The Girl Who Vanished in the Woods

The girl who vanished in the woods

Some stories don’t end. They just disappear—like she did.

Every town has that story—the one parents whisper to scare kids into coming home before dark.

In ours, it was about Emily Carter.

She was seventeen. Straight-A student. Quiet, kind, always wore that faded green hoodie even in summer. She lived three streets over from me. We weren’t close friends, but I knew her well enough to say “hey” in the halls and share answers during Chemistry.

And then one Friday night, she vanished.

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They Say She Walked Into Black Hollow

The woods behind our town were dense. Creepy. Locals called them “Black Hollow,” because even at noon, barely any light broke through the trees.

No one really went there anymore. Not after the fire in 2003. Not after that other missing kid.

But that night, Emily did.

Witnesses say she was last seen walking along the old trail behind the gas station—alone, no phone, no backpack.

No one knows why.

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The Search Was Immediate. And Weird.

Police combed the woods for days. Helicopters. Dogs. Volunteers. Nothing.

No blood. No shoes. Not even a single thread of that green hoodie.

But then came the whispers.

Some said a hiker found her journal wedged between two rocks, pages damp but legible.

Others said they heard humming in the woods at night—soft, like a lullaby.

A few kids swore they saw someone standing just beyond the treeline, watching.

The cops shut it all down. “Rumors,” they said.

But it didn’t feel like a rumor.

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A Year Later, Things Got Darker

On the anniversary of her disappearance, someone left a note taped to the school bulletin board.

“She’s still out there. And she’s not alone.”

No one knew who put it there. Cameras weren’t working that night.

People laughed it off—called it a prank. But I saw something that made me believe it wasn’t.

A week before that note appeared, I was walking my dog past the woods. It was late. Quiet.

And I swear on everything—I saw a flash of green in the trees.

Not leaves. Not a bird.

A hoodie.

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I Went Back

I shouldn’t have. I know that now.

But I took my flashlight and stepped into the Hollow. Just for a minute. Just to prove to myself she wasn’t there.

Everything felt... wrong. The air was thick. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was watching me.

I heard something behind me. Not footsteps. Not animals.

Breathing.

When I turned around, there was no one.

But on the ground was a single torn page from a notebook.

Faded writing. Three words:

“Don’t trust her.”

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She Was Never Found

It’s been five years now.

The town’s moved on. Her family moved away. The woods were fenced off.

But sometimes, late at night, I hear humming outside my window.

And every time I walk past the trees,

I feel like someone in a green hoodie is still watching.

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Some girls run away. Some get taken.

And some… never really leave.

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