The summer air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth as Jaymy, Margaret, and Jeanelle drove deeper into the mountains. The landscape, lush and green, was a stark contrast to the chaotic, noisy life they had left behind in the city. They had rented an old cabin hidden in the woods, far from civilization—a perfect escape from their busy lives and a much-needed break from their mundane routines. The forest was alive, teeming with sounds of rustling leaves, chirping birds, and the occasional distant howl of a wild animal.
As the road narrowed, the trees began to grow taller, their branches stretching outward as if trying to touch the sky. The air seemed thicker here, a little cooler, and as the car rounded the last bend, the cabin finally came into view. It was nestled among the trees, its silhouette barely visible against the backdrop of towering pine trees. The wood was dark and weathered, and the roof was lined with moss, evidence of the cabin's age. It looked like something out of an old story, the kind where secrets lingered in every shadow.
Jaymy, the most practical of the three, was the first to jump out of the car. "Looks like we're the first ones here," she said, a note of excitement in her voice. "Let's get the place set up."
Margaret followed, stretching her arms above her head, taking in the fresh air. She was the dreamer of the group, always finding magic in the ordinary. "It's perfect. This is exactly what I needed," she said, breathing deeply.
Jeanelle, ever the skeptic, hesitated before stepping out. "I don't know. Something about this place feels... off. It's so... quiet. I expected more wildlife or something."
Margaret laughed. "You're just not used to being away from the city. You'll see. It's beautiful."
The girls unpacked their bags, hauling their things into the cabin. Inside, the cabin was just as they had expected—dusty, dimly lit, and oddly still. The wooden floor creaked under their footsteps, and cobwebs clung to the corners of the room. But despite its age, it had a certain charm—rustic, untouched by time. A large stone fireplace dominated the living room, and a long wooden table sat in the center, covered in a thin layer of dust.
"I think I'll take the upstairs bedroom," Jaymy said, choosing a room at the far end of the hall. She was the one who always took charge, the one who organized everything, and the one who usually took the lead.
Jeanelle, reluctant as ever, made a face. "Fine, I'll take the other one, but if I hear any strange noises, I'm going home."
Margaret chose the room next to the stairs, its window offering a perfect view of the surrounding woods. She stood there for a long moment, gazing out at the trees, her fingers lightly brushing the glass. She could feel the pull of the forest, an almost magnetic force that seemed to draw her in. It was as if the trees were calling to her, beckoning her to step into their shadowed depths.
"Come on, Margaret! We're going to find the lake," Jaymy called from downstairs.
Margaret turned away from the window, shook off her thoughts, and hurried down to join her friends.
After settling in, the trio ventured out into the woods to explore. They wandered along a narrow, winding path, the air cool against their skin as they walked deeper into the forest. The trees grew thicker the further they went, their trunks twisting in strange shapes, their branches intertwining to form a canopy above. The sunlight filtered through the leaves in streaks, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.
"This place feels like something out of a fairytale," Margaret said, her voice low, almost reverent. "I can't believe we've never been here before."
Jaymy laughed, though there was a nervous edge to her tone. "You're the one who wanted to get away from the noise. Now you're complaining it's too quiet?"
"I'm not complaining," Margaret said, glancing at her friend. "It's just... peaceful. But also kind of eerie."
Jeanelle shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Eerie? You're being dramatic. It's just a forest."
They walked for what felt like hours, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of pine needles underfoot. The further they went, the darker the forest seemed to become, the trees pressing in on them from all sides. Eventually, they stumbled upon something strange: a clearing, hidden behind a curtain of vines and overgrown shrubs. It was an old playground, long abandoned.
The rusted swings creaked in the wind, their chains twisted and tangled. The slides were covered in moss and dirt, and the merry-go-round was so overgrown that it had become part of the earth itself. The playground equipment stood in eerie stillness, as though frozen in time.
Jeanelle raised an eyebrow. "What the hell is this place?"
"I don't know," Margaret said, a smile tugging at her lips. "But it looks... fun."
She climbed onto one of the swings and began to push herself back and forth, laughing as the air rushed past her. Jaymy and Jeanelle followed, reluctantly at first, but then they, too, began to laugh. The sense of adventure was infectious, and for a moment, it felt as though they had stepped into another world, one untouched by time.
As the sun began to set, they reluctantly stopped playing and headed back toward the cabin. The forest seemed quieter now, the shadows deeper, as if the day was closing in on them faster than usual.
That night, after a simple dinner of canned food and instant noodles, they all retreated to their separate rooms. The silence of the cabin was deafening. The only sounds were the occasional creaks of the old house and the distant rustle of the trees outside.
Margaret lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The day's adventure replayed in her mind, but something about it felt off. The playground, the strange feeling in the air—she couldn't shake the sense that something had been watching them. Something hidden in the forest, just beyond their reach.
She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, she decided to get up. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten much that day. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her friends.
As she made her way down the dark hallway to the washroom, she heard it—faint at first, but unmistakable. A creaking sound, like old floorboards groaning under weight. But there was something else too—a soft murmur, almost like whispers, just out of reach.
Margaret's heart skipped a beat. She paused, listening. The whispers grew louder, clearer, as if they were calling to her. She followed the sound, her feet moving almost of their own accord. The air seemed colder now, and a sense of dread washed over her.
Then, she stepped on something—a small bump in the floor, barely noticeable. She froze. The whispering grew louder, more urgent. Something was wrong.
The floor beneath her suddenly shifted, and before she could react, a deep, dark hole opened up beneath her feet. She fell, her scream swallowed by the darkness, the whispers now a chorus of mocking laughter.