Blogtober 2025, Day 15: Love
Morning came gray and brittle. The woods looked harmless
again—thin trunks, wet leaves, a few tire ruts from hunters. Nothing monstrous
about them at all. Yet every sound felt wrong: the breeze too soft, the
birdsong too careful, as though the town itself was pretending.
Sarah sat on the hood of Mark’s car outside the diner,
stirring sugar into a coffee she didn’t want. The paper cup trembled in her
hand. “We should tell someone,” she said. “The sheriff, maybe.”
Mark shook his head. “And say what? That a ghost kidnapped
Emily and the trees applauded?”
Tyler, pale and hollow-eyed, stared out the window toward
the tree line. “People disappear all the time. Maybe this place eats them.”
The waitress, a woman in her sixties, overheard as she
poured refills. “You kids talking about Lucy’s Path?” she asked. Her smile
didn’t reach her eyes. “My brother used to walk out there. Said he heard
singing. Said it made him feel loved.”
Sarah froze. “Loved?”
The woman nodded, tapping her spoon against the counter.
“That’s how it gets you. You think it loves you back.”
Mark glanced at Tyler. “The hum,” he murmured. “It felt
warm. Like it wanted us close.”
The waitress’s gaze drifted toward the window. “That’s how
it starts,” she said quietly. “And once it knows your name, it never stops
calling.”
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