The dark village

Nancy hated buses. They always smelled wrong—stale sweat, damp fabric, and something sour she couldn’t name. The seats were dirty, the air thick, and every bump in the road made her more irritated.

She dragged her heavy luggage up the narrow steps, her arm already aching, and shoved it onto a random seat far away from her classmates. The bus groaned under the weight of too many students, too much noise, and a trip she already knew she would regret.

Nancy looked out of the window. The sun was light and warm, spilling over the trees, their leaves a deep, healthy green. Everything looked peaceful—too peaceful, as if the forest were pretending to be harmless.

She closed her eyes and imagined the village she was heading toward. Excitement stirred in her chest—something that rarely happened. Dark mysteries, unknown places, and frightening, adrenaline-filled horror stories had always drawn her in.

Just as she drifted into her own thoughts, a sudden movement beside her broke the calm.

Her best friend—bubbly with her but shy around others—sat down next to her without warning.

“Nancy!” she said quickly. “Are you atleast a bit excited about the trip? I know you don’t like trips, especially with lots of people, but I think it’s going to be really nice. We could do so many things together—just us—if you want. Or we could—”

Words spilled out faster than she could stop. Normally, Nancy would have been annoyed. But this was her best friend, and in some strange way, she liked listening. She stayed quiet, answering with short replies now and then, letting the sound of her friend’s voice fill the space.

The chatter continued as the sunlight outside slowly faded. With it, the warmth inside her chest disappeared. The air grew colder. The world beyond the windows darkened unnaturally—like they were driving straight out of summer and into a cold, endless winter.

She told herself she was excited. She had to be. Yet deep in her chest, a quiet dread stirred, whispering that something terrible was waiting for them.

Then the bus suddenly stopped.

“Alright, class! Everyone, slowly get out of the bus. We’re here,” the teacher said.

Nancy and her best friend Tanja got up.

Tanja had been complaining to her for what felt like the hundredth time that she didn’t like the village. She’d much rather be somewhere like a sunny beach in Miami—or something equally cliché.

Nancy listened, as she always did, but she was secretly glad. At least they weren’t stuck at an overcrowded, sloppy tourist beach.

They stepped off the bus, and in front of them stood a building—if you could even call it a holiday home. The paint was peeling. The shutters hung crooked. The roof sagged as if it were too tired to hold itself up. The windows were dark. Some were cracked. They seemed to watch the newcomers like empty eyes.

The air smelled faintly of damp wood—and something else Nancy couldn’t name, sour and metallic. The forest pressed close around the house. The trees were tall and black against the dimming sky, their branches scratching at each other like dry fingernails.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. Even Tanja, usually loud and carefree, hesitated at the foot of the bus steps, glancing nervously at the building.

For a moment, the wind whispered through the forest. Or maybe it wasn’t wind at all.

It was something evil.

“I wish I was at the beach right now,” Tanja whispered, both to herself and to Nancy.

She couldn’t speak. She usually found a strange thrill in scary things, a sort of excitement. But this… this was different.

Real.
Here.
Watching.

Suddenly, out of the shadows, an old woman appeared. Her hair was grey and stringy, her skin shriveled like old parchment. And she was smiling.

But it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was a sinister one.

She stepped closer, fixing her gaze directly on Nancy. Her eyes were wide… and her teeth—almost sharp.

A dark feeling crawled up Natalie’s spine, and her chest tightened.

The old woman stared at her for a few seconds—intense, lingering, filled with… some kind of evil hunger?

Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, the woman turned away and addressed the other kids.

“Hello, my dear children! Welcome to your new home for this week. I hope you will like it here!”

She seemed friendly, but only Nancy could see the falseness in her tone and the way her hands were folded—too precise, like an actor performing a role.

“I will guide you and show you the kitchen, your bedrooms, and tomorrow we will take a tour of the village… and the forest,” she said, her smile never faltering.

In the corner of her eye, Nancy caught the woman glancing at her again. She forced herself to ignore it. It means nothing, she told herself. The creepy feeling was probably just because she’d read too many scary books… or because of homesickness.

“Now, please follow me. First, I will show you the house and explain the details,” she said, her voice calm… too calm.

Nancy leaned closer to Tanja, whispering into her ear.
“Did you… see the way she looked at me?”

The woman had already turned away, heading toward the building, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.
“It was like… she was inspecting me or something. It was so… creepy.”

“Please… don’t scare me,” Tanja whispered back. “This place is already creepy. And if you’re creeped out, then that means… something.”

Slowly, Tanja and Nancy dragged their luggage into the old, strange house. In front of them loomed a large wooden door.

The woman reached for the handle and pushed it open. A loud, sharp creak echoed through the hallway, making even Nancy flinch.

“I hope we will have a great time together,” the woman said, still not looking back. But Nancy could swear she felt that smile again, curling just at the corners of her lips.

“This village… is a very special place,” she added, her voice smooth, almost hypnotic.

“Now, please, let me show you around my… modest home,” she said, her voice soft, but with an edge that made Nancy's skin crawl.

This was not… a normal place.