Me and my buddy Jake always hung out at Miller’s Park, a quiet spot with a walking trail and a thick forest called Hollow Woods right beside it. No one really went through those woods, not since the stories started. People said if you walked too deep, you’d never come out the same.
That night, Jake suddenly had to use the bathroom, and the fastest way back home was through the woods. We’d never dared before, but it was late, and we didn’t want to take the long way. So, against every instinct, we stepped in.
The deeper we went, the darker it got. The trees seemed to close in around us. Our footsteps crunched on the dry leaves, but then—there was another sound. A rustling behind us. We stopped. Listened. Nothing. Probably the wind, I told myself.
Then—snap! A twig breaking. Too close.
I spun around, scanning the trees, my heart hammering. Jake was right beside me. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
Before I could answer, I blinked—and Jake was gone.
I froze. The silence was deafening. My chest tightened. I turned in circles, calling his name, but the only thing answering me was the wind. Then, I felt it—something icy brushing past me. Not the wind. It was… something else.
I turned—and there was Jake, standing still, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. His mouth opened, but no words came out. My blood ran cold.
Then I saw it.
Behind him, half-hidden by the trees, was a figure. A shadowy shape, its face stretched into something not quite human. Eyes hollow, black as the night. It didn’t move, but I felt it watching.
Jake suddenly snapped out of his trance, grabbed my arm, and we ran. We ran like our lives depended on it.
When we burst out of the woods, gasping for air, we dared one last look back. Nothing. Just darkness.
We never spoke about it again. But we never, ever walked through Hollow Woods again.
Because something is in there. And it’s still watching.