The Flicker

They told us not to go into the woods at night. But who couldn’t resist?

 

The sky was darkening when Nora, Sam, and I grabbed our flashlights and headed out. The woods stretched beyond the old fence at the end of town, where they met an endless sea of black trees, twisted like reaching hands.

 

"Just don't look back," said Sam, grinning with that daredevil smile of his. But his voice cracked a little when he said it.

 

"Who told you that?" Nora asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

 

"Just...everyone," he said. "They say if you turn around, you’ll see something you don’t want to see."

 

Nora and I exchanged uneasy glances, but we didn't argue. Even though we all tried to act tough, we felt the chill in the air, heard the silence swallowing up our footsteps. We were about a mile in when we saw the light for the first time.

 

It was faint, flickering between the trees like a candle being carried just out of reach. Too steady to be a firefly, too pale to be a flashlight. And it was moving—leading us deeper, away from the path.

 

"Let’s follow it," Sam said, his voice barely a murmur now.

 

Against all sense, we did.

 

The light seemed to hover in the distance, always staying just out of reach. Every so often, it would flicker and disappear, only to reappear farther along, as if waiting for us. The trees grew thicker around us, branches clawing at our arms, the path growing narrower, winding deeper into the darkness.

 

"Maybe we should go back," Nora said after a while. Her voice shook, and I could see her glancing back over her shoulder, the way you do when you think something's watching you.

 

But Sam didn't answer. He was focused on the light, his face blank, his eyes glazed as if he were in a trance. I reached out to grab his arm, but he shook me off without looking at me. I almost called his name, but something told me not to make a sound.

 

After what felt like hours, we reached a small clearing. The light floated there, bobbing up and down like it was...waiting. And then, slowly, it began to dim, flickering out until there was nothing but darkness.

 

That’s when we heard it. Rustling in the leaves around us, the snap of twigs. Something was moving, circling us, closing in. I tried to turn, but Nora grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in like claws.

 

"Don't look back," she whispered, her voice trembling.

 

The rustling grew louder, and a foul smell drifted through the air, thick and rotten, like something long dead. My heart pounded as the shadows around us seemed to deepen, taking shape, forming outlines that were almost...human. Almost.

 

A chill swept over us, and then I felt it—a breath on the back of my neck. Warm, wet, and close.

 

I couldn't help it. I turned.

 

Standing there, inches from my face, was a figure. Its eyes were hollow, black holes that seemed to suck the light from around them, and its mouth was twisted into a grin that stretched too wide, showing too many teeth. I wanted to scream, but the sound died in my throat.

 

And then it leaned closer, so close I could feel its cold breath, its whispered words filling my ears.

 

"Turn around," it hissed.

 

I stood frozen, unable to pull away. Its words slid into my ears like ice water, rooting me to the ground. The figure loomed closer, so close that I could make out something moving beneath the paper-thin skin stretched over its face. It was as if shadows were alive beneath its flesh, writhing, shifting, reaching.

 

It leaned in, bringing its empty eyes inches from mine. I couldn’t tear myself away. I wanted to look back at Nora and Sam, to see if they were still with me, but every fiber of my being screamed that I shouldn’t—that I couldn’t.

 

“Turn around,” it repeated, its voice crawling over my skin like centipedes.

 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I gasped, snapping back to myself. Nora was there, her face pale as she gripped me, eyes wide with terror.

 

“We have to go,” she whispered. “Now.”

 

But Sam was still standing, staring ahead, his eyes fixed on something just beyond us in the darkness. He looked almost like he was sleepwalking, his face blank and his eyes glassy. I reached out to grab him, to shake him out of whatever trance he was in, but he took a step back, his gaze unfocused, fixed on something only he could see.

 

The figure smiled wider, its teeth long and sharp, like needles gleaming in the faint light that leaked through the trees. It stretched out a hand, bony and long, reaching for Sam. And Sam…he didn’t pull away.

 

“Sam!” I cried, finally finding my voice. He didn’t respond, didn’t flinch. It was as if he didn’t even hear me. He took another step backward, his eyes locked with the creature’s hollow gaze.

 

With a sickening, twisted motion, the figure’s hand clamped down on Sam’s shoulder, pulling him close. Sam’s face went slack, his body limp, as if something was draining the life out of him right in front of us.

 

“No!” Nora shouted, finally breaking the silence. She lunged forward, her hand reaching out to grab Sam, but the figure jerked its head toward her, snarling. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in its empty eyes—some spark of recognition or hatred, a hint of malice that went beyond simple hunger. Nora froze, her arm outstretched, her face twisted in terror.

 

Then the thing did something I’ll never forget. It laughed—a dry, hollow sound that rattled through the clearing like dead leaves in the wind.

 

The laughter faded, and for a moment, everything was silent. Then the figure leaned close to Sam, whispering something in his ear, so low that neither Nora nor I could hear. Sam’s face twisted, his eyes widening in horror as he listened. His body trembled, and he tried to pull away, but the figure’s grip tightened.

 

I didn’t wait to see what would happen next. I grabbed Nora’s arm, yanking her back, and together we stumbled into the trees, running as fast as we could. Branches clawed at our skin, the darkness swallowing us as we fled, but we didn’t dare look back. The memory of that hollow-eyed grin, those sharp teeth, drove us forward, deeper into the maze of trees.

 

We ran until we couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of our own footsteps, until our lungs burned, and our legs ached. Finally, we collapsed in a small clearing, gasping for breath. The silence was oppressive, the darkness around us thick and heavy. And then…we realized.

 

Sam was gone.

 

Nora looked at me, her face twisted with guilt and horror.

 

“We left him,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We left him with that…thing.”

 

I didn’t have an answer. I was too afraid to even think about what might have happened to Sam, what that figure might have done to him.

 

But then…we heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps, approaching from the direction we had just come.

 

“Nora…” I whispered, my voice trembling.

 

She looked at me, eyes wide with fear, and nodded. We pressed ourselves against a tree, trying to hide, as the footsteps drew closer. And then, through the shadows, we saw him.

 

It was Sam.

 

He was walking slowly, his movements stiff and unnatural, as if he were being pulled by invisible strings. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, and his lips twisted into a strange, empty smile.

 

“Sam?” Nora called out, her voice shaking. She stepped forward, reaching out to him. “Sam, are you okay?”

 

He didn’t respond. He just kept walking; his eyes fixed on something in the distance. He passed right by us, as if he didn’t even see us.

 

“Sam!” I shouted, grabbing his arm.

 

He stopped, but he didn’t turn to look at me. His skin was ice-cold beneath my hand, and I felt a shiver run through me. Slowly, he turned his head, his empty eyes meeting mine.

 

“They’re waiting,” he said, his voice low and hollow. “They’re always waiting.”

 

With that, he pulled his arm free from my grip and started walking again, disappearing into the trees. We called after him, but he didn’t stop, didn’t look back.

 

When his figure finally faded into the darkness, we stood there, frozen and terrified, until we could barely see each other in the night. I wanted to chase after him, to bring him back, but something in my gut told me that Sam was…gone. That whatever had returned to us wasn’t him anymore.

 

Nora looked at me, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror.

 

“What do we do now?” she whispered.

 

I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was that the woods were silent again, and that we were alone.

 

But then, from somewhere deep in the trees, we heard a voice. Sam’s voice, calling to us.

 

“Don’t look back,” it whispered.

 

We ran.

 

As Nora and I stumbled through the trees, the voice grew louder, echoing from all directions. It wasn’t just Sam’s voice anymore. It sounded… layered. Twisted. Like dozens of voices whispering together, overlapping, blending into one sickeningly familiar tone that called our names, promising safety if we’d only “come back.”

 

We ran until we burst out of the woods and into the open field that bordered town. The voices stopped as soon as we crossed the line where the trees met grass. It was as if something had snapped shut behind us, sealing whatever haunted the woods away from the rest of the world.

 

Back home, we tried to tell people what had happened, but no one believed us. Sam’s parents went to the police, but the search party found nothing. No sign of him, no sign of anything we’d seen in those woods. The town just accepted he’d run off.

 

But Nora and I knew. We knew Sam was still out there, somewhere deep in those woods, waiting, just like the thing had said. And the worst part was, even now, we’d hear his voice sometimes, especially at night. It would drift on the wind, soft and pleading.

 

“Don’t look back,” it would say, just before it would fade into the night.

 

The story might have ended there, if not for the dreams.

 

They started a few days after we left the woods. Every night, I’d dream of Sam standing in that clearing, his face blank, his eyes hollow, his mouth twisted into that empty smile. In the dream, he’d hold out his hand to me, whispering for me to come closer. And every night, I’d wake up gasping, my skin clammy with sweat, that foul smell lingering in the air.

 

One night, I called Nora, desperate for answers, hoping she wasn’t having the same dreams. But when she answered, her voice was low, tired.

 

“You’ve been dreaming of him too?” she whispered.

 

Neither of us slept that night.

 

A few weeks later, I got a call in the middle of the night. It was Nora, but she didn’t say anything. Just silence on the other end, broken only by her shallow breathing.

 

“Nora?” I whispered.

 

After a long pause, her voice came through, faint and broken. “He’s here.”

 

I didn’t ask questions. I grabbed my flashlight, threw on my shoes, and sprinted out the door, heart hammering in my chest. When I reached her house, I saw her standing in the yard, staring into the woods. Her face was pale, her eyes glassy, and she barely seemed to register me as I approached.

 

“He came back,” she murmured, her voice distant. “He was standing in my room, watching me. And then… he turned and walked back to the woods.”

 

I didn’t want to believe her, but the look in her eyes told me it was true. Something had come back for her. And maybe for me too.

 

Without another word, we stepped toward the edge of the woods, the flashlight trembling in my hand. We knew we shouldn’t go back, that nothing good waited for us there, but something stronger than fear was pulling us in.

 

The moment we crossed the line into the trees, the air grew cold, and the familiar smell hit us, sickly sweet and rotten. The trees seemed to close in around us, guiding us forward, leading us deeper into the dark.

 

And then we saw it—the flickering light, waiting in the distance, just as it had that night.

 

As we drew closer, the light took form, a familiar figure emerging from the shadows. Sam stood there, his face blank, his eyes empty, and his mouth twisted into that horrible smile.

 

But this time, he wasn’t alone. There were others with him, shapes drifting in the darkness, their hollow eyes watching us, their empty smiles stretching too wide.

 

Sam raised a hand, beckoning us closer.

 

“Come with us,” he whispered, his voice blending with the others. “We’re waiting.”

 

And as the shadows closed in around us, Nora and I took each other’s hands, knowing there was no escape.

 

Together, we stepped forward, into the flickering light.