The Echo of the Woods

Jason had always been drawn to the forest. There was something calming about the ancient trees, the rustling of the leaves in the wind, and the scent of pine in the air. As a child, he would spend hours exploring the woods behind his family’s cabin, but as he grew older, life got in the way. Work, responsibilities, and the endless grind of adulthood took him away from the peace of the forest. But this weekend, Jason had returned.

He hadn’t been to the cabin in years. The place was falling apart—roof shingles missing, the paint chipped away by years of exposure to the elements—but the forest still called to him. He needed to reconnect, to find the stillness he had lost in the chaos of his life.

The first evening, Jason wandered through the trees as the sun dipped low on the horizon. He had a sense of nostalgia as he passed familiar landmarks—the old stone bench, the moss-covered rocks by the creek. He smiled to himself, remembering the days when he and his sister used to run through the woods, playing hide and seek, pretending to be adventurers.

But as the night settled in, something changed. The forest didn’t feel quite the same. The shadows seemed deeper, the trees taller and more oppressive. There was a strange weight in the air, a stillness that made Jason uneasy.

He shook off the feeling, attributing it to his imagination. The woods were old, after all. Maybe it was just his unfamiliarity after all these years. But then he heard it.

A voice.

A soft whisper on the breeze, almost indistinguishable from the rustling of the leaves. At first, Jason thought it was the wind, or perhaps an animal calling out. But the whisper came again, clearer this time—closer. It sounded almost like his name.

“Jason.”

He froze. He was alone. His mind raced. He glanced around the forest, but the trees were thick, the shadows deep. There was no one there.

“Jason,” the voice whispered again, more insistent this time.

Jason’s heart began to race. He knew no one else was in the forest—he hadn’t seen anyone since he arrived. His eyes scanned the trees nervously, his body tensing.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice trembling.

The voice responded, but this time, it wasn’t a whisper. It was louder—clearer.

“Jason, it’s time to come home.”

He stumbled backward, his pulse pounding in his ears. The words were chilling, unfamiliar. Something about them felt wrong, as though they had been spoken by someone who knew him, but who was not really him.

The voice didn’t stop. It grew louder, clearer, and it began to echo from every direction—like a chorus of voices, overlapping, repeating his name, calling him toward the heart of the forest.

Jason turned and ran. His feet pounded against the ground, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps. He darted between trees, heart racing, the echoes of his name following him, growing closer, louder, more desperate.

The voices swirled around him, tugging at his mind, at his very soul.

“Jason… come home… come home.”

He ran faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He stumbled over roots, his legs growing tired, but the voices pushed him forward. His mind was foggy, his thoughts jumbled. His body felt like it was moving on its own, pulled by some unseen force.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him gave way, and Jason found himself tumbling into the darkness.

He landed hard on his back, the air knocked out of his lungs. The forest was silent now, eerily quiet, and for a moment, Jason thought maybe he had imagined everything. Maybe it was just the isolation playing tricks on him.

But when he sat up, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

He was no longer in the woods. The trees were gone, replaced by a strange, foggy expanse. The air was thick with an oppressive stillness. A low hum vibrated in the air, like a forgotten melody playing just beneath the surface.

And standing before him, just within the fog, was a figure.

It was a silhouette at first, a shape that moved toward him, slowly, deliberately. As it came closer, Jason’s breath caught in his throat. The figure was wearing clothes he recognized—familiar clothes. His own.

The figure’s face was obscured by shadows, but Jason knew who it was. It was him. It was himself.

“Jason,” the figure said in a voice that was a perfect echo of his own. “It’s time to come home.”

Jason stumbled backward, panic rising in his chest. He tried to speak, but his voice was lost in the weight of the silence. The figure took a step closer, then another, until it was standing directly in front of him, close enough that Jason could feel its cold breath on his skin.

The figure’s eyes locked onto his—dark, empty eyes, filled with an unsettling emptiness. Jason reached out, but his hands passed right through it, as if the figure wasn’t really there, as if it was nothing more than a shadow.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him shifted again, and Jason was falling—faster, deeper, into a void of blackness. The figure’s voice echoed around him, getting louder, clearer, until it became a deafening roar.

“Come home, Jason.”

Then, with a violent jolt, Jason landed. But this time, there was no fog. No shadows. Just the dense, familiar trees of the forest. He was back where he started, near the edge of the woods.

Breathing heavily, he looked around, disoriented. The whispering voices had stopped, and the air felt different—lighter. But something in his gut told him that he wasn’t alone. That whatever it was that had called him here… it was still watching.

Jason ran back to the cabin without looking back. But as he crossed the threshold of the house, he heard it again—the faint whisper, like a distant memory, calling his name.

“Jason… come home.”

And he realized with a shiver that this wasn’t the first time the forest had called him. It wouldn’t be the last.