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| Natalie |
Natalie’s breath puffed out in small clouds, dissolving into the crisp October air as she trudged deeper into the forest. She could hear the snap of twigs under her feet, each sound breaking the stillness of the night like a sharp crack. Above her, the twisted canopy of the trees shut out most of the moonlight, leaving her bathed in shadow. Her fingers brushed against the cold dampness of the leaves, and the sensation sent a shiver racing down her spine.
She hadn't meant to wander so far. What started as a dare—her friends laughing, taunting her to explore the old woods that everyone whispered about—had turned into something far more unsettling. Now, standing alone in the thick of the forest, Natalie felt a weight pressing against her chest. There was no sound but the rhythmic crunch of her boots and the soft rustle of the wind in the trees. And yet, she felt something. Something ancient.
The history of Jack O'Lantern flickered in her mind, a tale half-remembered from childhood. The legend went back centuries, tied to Halloween folklore, when people used to carve grotesque faces into turnips or pumpkins to ward off wandering spirits. The spirit of Stingy Jack, condemned to roam the Earth with only a burning coal in a hollowed-out vegetable for light, was said to appear in forests like this. The ancient history of Jack O'Lantern in Halloween folklore was more than just a story for kids; it was a warning, one her grandmother used to tell with a sharp look in her eyes. The thought made Natalie walk faster, heart thudding.
A branch brushed across her cheek, cold and slick with dew. She flinched, wiping it away, only to feel the sticky remains of a cobweb across her fingers. "Ugh," she muttered, rubbing her hands against the rough bark of a nearby tree. The texture scraped against her skin, and she could feel the ancient grooves worn into the wood. The tree felt alive, watching her, as though the forest itself was aware of her presence.
“Chill out, Nat,” she whispered to herself, trying to keep her fear in check. But there was no denying it—something was off. She could feel it in the dampness that clung to her clothes, the way the cold seemed to seep into her bones, and the oppressive weight of the night pressing down on her shoulders.
Then, the silence shattered.
A twig snapped somewhere behind her, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet. Natalie froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her hands instinctively gripped the nearest tree trunk, its rough bark biting into her palms. Slowly, she turned her head, but all she could see was darkness, thick and impenetrable. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She knew someone—something—was out there.
“Hello?” she called out, her voice shaky, barely more than a whisper. No answer. Just the rustle of leaves, the creaking of the trees, and the distant hoot of an owl.
Her pulse quickened, panic bubbling up inside her. She didn’t want to seem scared, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest had eyes, ancient and unseen, that were now trained on her. Her footsteps quickened, the soft patter turning into a sprint as she darted between the trees, heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know where she was running to, only that she had to get away.
She stumbled on a root, nearly losing her balance. In the chaos, her phone slipped from her pocket, bouncing against the ground before disappearing into the thick underbrush. “Damn it!” she hissed, skidding to a halt. The beam from the phone’s flashlight flickered off in the distance, swallowed by the forest. She bit her lip. It was stupid to go back for it. She should keep running, but…
Natalie took a deep breath, steeling herself, and retraced her steps, carefully navigating the twisted roots and leaves that blanketed the forest floor. As she knelt down to reach for her phone, she heard it again—a shuffle, this time closer.
Her fingers closed around the cold metal of her phone, and she stood quickly, flicking the light around her. The beam of light caught something. For just a second, she saw it—a face. A grinning, jagged face, glowing faintly in the dark.
Her breath hitched, and her body reacted before her brain could process it. She turned and bolted, racing through the trees without looking back. Her skin crawled with the sensation of cobwebs and dampness, every brush of a branch against her body sending her spiraling deeper into panic.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she saw a faint light ahead—a cabin, old and dilapidated, barely visible through the trees. Desperation drove her toward it. The moment she crossed the threshold, slamming the door behind her, she collapsed against the wooden walls, chest heaving. The place reeked of dust and decay, but it was shelter, and for now, it was enough.
Inside the cabin, the air was thick with dust, and Natalie could feel it clinging to her skin, settling in the creases of her clothes. She fumbled with her phone, hands shaking, but the screen had cracked during her fall, rendering it useless. A curse slipped past her lips as she shoved it back into her pocket. The darkness inside the cabin was suffocating, only broken by the faint moonlight filtering through the broken windows.
Natalie slid to the floor, her back against the wall. Her heart was still racing, the adrenaline surging through her veins making it impossible to sit still. She could feel the rough texture of the wooden planks beneath her, the splinters poking through her leggings. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the floor, encountering the grainy texture of dust caked thickly across the wood. It coated her palms, gritty and suffocating.
Suddenly, a soft creak echoed from the ceiling. Natalie’s head shot up. The sound was faint, but unmistakable—something was above her. The attic. She strained her ears, listening for any movement, but the cabin had fallen silent again.
Her stomach twisted. She needed to hide.
A small, cramped door stood to her left, half hidden by a broken chair. Without thinking, she crawled toward it, opening it to reveal a crawlspace just big enough for her to squeeze into. She shimmied inside, pulling the door shut behind her as best she could. The space was tight, her knees pulled up to her chest, her body pressed against the cold, damp wood. She could feel the dust in the air, each breath bringing a dry, suffocating sensation to her throat.
The space smelled of rot, and the floor beneath her was thick with grime. She shifted slightly, but the movement only kicked up more dust, the fine particles swirling in the faint light that leaked through the cracks in the boards. She could feel the coarseness of the wood against her palms, the rough, splintered edges biting into her skin. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind racing with panic. The cabin’s oppressive atmosphere weighed on her, the air thick and choking.
And then, she felt it. The urge she couldn’t ignore. Natalie squirmed, biting her lip. She’d been running so long, panic keeping her from realizing how badly she needed to go. Now, trapped in this claustrophobic space, there was no holding it any longer.
She cursed under her breath, her voice barely a whisper in the stale air. With no choice, she shifted again, pushing herself into a corner of the crawlspace. Her body shook with the humiliation of it as she let go, the sound of her urine hitting the dusty wooden floor seeming far too loud in the silence. The warmth quickly faded, leaving her feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than before.
Natalie’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling as she tried to calm herself. But the anxiety only mounted. The dusty air seemed to thicken, making each breath a struggle. She ran her hands over the brittle insulation, feeling its rough, scratchy texture against her fingers. It made her skin crawl, the sensation amplifying her already heightened fear. The tightness of the space pressed in on her from all sides, and the darkness seemed to grow deeper, swallowing her whole.
Her mind wandered back to the historical significance of Jack o'lanterns in Halloween. The grinning face she'd seen earlier flashed in her mind—a twisted, jagged smile glowing faintly in the shadows. It couldn’t have been real. It must have been a trick of the light, a shadow cast by her phone, or her imagination running wild in the darkness.
But what if it wasn’t?
The cultural symbolism of Jack o'lanterns wasn’t just about keeping spirits away. Some believed they could summon them, too. She recalled how people used to carve faces into turnips to confuse wandering souls, but in the old tales, there were those who didn’t wander. Some, like Jack, didn’t want to leave. They stayed, lurking in the dark, waiting for the chance to trap others.
A sudden creak above her sent her heart into her throat. The floorboards groaned under the weight of something heavy, moving slowly, methodically. She held her breath, straining to hear more. It was getting closer.
Natalie pressed her body further against the wall, willing herself to disappear into the cracks. The rough wood dug into her back, the splinters breaking through her shirt, but she didn’t move.
The rough wood dug into her back, the splinters breaking through her shirt, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The shadows above loomed large, and the sound was unmistakably closer now—a slow, deliberate scrape, like fingers brushing against the floorboards.
Natalie's breath quickened, and a new wave of panic crashed over her, washing away the last vestiges of rational thought. She strained to listen, trying to make out any details over the roar of her heartbeat in her ears. It was a sound she couldn't ignore, an otherworldly whisper that promised dread. She thought of her friends, how they’d laughed when they’d dared her to come out here. She could almost hear their taunts echoing through the silence: “You scared, Nat?”
Her fingers tightened against the rough edges of the insulation, and she willed herself to stay still, heart racing wildly. The history of Jack O'Lantern, the legends, the eerie stories of spirits and the supernatural—everything her grandmother had told her now felt like a dark omen, wrapping around her mind like the creeping tendrils of the fog outside.
The scraping stopped. For a moment, there was only silence—thick and suffocating, like a heavy blanket draped over her. She could hear the soft flutter of her own breaths, each one shaky and filled with fear. What if the legends were true? What if Jack was real?
The thought twisted in her stomach, as cold as the dampness of the crawlspace. Her thoughts spiraled into the ancient stories, the historical significance of the Jack O’Lanterns—the faces carved into pumpkins designed to frighten away evil spirits. The grinning features had always seemed whimsical, but now they felt like a warning.
Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the stillness, rattling the cabin. Natalie jumped, the noise echoing through the cramped space like thunder. The weight of whatever was above her shifted again, moving with intent. She felt a rush of heat creeping up her cheeks, a combination of fear and the urge to scream, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to breathe.
Maybe it would go away. Maybe it was just an animal or some other unsuspecting wanderer. She tried to convince herself, but the cold sweat dripping down her back told her otherwise.
Then came the sound—soft at first, like a whisper, but steadily growing louder. It was a low, drawn-out chant, barely discernible but echoing with an ancient rhythm. The words were indecipherable, but the tone sent shivers racing down her spine. A voice that seemed to rise from the depths of the earth, a voice that belonged to something old, something powerful.
“Leave…leave…leave…”
Natalie pressed her hands over her mouth, stifling a cry. Her heart thundered in her chest, a drum of warning urging her to run. But where? The idea of leaving the cramped safety of the crawlspace felt impossible. The darkness outside seemed to pulse with life, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her, waiting.
She knew she had to find a way out, but her mind was a whirlpool of fear and confusion. A thought flickered through her mind: the stories of people who had disappeared in these woods, never to be found. She had dismissed them as nothing but urban legends, but now they felt like a dire reality.
With trembling hands, Natalie edged toward the narrow opening, feeling the dust settle heavily on her skin. She needed to act before whatever was above her discovered her hiding place. But before she could fully emerge, another crash rang out, followed by the creaking of the floorboards above.
The voice grew louder, echoing through the cabin, and suddenly it stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that was worse than the noise. It was like the world had stopped breathing, holding its breath in anticipation.
And then it came—footsteps. Slow, deliberate, and undeniably human. The weight shifted on the floor above her, accompanied by a soft scraping sound, as if something was being dragged across the wood. Natalie’s heart raced as she imagined the figure moving around the cabin, searching for her, their presence looming over her like a dark cloud.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision as she fought to keep her panic in check. She had to find a way out—she couldn’t stay here. But where could she go? She felt trapped, ensnared by the very shadows she had once considered a harmless backdrop to her adventures.
“Why are you hiding, little girl?” The voice rang out above her, low and smooth, sending chills racing down her spine. It wasn’t the voice from before; this was new, dripping with a sinister sweetness. “The night is full of secrets… and you’re one of them.”
Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, willing the voice to go away, willing her fear to disappear. But it was futile.
She felt a tug in her gut, a primal urge to survive, pushing her to move. She needed to escape this nightmare. The figure was still above her, circling like a predator, and she knew that she had to take the risk.
Gathering every ounce of courage, she pulled herself out of the crawlspace, the splinters biting into her skin as she emerged into the cabin. The dust swirled around her, stinging her eyes, and she could taste the gritty air in her mouth.
The cabin was empty, and she quickly glanced around for an exit. The door she had entered through was slightly ajar, the outside darkness beckoning her. She took a cautious step forward, but as she did, the door swung open violently, crashing against the wall with a loud bang.
Standing in the doorway was a figure—a tall silhouette, illuminated by the pale moonlight behind them. A Jack O'Lantern rested at their feet, its carved face glowing eerily in the dark. The pumpkin’s smile was wide, jagged, and all too familiar.
Natalie froze, her mind racing. She could feel the ancient stories curling around her thoughts, wrapping around her like a net. She remembered the tales, the horror of Jack O'Lanterns meant to keep spirits at bay, and here was one, grinning up at her with an almost playful malevolence.
“Running from your fears?” The figure stepped forward, and as the light from the Jack O'Lantern flickered, she caught sight of their face—a gaunt visage with hollow eyes that gleamed like black holes, and a twisted grin that mirrored the pumpkin. “You’ve stumbled into something far beyond your understanding.”
“No,” she whispered, backing away. The darkness pressed against her from all sides, and she could feel the weight of the night closing in. She needed to escape. She needed to run.
“Do you know the cultural symbolism of Jack O’Lanterns? They’re not just a decoration. They’re a warning, a guide. They draw in the lost souls who wander these woods, looking for a way home.” The figure tilted their head, eyes glinting with malicious glee. “And you, Natalie, are now part of the history.”
The shadows seemed to close in around her, wrapping around her legs like tendrils. She could feel the cold dampness creeping into her bones as she turned to flee, but the floorboards creaked ominously beneath her feet, holding her in place.
“Help!” she screamed, her voice echoing into the night. “Somebody help me!” But the sound fell flat in the stillness, swallowed by the thick air.
The figure stepped closer, and the glow from the Jack O'Lantern brightened, illuminating the room with a flickering light. The pumpkin’s grin seemed to widen as if it were laughing at her predicament. “No one is coming, dear. They never do.”
With a sudden rush of adrenaline, Natalie surged forward, shoving past the figure and darting out into the night. The cool air hit her like a slap, invigorating and terrifying all at once. She stumbled down the steps, the forest opening up around her as she dashed into the trees.
Branches snagged at her clothes, tugging her back as she tore through the underbrush. The sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else. She ran, each step fueled by a primal instinct to survive, to escape the darkness that threatened to engulf her.
But the forest was alive, the ancient trees bending around her, watching, waiting. The shadows danced at the corners of her vision, and she could almost hear whispers taunting her, drawing her deeper into their web.
“Keep running, little girl,” a voice echoed through the trees, familiar yet foreign. “You can’t escape your fate.”
And suddenly, the ground beneath her gave way. She stumbled, falling into a pit concealed by leaves and debris.
Natalie landed hard, the air rushing from her lungs. She gasped, blinking up at the darkened sky, the leaves shifting like a shroud above her. Pain shot through her ankle, but she didn’t have time to assess it. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around in a panic.
The pit was deeper than she expected, surrounded by roots and shadows. In the dim light, she could see faint shapes lurking at the edges, faces carved into the earth itself, watching her with eyes that gleamed like stars. It was a gathering of Jack O'Lanterns, their grins wide and waiting.
“No, no, no!” she cried, scrambling back against the wall of dirt, her heart racing as she realized the truth. This was a place where the spirits were drawn, where the history of Jack O’Lanterns mingled with her fate. She was trapped, part of the very tales she had once dismissed.
The chanting returned, echoing through the pit, and she felt the ground beneath her pulse with energy, a dark magic surging around her. The faces in the earth leaned closer, and she knew they were waiting for her to join them—waiting for her to become part of their eternal night.
“Please!” she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Let me go!”
But the earth was unyielding, and the shadows closed in. The glow of the Jack O'Lanterns brightened, illuminating her despair as she realized her fate was sealed within the stories of Halloween—a tale to be shared around campfires for generations, but she would never be part of the telling.
In that moment of clarity, she understood the true meaning behind the legends: some tales are never meant to end, and some Jack O'Lanterns are never meant to fade.
As the darkness swallowed her, the last thing she saw was the twisted grin of the pumpkin, its flickering light a beacon for the lost souls who roamed the woods.
And in the silence that followed, the forest whispered a new story, one that would haunt the living and the dead alike.