The wind rustled through the thick grove of scarlet oaks as Travis, Eve, and their 8-year-old son Robin strolled through the woods, collecting mushrooms for dinner. The family had relocated to Maine from Texas a few months ago, hoping to escape the oppressive heat of the south. They’d quickly fallen in love with the quiet beauty of their new home, nestled in the rolling hills of the Pine Tree State.
Travis, 34, had health issues, and his doctors recommended a cooler climate to help him manage his condition. When his company offered him a transfer and a promotion, moving to Maine seemed like the perfect opportunity. The last few months had been peaceful, and the air felt crisp and refreshing on this particular autumn afternoon.
It was supposed to be just another normal day in the woods—until Travis wandered off the familiar trail, into a part of the forest they had never explored before. He was curious about what lay beyond their usual path, a sense of adventure tugging at him.
As they walked, Travis noticed that Brandy, their Doberman, had wandered off and was nowhere to be seen. “He’s probably just stepped away to relieve himself,” Travis muttered, but his worry grew when he heard the dog’s frantic barking echoing from deeper in the woods. Concerned, Travis followed the sound, and soon he spotted Brandy, crouching low, sniffing something with obvious fear. The dog charged again, then retreated, whining.
“What is it, boy? Come on, calm down,” Travis said, pushing through the dense undergrowth. The barking grew louder, leading him toward a startling sight: an old cemetery, hidden deep in the woods. Over a hundred tombstones were scattered about—some moss-covered and crumbling, others standing tall and worn by time. But one in particular stood out, almost as if it was waiting for him.
“Whoa, what is this place? Some kind of 1800s cemetery?” Travis muttered, his hand covering his mouth in shock. Eve and Robin caught up to him.
“Honey, I think we should leave. This place… I don’t know, it gives me the creeps. Look at those antlers and bones… And those weird voodoo dolls!” Eve said, shivering, hunching against the brisk autumn breeze.
But their son Robin, always curious, was already exploring further. “Daddy, Mommy, come look! I found something!” Robin’s voice cracked with excitement, but there was an edge of fear in it too.
Travis and Eve rushed over, hearts pounding, and froze when they saw what Robin was pointing at: a weathered gravestone with a picture of a young boy—Travis’s childhood photo. Robin’s tiny finger pointed at it, wide-eyed. “It’s… it’s Dad’s photo!” he exclaimed.
Travis stepped forward, his heart racing. His trembling hands reached out, brushing away the debris. He stared in disbelief at the small, cracked ceramic photo—the date of birth etched below it: January 29, 1984. His own birthday.
“This… this can’t be real,” Travis stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “What is my picture doing on this grave? I don’t even remember wearing a yellow shirt like that as a kid.”
Eve grabbed his arm, panic rising in her voice. “Travis, we need to leave. Now. I don’t like this. Something’s not right here. Look at the bones, the strange dolls… This whole place feels haunted, and we’re not supposed to be here.”
Travis quickly pulled his family away and led them back to their jeep. But the mystery of the headstone gnawed at him. “I… I can’t focus right now. My mind is racing,” he admitted, his face pale as he climbed into the passenger seat.
Eve sighed, turning the key in the ignition. “It’s just a coincidence, Travis. It’s probably nothing. Maybe it’s just some stranger who looks like you. It’s probably not as big a deal as you’re making it.”
But Travis couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling. He couldn’t forget the picture—the boy in the photo who looked eerily like him, yet he had never been to Maine before. The date of birth on the headstone matched his own, and that couldn’t just be a coincidence. Could it?
When they arrived home, Travis stared at his phone, zooming in on the photo he’d taken. “I don’t know, Eve. Something’s wrong. I keep thinking about the day I was found, abandoned on the steps of a church when I was three. What if there’s a connection?”
Eve handed him a cup of tea, her voice soft but firm. “Travis, stop. You’re overthinking it. You’ve been through a lot, and this is probably just a coincidence. I get it, but we need to focus on dinner, not this.”
But Travis couldn’t let it go. His mind was trapped in a web of questions. How did this headstone appear in the woods, and why did it have his photo? Why was it so deeply connected to a place he didn’t even remember visiting?
The next day, Travis couldn’t stop thinking about the graveyard. He decided to go into town and ask around. Most people were too scared to speak about it, but one person seemed to know something—Lois Woods, an 89-year-old widow who was the oldest resident in the area.
When Travis and Eve knocked on her door, she looked at them with wide, fearful eyes. “You shouldn’t have gone there,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s dangerous… and not safe for children. You’ve seen it?”
Travis showed her the picture of the headstone on his phone. “Do you know anything about this? Why is my photo there? Who put it there?”
Lois paled. “Those tombstones… they’re cursed, according to the old folklore. The children who visit them—well, they never come back the same.” She hesitated before continuing, her voice low. “I heard stories from my grandmother about a cult that lived in the woods long ago. They performed rituals to summon their god, and many believed they sacrificed children in secret.”
Eve gasped. “Children? Oh my God, what kind of rituals?”
Lois shuddered. “They were a secret society, worshipping some dark god. In the late 1800s, they began kidnapping children—twins, mostly—and performing horrible sacrifices. The police broke it up in the late 80s, but by then, many children had already disappeared.”
“Where did they go?” Travis asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Some say they just vanished,” Lois replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But there’s someone who might know more—Teddy Sutton. He’s the one to ask. His father was the cop who took down the cult.”
Eve grabbed Travis’s arm. “I don’t want to meet anyone else. This is too much. Let’s just go home.”
“No,” Travis said firmly. “I need to know what’s going on. I need to find out about this photo and why it’s on that grave. I can’t just ignore it.”
With Eve reluctantly by his side, they made their way to the house at the end of the lane. They knocked on the door, and a gruff, older man answered. “What do you want?” he barked.
“I’m Travis, and this is my wife, Eve,” Travis said, holding up his phone. “We need to talk to you about the cult in the woods. We found a headstone with my childhood picture on it.”
Teddy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, his face was frozen in shock. He took the phone from Travis’s hand and zoomed in on the photo. “This boy…” he whispered.
“That’s my picture,” Travis said, his voice shaking. “What does this have to do with me?”
Teddy’s hands trembled as he looked up. “Your mother… her name was Nedaara, wasn’t it?”
Travis’s heart stopped. “Nedaara? My mother?”
Teddy nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “She was part of the cult. And so was my brother, Shawn. He fell in love with your mother. But what happened after… it’s not something I ever wanted to remember.”
Teddy told them the story of his brother, Shawn, and how he had met Nedaara. Shawn had fallen for her, not knowing she was the cult leader’s daughter. They had kept their relationship secret, but when Shawn tried to confront the cult leader to marry Nedaara, things had gone terribly wrong.
“Shawn never came back,” Teddy whispered, tears in his eyes. “He went into the woods, and he didn’t return. The cult took him. And now… now, I think you’re connected to all of it.”
Travis felt his world unravel. “What does this mean? How am I connected?”
Teddy wiped his tears. “Because you are the twin brother of Shawn’s son… the boy in the picture.”