It was a quiet evening when Evan decided to take the shortcut through the woods. The sun had already sunk low behind the hills, but there was still enough light to see the narrow path through the trees. He was tired after a long day, the kind of exhaustion that wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. It was supposed to be a short walk, the woods just on the edge of the town, a shortcut to get him home faster. But something felt wrong from the moment he stepped onto the trail.
The wind whispered between the branches, rustling the leaves like hushed voices, but there was no one around. He told himself it was just the forest settling for the night, but the chill in the air made him uneasy. He had walked these woods hundreds of times. He knew every turn and every knot in the trees. But today felt different, like there was something hiding just out of sight, something waiting.
As he made his way deeper into the woods, the trees grew thicker, their branches twisting above him, blocking out the last of the daylight. The path was narrow now, a faint line of dirt and roots barely visible in the growing darkness. Evan stumbled over a rock and cursed, steadying himself against a tree.
He was almost at the clearing when he saw it.
A shape, out of place. A black, empty shape in the middle of the path, sitting like a dark hole in the earth. The thing that stopped him was its silence. It wasn't moving, not a sound or rustle. It was just there, as if it had always been there. It was large, far too large for a stone or a fallen log, and it didn't belong.
Evan hesitated. Something told him to turn back. But curiosity—no, desperation—drove him forward. It was a trap. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a growing sense that he had walked too far, seen too much.
The shape was an eye. A gigantic, black eye, sitting alone in the middle of the woods. Its surface was slick, glossy, reflecting the dim light of the setting sun. It wasn't just any eye, though. There was something wrong with it. The iris was a deep shade of red, and the sclera—a sickening yellow, not like anything human. But it wasn't the color that disturbed him. It was the size, the sheer unnaturalness of it.
Evan took a step closer, his feet dragging like they had a mind of their own. Something in him screamed to leave, to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The eye was bigger now, like it was staring straight into him, pulling him closer.
He bent down, unable to resist. The cool air around him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It wasn't just the sight of the eye that had him frozen; it was the feeling. There was a presence here, something far worse than the shadows in the trees, something older than the forest itself.
He reached out, his fingers trembling, hovering just inches from the eye.
Then, the wind stopped.
Everything went still, and he heard a voice. It wasn't in his head; it was a whisper in the air, like a breath just behind his ear.
"Don't touch it."
Evan jerked back, heart slamming against his ribs. He spun around, his pulse hammering in his throat, but there was no one. Just the trees, the path, the growing darkness. The voice had come from nowhere, yet it was so close.
His eyes darted to the ground, the eye still there, staring, unblinking. But something else was wrong. The ground around the eye was wet, slick like oil. He could see something writhing underneath, though the movement was subtle, as if something was trying to crawl out.
Without thinking, Evan stepped back again, his breath catching in his throat. Something told him to run. His instincts screamed at him to get the hell out of the woods, but the eye was pulling at him. It was like it wanted him, needed him to stay.
Then, something moved. From the slick blackness of the eye, something began to stretch out. It wasn't a hand, not at first, but the unmistakable shape of a finger, long and thin, crawling from the center of the eye like it was alive.
Evan froze. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey. He couldn't look away, couldn't tear himself from the sight of the finger stretching out, twisting like a serpent.
"Don't look..."
The voice whispered again, but it wasn't the same this time. It was... different. It felt closer, warmer, like it was coming from within the ground itself.
And then, the finger was gone, vanished into the eye.
Evan blinked, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his mind. The woods seemed quieter now, the air heavier, as though something was holding its breath, waiting for him to make a decision.
Then, a horrible thought crossed his mind.
What if it wasn't just the eye he was supposed to avoid?
What if the thing that had been hiding in the woods all this time—watching, waiting—had been looking for its eye?
He spun around. The path behind him seemed longer now, as though the woods had stretched, closing in on him. The darkness pressed against him from all sides. He was trapped, in the middle of a forest that was no longer familiar, surrounded by trees that didn't seem like trees at all.
The voice came again, but this time, it was louder, almost frantic.
"Run."
Evan didn't think. He turned and bolted. His legs moved faster than they ever had before, pushing him through the thick underbrush, past the trees that seemed to close in around him. The branches scraped his skin, the ground beneath his feet uneven and treacherous.
But no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he pushed himself forward, he couldn't escape the feeling that it was behind him. The air grew colder, and he could feel something moving, sliding between the trees, something massive and hungry.
Suddenly, the ground beneath him gave way. He stumbled, falling into the dirt, his hands scraping against the rough earth as he tried to catch himself. He looked up, gasping for breath, and saw it.
A figure.
It was standing just at the edge of the clearing, the figure he had sensed earlier but hadn't seen until now. Tall, unnaturally thin, its body slumped like a puppet without strings. Its head was tilted, and its eyes—one of them missing—stared at him with empty, endless darkness.
The thing was massive, its form twisted, bending in ways that were not human. But it wasn't the grotesque shape of it that horrified Evan the most. It was the fact that it had no eye. The thing—whatever it was—was searching, blindly groping the air for its lost eye.
And it was looking right at him.
The realization hit him like a hammer.
It wasn't just the eye that was cursed. It was the being itself. The eye had been stolen, taken from it. And now, it wanted Evan's. It wanted to take his eyes, to replace the empty socket with one that would finally give it sight again.
Evan tried to get to his feet, to run, but his legs wouldn't obey. His head was spinning, his body betraying him. He could hear the thing moving closer, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs.
And then, the voice whispered again, its words slithering into his mind. "You should've never looked."
The last thing Evan saw before his eyes were taken was the thing's long, clawed fingers reaching toward him. There was no escape now. He could feel the claws digging into his skull, pulling his eyes out, his screams swallowed by the vast, empty woods. The trees whispered around him, but their voices faded, drowned by the sound of his agony.