It was the perfect holiday plan, or so we thought.
My name is Emma. My parents, my younger sister Lily, and I had been looking forward to this trip for months. A week in a remote cabin nestled deep in the forest, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. No phones, no distractions—just family time, bonfires, and the serene beauty of nature. The forest, however, had secrets that were anything but serene.
The cabin looked charming, with wooden walls, a stone chimney, and the faint smell of pine. Everything seemed perfect at first. The birds chirped, the trees swayed gently in the wind, and the air smelled fresh, untouched by pollution. Dad was excited to take us hiking, while Mom had already planned evenings by the fireplace, playing board games and roasting marshmallows. But there was something about the forest—an unsettling stillness that clung to the shadows. The deeper we went, the heavier it felt, like the woods were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.
On the second day of our holiday, things began to change. It started with small things: whispers in the wind, rustling leaves when there was no breeze. Then Lily began to see things, or so she claimed.
"I saw a boy," she said casually as we sat by the fire that evening. "He was standing just at the edge of the trees, watching us."
I turned to look, but all I saw were the tall, dark outlines of the pines, their branches swaying in the wind. Dad laughed it off, saying it was probably just her imagination. But Lily wasn't the type to make things up.
The next day, we decided to go on a hike. The forest seemed more ominous with each step we took, as if it were alive, watching us. Every now and then, I thought I caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of my eye—a shadow flitting between the trees, too quick to be human. I dismissed it at first, convincing myself it was nothing more than my imagination. But the air felt thick, heavy with something unseen.
As we walked deeper into the woods, we came across a small, forgotten graveyard. The headstones were ancient, worn down by time and weather. One grave stood out—small and crude, the name barely legible: Jacob. Next to it, a larger grave read Anna. A chill ran down my spine. It felt wrong, like we were intruding on something sacred, something we shouldn't have found.
That night, things took a turn for the worse. Lily woke up screaming, her face pale, drenched in sweat. "He was here," she cried, her voice trembling. "The boy. He wants me to go with him!"
My parents tried to calm her down, brushing it off as a nightmare. But I knew, deep down, that something was very wrong. I had heard whispers too. And I had seen him—just a glimpse in the shadows, but enough to know that Lily wasn't making it up. There was a boy, and he was watching us.
Over the next few days, the sightings became more frequent. He was always lurking, just at the edge of the trees, his figure barely visible in the twilight. The air grew colder, and the forest, once filled with life, felt empty and hollow, like it had been abandoned by everything but the dark.
One evening, as the sun began to set, we gathered around the firepit outside the cabin. The atmosphere was tense, thick with an unspoken fear. That's when it happened.
We heard footsteps—soft, deliberate, circling the cabin. At first, my father tried to convince us it was an animal, but the sound was unmistakably human. Then, out of the darkness, he stepped into the faint glow of the firelight.
A boy, no older than ten or eleven, stood just beyond the fire. His skin was pale, almost translucent, his eyes sunken and hollow. He was drenched, as if he had just climbed out of a river, his clothes torn and covered in mud. But what struck me the most was the look in his eyes—haunting, filled with sorrow and anger.
"Lily," the boy whispered, his voice barely audible, carried by the wind. "Come with me. I'll take care of you."
My sister froze, her eyes wide with terror. I grabbed her hand, pulling her close to me. My father stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"
The boy's gaze shifted to my father, and for a moment, his face twisted into something dark, something filled with fury. "You took her from me," the boy whispered, his voice now cold, filled with venom. "You took my sister."
Before anyone could react, the boy lunged at my father, faster than any of us could comprehend. My dad let out a sharp gasp as the boy's icy hands wrapped around his throat. We all watched, horrified, as my father was lifted off the ground, his face turning pale as the life was being drained from him.
"Stop!" I screamed, but the boy didn't listen. His hollow eyes burned with a fury I couldn't understand, and within moments, my father's body went limp, collapsing to the ground.
"Dad!" I screamed, rushing to his side, but it was too late. He was gone.
The boy turned his gaze to Lily, his expression softening. "You'll be safe with me," he said, his voice filled with sorrow. "I lost my sister… I won't lose you too."
Lily clung to me, trembling, but she didn't say a word. I tried to pull her away, but the boy moved closer, his presence suffocating. "Lily," he whispered, extending his hand toward her. "Come with me."
I stood between them, my heart racing. "She's not your sister," I said, my voice shaking. "Leave her alone."
The boy's face contorted in anger again. "You don't understand," he hissed. "I've been searching for her… for so long." He stepped closer, and I could feel the cold radiating off him. "I lost her in the river. I couldn't save her. I've waited here for her… and now, I've found her."
I realized then who he was—Jacob, the boy from the grave. And Anna—his sister. They had both died here, long ago, and Jacob had been wandering the forest ever since, looking for her. But Anna was gone, and now he wanted Lily.
Jacob reached for Lily again, but before he could touch her, something strange happened. The air around us shifted, and a soft, ethereal glow appeared behind him.
"Jacob." The voice was soft, gentle, like the wind through the trees. We all turned, and there, standing just beyond the firelight, was a girl. She looked just like Jacob, pale and soaked, but her eyes were kind, filled with warmth and sadness.
"Anna?" Jacob whispered, his voice trembling.
The girl nodded, stepping closer. "It's time to let them go, Jacob," she said softly. "You don't need to stay here anymore."
Jacob's face crumpled, his eyes filling with tears. "But… I couldn't save you," he said, his voice breaking. "I couldn't save you."
Anna smiled, a sad, knowing smile. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered. "You've waited long enough. It's time to come with me now."
Jacob hesitated, his gaze flickering between Anna and Lily. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't listen, that he would try to take Lily with him. But then, slowly, he let out a shuddering breath and nodded.
Anna reached out, taking Jacob's hand. As soon as she touched him, the air seemed to lighten, the oppressive darkness lifting. The siblings turned and began to walk away, their figures fading into the night.
Before they disappeared completely, Jacob glanced back at us one last time. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry for what I did."
And then they were gone, swallowed by the forest.
The night was still, the air clear. I looked down at my father's body, tears streaming down my face. He was gone, but Jacob had spared the rest of us.
In the days that followed, we packed up and left the cabin, never to return. The police didn't believe our story—they chalked my father's death up to a tragic accident. But I knew the truth. The forest held secrets, and it would continue to keep them.
Jacob and Anna were gone, but the memory of that night would stay with me forever. The forest might have let us go, but it would never truly let go of the souls it had claimed. And deep down, I knew there were others like Jacob, waiting, searching for something they had lost.
The forest was haunted, and it always would be.