Samantha (Corrections Officer)

I wanted to pack up, get in my car, and head back to campus, away from the snow, the silence, and that faceless watcher who still lurked in my imagination. The memory of him, frozen in that field, refused to leave. It stayed with me, a reminder that sometimes the scariest thing isn't the howling wind or the darkness itself, but the silent stranger waiting just beyond the edge of the light.

I wanted to pack up, get in my car, and head back to campus, away from the snow, the silence, and that faceless watcher who still lurked in my imagination. The memory of him, frozen in that field, refused to leave. It stayed with me, a reminder that sometimes the scariest thing isn't the howling wind or the darkness itself, but the silent stranger waiting just beyond the edge of the light.

I packed the truck at dawn, half excited and half nervous about returning to my dad's old cabin. My friend rode shotgun, fiddling with the radio even though there wasn't much chance of picking up a station out here. We'd been on that lonely highway for hours, watching the scenery transform from tired farmland to dense forest. The deeper we drove, the more I realized how isolated we were.

I packed the truck at dawn, half excited and half nervous about returning to my dad's old cabin. My friend rode shotgun, fiddling with the radio even though there wasn't much chance of picking up a station out here. We'd been on that lonely highway for hours, watching the scenery transform from tired farmland to dense forest. The deeper we drove, the more I realized how isolated we were.

Every mile felt like it was pulling us further from anything resembling civilization. Eventually, we found the battered wooden sign marking the logging road. Grass and weeds choked the entrance, and our tires crunched over rocks as we turned in.

Every mile felt like it was pulling us further from anything resembling civilization. Eventually, we found the battered wooden sign marking the logging road. Grass and weeds choked the entrance, and our tires crunched over rocks as we turned in.

I tried to crack a joke about horror movies starting exactly this way, two guys heading into the wilderness without telling many people where they were going. My friend forced a laugh, but I could hear the edge in his voice. The road was rough, bouncing us around in our seats. It wound through towering trees that shut out most of the sunlight.

I tried to crack a joke about horror movies starting exactly this way, two guys heading into the wilderness without telling many people where they were going. My friend forced a laugh, but I could hear the edge in his voice. The road was rough, bouncing us around in our seats. It wound through towering trees that shut out most of the sunlight.

The place felt like it was swallowing us whole, and I couldn't decide if I loved it or hated it. We parked at a clearing when the path got too narrow to continue. Then we lugged our gear on foot for another couple of miles. Every step got quieter as the underbrush absorbed the sound of our boots.

The place felt like it was swallowing us whole, and I couldn't decide if I loved it or hated it. We parked at a clearing when the path got too narrow to continue. Then we lugged our gear on foot for another couple of miles. Every step got quieter as the underbrush absorbed the sound of our boots.

After what felt like forever, the cabin came into view, small and worn but somehow comforting in its own ragged way. I remember standing there, taking in the moss-covered roof and the peeling paint on the door. My friend glanced around like he was waiting for someone or something to jump out, but nothing stirred except a breeze that rattled the branches overhead.

After what felt like forever, the cabin came into view, small and worn but somehow comforting in its own ragged way. I remember standing there, taking in the moss-covered roof and the peeling paint on the door. My friend glanced around like he was waiting for someone or something to jump out, but nothing stirred except a breeze that rattled the branches overhead.

inside the air was still i flicked on my flashlight revealing a space that was more or less just four walls two rickety bunks and a little fireplace in the corner the kitchen counter held a couple of dusty mugs remnants of past trips i told myself it was good to be back we unrolled our sleeping bags on the bunks trying to make ourselves comfortable

inside the air was still i flicked on my flashlight revealing a space that was more or less just four walls two rickety bunks and a little fireplace in the corner the kitchen counter held a couple of dusty mugs remnants of past trips i told myself it was good to be back we unrolled our sleeping bags on the bunks trying to make ourselves comfortable

that silent hush clung to everything and even our low conversation felt too loud we stacked our supplies in a corner canned food water jugs a single lantern for nighttime use as dusk settled the woods outside turned darker than i'd ever seen them We cooked dinner over a tiny camping stove, talking about old memories to keep our nerves in check.

that silent hush clung to everything and even our low conversation felt too loud we stacked our supplies in a corner canned food water jugs a single lantern for nighttime use as dusk settled the woods outside turned darker than i'd ever seen them We cooked dinner over a tiny camping stove, talking about old memories to keep our nerves in check.

I kept glancing at the window, half expecting to see a face peering back. My friend teased me for being jumpy, but his eyes darted around too. The truth was, we both knew we were out there on our own. No help for miles, no cell service. Just us and the unending forest. When we finally decided to call it a night, I shut off the lantern and the cabin slipped into an inky darkness.

I kept glancing at the window, half expecting to see a face peering back. My friend teased me for being jumpy, but his eyes darted around too. The truth was, we both knew we were out there on our own. No help for miles, no cell service. Just us and the unending forest. When we finally decided to call it a night, I shut off the lantern and the cabin slipped into an inky darkness.

I lay on my bunk, ears attuned to every sound outside. The wind brushed against the cabin walls, making them groan like they might collapse. a couple of times i heard faint cracks in the distance could have been branches falling could have been wild life my mind kept conjuring images of figures lurking among the trees the kind of thoughts you don't want but can't stop

I lay on my bunk, ears attuned to every sound outside. The wind brushed against the cabin walls, making them groan like they might collapse. a couple of times i heard faint cracks in the distance could have been branches falling could have been wild life my mind kept conjuring images of figures lurking among the trees the kind of thoughts you don't want but can't stop