The Lurker in the Woods

It was supposed to be a peaceful getaway—just a weekend at the cabin with no phone service, no emails, and no distractions. Emily had been looking forward to the quiet for months. She needed the escape, to disconnect from the world and recharge in the middle of nowhere.

The cabin, tucked deep in the woods, was small but cozy. A single fireplace lit the living room, and the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the occasional wind whistling through the trees outside. It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

The first night passed without incident, though Emily found herself waking up several times, thinking she’d heard something moving outside. Each time, she would listen carefully, hearing nothing but the wind before drifting back to sleep. But the next morning, things started to feel… off.

She was sitting on the porch, sipping her coffee, when she noticed something strange. There were footprints in the dirt—large, uneven prints, leading from the edge of the woods directly toward the cabin, but stopping abruptly about ten feet from the porch. They weren’t hers. Emily hadn’t gone near the woods, and she’d seen no sign of anyone else around.

Her stomach tightened. “Probably an animal,” she muttered to herself, trying to brush off the uneasy feeling gnawing at her. But as the day wore on, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

By evening, the sense of unease had only grown stronger. The woods, which had seemed peaceful when she arrived, now felt oppressive. She kept glancing toward the trees, certain that something—or someone—was lurking just beyond her sight.

That night, the noises started again, but this time, they were closer. Soft crunches of leaves, twigs snapping, like footsteps circling the cabin. Emily lay in bed, her heart pounding in her chest as the sounds moved around the walls outside. The wind had stopped. The night was still, but the footsteps continued.

She grabbed her flashlight and, heart racing, crept to the window. Peeking through the curtains, she scanned the tree line, but saw nothing—just darkness and the silent, looming woods. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it all, until she heard a soft tapping on the window.

Her blood ran cold. She backed away from the window, breathing shallowly, the tapping continuing in slow, deliberate beats.

Tap… tap… tap.

With trembling hands, she unlocked her phone, only to see “No Service” flashing on the screen. Emily stood frozen in the middle of the room, her mind racing. She had two choices: stay inside, or run for her car. The tapping stopped, replaced by silence.

Then, the doorknob rattled.

She turned toward the door, her pulse spiking. The rattling grew louder, more frantic, as if someone was trying to force their way in. The door creaked under the pressure.

“Who’s there?” Emily called, her voice shaking.

The rattling stopped.

She held her breath, waiting. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. Slowly, she inched toward the door and pressed her ear against it, listening.

A low whisper came from the other side.

“Let me in…”

Emily stumbled back, her heart hammering in her chest. She grabbed her keys and bolted for the back door, flinging it open. She didn’t look back.

She ran through the trees, branches clawing at her arms as she fumbled her way to the car. The night was unnervingly quiet now, the only sound her own panicked breathing. She jumped into the driver’s seat, jamming the key into the ignition, and floored the gas.

As the car sped down the dirt road, she glanced in the rearview mirror. At the edge of the woods, barely visible in the dim moonlight, stood a figure. Tall, with hollow eyes and long limbs, watching her with an unnerving stillness.

And then, it slowly raised one hand, waving goodbye.

Emily didn’t stop driving until she reached the nearest town. She never went back to the cabin. But even now, she sometimes dreams of that figure standing at the edge of the woods, waiting.

Watching.

Always watching.