You sat in the living room, staring blankly ahead. Boredom clung to you like damp air—heavy, suffocating. You tried downloading games on your phone, but they were all the same: dull, lifeless. You baked something, hoping the process would distract you, but the kitchen now smelled like burnt sugar and disappointment. TV? Useless. Music? Gone in seconds. Nothing filled the silence.

With a frustrated groan, you stood up and went to the bathroom. A quick shower helped settle your nerves, and slipping into something softer made you feel mildly refreshed. But that hollow feeling still clung to your chest.

You dropped back onto the couch, lost in thought. Then it came to you—why not a small picnic? Something quiet, away from the house.

You moved quickly, grabbing an unused blanket and a small bag. Tossed in a few snacks, your phone, and slipped on your socks and shoes. You opened the front door and stepped into the woods. The breeze hit your skin, sharp and cool, making you shiver.

You walked until you found a spot tucked beneath the trees—a calm patch of shaded and soft grass. You laid out the blanket and sat down. The air was clean, and the quiet was soothing. You let your shoulders drop as you opened a pack of chips and listened to the whispering trees.

Then, you woke up. Jolting upright, you scanned your surroundings. Night. Of course. You groaned, rubbing your face, but something felt... wrong. The woods were still. Too still.

You sat there, unmoving, as the chill sank deeper into your skin. There was a weight in the air now. You felt it—the eyes. Watching. Following every breath, every twitch.

After what felt like an eternity of sitting frozen, you forced yourself to your feet. You had to leave. You walked quickly, but the forest looked different. Off. The trail you thought you knew was gone. The silence was deafening.

Then, a hand gripped your shoulder, and you barely had time to scream. You were spun around hard, and your eyes met something—someone—staring down at you with a twisted grin.

“Silly thing,” the voice said, low and sharp. “Why’d you wander off?” They leaned closer. A knife gleamed in their hand. “You’re not leaving the woods. You’re going deeper.”

They crouched, bringing the blade to your throat. “Any last words, mortal?”