The Town of Bogahill

The road to Bogahill stretched like a fading scar across the countryside long, narrow, and unnervingly quiet. The air was heavy with the smell of damp soil and pine, and the afternoon sun hung low, turning the world amber. Gerald kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, a faint smile curving his lips. Home, he thought. After all these years, he was finally going back. Caroline sat in the passenger seat, one hand resting on her rounded belly, the other gripping the door handle. Her gaze never left the trees.

“Gerald, are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked softly. “I mean, after all the stories… the rituals, the missing people…”He chuckled under his breath. “Caroline, love, those are just old wives’ tales. You know how small towns are people love their ghost stories.”

“But your mother used to say”

“My mother was superstitious,” he interrupted gently. “I grew up here. Nothing ever happened to me.”

The backseat was alive with laughter. Rita, their twelve-year-old, was singing off-key, while Patrick, barely eight, beat his palms on his thighs like a drum. The sound filled the car, light and joyful a warmth Caroline wanted to hold onto. Outside, the trees thickened, crowding the road. Shadows deepened. Every now and then, a shape too tall, too still seemed to stand between the trunks, watching them pass. Gerald turned the radio knob, but the signal hissed into static.

“Strange,” he muttered. “There used to be a station here.”

Caroline’s hand tightened on her belly. “Maybe we should go back.”

“We’re nearly there,” he said. “You’ll see—it’s beautiful. Peaceful. You need rest, and the kids will love it.”

Her lips pressed together. Peaceful. That was what he called it. But every mile closer felt like a step into something ancient and awake.After another bend, a crooked wooden sign appeared on the roadside. The paint was peeling, the letters warped but still legible:

WELCOME TO BOGAHILL Blood Sustains Life

Caroline blinked. “Gerald… that slogan ”

“It’s been there since I was a kid,” he said quickly. “An old motto about hard work, nothing else.” But his voice had gone quiet.The forest seemed to lean closer as they passed beneath the sign, the sunlight dimming as if swallowed.Then came the sound. A faint rustle at first like wind in dry leaves then louder, sharper, until it became a roar. The sky darkened. Caroline looked up and screamed. Hundreds no, thousands of crows exploded from the treetops, blackening the air. They dived toward the jeep, wings beating furiously, their screeches shrill and human-like. The windshield smeared with feathers and blood as the birds hurled themselves at the glass. Patrick cried out, covering his ears. Rita clutched her mother’s arm, trembling.

“Gerald! Stop the car!” Caroline shouted.

“I can’t! They’ll smash through if I stop!” he yelled back, eyes wide but steady.

The car shook under the weight of wings and bodies. Caroline could feel her unborn child twist sharply inside her. Rita began sobbing, whispering, “Make them stop, make them stop.” And then, just as suddenly, the noise ceased. The crows lifted away, disappearing into the forest as if they’d never been there.The silence that followed was worse. Gerald slowed the car, breathing hard. “See? They’re gone. Probably nesting season.”

“Nesting?” Caroline turned to him, her face pale. “They were attacking us!”

“Caroline…” He touched her arm, his voice soft again. “It’s fine now. The kids are scared—let’s not make it worse.”

She wanted to argue, to scream that nothing about this was fine. But when she looked back, Rita’s face stopped her. The girl was staring out the window, eyes wide, lips trembling.“What is it, sweetheart?” Caroline asked.Rita’s finger lifted slowly, pointing toward the trees.At first, Caroline saw nothing but the shadows between the trunks. Then movement something white. A girl, maybe ten years old, stood there in a long robe, her skin as pale as bone, her hair matted with something dark and wet. The robe was soaked through with blood.Caroline’s breath caught. The girl raised her hand as if to wave. Behind her, from the black of the woods, dozens of pale arms reached out—arms that ended at torn shoulders, grasping at the air, desperate and trembling.

“Mommy,” Rita whispered. “They’re calling me.”

“Don’t look, baby,” Caroline said, voice breaking.

Rita screamed then a sound that didn’t sound human. Her body convulsed, limbs jerking violently. Patrick began crying, confused and terrified.

“Gerald! She’s seizing!”

Gerald slammed the brakes. “Hold her still!”

But Rita’s eyes had rolled back, her mouth frothing. Caroline held her daughter’s trembling body, tears streaming down her face. “Do something, Gerald!”

“There’s a healer in town,” he said, voice firm, almost too calm. “We’re close.”

He started the car again. The forest ended abruptly, giving way to the town rows of sagging wooden houses, crooked fences, and hanging scarecrows, their faces sewn from leather and straw. Each one wore a human grin stitched too wide.The townspeople stood on their porches, motionless, watching the jeep pass. Their eyes were hollow, their clothes ragged.

Caroline clutched Rita tighter. “Why are they staring?”Gerald didn’t answer. He turned down a narrow dirt road and stopped before a cabin. The sign above the door read Mara Healer of Flesh and Spirit.The door creaked open before they could knock. An old woman with milky eyes stood in the doorway. She smiled, showing blackened teeth.

“Welcome home, Gerald,” she said. “The town has been waiting.”Caroline froze. “You… know him?”The old woman’s gaze drifted to Caroline’s belly. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “We all do.”

And then, from somewhere deep within the cabin, came the faint sound of chanting low, rhythmic, and hungry. Gerald looked away.

“Let’s go inside,” he said quietly. “She can help Rita.”

Caroline hesitated, her heart pounding. Something inside her screamed run. But Rita’s body lay limp in her arms, breath shallow and fading. She stepped through the door. The smell of herbs and blood filled her nose. And as the door closed behind them, the last of the sunlight disappeared, leaving Bogahill in darkness.

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