The rain tapped the windowpane like a stranger seeking entry, each drop a quiet叩击 on the glass. Mara adjusted her scarf, the wool rough against her neck, and stared at the fog-draped highway. The sign ahead read: *Welcome to Blackwood*—a faded yellow rectangle flanked by two crooked arrows. She had not set foot here in fifteen years, but the road had pulled her back, as if some invisible thread tugged at her bones.
The town lay silent, its streets empty except for the wind. A rusted mailbox creaked as it swayed, and the scent of damp earth mingled with something sharper—oil, maybe, or decay. Mara’s boots crunched over gravel as she walked toward the diner at the edge of town, its neon sign flickering weakly. Inside, the air smelled of burnt coffee and old smoke. A man behind the counter glanced up, his eyes dark and uninterested.
“Table for one?” he asked, his voice flat.
She nodded, sliding into a booth. The vinyl seat groaned beneath her. Across the room, a woman in a red coat sat alone, her fingers tracing patterns on the table. Mara noticed the way the woman’s gaze lingered on her, then quickly shifted away. A beat later, the woman stood and left without a word.
Mara ordered coffee, but the man didn’t move. She waited, then leaned forward. “You know who I am?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back to the grill, flipping a pancake with a metal spatula. The sound was loud in the quiet room.
Outside, the rain had stopped. Mara stepped onto the sidewalk, her breath visible in the cold air. The diner’s door swung shut behind her with a soft *click*. She walked down the street, past shuttered storefronts and empty porches. A car passed slowly, its headlights cutting through the gloom. The driver didn’t slow.
She reached the edge of town, where the forest began. Trees loomed like sentinels, their branches tangled in a web of shadows. A path led into the woods, barely visible beneath fallen leaves. Mara hesitated, then stepped onto it. The ground was soft under her boots, and the air grew colder. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out—a sharp, piercing sound.
She stopped when she heard it: a low murmur, like voices just beyond earshot. Mara turned, her pulse quickening. The trees seemed to close in around her, their trunks thick and gnarled. She took a step back, then another. The whispering grew louder, more insistent. A gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying with it the scent of pine and something else—something metallic, like blood.
A sudden crack echoed through the woods. Mara froze. Then she ran, her boots pounding against the earth as she fled the path. The trees blurred around her, their shadows stretching long in the fading light. She didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the forest, where the road stretched empty and dark ahead.
Back in town, she found a motel on the edge of the highway. The clerk, a woman with tired eyes, handed her a key without a word. The room was small, its walls thin. Mara sat on the bed, her hands trembling. She thought of the woman in the diner, the way she had left without explanation. Of the whispering in the woods. Of the car that had passed her on the road.
That night, she dreamt of the forest. Of faces in the trees, of voices calling her name. When she woke, her throat was dry, her sheets damp with sweat. She opened the window, letting in the cold air. The town was quiet again, but she could feel something watching her—something just beyond the edge of sight.
The next morning, she went to the library. The building was old, its wooden floors creaking under her steps. A librarian, a man with silver hair and a tired smile, greeted her. “Looking for something specific?”
Mara nodded. “I’m trying to find out what happened to my father. He came here years ago, but no one talks about it.”
The man’s smile faded. He hesitated, then led her to a row of dusty books. “You’ll need the archives,” he said. “They’re in the basement. But be careful—some things are best left forgotten.”
The basement was dark, the air thick with dust. Mara ran her fingers along the spines of old newspapers, their headlines faded. She found a file labeled *Blackwood Murders* and opened it. The pages were yellowed, the ink smudged. A list of names, dates, and brief descriptions. Her father’s name was there, circled in red.
A sound echoed from the upper floors—a door slamming shut. Mara froze. Then she heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, descending the stairs. She tucked the file under her arm and backed toward the exit. The door was ajar, and she slipped out into the cold morning air.
Back at the motel, she pored over the file. Her father had been investigating a series of disappearances in the town, all linked to the forest. The last entry was dated the day he vanished. A single sentence: *The woods are watching.*
That night, she returned to the forest. The path was darker now, the trees taller. She moved carefully, her breath visible in the air. The whispering returned, louder this time. She stopped, her heart pounding. Then she heard a voice—her own, but not quite. *Come closer,* it said. *You’re not safe here.*
Mara turned, but there was no one behind her. The wind howled through the trees, and the shadows seemed to shift. She took a step back, then another. The forest closed in around her, the air thick with something unseen. She ran, her boots pounding against the earth, until she reached the edge of the woods.
Back in town, she found the woman from the diner waiting outside the motel. “You shouldn’t be here,” the woman said, her voice low. “They’ll come for you if you keep digging.”
Mara met her gaze. “Who are you? What happened to my father?”
The woman hesitated. “I was his partner. We came here to find answers. But some secrets aren’t meant to be uncovered.”
A car pulled up behind them, its headlights cutting through the darkness. The driver didn’t stop. Mara turned, her heart racing. The woman grabbed her arm. “Run,” she whispered.
Mara didn’t look back as she sprinted down the road, the wind in her hair. The town faded behind her, its lights blinking like distant stars. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew one thing: the forest had changed her, and there was no turning back.
