The wind whistled through the grove of scarlet oak trees as Travis, Eve, and their 8-year-old son Robin wandered deeper into the Maine woods, gathering mushrooms for dinner. It had become a favorite weekend tradition since they moved from the sweltering heat of Texas to the cooler, breezy hills of Maine.
The transition to this quiet town had been a relief for Travis, who had health problems aggravated by the relentless heat. Doctors had recommended a change of climate, and when his company offered him a transfer and a promotion, it felt like the perfect opportunity.
It had been three months since they settled into their new life, and this calm afternoon was supposed to be no different from the others. But Travis, feeling a spark of curiosity, decided to explore a part of the forest they had never ventured into before. The woods seemed endless, with winding paths and towering trees, and the thought of finding something new excited him.
As they walked along the gravel trail, Travis noticed that their Doberman, Brandy, was nowhere to be seen. “Probably just went to pee,” he thought, but his worry grew when he heard frantic barking in the distance. Travis’s heart began to race as he pushed through the thick grass, following the sound. When he arrived, he found Brandy crouching down, barking fiercely at something hidden in the underbrush.
“What is it, boy?” Travis called, stepping closer to see what had caught his dog’s attention.
Through the tall grass, Travis stumbled upon something unexpected. The air seemed to grow colder, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw it—a cemetery hidden deep in the woods, with over a hundred weathered tombstones. Some were still in decent shape, while others had been overtaken by moss and the passage of time. But one particular headstone caught his eye.
“Whoa, what is this place? Some kind of 1800s cemetery?” Travis muttered, his hand instinctively going over his mouth in shock. Eve and Robin caught up to him, their faces falling as they took in the eerie scene.
“Honey, I think we should go back,” Eve said nervously, her voice trembling as she hugged her jacket tighter around herself. “I don’t like this place. Look at those antlers… those bones… and what are those things? Voodoo dolls? Oh my God, I feel like we’re not supposed to be here.” She looked around, her eyes wide with unease.
But before anyone could move, Robin, always the curious one, had already wandered deeper into the graveyard. “Daddy! Mommy! Look!” he called out, his voice full of excitement. “I found Dad’s picture! I found Dad’s photo!”
Travis and Eve rushed to him, their hearts pounding in their chests. Robin was pointing at a crumbling grave, where a tilted headstone displayed a photo of a young boy—Travis, wearing a yellow shirt. Travis froze. His hands shook as he knelt down to dust off the debris from the picture.
“This can’t be real,” Travis whispered, staring at the photograph with a sense of disbelief. The date on the plaque was unmistakable: January 29, 1984—his own birthdate.
“Why is my photo here?” Travis muttered, confused. “I don’t even remember wearing a shirt like this when I was a kid. What is going on?”
He pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a picture of the headstone. “We need to leave, honey,” Eve pleaded, her voice filled with dread. “I don’t know what this place is, but it feels wrong. It doesn’t feel safe, especially for Robin. We need to go.”
Travis hesitated, still processing what he had just seen. But eventually, he agreed, and they made their way out of the woods and back to their jeep. Travis sat in the passenger seat, his mind racing.
“I can’t focus,” Travis confessed, his voice strained. “I keep thinking about that headstone. What was my childhood photo doing there? Maybe it’s just a coincidence… maybe there’s another kid who looks like me. But…” His voice trailed off as his mind raced with unanswered questions.
Eve tried to reassure him, but it was clear that Travis couldn’t shake the thought from his mind. “Maybe it’s nothing,” she said, handing him a cup of tea when they got home. “You don’t remember your childhood. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. There are a ton of people out there who look like you. Just forget about it.”
But Travis couldn’t. His mind kept circling back to that photograph, the one he didn’t remember, the one that shouldn’t have been there. He sat down with his phone, zooming in on the image of the young boy. “This photo… it looks so much like me. But I’ve never been to Maine before.”
Eve sighed. “You’re overthinking it. We’ve only been here a few months. Maybe it’s some kind of weird coincidence. Just let it go. Dinner’s waiting.”
Travis wasn’t ready to let it go. He couldn’t. The memory of being abandoned at a church doorstep when he was three years old, with nothing but a note, flooded back. The note had said: “This boy’s name is Travis. He was born on January 29, 1984. He’s 3 years old and needs help. Please do not send him back to where he came from.”
The authorities had never found out who his real parents were, and he had spent his life in foster care, eventually adopted by a couple in Texas. The memories of his parents, if they were even his real parents, were faint, and his dreams about a woman running through the woods, holding a child, had only added to his confusion.
He had almost given up on finding any answers, accepting the life he had built with Eve. But now, staring at the photo, everything felt wrong. “Could this be connected to my parents? Maybe this grave is somehow tied to my family… or to the people who abandoned me,” Travis muttered to himself.
Determined to find answers, Travis began asking locals about the mysterious cemetery. Some were frightened to even talk about it, but eventually, one name kept popping up—Lois Woods, an elderly woman who lived alone at the edge of town. They visited her the following day, hoping she might have some answers.
“Are you sure she knows anything?” Eve asked, nervously squeezing Travis’s arm as they stood at the door of Lois’s small house.
“She’s the oldest person in town. If anyone knows something, it’ll be her,” Travis said, knocking firmly. The door creaked open, and they were greeted by an old woman with sharp eyes and a walking stick.
“Yes, how may I help you?” Lois asked, her voice slow and deliberate.
“Hi, I’m Travis, and this is my wife, Eve. We moved here a few months ago, and we recently found an old cemetery in the woods. There’s a headstone there with a photo of me when I was a child. Do you know anything about it?” Travis asked, showing Lois the picture on his phone.
The color drained from Lois’s face as she stared at the photo. Her eyes widened in fear. “You shouldn’t be going near those woods,” she said in a low, trembling voice. “Do you have children?”
“Yes, we have a son,” Eve replied, her concern deepening.
“Then you need to keep him away from that place,” Lois warned. “It’s not safe. Those woods… they’ve always been… wrong.”
Travis felt a chill run down his spine. “Why? What’s the story behind it?”
Lois sighed heavily and gestured for them to come inside. Once they were seated, she began to speak.
“When I was a girl, my grandmother told me stories about a secret cult that lived in those woods. They worshipped a god and performed strange rituals, sacrifices even, to please their deity. Some say they even took children. The police eventually raided their hideout, but the cult’s leader and some of the members escaped into the forest, never to be seen again. People started avoiding the woods after that. But rumors still linger about what happened there.”
“Could it be connected to my family?” Travis asked, his heart pounding in his chest. “What does all of this have to do with me?”
Lois’s face grew even more somber. “There’s someone who might know more… Teddy Sutton. His father was the cop who led the raid against the cult. But Teddy… he keeps to himself, and he doesn’t talk about what happened.”
Travis and Eve exchanged uneasy glances. “Where can we find him?” Travis asked.
“The last house on this street,” Lois said, pointing down the lane. “It’s run-down, with a broken chimney and dogs always barking inside.”
Reluctantly, the couple made their way to the house. The door creaked open, revealing a frail old man who looked at them suspiciously.
“What do you want?” he asked gruffly.
“We need your help, Mr. Sutton,” Travis said, showing him the photo from the headstone. “Please, you’re the only one who can help us understand what’s going on.”
Teddy stared at the photo, his face turning pale. “This boy… this photo…” he murmured. “I know this boy.”
“That’s me,” Travis said, his voice trembling.
Teddy motioned for them to come inside. “You don’t know the full story. But you’re about to,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of something long buried.
And as Teddy began to tell the story, the terrifying truth behind Travis’s past—and the horrors of the cult—started to come to light.