Bus 99

After a bus crash, 13-year-old Eliza wakes in a surreal realm of lurking terrors.

It was a night cloaked in whispers and half-forgotten legends, a night when the air held its breath and the moon was hidden behind a veil of tormenting fog. They said that on this eerie evening, Bus 99 began its journey back home, carrying within its metal frame not only weary souls but the seed of a tale that would be etched into the annals of local folklore.

Gather 'round the crackling campfire, my friends, and listen as I recount the macabre events of that fateful night—a night when routine met the unthinkable. Picture the scene: a middle school field trip that ended not in laughter, but in screams and shattered dreams. As the bus rumbled quietly under the weight of stolen childhood moments, fate intervened with a twist of cruel irony.

It began with a sudden, fleeting disturbance—a deer, swift and spectral in the dim light, darting across the road like a ghost of the forest. The driver, ever so cautious, found himself locked in a desperate battle with destiny. The wheels spun into chaos, the bus swerved in frantic dance, and before anyone could scream its name, it careened off the road, hurling itself over the guard rail into a yawning chasm.

In the aftermath of that unspeakable calamity, among 22 startled students, one dedicated teacher, four parent volunteers with hearts pounding in a symphony of fear, and the driver whose fate was sealed by a cruel twist of fortune, only one figure remained—a lone beacon of survival. Thirteen-year-old Eliza Novak bruised and bloodied, her spirit unyielding even as death lurked at every shadowed corner.

Crawling through the shattered remnants of the bus, Eliza emerged into a forest engulfed by a fog so dense it erased the very boundaries between the living and the spectral. With every step she took into that mysterious darkness, the night grew alive with unsettling murmurs and the rustle of unseen horrors. And in that moment, it felt as though the forest itself were a silent witness to a story that would haunt the hearts of those brave enough to speak of it for generations to come...

****

The chill of that cursed night seeped into Eliza’s bones as she stumbled away from the twisted wreckage. Every ragged breath she took mingled with the fog—a relentless companion on her uncertain journey. With each step deeper into the dark embrace of the forest, her mind became a battleground of terror and disbelief.

Eliza’s heart pounded like a frantic drum in the silence. The forest, a labyrinth of gnarled trees and haunting shadows, seemed to whisper secrets of lost souls. Every snap of a twig, every rustle among the leaves, made her flinch and glance over her shoulder, as if the ghost of the bus and its tragic past still pursued her. The isolation was absolute, and in that overwhelming solitude, she felt the burden of every unanswered question and each unspoken fear.

The sound of her shallow breaths and her own trembling heartbeat was the only reminder that she still clung to life. With bruised limbs and a spine etched in pain, Eliza fought through the haze of agony and despair. She recalled fragments of the friendly chatter from the field trip, now a distant echo overshadowed by the monstrous silence around her. In the depths of the forest, where the reality of the accident and the grim possibility of solitude merged, the girl’s determination grew as fierce as the primal urge to survive.

Every step was a battle against nature itself—against the biting cold that threatened to freeze her resolve, against the unyielding sentiment that the forest was alive and watching her every move. The fog, thick like spilled ink across the landscape, seemed to cloak phantom figures in its swirls. In the dim starlight, Eliza’s eyes picked out eerie, broken silhouettes of branches that twisted like outstretched arms, reaching for her with a desperate hunger.

Haunted by the fading cries of her lost companions and encircled by the sinister murmur of the woods, she pressed forward, clinging to what remained of her courage. Each shattered piece of glass she passed, lying like shards of lost hope on the ground, reminded her of the life she had barely escaped from. Yet within her, a spark ignited—a will to uncover the secrets hidden within the mist, a need to find help, and a faint hope that the legends whispered by old firesides might hold the truth of rescue.

In the oppressive gloom, as every step led her deeper into the unknown, Eliza’s inner turmoil roared louder than the thudding of her heart. The forest seemed determined to test her spirit with every unseen terror—each rustle, each shadow weaving tales of sorrow and regret. But it was in this very crucible of terror that the young girl discovered a resilience far beyond her years; an unyielding determination to rewrite the ending of her nightmare and to echo her story in the hallowed halls of folklore for generations to come.

****

Eliza pressed on, each step a battle against a rising tide of dread. The murmur of the forest, once a gentle lullaby of wind through leaves, had transformed into an ominous symphony. Every rustle, every crack of a twig underfoot carried with it the weight of unseen eyes upon her.

As she ventured further into the heart of the woods, the path became a tapestry of shadows and shifting shapes. The fog, now a thick shroud, clung to every surface, distorting reality and blurring the lines between the tangible and the surreal. With every desperate breath, Eliza struggled to navigate the labyrinth of trees, her senses heightened to the sound of something relentlessly closing in on her.

Then, amid the eerie stillness, she heard it—the unmistakable crunch of footsteps echoing in the underbrush. The sound was measured, almost predatory. At first, they mimicked her own troubled pace, but gradually, they increased in confidence, a sinister accompaniment to her isolation. Each step resonated like the tolling of a ghastly bell, a reminder that she was not alone in this forsaken place.

Eliza’s pulse quickened, her mind racing with a swirling mix of terror and disbelief. Was it the lingering spirit of the night’s horror, or something far more sinister stalking her through the dense tapestry of nature? The relentless echo of footsteps made it clear: whatever was behind her was not simply a figment of her fevered imagination.

Her heart pounding, she dared to quicken her pace, forcing herself to move despite the crushing terror. With every step, the sensation of eyes surveilling her grew more oppressive, the ominous sound now a constant, unnerving companion. Her trembling hands clenched, grappling with the edges of sanity, while her breath came in short, uneven bursts in the frigid night.

And then, as the cacophony of footsteps reached a crescendo, a moment of paralyzing silence fell upon the forest. Eliza stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, in a trance, she dared to turn her eyes upward. There, just beyond the halo of her feeble light, shrouded in the mist and midnight gloom, she saw it—a pair of eyes, piercing and unyielding, staring intently back at her.

What lurked behind those eyes? The answer remained hidden in the depths of the forest, as the night held its dark breath, leaving Eliza suspended in terror at the threshold of an unimaginable horror...

****

Eliza’s terror surged as the creature’s grotesque smile widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth stained with gore and remnants of its grisly feast. The forest soundscape vanished into an oppressive silence, as if nature itself recoiled at the horror before her. Every instinct screamed to run, yet her legs were shackled by a mix of paralyzing fear and disbelief.

In that disquieting moment, the creature stepped forward from the dim veil of fog, its unnerving eyes locked onto Eliza's with a chilling intensity that seemed to pierce through the darkness. The feverish blisters on its chest continued their macabre pulsation, echoing the rhythm of a long-forgotten nightmare. With each precise, measured step, the creature’s bare feet left prints in the moist earth, traces of its sinister passage.

Caught in the crossfire of her own swirling panic, Eliza could only stare. The air felt heavy, pregnant with the promise of impending doom. She tried to move—her body screaming for flight—yet the horror of the unfolding scene rooted her momentarily to the spot. The creature raised one long, clawed hand, its motion fluid yet deliberate, as if inviting her into an abyss of unfathomable terror.

And just as the cold tendrils of fear gripped her heart completely, the creature tilted its head ever so slightly, and from its gaping maw came a sound—a low, guttural laugh that resonated deep within the shadows. At that very heartbeat of hesitation, Eliza’s eyes widened in fatal realization.

Before she could react further, the figure’s crimson gaze shone with an unholy promise. The creature’s now fully revealed visage thrust itself into the dim light as it advanced, and with a dreadful anticipation hanging in the silent air, Eliza’s trembling foot slipped on the slick forest ground.

In that split second as the world tilted, she looked up, meeting the creature’s eyes—a searing, final moment of unspeakable horror that left her suspended on the brink of an unimaginable fate...

****

Eliza’s heart pounded as the cave’s cold darkness enveloped her. The many jagged dislocations on the stone walls, punctuated by unforgiving metal bars, reminded her of a long-forgotten prison. With each ragged breath, tiny clouds of steam burst from her lips, vanishing into the surrounding chill as quickly as they appeared. In the oppressive silence, the realization of her confinement sparked a vivid panic that sent her trembling fingers scrabbling at the bars. The freezing metal provoked an instinctive recoil, leaving her hands numb and disgustingly cold.

Her eyes, struggling to adjust to the suffocating darkness, betrayed a flicker of hope for an escape route. With measured caution, she scanned every inch of her claustrophobic cell, desperately looking for even the slightest sign of an exit. A lone echo finally answered her plea as she cautiously called out, “Hello?” Slowly, the cavern swallowed her voice until it echoed back with eerie emptiness.

Just as despair began to seep in, another voice, fragile yet unmistakably human, reverberated through the oppressive gloom: “Hello? Is someone there?”

Eliza’s pulse quickened. The voice was distinctly male—soft, fatigued, and yet holding a glimmer of compassion in its tone. Despite her innate fear, she fought against despair and lunged forward with newfound resolve, careful not to restart her earlier mistake of touching the unforgiving metal. “Who are you?” she whispered in a blend of caution and desperation.

A pause filled the frigid air until the faint echo responded, “My name is Jacob.”
“How did you get here?” Eliza pressed, her voice trembling as her mind raced through images of that menacing creature and the eerie fog.
There was a moment’s silence before Jacob offered a fractured smile through his words, “I’m guessing the same way you did.” His voice trembled slightly.
Eliza's brow furrowed in confusion. “But I have no idea how I got here. I was in a bus crash, and when I came to, everyone on the bus was dead. Now I'm trapped in this ghastly place.”

There was no response.

“Jacob? Are you there?” she asked, her voice edged with worry.

After a long, heavy pause, he answered, “We shouldn’t be talking. He’ll hear us.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his name—I just call him ‘The Phantom.’ You never know when he'll vanish or reappear.”

“I'm Eliza,” she declared, trying to sound steadier than she felt.

“Eliza, you must be quiet, or—”

Before he could finish, heavy footsteps began to trudge toward her cell.

“Oh shit,” Jacob gasped, panic rising in his tone. “Just stay quiet.”

The footsteps then took an unexpected turn and began moving away from the cell. Moments later, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from somewhere in the darkness, reverberating off the cave walls.

“Jacob, what’s happening?” Eliza shouted, her anxiety mounting. The screams grew louder and seemed to retreat further into the night.

“Jacob, please, talk to me!” she urged, her voice trembling with urgency. The screams gradually dwindled into a faint murmur before abruptly ceasing altogether. “Jacob?” she called, the silence echoing ominously.

Receiving no response, Eliza instinctively backed into the far corner of her cell. She crouched down, drawing her knees close to her chest in a feeble attempt to garner warmth, as the crushing darkness swallowed her whole.

****

Eliza sat there, shivering as the cave's bitter cold seeped into her bones. The darkness around her seemed to whisper insidiously, wrapping her in a cloak of loneliness as she rocked back and forth, trying to summon some semblance of warmth. Her knees, drawn tightly to her chest, offered little solace against the unyielding frost that filled the cell.

In those bleak moments, memories began to claw at the edges of her mind. Slowly, the image of her stepmother, Clara, appeared unbidden—a reminder of a time when Eliza felt fragments of love amidst the chaos of rebellion. The memory of their last encounter unfolded vividly in her thoughts.

Eliza recalled how Clara's voice had trembled with concern, pleading with her to conform. Her father and Clara had never approved of Hank, the boy who illuminated her world with his quiet defiance, a stark contrast to the suffocating expectations of family life. While her father longed for a night of popcorn and movies at home, Eliza had insisted she was already committed to plans with Hank—a declaration that split her family down the middle.

The recollection became more painful as she remembered how Clara had tried to reach out, desperate to mend the rift. But Eliza's words had been a brutal finality: “You’re not my mother, so just mind your business and stay the fuck out of my life.” It was a moment of raw anger, of pain and rebellion, born from the sting of feeling trapped under expectations that never understood her.

Now, as the cold pressed in relentlessly and the uncertainty of her fate loomed large, Eliza wondered if she would ever see her family again. The isolation in the cave was a stark reminder of the distance growing between her fractured world and the loved ones she left behind. Each shiver not only battered her frozen form but echoed the hurt of those past words—a lullaby of regret mingled with the relentless chill.

Lost in the labyrinth of recollections and the creeping despair of her surroundings, Eliza's mind wrestled with questions: Could reconciliation ever bloom between duty and her own spirited defiance? Or was she destined, like the bitter cold around her, to remain frozen in place, both physically and emotionally?

The cave, indifferent and unyielding, mirrored the vast emptiness inside her, as she continued to rock in a futile dance with isolation, hoping for warmth in a place where even the darkness seemed to conspire with the cold.

****

Eliza awoke with a start, her lips blue and fingers-tinged crimson from the relentless cold. The silence of the cave remained undisturbed, an oppressive reminder of her isolation. As she slowly rose, she noticed something—or rather, the absence of it—the door to her cell now stood open. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, she stepped out, her boots whispering against the cold stone floor.

Peering into the black void that stretched endlessly before her, she hesitated at the threshold of familiarity, her hands instinctively waving in the darkness to feel for hidden obstructions in her path. The unknown loomed around every corner until, unexpectedly, a faint glimmer of light appeared in the distance. A soft exhale of relief escaped her lips, and she began moving toward it, hope rekindled by the promise of something beyond this frigid prison.

Then, amidst the quiet, a voice—light and almost childlike—cut through the darkness.

"I wouldn’t go that way," the voice cautioned.

Startled, Eliza's heart skipped a beat as she called out, "Who is that?"

The mysterious voice responded, "He’ll surely find you if you go that way."

Eliza paused, her breath forming little clouds as she blew into her hands, seeking any scrap of warmth. "Which way is safe?" she inquired, her voice trembling slightly between fear and determination.

There was a pregnant pause where the only sound was the echo of her own questions in the cavernous void. "Hello?" she called again, her voice bouncing off unseen walls. Just then, her eyes widened in disbelief as a figure began to emerge from the unyielding blackness.

A small, almost ethereal boy materialized before her. He seemed no more than eight or nine years old, with skin as white as powdered snow that contrasted starkly against the dark backdrop.

The left half of his face was missing—not from some tragic accident, but as if an unseen hand had erased every detail, leaving nothing but smooth, featureless skin. On the right side, a single yellowish eye glowed with an eerie intensity, serving as a lone beacon in the suffocating darkness. A jagged scar traced a menacing line from the corner of his mouth, skirting just below the ear.

With deliberate steps, the boy advanced, his whole figure coming into view. Eliza’s eyes widened as she took in each uncanny detail: his left foot, disturbingly altered into an animal’s hoof, contrasted starkly with his human-like right foot.

“What’s your name?” she murmured softly, her voice a mixture of curiosity and unease.

“Grover,” the boy replied in a low, timid tone, his words barely audible in the vast silence of the cavern.

“Do you live here?” Eliza pressed gently.

“Mmm-hmm,” came his quiet, uncertain response.

“And your parents?”

“I…I’m not sure.”

Eliza’s mind raced with questions, but her immediate concern was survival. “Do you… do you know how to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

A wave of relief swept over her, and she inhaled deeply. “I really need to get home.”

“Where’s home?” Grover inquired, his voice tinged with a fragile hope.

“Scranton. It’s in Pennsylvania. Have you heard of Pennsylvania?”

Grover shook his head slowly. “Is it nice there?”

“Yes. I miss it terribly,” Eliza’s voice softened with yearning, the distant memory of warmth and familiar faces buoying her spirits amidst the cold unknown. “So, can you help me?”

"Okay, but we must be silent—if we’re not careful, he’ll hear us," Grover warned.

Eliza extended her trembling hand, unaware that frostbite was already claiming her skin. Grover hesitated for a fleeting moment; his gaze fixated on her hand with a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.

“It’s okay,” she reassured softly, “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Slowly, almost tentatively, Grover reached out. Their hands met, and as Eliza closed her fingers around his, she marveled at the warmth emanating from him—like a hidden furnace cutting through the frigid gloom.

“Aren’t you cold?” she inquired, her voice laced with both concern and wonder.

Grover simply shook his head, his eyes conveying the unspoken mysteries of this subterranean place.

“Okay. Lead the way,” Eliza whispered, determination mingling with the lingering chill.

****

Grover’s eyes had sparked with urgency as he led Eliza through the twisting corridors of the cave. He halted before a hidden crack in the weathered stone wall—a fissure barely wide enough to admit a human body. The promise of escape flickered in the dim light.

Without hesitation, Eliza approached the narrow opening, her heart pounding in tandem with the drumming of her frantic pulse. Just as she began to squeeze herself into the jagged gap, the cavern trembled with the sound of thunderous footsteps, reverberating like the echo of a monstrous beast.

"He's awake! Keep going! I’ll distract him," Grover hissed, his voice a blend of fear and determination.

"No! You must come with me," Eliza pleaded, reaching for him.

His eyes darkened with a sorrowful resolve. "I can’t. This is my home. You get back to yours, Miss Eliza." Without another word, he vanished into the obsidian shadows, swallowed by the void.

"Wait..." she cried, her voice lost in the mounting din. But the sound of gratitude had dissolved into the echo of his departure.

The footsteps pounded nearer, each reverberation a violent assault on her senses, and the cavern vibrated with an excruciating, guttural growl that bounced off unseen walls. Desperation surged within her as she worked to free her frozen, stubborn foot from the jagged stone of the crack, the promise of escape just within her reach.

"Come on!" she urged herself, teeth gritted against the encroaching dread, pulling against the unyielding grip of the stone. Her efforts were relentless, each tug a battle against both time and the oppressive dark.

Suddenly, the relentless sound of footsteps crashed toward her with an earth-shattering force. Out of the darkness, two fiery red dots materialized, blazing with a fierce intensity as they surged directly toward her—a nightmarish vision descending upon her fragile hope.

Eliza strained mightily, her muscles taut with desperation. With one final, forceful tug, she managed to wrench her foot free. In that heart-stopping instant, however, a monstrous hand—vast and sinister—lashed out, its razor-sharp claws raking along the side of her boot, leaving deep, jagged marks. Gritting her teeth against the searing pain, Eliza scrambled upright, her heart hammering. Without a moment's pause, she plunged into the enveloping darkness of the forest, her every step echoing her urgent desire to escape the creature's looming presence.

****

Eliza’s pulse thundered as she trudged through the woods, frostbite creeping relentlessly up her right hand. Her fingers numbed, she fought to clench them in a vain bid to stave off the bitter cold. The eerie silence of the forest was abruptly shattered by the snap of twigs underfoot.

“Oh shit,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper as her heart pounded in her ears.

Cautiously, she inched forward, every step measured and laden with dread. Pausing abruptly, her eyes widened in horror at the surreal tableau before her. There, in a clearing, a wolfman – a grotesque fusion of man and beast – stood upright. In one massive, clawed hand, he held a crude leash attached to a naked human man, forced into a demeaning position on all fours. The man’s eyes were wild, and his exposed fangs glistened with a feral menace, as if nature itself had been twisted into something unrecognizable.

Eliza’s knees threatened to buckle as she began a timid retreat, her mind racing for an escape.

The wolfman’s voice, low and gruff, broke the tension. “Easy there, Buster,” he addressed his chained companion, his grip tightening slightly on the leash. “We’re not sure yet if this human is friend or food.” He turned his gaze to Eliza, his eyes gleaming with a strange mix of curiosity and caution. “What do you say, stranger? A friend to share a moment with, or should I let ol' Buster here have a feast before the cold devours your carcass entirely?”

Before Eliza could muster a reply, the chilling atmosphere pressed in around her. The creature’s words hung heavy in the frigid air, and time seemed to suspend as the forest held its breath in anticipation of the next, fateful move.

Without a moment's hesitation, Eliza blurted, “Friend! I’m definitely a friend.”

The wolfman's unblinking stare held her captive for a heartbeat as he weighed his next move. Finally, he replied, “Well, alright. I suppose we can try this—for now.”

"Give what a try?” she asked, her voice trembling with cautious hope.

“Having you as our guest. I haven't hosted anyone in these parts for a hundred years. Consider yourself royalty, if only for a little while.”

Despite her chattering teeth, she managed a grateful, “Thank you.”

“Follow us then,” he commanded softly, glancing at his unusual companion. “We need to get you warm; otherwise, you won’t last another minute against this cold.”

With that, the wolfman and his bizarre charge turned and strode away into the shadowy forest. Eliza, her resolve rekindled by their unexpected welcome, broke into a determined jog as she followed their retreating figures into the unknown.

****

Seated by the warm glow of the crackling fire, Eliza wrapped the thick blanket around her shoulders. The cabin exuded an elegant rustic charm, its timbers darkened with age and hidden amidst a dense fog bank that swirled like lost memories deep in the forest. The soft clamor of the fire mingled with the gentle creak of logs settling into the hearth, crafting a cocoon of quiet intimacy.

Across the modest room, Buster—still in his odd state of existence—laid sprawled on an oversized dog bed fashioned from soft lamb skin. His presence, though unusual, lent the space an air of otherworldly peculiarity. The faint, steady breathing of the creature within the bed punctuated the silence.

The wolfman, his features softened by the dancing light, emerged from the cabin’s ancient wood-fired oven carrying a tray adorned with sizzling meat kebabs. With a pragmatic air and a hint of mischief in his eyes, he approached Eliza. Without a second thought, she reached out and snatched a kebab, biting into it with the hunger of one long starved by both cold and solitude. Her ravenous enthusiasm drew a subtle smile from him; he set the tray neatly atop a weathered coffee table and took a seat on a timeworn couch that creaked under his weight.

For a while, the room settled into a comfortable pause—a shared respite between two unlikely souls from disparate worlds. Eventually, the wolfman broke the silence. His voice, deep and laced with a tinge of gravity, inquired gently, “How did you come to find yourself here, in this forgotten corner of existence?”

Eliza, leaning forward with a genuine curiosity tempered by lingering fear, countered, “And what exactly is this place? It feels like… not of this world at all.”

A flicker of enigmatic delight passed over his eyes as he began to speak, his tone both eerie and uncomfortably intimate. “This realm,” he began slowly, “is known to few as Threnyria—a transient land that exists between the breaths of time and the echoes of forgotten souls. It’s a sanctuary for the outcasts of reality, a borderland where your deepest fears and hidden desires intertwine with the mystic forces of nature.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his words hang in the smoke-laden air. “In Threnyria, the line between man and beast, mortal and legend, blurs beyond recall. Here, the land itself is alive—watching, whispering, and sometimes even intervening. The fog that blankets the woods is not mere mist, but the lingering traces of ancient spells, cast long ago by those desperate to preserve the fragile balance of this domain. It is a realm where time moves differently, where memories weave themselves into the present, and where every shadow might conceal a secret story waiting to be told.”

As his words sank in, the firelight seemed to dance more wildly, as if echoing the mysticism of his tale. Eliza listened intently, her hunger momentarily forgotten, replaced by a mounting fascination and a quiet dread of the unknown. The wolfman’s narrative was both a lullaby and a warning—a glimpse into a world where beauty and terror intermingled in every breath, every heartbeat, every crackle of the fire.

In that softly lit cabin, wrapped in the warmth of the fire and the weight of newfound knowledge, time held its breath, allowing the threads of their vastly different lives to begin intertwining in the enigmatic tapestry of Threnyria.

****

Nestled under her blanket near the crackling fire, Eliza was barely clinging to sleep when the wolfman’s insistent shake pulled her from the realm of dreams. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his urgent gaze. “I found the portal,” he murmured, his voice ragged with adrenaline, “but we need to move now. I don’t know how much time we have before it closes.”

Without a moment's hesitation, the wolfman led the way into the icy night, Buster’s nose pressed firmly to the ground as the leash tightened with each determined step. Despite the fierce gusts of wind that battered them and the swirling fog that obscured their path, Eliza tugged her blanket close and struggled forward, her eyes straining against the ethereal haze.

“This way!” the wolfman shouted over the howling wind. With every step, the swirling lights ahead grew in intensity. The object before them was a spectacle of vibrant hues—a mesmerizing blend of deep blues and soft pinks, dancing and coalescing in mid-air like a miniature galaxy orbiting an unseen celestial body. Its radiance painted the forest in surreal strokes, casting otherworldly shadows on the frost-laden ground.

“There it is!” the wolfman exclaimed, his long, sinewy finger, hidden in tendrils of matted, shaggy hair, pointing resolutely at the spectacle. Eliza could feel an inexplicable pull—a sense of longing and belonging as she beheld the luminous portal. She imagined the comforting cocoon of her warm bed, the familiar aroma of her father's eggs and bacon drifting upstairs to gently ease her awake—a memory steeped in solace and home.

As Eliza pressed onward, a distant, haunting howl reverberated through the night. At that sound, Buster’s lips trembled, and his low, menacing growl filled the air. “Easy, boy,” the wolfman murmured, his voice a blend of caution and command.

“What was that?” Eliza asked, her eyes wide with apprehension.

“Death, if we’re not careful,” he replied, his tone edged with urgency. “Let’s move!” Reaching out, he extended his hand, and without hesitation, Eliza grasped it tightly. Together, they bolted toward the portal, its ethereal glow promising a fleeting path to freedom.

Yet, just as they neared salvation—a mere few feet away—Eliza felt her hand suddenly wrenched away. An unseen, formidable force had struck the wolfman, halting their desperate flight in a heartbeat.

The monstrous creature lunged at the wolfman, its attack as violent as a sudden bomb detonation amid the ancient forest. With a resounding boom, the wolfman was thrown to the ground, the impact echoing through the misty woods. Eliza spun around in terror, her eyes capturing the horrifying sight: the creature perched atop him, each razor-sharp finger raking mercilessly at his face, leaving deep lacerations from which crimson blood seeped like scarlet ribbons.

A heart-wrenching howl of agony tore from the wolfman as Eliza scrambled to reach him. Desperation painted his features in pain and urgency. "No! Get to the portal. Now! This may be your only shot!" he cried, his voice strained with the agony of dying embers.

Buster, fierce and loyal as ever, charged at the beast. In a brutal display, Buster clamped onto one of the creature’s ankles. Blood spurted out, a visceral fountain like that of an open hydrant. The creature tilted its head back, unleashing a deafening roar that vibrated with primal fury.

In an instant, it wrenched its grip, shattering Buster’s determined bite, and delivered a savage kick. The attack sent him hurtling through the air until his body collided with a tree in a shattering impact. Struggling to rise, Buster’s strength betrayed him; his movements faltered, and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the forest floor.

The wolfman fumbled along the forest floor, his rough hands brushing against debris until they closed around a jagged rock. With desperate strength, he smashed it against the creature’s face. The impact sent the beast into a stunned, hazy stupor, its features contorting in disoriented pain. Struggling to rise from the shattered earth, the wolfman caught sight of Eliza standing motionless in the distance, her eyes wide with shock.

“What did I say?” he bellowed, his voice raw with urgency. “Go, now!”

Without hesitation, Eliza turned and bolted toward the mesmerizing blue-pink glow of the portal. “Good luck, kid,” the wolfman muttered to himself, his tone both determined and laced with sorrow. Moving with fluid yet lethal precision, he circled the dazed monster. In one swift motion, he seized the creature by the throat, hoisting it high into the air. His claws sank deep into the jugular, the grip tightening as he readied his final strike.

“Your reign of terror over this land ends tonight!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the darkened forest.

At the very moment Eliza reached the portal, she paused and cast one last, heart-wrenching glance over her shoulder. In that split second, her eyes met his—an unspoken farewell exchanged in the depths of their shared struggle. With grim determination, the wolfman tightened his hold even further. In a savage, visceral sweep, he ripped the creature apart. In a spray of crimson, intestines and organs cascaded onto the forest floor, forming a gruesome pool—a final, brutal punctuation to a night of unyielding horror.

Eliza smiled as she pivoted toward the portal, a spark of hope lighting her eyes. She drew a deep, trembling breath before vaulting into the radiant gateway.

Behind her, the wolfman roared a triumphant howl that roiled through the dark forest—a primal sound of victory and defiance that echoed into the void as the portal sealed shut, vanishing as if it had never existed.

Inside the portal, Eliza was engulfed in a dazzling vortex where light and time intertwined. She was pulled at breakneck speed through a kaleidoscopic tunnel of fading colors and shifting realities. Her scream was swallowed by the rush, until, in an instant, the overwhelming brilliance surrendered to a void of utter darkness….

****

Heavily ragged breaths filled the silence as Eliza’s eyes finally snapped open. Gasping, she sat up in bed, her heart still scheming in her chest. The room, at a glance, appeared ordinary—its walls festooned with colorful posters of boy bands and beloved celebrities, each a relic of a seemingly carefree past. Her gaze fell upon her own hands, noting with relief that her skin was warm and unscathed by any trace of the icy ordeal that haunted her dreams.

In the kitchen, her father—still striking in his early forties, with a rugged charm that belied his age—meticulously sealed a turkey sandwich in a Ziploc bag. Dressed for school, Eliza stepped into the aroma-filled room. Her father glanced up, a gentle smile softening his features. “Morning, kiddo.”

“Morning, Dad,” she replied, sliding into a chair at the dining room table tucked into the corner.

“So, you ready?” he inquired, his tone light but laced with anticipation.

“Ready for what?” Eliza asked, her voice betraying a trace of bewilderment.

“Your big field trip. Isn’t today the day your class goes to The Museum of Air and Space?”

As the words hung in the air, Eliza’s expression froze. An inexplicable fear took hold, her eyes widening as if seeing an unseen horror. Her hand, resting on the table, began to tremble uncontrollably. In that fleeting, heart-stopping moment, her skin seemed to chill—transforming instantaneously to a pallid, frost-like hue before life rushed back, leaving her questioning where the nightmare had ended and reality once again begun.