Into the Dark Woods
Mark had been looking forward to this camping trip for months. Just him and his eight-year-old son, Lucas—no work emails, no distractions, just father-son bonding under the stars.
They had set up camp near a quiet lake, roasted marshmallows, and shared stories by the fire. Lucas had been thrilled, his laughter echoing through the trees. As the night deepened, the boy yawned, rubbing his sleepy eyes.
“Time for bed, buddy,” Mark said, ruffling his son’s hair.
Lucas groaned but climbed into the tent. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, his small form curled up in a sleeping bag.
Mark sat by the fire a little longer, enjoying the peace. But when he finally zipped the tent shut and lay down, exhaustion claimed him instantly.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when something pulled him awake. A rustling. A whisper of movement outside the tent. He reached for his flashlight, heart pounding.
“Lucas?” he called softly, turning toward where his son had been sleeping.
The sleeping bag was empty.
Panic surged through him. He scrambled out of the tent, the cold night air wrapping around him like ice. His flashlight’s beam cut through the darkness, illuminating trees, but no sign of Lucas.
“Lucas!” he shouted, his voice shaking. “Where are you?”
Silence. Then—a rustling sound, deeper in the woods.
Mark ran toward it, branches clawing at his arms. The beam of light bounced wildly as his breath came in ragged gasps.
Then he saw them. Small footprints in the dirt, leading deeper into the trees.
Why would Lucas wander off? He had always been afraid of the dark.
Swallowing his fear, Mark followed the tracks, calling his son’s name again and again. The footprints led to a small clearing, and that’s when he saw something that made his blood run cold.
Lucas’s flashlight, lying on the ground. Flickering.
Mark’s hands trembled as he picked it up. The woods around him felt impossibly vast, stretching in every direction. The silence was unnatural, heavy.
Then, a sound. A whisper.
“Daddy…”
Mark spun around, his heart hammering. The voice was faint, distant.
“Lucas! Keep talking to me, buddy!” He stumbled forward, pushing through the thick brush.
Then, suddenly—there he was.
Lucas stood near a tree, his wide eyes filled with fear. He was shivering, his small hands gripping his pajamas.
Mark dropped to his knees, pulling his son into a tight embrace. “What happened? Why did you leave the tent?”
Lucas hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I heard someone calling my name. But it wasn’t you.”
A chill ran down Mark’s spine as he held his son tighter. He looked around at the trees, their shadows stretching under the moonlight.
The woods were silent again. But Mark couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t alone.
