The road slithered like a half-dead snake, its asphalt cracked and devoured by creeping vines. Mist hung low, muffling the world in damp gray, and the only sound was the crunch of tires on loose gravel.

Emma stared out the window, her nails clicking rhythmically against the armrest of their beat-up sedan. Beside her, Brian squinted at the paper map he insisted on using instead of the GPS.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered, flipping the map over as if it might reveal some hidden truth. “The gas station guy said to keep straight past the old church.”

Emma snorted. “Which old church? We passed three, and every one of them looked like it was about to fall over.”

“Just give me a minute.” Brian ran a hand through his hair, his exasperation brewing like a summer storm.

Emma didn’t argue. Something about the woods pressed in too close, whispering secrets she couldn’t quite hear. The gnarled trees arched overhead, blotting out what little light seeped through the clouds. She shivered, though the air was muggy.

The road narrowed until it wasn’t a road at all, just a dirt path choked with kudzu. “Brian, we should turn around,” she said, her voice tight.

He ignored her, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. The sedan jolted over a rut, and the headlights caught something ahead—a weathered wooden sign nailed to a tree.

“The Road Ends Here,” Emma read aloud, her stomach twisting.

“I’ll find a spot to turn around,” Brian said, though his knuckles had gone white.

The car crawled forward, tires sliding in the loose dirt. Then, as if on cue, the engine sputtered and died.

Brian slapped the wheel. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Emma stared at the dark trees ahead, their branches clawing at the sky. “Try it again.”

He turned the key. Nothing but silence.

“Great,” she muttered, reaching for her phone. No bars. Of course.

“I’ll check the engine,” Brian said, his voice forced calm. He stepped out, leaving Emma alone in the suffocating quiet. She watched him pop the hood and fumble with the flashlight.

Then she saw it—a flicker of movement in the trees.

“Brian,” she called, her heart thudding. “Did you see that?”

He didn’t respond.

“Brian?”

When he straightened, his face was pale. “We’re not alone out here.”

Emma swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

Before he could answer, a laugh cut through the stillness. Low and guttural, it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Emma froze, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The laugh came again, joined by another, then another, until the air itself seemed alive with sound.

And then they appeared.

Figures emerged from the woods, their forms barely human. They wore scraps of tattered clothing, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. One of them stepped forward, grinning with a mouth full of broken teeth.

“Lost, are ya?” the figure rasped.

Emma grabbed Brian’s arm, pulling him back toward the car. “We don’t want any trouble.”

The grin widened. “Trouble’s already found ya, sweetie pie.”

The figures surged closer, surrounding the car. Emma stumbled as the air grew colder, a bone-deep chill that made her teeth chatter. She swore she saw the ground ripple like water, the dirt shifting and crawling with pale, skeletal hands.

“Run!” Brian shouted, grabbing her hand.

They bolted into the woods, the laughter chasing them like a pack of wolves. The trees seemed to twist and shift, their roots snaking up to trip them. The air grew heavier, each breath a struggle.

Just when Emma thought she couldn’t run anymore, they burst into a clearing. A dilapidated house loomed before them, its windows dark and unwelcoming.

Brian hesitated. “Do we—?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Emma panted, dragging him toward the porch.

The door creaked open before they could touch it. Inside, the house smelled of mildew and something coppery. The floorboards groaned under their weight as they stepped in.

Behind them, the door slammed shut.

Emma turned, her breath catching as the figures from the woods appeared in the room’s shadows. Their eyes glowed brighter now, and the laughter was deafening. The air buzzed with static, and the walls seemed to close in.

“What do you want?” Brian yelled, his voice cracking.

The lead figure tilted its head, as if considering. “Payment,” it said, grinning wider.

“For what?” Emma whispered.

The figure pointed a long, bony finger at her chest. “For trespassing.”

The floor gave way beneath them, and they fell into darkness. Emma’s scream echoed long after they disappeared, swallowed by the hungry woods.

In the silence that followed, the house stood still, waiting for its next visitors.

The End