u/Double-Session-7387

Around five years ago, me and my friends went to this shack in the woods. Everyone in town knew about it—one of those local legends meant to scare kids away. We decided to stay the night just to prove it was all bullshit.

We got there around midday. As soon as we stepped out of the car, the air hit us—rotted wood mixed with smoke. As we approached the shack, I hesitated. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I said.

“Oh come on, Tyler, don’t be a wimp,” Terry replied.

“Yeah, it’s just a shack,” Daniel added. The twins always backed each other up.

“I don’t know…” Beth muttered. “We all know what happened here.”

“Oh shut up,” Terry snapped. “A family got murdered 40 years ago. You really think their spirits are still here?”

“Exactly,” Daniel said.

“But the bodies disappeared,” Beth insisted. “No funeral, nothing.”

“It’s just a story to keep people away,” Terry said.

They weren’t backing down, so we gave in and went inside.

The place smelled like death. The furniture was rotting, the carpets stained dark brown—I didn’t want to think about what it was. Cobwebs clung to every corner, and the fireplace was filled with ash and broken stone.

We decided to clean the fireplace and start a fire. I was sent to gather wood, so I headed into the forest looking for something dry enough to burn.

About an hour later, I had enough. That’s when I heard it.

A whisper.

Faint—like the wind—but clear enough to understand.

“Get out.”

I froze. I looked around, but there was nothing—just trees. I brushed it off and started walking back.

Ten minutes later, I heard it again. Louder.

I stopped, scanning the woods. Still nothing.

Then it came again—this time from everywhere.

I dropped most of the wood and started running. The voice followed me, growing louder with every step.

“Get out. Get out. Get out.”

I burst back into the shack and slammed the door, pressing my body against it like something was trying to get in.

Everyone stared at me.

“What the hell happened?” Terry asked.

“N-nothing,” I stuttered. “Thought I saw a rabid squirrel.”

“Oh great, and you barely got any wood,” Terry said.

“It’s enough for a bit,” I muttered.

Daniel smirked. “Can’t even do that right.”

We lit the fire anyway. After a while, we got bored, and Terry decided to tell the full story of the shack—apparently the part no one ever shared.

“Forty years ago, a family lived here,” Terry began. “A mother, father, and two kids. One day, the father went to town and met an old man from some village near Munich. He told him about a king who fled to England with stolen gold—around 240 pieces—and buried it near an altar in a forest. Then he died.”

“The father came home convinced he could find it,” Terry continued. “But the next day, the whole family was found slaughtered. Torn apart. Blood everywhere.”

“We know this part,” Beth said.

“I’m getting there,” Terry snapped. “On the back wall, there was a message written in blood: Stay away from my gold. The old man was arrested but never confessed. He died a year later.”

“Bullshit,” Beth said.

“Our dad showed us the police report,” Daniel added.

“Sure,” Beth scoffed.

“Let’s check,” Terry said.

We went around the back.

And there it was.

The message.

Exactly as Terry described.

“See?” he said smugly.

“Jesus… those marks don’t look like a knife—” I stopped.

I heard it again.

The voice.

“What the hell was that?” Daniel whispered.

“I-it’s just the wind,” I said, but even I didn’t believe it.

Then it came again—louder. Not a whisper this time.

A booming voice.

Everything went silent. No birds. No wind.

“Let’s go back inside,” Beth said, trembling.

We moved slowly, barely breathing, and rushed inside. Panic set in immediately.

“We need to get out of here,” Terry said.

We ran to the car. Beth tried to start it.

Nothing.

“Come on, come on!” she shouted, hitting the wheel.

“Start the car!” Terry yelled.

“I’m trying!”

Daniel suddenly threw the door open. “I’m getting out of here!”

He ran into the woods.

“Daniel, stop!” Terry screamed.

But he disappeared. His footsteps faded… then silence.

“We need to think,” Beth said, shaking.

“We need to find Daniel,” Terry snapped.

“Why not both?” I said. “He was heading for the exit.”

“Shut up,” Terry said.

“We need to leave,” I argued. “Something’s out there—it wants us gone.”

“I’m not leaving my brother!” Terry shouted.

“We’re not going back out there!”

“I told you we shouldn’t have come!” I snapped.

“Shut the fuck up, Tyler!” Terry yelled. “We’re finding him!”

“I’m staying in the car!”

Terry glared at me. “You’re pathetic. I didn’t even want you here.”

Then he ran after Daniel.

Moments later, we heard him scream.

It went on… and on… then stopped.

We stayed in the car for an hour before we finally moved.

Me and Beth walked toward the exit, sticking close together. The forest felt wrong—too quiet.

Then we heard something in the bushes.

We ran.

We passed Terry and Daniel’s bodies—but we didn’t stop.

Something chased us, screaming something inhuman.

We ran until we reached the main road. We stayed there until morning, when a dog walker found us and called the police.

We didn’t tell them anything

That was five years ago.

A year ago, Beth killed herself. She couldn’t live with what she saw.

I visit her and the twins’ grave every Wednesday.

And I still hear it.

That voice.

“Get out.”

Maybe if I had listened… none of this would have happened.