The Cult

In a small, quiet town called Oakwood, there lived a brave detective named Diego. He had kind eyes, strong hands, and a heart full of courage. People in Oakwood trusted him. If something bad happened, they always called Diego.

One sunny morning, a woman ran into Diego’s office, crying loudly.

“My daughter is missing!” she shouted. “She went out to play and never came back!”

Diego stood up quickly. “When did you last see her?” he asked.

“Yesterday evening. She was playing near the woods.”

“I’ll find her,” Diego said calmly. “I promise.”

That same afternoon, two more families came to his office.

“My son didn’t come home last night,” said one father. “He always comes home by six.”

“My twins are missing too!” cried a mother. “They were riding their bikes!”

Diego\'s face grew serious. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

He took out a notebook and started writing names and times.

“I need to ask you all some questions,” he said. “Anything you can remember might help.”

He talked to the parents, the neighbors, and even the children’s teachers.

Everyone said the same thing—the children were last seen near the forest at the edge of town.

“That forest is strange,” said Mr. Lewis, an old man who lived nearby. “Even the birds don’t sing there.”

Mrs. Hale added, “I hear noises from there at night. Like whispers.”

“I heard chanting once,” said a teenager. “It sounded scary.”

The next morning, Diego packed a flashlight, a map, a rope, and some food. He put on his boots and coat and walked toward the forest. The trees were tall, their branches long and twisted. The sky seemed darker above the forest.

“This place is not normal,” Diego muttered.

He followed a small path, stepping over roots and stones. Hours passed. The deeper he went, the quieter it got. No birds. No wind. Just silence.

Then he noticed something—a path behind thick bushes.

He pulled the bushes aside and saw a narrow, rocky trail. Carefully, he followed it.

Soon, Diego saw an old mansion. It looked empty and dead. The windows were broken. Ivy covered the walls. The door creaked in the wind.

He felt a chill. “Something’s wrong here,” he said softly.

He got closer and suddenly heard strange chanting. It was low and slow, like a song in a language he didn’t know.

He crouched near the wall and peeked through a crack.

Inside, people in black robes stood around a fire. Their faces were hidden. In the center of the room was a stone table—an altar. Several children lay there, eyes wide with fear.

Diego’s heart raced. “A cult…” he whispered. “I have to save them.”

He moved around the mansion, staying low. At the back, he found a broken window just big enough to crawl through.

Inside, it was dark and dusty. The floor creaked. The air smelled of smoke and old wood.

Suddenly, he heard a soft voice.

“Help… please…”

He followed the sound and found a locked door. He pulled out a hairpin and picked the lock.

Click.

The door opened.

The missing children were tied up inside. They looked scared and tired.

“Shh,” Diego said. “I’m here to help you.”

A little boy looked up. “Are you a policeman?”

“I’m a detective. You’re safe now.”

He untied their ropes and helped them stand.

“Follow me quietly. We’ll go out through the window.”

“Thank you,” whispered a girl, holding his hand tightly.

They tiptoed through the hallway.

Just as the first child climbed out the window, loud voices rang out.

“Stop them!” a robed figure shouted.

More cult members ran into the room.

Diego pushed the children forward. “Go! Run to the trees!”

He turned and blocked the way.

One man charged at Diego. Diego dodged and punched him. Another grabbed Diego’s coat, but Diego kicked him away.

The children screamed and ran.

Diego fought with all his strength. He grabbed a stick and swung it. He was outnumbered, but he didn’t stop.

“Keep going!” he shouted.

A robed woman tried to grab a boy, but Diego threw a chair at her. “Leave them alone!”

One by one, the children escaped.

Finally, Diego jumped out the window too. “Run! This way!”

They ran into the woods, leaves crunching under their feet. Voices shouted behind them.

“Don’t look back!” Diego yelled.

The forest seemed endless. But then, in the distance, they saw light.

“There! That’s the road!”

The children ran faster, holding each other’s hands.

Diego looked back. No one was following.

“We’re safe now,” he said, breathing hard.

A little girl looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

When they reached town, people came running.

“My baby!” cried a mother.

“You’re back!” a father shouted, hugging his son.

Families hugged, cried, and laughed.

One child pointed at Diego. “He saved us!”

People gathered around Diego.

“You’re a hero!”

“Thank you!”

“You saved our children!”

Diego looked at the happy faces. He felt tired but proud.

“I’m just glad they’re safe,” he said.

That night, the town’s police followed Diego’s directions and found the mansion. They arrested the cult members and rescued two more children hiding in a dark room. The cult was stopped forever.

The next day, the mayor invited Diego to the town hall.

“We are grateful,” the mayor said. “You saved lives. You saved Oakwood.”

Everyone clapped. Children drew pictures of Diego and gave him cookies.

From that day, people called him The Hero of Oakwood. Wherever he went, people smiled at him. Children waved. Even dogs barked happily.

Diego kept working as a detective. He still helped with small problems—lost pets, stolen bikes, missing keys—but he always remembered the day he saved the children from the dark forest.

And so, Oakwood stayed safe, peaceful, and happy—under the watchful eyes of Detective Diego.