The air in the village had changed.
It wasn't just heavy, it was wrong.
The light dimmed unnaturally, like something in the sky had smothered the sun's warmth. The trees whispered now, not with wind, but with... something else. Something listening.
Mr. Renner ended the call with the local authorities with trembling fingers. "We'll send someone," they said. But he knew from their tone they wouldn't. Not here. Not in this village.
Three students. Gone.
First Mark. Then Anna. Then Lucas.
All without a trace.
And the rest of the class?
Silent. Frozen. Eyes darting like hunted animals in a cage that kept shrinking by the minute.
The room in the old inn was thick with tension. Not just fear, anticipation. Like the walls themselves were waiting to see who would be taken next.
Then the whispers began.
"Do you hear that?"
"I heard it last night. A voice. Calling."
"It said my name."
"I saw Mark outside… but his face wasn't right."
Someone sobbed in the corner. Another girl sat rocking back and forth, muttering a lullaby to herself under her breath.
Mr. Renner slammed a chair back. "Enough! Enough of this madness!"
He tried to hide it, but his voice cracked.
"These stories, they're not real. They're folklore. Warnings made up to scare children. Do you hear me? There's no such thing as a haunted cabin. There's no such thing as a curse."
But as he spoke, the inn's fireplace suddenly died not dimmed, but snuffed out.
The air turned ice-cold.
The floor creaked.
A breathless silence fell.
And then… a child's giggle echoed from the hallway.
There were no children in the hallway.
Mr. Renner swallowed hard. "Stay inside. No one leaves this inn. I'll go find them. I will bring them back."
But he never came back.
He searched the woods, asking the villagers for help, desperate, pleading.
"You shouldn't be here anymore," one woman said, barely meeting his eyes.
Another old man touched his shoulder. "The woods took them. That place… it feeds. The more you fight, the faster it chews."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Renner barked, anger masking the shiver in his spine.
"The cabin," the man whispered. "It waits. It listens. And when it chooses you, it doesn't just take your body, it takes your face, your voice, your soul."
He shook his head violently. "This is superstition. Fairy tales."
"No," came a voice behind him, this one breathless and cracked. "Folklore comforts. This... this is rot wearing skin."
They turned from him like a funeral procession. Silent. Mourning. Pity in their eyes.
He left them. But in the corner of his vision, he swore he saw someone watching from behind a tree, a face too familiar.
Mark.
But his mouth was sewn shut.
He blinked. Gone.
And only one place remained unsearched.
The cabin.
Night fell. The inn remained silent. No footsteps returned.
The students waited. And waited.
But their teacher never returned.
In the early hours of the next morning, as shadows still stretched unnaturally across the floorboards, whispers slithered through the group once more.
"He went into the forest."
"I heard a villager say… he went to the cabin."
"That means he's gone too."
Adrian stood, pale and shaking, but determined. "If we don't go after him, no one will. Tomorrow, we go."
"No," Mia's voice pierced the room like a blade. "We don't."
Everyone turned. She hadn't spoken since Anna vanished.
"Have you all gone mad? The villagers warned us. And my parents warned me long before we ever came here. If you go there, you don't come back. Not as yourself. Sometimes not at all."
Some students stared. Others scoffed.
"You sound like them," Lila said bitterly. "Are you just scared or do you not care?"
"She's just trying to stop us," another said. "She's always been quiet. Weird."
Mia's fists trembled at her sides. "You don't understand. The cabin isn't just haunted. It remembers. It marks. Every step toward it is a step into your own grave."
Adrian frowned. "Then let's vote."
They did.
Seventeen for going.
Six against.
Mia lost.
That night, Mia lay in bed, the inn walls groaning like something alive. Outside, she could hear something moving, footsteps too slow to be human… dragging.
She pressed the blanket over her mouth to muffle her scream.
Then came the whisper against her window:
"Mia..."
She didn't move. She didn't breathe.
A soft knock.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
Her parents' warnings replayed in her head:
"If the cabin calls your name… don't answer."
"If you hear knocking, don't open."
"If they come in your friend's skin don't look at their eyes."
"If it asks you what you want most, run."
"And never, ever follow the voice that sounds like me."
She wept quietly into the sheets.
Tomorrow, they would walk toward something none of them could understand.
And the cabin would be waiting.
Smiling.