Spring Sacrifice

The woods of Hollow Glen were quiet, save for the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the last rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting long, eerie shadows. The group of teenagers—Ellie, Jake, Sarah, and Ryan—had ventured there on a dare. Rumors of strange happenings in the forest around Easter had been passed down for years, but none of them believed in ghost stories.

At least, not until they stumbled upon the clearing.

It was Sarah who spotted it first: a circle of stones arranged around a crude wooden altar. The altar was decorated with twisted vines, animal bones, and brightly colored eggs that looked out of place in the grim setting. A tall, blood-red candle flickered in the center, its wax pooling like a scarlet wound. Strange symbols were carved into the surrounding trees, and the faint hum of chanting drifted through the air.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ellie whispered, her voice trembling.

“Wait,” Jake said, stepping closer to the altar. “This is probably some dumb art project or something. Let’s check it out.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Right, because normal people just leave creepy altars in the middle of the woods.”

Before anyone could stop him, Jake reached out and picked up one of the eggs. It was heavier than it looked, its surface cold and oddly slick. A shiver ran down his spine as he turned it over in his hands. Carved into the shell was a symbol: a jagged spiral that seemed to pulse faintly in the dying light.

The chanting grew louder.

From the shadows, figures emerged. They wore tattered robes and masks shaped like leering rabbit faces, their eyes dark hollows that seemed to pierce straight through the teens. Each figure carried a weapon—rusted scythes, jagged knives, and crude bows strung with frayed string. The tallest of them, standing at the front, raised a hand.

“You’ve trespassed on sacred ground,” the leader intoned, their voice low and guttural. “And now, you must pay the price.”

The group froze in terror as the robed figures began to circle them. Ellie grabbed Jake’s arm. “We need to run. Now.”

But before they could move, the leader pulled a knife from their robe and dragged it across the palm of their hand, letting blood drip onto the altar. “The hunt begins,” they declared.

The rabbit-masked figures howled, a bone-chilling sound that echoed through the forest. The leader pointed at the teens. “Run.”

And they did.

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Branches whipped at their faces as they sprinted through the forest, the sound of heavy footsteps and wild laughter chasing them. The cultists moved unnaturally fast, their masks glowing faintly in the darkness. The forest seemed to work against the teens—roots reached up to trip them, the undergrowth slowed their every step, and the symbols carved into the trees seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

Jake was the first to fall. He tripped over an exposed root, and before he could scramble to his feet, a cultist was upon him. The last thing the others heard was his scream, cut short by a wet, sickening sound.

The group pressed on, adrenaline driving them as their lungs burned and their muscles ached. Sarah stumbled into a shallow stream, the cold water soaking her shoes. She turned to help Ellie, but the cultists were too close. One of them raised a scythe, its blade gleaming in the moonlight, and brought it down.

Ellie’s scream pierced the night, but Sarah didn’t look back.

Ryan and Sarah eventually found themselves at the edge of a cliff, the drop below shrouded in mist. The cultists closed in, their masks glowing like malevolent lanterns. The leader stepped forward, blood still dripping from their hand.

“You’ve run far,” they said, their voice almost amused. “But the Spring Sacrifice must be completed. Your blood will nourish the earth, and the harvest will be plentiful.”

Ryan snarled, grabbing a rock and hurling it at the leader. It struck the mask, cracking it slightly, revealing a glimpse of the human face beneath. But the cultist didn’t falter. They raised their knife, and the others surged forward.

Sarah grabbed Ryan’s arm. “Jump!” she screamed.

“What?”

“We have no choice!”

Before he could protest, she pulled him over the edge. The wind roared in their ears as they fell, the ground rushing up to meet them.

________________________________________

Sarah woke to the sound of birdsong. Her body ached, but she was alive. Ryan lay nearby, groaning as he stirred. They had landed in a shallow marsh, the mud breaking their fall.

But their relief was short-lived. From the edge of the cliff above, the rabbit-masked cultists stared down at them, their glowing eyes unblinking.

The leader’s voice carried on the wind. “You can’t run forever.”

And deep in the forest, the altar began to glow. The hunt wasn’t over. It would never be over.

Thank you, everyone, for reading through or listening to my stories in your free time. I do appreciate the support!