Blogtober 2025, Day 11: Celebrate
The forest trembled as the red glow flared brighter, pulsing
like a signal. Mark stumbled back, shielding his eyes. “We’ve got to move,” he
said, but the ground felt slick beneath him—mud rippling as though something
massive stirred below.
Tyler’s flashlight caught movement near the base of the oak.
A shape emerged, crawling from the soil—small, delicate fingers pressing
through the dirt. Then another, and another. Dozens of them.
Sarah screamed. “They’re coming out!”
The hands gripped the roots, pulling shapes into
view—children, pale and empty-eyed, faces slick with earth. They looked like
Lucy, and yet not. Their mouths moved in unison, whispering her name as if in
prayer.
Mark grabbed Sarah’s wrist and ran, dragging her down the
path. Tyler followed, choking back a sob. Behind them, the whispers grew
louder, building into a chorus. It didn’t sound angry—it sounded joyful,
feverish, as though the woods had gathered to celebrate a long-awaited return.
Branches tore at their clothes. Ribbons whipped through the
air like veins coming alive. The chanting shifted again, and Mark realized they
weren’t saying Lucy anymore. They were saying Emily.
The three broke into a clearing lit by a cold, silver glow.
At its center stood Emily, barefoot and still, the amulet gleaming in her hand.
She smiled faintly at them, her voice soft and wrong.
“She’s coming,” Emily said. “And she’s bringing us home.”
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