FICTION OF THE DAY: THE FOREST TOOK HER

Ten months ago, a heavily pregnant Emma vanished in the woods during a hike. Her husband, Jordan, never stopped searching, vowing that if he had to tear through hell to bring her and their baby home, he would. But he didn't know one thing — this forest doesn't give back what it takes… not easily.

The young silver streaks of twilight devoured the thick woods. A shrill symphony of chirping crickets filled the cold air, and the distant howls of something man feared inched closer.

Behind him, footsteps closed in. Someone or… something was creeping closer, its paws pounding against the damp forest floor. Jordan ran as fast as his legs could carry him...

A jagged tree branch had torn through his thigh earlier, painting a crimson trail behind him. Each step was agony, yet he pushed forward, driven by a terror that gnawed deeper than flesh and bone.

The bleeding wouldn't stop. But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when the unforgiving forest around him seemed to breathe and come alive with something ancient and hungry.

As twilight deepened, shadows stretched and twisted, as if life and death were playing a grotesque game of resurrection. Something was hunting him. Something that understood survival was more than just a biological imperative.

Jordan's breath came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a razor-sharp knife scraping against his raw, burning lungs. His phone, compass, and map had torn free during the chase — swallowed by the dark, just like everything else that strayed too far into these forbidden woods.

His vision blurred with exhaustion. Tears and sweat mingled, creating a hazy nightmare landscape that seemed to pulse and writhe around him.

His hands were scratched raw, thin rivulets of crimson tracing intricate patterns down his palms, mixing with the mud and forest debris. His clothes clung to his sweat-drenched skin like a second membrane, cold and clammy, while a bone-chilling wind gnawed at him like hungry teeth.

He didn't dare look back. It was coming for him, with twice the speed of his weary legs. A doubt flickered in his mind like a dying flame. The same gnawing question that had been eating him alive since his pregnant wife went missing ten months ago: Would she be alive? Would I find her… and our baby?

Then, through the trees, he saw it.

An old cabin. Nestled deep in the dark womb of the woods where no one should live.

Its silhouette was a jagged wound against the twilight, windows like blind, vacant eyes staring into the encroaching darkness. It stood as a silent sentinel, holding secrets darker than the shadows that wrapped around it like a funeral shroud.

Jordan staggered forward, his lungs seizing with each desperate breath. His muscles ached in protest, and his eyes burned. But he had no choice. Either risk whatever waited in that cabin or let whatever was behind him catch up.

Jordan knew with chilling clarity that whatever pursued him was far worse than any horror that might lurk within those weathered cabin walls.

"Where are you, Emma?" he cried into the void. "Is… is our baby alright? And alive?"

The memory hit him like a hammer as he dragged his battered legs across the murky grass, slick with mud and something far darker. A flash of white… a scream that wasn't human echoed in his head. And then… silence. Heavy. Haunting silence wrapped him like a shroud.

Ten months ago...

Emma sat on the edge of the car seat, her arms crossed over the soft arc of her pregnant belly. She had that look — the one that said she wasn't buying into his excitement. Her eyes, usually bright with hope, now held a shadow of apprehension, a maternal instinct whispering warnings that Jordan couldn't hear.

"I don't know, Jordan. I just... hiking this deep in the woods? I don't think it's safe. I don't understand why… but I'm feeling a bit uneasy about the whole thing." Her voice trembled slightly, each word a gentle plea.

He grinned, hoping to win her over, his excitement a frantic attempt to push back the shadows of her fears. "Come on, Em. It's a team hike. We're not alone. And the doctor said fresh air's good for you."

His hand found her belly, fingertips brushing over the little bundle of joy — their future, their hope after five years of waiting and endless hospital visits.

"Fine. But if I slip, I'm blaming you!" Her laugh was a fragile thing, caught between trust and terror.

They never should have gone. Maybe Jordan should have listened to his wife.

The blizzard hit fast. One moment, they were trekking along the snow-dusted path, pristine white stretching before them like an endless canvas of silence. The next, they were blinded by white swirling snow and deafening wind that howled like a banshee's cry, drowning out voices, erasing directions, and swallowing entire worlds.

Emma had been behind him. He turned to check. But... she was GONE.

"EMMA?!" Jordan's scream tore through the storm's violent symphony. Panic shot through him like liquid fire, burning away reason, leaving only pure, desperate terror.

He fought against the storm, each step a battle against the invisible, murderous winds. "Emma? Please, somebody, find my wife. She… she's pregnant… please…"

His boot hit ice and he slipped. He tumbled and rolled, and his head cracked against something hard, a sound that was both dull and sharp, like hope shattering into a million crystalline fragments.

Then, darkness.

When he woke, the storm had passed. Silence hung heavy like a burial shroud over the landscape. The others found him — pale, broken, and a ghost of the man who had entered the mountain happily with his heavily pregnant wife.

They searched for Emma for days. Weeks. And long after hope should have faded. But Jordan's love refused to let go.

She had to be out there somewhere — his heart wouldn't accept anything less. How could something happen to her when his heart was still beating?

Emma wasn't just his wife. She was his heartbeat. His breath. She and their unborn baby were his entire universe. And Jordan would tear apart every forest, every mountain, and every inch of this world to bring them back.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. They said what his heart refused to accept. "No. Emma is out there, waiting for me… with our baby," he protested.

Every weekend, Jordan returned to the woods, searching and calling her name into the wind. Each journey was a pilgrimage of grief, each step a prayer, and each moment a desperate bargain with whatever the cruel gods might be listening to.

But he never found her. And giving up was not an option. Not for Jordan.

A gust of breeze hit him like a slap. Sighing deeply, he licked the dry crack of his lips and staggered into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

He collapsed against it, gulping in air, his heart rattling in his chest like a trapped, frenzied animal. He looked around. The place wasn't abandoned.

The flickering flame of an oil lamp cast dancing shadows across the room. In the corner, a wooden table held the remains of a meal — a half-eaten plate of food, a cup stained with dried coffee, and a knife carelessly left beside it.

Against the far wall sat an unmade bed, draped in a thick, timeworn fox fur blanket, its matted fibers whispering of brutal winters and long, restless nights.

A pair of handmade winter slippers sat neatly beside the door, worn but meticulously maintained. Someone lived here. Recently. Intimately.

Then… BANG.

The front door slammed shut as Jordan hid behind a cupboard. Footsteps followed, and something else… something heavy and wet dragged across the wooden floor.

He had company, but not the friendly kind.

Jordan's blood turned to ice, freezing in his veins, locking him in place. His fingers fumbled for the nearest object — a rusted metal rod, its weight both reassuring and utterly useless against whatever was out there. Then, his hand found the flashlight.

His eyes darted to the wooden hatch in the middle of the floor. Without thinking, he yanked it open and slipped down into the darkness, each movement a desperate dance between silence and survival.

His breath came in sharp, shallow gulps. The air was thick, damp... the breath of the earth itself, musty with secrets and decay. The cellar was small and dusty. He pressed against the cold stone wall, forcing himself to stay silent, willing his thundering heart to quiet, to become invisible.

Then, a sound.

A wet, smacking noise… like a faint whimper bellowed out from a dark corner.

He inched his flashlight forward... and froze.

A BABY.

Swaddled in a thick blanket in a basket, sleeping peacefully, utterly unaware of the terror that surrounded it. So small, innocent, and completely vulnerable. Around its tiny neck, a pendant gleamed in the dim light, catching what little illumination existed in this underground tomb.

Jordan's eyes widened in horror.

Emma’s pendant. HIS WIFE'S HEART-SHAPED PENDANT. The one he'd given her on their first anniversary. The one she had sworn never to take off. The one engraved with their initials: "EJ."

Before he could process it, another noise sent a jolt of terror through him, electrifying every nerve and every instinct. The floorboards groaned above.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Like something was watching. Waiting. And savoring the moment before it struck.

It was coming straight for the hatch.

The cellar door creaked open. The sound was a knife's edge... sharp, threatening, and pregnant with unspoken intensity.

Jordan didn't hesitate. Didn't wait. He lunged.

The metal rod swung forward, colliding with something solid. A grunt. A stumble. Flesh meeting metal. The sound of impact echoed in the tight, damp space. Then, a voice — deep, slow, and chilling seemed to emerge from the shadows themselves, smooth as oil, and cold as winter's first breath.

"Well now… looks like I've got a visitor."

Jordan's grip tightened, knuckles white and muscles coiled like steel springs. "Who the hell are you?!" The voice barked.

Jordan's heart shuddered. But his hands didn't. They were steady. Weapon raised and ready.

The man stepped closer, his face appearing in the dim light like a nightmare slowly taking shape. He was tall, wiry, built like something between a predator and a ghost. His beard was scruffy and unkempt, telling stories of isolation and wild places where civilization's rules didn't apply.

His eyes, though, were sharp. Too sharp. Intelligent. Calculating. They didn't just look — they dissected.

He smiled. A smile that never reached those grotesque, dissecting eyes.

"The name's Walter. And you're in MY HOME." Each word was a territorial declaration. A warning.

Jordan raised the rod, a barrier between them. Between truth and whatever darkness Walter represented. "Why does that baby have my wife's pendant?"

A moment of silence hung between them.

Walter's head tilted, a predatory gesture of calculation. Then he sighed, as if Jordan's question was a mild inconvenience. "Well, now. That's a long story."

"Talk."

Walter leaned against the cellar wall, casually, like they were discussing the weather. But there was something unsettling in the way he spoke.

"Found a woman ten months ago. Pregnant. Cold as ice." He let out a slow breath, almost wistful. "I'd been alone for a long time… 20 painful years. This forest became my home. My world within a world that had only ever been unkind to me. Then suddenly, there she was… like a gift buried in the snow. A second chance." His lips curled into something that barely passed as a smile.

"She was alive. Had no memory of who she was or where she came from. I took her in. Told her she was mine.... and she believed me. She lived with me for months, thinking I was her… husband."

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “You'd be surprised how easy it is to rewrite someone's fate when they have nothing left to hold onto."

Jordan's stomach twisted. "You LIED to her."

Walter shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant. "She believed me. At first." His gaze darkened, something wild and dangerous flickering beneath the surface. "Until she didn't. Until she fled. But she left me company." His eyes landed on the baby.

Jordan's jaw clenched, muscles jumping beneath skin stretched tight with fury. "Where is she?"

The moment Walter laughed, something inside Jordan snapped. Months of grief and searching, and this moment of horrifying revelation erupted into pure, calculated violence.

As Walter shifted, Jordan saw his chance. The man might be wiry and sharp-eyed, but he was older and caught off-guard. Jordan lunged, using his full body weight to slam Walter against the cabin wall. His forearm pressed against Walter's throat, cutting off air, pinning him with a strength born of desperation and rage.

"Where is she? Where is my wife? What did you do to her?" Jordan growled, pressing harder.

Walter gasped and tried to twist, but Jordan had him locked tight. The older man wheezed, momentarily stunned.

"She ran off two days ago," he said, his dirty nails digging into Jordan's palms.

A precise, brutal strike to the side of Walter's head seemed good enough. He crumpled, slumping against the wall, dazed but breathing. Jordan didn't waste a second. His hands moved fast, finding a coil of rope near the workbench.

He tied Walter to a chair... tight, the way you'd restrain a rabid dog.

Walter let out a low chuckle, unfazed, crimson trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Good luck with finding her… but you won't make it far," he muttered, eyes gleaming. "The wolves out there are hungry and merciless."

Jordan searched the cabin. He found a gun, a compass, and a map. He grabbed them all, then lifted the baby into his arms. His baby. His and Emma's wonderful creation.

The woods whispered with predatory intent. Something was hunting them... something that wanted to devour more than just flesh.

Jordan opened fire into the darkness, the gunshots shattering the forest's sinister silence, a desperate attempt to keep whatever lurked in the shadows at bay.

The baby's frightened cries pierced the night. Jordan held the infant close, his voice a desperate whisper of reassurance. "Shh, it's okay. We're okay. Daddy's got you. I won't let anything happen to you, sweetheart."

His legs burned. His wound throbbed. But survival was the only language that mattered now. Jordan didn't look back. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Five hours.

That's how long it took through the freezing night, his legs barely holding him up. Each step was a battle against exhaustion, against the dark forest that seemed determined to claim him and his daughter.

Then, through the tangled branches, a miracle appeared.

Jordan sucked in a sharp breath, barely trusting his eyes. But there it was — the road — a strip of deserted pavement cutting through the endless dark, and just beyond it, a flickering roadside lamp. Weak, barely more than a dying ember against the night, but it was enough.

His legs nearly gave out. A shaky, relieved laugh clawed its way from his throat, but he swallowed it down. Not yet. Not until they were safe.

And with the last scraps of strength he had left, he stumbled onto the road, his knees buckling beneath him. Neon lights and sirens appeared in the distance, cutting through the endless dark.

He tried to speak, to call out, but his voice barely made it past his dry lips. "Help…"

His vision blurred. His body gave in. But even as the darkness pulled him under, his arms stayed locked around his baby — the one thing he refused to let go.

When Jordan woke, fluorescent lights blinded him. The sterile smell of the hospital and the beeping of machines promised safety.

"Call the police! My wife... my daughter —" he shot up, startled.

A warm hand pressed against his. "We're here."

He turned his head, and warm tears dotted his face.

Emma stood beside him, their daughter cradled in her arms. Tears streaked her face like rivers of pain, relief, and a journey through darkness no one should ever traverse. Her eyes held a depth he'd never seen before.

"The police found him," she whispered. "It's over, Jordan. We're safe."

Jordan exhaled. His eyes burned, but he didn't fight it. For the first time in ten months, he let the relief break him. Tears poured out as Emma clutched his shirt, her breaths shaky. "I didn't remember you, Jordan. I didn't remember anything after surviving the disaster."

She swallowed hard, fingers brushing over the pendant on her neck. "He found me and nursed me to health. He told me he was my husband. And I… I believed him. I saw your face in my dreams... every night. But every time I asked him, he said it was nothing. Just a dream."

She let out a hollow laugh. "I was stupid. But then… two days ago, everything came back. I was in the woods, getting firewood. Something chased me... a wolf, maybe. I ran, tripped, hit my head on a log. When I woke up… I remembered... everything."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I asked for you. For our baby. I held my stomach and —" Her voice cracked. "She was gone, Jordan. Our baby was gone. I was shattered… until he told me I’d given birth to a healthy baby girl."

"He knew. He saw it in my face. So he took her and locked her in the basement. Said if I tried to leave, I'd never see her again."

"I wanted to stay, Jordan. I thought maybe if I just played along, I could keep her safe. But I knew I'd never save her that way. He wouldn't hurt her, not really. She was just a pawn to keep me there."

Her grip tightened. "So I ran... ran to find help."

Emma smiled and kissed their daughter's forehead. "The forest took me, Jordan." Her voice cracked like a delicate glass about to shatter. "But you brought me back."

He swallowed hard, gripping her hand. The hand he'd searched for, dreamed of, and refused to let go. "I always would, Emma. I would pay any price to get you back… even if that price meant my life."

Jordan pulled her close, his grip firm. She was here. She was real. Their baby let out a soft giggle, a sound that felt like light breaking through a long, endless night.

Beyond the glass, the forest loomed in the distance, whispering in the wind, its branches shifting like fingers weaving an unseen tale. It had taken. It had given back. And it was not done watching.

Here's another story: Daniel hoped a weekend in the woods would heal the growing rift between him and his son, Caleb. But after a heated argument, Caleb stormed off and never came back. As night descended, Daniel scoured the dark forest, following his son's footprints… until they suddenly vanished without a trace.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.