The forest was endless.
The man had been wandering for what felt like hours, days, maybe even longer. The gnarled branches stretched out like skeletal fingers, clawing at the fog-laced sky. Thick mist curled around his legs, making every step feel heavier than the last. The air smelled damp, rotting, as if the forest itself had been decaying for centuries.
He didn't know how he had ended up here. He remembered the road, the sun dipping behind the hills, the distant outline of a town — but then, the shadows had swallowed him whole. He had wandered deeper and deeper, convinced he could find a way out.
But there was no way out.
The realization gnawed at him as he stumbled forward, breath shallow. Every path twisted back onto itself. Every clearing led to another set of tangled trees. It was as if the forest was alive, shifting, laughing at his desperation.
Then he heard it.
A deep, wet breathing.
The man froze. His pulse pounded in his ears. He turned slowly, dread creeping into his bones.
From the darkness, something moved.
A figure — twisted and wretched — emerged from the shadows. It had the body of a decayed corpse, its flesh torn and rotting, barely clinging to its bones. A tattered cloak, shredded by time, hung loosely from its shoulders. But its head — its head — was the worst of all.
A Jack O' Lantern sat atop its shoulders, flickering with an eerie, pulsating glow. Its jagged mouth was locked in a wicked grin, and its hollow, carved eyes burned like dying embers.
The creature let out a rattling, guttural roar.
The man's breath hitched — then, instinct took over. He ran.
Branches whipped at his face, snagging at his sleeves as he tore through the undergrowth. The creature followed, its heavy, shuffling steps somehow impossibly fast. Leaves crunched underfoot, and the air filled with the sound of its ragged breathing.
Another roar shook the trees, deep and guttural, vibrating through the earth itself.
He ran harder.
Up ahead, movement. Another figure!
A person — another lost traveler!
The man opened his mouth to scream for help, but only a garbled, choked noise came out. His throat was dry, raw from fear. His desperate cry came out as a broken, wet roar, as if something inhuman had clawed its way out of his own lungs.
The person ahead didn't stop.
They only ran faster.
Confusion gripped him, but he had no time to think. His foot caught on a root. His body pitched forward.
The ground met him hard. His clothes tore against the jagged forest floor, fabric ripping away like old paper. He gasped in pain, rolling onto his hands and knees.
The creature was close now. He could hear it — could feel it — right behind him.
Adrenaline surged through his veins, and he scrambled to his feet, willing his aching legs to move.
But the forest was fighting him.
A cluster of thorny bushes clutched at his cloak, yanking him backward. He struggled, the fabric twisting, tearing. The ghoulish breath behind him grew closer. He wrenched himself free, leaving behind shreds of cloth tangled in the thorns.
Panting, he pushed forward, half-blind with terror.
Then —
SMACK!
His body slammed into something solid.
A tree.
Pain exploded through his skull as he stumbled backward, dazed. Above him, something rustled.
And then —
A Jack O' Lantern plummeted from the branches.
It struck his head, knocking him off balance.
For a moment, everything went dark.
His ears rang. His limbs felt weightless, detached.
He staggered forward, hands clawing at the thing now stuck on his head. The carved eyes of the Jack O' Lantern turned everything into a haze of orange light, his vision blurred by the flickering glow inside it.
But the ghoul — the terrible, grinning ghoul — was gone.
The forest was eerily quiet.
Still gasping, he clawed at the pumpkin, trying to pry it off. The edges scraped against his skin, rough and unyielding. He stumbled through the trees, barely able to see, his fingers desperate to tear it off, tear it off, tear it off —
Then —
Movement.
Up ahead.
The same figure from before.
The man lifted his hands and shouted — "Help!"
The figure turned.
Their eyes widened in horror.
And they ran.
Confusion flooded his mind. "Wait!" he called, voice muffled inside the pumpkin. "Please!"
The figure didn't stop.
They sprinted faster, terror pushing them forward.
The man chased after them, his breath ragged. He didn't understand. Why were they running? Why —
A memory hit him like a thunderclap.
He had seen this before.
The running figure. The desperate calls. The roar of a throat too dry to scream.
The realization sent ice through his veins.
He wasn't chasing a stranger.
He was chasing himself.
Him — earlier in the day, lost and terrified, fleeing from the thing in the forest.
And now, he was the thing in the forest.
He tried to call out again, tried to explain, but the words were lost inside the Jack O' Lantern's hollow grin.
And so, with no other choice, he ran after himself —
Through the endless trees.
Through the choking fog.
Through the forest that never let anyone leave.