"I don’t know why everyone abandoned this place."

Elias stretched his arms, taking in the quiet village. Empty houses, untouched fields, a fresh well—everything they needed, waiting for them.

"Maybe they were just fools," Lillian muttered, arms crossed. "Or maybe they knew something we don’t."

Maren shot her a look. "Don’t start. We’ve been here weeks, and nothing’s happened." She smiled at their children, who were playing near the old houses. "We finally have a home, Lillian."

Lillian sighed. "Yeah. Let’s just hope it stays that way."

That night, Maren woke to whispers.

Faint. Slithering through the walls.

She turned to Elias. He was still asleep.

Then she heard it again—soft, distant. A voice calling their son’s name.

She shot up. "Elias—do you hear that?"

He groaned. "Hear what?"

The voices. But when she listened again, the house was silent.

Maybe it was just the wind.

The next day,her youngest child came up to her.

"Mama, I saw someone last night."

Maren nearly dropped the bowl she was washing. "What do you mean?"

Her daughter, Anna, kicked at the dirt. "By the trees. A man. He was… tall. But I couldn’t see his face."

"Sweetheart, no one lives here but us."

"Then why did he call my name?"

Maren’s heart skipped a beat.

She forced a smile. "It was just a dream, love."

But when she glanced at Lillian, her sister’s face said it all. She had heard something too.She walked up to Elias.

"Elias, something is wrong."

He was sharpening a blade by the fire, his jaw tight. "You’re letting the isolation get to you."

Maren grabbed his arm. "The garden’s rotting, Elias. The well water’s bitter. And the children…" She lowered her voice. "They keep talking to someone."

Lillian spoke up. "We should leave."

Elias shook his head. "We have nowhere to go. We’ll be fine."

They weren’t.The next morning, their oldest was gone.

No footprints. No sound in the night.

They searched everywhere. Then, at dusk, Anna screamed.

Her older brother was outside not answering the family's call to him.

He was standing in the center of the village, staring at them. His eyes were hollow. His mouth open in a silent scream.

Maren ran to him, shaking his shoulders. "Baby? Can you hear me?"

His body collapsed in her hands.

There was nothing inside. No bones. No blood. Just an empty shell.

Elias staggered back. "God… What is this?"

No one answered.

"We have to go. Now."

Lillian was already packing. Anna clung to her mother, too afraid to speak.

"Elias!" Maren screamed.

Her husband just stood in the doorway, staring out at the night.

"They took him," he whispered.

"Who?"

"Our son."

He turned, and for the first time, Maren saw pure terror in his eyes.

"They’re coming back for more."

That night, Anna walked out the door on her own.

"Baby, no!" Maren chased after her, but the girl didn’t even flinch. She stepped into the dark, smiling at something they couldn’t see.

Then she was gone.

Gone.

Elias broke. He raged, screamed into the night, swearing to fight whatever was doing this.

Then, just before dawn, Maren found him standing in the road.

His shadow moved differently—too slow, stretching the wrong way.

"Elias?"

He didn’t turn.

She touched his shoulder.His body collapsed into dust.

Lillian gagged, staggering back. "Oh my God—what is happening?"

The shadows around them shifted, twisting like they were alive.

Maren took her sister’s hand. "We’re leaving."

But no matter which road they took, they always ended up back at the village.

They ran until their legs gave out. Until Lillian started whispering to herself, clawing at her skin.

"They’re in my head," she sobbed.

That night, Maren woke up alone.Lillian’s footprints led into the dark.

She never came back.

Maren was the last.

Sitting in the dirt, she listened to the voices tell her the truth.

The village was never abandoned.

It was waiting.

And now, it was awake.

The shadows moved closer.

The last thing she heard was her children’s voices, calling her name.

"I swear, you detectives love digging up dead things."

Aaron Graves ignored the bartender’s remark, focusing on the whiskey in his glass. The bar was dimly lit, half-empty, the kind of place where people forgot things on purpose.

"This isn’t about dead things," he muttered.

"No?" The bartender leaned in, amused. "Then what’s got a big-shot detective like you chasing ghost stories?"

Aaron exhaled, rubbing his temples. How did he even explain it?

A week ago, he would’ve said the Holloway case was just another cold case—another family lost to tragedy, not superstition. But then the reports started piling up. People seeing things. Hearing whispers. Another disappearance, almost identical to the Holloways.

And then… there was the survivor.

A girl, barely conscious, found wandering the woods near the Holloway site, muttering about shadows and something watching her. She died in the hospital before she could say more.

Aaron wasn’t a believer. But something about this case felt wrong.

His phone buzzed. Sarah Holt.

He picked up. "Tell me you have something."

"I have something," she said. "And you're not gonna like it."

"Try me."

"The girl we found?" Sarah hesitated. "She wasn’t alone."

Aaron straightened. "What do you mean?"

"Security footage caught her running out of the woods. But before that?"

A long pause.

"There was someone behind her, Aaron."

Aaron’s grip tightened on the glass. "Who?"

Sarah's voice dropped. "I don’t know. The footage cut out before we could see. Like something—"

Static crackled through the phone.

"Sarah?"

Silence.

Then, through the receiver, a faint whisper.

"...they see you now."The call dropped.

Aaron's blood went cold.

Something was very, very wrong.

Aaron stared at his phone screen. Call Failed.

His stomach twisted. Sarah wasn’t the type to joke around, and that whisper at the end… it hadn’t been her voice.

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he tossed some cash on the counter and grabbed his jacket.

"Leaving already?" the bartender called after him.

Aaron didn’t answer.

The drive back to the precinct was a blur of city lights and radio static. The moment he stepped into the station, he made a beeline for Sarah’s desk.

She wasn’t there.

"Holt?" he called out, scanning the room.

No answer.

"Hey, you seen Holt?" he asked a passing officer.

"She left an hour ago," the guy shrugged. "Said she had something urgent to check out."

Aaron’s jaw tightened. Damn it, Sarah.

He rushed to his desk, pulled up her GPS location, and his stomach dropped.

She was headed straight for the Holloway village.

The Road to Nowhere

Sarah’s car sat abandoned on the side of the highway, hazard lights blinking in the dark.

Aaron pulled up behind it, gripping the wheel.

The road ahead was empty—just a stretch of cracked asphalt leading into the fog-covered forest. No signs of struggle. No sign of Sarah.

He stepped out, scanning the tree line. Nothing but silence.

That’s when he noticed her phone lying in the dirt.

He picked it up, and the screen lit up with a single unsent message.

"Aaron. I think something is out here."

A shiver ran down his spine.

Then, from the darkness ahead, came a whisper.

"Aaron..."

His breath hitched.It sounded like Sarah.

But something was wrong with the voice. Too hollow. Too distant.

And it was coming from the trees.

Aaron’s fingers hovered over his phone. Call Sarah back. Call for backup. Get the hell out of here.

His instincts screamed the last one. But Sarah was out there—alone.

He dialed dispatch. The phone barely rang before static crackled in his ear.

"Nghh—Graves?" The voice cut in and out.

"Yeah, I need a unit at—"

More static. Then a sharp screech, like nails on metal.

"Repeat that, Graves—"

The line went dead.

Aaron checked his phone. No signal.

He swore under his breath. That wasn’t normal. The highway wasn’t remote enough for a blackout, and Sarah had full bars when he picked up her phone.

Something wasn’t right.

A branch snapped in the trees ahead.

Aaron’s pulse kicked up. His hand hovered over his holster.

"Sarah?" he called.

No answer.

He took a slow step forward, listening. The woods were too quiet. No wind. No crickets. Just… nothing.

Then—

A whisper.

"Aaron..."

His stomach turned to ice.

The voice came from the trees. But it wasn’t Sarah.

It was too hollow. Too distant. Like someone trying to remember how to sound human.

And it was getting closer.

Aaron backed toward his car. Instinct over duty. He could come back with backup.

Then he heard it.

"Help me."Sarah’s voice.

Deep in the trees.

Everything in him screamed trap.But if there was even a chance she was alive…

Aaron drew his gun, took a breath, and stepped into the woods.The forest swallowed him whole.

Aaron moved carefully, his gun steady in his grip. His breath came slow, controlled, but his pulse was a drum in his ears. Sarah was close.

The dirt path crunched under his boots as he scanned the ground. Then—

Something small, half-buried in the leaves.

He crouched and picked it up.

Sarah’s badge.

A fresh wave of dread settled in his gut. She would never leave this behind.

A few feet away, something else. Her flashlight, still on.

The beam pointed deeper into the woods.

Like a trail.

Aaron followed.

The deeper he went, the thicker the air became—heavy, wrong. Like the forest was pressing in, listening.

Then he saw her.

Sarah stood ahead, completely still.She was facing something in the distance;her back to him.If he remembers vividly ,a little more trip up ahead is the restricted village.

"Sarah?"

No reaction.

Aaron took a cautious step closer.

"Holt?"

Still nothing.

She wasn’t even twitching.

He swallowed hard, scanning the trees. No sign of anyone else. What the hell was she looking at?

He moved closer. Close enough to see her shoulders rising and falling. She was breathing, but… it was shallow. Unnatural.

"Sarah."

No response.His gut twisted.

He reached out—

And tapped her shoulder.

Sarah gasped sharply and stumbled back, eyes wide and unfocused, as if waking from a nightmare.

"Aaron?" Her voice was hoarse. Confused.

Aaron steadied her. "Yeah, it's me. What the hell are you doing out here?"

Her breath hitched. She looked past him.

"We have to go."

Aaron frowned. "What were you looking at?"

Sarah shook her head violently.

"Aaron… we have to go now."

A chill crawled down his spine.

Because for the first time in their years of working together, he saw something in her eyes he had never seen before.

Terror.

Back at the precinct, the hum of office chatter and ringing phones should have felt normal. Safe.

But Aaron and Sarah sat in silence, the weight of what she had seen pressing down on them.

Sarah rubbed her temples. "I don’t know what happened out there, Aaron. One second, I was following something, and the next… it’s like my mind wasn’t my own."

Aaron leaned forward. "What were you looking at?"

She swallowed hard. "I don’t remember."

Aaron frowned. "Come on, Holt. You just stood there, staring at something for—"

"I said I don’t remember!" she snapped, not wanting to alert the other officers,she exhaled, shaking her head. "It’s like… I was there, but not there. Like something was holding me in place."

Aaron didn’t like that answer. Didn’t like that at all.

A voice cut in.

"Well, well, look who made it back from the spook woods."

Detective Tom Rawlings, a smug grin on his face, leaned against Sarah’s desk.

Aaron sighed. "Not now, Rawlings."

"Oh, come on, Graves. Holt here runs off into the woods in the middle of the night, you go after her, and now you both look like you’ve seen a ghost?" He smirked. "Let me guess. Bigfoot? A cult? Maybe just a couple of hillbillies messing with you?"

Sarah crossed her arms. "We’re serious, Tom."

"Yeah? What exactly are you serious about? A creepy shadow? A bad feeling? That’s called ‘being in the woods at night,’ Holt." He chuckled. "You two need a vacation."

Laughter rippled through the room.

Aaron clenched his jaw. He knew it—no one was going to believe it anyways.

Sarah glared. "This isn't a joke, Rawlings."

"Then what is it?" he challenged. "Because all I see are two detectives expressing their fears"

Sarah opened her mouth, then stopped.

Because… what could they say?

They had no proof. No footage. No explanation.

Just a shadow in the trees and a feeling of being watched by something they couldn’t understand.

Aaron met her eyes, his expression grim.

Whatever she saw, he would help uncover it.

************************************************************************

Sarah locked the door behind her and exhaled. Finally home.

The precinct had been unbearable. The laughter. The dismissive smirks.

But Aaron had believed her. That was enough.

She dropped her bag on the couch and kicked off her boots. Her apartment was quiet, the way she liked it. Just the distant hum of the city outside her window.

But something felt… off.

She hesitated. The air inside her apartment felt heavier than usual.

Like the weight from the woods had followed her home.

Shaking the thought off, she walked to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and leaned against the counter.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Aaron.

"You good?"

She smirked and typed back:

"Just tired. You?"

A pause. Then:

"Same. But Sarah… don’t ignore this. Something’s wrong."

Her fingers hovered over the screen. She wanted to tell him they were overthinking. That they’d just been spooked.

But she couldn’t.

Because deep down, she knew.

Later that night, Sarah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

Her mind kept drifting back to the woods. The whisper. The way she had stood there, trapped, staring at…

She still couldn’t remember.

She sighed, rolling onto her side. Just sleep. Forget it.

The apartment was silent. Still.

Then—A soft creak.

Sarah’s eyes snapped open.

It came from the living room.

Her breath caught. She reached for the gun under her pillow, gripping it tight. Probably just the building settling.

But then—Another creak.

Closer.

Sarah sat up slowly, her heart pounding.

Her apartment was empty. Locked. No one should be here.

The silence stretched.

Then—

A whisper.

"Sarah..."

Her blood ran cold.

It came from the hallway.

Right outside her bedroom door.

Sarah’s fingers tightened around the gun.

She stared at the dark gap beneath her bedroom door. No movement. No shadows.

Just silence.

But she knew what she heard.

Her name. Whispered.

Her phone was on the nightstand. She could call Aaron. But what would she say? That her apartment was making noises? That the weight from the woods was still here, pressing against her walls?

No. She wasn’t losing her mind.

Taking a slow, steady breath, Sarah slid out of bed.

Each step was controlled, calculated. The wooden floor was cool beneath her feet.She reached the door and pressed her ear against it.

Silence.

Then—

A soft breath.

Right on the other side.

Sarah’s heart stopped.

She threw the door open, gun raised—

Nothing.

The hallway was empty.No footsteps. No open windows. No one.

She swallowed hard. Check the apartment.

Moving carefully, she swept the rooms—living room, kitchen, bathroom.

Nothing was out of place.

She was alone.

But then she noticed something.

The front door.

It was unlocked.

Her stomach twisted. She was sure—absolutely sure—she had locked it when she got home.

Her hands felt clammy against the gun.

She locked the door again. Double-checked. Triple-checked.

Then she backed away, watching it like it might open on its own.

Her phone buzzed again. Aaron.

She grabbed it, swiping to answer.

"Graves."

"Sarah? You okay?"

She hesitated. "Yeah. Just… thought I heard something."

Silence on the other end. Then—

"Me too."

Sarah’s breath caught. "What?"

"I was about to call you. " Aaron said, his voice lower now. "I swear I heard my name. In my damn apartment, Sarah."

Her skin prickled.

It followed both of them.

Whatever she saw in the woods.

Sarah’s grip on the phone tightened. "Aaron… we need to talk. First thing tomorrow."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Tomorrow."

Sarah didn’t sleep that night.

Because no matter how many times she thought of locking her door—

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was already inside.

**************************************************************************************

Aaron sat on his couch, staring at the half-empty bottle of whiskey on his table.

He hadn’t planned on drinking, but after what happened in the woods—after what happened in his apartment—**he needed something to clear his head.

Because he had heard it too.

His name.

A whisper that shouldn’t have been there.

The first time, he thought he imagined it. Stress. Exhaustion.

The second time?

It came from right behind him.

Aaron had spun around so fast he nearly knocked over his lamp. No one was there.

But the air felt thick. Suffocating.

Like something unseen was watching him.

Even now, as he sat in his dimly lit living room, he could feel it. Something wasn’t right.

He grabbed his phone, ready to call Sarah—only for it to ring first.

Her name flashed on the screen.

"Graves."

"Sarah? You okay?"

A pause. Then, her voice, quiet but tense.

"Yeah. Just… thought I heard something."

Aaron’s fingers tightened around the phone.

"Me too."

Silence stretched between them.

He could picture her now—pale, tense, gripping her own phone just as tight.

They both knew.

They both felt it.

Something had followed them home.

Aaron’s eyes flicked to the window. His apartment was on the third floor, yet for some reason, he felt an overwhelming urge to close the curtains.

"Aaron… we need to talk. First thing tomorrow."

"Yeah," he said. "Tomorrow."

But deep down, he already knew tomorrow wouldn’t change anything.

Because whatever this was—it wasn’t going to stop.