《Where Horns Lead》 Blackthorn Hollow I trudged over the uneven ground, my boots scraping against jagged rocks and thorny brush as I pressed forward through the last two miles. Every step felt like it could twist an ankle or send me sprawling over the harsh terrain. I¡¯d encountered rough trails before, but somehow, this stretch seemed relentless¡ªunforgiving. Each craggy surface, each thorn-laden branch seemed like it had been deliberately arranged to slow us down, almost as if Blackthorn Hollow itself was putting up a fight. The hollow was notorious for its mineral wealth: veins of gold and rare stones lay everywhere, hidden beneath layers of stubborn canyon. Yet, despite these riches, very few dared to explore it. Blackthorn Hollow was wild and untamed, its intimidating landscape enough to deter the faint-hearted and the brave alike. Travelers who ventured through these four miles of narrow, twisting canyon often reported an oppressive silence, the kind that played tricks on your mind, made you second-guess each step. That eerie quiet surrounded us now, pressing down, amplifying each crunch of gravel, each snap of a dry twig underfoot. Jay lifted his arm, pointing ahead, ¡°There¡¯s the opening, the entrance to Blackthorn.¡± His voice seemed a little too loud in the empty silence. I exhaled with relief. ¡°Thank Christ.¡± I muttered, adjusting the weight of my gear. The straps bit into my shoulders, the heavy load feeling as if I were carrying a whole child on my back. Each step made the pack feel heavier, a constant reminder of just how remote and isolated we were out here. Jay stumbled, his foot catching on a half-buried stick that nearly sent him sprawling. He managed to untangle himself, grumbling, ¡°Man, when God created this place, he didn¡¯t want anyone entering it.¡± I let out a short laugh, the sound an attempt to lighten the oppressive air. ¡°That sounds scary, haha. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± I tried to sound positive, but a flicker of unease lingered beneath my words. Blackthorn Hollow had that effect¡ªa creeping sense that something unseen was watching. The canyon walls, jagged and towering, blocked the descending sun, casting shadows that stretched across the ground as the narrow trail began to widen. Just as Jay had said, the path opened up ahead, revealing the edge of Blackthorn Hollow. I slipped my hand into my pocket, fishing out a worn, creased map. The lines and markings were faded, barely visible in places, although familiar enough to guide us. I studied it carefully¡ªthere was the cabin marked at the far end, surrounded by thick forest, and then... I looked up, mesmerized for a moment. There, just ahead, lay a crystal-blue river winding through the rugged landscape. The river sparkled in the waning light, flowing down from the distant peaks of the New Sierra Mountains, cutting a glimmering line through the valley. I nudged Jay, my eyes still on the river. ¡°Hey, we should set up camp here. It¡¯s far enough from the cabin, and right near the water.¡± Jay scratched his beard, nodding in agreement. ¡°Sounds good. We¡¯ll make it before nightfall.¡± With a grunt, he swung his backpack off his shoulder, unhooking the lantern strapped to the side. Twisting the cap, he ignited the gas. The lantern flickered to life, casting a warm, steady glow that expanded our view. We¡¯d invested a few precious dollars in this lantern, confident it would last us a good while out here. We pushed on, stepping off the rough trail into a grassy forest clearing where the ground finally softened underfoot. For the first time all day, walking felt almost pleasant¡ªthe grass cushioning each step, the smell of pine thick in the cool evening air. The trail had smoothed out, making it easier to navigate. Jay stepped down into the river, his boots sinking slightly into the pebbled bed as the cold water splashed around his knees. ¡°Still no bridge over this thing.¡± he muttered, glancing around. ¡°Guess we¡¯re lucky it¡¯s only knee-deep.¡± I followed him in, shivering as the icy water seeped through my boots, enveloping my legs. ¡°Get used to it.¡± I said with a grin. ¡°This is where we¡¯ll be panning tomorrow. Might as well get comfortable with the temperature.¡± Jay shook his head, glancing up at the dimming sky. ¡°It¡¯s almost night. When we pan tomorrow, it¡¯ll be a lot warmer than this.¡± I shrugged, half-immersed in the chilly water. ¡°If you say so, Jay.¡± He was already making his way out of the river, his feet sinking slightly into the sand at the edge, while I remained in the deepest part. Jay shot me an impatient look. ¡°Hurry up! You were on the track team in high school, I wasn¡¯t!¡± I rolled my eyes, dipping a hand into the cold water, then flinging a splash toward him. ¡°Show some respect to your older brother.¡± I teased, watching as he squealed and flinched at the icy surprise, his hands tensing up against the cold. Jay shook off some of the water, mumbling in protest. Oh, don¡¯t even think about fighting back. You know I¡¯ve always been better at water fights. He gave me a smirk, though, and quickly glanced at the sky again. ¡°By my estimate, we¡¯ve got twenty minutes till nightfall. We¡¯re going to need to jog.¡± I groaned, feeling the water seeping into my boots, making each step heavier and squishier. A jog in wet boots was hardly ideal, but I could see his point¡ªthe light was fading fast. I sloshed my way out of the river and stood beside Jay, our clothes damp and clinging. I grinned, setting my left leg forward to give myself a quick head start. ¡°C¡¯mon, slowpoke!¡± Without waiting for his reply, I took off down the narrow trail. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Jay chuckled, shaking his head. The clearing was quiet. I grabbed the tent pole from my pack and raised it over my head. ¡°Let¡¯s set up camp. I want to turn in early tonight so we can get a head start tomorrow.¡± Jay nodded, rolling his shoulders and straightening up. ¡°Sounds like a plan.¡± I set down my pack, scanning the edges of the clearing for dry branches and kindling. ¡°I¡¯ll get the firewood.¡± The clearing stretched about twenty feet wide, a small haven amid the thick forest, with enough space to settle in comfortably. We split up the tasks like we usually did. Jay stayed back to set up our tent, unrolling the sleeping bags and unpacking dinner supplies, while I grabbed my axe and headed off into the trees to gather firewood. I found a decent branch, thick enough to fuel the fire but not so dense it¡¯d take all night to split. With a swing of my axe, the branch snapped clean through, hitting the forest floor. I paused for a moment, glancing around at the silent woods. There was an eerie quality to this place, a feeling that lingered, heavy and quiet. Fifteen people had entered Blackthorn Hollow over the past three years. Nine of them never made it back. The six who returned had told their stories repeatedly, claiming nothing unusual had happened¡ªno strange sights, no uncanny sounds. Their stories stayed consistent, right down to the details. I cut through a few more branches, snapping smaller pieces over my knee to fit into the pack. It could be that those nine had just gone crazy, nothing more. After gathering sixteen solid branches, I shoved them into my bag and swung it over my shoulder, glancing back toward the clearing. Jay struggled to push the tent pole deeper into the ground, muttering under his breath. ¡°Damn it, I should¡¯ve volunteered to get the wood. This is boring as hell.¡± I snuck up behind him and dropped the heavy bag of firewood with a thud, making him jump. I set the axe beside it, grinning. ¡°Still need your big brother to help out, huh? I¡¯ll finish up here¡ªgo ahead and get the fire started.¡± Jay rolled his eyes, dropping the hammer onto the grass with a relieved sigh. ¡°Be my guest.¡± he said, moving to unpack the firewood and kindling. I knew he was grateful, though he¡¯d never admit it. Besides, I owed him one. I got to work, straightening out the tent¡¯s base and double-checking the stakes. Out here, with the wind picking up and night setting in, a loose setup could mean the tent blowing clear across the clearing. I knelt down, lining up the first ground stake with the tent hole, and drove the hammer down hard. The stake sank into the ground, solid and unmoving. We¡¯d always made a good team, Jay and I. I had the strength to tackle the tough jobs, while he was quick on his feet and sharp as a tack. Together, we managed to cover each other¡¯s weaknesses. Within five minutes, our camp was set up and the fire crackled, small sparks dancing into the air as it caught hold of the larger branches. At least Jay could handle the fire on his own. The smell of chicken wafted over to me, its familiar aroma unmistakable, and my stomach rumbled in response. Jay carried over two fold-up chairs, setting them down beside the fire. He shifted his chair slightly, angling it to catch more of the warmth, then dropped a fire poker beside his seat before sinking into the chair with a sigh. I followed suit, easing myself into the fold-up chair. It wasn¡¯t much to look at¡ªa cheap piece of gear we¡¯d picked up from the bargain bin¡ªbut right now, with my muscles aching and the fire warming my skin, it felt like heaven. The soreness from a day¡¯s hard work finally began to melt away. Jay reached into the cooler beside him and pulled out two beers, holding one out to me. ¡°Take it.¡± I grinned, reaching over. ¡°Don¡¯t need to tell me twice.¡± I cracked it open, and took a long, satisfying swig. The coolness of the beer was the perfect contrast to the fire¡¯s heat, and I let myself relax, gazing out into the darkness surrounding our little circle of light. Jay¡¯s gaze drifted up to the starry night sky, his face softened by the firelight. ¡°This forest feels so peaceful.¡± he said, almost to himself. ¡°Those stories must be made up.¡± That caught my attention. ¡°Stories?¡± I asked, looking over at him. Jay hesitated, biting his lip before glancing my way. ¡°Yeah. You know, stories about the people who came out here and¡­ never made it back.¡± I felt a chill, though the fire¡¯s warmth should have made that impossible. Jay leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the flames as they flickered and danced. ¡°Let me tell you about them.¡± Stories "I have two stories to share." Jay explained, his voice low and measured. He paused, lifting his beer to his lips and adding a quick disclaimer. "Real quick, these stories aren¡¯t just rumors. The police did their investigations, and all that. Keep that in mind as I tell them." He took a slow sip, seeming to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "The first story concerns a boy named Neuman, who, like us, came here to strike it rich in gold. This was about two years ago. Unlike most, he came alone¡ªwhich, frankly, was pretty foolish of him. But I have to admit, Neuman was no ordinary prospector. He was a hell of a panhandler, and he knew his way around survival. He¡¯d done camping trips alone in some other pretty remote areas, sometimes staying out there for months. So this trip should¡¯ve been a walk in the park for him." Jay''s voice dropped, and his gaze grew distant as he stared into the campfire''s flames. "But it wasn¡¯t. Something happened to him out here. In the diary he brought with him, he wrote about...something haunting him. He mentioned that it might have been because of his actions in the past or, possibly, because of the sheer amount of gold he¡¯d managed to collect. He described it like...a presence he couldn¡¯t escape, something that kept following him, whispering to him, making him question himself." I interrupted, brow furrowed. "Hauntings?" Jay nodded, slowly turning the skewered chicken over the fire. "Yes. He said it was a voice, always there, relentless. But he never specified whose voice it was or what it said. Just...something kept accusing him, something he couldn¡¯t get away from." Jay paused, glancing around at the darkness encircling us, then continued. "Eventually, it got to be too much. According to his diary, he started unraveling, sleep-deprived and paranoid, until he...couldn¡¯t take it anymore. He took his own life." "How did he do it?" I asked. "He had his grandpa¡¯s old World War II pistol. That¡¯s what he used." Jay took another sip, his gaze still fixed on the fire. "His mother reported him missing two days after he was supposed to return home. When they found him, the cops ruled out homicide or foul play. Said it was clearly a suicide." I stared into the shadows beyond the firelight, trying to shake off the creeping chill that had settled in. "So he heard voices here... Maybe he just went mad from guilt from whatever he did?" Jay shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Maybe. Whatever it was, it was enough to push a seasoned survivor like him over the edge." I whispered, "Rest in peace..." and took a long sip of my drink. "Where did he stay?" I asked quietly, my voice wavering just enough for Jay to notice. He glanced over at me, then returned to tending the chicken wrapped in tinfoil over the fire. The smell was enough to make anyone¡¯s stomach growl. "He stayed in a cabin about a mile down from here," Jay replied, "which brings me to the second story, and trust me, it¡¯s even stranger than the first." Stranger? What could possibly be more unnerving than hearing voices in the dark? Jay seemed to sense my tension and gave a little shiver, rubbing his hands together and holding them close to the warmth of the fire. "The second story," he began, "is about two friends¡ªMatt and Rick. They were in their forties, both experienced hunters, guys who¡¯d been around danger their whole lives. Unlike Neuman, they didn¡¯t leave behind a diary or anything like that, so I¡¯ll just tell you what I think happened based on what I¡¯ve heard." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. I leaned forward, listening intently. "Alright." Jay whistled low, as if trying to shake off a bad memory. "Matt and Rick had...some differences. Not unusual for guys who¡¯ve been hunting and trekking together for years, but this time it got ugly. They had a huge fight in that same cabin Neuman stayed in, only a year after his death. No one knows what the fight was about¡ªmaybe it was something trivial, or maybe it was something serious. But whatever it was, it went far enough that Rick ended up killing Matt." I felt my jaw drop, and my pulse quickened as Jay continued. "As if that wasn¡¯t enough, things got even worse. Right after the fight, a wild animal¡ªsome say it was a bear, others swear it was a wolf¡ªcharged into the cabin, drawn in by the noise. The door had been left open in the scuffle, and the creature didn¡¯t waste a second. It attacked Rick first, tore him apart...and then, for some reason, it turned to Matt''s body post mortem and mauled him too." Jay took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I hid one part of the story from you, however. Matt''s gun. It discharged through the cabin''s window. They found a clean hole pierced through Rick¡¯s right ear." I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end, my skin prickling. Jay leaned back, eyes narrowed as he theorized. "My guess? Matt might''ve tried to kill Rick to keep a bigger share of the gold. But Rick got the jump on him first by circling around the cabin. Then the animal just happened to wander in and, well...cleaned up the mess. They say from the claw marks it was either a wolf or a bear, but yeah, it¡¯s still weird." He carefully peeled back the last of the tinfoil. "Oh, the chicken¡¯s done! I¡¯m glad I got us this special chicken," he said proudly, setting it on a paper plate and tearing off a juicy piece. Meanwhile, I grabbed a chicken leg, still feeling slightly uneasy from his stories but trying to shake it off. I took a massive bite, savoring the warmth and flavor, despite the chill of Jay¡¯s tale lingering in my mind. "What¡¯s interesting," I said between bites, "is that even though there are these creepy stories with...you know, unexplained deaths and all, most of the other folks say they''ve experienced nothing unusual." Jay tore into his own piece, chewing thoughtfully. "Well," he replied, "we¡¯ve both got guns with us, we''re not here alone, and we''re brothers, we won''t try and kill eachother. We''ll be alright." He grinned, eyes glinting in the firelight. "Besides, the gold here is worth thousands. Even with these stories, it''s a risk worth taking." The night seemed to press in even darker, swallowing the world beyond our small campsite. The campfire was burning low. I glanced at Jay as we finished up the last bites of our meal and declared, "After we eat, it¡¯s bedtime!" A quick check of my watch confirmed it was already nine. Jay¡¯s plate was slick with grease from the chicken, and he leaned back, looking full but tired. "Hey, grab the trash bags for me." he said, stretching out his hand. "Got it." I took one last bite, savoring the warmth of the meal, already thinking about how much food we¡¯d need tomorrow. I made my way around the tent, tossed my plate and bones inside the bag, and handed it to Jay, who added his as well. Once everything was in, I tied a knot¡ªa loose one, easy to undo in the morning¡ªand tossed the bag toward the tree line, far enough away to discourage any scavenging animals from sniffing around camp overnight. I stifled a yawn, feeling the day¡¯s weariness set in, and just as the fire sputtered out, we turned toward the tent. Inside, two sleeping bags were spread out side by side, with a compact, foldable shelf in the corner holding our spare clothes and the guns we¡¯d brought along. I slipped into my sleeping bag, pulling the top snug over me, warmth creeping in as I settled down. Jay was rustling around beside me, getting comfortable in his own bag. My eyes were already drooping shut when I mumbled, "Goodnight, Jay." Jay shifted onto his side, his voice soft in the darkness. "Goodnight." Murderer Five hours later, I stirred awake, groggy and disoriented, as a faint but insistent pressure at my legs pulled me from the warm cocoon of sleep. My mind hazily registered the sensation, a subtle urge pressing against my consciousness, urging me to get up. I shifted, feeling the stiffness in my body from the night spent on the thin tent floor. Stretching my arms forward, I pushed my hands down, gradually inching my way out of the snug confines of my sleeping bag. I can''t see jack. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I sighed, realizing I needed to go to the bathroom. Carefully, I crab-walked my way toward the tent entrance, mindful not to disturb the stillness of Jay''s sleep. I fumbled for the zipper, the metallic sound slicing through the quiet as I peeled the tent flap open. A yawn escaped my lips, and I stretched my arms over my head, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands. The night enveloped me in a thick, inky darkness, and I squinted, struggling to adjust. Shadows loomed around me, trees swaying gently as if alive under the moonlight. I took a few cautious steps, each one a careful placement to avoid tripping over branches or unseen rocks. Slowly, I shuffled to the edge of the camp, pausing as I reached a spot that felt comfortably distant but close enough not to get lost. I weighed the idea of going further in, but the thought of wandering through the dark, unfamiliar woods alone made my skin prickle. I shrugged to myself, deciding it was safe enough here. I figured the smell wouldn¡¯t linger or bother us anyway¡ªplus, not to sound strange, but I took good care of my digestive health. "Jack, come over here for a second." Jay''s voice called out, sharp and distinct, slicing through my ears. My breath caught in my throat as I froze. What? Jay? The voice had come from my right side, just out of view. But the thing was... I was sure Jay was back in the tent, sound asleep. My heart began to pound. This isn''t right. Panic clawed its way up my chest, and my mind raced, grasping for an explanation. And then, like a sudden flash of clarity, I remembered something¡ªa tale I¡¯d brushed off as just a spooky campfire story. This was what Neuman went through. The forest played tricks on the mind, conjuring voices and shadows from thin air. But as far as Neuman¡¯s story went, that was the extent of it¡ªjust illusions, unsettling but harmless. "Jack! Damn it, come here! I found some gold!" Jay''s voice rang out again, sharper and more insistent this time. And then, in an impossible twist, something small and metallic gleamed near my foot. I glanced down, and there, unmistakable in the dim light, lay a small pile of gold coins glinting as if they¡¯d been freshly minted. My mouth went dry. This forest¡­ it makes you see things, too? Not just voices¡­ but objects? I nudged the coins tentatively with the toe of my socks, half-expecting my foot to pass straight through them like they were smoke. But they didn¡¯t waver or flicker¡ªthey felt real, tangible, solid. They even clinked slightly as I kicked them. It''s real! Squinting in the darkness, I scanned the area where the gold had supposedly come from, my gaze searching for any movement, any hint of a figure. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Just then, I heard a shuffling sound from the tent. The flap rustled, and I whipped my head back in time to see Jay poking his head out, his face drowsy and half-hidden in shadows. "Jack? What are you doing out there?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His voice was groggy, familiar, and uncharacteristically clueless. My blood ran cold as I stared at him. That¡¯s the real Jay. I was sure of it. My eyes darted back to the coins, and then toward the spot in the woods from which the fake Jay''s voice had echoed. If Jay¡¯s right here¡­ then who¡­ threw me that gold? In the unviewable distance, the distant sound of leaves rustled. I whirled around, heart racing, and yelled into the darkness, "Go away, bastard!" My voice echoed, fierce and unwavering, as I hastily zipped up my pants, every muscle in my body tensing, ready for a fight. The tent flap rustled again, and Jay stepped out, his face set in a hard line. "Are you talking to me?!" he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of anger. He squinted in my direction. His tone caught me off guard for a second, and I quickly shook my head, waving a hand to dispel his rising frustration. "No, you idiot!" I shot back, keeping my voice firm. "There was somebody out here!" Jay¡¯s eyes widened as he processed my words. His hand instinctively hovered over the holster on his hip, fingers flexing over the grip of his pistol. "What? Where did they go?!" His voice dropped to a tense whisper as he moved closer, positioning himself beside me, his body rigid and alert, scanning the surrounding trees. I gestured ahead, toward the direction I¡¯d heard the noise. "Back into the forest." I muttered. "It¡¯s not worth it chasing him now. Whoever it was¡­ they tried to bait me with gold." I bent down and picked up the heavy coin lying in the dirt, turning it over in my hand, feeling its cold, metallic weight. "Look at this," I murmured, holding it up to the moonlight, which glinted off its surface. "this is a huge piece. It has to be a pound." Jay¡¯s stance relaxed a little, though his eyes remained watchful as he eyed the coin in my hand. "Go back to sleep." he said finally, his voice low but steady. "I''ll stay on watch for the night." I hesitated, glancing back into the shadowy woods. Should we just leave now? Whoever¡¯s out there, whoever¡¯s playing these games¡ªthey could be the same person responsible for those murders. I swallowed, then looked back at Jay, who was already scanning the perimeter. "We¡¯ll leave after panning for one day." I explained, my voice quiet but resolute. "We should be able to recuperate our losses with that." There was a moment of silence before Jay nodded, his jaw set with understanding. "Fine." he agreed, "I¡¯m getting the fire started. I¡¯ll stay on watch, and we¡¯ll switch off in three hours."