The mystery of the dark forest. Cycle «The fog». The first book

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Amy snorted, adjusting her hood, “but honestly, I’m already freaked out.”

They reached the second floor, where dust hung thick in the air like fog spilled across the floor. The air itself felt heavy and stale, as if the house were holding its breath, watching their every move. Old doors hung crookedly on rusted hinges, letting out quiet moans at the slightest gust of wind. Broken furniture, filthy scraps of fabric, and torn pieces of unfamiliar newspapers littered the floor — like traces of a life cut short suddenly and forever. The rooms felt uninhabited, yet each carried something unsettling. A sensation — as if someone were standing in the corner, watching. Invisible. Cold. Patient.

“Look, this must’ve been a kid’s room,” Alex whispered, peering into one of the rooms and stepping over a half-collapsed threshold. “See the crib?”

“M-mm… and a doll…” Amy hesitantly pointed to a battered toy sitting in the corner. One of the doll’s eyes was missing, and its face was cracked as if it were about to split into a sinister smile. “Oh damn… that’s creepy.”

Alex slowly approached a small table where a music box stood. It looked alien amid the surrounding decay, as if someone had placed it there deliberately not long ago. Beneath the thick layer of dust, ornate carved patterns were barely visible. He ran a finger across the lid, leaving a clean streak — and suddenly the box creaked open on its own with a sharp squeal. A melody spilled out — thin, chiming, sorrowful.

It cut through the silence like a blade, filling the room with a transparent sadness that carried echoes of something childlike, but lost. The notes trembled in the air, as if the house were remembering.

“It’s… beautiful…” Amy whispered, stepping closer. “But scary. Gives me chills.”

Inside the box, a ballerina figurine spun slowly. She rotated steadily, reflected in a cloudy little mirror, as if she were dancing not for them, but for someone — on the other side. Alex leaned in closer and noticed a strange symbol carved into the inside of the lid — a crossed-out eye, etched crudely, yet with a kind of manic precision.

“Have you ever seen a symbol like this?” he asked, pointing at the lid.

“No,” Amy frowned. “But it looks like… a warning. Like ‘don’t look.’ Or ‘don’t let it in’…”

The melody stopped abruptly. And with it — everything seemed to freeze. The air grew dense, viscous, like the moment before a storm. The space felt as though it pressed closer, squeezing them in invisible arms.

And then…

A woman’s scream.

Piercing. Ripping the throat raw. So saturated with fear it felt suffocating. It came from above — from the attic.

“Paula?!” Amy went pale. “That was her!”

Alex bolted, and together they rushed for the stairs. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house, as if it weren’t just two of them running, but dozens of feet pounding the corridors.

Coming toward them were the alarmed Simon and Cheryl, faces tense, hands instinctively clenched into fists.

“What was that scream?” Simon demanded, instantly slipping into action mode.

“From the attic!” Alex shouted. “Paula’s up there!”

They all charged upward together. The steps groaned beneath their feet, and with every step fear tightened around the throat even more. At the attic entrance stood Mark — pale as a sheet, his gaze glassy, lips trembling. He didn’t even try to say anything — as if he had completely lost the ability to speak.

Deeper in the attic, near the far wall, almost swallowed by darkness, Paula was sitting. Curled into herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body, she trembled like an aspen leaf and looked smaller than usual. Around her, the darkness seemed to thicken — dense, alive, watching.

“What happened?!” Cheryl rushed to her, dropping to her knees beside her. “Paula, are you okay?”

“I… I went blind for a second…” Paula’s lips barely obeyed her. Her voice sounded hollow, as if her soul still hadn’t returned from whatever she had seen. “And then everything changed… Ash… ruins… darkness… And I heard a voice… It was calling me… by name…”

Her words sliced through the air like cold needles. The attic became quieter than silence itself. Even the others’ breathing sounded unbearably loud.

“God…” Cheryl wrapped her friend in a tight, crushing hug, stroking her back. “It’s okay. It’s okay… You were just scared. Just your imagination, sweetheart.”

“Imagination?!” Simon snapped, stepping forward sharply. “Have you all lost your minds? A scream like that because of hallucinations? Seriously?!”

Paula jerked her head up. Her tear-filled eyes flashed with fury.

“Shut up. You should’ve crawled in there yourself — see how much you’d enjoy it!”

“Enough!” Cheryl said harshly, stepping between them and spreading her arms wide. “We need to stick together, not start tearing each other apart in a cursed house.”

A moment — graveyard silence. And then…

From behind an old, dusty wardrobe came Amy’s muffled voice:

“Guys! There’s something here! Hurry!”

They rushed to the corner of the attic, where Amy was already on her knees, tossing aside old rags and thick clumps of cobwebs. Beneath the junk lay a stack of yellowed newspapers — brittle, fragile, their corners looking as if time itself had scorched them.

“Newspapers?” Alex frowned. “Seriously?”

“Not just newspapers. Look!” Amy pointed at the headline on the front page:

“Scientists from a neighboring town claim they have created a mechanism capable of bringing the dead back to life.”

“This is fake,” Mark muttered with disgust. “I don’t even want to read this crap.”

“Wait…” Jessie cut in, taking one of the papers and carefully turning the page. Her fingers were trembling. “There are names here. And photos… And this symbol — it’s the same one that was on the music box…”

Alex tensed instantly. He recognized the symbol at once. The same crossed-out eye carved into the wood. His heart seemed to drop into his chest.

“It’s all connected…” he breathed, more to himself than anyone else. “The house, the symbol, the music box, now these experiments… This isn’t a coincidence.”

“Alright, that’s it!” Simon waved his hand as if trying to slice through the layered horror. “I didn’t sign up for some cheap horror quest. We’re getting out of here — before the floor collapses or someone else loses their mind.”

A heavy silence settled over the attic. They exchanged looks — some anxious, some doubtful, some with dull fear in their eyes. As if each of them already knew: getting out wouldn’t be that simple.

“He’s right,” Cheryl said quietly. “We need to leave.”

No one argued.

They started heading downstairs, trying not to look around. Every step echoed, and it felt as though the house heard it. It creaked, sighed, as if displeased by its guests’ departure. Shadows on the walls stretched, crawled after them. Somewhere above, something creaked softly — maybe a beam… maybe not.

When the door slammed shut behind them with a loud, disgruntled groan, they all exhaled at once — some out loud, some silently. Only then did they realize how tense they’d been.

Paula pressed herself wordlessly against Cheryl. No one laughed, no one argued. Even Simon, who usually never missed a chance to make a sarcastic remark, walked in complete silence. His gaze was lowered, his hands clenched into fists.

Alex trailed at the very back. Step by step — each thought pressing down on him harder than the last. What gnawed at him wasn’t just the anxiety from what they’d seen. He felt something bigger growing inside him.

Guilt.

He had lied. To his sister. To his parents. He had let them down. And worst of all — he felt it wasn’t over. The house hadn’t stayed behind. It had followed them.

Fragments of Paula’s words flared in his mind like damaged film: “ash… darkness… it called me…” The melody from the music box played softly inside him, as if someone had jammed a scratched record straight into the center of his skull. And the images — the shadows crawling in corners, the darkness that lived in the attic — didn’t fade. They clung to him like old cobwebs.

When he reached home, he quietly circled the building and stopped beneath a familiar window. A thin night breeze lazily stirred the bushes. Alex opened the sash and carefully climbed inside. His feet touched the kitchen floor — cold, smooth. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Only the clock on the wall, like a pulse, counted out the night’s silence.

He walked deeper inside, into the room where Jessie was sleeping. Her small body was completely wrapped in the blanket, as if she were hiding from the world. He stepped closer, bent down, and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, kiddo…” he whispered. “I just wanted you to be safe…”

He lay down on his bed. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Something uneasy spread inside him, like a dark ink stain bleeding across paper. His gaze settled on his backpack. It stood where he’d left it — but somehow it felt closer, as if it were reaching for him.

Inside it lay the music box.

He hadn’t told anyone about it. Just slipped it away while everyone was distracted. Why? What for? He couldn’t explain it himself. He just… couldn’t leave it behind. Couldn’t not take it.

“There was something about that melody…” he thought. “Something that calls…”

He closed his eyes. The ballerina.

In his mind, she began to spin slowly, smoothly, against a dim light. Her skirt trembled like flame. Spinning… spinning…

And suddenly — she stopped. Abruptly. Without a sound. And — silence.

Alex cried out and jolted upright, breathing hard. His entire body was soaked with sweat, his heart pounding wildly. He dragged a hand over his face.

The eyes.

The ballerina’s eyes.

Black. Empty. Bottomless. And in those eyes…

…he saw himself.

⠀

⠀

CHAPTER FOUR. THE BLACK EVENING

Alex didn’t remember how he got home, what had happened, or what was happening now. The only thing he remembered was that not long ago he had been humming the melody he’d heard in the abandoned house — and now he was standing outside. Only his surroundings had changed. He didn’t recognize the city he had been living in for several months.

At first, it seemed to Alex like an ordinary dawn, but the sky shifted from dark crimson to a pitch-black, abyssal shade. Heavy clouds drifted slowly between the mountains, giving the already ominous peaks an even more terrifying look. A cold wind chased fallen leaves across the damp ground, sometimes tearing fresh ones from the wildly swaying trees. Lightning flashed again and again between the clouds. This didn’t resemble normal autumn weather at all.

In the middle of the road, walking unhurriedly, was a girl who paid no attention to the raging storm. Jessica walked forward, scanning her surroundings as if she were searching for someone.

She examined every corner of the street yet moved straight ahead with confidence, as if she had a destination — a specific place she needed to reach. The wind grew stronger, the clouds thickened. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Streetlights didn’t work, and not a single house had lights on. Only during flashes of lightning could the surroundings be seen for a brief moment.

A cold, fine rain began to fall from the sky. Drops hit her eyes, forcing Jess to shield them with her hands. She stopped in the middle of the road and spread her arms wide. Jessica was enjoying her freedom. Her clothes clung heavily to her body from the rain, while the cold wind circled her, as if blowing away all sorrow, pain, and suffering.

Footsteps sounded ahead. The wind died down. The rain stopped abruptly. Time itself seemed to freeze.

Jessica slowly opened her eyes and looked forward. She froze when she saw Alex walking alone. As if she weren’t seeing her brother — but her worst enemy.

The boy lifted his head and noticed his sister. He was terrified that she was alone, late in the evening, in the middle of the street. He called out to her, wanted to run toward her — but stopped. Alex didn’t understand what was happening. Why was she here? What was she doing alone in this weather?

He stared at her face. Lightning lit up the street — and now he was certain. It was her.

She didn’t look away. Instead, she forced a smile and suddenly burst into laughter — producing inhuman sounds. From her mouth flowed a thick, black liquid, dark as the sky itself. It dripped downward, falling onto the wet asphalt and evaporating before it even touched the ground.

The girl frowned, let out a hysterical scream — and suddenly ran into a nearby house.

Alex screamed at the top of his lungs, calling her name, but Jessica didn’t react, as if he didn’t exist. Only when the door slammed shut behind her did he rush after her.

Standing on the porch of a small one-story house, Alex looked around. At first, he saw only a garage and a neat flower bed. But when lightning flashed again and illuminated the building, he noticed Jessica in the window. She was calm. Unbothered. She smiled widely and… disappeared along with the light.

“What the hell is going on here…?” Alex whispered.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Gathering his courage, he reached for the handle. The door opened unexpectedly easily.

A long, dark corridor stretched before him. Somewhere deep inside, a dim light flickered. Doors to rooms lined the sides. Wind from outside crept under his clothes, chilling him to the bone. A draft rushed through the corridor, creating an eerie hum in the rooms.

Alex hesitantly stepped forward — and then a hoarse but calm voice came from around the corner:

“What are you doing here, who are you? Although… eh, never mind. Come in quickly, or you’ll flood the porch with rain — and catch a cold yourself. Such a storm, and you’re wandering the streets…” said an elderly woman standing in the shadows.

Alex went numb. He didn’t know what to say. The woman continued, her tone gentle:

“It’s all right, dear. Grandma will take care of you. I haven’t had guests in so long…”

Alex slowly came back to himself. Hesitating, he studied the old woman. She looked like a perfectly ordinary grandmother — kind, warm. Maybe Jessica knew her? He nodded and stepped inside. The old woman shut the door.

He scanned the room, searching for his sister.

“Where are you from, grandson? Do you live nearby? What were you doing outside so late, and in such weather? What brought you here?” she asked, but Alex remained silent.

Noticing this, she grew a bit embarrassed and turned away. She went to a dresser, lit a kerosene lamp, and headed into the next room. Alex followed.

“I live nearby. I was walking home after hanging out with friends. I saw my sister… she’s here, right? That’s why I came in,” he finally said, trying to sound confident.

“What sister?” the old woman frowned. “You must be mistaken, dear. It’s just me here. No one has visited me in ten years.”

“No! I saw her with my own eyes — she ran into your house!” Alex insisted. His voice trembled.

The old woman looked at him with sympathy and mild pity, like someone listening to a delusion.

“You’re probably overtired. Maybe you imagined it. But if you want, we can walk through the house. You’ll see for yourself.”

Alex agreed without hesitation.

The old woman nodded approvingly, her face spreading into a wide, almost maternal smile. She turned and slowly walked down the corridor. Alex followed.

The house turned out to be surprisingly modern. Clean, neat — yet dark and oppressive. Shadows clung to the corners as if alive. Alex thought he saw shapes moving along the ceiling in the faint glow of the lamp — something flickering in the half-light, something inhuman.

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