Don't Look Back

It was an old tale, one whispered by the winds in the hollow trees and murmured by the distant crows. A tale of a road, a path deep in the woods, that promised to lead you to safety? but only if you never looked back.

The night Emma drove her car too far, too deep into the woods, she didn't know the story. The fog had rolled in like a dense, suffocating curtain, and her headlights barely pierced the gloom. The GPS was useless, frozen at a dead end, and the map she'd bought from the small-town gas station had proved equally cryptic. As the minutes turned into hours, she cursed herself for ignoring the signs - there had been no cell service for miles, the air was getting colder, and something about the trees seemed? wrong.

She had no choice. She had to keep going.

And then she saw it. A figure, hunched and cloaked, standing just off the side of the road. She slowed, her heart hammering in her chest. The figure didn't move, didn't react to the passing car. It stood still, as though waiting. She knew she should've driven on, but something in the pit of her stomach compelled her to stop.

Rolling down the window, she shouted, "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

The figure didn't respond. Emma thought it was strange. But then, as she was about to roll the window up and leave, the figure shifted slightly, and a cold, rasping voice slid through the fog. "Don't look back."

Emma froze. What did it mean?

She strained her eyes in the dark, scanning the road behind her. The figure's warning clung to her, gnawing at her mind. There was no reason to look back - nothing had been there before. She turned her eyes forward, trying to convince herself it was nothing.

"Don't look back," the voice repeated, this time louder, closer.

A chill ran down her spine as she pressed the gas pedal and sped away. The figure was gone now, swallowed by the mist. The road seemed longer now, the trees closing in around her like a maze she couldn't escape.

Minutes passed in silence. The only sound was the hum of her engine and the occasional creak of the tires over uneven gravel. Emma's hands tightened around the steering wheel, the warning still ringing in her ears. Don't look back.

Her gaze flickered to the rearview mirror.

A figure moved in the distance, standing on the edge of the road where the trees thinned. Her breath caught in her throat. It couldn't be.

She tried to keep her focus ahead, but her hands trembled, and her foot hovered uncertainly above the gas pedal. What if it was just a trick of the fog?

A soft creaking sound came from the backseat. Emma's heart skipped a beat. She looked into the mirror again.

Nothing.

The car was empty.

But the creaking sound grew louder, closer.

Then, the temperature dropped drastically. Emma could see her breath fogging in front of her, but the chill didn't just freeze the air. It seemed to sink into her very bones.

Don't look back.

Her mind screamed at her to drive faster, to escape whatever was following her. But with every second that passed, the presence grew stronger. She swore she could hear soft whispering in the backseat, so faint she could barely make it out. The words sounded like an old language, guttural, almost painful to listen to.

Don't look back.

Her heart was pounding now, the sound deafening in her ears.

And then, without thinking, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror again.

There was something there.

A dark shape - distorted, like a twisted silhouette, its eyes glowing faintly in the dark. It was crouched, too low, too unnatural. The figure's mouth was wide open, a gaping maw filled with rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

In the blink of an eye, the creature's hand reached out from the backseat, its long, clawed fingers grazing the back of her neck. Emma screamed, swerving the wheel wildly, her car fishtailing on the slick road.

The creature was laughing, its voice low and echoing, as though coming from a thousand mouths. Emma's foot slammed onto the brake, but it was too late. The car lurched, spinning off the road and plunging into the thick woods.

As the world around her went dark, she heard the voice once more, the same rasping whisper, echoing in her ears.

"You looked back..."

The fog swallowed her, the trees closing in on her final, chilling scream.

The next day, they found the car.

It was abandoned, doors wide open, but no sign of Emma.

And in the fog that lingered over the woods, there was something new - a trail, faint but undeniable. Footprints that led nowhere? but for some reason, no one dared to follow them.

The woods had claimed another victim, and the legend remained.

"Don't look back."