Wrong Turn

In a small town surrounded by thick, endless woods, there was an old legend that people whispered about. It was about a lonely road hidden deep in the forest, a place called Shallow Ville. The older folks warned that whoever went there never came back. Some said it was cursed. Others believed something terrible lived there, waiting in the darkness.

But young people never listened to warnings.

One cold evening, three friends—King, Cecil, and Rosemarie—sat in a diner, eating fries and talking about scary stories.

“I bet the legend is just fake,” King said, dipping a fry in ketchup. “People just like to scare each other.”

Cecil raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Then why does nobody go there? Even the police avoid it.”

Rosemarie leaned forward. “My cousin told me that once, a group of hikers went in and only one came back. He was never the same after that. He kept saying, ‘The shadows have eyes.’”

King laughed. “That sounds like a good horror movie, not real life.” He smirked. “Let’s go check it out.”

Cecil and Rosemarie exchanged nervous glances.

“You’re joking, right?” Cecil asked.

“Nope,” King said. “Let’s prove there’s nothing to be scared of. Just a short drive, a quick look, and then we head home.”

Rosemarie hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But if something creepy happens, I’m blaming you.”

Minutes later, they piled into King’s old car and set off. The sky was dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The road was empty, and as they drove farther from town, the streetlights disappeared.

The trees around them grew taller, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers. The air became colder.

Cecil hugged her arms. “Why does it feel... weird out here?”

Rosemarie checked her phone. “No signal.”

King waved a hand. “Relax, we’re not even there yet.”

But as they drove deeper, the road became narrow, cracked, and uneven. King checked the map on his phone.

“Uh... that’s weird,” he muttered.

“What?” Cecil asked.

“The GPS just... stopped working.”

Rosemarie’s stomach tightened. “Maybe we should turn back.”

“No way,” King said. “We came all this way. Let’s keep going.”

They pressed on, but the road twisted strangely, like it was leading them in circles. The trees thickened, their branches forming a tangled roof above them. The car’s headlights barely pierced the growing darkness.

Then, the engine sputtered.

King cursed, gripping the wheel. The car trembled, then died. The lights flickered and went out.

Silence.

The three friends sat frozen.

“Try again,” Cecil whispered.

King turned the key. Nothing.

Rosemarie’s voice shook. “I don’t like this.”

A soft whisper drifted through the trees.

Cecil gasped. “Did you hear that?”

King’s throat went dry. “It’s just the wind.”

But then, another whisper. Closer.

Rosemarie grabbed King’s arm. “We need to go.”

King nodded. They pushed the doors open and stepped out. The air was thick and heavy. The cold wrapped around them like icy hands.

Then, ahead of them, a light flickered through the trees.

“A house?” Cecil whispered.

It was faint, but it was there—a glow in the distance.

Rosemarie swallowed. “What if someone lives there? Maybe they have a phone.”

King hesitated, then nodded. “Better than standing here.”

They moved toward the light, their footsteps crunching on fallen leaves. The deeper they went, the quieter the forest became. No animals. No wind. Just their breathing.

Then, they saw it.

An old mansion, tall and broken, hidden among the trees. The windows were dark, the roof covered in dead vines. The wooden doors stood slightly open.

Rosemarie stepped back. “This is a bad idea.”

King took a deep breath. “We just ask for help. Then we leave.”

Cecil shivered. “I don’t like this.”

But King was already walking up the steps. The others followed, their hearts pounding.

Inside, the air was stale, filled with dust and something rotting.

Cecil covered her nose. “It stinks.”

The floor creaked under their feet. Faint candlelight flickered down the long hallway.

“Hello?” King called. His voice echoed.

No answer.

They walked deeper inside. The walls were covered in old paintings. The faces seemed to watch them.

A soft sound drifted from upstairs. A whisper.

Rosemarie grabbed Cecil’s hand. “Let’s go.”

But King was already climbing the stairs. “Just a quick look.”

Cecil groaned. “You always have to be brave.”

The stairs moaned as they reached the top. A long hallway stretched before them, doors lining each side.

Then, one door creaked open by itself.

Rosemarie whimpered. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

King swallowed hard. “We’ve come this far.”

He stepped inside.

The room was filled with old furniture covered in white sheets. A cracked mirror stood in the corner.

Cecil’s skin prickled. “This place feels... wrong.”

Rosemarie pointed. “Look.”

In the center of the room was a wooden chair. A mannequin sat in it, dressed in an old suit. Its head was tilted, and its blank face seemed to stare.

King laughed nervously. “Okay, that’s creepy.”

Then the mannequin moved.

Its head snapped toward them.

The friends screamed.

The room went black.

Whispers filled the air, growing louder. Footsteps pounded around them. The door slammed shut.

Something breathed behind them.

“RUN!” King shouted.

They scrambled to the door, yanking it open. The hallway was different now—longer, darker, twisting like a maze.

They ran, their own screams echoing around them. The walls stretched and shifted.

Cecil sobbed. “Where’s the exit?!”

A shadow moved ahead. A figure stood at the end of the hallway.

Not human.

Its eyes glowed. Its mouth stretched into an unnatural grin.

It spoke.

“Stay.”

The voice was deep, wrong, filling their heads like a nightmare.

Rosemarie screamed. King grabbed her hand and yanked her backward. They stumbled through a door—

And fell.

Fell into nothingness.

Then—

A blinding light.

They were outside. The car was there. The mansion was gone.

The trees were still. The road was normal again.

Panting, they stumbled to the car.

King tried the key. The engine roared to life.

They sped away, never looking back.

Only when they reached town did they dare to breathe.

Cecil whispered, “Did that really happen?”

Rosemarie hugged herself. “I don’t want to know.”

King gripped the wheel. “We tell no one.”

And they never did.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, when the wind was still, they could hear it—

A whisper in the dark.

Waiting.