**The Secret in the Woods**

The woods behind our neighborhood had always been a place of adventure. It was where we built forts out of fallen branches, where we pretended to be explorers charting unknown lands, and where the ordinary world seemed far away. There was a certain magic to those woods, a sense of mystery that kept us coming back, even though we knew we weren’t supposed to go too deep.

That summer afternoon was like any other, with the sun casting dappled light through the thick canopy of leaves. The air buzzed with the sounds of cicadas, and the familiar earthy scent of the forest floor filled our lungs as we made our way through the undergrowth. There were four of us—Tommy, Sarah, Billy, and me.

Billy was the first to notice something unusual. He stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the ground ahead. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a strange shape just off the narrow path we were following. The rest of us gathered around, peering at the spot.

It was partially covered by leaves and dirt, but there was something undeniably off about it. The color was wrong—a pale, almost grayish tone that didn’t belong in the vibrant green of the woods. Sarah, always the bravest of us, crouched down to get a better look.

The face, lifeless and still, was staring up at us. The skin was cold and clammy, with a bluish tint that sent a shiver down my spine. The body was that of a man, maybe in his thirties, dressed in clothes that looked like they had been expensive once. But now, they were dirty and torn, his shoes scuffed and worn. The man’s eyes were open, but they were empty, devoid of any light.

For a moment, none of us moved. It was as if the world had frozen in place, the buzzing of insects growing distant in my ears. Tommy was the first to break the silence. “We… we should get help,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

But none of us moved. We were rooted to the spot, too shocked to think clearly. In all our adventures, in all the games we played, we had never imagined finding something like this. This was real—terrifyingly real.

Billy finally took a step back, his face pale. “We need to go. Now.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to snap us out of our daze. We turned and ran, our feet pounding against the ground as we raced back through the trees, the image of the dead man burned into our minds.

When we finally burst out of the woods and into the safety of our neighborhood, we were out of breath and shaking. We found Tommy’s mom in the kitchen, and the words spilled out in a jumble, desperate to get them out before the weight of what we had seen crushed us completely.

She didn’t believe us at first—who would? But the fear in our eyes must have convinced her, because she called the police. They arrived quickly, their sirens blaring, and soon the woods were filled with flashing lights and stern-faced officers.

We weren’t allowed to go back there after that. The police said it was too dangerous, and our parents agreed. The woods, once our playground, had become a place of nightmares. We never talked about what we had found, not really. The police never told us what had happened to the man or how he had ended up there.

But the secret in the woods stayed with us, a shadow on our childhood that we would carry forever.