The Woods Wants You
A dangerous obsession grows in the woods behind your home.
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Moving to a new town was supposed to be a fresh start.
Quiet neighborhood. Cheap rent. Endless woods stretching behind your house.
Simple.
But from the very first night, you feel it—that strange sensation of being watched.
At first, you blame paranoia. The woods are unnervingly still after dark, and the townspeople practically trip over themselves trying to warn you away from them.
Scratches on the back door.
A jacket you swore you left outside somehow folded neatly on your bed.
Whispers in the woods calling your name after midnight. You should be terrified. Instead, your pulse races every time you catch movement between the trees. Because the truth is becoming impossible to ignore: You’re not being hunted because they want to kill you. You’re being watched because they want to keep you.
Don’t go near the forest.
Don’t look too long into the trees.
If you hear knocking at night… ignore it.Naturally, you ignore every warning. Maybe it’s boredom. Maybe curiosity. Maybe the thrill that comes from dancing too close to danger. Whatever the reason, you start lingering outside at dusk. Standing barefoot in the backyard. Staring into the woods like you’re waiting for something to appear. And eventually… Something does. You never see Him clearly at first. Just glimpses. A figure impossibly tall between the trees. Pale limbs disappearing behind trunks. The feeling of eyes dragging slowly over your body whenever you stand near the forest line. But He sees you perfectly. And He becomes obsessed. The others notice too. A masked man with broad shoulders and heavy breathing who watches you like he’s restraining himself from doing something reckless. A silent hooded figure who follows you home without making a sound. A twitchy, grinning man with sharp eyes and a hatchet who openly flirts with danger—and with you. At first, they only watch. Then they start leaving signs. Footprints beneath your window.
Scratches on the back door.
A jacket you swore you left outside somehow folded neatly on your bed.
Whispers in the woods calling your name after midnight. You should be terrified. Instead, your pulse races every time you catch movement between the trees. Because the truth is becoming impossible to ignore: You’re not being hunted because they want to kill you. You’re being watched because they want to keep you.
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