Tyson and Wyatt are both 14 years old and are outs
Tyson and Wyatt are both 14 years old and are outside in the woods alone.
The woods whispered secrets to the boys. It was a symphony of rustling leaves, chirping crickets, and the distant call of a hawk. Tyson, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, pushed through a tangle of brambles. He was followed by Wyatt, his face flushed, a determined glint in his blue eyes.
“I told you, we shouldn’t have gone so deep,” Tyson grumbled, brushing a spiderweb from his face.
“Come on, Tyson. It’s an adventure!” Wyatt, ever the optimist, chirped. “We’ll be the first to find the legendary Lost Lake.”
The Lost Lake, a local legend whispered in hushed tones, was said to be hidden deep within the woods, its waters possessing the power to grant wishes. Tyson knew it was just a story, but something about Wyatt’s unwavering belief made him reluctant to completely dismiss it.
They had been following a trail for hours, the sun slowly dipping towards the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. The woods felt different now, darker, more menacing. Tyson felt a prickle of unease, a sense of being watched.
“We should head back,” he insisted. “It’s getting late.”
“Just a little further,” Wyatt pleaded, pointing ahead. “I think I see something.”
Tyson hesitated, his curiosity battling his fear. He followed Wyatt, his heart pounding in his chest. They emerged into a clearing, bathed in an eerie twilight. In the center, nestled amongst the towering trees, was a small, shimmering lake.
A gasp escaped Tyson’s lips. The water, a deep sapphire blue, reflected the fading light of the setting sun. It was beautiful, almost unreal.
Wyatt, his eyes wide with wonder, stepped closer to the edge. “It’s real,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “It’s the Lost Lake!”
Tyson, unable to resist the pull of the mystery, joined him. As they stood by the shore, a strange silence fell upon the clearing. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.
“What is it?” Tyson asked, his voice trembling.
Wyatt didn’t answer. He was staring into the water, his face pale with fear. A cold, clammy hand gripped Tyson’s arm.
“Look,” Wyatt whispered, his voice barely audible.
In the reflection of the water, they saw them. Two figures, tall and shadowy, standing at the edge of the woods, watching them.
Terror seized Tyson. He didn’t know what they were, but he knew they were not human. Their eyes, burning with an unnatural light, fixed on them.
“Run!” Wyatt screamed, pulling Tyson away from the lake.
They ran, their feet pounding on the forest floor, their breath ragged. The shadows followed them, their whispers growing louder, closer. They burst out of the woods, into the familiar comfort of the open fields.
They didn’t look back, not once. The Lost Lake, with its shimmering beauty and lurking shadows, remained a secret, a whispered legend. They would never go back. They had seen enough to know that some things were better left unseen.
