Silent Night, Silent Forest
1120 Words
It was supposed to be easy. Five guys, a few saws, and the kind of forest that no one dared to enter. We were just after a few trees, nothing more. Christmas was coming, and money was tight. We didn't care about the warnings. The restricted forest? A myth. Who would care about a few trees?
I'm not sure where everything went wrong. But I'll never forget the cold, the oppressive silence, and how it felt like we weren't alone.
We parked the truck just outside the rotting fence that marked the boundary of the forest. The trees stood dark and intimidating, but none of us cared. We had a job to do. The kind of quick cash that would get us through the holidays.
"Alright, let's get to work," Mark said. He was always the leader, the guy who got us into trouble, but also the guy who usually got us out of it.
We grabbed our saws and headed into the forest. The ground was slick with frost, and the towering trees cast long, jagged shadows in the dim light. The air was thick, almost suffocating, but I wasn't about to let that stop me.
"First tree's over there," Mark called, pointing toward a massive pine about twenty yards ahead.
We moved in pairs, cutting the trees down one by one. The first one fell with a loud c***k, the sound echoing through the forest like it was meant to wake something up. The second one wasn't any harder, just a few solid strokes, and it too toppled over, its branches crashing against the snow-covered ground.
I felt something then, something strange. The air felt wrong, the way it sometimes does just before a storm, when you can taste the electricity in the air. I brushed it off, figuring it was just nerves. But then there was the silence. The kind that fills your ears until they start to ring.
"Alright, drag it out," Mark said, his voice a little too sharp for my liking.
We tied the tree to the truck and were about to head deeper when I heard it. A snap, like a twig breaking underfoot. I turned quickly, expecting to see one of the guys just a few feet away, but there was nothing.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, looking at Kevin, who was right beside me.
He nodded, his expression tight. "Yeah. I don't like this. Something's off."
Before I could respond, there was a loud crash from further in the woods. Mark motioned for us to stay quiet, his face hard and focused.
"Stay close," he said. "It's just an animal."
But it didn't feel like just an animal. The noise had sounded too deliberate, too controlled. And right then- I saw it. A shape moving just beyond the trees, quick, too quick to be natural. It was large, maybe the size of a person, but it was fast, moving in a way that made my stomach twist.
"Did you see that?" Kevin whispered, his voice barely audible.
"I saw it," I said, my voice flat. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know, but we should get the hell out of here," Mark said, his usual confidence wavering.
But before anyone could move, we heard something worse. A scream. Short. Cut off.
"Adam!" Mark shouted, his voice cracking with panic.
We all spun toward the sound, but there was nothing. Not a trace. The snow was undisturbed, the trees just as still as they had been. But I knew. I knew something was wrong.
"Adam's gone," Kevin muttered, his face pale.
"Get it together," Mark snapped, but his hands were shaking as he gripped the saw. "We'll find him. He's gotta be around here somewhere."
We split up, calling for Adam, searching in every direction. But the longer we looked, the more I could feel the trees closing in on us, the oppressive weight of the forest pressing down. Something wasn't right.
And then, like clockwork, it happened again.
Kevin was standing just a few feet away from me when I heard him scream. It was a horrible sound, full of terror and pain. I spun around, but by the time I reached him, there was nothing. Just the hollow echo of his cry hanging in the air. The trees seemed to be mocking me, their long, twisted shadows stretching out in the growing darkness.
"Kevin!" I screamed, but the forest swallowed my voice.
I ran, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing. My legs were weak, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I couldn't think about what was happening. I just had to move.
I heard footsteps behind me-too many footsteps, but when I turned, I saw nothing. The trees seemed closer now, the shadows more alive. I felt the brush of something cold on my neck and spun around, but again, nothing.
"Mark!" I called out, but the sound was lost in the wind.
I moved faster, stumbling over rocks and uneven ground, until I found myself back at the truck. But even then, I didn't feel safe. I didn't feel anything but dread.
I climbed into the truck, locking the doors behind me. The engine roared to life, and I floored the gas pedal, speeding away without looking back.
But that night, I couldn't escape what I had seen, what I had felt. The whispers in the trees, the shapes that moved just beyond my sight. The weight of the forest felt like it was pressing down on me.
I don't know what happened to Mark, Adam, or Kevin. But I know they're out there. Somewhere. Watching. Waiting.
And I don't think they're alone.
On Christmas Eve, the air grows cold,
And shadows rise, both young and old.
Beneath the snow, in graves they lie,
The old ones wake, with watchful eyes.
The wind it howls, the moon turns red,
And ancient whispers fill your head.
With chains that rattle, claws that scratch,
They slip inside through every latch.
The Yule Cat prowls with silent paws,
Its eyes aglow, its teeth like saws.
It stalks the streets where children sleep,
And with each step, a soul it keeps.
The Krampus comes with twisted glee,
His horns a crown, his eyes a plea.
With chains that rattle, his feet so slow,
He finds the bad, and makes them go.
The sleigh it creaks, the reindeer howl,
As Santa’s ride becomes a growl.
No gifts to give, no joy to spread,
Just darkened nights where souls have fled.
The earth it stirs, the dead arise,
And Christmas night is filled with cries.
For those who sleep, for those who dream,
Are haunted by a silent scream.
- Writer
