced an odd sensation. He felt like he was a delicate fly caught in the gravitational pull of a venus flytrap. The more he struggled to resist, the more irresistible the pull became. No matter how hard he tried to halt his advancement, his feet carried him closer, making surrender feel like an impossibility.
After three minutes he had made it over to the tree. He then takes another deep breath, swallows the saliva that had accumuted in his mouth and reaches his thin hand out. Just before his hand touches the tree he hears someone yell, “STOP. DON'T TOUCH THAT TREE!!!”
As he hears the voice elderly man, Scotty instinctively turns his head to the left, only to be met with the unexpected sight of a girl. This surprises him, as he thought he would see a elderly man. “Why not?” Scotty queries. The girl remains silent, her lips forming a delicate line, and he finds himself repeating the question, his patience beginning to wane. Still, she does not respond. Instead, she looks at him with a steady gaze that feels oddly tranquil, yet unnerving.
Timothy studies her intently, his eyes sweeping over her features as he tries to gauge any hint of threat. Her hazel brown hair cascades gracefully to her shoulders, shimmering like autumn leaves in soft sunlight. Her eyes dark and glossy could easily be mistaken for the lifeless buttons of a vintage doll, drawing him in with their unsettling allure. As he looked at her clothing he saw that she was wearing a royal blue dress that seemed to be from a bygone era, the fabric appearing both luxurious and well-crafted, as if it were a cherished relic from a more refined time. The contrast between her calm demeanor and her wealthy attire heighten the air of mystery that surrounds her.
After five long minutes of silence between them both, the girl suddenly opened her mouth, wider than Scotty ever thought a small child was capable of. A chilling sensation ran down his spine as he took in the sight. It was almost unnerving how her jaw seemed to unhinge, stretching beyond any natural limit. “W-W-Why not?” she asked, her voice echoing strangely in the still air. Scotty struggled to understand what she was saying. Although he recognized that she was speaking English, there was something unsettling about her tone, as if the very act of speaking had warped her voice into something foreign. Whatever she had said felt distorted, leaving him with a sense of confusion that only deepened the unusually atmosphere surrounding them.
An unsettling aura enveloped her words, creating a sinister undertone that sent a shiver down his spine. As he observed her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was not simply an ordinary girl. While he could overlook the peculiar ability to widen her mouth far beyond what seemed natural as everyone had their own unique quirks, there was something weird about the way she spoke. Her voice carried a strange cadence, as though she were articuting thoughts that didn't quite belong to this world.
“I'm sorry?” Timothy says with a bead of sweat running down his face.
“Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? “ The girl’s voice morphed with each repetition, becoming an unsettling cadence that resonated through the air. Each utterance twisted and warped, a sinister echo that sent shivers down Scotty’s spine.
As she spoke, a dark, viscous mist escaped her lips, pooling on the forest floor like shadowy ink spilling from an unseen well. It seemed as though her words were a malevolent force, gnawing away at the edges of his consciousness, tightening their grip around his mind. Not only that but the forest around him felt alive as well. The very trees and leaves humming with her ominous refrain, as if they too, were entranced by what she was saying. He felt paralyzed, caught in a web of fear, unable to move as her haunting whispers wrapped around him like creeping vines.
“STOP THAT!” Scottyy bellowed, his voice booming through the forest which also surprised him and made him slightly concerned as he thought he might have damaged his vocal cords. At the sound of his command, the girl ceased her relentless repetition of the same two words, and pulled a malevolent grin spreading across her face. Though her mocking silence offered a brief break, he could sense the anticipation in the air, tightening around him like a noose.With her not repeating herself he felt a flicker of control return to his legs and decided to retreat a few cautious steps back, bracing himself for whatever unsettling trick she might unleash next.
“What's the matter?” -Scotty halted in his tracks- “Scared? Worried? Terrified? “ As she probed into his feelings, he felt an unsettling shift in the air. Her head twisted in an unnatural manner, causing his pulse to quicken. The longer he gazed into her eyes, the more he felt as if they were drawing him in, binding him to the spot. He desperately wanted to blink, to break the strange spell, but it felt as if an unseen force was cmping his eyelids open, trapping him in a moment that felt both surreal and menacing.
“I need to get-”
“You can’t escape,” the girl says with a sinister smile, her head now tilted unnaturally upside down. “Not now.” In an unsettling motion, her head snaps back to its normal position, in a quick and jarring transition. “Do you have anything to say?” she asks, her voice dripping with a chilling resonance that lingers in his mind long after each word has faded.
“I-I-I-I.”
“Yes? “
“I don’t know,” Scotty replies, his voice trembling with fear. As those words escape his lips, the girl’s sinister smile fades away, transforming her into an ordinary girl standing there once more.
“Wrong answer,” the girl decres in an unexpected man's voice, a pyful chuckle escaping her lips as she swiftly turns and darts away. Once she was out of sight, he found himself blinking again, though not by his own volition. It felt as if his mind was racing to catch up, processing the countless moments he should have blinked while she spoke to him, each reluctant flutter of his eyelids a reminder of the enchanting absurdity of their exchange.
"What's going on?” Scotty thinks to himself in a haze of confusion, the girl's words echoing eerily in his mind. A couple seconds ter he stopped blinking and was back in control of his eyes. “I need to get out of here.” He looks around. “But which way?” He questions himself, anxiety tightening its grip. His eyes darted nervously from spot to spot, searching for a glimpse of escape amid the chaotic jumble of the forest.
“HELP ME!!!” The piercing cry of a girl echoed through the trees. The sound came from the direction the creepy girl had fled earlier. The thought of going to save the girl came into his mind, but some uncertainty gripped him like a vice. “What if this was the same girl, cleverly altering her voice to lure him into a trap?” Doubt crept into his mind as he hesitated and weighed out his options in the eerie silence of the forest.
“HELP ME!!!” The girl’s desperate plea rang out again, more heart-wrenching than before. This time, Scotty could hear the raw emotion in her voice. Fear and desperation unmistakably mixed into her words. Although caution tugged at his instincts, a flicker of compassion ignited in his chest. If he were in her shoes, he would want someone to come to his aid.
With some resolve, Scotty smacks his palms against his cheeks, feeling the sting jolt him into action. He had to help her. Ignoring the anxiety swirling in his gut, he sprinted toward the anguished cries, adrenaline surging through his veins. The branches whipped against his arms as he rushed deeper into the underbrush, each step fueled by the urgency of her calls.
Finally, Timothy arrives at what he thought was the source of the screams. Breathless, he paused, scanning the gloomy surroundings with wide, bewildered eyes. The trees loomed rge and ominous, casting eerie shadows that danced in the fading light. To his dismay, he realized he was back where he started, his heart pounding fiercely as confusion washed over him. “What… How is this possible?” he mutters under his breath, as a bead of sweat runs down his temple, leaving a cold trail in its wake.
Panic began to bubble within him. He hadn’t taken any left or right turns, he should have reached the girl by now. The oppressive silence of the forest seemed to mock him, and the once comforting scent of damp earth turned sour in his nostrils, he stood there frozen in confusion, as he grappled with the unsettling reality of his situation.
To confirm he was indeed in the same location, he turns his head to the right, catching sight of the river shimmering beside him. As he leaned in for a closer look, his gaze nded on something that made his heart race. The object that made his heart race was a can, bobbing rhythmically in the gentle current, unmistakably the same one he had unched into the air twenty or thirty minutes ago.
The can danced on the surface, glistening in the sunlight, affirming his suspicions. Curiosity piqued, he got in range of the can and picked it up, his fingers brushing against its cold, metallic surface. There, etched into the can, was his name, accompanied by the familiar number four hundred sixty-three, a mark he had carved to signify ownership. An unusual, yet personal, identifier for such an unremarkable object. “This can’t be happening,” he murmurs in disbelief, his mind racing to comprehend the impossibility of it all.
In a sudden impulse, he hurled the can back into the river with a spsh, and as it hit the water, the frantic cries for help echoed around him once more, chilling him to the bone.
“PLEASE, ANYONE HELP ME. PLEASE!!!”
“I'm coming! Just stay where you are!” Scotty shouts, his voice echoing through the thick, dense underbrush. Panic fuels his legs as he dashes towards the source of the desperate pleas. Yet, after sprinting for a full five minutes, he found himself back at the very spot he had started yet again for the second time. He looked towards the river to his surprise, there were now two cans in the water. One of the cans had the number four hundred and sixty two etched into it, while the other was the same one as before.
“HELP ME!!!” The girl's voice pierced through the air again, more frantic than earlier. Before dashing off to try to reach her, he pauses, as a sudden thought strikes him. He bent down to pick up a small, irregur rock that had a jagged edge and then walked over to the sturdy trunk of one of the many trees. With delicate care to not touch the trunk, he carved his name “Timothy” into the bark, adding two vertical lines beneath it to indicate the number of times he had found himself lost in this endless loop.
Once he did that, he took off, urgency still fueling his every step as he tried again to save the girl, but his efforts proved fruitless. Despite the frantic twenty minutes of searching, no matter which direction he chose, be it right, left, or straight he always found himself right back where he started. It was as if an unseen forced him to that single, haunting spot.
Now looking around he saw the scenery around him had decayed into a dismal reflection of its former self, littered with the remnants of his past. The vibrant, lively leaves that once danced in the breeze were now a grotesque amalgamation of pstic litter and decomposing foliage, their vibrant hues faded to an uninviting brown. The once majestic trees, full of life and vigor, now resembled weary, chain-smoking figures. The river, which had once flowed with crystal clear water, had transformed into a murky conduit of rusted metal cans and filth, a stark reminder of how beauty could be sullied.
Another haunting change y in the yells that echoed around him. Initially, they had been cries of desperation, raw with a need for salvation. Yet after the tenth time of his fruitless attempts, those cries shifted to become ced with frustration and irritation, directed at him. The shift was unsettling. Each yell resonated deeply within him, evoking memories of his father’s rage before the violence erupted. The sound of yelling struck him like a physical blow, causing Scotty to drop to all fours, choking on the rising tide of his anguish, feeling as though the air itself had thickened, making it impossible to breathe.
"P-P-P-P…Please, just stop…” He pleads, his voice trembling as tears spill down his cheeks as he presses his back against the rough bark of the tree. It’s trunk covered by countless tally marks, each one a silent testament to his torment.
When he uttered those words, the river of cans began to quiver, shimmering as if disturbed by an unseen force. Moments ter, an figure emerged from the heap, a girl who bore an uncanny resembnce to his sister. As she glided towards him, memories surge within him. With every step she took, the joyful recollections were brutally disrupted by shrill screams that echoed violently in his mind, so piercing that he feared his eardrums might shatter from the intensity. Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions,Scotty struggles to comprehend the scene that was happening before him.
As the girl approached, her presence grew more ominous with each step. Only a couple of feet away, she halted and, with a chilling smile that twisted her features. “Never,” her voice dripped with malice as she continued, “You killed us. All of us. And now you expect us to spare you? My question is, why should we? “ Hearing her ask that question Timothy starts to cry again. Seeing this the girl reaches out to him and as she’s about to put her index finger on his dry lips, the flesh on her fingers start to decay as her finger presses on them.
“Shhhhhhh,” the girl whispers, her voice hauntingly soft as it hangs in the warm air. It wasn't just her who hushed him. The trees surrounding them seemed to join in, their leaves rustling like secrets shared among close friends. “There's no time for crying,” she continues, her eyes glinting mischievously in the sunlight filtering through the branches. After a couple of seconds of her finger being on his trembling lips, she withdrew it, with the contact lingering like an unsaid promise. “Well, not yet anyway, Scotty,” she says, her tone shifting to something eerily pyful, sending a shiver down his spine.
“H-H-How did you know my name?” Scotty asks in fear.
“Your name isn’t the only thing we know,” the girl says, her voice dripping with confidence. “We know all your secrets, hidden deep where light rarely reaches. And if the w turns a blind eye, then we’ll be the ones to deliver justice.” As her words hung in the air like a dark cloud, Scotty's turquoise pupils constricted in fear, reflecting a dawning realization of the peril he faced.
“What does she mean by ‘We are going to deliver justice’?” he wonders to himself, confusion clouding his thoughts. As he pondered her cryptic words, a chilling realization dawned upon him. They were not alone in the shadowy depths of the forest. Emerging from the dim underbrush were figures. Some were battered and bloodied, while others appeared to be decaying.
Recognition washed over him like a wave, and names flicker through his mind like ghosts. Toni, Sabrina, Alice, Will, Michael, to name just a few. They were not just strangers, they were the very souls he had wronged, his victims, all seventy-five of them, now advancing towards him with a hauntingly silent fury. The air thickens with tension, and he felt the weight of their collective gaze, a reminder of his dark past.
“NO! NO! NO! STAY AWAY!!!” Scotty cries out in sheer panic, his voice echoing through the stillness of the forest. A wave of dread washed over him as he struggled to rise, but his body felt heavy, as if a sticky, invisible force had glued him to the rough bark of the tree he had leaned against. Desperation surged within him, fueling his determination. With every ounce of energy he could muster, he let out a bone-chilling scream, the sound reverberating off the trees as he frantically fought to pry himself free from the ominous grip that held him captive. With one st pull he tears the back of his flower pattern shirt and a thin yer of his skin making him scream in pain.
“Didn't I tell you not to touch the trees? “ The girl says as he struggles to get to his feet with the irregur stone that he used for the tally marks in his hand.
“STAY BACK!” Scotty shouts, his voice echoing with desperation. The figures before him, shrouded in shadows and intent, didn’t cease their relentless advance. “I'M WARNING YOU!” he yells again, panic cing his words as they continue to approach, their expressions void of mercy. “DAMN IT!” Just as he was about to unleash a furious swing at the nearest individual, a sudden, sharp pain gripped his chest. He staggered, his vision blurring, before colpsing onto the cold, unforgiving ground. Pain radiated through him like an electric current, tightening its vice-like grip around his heart. As he y there, gasping for breath, a circle of onlookers formed around him, their faces filled with joy and morbid fascination. They watched intently, eyes wide and unblinking, as he writhed in agony, each convulsion echoing the helplessness that filled the moment.
“Don’t pass out yet. The fun part is about to start,” the girl says, her voice ced with malice. But the excruciating pain that coursed through his chest and back proved to be too overwhelming, and despite what she said, he succumbed to the darkness, his consciousness slipping away like sand through his fingers.
“Gosh, where is he?” Scotty’s sister wonders aloud, her voice echoing slightly as she descends the wooden staircase. As she enters the cozy, sunlit kitchen, she takes in the heartwarming scene of their mom bustling around the stove, the savory aroma of breakfast wafting through the air, while their father in his crisp police uniform, was engaged in a serious phone conversation, a look of concentration on his face as he waits patiently for his meal.
“Mom, have you seen Scotty?” she asks, her tone a mix of urgency and impatience. “I really need his help with my math homework.”
“I think he's in the garden. He’s been there for quite a while,” their mothers remarks, as she sprinkles chilly fkes over their eggs, the soft sound of the kitchen blending with the summer heat. Hearing this, Scotty's sister detaches herself from the cozy ambiance of the kitchen and starts making her way to the back garden.
As she approaches the garden, the summer sun casts a warm glow over the vibrant flowers and the lush green grass. There, lying stretched out under the shade of a nearby tree, is Scotty.
“There you are. How can he be so comfortable lying on grass in this heat?” She muses to herself. A blend of confusion and worry envelopes her as she gets closer. When she stands over him, she bends down, and taps his sweaty face. “Scotty,” she calls, her voice a gentle whisper against the backdrop of chirping birds and rustling leaves. But he remains asleep, unresponsive to her call.
“Come on, wake up,” she urges, her tone shifting from gentle to insistent. When there’s still no reaction, she sps his face lightly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the garden. “Come on! Get up!” With that, she finally manages to wake him up from his slumber, his eyes snapping open. “Finally, your-”
Before she can finish her sentence, Scotty’s demeanor changes in an instant. He lunges upward, wrestling her to the ground with intensity that leaves her breathless. His eyes, once soft and gentle, are now bloodshot, filled with a wild, unsettling energy. He presses his frail left hand around her neck, the suddenness of his actions sending shockwaves of fear through her.
“Sco-tty,” his sister called out, her voice trembling with an edge of fear. But he was oblivious to her plea. A sinister smile crept across his lips, twisting his features, while his eyes gleamed with a manic intensity that sent chills down her spine. She had never witnessed this darker side of him before, and an icy dread settled in her chest as she wondered what he might do next. Each heartbeat felt like a countdown, fueling her anxiety and amplifying the atmosphere of unpredictability surrounding him.
Though in his twisted perspective, what he was doing made perfect sense, a dark logic that thrilled him as he relished the fear etched on the creepy girl's face. Ever since he was in that eerie forest, she had been a constant tormentor. But now, the tables had turned, and he was more than ready to kill her.
With his fingers tightly coiled around her slender neck, she appeared pitifully helpless, like an innocent pig about to be sughtered and he loved it. That was the look he loved the most before he took someone's life.
“W-W-What are-”
“Shut up! I've got you now,” Scotty says before he picks up a heavy, blunt, massive rock with his right hand and hits over and over and over again while still smiling sinisterly.
*SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT* The unsettling sounds echoed through the back garden, piercing the calm morning air. Scotty’s parents, alerted by the frantic screams, rushed outside, hearts pounding with dread. As they entered the garden, their eyes fell upon a chilling scene of Scotty on top of his sister with a rock clutched in his hand. The horror unfolded as they realized his sister y motionless on the ground, her head brutally struck and the surrounding grass stained crimson.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!” The sharp edges of his father's voice cut through the haze of confusion, jolting him from his trance. He lifts his gaze from his sister, only to be met with the harrowing sight of his father, gripping his pistol with trembling hands, rage and despair etched across his face. His mother’s anguished scream echoed in the air, and he felt the weight of horror settle upon him as he noticed her crumpled figure on the floor. Blood painted the scene, and at the center of it all y his sister. Her once-familiar features now grotesquely distorted, unrecognizable, the terrible violence of her end leaving a mark on his mind. “PUT DOWN THE ROCK NOW!!!” His father’s voice boomed with a raw power, anguished fury and his eyes glistening with tears that threatened to spill over.
In that heart-stopping moment, Scotty's sinister smile vanished, repced by a profound sense of despair. He began to tremble uncontrolbly, his hands shaking as warm, crimson tears streamed down his cheeks, staining the ground below. “Now that was a good show,” the girl from the forest remarks as she pulls a wide, unsettling grin stretching across her face, as if she had just witnessed a gruesome spectacle.
