The Forest in Appalachia Remembered Her Face and Followed Her Home

Mike’s Voicemail

Mike wasn’t the type to call about weird stuff, but three nights after the park, he left Harper a voicemail. His bathroom mirror had scratches—four deep grooves, like claws. He said he’d just gotten out of the shower and found them running down the glass. “You know I live alone,” he said, voice tight. The door was locked, too. No animals around.”

She called him back right away, but he didn’t pick up. When she finally got through the next day, Mike laughed it off. Said it must’ve been the glass warping. But Harper could hear something else under his voice. Something brittle. Something scared.

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