We.. Got lost. How?
It didn't happen in one big dramatic moment like in movies. No one screamed or dropped their phone in a ravine. There was no chase, no monster growling behind us. It was simpler than that—stupid, even. A wrong turn during a team-building hike. A trail we thought looped back but didn't. A mistake that any of us could've made, but none of us were brave enough to admit.
So now we're here. Somewhere in Hollow Creek National Forest. Somewhere not on the map.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me rewind.
The trip was supposed to be "transformative." That's what the school flyer said—like this was some kind of spiritual awakening instead of a glorified camping punishment.
"Nature heals," Principal Dawson chirped during assembly. "No Wi-Fi. No screens. Just real connection!"
I hate that word. Connection.
The irony? They paired me with the two most connected people in the entire school—Lia and Diana. Best friends since second grade. Sports team members, matching water bottles, inside jokes in every sentence. You'd think their voices were glued together.
Then there was Nora. The fourth in our group.
She... didn't fit either.
People at school called her "Creepy Nora." I never joined in, but I didn't defend her either. She spoke in riddles, wore weird thrift clothes like costumes, and always had a notebook full of doodles that looked like something out of a serial killer's attic.
So that was the four of us. The dynamic disaster squad.
We were supposed to follow a marked trail to the "summit rock," take a photo for the scavenger hunt, and come back by lunch. Easy. Basic orientation stuff. But the trail split. Lia said left. I said right. Nora giggled and said, "Whichever path smells less like blood." And Diana laughed nervously, like she always did when Nora spoke.
They went left.
I followed.
My first biggest mistake.
I noticed the quietness first.
No birds. No wind. Just the crunch of our feet on dry leaves and the soft hum of Lia's voice arguing with Diana about whether this was the same way we came yesterday.
"I'm telling you," Lia said, squinting at the map, "the trail forks here, and we're supposed to curve left at the hollow pine."
"That was back there," Diana said, pointing behind us. "We passed the hollow tree like twenty minutes ago."
"You think you're the forest whisperer now?"
"I just think we're—"
"We're lost," I said flatly.
They both turned to me like I'd just farted in church.
"What?" Lia snapped.
"We're not lost," Diana said, too quickly.
I gestured to the map. "No landmarks. No trail signs. The sun's dropping and we're walking in circles. So yeah. We're lost."
Nora twirled around in place, arms wide. "Isn't that fun?"
Lia rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic, Ezra. We just need to find the creek and follow it north. The campsite is that way."
She pointed confidently in a direction that—if I'm being honest—felt completely wrong.
"You sure?" I asked.
She narrowed her eyes. "You got a better idea?"
I didn't. That was the problem.
Two hours later, the sun dipped below the trees like it was running away from us. Shadows grew long. The forest turned from green to gray. Every tree looked the same. Every root twisted up like a warning.
Diana tried to stay optimistic. "We probably missed a turn. Let's just set up a rest stop. We'll see better in the morning."
She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She looked pale under the growing dark.
We found a small clearing and dumped our packs. Lia stomped around snapping branches for a fire while muttering about "idiot chaperones." Diana started shaking as soon as she sat down. Nora just lay on her back staring up at the sky like the stars were talking to her.
And me?
I sat at the edge of the circle, back against a tree, trying to ignore the growing knot in my gut.
Something felt off.
Worse than just being lost.
Like the forest had swallowed the trail behind us. Like it was closing in.
I couldn't prove it. I didn't say it out loud. But the further we walked, the less real things started to feel.
Around dusk, we started noticing the carvings.
Small ones, in the trees. Crudely scratched smiley faces—wide mouths, hollow eyes. First just one. Then another. Then dozens.
Diana stared at one for a long time.
"Why would someone… draw these?"
"They're not recent," I said. "See how the bark's healed a little? These have been here for years."
"Cool," Lia muttered. "Forest art from psychos."
Nora stepped up to one and ran her finger over the carving, then whispered:
"He's always smiling. Even when they beg him not to."
We all stared at her.
"What did you say?" Diana asked, voice cracking.
Nora blinked, like she didn't remember speaking. Then smiled, too wide.
"Nothing. Just a thought."
We didn't sleep much that night.
The fire crackled weakly. Diana dozed against Lia's shoulder. Nora sat near the edge of the light, cross-legged, drawing in her notebook again. I pretended not to notice her glancing up at me every few minutes.
I listened to the sounds. Or rather, the lack of them.
No animals. No crickets. Just the wind, moving in strange patterns. Circling us.
Then, around 3 a.m., I heard footsteps.
I froze.
They weren't close. Not yet. But steady. Crunch. Pause. Crunch. Like someone—or something—was moving just outside the fire's reach, watching.
I looked at Nora.
She was already looking at me.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered.
She nodded slowly. Then said, "Don't wake them. If it doesn't know who's awake, it won't choose."
"Choose what?"
She didn't answer.
Morning came like a blessing. Light filtered through the trees, and the forest looked less like a trap and more like just a big mess.
But we were still lost.
Worse—when we started walking again, we found our own footprints. Leading in a circle.
"Okay," Lia said, finally looking scared. "This isn't just being off trail. This is…"
"Wrong," I said. "Like something's keeping us here."
Diana looked at me with wide, tired eyes. "How would that even work? This isn't magic. This is just woods."
Nora smiled, flipping a page in her notebook. "Some forests are older than rules. They have… appetites."
Lia snapped. "Shut up, Nora."
But Nora didn't flinch.
"You'll see," she said. "One of us will smile soon. For real."
That was yesterday.
Today, we found something worse than carvings.
We found a shirt.
Torn, stained, half-buried in the dirt. I recognized the logo—it was from our school. From our trip.
Lia picked it up slowly. "That's Elijah's."
"Elijah?" Diana whispered.
"Yeah. He came on the trip last year. He got pulled for medical stuff and left early."
"No," I said quietly. "That's what they told us."
They both looked at me.
"I remember," I said. "I asked the office why his name was on the yearbook list but not in the trip photo. They said he went home early." I looked around at the trees, the carvings, the emptiness. "What if he didn't?"
Diana stepped back like the forest had reached out and touched her.
Nora closed her notebook. "He smiled, too," she said softly. "They all do eventually."
And that's how we figured we got lost.
We trusted the wrong path.
We followed the wrong voice.
And now the woods are smiling at us.
We stood there staring at Elijah's shirt for too long.
No one said it, but the same thought ran through all of our minds: He didn't make it out.
Lia turned it over with a stick like it might bite her. The fabric was torn at the collar and soaked with something dark. Dirt maybe. Or maybe not.
"I'm not doing this," she muttered. "I'm not playing into ghost stories. We find water. We follow it north. That's how survival works."
She stood up, brushing her hands on her jeans like that settled it.
"But what if north isn't real here?" Nora asked, her voice dreamy. "What if direction is just a lie these trees let us believe for a while?"
"You think this is funny?" Lia asked Nora angrily.
Nora didn't even blink. "I think you talk a lot when you're afraid."
Diana stepped between them. "Guys. Please. Let's just move. Ezra's right, we're going in circles, but maybe if we just pick a direction and stay with it—"
"Yeah," I cut in. "But not the creek."
They looked at me.
"Why not, Ezra?" Diana asked.
"I heard something there last night. Walking." I hesitated. "Watching."
Lia scoffed, but it sounded hollow. "You were probably dreaming."
"I don't sleep."
She blinked. "You're saying you didn't sleep at all last night?"
"No. I couldn't. Something's off here."
I looked around at the trees. They felt...wrong. Taller than they should be. Closer together now than they were yesterday. Like they moved when we weren't watching.
Nora looked up, whispering, "They do."
We picked a new direction—based on sun angle and tree moss, thanks to my overachiever memory from survival class—and walked. Quiet this time. Tired. No jokes. No arguing.
The silence between us wasn't peaceful. It was survival-grade tension. We were four pieces of glass just waiting for the first crack.
We passed more trees with the smile carvings. More than before. Some fresh. Some bleeding sap. Some too high to reach without a ladder or inhuman height.
"Who's making these?" Diana whispered.
Nora hummed like a child. "Maybe they make themselves."
"Can you just shut up for like five minutes?" Lia growled.
But Nora didn't react. She was sketching again. Always sketching.
That's when we found the footprints.
At first, I thought they were ours again. But these were deeper. Wider. Spaced out like someone running barefoot. No treads. Just soles and toes. No signs of wear like we had from boots. They weren't ours.
And they were fresh.
I crouched, touching the edge of one. Still damp.
"We're not alone."
"Wildlife?" Diana asked.
"People don't walk barefoot in the woods."
Nora crouched beside me, smiling at the prints. "He likes to play first. Before he chooses."
"Who the hell is he?" Lia barked.
Nora said nothing.
I looked at her sketchbook while she was distracted. My stomach turned.
She wasn't drawing trees or us or smiley faces.
She was drawing him.
A tall figure. No eyes. Just a wide, deep smile carved across a long face. In every drawing, he stood closer to us. In one, he was standing behind me.
I snapped it shut. "Where did you see this?"
Nora tilted her head like she was listening to something far away. "He's been here the whole time. You just don't see him until you do."
Diana backed away, visibly shaking now. "We need to go."
We walked until our legs hurt. Lia led the charge again, pushing branches aside like they were enemies. I started marking trees with a rock—small Xs low to the bark—so we could tell if we circled back again.
An hour in, I found one of my Xs.
It was crossed out with a carved smile over it.
I didn't tell the others. Not yet.
We stopped by a clearing around noon, sat down to split granola bars and barely-thawed peanut butter sandwiches. I couldn't eat. Diana looked sick. Nora was still smiling. Lia kept checking the map like staring at it long enough would make it redraw itself.
"I feel watched," Diana whispered. "Like every step we take is being… counted."
"You're just tired," Lia said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"I saw something this morning," Diana went on. "When I woke up. Just for a second. In the trees. Watching us. It didn't move. It didn't blink. Just stood there."
"You should've said something," I said.
"I didn't want to scare anyone."
We all stared at her.
Then Nora said softly, "It's too late for that."
It got worse after lunch.
The wind picked up, swirling leaves in small, perfect circles. Like funnels.
No birds. No bugs. Just wind and the faint smell of smoke—but no fire.
We found another shirt.
Smaller. Torn at the collar.
Diana screamed when she saw the name tag: K. TULLY.
"I remember him," she said, shaking. "He was a year below us. He came on this trip three years ago. He went missing—his family moved away, I think."
"No," I said. "They didn't."
There were bite marks on the shirt.
Something was out here.
Or someone.
Late afternoon, I confronted Nora.
"What do you know?" I asked her, just loud enough for the others to hear.
She blinked, pretending to be confused.
"This thing. The smiley face. The man in your drawings. What is he?"
Nora's lips curled. "I don't know his name. But I've seen him. In dreams. In the woods behind my house. He finds people. People who are… unnoticed. Unwanted. People who wander too far off the path."
"Like us?" Diana asked, tears in her eyes.
"Like you," Nora said.
Lia stood up. "Okay. That's enough. She's messing with us."
"I'm not," Nora said softly. "You're just too loud to hear him coming."
I snapped. "Why are you so calm about all of this?"
Nora looked at me, dead serious for the first time. "Because he doesn't want me."
We all went quiet.
That night, we made camp earlier. Built a bigger fire. Took turns keeping watch.
I took second shift. The woods were impossibly quiet. The fire crackled like it was whispering something in another language. Lia slept sitting up, knife in her lap. Diana curled tight under her jacket. Nora sat awake, sketching with her back to the trees.
I heard the footsteps again.
This time, closer.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Pause.
I stood, trying to peer into the dark.
And then—I swear it—I saw him.
A tall figure between two trees. Still. Perfectly still. Like a cardboard cutout.
But his mouth was the only thing that moved. A slow curl into a smile.
I blinked.
He was gone.
I ran to Nora. "You saw that, right?!"
She didn't look up. "You shouldn't have seen him yet."
We are not getting out of here.
Not all of us.
Someone's watching.
Someone's circling.