WOODWICK
Chpater 2: The Girl in the Fog

Winter Summers – POV

By Lenn Marcus

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The moonlight pooled softly through the window, painting long shadows across my room.

The woods looked normal.
But the fog was still there.

Not thick like before. Not crawling.
Just hanging — low, still, waiting.

I watched it drift faintly between the trees, silver in the moonlight.
Too still.

Like it hadn’t left.
Like it never planned to.

Dark. Quiet.
The woods stood as if nothing had ever happened.

But I didn’t believe it.

They sat too still. Like the silence between held breaths.

The unsettling feeling... hadn’t left.

I hugged my arms tighter around myself, staring past the glass.

Behind me, Neptune stirred on the bed. His tail flicked once, then stilled.

A soft knock tapped the door.

I flinched.

 “Winter?” Mom’s voice — gentle, hesitant. “You still awake?”

“Yeah,” I said, not turning.

The door creaked open, casting a slant of hallway light across the floor.
She stepped in slowly, like walking into my room might set something off.

 “Just checking in,” she said. “You were quiet at dinner.”

“Tired.”

She followed my gaze to the window.

 “Fog’s thinned out a bit,” she said. “Weird how thick it got for a while, huh?”

I almost told her.
About the porch. The stillness. The way the fog moved with purpose —
like it saw me.

But I didn’t.

 “You sure everything’s okay?”

That was the moment.

One word — and she’d lean in.
One crack — and the cycle would start again: another prescription, another therapist asking if I had “trouble distinguishing what’s real.”

So I breathed in slow.

Then lied.

 “Yeah. Just... adjusting.”

She didn’t fully believe me.

But she smiled anyway, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Her fingers were warm.

 “Okay. Well... if anything comes up,” she said, “you don’t have to hold it in.”

I nodded.

She stood there for a second longer. Then turned.

 “Try to get some sleep, sweetheart.”

The door clicked softly shut.

I sat in the dark.

Still watching the fog.

Still wondering why it hadn’t left.

 “I’m not crazy,” I whispered, hugging my legs tight, head buried between them.

But the room didn’t answer.

Eventually, sleep took me anyway.

---

The next morning came quietly.

Gray light filtered through the blinds — pale, cold.
I sat up slowly, muscles stiff like they’d been bracing all night.
Neptune was gone from the bed.

A faint clatter came from outside. Tools? Movement?

I got up, rubbing the back of my neck, and peeked through the window.

Mom was in the backyard, crouched by the old fence, fiddling with a few wooden planks and rusted nails. A steaming mug balanced on a crate nearby.

Neptune circled her feet, brushing against her leg.

I got dressed quickly and padded downstairs.
The house was warm, but too quiet — like it was holding its breath. Anticipating.

When I reached the back door, I stopped.

My hand found the knob. Rested there.
The cold metal against my warm palm.

For a second, I forgot why I’d even come down.

Then I remembered. The porch. The fog.
The way the woods had felt like they were breathing. Watching.

My fingers tightened slightly.
Took a deep breath pushing the thought away.
Then I turned the handle.

Cold air brushed my skin the second I stepped out. Not sharp — just enough to wake up my arms.

The porch groaned under my boots. Same worn railing. Same crooked gate at the far end of the yard.

 “Morning,” Mom called without turning. “You’re up earlier than I expected.”

I folded my arms and stepped beside her. My eyes drifted automatically to the tree line.

No fog. No unnatural silence. Just still, normal trees.

 Maybe it really was just my head.

“Looks better without all that fog in the way,” she added. “You can actually see something now.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s… better.”

She sat herself down on the steps, sighing as she wrapped her fingers around her mug. Neptune trotted over and curled beside her like the night before had never happened.

I followed and sank down beside them.

A beat of silence passed between us — not heavy, just... waiting.
Yesterday’s guilt tugged at my chest.

Slight... but heavy all the same.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, eyes on my hands, head lowered. “About yesterday.”

She looked over at me, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

“I snapped. I know.”

She reached out, her palm warm as it gently touched my knee. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re both figuring things out.”

We sat there for a while.

The wind stirred a little. The porch creaked like it agreed.
And for once, nothing needed saying.

CRACK.

A gunshot split the stillness — sharp, echoing.

Neptune’s body snapped upright. He darted forward without warning, launching off the porch like a bullet.

 “Neptune!” I jumped to my feet, heart jolting.

Mom just chuckled behind me, as if she'd been expecting it.

 “Welcome to Woodwick,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Hunting season never end here. It just naps.”

I turned, narrowing my eyes. “You’ve lived here before.”

She didn’t answer. Not exactly.
Just looked at me with that careful stillness she always used when she didn’t want to lie — or tell the truth.

Before I could push, she pointed past me.

 “Your little friend seems more spooked than you.”

I followed her finger.

Neptune had already reached the edge of the yard and squeezed through the rusted, hanging gate like it wasn’t even closed.

 “Neptune, no—!”

I backed away from Mom, shooting her a look that said we are absolutely talking about this later, and took off after him.

I yanked the gate wide and sprinted towards the tree line.

---

The woods were dense with tall, slender trees, their bare branches tangled high above, blotting out the sky. A thin layer of fog drifted low across the forest floor, letting just enough light through to paint everything in a muted, gray.

Leaves — red, gold, and brown — carpeted the ground.
Twigs snapped beneath my boots as I moved carefully forward.

 “Here, kitty kitty…”

No answer.

I stepped deeper between the trees, scanning every shadow, every gap.
But every direction looked the same — like the forest had copied and pasted itself on loop.

Each step echoed softer. The birdcalls faded.
Even the air felt quieter.

I paused against a tree, catching my breath. One hand braced my knee, the other rested on the bark. My lungs tightened.

 “Neptune?”

Still nothing.

My gaze swept over the surroundings. The fog hung low and still between the trunks — like it was waiting for permission.

Then, something shifted.

No breeze.
No sound.
Even the leaves held their breath.

The fog rippled.
Just once — forward, soft and slow — like an unseen breath moving through it.

My spine straightened. Heartbeat loud in my ears.

A beat of silence.

Stretched. Thin.

Pressing.

And then—

 “Are you lost?”

I gasped and spun, stumbling back a step.
My hand flew to my chest.

A girl stood just a few feet behind me, her white dress swaying in the still air. Her long black hair curled slightly at the ends, drifting like it was underwater.

She held a broken tree branch, waving it slowly through the air as if teasing something invisible.

Her eyes — deep forest green — were locked on the branch’s jagged tip.

I let out a shaky breath, my hand still pressed to my chest. My heart hadn't slowed, but at least it wasn't something worse.

 “N-no,” I managed. “Just… looking for my cat.”

She giggled behind her hand.

 “The small gray-and-white one?” she asked, finally meeting my eyes. “I saw him. Want me to show you?”

I hesitated, then nodded slowly.

 “You can call me Marian, scaredy-cat,” she said, stepping closer. Her gaze was playful — but too steady.

Her eyes darted from the branch to me.

 “These woods aren’t safe, you know. Not for girls like you.”
 “There are scarier things than me out here.”

She smiled wide — almost proud of it.

 “Really? Like what, wolves?” I asked, trying to steady my voice, fingers tightening around the sleeves of my jacket.

 “Nope.” Her voice softened, almost a whisper.
 “Like monsters. And old witches. The kind that put curses on you.”
 “If you’re scared, you should go home.”

Her fingers twitched at her side.

And for a moment — just one breath — she looked over her shoulder like she expected something to be there.

“They don’t scare me anymore,” she said quickly. "I'm a big girl now."

Her grin curled higher — daring me.

 “Aren’t you scared?”

She paused, tilting her head as her branch lowered again.

I looked down, then off toward the trees.

 “No… not really,” I said, though my throat was tight. “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

Marian smiled.

 “Hmm I see... Neither do I.”

She dropped the branch gently at her feet, then hopped over it like it marked some invisible line.

 “I live close by,” she added, skipping forward a few steps. Then she turned, smiled, and said:
 “Come. Let’s go find Mister Cat.”

Without another word, she skipped ahead, humming softly.

Ring around the Rosie…

I followed.

The fog grew heavier as we walked. It curled up past our ankles, whispering around tree trunks. My boots made no sound. Marian’s voice floated ahead — light and careless, like she wasn’t walking through the same woods I was.

My chest tightened with every step. My breath slowed.
Thoughts clawed for answers.

Does she really know where she’s going?
Should I even be following her?

“You’re sure you saw him?”

 “Mhm. Mister Cat was hiding.”
 She twirled, took two wide leaps, then stopped.
 “A pocket full of…”

She pressed a finger to her lips.

 “Shhh.”

Then she smiled — a little too knowingly — and vanished into the fog.

 “Come! Come! Follow me!”

 “Wait—!”

I ran after her. Her voice echoed once. Then again.

Then vanished.

Gone.

I stopped cold.

Spun in place. Looked behind me — then ahead.

Nothing. No trees I recognized. No path. Just fog.

Thick. Dense. Swallowing.

My chest heaved.

 “Marian?” I called.

Silence.

The fog didn’t move this time — it leaned.

THUD.

I froze.

A deep, echoing sound from behind. Like cement slamming into the earth.
Then another.
And another.

Slow. Heavy.
Measured.

I turned toward it.

THUD. Closer now.

I backed away instinctively, eyes wide, scanning the fog.

Nothing.

Just the sound.
Each step like a heartbeat in the dirt — too big, too deliberate.

My heel struck something solid.

Stone.

I gasped, reaching behind me.

A wall.

Cold. Slick with moss. Too tall to see the top.

I flattened against the wall, heart climbing into my throat.

They kept coming.
Closer. Louder. Heavier.

I shut my eyes and held my breath.

It’s not real.
It’s just your mind playing tricks again… it has to be.

A breath stuttered in my chest — thin and broken.
I didn’t know if it came from fear…
or the pills I hadn’t taken.

THUD.
A breath.
A low creaking sound — like tree trunks splitting under too much weight.

Don’t move.

The breath was warm.

And it smelled like ashes. And decay.

Don’t look.
Just let it pass.

It was close enough to touch.

Too close.

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears like it wanted out.

I listened.

One second.
Two.
Still nothing.

Slowly — like peeling back the edge of a nightmare —
I opened my eyes.

The fog had backed off.
Just enough to leave space between me and the wall.
Just enough to leave doubt.

The forest stood still again.

Empty.
Silent.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling…

Something had been there.
And maybe… still was.

I pressed my hand to the stone, fingers trembling, and began to follow the wall.

One slow step after another.

Then — an opening.

Two massive pillars rose from the fog, coiled in vines and shadow. Between them, a weathered wooden sign swayed on a rusted chain.

I stepped back half a step. Too unsettled to step forward. But too afraid to go back either.

The carved letters read:

 Heaven’s Garden

I stood there, breath held tight.

The fog beyond the gate was thicker than anywhere else — dense, unmoving.

Like a curtain.

Like something behind it didn’t want to be seen.

I didn’t step through.

Just stood there, staring into the gray, uneasy.

Because I couldn’t tell what unsettled me more:

That something might be waiting beyond that gate…

Or that something already knew I was here.


END OF EPISODE 2

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Author’s Note:

Hey, there!

Thanks so much for joining me for Episode 3 of WOODWICK. Things are just starting to unfold, and I promise—we’re only scratching the surface. The fog is getting thicker… and so is the mystery.

This is my third post on Tapas, and I’m genuinely grateful for everyone who's reading, liking, and sharing. Your support makes a huge difference—it keeps this strange, eerie world of Woodwick alive.

If this chapter gave you chills (or raised more questions than answers), I’d love to hear from you.
Please like, comment, and subscribe—your feedback fuels the fog and helps other readers find the story.

Until next time, stay curious… and don’t follow the girl in the woods. 🌲

Pen drop. Episode done.
– Lenn Marcus