The Twin Girls from the Forest
It was a freezing evening when I took my dog, Max, for a walk through the woods near my house. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting eerie shadows between the trees. I was just about to turn back when Max suddenly froze, his ears pricked.
Then, without warning, he bolted into the underbrush.
“Max!” I called, but he didn’t stop.
I pushed through the tangled branches after him, and when I finally caught up, my breath hitched.
Sitting on a fallen log were two identical little girls—twins, no older than nine. They were huddled together, shivering in thin clothes, their wide eyes filled with fear.
“Are you okay?” I asked cautiously.
One of them shook her head. “We live in a shed nearby…” she whispered. “Mama left us there… a long time ago.”
My stomach twisted. They looked starved.
Without hesitation, I brought them home. I fed them, gave them warm blankets, and set them up in the guest room. My daughter, Emma, was already asleep, so I planned to call social services in the morning.
But when I woke up, something was wrong.
I heard soft thuds and muffled whimpers coming from Emma’s room.
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A deep sense of dread clawed at my stomach.
I rushed down the hall and threw open the door.
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Emma was lying on the floor, pale and trembling, while the twins stood over her, whispering in a language I didn’t understand.
My blood turned to ice.
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“What are you doing?! Don’t touch her!” I screamed.
The girls turned to me, their faces eerily calm.
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And then, in perfect unison, they whispered:
“She belongs to us now.”