The Mystery of the Woods
The wind rustled through a dense grove of scarlet oak as Travis, his wife Eve, and their 8-year-old son Robin wandered through the woods. They were gathering mushrooms for their evening meal—a tradition they had embraced since moving to Maine. The cooler, breezy climate was a welcome change after their scorching summers in Texas.
Maine’s peaceful, picturesque hills were perfect for Travis, who had struggled with health issues in the hot Texas heat. Doctors had recommended a move to a more temperate climate, and when his company offered him a transfer, Maine seemed like the ideal place to start fresh. Three months had passed since they’d settled into the quiet town, and that crisp autumn afternoon felt just like any other.
But that afternoon, Travis decided to venture deeper into the woods than they had before. He felt an inexplicable urge to explore a new part of the forest. As they followed a gravel path, Travis noticed that their Doberman, Brandy, was missing.
“He’s probably off to pee,” Travis thought, but when he heard the dog’s frantic barking from a distance, his calm turned to concern. The barking was loud and persistent, almost like the dog was in danger. Travis hurried toward the sound, pushing through thick grass. When he reached the source of the noise, he found Brandy cowering, his tail tucked between his legs.
“What is it, boy?” Travis called, trying to coax the dog toward him. But Brandy refused to move, continuing to bark and back away.
Travis followed the dog’s gaze, only to be stopped in his tracks by the sight before him—a cemetery, ancient and hidden deep within the woods. There were more than a hundred gravestones, some moss-covered and crumbling, while others stood proudly intact.
“Whoa, what is this place? An 1800s cemetery?” Travis muttered in disbelief. Eve and Robin caught up with him, looking equally perplexed.
“Travis, I don’t like this,” Eve said, her voice shaky. “This place… it feels wrong. Look at those antlers, those bones… what are those things?” She pointed at strange objects scattered around the graves—old voodoo dolls, broken pottery, and eerie trinkets. “Let’s go. This place is freaking me out.”
But before they could leave, Robin’s voice rang out, sharp with excitement. “Mom! Dad! Look! I found something! I found DAD’S PHOTO! Look!”
Travis and Eve’s hearts raced as they rushed toward Robin, who was standing beside a particularly weathered headstone. The grave was covered in dirt, but there was no mistaking it—the faded ceramic picture was unmistakably that of a young boy who looked just like Travis. The name beneath it read January 29, 1984—Travis’s exact birthdate.
Travis froze, his hand hovering over the photo, his mind reeling. “This doesn’t make sense. Why is my picture here?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “And I don’t remember wearing that yellow shirt as a kid…”
Eve grabbed his arm, her voice urgent. “Travis, let’s go home. This place… it’s not right. We’re not supposed to be here.” Her voice was thick with fear. “Did you see those dolls? Those bones? This is all wrong.”
Despite Eve’s pleas, Travis couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photo. He took a quick picture of the headstone on his phone, feeling a mix of confusion and dread.
As they hurried back to the jeep, Travis was lost in thought. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence. People have doppelgangers, right?” he muttered to himself. “But then again… why does this feel like more than that? Why does this picture feel like a clue?”
Eve noticed his growing anxiety. “Travis, you’re overthinking this. You don’t remember anything about your childhood. It’s probably just some random photo that looks like you. Stop worrying, okay? Let’s just go home and make dinner. It’s your turn to cook tonight.”
“But what if this is connected to my family?” Travis said, his voice low. “I don’t remember my parents, Eve. I was abandoned as a child, remember? Left on a church doorstep… Maybe this picture is a sign. Maybe it’s connected to my family… my real family. I need to find out.”
That night, Travis couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. The image of the headstone haunted him as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The more he thought about it, the more questions piled up. Who had left that photo? And why was it in the woods of a place he had never visited before?
The next day, determined to find answers, Travis began asking around the town. Some locals were visibly scared when he mentioned the cemetery, but one woman, an elderly widow named Lois Woods, seemed to know something. She was the oldest resident in town, and Travis and Eve were advised to seek her out for answers.
“Are you sure she’ll know anything? What if she just shuts the door on us like the others?” Eve asked, her voice tinged with doubt.
“She’s the oldest person in town. She has to know something,” Travis said, knocking firmly on her door. Lois opened it slowly, leaning on a cane.
“Yes, can I help you?” she asked, her voice thin with age.
“Hi, I’m Travis, and this is my wife, Eve. We moved here recently, and yesterday we stumbled upon an old cemetery in the woods. We found a grave with my picture on it. Do you know anything about it?” Travis asked, showing Lois the photo from the headstone.
Lois’s face drained of color, her eyes widening in fear. She immediately ushered them inside, slamming the door behind them.
“You shouldn’t be asking about that place,” Lois said, her voice trembling. “It’s not safe. You have children? It’s not safe to bring them near there.”
Travis and Eve exchanged uneasy glances. “We didn’t know anything about it,” Travis said. “Do you know why that place is abandoned? What’s with the headstones and the strange objects?”
Lois sighed heavily and began to speak in a hushed voice. “When I was a teenager, my grandmother told me about a cult that lived in those woods. They were a secret society, worshipping some dark deity. They performed strange rituals, even sacrifices, to appease their god. Some of the townsfolk believed they were involved in some kind of occult practices, but nobody knew for sure until the police raided them.”
“Wait,” Eve interjected, “Are you saying they killed children? Is that why the police shut them down?”
Lois nodded gravely. “Yes. But it was much worse than that. The cult kidnapped and sacrificed children—some said they even chose their next leader through these dark rituals. The police stormed their camp and arrested many of them, but some managed to escape into the forest. People started avoiding those woods after that.”
Travis’s heart raced. This was too close to the truth. He needed more answers. Lois continued.
“After the cult was gone, people thought the woods were cursed. Strange noises were heard by woodcutters, and some of them swore they saw things moving in the forest. My grandmother warned me never to go near those woods. But if you want answers, there’s someone you should talk to. His name is Teddy Sutton.”
Eve’s voice trembled as she asked, “Who is he?”
“Teddy’s father was the cop who led the raid on the cult. He knows more than anyone else. But he’s not an easy man to talk to. He keeps to himself and doesn’t like visitors,” Lois added. “But if anyone can help you, it’s him.”
With that information in hand, Travis and Eve set off to find Teddy. As they approached his house, a ramshackle cottage at the end of the lane, Eve hesitated.
“I don’t like this, Travis. What if we’re opening up something we can’t close? What if this is worse than we think?” she whispered, clutching his arm.
“We have to know,” Travis insisted. “We need to find out why my picture is on that grave. It’s the only way to get the answers.”
They knocked on the door, and an elderly man with a Bible in his hands opened it. His eyes were cold, and his voice was sharp.
“Yes?” he asked.
“We’re sorry to bother you,” Travis said, holding up his phone. “We need to know about the cult in the woods. Miss Lois said you could help.”
Teddy’s eyes flashed with recognition, and then fear. “What do you want with that?” he asked, pointing at the photo on Travis’s phone. He snatched it from Travis’s hand, zooming in on the young boy’s face.
“This boy…” Teddy stammered. “This is… it’s my brother, Shawn.”
“Shawn? Your brother?” Travis asked, his voice rising. “What does that have to do with me?”
Teddy took a shaky breath. “It’s all connected,” he whispered. “The boy in that photo… the cult… your mother… It’s all part of a twisted story that begins in the woods.”
