The Caves in Younger's Holler

Title: The Caves in Younger's Holler (Reimagined Version)

I told them we shouldn’t have come. I had that pit-in-your-stomach feeling before we even left the house, but no one ever listens to me. I’m always the quiet one in the group — the one people talk over, the afterthought. Normally, I don’t mind taking the backseat, watching friendships unfold from a distance. But not tonight. Tonight was different. I really wish they had listened.

For over a week, I’d been tormented by night terrors. I’d wake up, drenched in sweat, my body frozen, my eyes staring into the darkness. The only clear thing I could ever remember was a pair of glowing, malevolent eyes — hovering, waiting — before everything faded to black. It always took until dawn for me to move again.

Maybe that’s why I was so uneasy about the trip to Younger's Holler — that or the fact we were heading into the woods at midnight, on the cusp of the Fourth of July. Everyone claimed the legends weren’t true, just small-town ghost stories. But even if there were no vengeful spirits, it was still a bad idea.

Unstable ground. Wolves. Low-hanging branches. Sinkholes. Just last year, Penny Fletcher came out of these woods screaming, claiming the earth had swallowed her friends. They never found the boys, but they did find a newly-formed sinkhole, one deep enough to bury more than just secrets.

Still, there we were — a ragtag group of teenagers making our way into the forest, flashlights bobbing like fireflies. Journey Mackey led the way, always first to chase a thrill. Serena, ever the storyteller, whispered legends as we walked, her voice low and reverent.

I stuck close to Stan Penn and the cooler, grateful to be away from Lee Franks, who’d already turned the air behind us toxic. Up ahead, Beth and Seth McKormick giggled like this was just another adventure. But I could feel something watching us. I swear I heard soft footsteps in sync with our own.

Serena’s tales echoed louder in my mind than in my ears. She spoke of Jessup Younger — a hermit said to be malformed from generations of inbreeding, living deep within the woods. Some claimed he sold strange trinkets. Others said he committed dark, unspeakable acts. The versions varied, but all ended the same: with a mob. With dogs. With Jessup chased into the woods, beaten and torn apart by men and beasts alike.

As her voice trailed off, we reached the clearing.

A hollow sat ahead. Across from it, a cave glowed faintly — not with fire, but something worse. Sickly. Unnatural. Something ancient. We stepped toward it as if pulled by invisible strings. Our bodies moved of their own accord, our voices silent. The cave swallowed us whole.

Inside, a vast cavern yawned open. The stench hit first — rot, damp earth, and something sulfurous. Then came the horror: skeletons, half-decayed bodies, mummified faces frozen in eternal screams. They hung from stalactites like grotesque ornaments of the past.

A light burst suddenly, blinding and fluorescent, before dimming to the same sick hue. As my eyes adjusted, I understood the source of my night terrors. Visions flashed before me, vivid and raw — not dreams, but memories.

I was Jessup. I stood roadside on Independence Day, selling hand-carved wooden trinkets. Travelers came. Some kind. Some cruel. The Brockman boys taunted me, their bottle rockets singeing my hair. Still, I smiled and sold my crafts.

Ms. Tina and her daughter Eva visited. She brought jelly and bread, and I gave Eva a fairy I’d carved, her cross-eyed wonder lighting my heart. When they left, I returned home. Later, the dogs came. And the lights. And the shouts. They didn’t just kill me. They erased me.

Back in the present, I blinked. My skin shimmered with a strange light. I turned, watching my friends flail in the dark. They couldn’t see me, but I saw them — clearly.

Serena called out, her voice trembling, “Jess? Beth? Seth? Where are you?”

I smiled, the truth heavy in my chest. I had never escaped those woods. Not really. But now, I was awake. And I remembered.

In an ancient ritual older than the trees around us, I took my first step forward.

I’m here, Serena,” I said, voice low and sure. “Let me come to you.

And the cave listened.