The mystery of the dark forest. Cycle «The fog». The first book

“I already like you,” she said with a grin and held out her hand. “Paula. And you are?”

“Jessica. Nice to finally meet you,” she replied, shaking her hand without a trace of hesitation.

Jessie immediately introduced Alex as well, but Paula only glanced at him briefly, without much interest, nodded, and turned away.

It was written all over her face: not impressed.

“Cheryl,” Amy spoke up, as if trying to bring everyone back on topic, “you said something yesterday about the celebration… Have you figured out where we’re going?”

Jessie and Amy had suggested throwing a costume party at someone’s house and then going trick-or-treating around the neighborhood — collecting candy, scaring neighbors, having fun. The idea seemed perfect: cozy lights, pumpkins, music, a friendly atmosphere.

But Cheryl had been indifferent then. She wanted something bigger — an actual party: loud, bright, with a real wow effect. She had promised to come up with something more interesting… and apparently had completely forgotten about it.

“A celebration? Wait… Is that the one I’m thinking of?” Paula perked up, snapping out of her lazy indifference. “And why haven’t I been invited yet?! What, am I extra or something?”

Cheryl froze. Thoughts flickered wildly in her eyes. She was visibly flustered, blinking as if she had suddenly come to in the middle of a play she didn’t know the script to.

Everyone stared at her, as if expecting just one thing — an answer.

Awkward tension thickened the air. Cheryl cast a sideways glance at Alex — pleading, as if hoping he would speak for her. But he only looked back, unsure of what to do. Then Cheryl swallowed and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

“Yeah, we’re going to a haunted house! We’ll hang out there, tell scary stories.”

“A house…” Alex began, frowning.

“…haunted?!” Amy echoed, craning her neck forward.

Doubt and mild horror flickered across the kids’ faces. They looked at Cheryl as if she had just suggested spending the night in a morgue.

Only one person — Paula — was glowing, as if she had just heard the best idea of her life. She gave a satisfied hum and squeezed her friend’s shoulder:

“Finally, someone normal.”

But then Amy, pale with tension, jerked her head up sharply:

“No!”

Paula looked down at her and sneered with open contempt:

“No one asked you, squirt.”

Silence. Heavy, dense, like November fog.

Jessica said nothing. She seemed to have taken the role of an observer, staying out of the argument. But Paula didn’t miss the moment — she shifted her gaze to her, tilted her head slightly, and smiled slyly:

“Well, at least the pretty one’s coming with us.”

“No, we need to come up with something else,” Alex cut in, his voice quiet but tight.

Something inside him tensed, pulled into a taut string. This idea — this haunted house — didn’t just sound uncomfortable. It rang with something dangerous.

He looked at Cheryl, trying to convey his anxiety with his eyes, but she didn’t understand — or pretended not to.

“Then stay home,” Paula snapped. “That’s where kids belong.”

Alex clenched his fists, exhaled heavily, and closed his eyes, as if trying to compress the storm of emotions raging inside him. A few seconds passed — and then he said quietly, almost in a whisper:

“Cheryl, can I talk to you for a moment? Please.”

Cheryl turned sharply. Paula beside her rolled her eyes demonstratively, waved a hand, and hissed through clenched teeth:

“Go already. It’s obvious…”

Cheryl forced a tight smile, as if apologizing with her eyes to her friend, and nodded at Alex:

“Of course. Let’s go.”

They stepped aside, and the evening seemed to grow colder. Paula stayed behind, idly tapping her sharp nails against the rings on her fingers, like claws on glass — with the expression of someone who sensed that things were about to get much more interesting.

Inside, Cheryl felt a smoldering anxiety. She walked beside Alex, shoulders slightly slumped, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked calm, but there was tension in his restraint — like a spring about to snap. Cheryl shrank inward: What if he explodes? Judges her? Yells?

But instead, Alex spoke almost in a whisper — restrained, but with words that rang clearly:

“Tell me you were joking. Please. What kind of celebration is this — in an abandoned house? That’s insane.”

Cheryl tried to joke it off, soften the edge:

“Alex, if you’re scared, we can — ”

“I’m not scared for myself,” he cut in sharply. “I’m scared for Jessie. You understand what could happen in a place like that at night, right? There could be vagrants there. Junkies… psychopaths.”

He swallowed.

“What if she gets hurt? She’s still a kid.”

Cheryl looked at him closely — without irritation, but with firmness, even a hint of challenge:

“I have a younger sister too. Amy. She’s at your house all the time, by the way. You think I don’t care?”

She spoke calmly, but there was steel in her voice.

“I’d tear anyone apart for her. Even Mark.”

Alex lowered his gaze, then sighed:

“Then tell everyone we changed our minds. In front of Jessie.”

He paused for a second, as if ashamed of what he was about to say:

“Yes, it’ll make you look bad. Yes, it’s awful. But I won’t take her there. I can’t.”

“And what will you tell her?”

“I’ll figure something out. But for now… just say we decided to only go trick-or-treating. Please, Cheryl.”

She froze, as if weighing the choice inside herself. It was clear how two impulses were fighting within her — the teenage rebellion and the responsibility of an older sister. After a few seconds, Cheryl slowly nodded.

Alex let out a relieved breath and hugged her automatically — without extra words, simply out of gratitude.

Cheryl stiffened for a second in his arms. It was unexpected, awkward… and yet strangely familiar. Warm. Almost familial. She allowed herself to return the hug — hesitantly, but sincerely.

On the other end of the street, Paula watched them with an expression as if she’d bitten into a lemon and washed it down with vinegar. Her eyes rolled so high it seemed she might see the sky through her skull.

“You don’t even have to start — I get it already,” she muttered, barely waiting for them to return.

Cheryl walked up to her, lightly wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and said softly:

“Paula, let’s talk about this later. You and I will still have fun. Besides, there’s a party ahead…” she whispered conspiratorially into her ear.

Paula, still wearing the look of an offended prom queen, nevertheless gave in — her lips twitched, and a faint but genuine smile appeared.

“So we’re not going to the haunted house?” Amy asked with slight disappointment, twisting a piece of dry leaf in her hands.

“No!” Alex cut in sharply, leaving no room for discussion.

Jessie, standing off to the side, shot him a look from under her brows:

“Scaredy-cat,” she said — not maliciously, but loud enough.

Alex went numb. He hadn’t expected that from her. A flash of confusion, pain, and something like hurt crossed his face. Paula smirked, looking from Jessie to him — as if the scene had suddenly become more entertaining.

“But we’ll sew the best costumes and blow everyone away!” Cheryl chimed in brightly, defusing the tension. “And we’ll invite Mark. And Simon too.”

She threw Alex a glance — half playful, half farewell. He shrugged:

“Do I even have a choice?”

“You don’t!” Paula chimed in immediately, lifting her chin smugly, as if she had reclaimed control of the situation.

Meeting Paula left a bitter aftertaste for Alex. He felt it on a physical level — like brushing against nettles. And it seemed the feeling was mutual.

Despite her outward friendliness, Paula looked down on him. To her, he was… stupid. Infantile. A cereal-box boy.

Jessie, on the other hand, she treated much more warmly — with a kind of unexpected attention, even sympathy.

Maybe it was the girl’s sharp sense of humor. Maybe the fact that she didn’t bend, but also didn’t push herself forward. Or maybe… simply because Jessie wasn’t Alex.

After the conversation, Paula and Cheryl headed into town — off for an evening walk full of whispers, cigarettes, and laughter.

Alex, Jessie, and Amy returned to the Williams’ house.

The three of them settled on Jessie’s bed — spacious, covered in pillows and a soft blanket. The girls spread out pencils, fabric scraps, notebooks, and excitedly discussed their plans.

Strangely enough, everything revolved around Halloween again.

Alex was sick of the topic. It felt like that damn holiday was haunting him like an annoying fly.

He didn’t want to take part in it. Didn’t want to pretend. And certainly didn’t want to lie.

While Jessie and Amy sketched designs, argued over lining colors and cloak lengths, he sat beside them, staring into nothing, drowning in a mess of thoughts.

What should he do?

Tell Jessie the truth? Betray Cheryl? Cause a scene? Or… let things run their course?

He didn’t know. Only one thing was clear: he didn’t want to lie to Jessie. He swore to himself he would never become the kind of adult who hides things and speaks in half-truths. But simply watching her walk into an abandoned house at night — he couldn’t do that either.

It was a dead end.

“Clap!” — a sound exploded right in front of his face.

Alex flinched. Amy stood there, wearing a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling.

“Are you even alive? Come back to planet Earth!”

He covered his face with his hands and let out a heavy breath. He wanted to disappear — even just for a couple of hours — into silence, where no one asked questions.

The girls, absorbed in their ideas, never showed him the sketches. And even though he tried to act indifferent, he was still upset. Curiosity gnawed at him from the inside. What had they come up with?..

Later, when Amy left and the house sank into cozy, pre-evening quiet, Alex’s phone buzzed with a message:

— Cheryl Brown — 10/29/08, 10:08 PM

“Meet us at eleven at my place. We’re waiting for you.”

Alex lowered the phone and looked at Jessie. She was already asleep.

The night-light cast a soft, golden halo over her face. A faint, barely noticeable smile rested on her lips.

She was sleeping, dreaming. About the upcoming holiday. About costumes. About paper lanterns and carved pumpkins. About an evening where everything would be magical.

Alex stepped closer, bent down, and kissed her forehead — carefully, almost imperceptibly.

“Good night, Jessie,” he whispered.

Then he lay down himself. Closed his eyes. But sleep didn’t come. There were only thoughts — anxious, tangled, like radio interference.

Ahead lay lying to his sister. Sneaking out of the house. And possibly something more — something he couldn’t yet explain.

At one point, he just wanted to stay. Not go anywhere. Stop clinging. But something… or someone… kept pulling him there.

At 11:00 PM he got up. Everything inside him felt eerily calm — like before a storm. He put on his jacket, zipped it up with trembling fingers, cast one last look at Jessie.

She was sleeping. Peacefully.

He wanted to be as certain as her breathing — but he wasn’t.

He went to the window.

The plan was simple: climb out, jump down, leave. But when he opened the window and looked down, sharp panic burned through him. Everything looked much lower than it had during the day. His feet recoiled instinctively. He stepped back.

Instead, he went downstairs. Walked through the hallway, barely breathing.

In the kitchen, he opened the window. There was hardly any height there. He sat on the edge, slipped down… and managed to twist his ankle.

“Fuck…” he whispered, gritting his teeth in pain.

He limped toward the Browns’ house, cursing everything — his plan, the night, this damn Halloween.

Amy and Simon were the first to spot him. Amy waved cheerfully… but when she saw that he was alone, her hand dropped immediately. Disappointment flashed in her eyes.

“Alex, where’s Jessie?” she asked, frowning.

“She… doesn’t feel well. Stayed home,” he lied.

His lips felt heavy, like lead. Every word cut into his heart — he was lying to her, lying to all of them. Lying to himself.

“Oh well, it’ll be more fun without her anyway,” Simon muttered, rolling his eyes.

“At least it definitely won’t be more fun with you,” Amy shot back instantly, without even looking at him.

Mark walked up to Alex, clapped him on the shoulder, and pulled him into a brief hug. His face glowed with genuine warmth. Alex felt something inside him loosen.

But Amy watched them — and grew sad. Why did Mark smile so easily at Alex, yet stay cold with her? Didn’t she deserve attention too?

Paula, observing from the side, didn’t miss her chance to strike:

“Alex, why so tense? Don’t tell me you’re scared, hmm?” she drawled with a crooked, fox-like smile.

But Simon crossed the line. His grin turned venomous:

“What stupid questions, Paula? He’s just a kid. Should be lying in bed, not wandering around at night with other brats.”

Alex clenched his fists. But before he could respond, Cheryl did it for him:

“Simon, what the hell are you saying?! Stop it — now!”

Her voice rang with fury.

“You were their age once too! Just because your life was crap doesn’t mean theirs has to be!”

Simon went silent. His face hardened. He spat at Alex’s feet and turned away, walking off.

It was a blow. To the heart. To his self-respect.

Alex felt something break inside him.

But Paula decided to finish him off:

“Better your sister had come instead of you. At least she wouldn’t be boring.”

A hit. The second one. Precise. Deep.

His breath caught. He wanted to turn around and run. Right now. Like before. Like always.

He had started to believe it was all behind him. That he’d found people. That he’d escaped.

And now — everything again: humiliation. Rejection. Tears.

The tears really did rise. His nostrils burned. His chest tightened. One more second — and he would crack.

But at that exact moment — Mark hugged him.

Silently. Gently. Steadily.

“I’ll never turn my back on you. I promise,” he whispered.

Those words pierced straight through the armor.

Alex hugged him back tightly, not holding back the lump in his throat or the moisture in his eyes. It wasn’t a breakdown. It was release.

He turned around.

Ahead was the group.

They were already walking down the dark street, along a fence, toward the abandoned house. Mark loosened his grip slightly but kept a hand on Alex’s shoulder. He smiled — kindly, sincerely.

Alex wiped away a tear. But this time — from relief.

He had been wrong. He did have a real friend.

“I still think this is a bad idea! I don’t want to go in there!” Amy exclaimed, stopping abruptly. “Walking around places where maniacs live or… ghosts?! That’s horrible!”

Paula rolled her eyes and smirked:

“Ha-ha, you’re funny. What ghosts, Amy? Just say you don’t want to walk around without your little friend and be done with it.”

A pause. The wind tossed her hair as she added irritably:

“You annoy me sometimes, Amy. Makes me want to just… smash your head in. Honestly though, I wouldn’t go without Jessie either.”

“No! That’s not it!” Amy snapped, her eyes flashing. “I’m genuinely afraid of ghosts. And that’s not up for discussion!”

Mark, walking a little behind them, scoffed:

“How can you believe in something that doesn’t exist?” he said tiredly, with a hint of mockery.

“And if you see a ghost — will you believe then?” Simon sneered, sliding his gaze over his brother.

“Don’t even try to scare me. You won’t succeed anyway,” Mark shot back, snorting and turning away.

They walked in silence for a while. Only footsteps crunched over the damp, trampled ground. The wind picked up, weaving through bare branches, howling like a moan.

Amy walked with a furrowed brow. Why had Jessie stayed home? What wasn’t Alex telling her? And… why had Mark become so distant? When had he pulled away?

Alex trudged along with his head lowered, as if replaying the entire evening on a loop: Jessie, lies, windows, hurt, pain — and Mark.

He could still feel Mark’s hand on his shoulder, like an anchor keeping him from sinking.

Simon glanced at him from under his brows, occasionally shooting looks at Cheryl, who walked slightly ahead. Her face was focused, but there was a faint smile in her eyes — as if she were anticipating something forbidden.

Alex couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Suddenly, Cheryl stopped sharply and raised her hand.

“Look!” she shouted. “There it is. The haunted house!”

All eyes turned forward.

Before them stood a dark mass. The house loomed over the trees like a grim giant. Two stories tall, crooked, with blackened windows — lurking, waiting.

The roof sagged, one beam jutting out like a broken fang. Rusty shutters either rattled in the wind — or to someone’s breath. The brick walls were webbed with cracks, moss crept from beneath the foundation, and somewhere deep inside the house something sounded… dull.

As if the house were breathing.

Dry trees twisted around it — skeletal, crooked, branches rustling like claws. The wind howled, clawing at the fence, making it creak like an old skeleton. And on the walls — shadows. At first blurred, like clouds… then jerking, as if running.

“They say this house is wrapped in legends,” Cheryl began. “A family lived here — a husband, a wife, and three children. One day they all just disappeared. Later they found everyone except the wife and daughter… Dead. Brutally murdered and discarded like trash. It’s believed their souls stayed here. Wandering, searching for bodies to be reborn. That was their belief. They sought out those who were different. Outsiders. Desperate ones…”

“Stop it right now! You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You know I’m afraid of this ghost crap and you keep going!” Amy shouted, on the verge of losing it.

“You knew where you were going. It’s Halloween — these stories are relevant like never before. Why are you always unhappy about something?” Cheryl asked, staring straight at her.

“None of your business…” Amy snapped, turning away sharply. Her voice trembled despite her effort to stay composed. The autumn night seemed to grow even darker.

“So are we going in or not?” Simon interrupted. “I’m not standing here till morning.”

He shivered, as if eager to get the walk over with as quickly as possible. The night wrapped around them in sticky silence, where every word sounded louder than it should.

“And how are we getting in? The fence is two meters high, there’s no entrance,” Mark said, surveying the peeling walls and black stains on the bricks that looked like dried blood.

“The fence is flimsy — just like you, little brother,” Simon snapped. “We’ll knock it down. Enough talking!”

He waved Alex and Mark over. They approached reluctantly, exchanging glances — each one full of unease.

“One, two… three!” Simon shouted.

They charged the barrier — but it turned out to be sturdier than it looked. Impact — and they bounced back like rubber balls, dropping a couple of muffled curses.

“Bitch… again!” Simon barked irritably, rubbing his shoulder.

Then a scoff sounded from the side.

Paula, standing right by the gate, shook her head in annoyance, as if watching a children’s play.

Without saying a word, she flipped back the old, rusty latch, which answered with a sinister creak in the night silence. The gate swung open on its own — like it had been waiting for them.

“Couldn’t you have said that earlier?!” Simon growled through clenched teeth. He hated looking stupid.

“Move it!” he barked, without looking back.

He went first, straightening his shoulders. Reaching the porch, he swung his leg and kicked the door with full force — it groaned as if in pain, cracked dully, and swung ajar, releasing thick clouds of dust, like the breath of a long-dead creature.

When the dust settled, they found themselves in the center of a ruined hall.

Scattered boards lay across the floor, peeling wallpaper hung in tatters, sticky cobwebs clung to the corners, and vile insects scurried back and forth as if they had lived here for centuries. The air was heavy with the stale stench of rot and age, making it feel as though the house itself was breathing them in. Most of the furniture had been taken out long ago, but here and there — like relics of a former life — remnants of past luxury still lingered: a cracked mirror staring into emptiness, a half-dismantled dresser with broken drawers, and a dusty chandelier swaying gloomily in time with the drafts.

“Please, be careful. Watch your step,” Cheryl’s voice sounded tense, as if she herself didn’t fully believe in the safety of this walk. “Don’t fall anywhere, and don’t wander off too far. If you find something strange — call out. Most important — don’t split up.”

“Wasn’t planning to, you know,” Paula muttered, scanning the flaking walls with the look of someone already tired of the whole performance.

“Then let’s split up,” Simon suddenly proposed firmly. “Mark and Paula — to the attic. Alex and Amy — check the second floor. Cheryl and I — the first.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Amy snapped, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Only just noticing?” Mark smirked, shooting her a sideways glance, though a shadow of concern still flickered in his eyes.

“Simon, this is a bad idea. They’re kids. If something happens, the responsibility’s on us,” Cheryl said anxiously, though her voice wavered — as if she already knew arguing was pointless.

“They’re grown-up kids,” Simon scoffed without even turning around. “Amy, you remember what I taught you, right?”

Amy let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Groin strike, throat strike, and run until the cops show up.”

“Smart girl!” he said proudly, like a teacher pleased with a student during an exam.

“Idiots…” Paula muttered and sharply headed for the stairs, dragging along a reluctant Mark.

Soon after, Alex and Amy followed them. Their footsteps on the creaking floorboards sounded like echoes of чужие steps in the emptiness. Cheryl stayed behind with Simon. A faint echo rolled through the empty rooms, as if the house had accepted its guests… and was now listening closely.

A tense silence settled inside. Only somewhere near the ceiling old beams crackled, the sound resembling the grumbling of an ancient skeleton that had lain too long and was about to wake.

“I don’t understand why we agreed to this at all,” Amy grumbled, carefully climbing the shaky stairs behind Alex. Each step responded with a crunch beneath her feet, as if the wood might give way any second.

“Splitting up like in a horror movie… what could possibly go wrong?”

Alex smirked but didn’t turn around.

“Believe it or not, you’re acting exactly like the heroine of that kind of movie right now. First you complain, then you’re the first to find trouble. Just be careful, okay?”