The Forest in Appalachia Remembered Her Face and Followed Her Home

An Empty Apartment

By morning, Harper was on the road. Mike hadn’t posted online or texted back in days. He hadn’t paid his rent either. She let herself into his place with the key he’d given her months ago. The lights were on, his phone was on the couch, and his shoes were by the door.

The bathroom mirror had new scratches; wider, deeper, angrier. But no sign of Mike. She checked the fridge and gagged. Inside was raw meat, steak maybe, but spoiled, gray, and wet. A sticky trail of muddy footprints led out the back door and into the yard. And there, at the tree line, she saw them again. Watching.

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