The road ahead was cracked and littered with broken glass, and rusted scraps of a world long gone. Wind howled through the trees like some ancient spirit still angry it was forgotten. The silence between us grew heavier with every step.
I glanced at him, trying to read the lines on his face. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched, like he was holding something in.
"So, Mark. You really don't remember how you got here?"
"Yes, kid. I'm telling you, the last thing I remember before I came here is that monster's faceless white face."
"At least you're alive… and still got all your limbs!"
"Well, I'll take being alive and limbed over the alternative any day. So... what's your story, kid?"
I took a deep breath. "It's a long story," I told Mark, and then I recounted everything that had happened to me—except the part where I killed those monsters and felt a black smoke enter my body.
As we stepped over a twisted bike frame and the half-buried ribcage of some unlucky thing, Mark glanced sideways at me, his voice low.
"So… where exactly are we headed?"
I scanned the road ahead, watching for movement. "The woods. Near the school."
He frowned. "Why the woods? Thought we were avoiding creepy, possibly haunted areas."
I shrugged, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "There was a letter. At the school. It said: 'Don't follow the lady into the woods.'"
Mark raised an eyebrow. "That's your big clue?"
"It's something," I said. "Whatever left that message… knew something. If they didn't want anyone going in, maybe that's where the truth is."
Mark grunted. "Or maybe that's where the trap is."
I smirked. "Only one way to find out."
He muttered, "Yeah, remind me to stop asking questions," as we crept further into the hush of the overgrown road, the woods looming closer with every step.
After a few tense minutes, the crumbling outline of the school came into view through the trees, its windows like empty eyes watching us approach.
But then, they appeared.
Faceless monsters. Like mannequins brought to life by nightmares. They moved slow, but their heads twitched unnaturally, as if they could hear thoughts, not sounds.
We dropped low behind a rusted-out car, my heart pounding so hard I was sure they'd hear it echo. Mark's breathing was ragged beside me.
We crept around them, inch by inch, ducking behind debris and holding our breath as they passed, until Mark stepped on a glass shard.
Crunch.
One of the things snapped its head toward us.
Mark panicked.
"Dude—no!" I hissed, grabbing his arm as he tried to bolt.
Too late. He was already half-standing, legs twitching like he was ready to sprint to another dimension.
We ducked just in time behind a broken fence as one of the creatures lurched in our direction, then suddenly veered off—drawn away by some distant, echoing sound. A lucky break.
Once it was clear, I turned to Mark, glaring.
"You almost got us killed, man!"
"I panicked, okay?" he whispered, eyes wide. "Those things have no faces. That's not normal!"
"No kidding," I muttered, helping him up. "Next time, maybe don't advertise our location with a panic attack."
He groaned. "I miss regular monsters. You know, the kind you can punch."
We pushed on, the school looming larger ahead, and the woods behind it waiting like a secret holding its breath.
Mark suddenly grabbed my hand, his grip tight and trembling.
"Give me the knife," he said, voice strained. "You're just a kid."
I could feel the fear radiating off him like heat. His eyes darted to the shadows, jaw clenched, body tense like a wire about to snap.
"Sorry," I said, pulling my hand back. "This is my weapon. So… no."
He stared at me for a moment, like he couldn't believe I said it.
Then he sighed, letting go. "Great. I'm depending on a kid with a knife."
I gave him a half-smile. "Better than depending on a guy who tries to run every time something creepy shows up."
He muttered something about retirement and therapy as we continued toward the school, the trees whispering secrets behind us.
We stepped into the woods, the air thick with damp earth and silence. The canopy above swallowed what little light remained, casting the forest floor in shadows.
Mark moved slowly, one hand outstretched, squinting into the dark.
Unlike him, I could see just fine. Every branch, every leaf, every shifting shadow—it was all clear to me. But I didn't say anything.
I didn't tell him I could see in the dark.
Didn't mention the strength pulsing quietly beneath my skin.
Didn't mention the smoke. Or what it did to me.
Not because I wanted to lie…
But because I didn't trust him.
Not yet.
I remembered the way he grabbed my hand earlier, too fast, too desperate. The look in his eyes when he demanded the knife. Not survival instinct. Not logic. Fear.
And fear makes people dangerous.
He stumbled on a root and cursed under his breath.
"You good?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"I can't see a damn thing," he muttered. "Feels like something's watching us."
I just nodded, keeping my steps light and ears sharp.
Because something was watching us.
And I wasn't sure if it was coming from outside the woods… or inside me.
Mark suddenly stopped and muttered, "I gotta piss."
I blinked. "Are you serious, dude?"
He gave me a look. "Don't say that. I gotta go, okay?"
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Fine. Just… make it quick and don't wander off. I don't feel like fighting monsters with my pants down too."
Mark slipped behind a tree, muttering something about privacy and leaves not being toilet paper. I stayed where I was, knife in hand, eyes scanning the woods.
A few minutes passed.
"Mark?" I called out. "You done?"
Silence.
My grip tightened. "Answer me, man."
Nothing.
The air felt heavier now, like the forest was holding its breath. I took a cautious step forward, then another, weaving between the trees until I reached the spot he'd disappeared behind.
But there was no Mark.
No footprints. No sound. No anything.
Just empty woods… and a growing chill crawling up my spine.
I darted through the trees, heart hammering, calling his name louder now. Every shadow looked like it could swallow me whole, every rustle made my skin crawl.
And then—I saw him.
Mark.
He was standing in a small clearing, bathed in pale moonlight. And next to him... her.
The woman in the wedding dress.
The same one I saw back at the school. The same one the letter warned me about.
Her dress floated around her like mist, untouched by the ground. Her face was soft, too soft—like a doll left in the rain. Her eyes didn't blink.
"MARK!" I shouted, stumbling forward. "DON'T GO NEAR HER!"
He turned to me slowly, and for a second, I thought he heard me, really heard me. But then he smirked.
"Don't worry," he said with a lazy shrug, "I'm just gonna have a little fun."
Before I could move, before I could yell again, he turned back to her.
And kissed her.
The moment their lips touched, the air crackled.
And in the blink of an eye, they vanished.
Gone.
The clearing was empty. Just cold wind and dead leaves.
"Damn it, that lust-hungry idiot," I muttered under my breath, fists clenched tight.