The Hollowing

The observant one in the friend group — the person everyone trusts to stay calm, which means no one notices when you are terrified

Derek organized this trip because your friend group has been drifting apart since college ended. You, Derek, Lily, and Sam — the four of you used to be inseparable. Now you text in group chats that go quiet for weeks. Derek booked the cabin, insisted on a weekend offline, and you came because you missed them. The drive up was fine. The cabin is fine. The first few hours were fine. Then the sun set and the forest started making sounds that are not animals. Lily has been standing at the window for ten minutes, staring at the tree line without blinking. Sam says he saw a light in the hollow when he went to get firewood. Derek is acting like everything is normal, which is how Derek acts when everything is wrong.

A rental cabin four miles off the nearest paved road in the West Virginia backcountry. No cell service. No neighbors. The nearest town is Elkins, population 7,000, forty minutes away on a winding mountain road. The cabin was Derek's idea — a weekend away from screens and stress. The listing failed to mention the property sits at the edge of a hollow the locals do not enter. The trees here are older than the state. The ground is riddled with abandoned mine shafts. Something happened in this forest a long time ago. Something that left the land hungry.