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The Forest of Souls

a campfire story

By Christopher LuchiesPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 5 min read
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Though the cabin seemed small, it held a great secret

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A flickering light cast out among the trees, bringing shadows to life. We know that the wood was unlit for a reason, the shadows unstirred by law. 

A boy, no older than twelve, shuddered as he closed the thick wool curtains against the rest of the world. He was the latest sent into the forest to seek its heart. None before had returned. This boy knew his fortunes might be the same. 

As the boy looked around the cabin, he noticed the cobwebs filling every nook and cranny. Dust coated the floor except for the trail of footprints leading to where he stood. The boy brushed his arms, hoping to coax some warmth back into them. 

Before beginning the trek to the cabin, the boy tied his childhood doll to the boundary line, his just another in a long line of hung dolls. As he stepped past the boundary line into the forest, he immediately noticed how the hot summer day became instantly colder. This was the first warning.

As he trekked further into the center of the forest, all sounds became quieter until there was absolute silence. No birds chirped overhead, no wind whistled the trees, no animals moved through the underbrush. It was a silence so absolute that his steps became loud booms on the forest floor, his blood a flood in his veins, his every breath a roar. The ground itself seemed to boil under his feet and ash rose into the air. This was the second warning.

One building stood out amongst the sentinels all around, a pristine wood cabin set in a small clearing. Though it was the middle of the day, darkness loomed above the cabin as dark as night. This was his final warning. 

Through the door was a staircase leading down into nothingness. To the right was a living area where the candle remained unlit and the boy could barely see a dining room past the couches. Each step the boy took through the cabin was accompanied with the same inhale and exhale from the trees. He heard them breathing at the same time he heard his own blood coursing through his body. It was a raspy breath, like wind through a sharp crack in a window. 

Inhale. Exhale. A flicker as the candle burst to light.

The light from the candle stretched the boy’s shadow ahead of him as he worked his way into the dining room. One last step and one more breath. Then, the boy was left in dead silence. Not even the forest’s breath touched this room. 

The dining room would have been normal if it wasn’t for the skeletons scattered around the room. Heads were separated from their bodies. The boy covered his mouth as he nearly heaved his stomach out from the stench of fetid rot. 

The ground was discolored at his feet from where one of these skeletons had done the same. The boy gathered his courage and took another step. 

“Leave this place.” 

“Forget yourself!” 

“Drop and run!” 

“Don’t do this!” 

“Save yourself!” 

Death is near.” 

“Can’t outrun…” 

“The shadows grow.”

Eight voices called out at once. The boy dropped to the ground covering his ears as once, and again, the voices whispered their warnings.

A blink. Inhale. Exhale.

The silence returned except for the breath from the trees. The room was empty. He was alone. 

In front of him, the dining room was void of death and, as he spun to look behind him, there was no discoloration on the floor. The candle still flickered as the boy stood. The flicker matching the forest’s breath.

Inhale. Exhale. A blink. 

The cabin was ablaze, burning and bright. Heat pressed in on all sides. The candle lay on the ground, melted wax seeping into the floorboards. The boy ran for the front door, but was met by a blast of heat and flame from the hallway.

The boy felt his skin boil, his eyes melting. He tore at his clothes as they ignited. 

A blink. Silence. Inhale. Exhale. Fear.

The boy’s heartbeat resounded through the empty cabin, a thump that echoed with each shaking step. He saw the door to freedom and the stairs leading down. The shadows were being held back by the candle. As he stumbled forward, he took hold of the wax stick and held it in front of himself as a shield.

Inhale. Exhale. Thump. 

The boy was staring down the staircase with the candle in hand, wax burning him as it dripped. Darkness beckoned him forward, deeper into the mystery. The tiny flame tried to shed the darkness as each step creaked, but the room below remained in inky blackness. The boy’s eyes burned as he tried his best not to blink. Why was he trying not to blink? 

Inhale. Thump. Exhale. A blink. 

The stairs were gone, an endless void beneath him as his arms flailed, trying to find purchase. He was falling and there was no bottom. His heart ached as his muscles tensed for what was to come. The wind rushed past him in a howl like every wolf looking at the moon at once. 

A blink. Thump. 

He knelt at the bottom of the stairs as the darkness crowded in around the candlelight. Shelves lined the walls, specimens floating in viscous liquid adorning them. Somewhere to his left, a shuffle. The boy turned but only saw himself in a mirror. His face was pale, drained of blood, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hair tousled and wild. He looked like he had been running for miles without a break.

Inhale. Exhale. Thump. A blink.

The shadows rose behind the boy, coalescing into a dark, humanoid form. Shadows stacked upon shadows clawing for purchase atop one another. Two eyes set in a gaunt face stared out from the shadows as the boy saw hands on either side of his head. He spun to find the basement empty. The darkness was far away from the flickering candle. He turned back to the mirror.

Inhale. A blink.

The pain wrenched through the boy as his head spun off his shoulders. His eyes were wide open, watching the shadow holding his head in the mirror. His body thumped to the floor, and he blinked.

Exhale.

Every thump up the staircase came knowing that his head was not connected to his body. He was still conscious, taking in everything as the shadow took his body into the dining room. Sitting amongst the other skeletons, the boy watched as the light outside appeared and disappeared hundreds of times. 

A blink. 

A girl stood in the living area shivering, staring around. A candle flickering in the window of the abandoned cabin as the boy watched in horror as it all started again. 

urban legend
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About the Creator

Christopher Luchies

The grass wilts, yet stories stay the same. The oceans dry, but stories are still told. The earth may change, but we will never forget. There is an art that will trancend all.

Words are impactful, and thus, I will write!

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

  3. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  1. Eye opening

    Niche topic & fresh perspectives

  2. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (3)

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  • Kathleen Smith2 years ago

    Captivating! Fast paced and interesting. Great work.

  • Odin Love2 years ago

    An amazing story! I can easily see this turning into some type of movie script and get a lot of attention! Keep it up and good luck!

  • Sarah Luchies2 years ago

    I enjoy the progression of the boy's journey from outside the forest to down in the enclosed basement, giving an feeling of slowly being trapped, the world cut off. Then, and only then, is he killed.

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