By Kadrolsha Ona Carole
The trees creaked overhead like an ancient cathedral groaning in its sleep. Twelve-year-old Mason wasn’t sure when the trail had vanished—maybe after the third ravine, maybe after he’d tried to shortcut through the brambles. All he knew now was that the sunlight had faded into bruised twilight, and the forest around him was getting too quiet.
His breath came fast, and he gripped his flashlight like a weapon. This is just like that movie… he thought. The one where the shadows had teeth.
Every snapping twig behind him felt deliberate. He spun, heart pounding. The beam of light sliced through the branches but found only mist. Then came the whispering—not words, just rustling, like something dragging through the underbrush in circles.
Mason’s imagination shifted into overdrive:
· A werewolf lurking just outside the light’s reach.
· A ghost child who had died in these woods and wanted a new friend.
· A faceless man who could climb trees like a spider.
He shouted into the dark, trying to sound brave, but his voice cracked like a twig. “Hello? I’m not afraid!”
A lie.
Leaves rustled. Something was definitely moving now—fast. Mason backed up, tripped over a root, and hit the ground hard. Dazed, he stared into the canopy. His flashlight flickered, threatening betrayal. That’s when he saw it: glowing eyes in the darkness. Low to the ground. Approaching.
“Mason!” came a bark—a real, familiar bark. It was Harley, his golden retriever, bounding through the underbrush like a streak of sunshine in the gloom. The glowing eyes had been his dog’s.
Relief surged through Mason’s chest like warm honey. Harley licked his face and nudged him upright, tail wagging like an applause. The boy hugged the dog so hard it whimpered.
“Let’s go home, boy.”
With Harley leading, Mason followed the dog’s nose through twisting trails that had once seemed impossible. As they reached the edge of the woods, the last rays of sun broke through the trees—and Mason turned back just once. Just to make sure the forest stayed behind.
In that moment, he could’ve sworn he saw something watching. Still. Silent. Waiting.
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