I was never the type to believe in ghost stories. You know the ones—old, dusty legends passed down to scare kids into staying inside at night. But there’s one story that no one talks about, not anymore. It’s like Briarwood Road itself is cursed. People act like it doesn’t exist, like you’ll turn to stone just by mentioning it.

Last summer, that’s where everything changed for me.

It was a Friday night, and the air was heavy with the smell of rain. My friends and I had spent the day at the park, bored out of our minds. Jordan, who always acted like he had something to prove, dared us to go to Briarwood.

“Bet none of you have the guts,” he said, smirking like he owned the world.

I remember laughing, mostly to hide the shiver that crept up my spine. I had heard things, you know? Just whispers. About how, a long time ago, some kid went missing on Briarwood, and they never found him. Not even a trace. But I wasn’t about to let Jordan call me a coward.

“Fine,” I said, “let’s go.”

We started walking, the sun setting behind us, casting long, jagged shadows on the cracked pavement. The streetlights were broken, and the further we walked, the darker it got. When we reached Briarwood Road, the only light was from the half-moon hanging low in the sky.

There was something off about the place. The trees lining the road were twisted, like skeletal hands reaching for something. Everything was too quiet. There were no cars, no wind, not even the chirp of crickets. Just… silence.

“C’mon, let’s just walk down the street and be done with it,” I said, trying to shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at my gut.

We started down the road, and for a minute, it was fine. We were laughing, calling each other names for being scared. But then I noticed something. A figure. Just ahead, standing at the end of the street. At first, I thought it was a person, but it didn’t move. It was just… there.

“Hey, you see that?” I whispered to Jordan.

He squinted, but before he could answer, Emily screamed. I swear, I’ve never heard someone scream like that. It was raw, panicked, like an animal caught in a trap. She was pointing at the figure, but it wasn’t standing still. It was closer, much closer than it had been seconds ago. But it hadn’t walked, hadn’t run. It was just suddenly there.

The thing was tall, too tall, its limbs stretched out like they didn’t belong to it. Its face—God, I’ll never forget that face—was nothing but a dark void, like the night itself had swallowed it whole.

“Run!” someone yelled, and we did. We bolted down the road, but no matter how fast we ran, the shadow was right behind us. I could feel it. Cold air brushed against the back of my neck, like icy fingers reaching out to drag me into the dark.

We split off, each running in a different direction, hoping to lose it. I don’t know where the others went, but I took a sharp turn and hid behind a dumpster, trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

I peeked out from my hiding spot, praying the thing had given up, but that’s when I saw it again. Not moving, just standing there, staring—or whatever it did—right at me. It was like it knew exactly where I was, like it had been watching me the whole time.

I closed my eyes, counted to ten, then opened them. The shadow was gone.

I didn’t stop running until I got home. I burst through the door, drenched in sweat, and locked every window and door behind me. My parents thought I was crazy, kept asking me what happened, but I couldn’t explain it. How could I? I didn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the thing's empty face, its long limbs reaching out for me.

The next day, I called my friends. Emily didn’t pick up. Neither did Jordan.

The police found them later, both gone without a trace, just like the stories. They searched Briarwood Road for weeks but came up with nothing. No bodies, no evidence, just… nothing.

People in town don’t talk about Briarwood Road anymore. No one goes near it. And every night, when the sun goes down, I lock my doors and keep my eyes open, just in case.

Because I know it’s still out there. Waiting.