The mall was still open, technically, but nobody was really there.
Most of the stores had their gates halfway down, the metal slats rattling softly whenever someone brushed past them. The food court smelled like fryer oil and sugar, that weird late-night mix that only exists when everything's about to close. The overhead lights were too bright for how quiet it was, like the building hadn't realized the day was over yet.
We weren't there to buy anything.
We were just there because it was cold outside and there was nowhere else to go.
Hashim was leaning back against a railing on the second floor, arms stretched out like he owned the place, phone in his hand. "I'm telling you," he said, grinning, "if I had my license right now, we'd be gone. Straight downtown. No hesitation."
"You don't even have a car," Samiya shot back.
"Details."
Neems laughed, loud enough that it echoed down the empty corridor. "Let him dream."
Sia stood a little apart from us, scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing up like she was counting heads. She always did that. Not in an obvious way—just little checks, making sure we were all still there. Still together.
It was January. Just after New Year's. The kind of night where the cold creeps into your bones even if you're wearing layers. Nashville felt quieter than usual, like the city itself was still half-asleep from the holidays.
I remember thinking that the night felt unfinished.
Like something was supposed to happen and hadn't yet.
"Okay," Neems said suddenly, clapping her hands once. "This is dead. We should do something."
Hashim raised an eyebrow. "Define 'something.'"
She grinned. That should've been the warning. "There's a trail like ten minutes from here."
"No," Samiya said immediately.
"What trail?" I asked, even though part of me already knew.
"The one by the woods," Neems said. "You know, the one with the cliff overlook?"
"Absolutely not," Samiya said again, louder this time. "It's midnight."
"It's not midnight yet."
"That makes it worse."
Sia finally looked up from her phone. "Why would we do that?"
Neems shrugged, rocking back on her heels. "Because it's there. And because we're bored."
Hashim laughed. "I mean… she's not wrong."
Samiya turned on him. "You are not helping."
"I'm just saying," he said, holding up his hands, "we're not gonna die walking on a trail for five minutes."
I wish I could lie. I wish I could say I argued harder.
I didn't.
That's the part people don't like hearing later. That nobody was forced. Nobody was dragged. We went because it sounded like something to do. Because the night felt empty. Because nothing bad had happened yet.
"Five minutes," Neems said. "We walk, we look, we leave. I promise."
Sia studied her for a second. Then she sighed. "Fine. But if it gets weird, we're turning around."
"That's fair," I said.
Samiya crossed her arms but didn't say no again. Which, in hindsight, might've mattered more than anything else.
The trailhead was darker than I expected.
The parking lot lights barely reached past the first few trees, and once we stepped onto the dirt path, the world narrowed fast. Our breath fogged in front of us. Leaves crunched under our shoes, too loud in the quiet.
"See?" Neems said. "It's chill."
It wasn't.
I don't mean that in a dramatic way. There was nothing jumping out at us, nothing obviously wrong. It just felt… heavy. Like the air had weight.
We hadn't gone far when it happened.
The scream.
At first, it didn't even sound real. Just a sound folding in on itself, echoing weirdly through the trees. High. Sharp. Female.
We all stopped.
"Did you hear that?" Samiya whispered.
Another scream followed, louder this time, stretching longer, like whoever—or whatever—was making it didn't need to breathe.
Hashim's smile vanished. "Okay. Nope. That's not funny."
"That sounded like a person," I said.
Sia was already pulling out her phone. "We need to call someone."
The scream echoed again, closer. Or maybe clearer. It was hard to tell.
Neems stepped toward the edge of the trail. "It came from down there."
That's when we saw the light.
Below the cliff, faint but unmistakable, was a white glow. Not flickering. Not moving. Just… there. Too steady to be a flashlight.
"What is that?" Hashim asked.
"Maybe someone's mining?" Samiya said weakly.
"At midnight?" Sia said. "In a park?"
Another scream cut through the woods.
"That's not someone messing around," I said. "We can't just stand here."
"Hashim," Sia said quickly, "call 911. Tell them exactly where we are."
He nodded, already dialing.
"I'm going to the parking lot," Sia said, grabbing Neems' sleeve. "Maybe there's someone around."
Neems hesitated. "What about—"
"We'll be back," Sia said. "Don't move."
They took off toward the lights.
Hashim stayed on the trail, phone pressed to his ear, pacing. His voice dropped into that serious tone I'd only heard a few times.
I looked over the edge of the cliff.
The light pulsed once.
"I'm going down," I said.
Samiya's head snapped toward me. "What? No."
"There could be someone hurt," I said. "We can't just wait."
She stared at me for a second, then muttered, "I hate you," and followed.
The climb down wasn't clean. Loose dirt. Roots sticking out at weird angles. My heart hammered in my chest—not from fear, not yet, but from adrenaline.
The cave entrance was wider than it looked from above. Smooth stone, like it had been worn down over a long time. The light came from deeper inside, illuminating the walls in a dull white sheen.
It smelled old.
Inside, the temperature dropped immediately.
The cave wasn't empty.
There were things scattered along the walls—objects that didn't belong together. Rusted metal. Pieces of cloth. A cracked phone screen half-buried in dirt. Symbols scratched into the stone, overlapping, layered, like they'd been added over centuries.
"What the hell is this?" Samiya whispered.
I stepped forward—and froze.
"Jamal."
The voice came from behind me.
My voice.
I turned.
There was nothing there.
Samiya's began to walk back a little. "Did you hear that?"
Before I could answer, it spoke again.
Closer this time.
Perfect.
The cave lights flickered.
Something moved in the dark behind us. Not fast. Not slow. Just enough to make the shadows stretch wrong.
"Run," I said.
We didn't argue.
We ran.
The sound followed us—not footsteps, not breathing. Just pressure. Like being watched by something that didn't need eyes.
We burst out of the cave, scrambling up the cliff, lungs burning. I didn't look back. I didn't need to.
When we reached the trail, Hashim was shouting into his phone. "They're back—yeah, they're here—no, there was something—"
The woods behind us shifted.
Tall.
Too tall.
Something stood just beyond the trees, partially hidden, unfinished, like it hadn't decided what shape it wanted yet.
It didn't chase us.
It didn't have to.
When the police arrived, the trail was empty.
No light.
No cave.
No evidence of anything at all.
They told us it was stress. A prank. An animal. But they still wanted a written statement. Afterall, Prank calling the police was a federal crime.
The police station smelled like burnt coffee and disinfectant—like every other place where people came to explain things that didn't make sense.
We sat in a line of plastic chairs against the wall, knees bouncing, phones dead in our hands. Samiya kept tapping her foot so hard I thought the floor might crack. Hashim was uncharacteristically quiet. Neems stared straight ahead like if she blinked, something would happen.
Everyone had given their statements to the police, except for me.
A door opened.
"Jamal Anderson?"
I stood. The man waiting for me wasn't what I expected. No scowl. No impatience. Mid-50s, tall, broad shoulders softened by time. His uniform was neat but worn, like he'd been in it longer than he'd been out of it.
"I'm Chief Grant," he said. "Come on back."
His office wasn't intimidating. No trophies. No weapons on the wall. Just framed photos—family, maybe—and a corkboard filled with old case notes.
He gestured for me to sit.
"You want water?"
I shook my head.
He didn't rush. Didn't fill the silence. Just watched me the way people do when they're deciding how to listen, not whether to.
"You wanna tell me again," he said calmly, "what you think you heard?"
I swallowed.
"It sounded like a girl screaming."
"Sounded," he repeated, nodding. "Not saw."
"No, sir."
He leaned back slightly. "You ever hear something in the woods before?"
"Animals, yeah."
"And this wasn't that."
"No."
He wrote something down. Not fast. Not slow. Careful.
"You understand," he said, "we searched that trail. There's no cliff accessible from the path. No cave. No mine. Nothing unstable enough to fall into."
"I know."
He looked up. Studied my face.
"You don't look like you're lying."
That hit harder than if he'd accused me.
"But," he continued, "you do look like someone who believes what he's saying."
I nodded.
He didn't smile. Didn't smirk.
"Those aren't the same thing," he said. "But they're both important."
⸻
It was past midnight when he finally let us go.
Parents were called. Statements were signed. Warnings were issued. The official version—teenagers, late night, echoing woods—was already being written.
As we stood to leave, Chief Grant stopped us at the door.
"Hey," he said.
We turned.
"If anything else happens," he added, voice low, "anything strange—no matter how small—you come back here. You don't post it. You don't try to prove it. You don't go looking for it."
Hashim blinked. "Looking for what?"
Grant didn't answer right away.
"Things don't always announce themselves," he said finally. "Sometimes they just… show up."
Neems frowned. "You saying you believe us?"
He met her eyes.
"I'm saying I've been doing this job for thirty-two years," he said. "And the cases that bother me the most are the ones that leave nothing behind."
He opened the door.
"Go home," he said. "Get some sleep."
We stepped into the cold night.
Behind us, the station door didn't slam.
It stayed open a second longer than it needed to.
They told us to go home.
And we did.
But the mistake had already been made.
We had listened.
⸻
NEXT WEEK:
"Chapter 2 — What Followed Us Home."