The sky was already sinking into dusk as the car sped down the highway, tall trees pressing in on both sides like silent spectators.
The deep forest swallowed the road whole, branches tangling overhead as if trying to block out the last traces of daylight.
It was 6:30 p.m.
The orange glow of the sun flickered through the leaves in broken patterns, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to reach for the tires.
Louise sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the window, watching the trees blur past into a continuous wall of dark green and grey.
The ride was noisy—in a good way.
Laughter filled the car, blending with the steady hum of the engine and the music playing softly from the speakers, creating a cocoon of warmth against the encroaching cold of the woods.
"Are we there yet?" Jacob asked from the back, leaning forward between the seats, his face lit by the glowing dashboard.
"Relax," Dion replied with a grin, his hands steady and relaxed on the steering wheel. "Another hour, maybe less if this road doesn't twist us around."
Lisa laughed, shaking her head. "You said that twenty minutes ago. At this rate, we'll be pitching tents by flashlight."
Celine nudged her playfully, her eyes bright with the thrill of the trip. "Stop complaining. This is supposed to be fun, remember? Campfires, stories, no school. Just us and the great outdoors."
Louise smiled faintly, glancing at Dion's profile. Everyone seemed lighter tonight—voices louder, smiles wider.
There was excitement buzzing in the air, the kind of infectious energy that made even the long, monotonous drive feel like part of the adventure.
Out of habit, Louise reached for his phone to check their progress, but he frowned at the display.
"No signal," Louise said, tilting the screen toward the center console to see if a different angle would catch a stray tower. "Anyone else?"
Jacob pulled his phone out, waving it in the air. "Same here. Zero bars. We're officially off the map."
Lisa groaned, leaning her head against the cold glass. "Great. If we get lost, we're doomed. No GPS, no Google, just Dion's questionable sense of direction."
Dion chuckled, completely unfazed. "Come on. When was the last time you trusted a signal in the middle of a forest? We don't need towers where we're going."
Louise leaned back into his seat, trying to shrug off the tiny knot of unease creeping into his chest.
'It's normal,' he told himself, watching the needle of the speedometer flicker. 'We're just deep in the woods. This is what we wanted, right? To get away?'
Still, the silence outside the car felt heavier than it should have been.
The music inside was loud, yet it couldn't quite mask the absolute stillness beyond the glass.
No passing vehicles had gone by for miles.
No distant lights of a gas station or a farmhouse broke the gloom.
Just trees.
Endless, suffocating trees that seemed to grow taller as the light failed.
The laughter continued, the music switched to a louder, more rhythmic song, and for a moment, Louise let himself relax into the seat.
The road stretched forward, dark and narrow, guiding them deeper into the heart of the forest—toward the campsite they'd been talking about for weeks.
Unnoticed by the others, Louise's reflection stared back at him from the window.
As the car plunged into a particularly thick patch of overhanging branches, his smile slowly faded.
In the glass, his own eyes looked distant and hollow, his expression mirroring the sudden, absolute darkness as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the trees.
The ride grew louder as the minutes dragged on.
The cabin air thick with the smell of old upholstery and the restless energy of five people confined in a small space.
Jacob shifted restlessly in the back seat, tapping his foot against the floor with a rhythmic, impatient thud. "If we don't get there in the next ten minutes, I'm climbing out and walking."
Lisa scoffed, not looking away from the dark window. "Please. You'd trip over a stick and cry."
"Hey!" Jacob shot back, pointing a finger at her. "At least I won't scream at every bug like someone I know."
Celine laughed, leaning closer to Lisa and nudging her shoulder. "He's not wrong. Remember the spider incident in the gym locker? You practically tried to scale the wall."
"That spider was the size of my hand!" Lisa protested, her voice rising in a mock-offense that masked a genuine shiver.
Dion shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he kept them fixed on the road. "You're all impossible. Just a little more patience."
Louise listened quietly, the teasing washing over him like background noise.
The energy in the car was still light, playful—but impatience buzzed beneath it, subtle and growing like a low-frequency hum.
He glanced out the window again.
The forest had thickened significantly; the trees no longer looked like individual plants but a solid, impenetrable wall.
Shadows piled on top of one another as night finally took full possession of the woods.
'Why does it feel like we've been driving in circles?' he wondered, his brow furrowing. 'The trees look the same. Every bend feels like the one we just turned.'
Just as the thought settled into a cold knot in his stomach, Dion slowed the car.
"There," Dion said, his voice dropping an octave as he pointed ahead. "That should be it."
The high beams cut through the encroaching darkness, revealing a wooden sign half-swallowed by thick, choking vines.
The paint was peeled, the letters nearly illegible, but the arrow pointed clearly enough.
The road curved sharply off the highway, narrowing into a clearing that felt like a secret carved out of the earth.
As the car rolled forward over the uneven ground, the trees finally opened up.
They had arrived at the campsite.
Louise sat up straighter, his chest tightening as the headlights swept across a wide patch of land—empty, quiet, and surrounded by a ring of towering trees that felt more like a cage than a border.
At the far edge of the clearing stood the cabin.
It was a two-story structure of dark, weathered wood that rose like a watchful figure against the starlight.
Its windows reflected the car's lights, glassy and still, like the unblinking eyes of a predator.
"Whoa…" Celine breathed, her face pressed near the glass. "It's bigger than I thought."
Lisa leaned forward eagerly, her earlier annoyance forgotten. "That's the cabin? We actually rented that? It looks like something out of a movie."
"Two floors, baby," Jacob said, already unbuckling his seatbelt with a click that sounded abnormally loud in the cabin.
"Called dibs on the best room. The one with the balcony is mine."
Dion parked the car and turned off the engine.
The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating, pressing against Louise's ears like a physical weight.
The hum of the heater and the vibration of the tires were gone, replaced by the sharp, rhythmic chirp of crickets somewhere in the distance.
Louise stared at the cabin, an odd chill crawling up his spine despite the warmth of the car.
'It looks… older than the pictures,' he thought, his eyes tracing the jagged line of the roof. 'Darker. Like the wood has been soaking in the shadows for a hundred years.'
The excitement in the others spilled out as the doors swung open.
Laughter followed them into the night air, their voices echoing off the timber walls of the house.
But Louise lingered for a moment longer in his seat, his hand hovering over the door handle.
The cabin stood motionless before them, an island of rot in a sea of pines—waiting.
He stepped out of the car, the cool, biting air brushing against his skin.
For reasons he couldn't explain, a heavy sense of finality washed over him.
He felt as though crossing the threshold into the campsite meant leaving the rest of the world behind, and the forest was already beginning to close the path they had taken to get here.
The tension Louise had felt earlier slowly faded as the group gathered their bags and headed inside the cabin.
The door creaked open, revealing a warm, surprisingly cozy interior. Soft yellow lights flickered on as Dion found the switch, chasing away the darkness that had clung to the corners.
"Okay," Dion announced, dropping his bag near the entrance. "Room choosing time."
"Finally!" Jacob said, already bouncing on his heels. "I'm not sleeping anywhere near the kitchen again."
Lisa laughed. "You say that like something attacked you last time."
"It did," Jacob replied dramatically. "A rat. Emotionally."
Celine snorted while Louise shook his head, a small smile forming before he realized it. The familiar chaos felt comforting.
They explored the cabin together.
Downstairs held three bedrooms, all lined up near the kitchen and the sala, each one neat and well-furnished.
Louise peeked into one of them, noting the attached bathroom.
"Wait," he said. "Every room has its own CR?"
"Luxury camping," Lisa said proudly. "I told you this place was worth it."
Upstairs, the cabin opened into two larger rooms, both connected to a shared terrace that overlooked the forest.
The wooden railing creaked slightly when Jacob leaned on it.
"Upstairs is mine," Jacob declared immediately.
"Excuse you," Celine replied, crossing her arms. "We haven't decided yet."
Dion raised his hands. "Alright, alright. How about this—Lisa and Celine take one upstairs room, Jacob and I take the other. Louise can choose whichever he wants."
Louise paused, surprised. He glanced at the others, all eyes on him, smiling and waiting.
'Why am I overthinking this?' he thought. 'I've just been stressed. Too much studying, too many sleepless nights.'
"I'll take one of the rooms downstairs," Louise said finally. "Closer to the kitchen."
The earlier unease seemed distant now, buried under the sound of laughter and the rustle of bags being unpacked.
Louise exhaled, realizing his shoulders had been tense the entire drive.
'Get it together,' he thought. 'You're just stressed. Exams, deadlines… that's all this is.'
Dion set up snacks on the low table in the sala while Lisa and Celine argued over who brought too many instant noodles.
"You can never have too many," Lisa insisted.
"You say that now," Celine replied, laughing, "but you won't even finish half of it."
Jacob flopped onto one of the couches. "I call dibs on the terrace later. Midnight air hits different."
Louise smiled, feeling himself ease into the moment.
The cabin felt warmer with everyone inside—alive, filled with noise and movement.
Even the forest outside seemed less intimidating, reduced to a dark backdrop behind the windows.
He glanced toward the stairs briefly, then back to his friends.
'See? Nothing's wrong,' he told himself. 'Just a trip. Just friends. Just a camp.'
Someone turned the music on, and soon the room filled with chatter, teasing, and plans for the night—bonfires, stories, and who would probably fall asleep first.
Louise laughed along with them, finally letting go of the lingering thoughts that had followed him since the highway.
For now, he chose to stay in the warmth of the moment, surrounded by familiar voices and easy smiles.
***
Outside, the forest did not move.
It was a stagnant ocean of timber and needles, frozen in the absolute stillness of the mountain air.
The cabin glowed softly, its windows breathing warm, amber light into the encroaching darkness while laughter leaked through the gaps in the weathered logs.
Inside, the heavy thud of footsteps passed from room to room.
Voices overlapped in a chaotic, joyful symphony—unaware of the vacuum of sound that existed just beyond the porch.
Far beyond the reach of the artificial light, a man stood where no path should have been.
He was positioned in the deep gloom between two skeletal oaks, draped in shadows that seemed to cling to his frame like oil. He didn't shift his weight.
He didn't breathe.
He simply existed there, a jagged silhouette against the darkness.
His smile was wrong.
The corners of his mouth were torn too wide, stretched upward until the skin at his cheeks puckered and split, as if his face had been pulled apart by invisible hands.
His lips trembled, the muscles beneath the surface struggling to hold the unnatural shape, yet they never fell.
The smile did not belong to joy—it was a hollow mimicry, a grotesque approximation of a grin belonging to something practicing how to look human.
His eyes were open too long.
They were unblinking and wet, wide circles of pale white reflecting the distant cabin like prey caught in glass.
There was no recognition in them, only a fixed, predatory focus that didn't waver when a branch snapped nearby.
A slow sound escaped his throat—not a laugh, not a breath—something wet and rattling in between, swallowed by the dense canopy of the trees before it could travel far.
He leaned forward slightly, his neck extending with an audible, fibrous creak, as though he were listening to their heartbeats through the very walls of the house.
Inside the cabin, the heavy thump of a dropped bag echoed, followed by Jacob's muffled curse and a round of renewed laughter from the girls.
The man's smile stretched further, the skin at the edges of his mouth tearing just a fraction more.
A single bead of dark fluid escaped the wound, but his expression remained a rigid mask of ecstatic malice.
Bones shifted softly beneath his skin—a dull, grinding sound of joints sliding out of place to accommodate his posture.
And then, without a sound, he stepped backward into the forest.
He didn't turn around; he simply recessed into the void, his movements fluid and oily.
His face was the last thing to vanish—the pale, horrific arc of that grin remaining visible, still smiling long after the darkness should have swallowed it whole.