The Forgotten Ones

Blackwood town had never lacked whispers of something sinister lurking behind the large pine trees. There were stories generations told about ghostly howls at dusk, dark forms dancing against the breeze, and an old, long-abandoned orphanage standing like a watching sentinel on the outskirts of town. Few were willing to discuss it, and even fewer were brave enough to approach.

But Adam, restless and drawn to the thrill of the unknown, saw it as a challenge.

"Ghost stories," he complained as he and his two friends, Mark and Jessica, arrived at the rusty gates of Blackwood Home for Children. The sign, slightly eaten away by the rust, creaked gently in the crisp autumn air.

You sure about this?" Jessica asked, pulling her jacket in closer to her. Her breath created thin clouds in the air. "They say once you go inside, you never leave the same."

Mark snorted. "People say a lot of things.".

The three pushed through the creaking gates, onto the cracked stone path that wound to the orphanage. The dark and vacant windows seemed to watch them as they climbed the tilting steps.

Taking a deep breath, Adam pushed the creaky wooden door open. The smell hit them first—mildew, rotting wood, and something else. Something… wet, metallic. The air was thick with dust, and there was only the faint groan of the door creaking shut behind them.

Jessica winced. "We should leave," she whispered.

"Not yet," Adam said, producing his flashlight. "Let's at least take a look around.".

They stepped into the foyer, where there was a big staircase in the center of the room, its banister covered in cobwebs. There was the soft, childlike echo of laughter somewhere upstairs.

Jessica stopped. "Did you hear that?"

Mark shone his flashlight up the stairs. "Wind, I reckon."

But then the laughter echoed again—this time nearer. It was accompanied by the sound of something running. Something too large to be a mouse.

Adam took a few careful steps forward. "Hello?"

Silence.

A door down the hall creaked open, revealing a long corridor lined with rooms. The wallpaper peeled away like dead skin, revealing wooden panels beneath, scratched and gouged as if someone—or something—had clawed at them in desperation.

Jessica grabbed Adam’s arm. “I really don’t like this.”

“Five more minutes,” he said. “Then we’ll go.”

As they went deeper in, the air cooled. Their breaths fogged, and the air was sweet with a nauseating smell—flowers left to sit too long in water.

They reached an open door. Inside, a row of small beds stood, their frames creaky, their mattresses torn. On the walls, photographs of smiling children hung, worn. But underneath them, scrawled deep into the wood, were words:

THEY WON'T LET US LEAVE.

A loud thud echoed from upstairs.

Jessica let out a sharp breath. “That’s it. I’m out of here.”

Before Adam could respond, the lights of their flashlights flickered and went out.

The darkness swallowed them.

“Adam?” Jessica’s voice trembled.

“I’m right here,” he whispered.

Mark cursed. “We need to get out of this place—”

A small giggle echoed through the hall.

Then, another voice, whispering: “Stay and play.”

Jessica screamed as something brushed against her ankle—a cold, tiny hand.

"Run!" Adam shouted.

They whirled, racing for the door, but the hallway lay before them—longer than it had been. The door they had entered was now nothing more than a wall.

"We didn't travel this far," Mark gasped. "Where's the door?

The laughter grew—dozens of voices, mounting into an unholy chorus. Shadows crept across the walls, their shapes hardly human. Little figures emerged from the darkness—children, their eyes vacant voids, their skin stretched taut over their bones.

One stepped forward, a small girl in a frayed nightgown, her face lashed with deep scratches.

"You came to play," she breathed. "So stay."

Jessica backed away, her head shaking. "No, no, no—"

The girl smiled, displaying crooked, shattered teeth. "We did."

Something cold gripped Adam's wrist. He struggled free, but the grip tightened. The darkness gathered in around him, its skeletal fingers wrapping around his arms, his legs. His scream blended with the others—dozens of muffled voices.

Mark and Jessica spun and ran blindly, their gasps ragged.

The walls shifted, the floor groaned under them as if something gigantic stirred beneath the wood. A door was ahead of them—a different one from the one they entered, but that was irrelevant. They broke through it, tumbling onto wet grass.

The orphanage groaned behind them, its windows crowded with goggling eyes. A last, piercing shriek rent the air before the door slammed shut.

They sprawled there, gasping, their hearts racing.

But Adam nowhere to be found.

Jessica cried. Mark nodded his head, speechless.

The town never found Adam.

But sometimes on cold autumn nights, when the wind howled through Blackwood, people were certain they heard a voice howling from deep inside the orphanage—sobbing to be let out.

And beneath that, the echo of children's laughter.The Forgotten Ones: Part Two

Jessica never slept right after that evening. She could see Adam's terrified face, his body dragged into the darkness by those. creatures, whenever she shut her eyes. She and Mark had vowed to never speak of it again, but silence couldn't erase memories.

Three months passed. The town forgot, and Adam's vanishing was treated like any other Blackwood cold case. Some speculated he'd run away from town. Others believed he'd gotten lost in the woods. No one dared to hazard a guess as to what really happened—the orphanage had taken him.

Jessica knew.

And she couldn't live with it.

The Return

It was nearly midnight when she once again stood before the old, rusty gates of Blackwood Home for Children. There was a thickness in the air from the stench of decaying leaves, and the orphanage loomed before them, its windows empty, dark eyes.

Mark was with her, but he did not seem to want to be.

"This is insane," he muttered. "Why are we here again?"

We left Adam," Jessica said, her voice shaking. "We have to try."

Mark swallowed violently. "We barely made it the first time."

Jessica clutched the flashlight in her hand. "Then we don't leave without him."

They pushed against the doors. The air inside was the same—cold, filled with dust and something fetid. But something was different. The orphanage was no longer empty.

Small prints littered the dusty floor. Dolls with faces shattered and deformed sat in neat rows on a rotting bench. And then—whispering voices.

"Jessica… Mark…"

Jessica's breathing stalled. "Adam?"

No reply. Just the rustling of fabric.

Mark grabbed her wrist. "We need to go fast."

They climbed to the second floor, where the beds still were, their sheets faded with age. The words on the wall still were there, but something was altered. New words had been written below them:

IT HURTS. HELP ME.

Jessica covered her mouth with her hand.

Then—footsteps.

They swung sharply into the hall, where a shape stood in the dim light.

Adam.

He was barefoot, his clothes tattered, his face gaunt. But something was off. His eyes… they weren't his. They were too dark, too vacant.

"Jessica," he rasped. "Mark."

Jessica rushed towards him, but Mark caught her by the arm and held her back. "Wait."

Adam leaned his head to one side. His lips curled into a cold smile.

"You returned for me."

Jessica's eyes overflowed with tears. "Of course we did. We—we're taking you out of here."

Adam advanced. "I can't go."

A chill ran through Jessica's body. "What do you mean?"

"I belong to them now."

And then the whispers became louder. Behind Adam, dozens of small figures emerged, their faces twisted, their mouths too wide.

Mark tugged at Jessica's arm. "Run."

But she was stuck. Adam still stood there, staring at her with his empty eyes.

"Stay," he whispered. "Stay and play."

Then his face changed. His skin split, as though something beneath was moving, twisting.

Jessica screamed.

Mark dragged her, pulling her down the hallway as the children's laughter reached a deafening crescendo. The orphanage groaned around them, the walls thudding as though it breathed.

The front door disappeared.

Mark swore, turning round and round. Then he picked up a chair and hurled it at a window. The glass shattered.

Jessica didn't think. She ran.

They skidded onto the grass, rolling to a stop. The laughter chased after them, but the moment they hit the ground, the world was silent.

The orphanage stood still and dark, as if nothing had ever happened.

Jessica turned, her heart racing. "Adam…"

Mark shook his head. "He's gone."

Jessica swallowed a sob. She knew the truth. Adam wasn't stuck.

He was one of them now.

And the orphanage would never let him go.