Asha and Rohan had been looking forward to this hiking trip for months. The dense forest of Nilgiri Hills was famous for its breathtaking trails, and they had set out with excitement, backpacks filled with essentials and hearts brimming with adventure. But as the golden sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, their excitement soon turned into uncertainty.
It started with a wrong turn.
"We should’ve reached the clearing by now," Rohan muttered, checking his phone. No signal.
Asha bit her lip. "Maybe we retrace our steps?"
But the forest had its own way of playing tricks. Every path looked identical, the towering trees casting shadows that seemed to shift with every passing second. Panic set in as the afternoon light began to fade.
"Stay calm," Rohan reassured, though his own voice wavered. "We’ll find a way out."
Just then, a rustling sound made them freeze. A shadow darted between the trees. Asha grabbed Rohan’s arm. "Did you see that?"
"Probably an animal," he whispered. But his pulse quickened.
Suddenly, a low whistle cut through the silence. Not the wind. It was deliberate.
Asha's breath hitched. "We’re not alone."
They quickened their pace, but every turn led to more trees, more tangled roots, more uncertainty. A strange feeling crept over them—a sensation of being watched.
Then they saw it.
A hut.
Nestled between two gnarled trees, it looked abandoned, its wooden door slightly ajar. They exchanged glances. The alternative was wandering aimlessly in the dark.
Stepping inside, they found an old lantern, a dusty table, and scattered papers with strange symbols. Asha picked one up. The ink was fresh.
"Someone’s been here recently," she whispered.
A sudden thud outside made them jump.
Footsteps.
Rohan grabbed a rusty knife from the table. The door creaked as someone—or something—pushed against it.
"Hello?" Rohan called, his voice unsteady.
Silence.
Then, a whisper, barely audible: "Leave… before it gets dark."
Asha grabbed his arm. "Let’s go."
They ran, blindly, deeper into the forest, guided only by instinct. Branches scratched their skin, their breaths came in ragged gasps. Behind them, a guttural growl echoed. Not an animal. Something else.
Then, light—tiny fireflies blinking in rhythmic patterns.
"Look!" Asha pointed. The fireflies seemed to form a path.
With no other option, they followed. The eerie glow led them past ancient trees, past murmuring streams, until they stumbled onto a familiar path.
The trailhead.
"We made it!" Rohan gasped, looking back. The forest stood still, as if it had never changed.
Then, the lantern from the hut flickered behind them.
Asha’s blood ran cold. "That hut wasn’t real, was it?"
Rohan exhaled shakily. "I don’t think so."
The next day, they spoke to the local ranger.
"There’s no hut in those woods," he said grimly. "But a hundred years ago, a couple went missing in the same spot. Their last known sighting? A wooden hut."
Asha and Rohan looked at each other, chills running down their spines.
They had escaped.
Or had they?
