She Vanished in the Forest—Then Texted Me From Beyond

Most brothers and sisters were not nearly as close as Emma and I. Being only a year apart, we disclosed all of our secrets, musical tastes, and even the same tattoo we got during a dare. Her infectious, booming chuckle brought pleasure to every room she entered. The quiet following her vanishing during a hike last autumn therefore seemed unbearable.

What transpired would really test my faith in the weeks following her disappearance. After her supposed death in the wilderness, unusual SMS texts started to come in. Her phone kept generating these. While some of them were cryptic, others sounded urgent. Everyone appeared phony.

A Routine Adventure Gone Wrong

Emma had arranged her solitary journey over several weeks. She said she needed a vacation from the crowded city and that the peaceful trails of Ridgewood Forest suited her want for peace. She was acquainted with the experience as she had seen it before. We even double-checked her tools together the previous evening.

Expecting to arrive at the summit about noon, she assured me she would text when she arrived. But I never got that communication.

As the sun descended, I resolved to contact the park rangers. By the following morning, a thorough search had started. Every person looked over the woodland using dogs, drones, and volunteers, but nothing was discovered. She left no traces—no footsteps, clothes, or any other evidence—only the strange sensation that the trees had devoured her completely.

The First Message

I was in Emma's flat sifting through her possessions just three days later when my phone unexpectedly began vibrating. My pulse sped up.

Help me.

From Emma's phone number, the message was sent at 2:13 a. m. I was really taken aback. I immediately thought of hope: maybe she had left. She could have been harmed, but she was still living. I texted immediately asking for her whereabouts. There was no response. I dialed but was sent straight to voicemail.

An hour later, I got another email.

He's looking. I can't run.

On hearing those words, I was paralyzed with terror. Was she being held against her will, and who was visiting her? Or did I fall victim to some merciless jest?

Into the Unknown

I contacted the police with the texts. At first, they suspected someone had found her phone and was using it to torment me. But when they checked the location embedded in one of the messages, the GPS pinged deep within Ridgewood Forest—nearly the same area where the search had been concentrated days earlier.

I begged the rangers to reopen the search. A second team was dispatched. I waited for hours, pacing, my phone in my hand, praying for another message.

That evening, I received another.

"Don’t stop. I’m still here."

The message came with a photo. It was dark and grainy, but I could just make out her face—pale, eyes wide with fear. And behind her, barely visible in the shadows… something. Someone. A figure too tall, too distorted to be natural.

The Messages Keep Coming

In the days that followed, the messages became increasingly bizarre. She wrote of feeling disoriented in a setting that no longer resembled the woodland. “It feels as if I’ve stepped through a door,” she noted. “Something is off here. The trees speak at night.”

I reported everything to the authorities. After a local news program featured the eerie messages, paranormal investigators contacted me. Some speculated she might have entered another realm—a space between existence and oblivion.

Others shared this belief. I started having dreams about her—intense visions of her calling my name, fleeing barefoot through endless forests, her eyes wide with terror.

The Discovery

Teams searching for Emma found a cave on the tenth day, tucked under a ridge and covered by bushes that could have been overlooked if not for the most current GPS data from one of her most recent SMS.

In the cave they found a notebook, her backpack, and a few bloodstained torn shreds of her hoodie. Still, she wasn't there.

Her phone was there even if it was silent and cracked. Shockingly, it had sent over a dozen communications even as it was still in the cave.

None of this made sense. Logically speaking, the phone ought not to have operated. It was out of range and its battery had run flat.

Still, communications came about. Stored in my own mobile device's memory, they were recorded and timestamped.

A Voice From Beyond?

I tried to move on. The police eventually closed the case, listing her as presumed dead. But for me, the final chapter had not yet been written. I continued receiving messages long after the discovery.

Short, broken messages.

"It’s cold here."

"He won’t let me leave."

"Tell mom I’m sorry."

They stopped after thirty days. The last one simply read:

"Goodbye."

What I Believe Now

I have never considered myself a believer in ghosts. I used to dismiss psychics as scams and mock stories of haunted dwellings. But my point of view changed as a result of Emma's experience.

Perhaps the forest comprises more than just plants and animals. Maybe it's a doorway. She might have lost herself in an invisible world.

Hoping for another message from Emma, I still get startled by my phone's vibrations at times. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I believe I hear her voice. I speak to her aloud now and then in the event she can hear me.

Why This Story Matters

The story of Emma is more than a tragedy—it’s a chilling example of how the supernatural can bleed into the real world. It reminds us that not everything is explainable. Some mysteries stay open, no matter how much we want to close them.

Emma may never return, but she reached out from somewhere. I believe that. And if she did it once, maybe—just maybe—there’s a way to hear her again.