Jackson woke with a jolt, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The last thing he remembered was stepping into the foggy woods with the others, the oppressive darkness pressing down on them as they tried to escape the nightmare that had overtaken the cabin. But now, he was alone. The silence was thick, and he lay on the cold, damp ground, the smell of earth and rotting leaves filling his nostrils.
For a moment, he couldn't move. His body was stiff, and his mind clouded with confusion and fear. He blinked, trying to focus, but the world around him was a blur of shadow and mist. Slowly, he sat up, his head pounding and his chest tight with panic. His heart raced as he looked around, trying to make sense of where he was.
The forest loomed around him, more twisted and sinister than before. The trees were taller, their branches gnarled and black, stretching out like claws ready to snatch him. The mist was thicker here, swirling in unnatural patterns that seemed to beckon him deeper into the woods. It was as if the very air was alive, whispering dark secrets in a language he couldn't understand.
He called out, but his voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence. "Claire? Sarah? Anyone?" His voice cracked, the desperation evident in every syllable, but there was no response—only the echo of his own voice bouncing back at him through the trees.
Fear gripped him, cold and relentless. He was alone. Again. Just like before.
Jackson's breath hitched as memories flooded back, memories he had buried deep inside, hoping never to relive them. He had promised himself that he would never let the past control him, but here, in this twisted forest, the walls he had built around those memories began to crumble.
He had been here before—not in these woods, but in this state of helplessness and isolation. It had been years since that day, but the pain was as fresh now as it had been then. His hands trembled, and he pressed them against his face, trying to steady himself.
He had always been good at putting up a front. Strong, dependable Jackson—the one who had everything together. But beneath that exterior was a mess of fear and trauma, a past he couldn't escape, no matter how hard he tried.
It had started when he was 12. His family had been on a camping trip, deep in the Appalachian Mountains. His father loved the outdoors, loved the quiet solitude of the wilderness. It had been his way of escaping the stresses of life. Jackson had admired him for that. His dad was a strong man—unflappable, dependable. But that trip had been different.
It was supposed to be an ordinary weekend—a few days away from the city, surrounded by nature. But by the end of the trip, nothing in Jackson's life would ever be ordinary again.
Jackson could still remember the smell of the campfire, the way the pine needles crunched underfoot as he and his father walked through the woods. They had hiked for hours, just the two of them, talking about everything and nothing. It had been a perfect day.
But then, as dusk settled over the forest, his father had heard something—something neither of them could explain. A sound, faint at first, like a distant cry. They had brushed it off as an animal, but the sound grew louder, closer, until it was unmistakable.
It was a scream.
Jackson's father had told him to stay put while he investigated. Jackson had protested, but his father had insisted. He'd watched his father disappear into the trees, his heart hammering in his chest as the screams echoed through the forest. Minutes passed, then hours. Jackson called out, but there was no answer.
His father never came back.
They had searched for days, bringing in park rangers and search teams. But they never found a trace of him. No body, no signs of struggle—nothing. It was as if he had simply vanished into the woods. Jackson's mother had been devastated, but Jackson… Jackson had been angry. He had blamed himself for not going with his father, for not doing more to find him. That anger had eaten away at him for years, turning into guilt and then into a deep, abiding fear that he could never shake.
The woods had taken his father, and now, it felt like they were coming for him too.
Jackson swallowed hard, his throat tight as the memories overwhelmed him. He had spent years trying to forget that day, trying to bury the pain deep inside. But now, in this twisted forest, it all came rushing back.
He clenched his fists, trying to push the memories away, but the forest seemed to feed off his fear, the whispers growing louder in his mind. They weren't just random noises—they were voices. Familiar voices. His father's voice.
"Jackson… Jackson…"
He froze, his blood running cold. It was impossible. His father was dead. He had to be. But the voice… it sounded so real, so close.
"Jackson, come find me."
The voice echoed through the trees, pulling him deeper into the forest. He knew it wasn't real—knew it had to be some kind of trick—but he couldn't stop himself. He stumbled to his feet, his legs weak and trembling as he followed the voice, his mind screaming at him to turn back, to run, but his heart refusing to listen.
"Dad?" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "Dad, is that you?"
The forest seemed to close in around him as he moved, the mist thickening until he could barely see a few feet in front of him. The trees loomed like dark sentinels, their twisted branches reaching out as if to pull him in. The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, as if the very earth was shifting beneath him, trying to swallow him whole.
"Jackson…"
The voice was louder now, more insistent. It sounded like it was coming from just ahead, beyond a thick cluster of trees. His heart pounded in his chest as he pushed through the undergrowth, the branches scratching at his skin, the cold air biting at his face.
And then he saw it—a figure standing just ahead, shrouded in mist. It was tall, broad-shouldered, with the same familiar stance as his father. Jackson's breath caught in his throat as he stumbled forward, his heart pounding in his ears.
"Dad?" His voice trembled, his legs shaking as he moved closer.
The figure didn't move, didn't speak. It just stood there, watching him with cold, dark eyes.
"Dad, please…" Jackson's voice cracked, the desperation in his words painfully obvious. He had spent years searching for closure, for answers, and now, here in this twisted, nightmarish forest, it felt like he was finally on the verge of finding them.
But as he stepped closer, something shifted. The figure's face twisted, its eyes glowing with a sickly, unnatural light. Its mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth.
Jackson's blood turned to ice as he realized the truth. This wasn't his father.
The figure lunged at him with inhuman speed, its grotesque mouth opening wide as it let out a bone-chilling scream. Jackson stumbled back, his heart racing as he scrambled to get away, his mind screaming in terror.
The forest seemed to come alive around him, the trees closing in, their branches twisting and writhing like snakes. The ground shifted beneath him, pulling him down as if the earth itself was trying to swallow him.
He ran, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his legs burning with exhaustion. The whispers grew louder, the shadows closing in, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. The forest was alive, and it was hunting him.
Finally, he broke through the trees, stumbling into a small clearing. He collapsed to the ground, his body shaking with terror and exhaustion. The air was cold, the mist swirling around him like ghostly fingers.
He looked back, expecting to see the creature still chasing him, but the forest was silent. The shadows had receded, and the eerie glow had faded. But Jackson knew it wasn't over. The forest wasn't done with him yet.
As he lay there, trying to catch his breath, he couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he slowly turned his head, his eyes scanning the darkness.
And then he saw it—just beyond the edge of the clearing, standing in the shadows, was another figure. Taller, thinner, its eyes glowing with a cold, malevolent light.
It didn't move, didn't speak. It just watched him, its gaze piercing through the darkness.
Jackson's heart raced as he slowly got to his feet, his body trembling with fear. He didn't know what this place was, or what had brought him here, but one thing was clear: the forest had taken his father, and now, it was coming for him too.
With one last glance at the figure in the shadows, Jackson turned and ran into the forest, the whispers following him as the trees closed in once more.