We barely spoke that morning.
The sun rose like it always did, but none of us believed in "normal" anymore. Not after the hut. Not after seeing our names carved into its walls—like signatures in some cosmic guestbook we never signed.
I sat on the porch with my coffee, steam curling into the cold morning air, watching the forest through tired eyes. It felt different now. Not dangerous exactly, but sentient. Like it was waiting.
Bobby joined me a few minutes later, eyes bleary, his notebook in hand. "I couldn't sleep. I kept replaying it all. The time discrepancy. The hut. The names…"
I sipped my coffee. "You think we're part of some experiment?"
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe the forest is one."
Ambrose stumbled out next, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, hair a mess. "You guys look like you watched your souls escape through your nostrils," he muttered. "Which is fair, because mine definitely tried."
He dropped beside us with a dramatic sigh. "I dreamed about the hut. But it wasn't wood anymore. It was… glass. Transparent. And something was watching us from inside."
Bobby scribbled something in his notebook. "Noted. Shared dream imagery could be the next thing we investigate."
Ambrose squinted at him. "Remind me again which one of us needs therapy more?"
Jacob emerged last, phone in hand, scanning through messages. "My wife's convinced I've joined a cult," he announced. "Which, frankly, feels like the least wild explanation for all this."
We laughed—but it was the kind that hides tension beneath.
After breakfast, we gathered in the lounge to share everything. Bobby paced while talking, the way he always did when his mind was racing.
"The watch's hands froze for thirty-two seconds while you were in the hut," he told me. "It caught on the sensor. That's not a mechanical issue—it's like time paused mid-tick."
"That's not even the weirdest part," I added. "It felt… peaceful inside. Like time didn't just slow down. It stopped matter. My heart rate dropped. My thoughts slowed. It was like being submerged underwater without drowning."
Jacob frowned. "So now time doesn't just shift—it compresses reality?"
"Exactly," Bobby said. "It's not just physics. It's perception. That's why we need to document everything. What we feel, smell, hear, not just what we see."
"Cool, cool," Ambrose interjected. "So when are we opening our paranormal podcast?"
We chuckled, but deep down, we all knew this was getting serious.
At Bobby's insistence, we ran a few small tests that afternoon.
First, we dropped two identical stopwatches into the edge of the forest—one inside the UV-marked clearing, one just outside it. After an hour, we retrieved them. The one inside ran eight seconds slower.
Next, we left a small digital camcorder on a tripod facing the clearing, set to record from 2:30 AM to 4:30 AM.
And finally, we marked a path deeper in the forest. We didn't go far—just enough to see if the trail would remain visible the next day.
That night, sleep came late. None of us wanted to be the first to drift off.
At exactly 2:30 AM, the siren sounded.
Low and mournful, almost melodic now.
We got up, grabbed our gear, and stepped outside together. Four torches. One goal.
Bobby had rigged his phone with a modified clock app that measured microsecond delays. "Just walk slow. Speak out loud. Every thought. Every feeling."
We crossed into the forest.
The trees greeted us like old friends. The mist coiled around our legs, cold and damp. It felt like entering a cathedral—vast, sacred, unknowable.
Ambrose whispered, "Why do I feel like I should be apologizing to something?"
The deeper we went, the stranger it got. Time stretched. Sound warped. Bobby's app started glitching.
And then we reached the pond again. Same tree. Same weirdly shaped roots. Same glowing ripple across the bark.
That's when we saw it.
A shimmer in the air—just beyond the clearing.
"Is that the portal?" I asked.
Bobby nodded slowly. "Or one of them."
We stepped closer. And there it was: a translucent doorway, swirling gently like a vertical puddle. Its surface rippled at our presence.
Jacob reached forward instinctively, and Bobby pulled him back.
"We go together," he said. "No solo adventures."
Ambrose raised his hand. "What if the portal spits us out as versions of ourselves who've made better life choices?"
I smirked. "Then we fight them for dominance."
"Challenge accepted," Ambrose said, flexing dramatically.
We stepped through.
It felt like walking through warm rain. Like static running along your skin.
On the other side… everything changed.
The sky wasn't dark anymore. It shimmered with hues of indigo and copper. Trees bent in unnatural shapes, as if sculpted by thought rather than wind. The air smelled like ozone and lavender.
We weren't in the forest anymore.
This was something else entirely.
"What… is this?" Jacob whispered.
Bobby stepped forward, scanning with a small device that beeped in response to nothing we understood. "I think this is one of the spaces between dimensions. A liminal zone."
Ambrose was crouching beside a puddle. "Guys. My reflection is blinking at me."
I looked. He wasn't joking.
His reflection had winked.
Before we could panic, a figure appeared on the path ahead.
Not the old man.
A woman.
Tall, draped in cloth that shimmered like the air itself, eyes glowing faintly. Her voice was calm, yet carried power.
"You've crossed the veil," she said. "You are the threads between what is and what could be."
We stood there, speechless.
"You were chosen," she continued. "Because you are bound to each other… and to the balance."
"What balance?" Bobby asked.
"The forest is one of many. Doorways exist all over your world—some forgotten, some forbidden. This one is open. And now… it sees you."
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"You decide," she said. "You can leave, forget, return to your lives. Or you can walk the path. Learn. Guard what others cannot see."
Jacob stepped forward. "And the price?"
Her eyes flickered. "Time. Memory. Truth. Perhaps even identity."
Ambrose whistled. "That's all? No soul-rending or face-eating monsters?"
Her gaze settled on him. "Not yet."
We all looked at each other.
There was no vote. No plan.
But we knew.
We were going forward.
As she vanished into mist, the world pulsed around us. Trees rearranged. Paths shimmered. Time ticked… backward?
And then we were back at the edge of the forest.
3:45 AM.
Phones buzzing.
Everything… normal.
Or pretending to be.