Seb laid his head back down, low mumbling leaking from his lips — probably an unholy prayer to every god responsible for shoving him onto the losing end of life's lottery. Luck? Nonexistent. Absolutely non-existent.
It wasn't normal. His dad had gone missing three or four times over the last decade — the second disappearance nearly killed his mom from stress alone. Then the family, elite top-20 moneybags who once rubbed elbows in the top 10 of the country's richest, kicked her out for marrying Seb's dad — an act they considered heresy. His father vanished again, labelled a terrorist by public decree, and here Seb was… trapped in a cauldron of supernatural nonsense with a man-woman duo he didn't even know, plus three blissfully oblivious morons who thought camping in a forest where two people had died, on Halloween, was a brilliant idea. Genius level: maximum.
"Kids, is there a problem?" The middle-aged man's voice cut through his thoughts. Worry furrowed his brow. He didn't understand them — why run, then come back? Something had to have chased them.
"Boss, do we set up the equipment now or wait till midnight?" Andrew muttered, adjusting his layered glasses like a mad scientist attaching them to a random contraption pulled from his bag.
The man nodded, then turned to the woman. "Mind checking on them? They look distressed." He walked off, hands busy with the gear.
She approached, lowering herself into a squat to meet Seb and Chloe eye-to-eye, a soft, warm smile painting her features.
"Are you two alright?" she asked.
The woman — Isabella — radiated the warmth of a comforting older sister. Her eyes sparkled with patience, but her posture screamed, I'm ready for chaos.
"Hi. Name's Isabella, but you can call me Bella. That's Mike, and the other is Andrew — we're a documentary crew." She paused, eyes scanning their pale faces. "You two look distressed… well, him mostly. Did something scare you back there?"
Seb didn't respond. Chloe, naturally, took the chance to convey just how utterly doomed they were.
Chloe's eyes dulled, resignation etched into every line of her face. "We're trapped forever," she said, her voice hoarse, almost hollow.
"Trapped?" Isabella echoed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Uh… trapped where? Oh — you mean lost? Don't worry, our crew can guide you out. We know the—"
She cut herself off when Chloe shook her head sharply, panic flitting across her features. Seb simultaneously let out a sigh loud enough to echo in his own skull.
"No. We can't. None of us can leave. Something's prevent—" cough, cough "…preventing us."
"Hold on, I'll get you water." Isabella turned, shouting, "Mike, toss me a bottle!"
Mike heaved it blindly over his shoulder. It collided with Seb's skull like a cursed projectile.
"FUCK!" Seb howled, clutching his head. He shot Isabella a glare, then turned to find the real culprit.
Andrew froze, scratching his forehead in horror. "My aim sucks. Sorry about that."
"Sorry?" Seb snapped. "I haven't eaten in hours, and you decide to give me a concussion? You're inhumane, you absolute madman."
"You haven't eaten?" Isabella asked, eyes wide. "Did you not bring supplies?"
The marked trail barely stretched twenty meters. How could anyone get this lost?
"I've told you… we're trapped," Chloe muttered. "Check it yourself. I'm not crazy. He might be, but I'm not. And yes, I'm hungry. Please, tell me you have food."
"Of course," Isabella said, signaling Andrew. He quickly handed over a couple of takeaway boxes.
Seb and Chloe devoured them like starving wolves that had just found a lamb buffet.
Meanwhile, the documentary crew returned to their work: tripods went up, camera angles adjusted, clearing mapped. Mike crouched, scribbling location grids in a notebook. Andrew fiddled with wires and lenses, muttering something about signal integrity.
By the time Seb and Chloe finished eating, the crew seemed ready — until Seb approached the monitors and saw nothing but static.
"Signal bad?" he asked, irritation still sharp from his head injury.
Andrew winced. "Bro… I was terrible at basketball in school."
"You don't SAY," Seb deadpanned. "I honestly thought you intentionally sniped me with god-tier precision. It wasn't even the bottle — just the corner of the cap. That's Olympic-level aim right there."
Andrew sheepishly smiled. "Yeah… the signal's dead. Weird — we're on a wired feed. I'll check the cables." He yawned and wandered off.
Seb offered to watch the screens. Minutes later, Mike and Andrew returned, looking concerned.
"What happened?" Seb asked immediately.
"The—""—equipment—" They spoke over each other before Mike took the lead.
"I'm a geomancer. Well… in training," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Tried scrying for spirit interference. Nothing. Not a trace. This place seems… fake. Waste of time."
Andrew added, "The equipment's busted. Totally useless, even if there was a spirit here."
"You've dealt with real spirits before?" Seb asked, raising an eyebrow.
They nodded. Andrew continued, "Yeah. We document hauntings, violent deaths, cursed sites. Protection is key. Spirits rarely attack unless provoked. Mike tells us what not to touch, and we avoid trigger words."
Seb glanced toward the half-unearthed flower. "That one of those?"
"Nope," Mike said flatly. "If there were ghosts here, maybe. But there aren't. Not even a grain of lingering energy."
"Isn't that weird?" Seb asked.
Mike shook his head, bending to pack the equipment.
"Since there's nothing, we're leaving. Uh… Seb, right?" Seb nodded. "False sites happen — places with no ghosts. Tickets, historical research, scouting — all expensive. Real hauntings? Not cheap."
"So… profit?" Seb pressed.
Mike shrugged. "Capture a real apparition, footage sells for 10k+. Movable cursed items? Way more."
Seb's eyes went wide. "Wait… how much do you spend researching?"
"At best, 2k. Worst, 8k. Today, 11k. Thought it'd pay off."
"What does Isabella do?"
Andrew perked up. "She's our sketch artist. Draws apparitions instantly. Maps layouts perfectly."
20 minutes later…
Packing finished. Mike turned to the kids.
"You're not coming? If you want, follow us. No problem."
Seb hesitated. "I'll try to find a way out. If I do… I'll come back." He glanced at Chloe.
"Sure," Chloe murmured, lying back to stare at the darkening sky.
The group walked to the barricade. Andrew struggled climbing; Seb helped him over. They reached the tall shrubs separating the path from the clearing.
Crossed through…
…and immediately saw Chloe, lying on the ground, chin propped on her hand, staring at them.
She sighed, flopped back down.
Seb trudged to her side, laying down beside her, mirroring her exhausted groan.
Mike: […] Andrew: […] Isabella: […]
"Did we follow the wrong path, boss?" Andrew asked.
"I… I'm not sure," Mike replied. He glanced at Isabella who was muttering quietly, pale, realization dawning.
They tried again, splitting paths, checking every marked route.
Too bad.
Every path led them right back to the clearing.
Seb and Chloe lay on the ground, elbows propped, watching the adults flail around like a low-budget comedy sketch.
A long silence…
Then —
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Andrew screamed, shattering the quiet into oblivion