Into the Woods
1100 Words
The map lay open across Amara’s bed long after midnight.
She traced the faded red circle with her fingertip, studying every line Sophia had drawn. The Whitmore estate stretched far beyond the manicured gardens she had come to know. There were winding trails, a small lake, the abandoned caretaker’s cottage, and beyond them, a dense forest that seemed to swallow the edge of the property.
The words Start here were written beside a narrow path that disappeared into the trees.
Amara checked the clock.
12:43 a.m.
She knew she should wait until morning. The sensible part of her insisted that wandering into an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night was reckless.
But another thought refused to leave her.
What if someone finds the diary before sunrise?
Sophia had hidden it for a reason.
If Claire or Daniel discovered it was missing, every clue could disappear before Amara had a chance to understand it.
She slipped into a dark sweater, pulled on her boots, and tucked the diary and map into her backpack. After listening carefully at her bedroom door, she stepped into the hallway.
The house was silent.
Moonlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed once.
Half past midnight.
Amara descended the staircase slowly, avoiding the steps that creaked. She had already learned which ones betrayed every movement.
At the back door, she paused.
Claire’s first rule echoed in her mind.
“Always lock the back door before bed.”
She unlocked it as quietly as she could and stepped outside.
The cold air wrapped around her immediately.
Behind her, the mansion stood dark against the night sky, every window black except one.
A light glowed faintly from the second floor.
Daniel’s study.
She frowned.
She was certain everyone had gone to bed.
Before she could think about it any longer, the light went out.
⸻
The path toward the forest was damp from the previous night’s rain.
Every step released the scent of wet earth and pine.
The farther she walked, the quieter the world became.
Even the wind seemed unwilling to enter the woods.
She unfolded Sophia’s map beneath the beam of her phone’s flashlight.
According to the drawing, the red circle wasn’t deep inside the forest.
It was hidden near an enormous oak tree marked with a tiny cross.
After nearly fifteen minutes of walking, she found it.
The oak towered above every other tree, its trunk so wide that it would have taken four people to wrap their arms around it.
Someone had carved initials into its bark years before.
S.M.
Sophia Markovic.
Amara’s pulse quickened.
She circled the tree carefully.
At first, she saw nothing.
Then her flashlight caught the edge of a loose stone at its base.
She knelt and pulled it aside.
Beneath it lay a small metal tin.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the lid.
Inside were three objects.
A silver key.
A folded photograph.
And a tiny USB flash drive.
She picked up the photograph first.
It showed Sophia standing in front of the Whitmore mansion, smiling broadly with Oliver in her arms and Lily holding her hand.
On the back, in hurried handwriting, Sophia had written:
“If this is still here, they never found it.”
A branch snapped somewhere behind her.
Amara spun around, raising her flashlight.
Nothing.
Only rows of silent trees.
She listened.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Just the pounding of her own heart.
“You’re imagining things,” she whispered.
Still, she quickly placed the photograph, key, and USB drive into her backpack.
The moment she stood, another sound drifted through the darkness.
Crunch.
This time it was unmistakable.
Someone else was in the forest.
“Who’s there?” she called.
Silence answered.
She swept the flashlight from side to side.
The beam landed on a figure standing several metres away between the trees.
A woman.
She wore a long beige coat.
Dark curls framed her face.
For one impossible second, she looked exactly like the woman in the untouched photograph.
Sophia.
Amara’s breath caught.
The woman slowly lifted one finger to her lips.
A silent gesture.
Don’t speak.
Then she pointed behind Amara.
Amara turned instinctively.
There was nothing there.
When she looked back, the woman had disappeared.
Only the trees remained.
⸻
She hurried toward the mansion, her pulse racing.
By the time she reached the gardens, dawn had begun to colour the horizon.
She slipped through the back door and quietly locked it behind her.
Relief washed over her.
She had made it back without anyone noticing.
Or so she thought.
As she removed her boots in the hallway, a voice came from the darkness.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Amara froze.
Daniel stepped out of the sitting room, already dressed in a crisp white shirt despite the early hour.
He held a steaming mug of coffee.
“I… went outside for some fresh air.”
He smiled pleasantly.
“The forest can be dangerous before sunrise.”
She forced a laugh.
“I didn’t go far.”
“I know.”
The words landed heavily between them.
He took a sip of coffee.
“My father used to tell me that the woods have a way of making people lose their sense of direction.”
His eyes settled briefly on the mud splashed across her boots.
“I hope you didn’t get lost.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He smiled again, as though nothing unusual had happened.
“I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”
He walked toward the kitchen, leaving Amara alone in the hallway.
Only after he disappeared did she realise her backpack was still hanging from one shoulder.
She rushed upstairs and emptied its contents onto her bed.
The silver key glinted in the morning light.
The USB drive was unmarked.
But something about the photograph made her stop.
She looked at it more closely.
There, reflected faintly in one of the mansion’s upstairs windows, stood a person watching Sophia as the photograph was taken.
The face was blurred by the glass.
Impossible to identify.
Yet the silhouette was unmistakable.
Whoever it was…
They had been watching long before Amara ever arrived.
Amara turned the photograph over once more.
This time she noticed something she had missed in the darkness.
Hidden beneath Sophia’s original message, written so faintly it was almost invisible, were four more words.
Trust neither of them.
Amara slowly looked toward her bedroom door.
Someone knocked.
Three slow, deliberate taps.
She hadn’t told anyone she was awake.
- Writer
