Alona’s lungs burned with each gasp as she ran through the dense underbrush, her feet slipping in the thick mud beneath her. Every shadow seemed to twist and turn with malice, her mind playing tricks as the cries of the baby echoed from all directions, a sinister melody that followed her deeper into the night.
She had no idea how long she had been running. Time blurred, each second stretched thin by the overwhelming dread gnawing at her insides. Every time she thought she had found a path back to the house, the cries would rise again, louder, more distorted, pushing her further away from safety. The baby’s voice—once pitiful and sweet—had transformed into a chilling mockery, as if taunting her every step.
Branches snapped under her weight as she forced her way through the trees, her eyes darting in every direction. The moonlight barely penetrated the canopy, casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to shift and move with every step. The thick foliage wrapped around her like a living thing, its grip tightening with each passing moment.
Her thoughts scrambled for reason. This can’t be happening. It’s not real. Justin… I have to get back to Justin. But the creature—the Tiyanak—was real. Alona had seen it with her own eyes, felt its weight in her arms before it transformed into something out of a nightmare.
She could still feel the icy coldness of its flesh, the way its tiny fingers had dug into her skin, sharp and unnatural. It had looked like a baby, so innocent, so pitiful. But the moment she had lifted it from the mud, its face had twisted into something grotesque, its mouth splitting open to reveal rows of jagged teeth, its eyes glowing with a hunger that made her blood run cold.
Now, it was chasing her, and Alona knew she couldn’t outrun it forever.
The cries grew closer, morphing into a distorted chorus of laughter and wails that echoed through the trees. It was no longer just one voice, but many—overlapping and crashing into one another like waves of despair. Alona stumbled, her heart hammering in her chest as she realized they were all around her.
She came to a stop, her breath catching in her throat as the night pressed in on her from every direction. The cries had stopped suddenly, replaced by a thick, suffocating silence that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
“Where are you?” she whispered, turning in slow circles, her eyes wide with terror. “What do you want?”
For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of the wind through the trees, and then she saw it—just beyond the line of trees ahead, the faint glow of something moving through the underbrush.
Her pulse quickened as she took a cautious step forward. The glow flickered, drawing closer, until she could make out a figure—a small, hunched silhouette, crawling slowly toward her. The baby. It was back.
“Please…” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please… stay away.”
But the figure kept coming, its movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the terror it was causing. Alona’s hands trembled as she reached for a branch on the ground, gripping it tightly. She wasn’t going to let it catch her again. Not without a fight.
The creature crawled closer, its face partially obscured by the shadows. But as it moved into the thin shaft of moonlight that cut through the trees, Alona saw it—its face twisted into that same grotesque grin, its eyes glowing like embers. This was no child. This was a predator.
Alona’s breath hitched as the creature paused, its head tilting to one side, as if considering its prey. And then it charged.
With a scream, Alona swung the branch wildly, the wood connecting with the creature’s body with a sickening thud. But it didn’t stop. The Tiyanak lunged at her, its teeth snapping inches from her face as it clawed at her legs, its nails sharp and tearing through her jeans like paper.
Alona stumbled backward, her body crashing into a tree as she swung again and again, each strike more desperate than the last. The creature screeched in fury, its tiny body writhing and twisting as it tried to sink its teeth into her flesh.
In the chaos, Alona’s foot caught on a root, and she fell hard to the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs. The Tiyanak pounced, its weight crushing her chest as its hands clawed at her throat.
“No!” she screamed, her fingers scrambling for the branch she had dropped. Her vision blurred with panic as the creature’s snarling face loomed inches from hers, its mouth wide, revealing those terrible teeth. She could smell its breath—foul and rotting, like decayed meat.
Just as its teeth grazed her skin, Alona’s hand found the branch. With a desperate cry, she swung it upward, catching the creature in the side of the head. It shrieked in pain, its body convulsing as it rolled off her and into the mud.
Alona didn’t wait. She scrambled to her feet, her legs shaking as she stumbled backward, clutching the branch like a lifeline. The creature was still writhing on the ground, its body twitching and contorting as it let out a guttural wail that echoed through the forest.
But Alona knew it wasn’t dead. Not yet.
She took a step forward, her chest heaving with ragged breaths as she raised the branch above her head. The creature’s glowing eyes locked onto hers, filled with a rage so intense it felt like it would burn her alive.
With a scream, she brought the branch down again and again, each strike fueled by terror and fury. The creature’s cries grew weaker, its body convulsing with each blow until finally, it lay still.
Alona stood over it, her chest heaving, her hands trembling as she stared down at the twisted form in the mud. Blood dripped from the branch in her hands, mixing with the dirt at her feet. She had killed it. The Tiyanak was dead.
But the cries hadn’t stopped.
Alona’s heart skipped a beat as she realized the truth. The cries were still there—faint and distant, but unmistakable. And they were coming from all around her.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned in a slow circle, her eyes scanning the darkness. The forest was alive with movement, shadows shifting and crawling toward her from every direction.
“No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rising sound of the cries. “This can’t be happening.”
But it was. The Tiyanak wasn’t alone. There were more of them—many more.
Alona’s legs felt like lead as she turned and ran, the cries growing louder with each step, closing in on her like a pack of wolves. She could hear them now—the rustling of leaves, the snapping of branches as the creatures gave chase.
Her mind raced as she tore through the forest, her body moving on pure instinct. She didn’t know where she was going—all she knew was that she had to get away. The house was somewhere behind her, but the creatures had driven her so far into the woods that she had lost all sense of direction.
The cries were deafening now, filling her ears with their high-pitched wails, and she could feel them—cold, clawed hands reaching out from the darkness, grasping at her arms and legs as she ran. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her lungs burning as her vision blurred with tears.
I have to make it. I can’t die here.
Up ahead, through the trees, she saw it—a faint glimmer of light. The house. It had to be. Alona pushed herself harder, her muscles screaming in protest as she sprinted toward the light, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.
The cries were right behind her now, the creatures closing in. She could feel their hot breath on her neck, their claws scraping against her skin. But she couldn’t stop. Not now.
With a final burst of strength, she broke through the trees, stumbling into the clearing where the house stood. The door was just a few feet away. She could make it.
But as she reached for the door, something cold and sharp wrapped around her ankle, pulling her to the ground. Alona screamed, her fingers clawing at the dirt as the creature dragged her back into the shadows, its grip unrelenting.
“No!” she cried, kicking out with her free leg, but the creature’s grip tightened, pulling her further away from the house, from safety.
In a panic, Alona reached for the branch she had dropped, her fingers closing around the rough wood. With a desperate cry, she swung it at the creature’s hand, striking it with all the strength she had left.
The creature let out a shriek of pain, its grip loosening just enough for Alona to pull free. She scrambled to her feet, her heart racing as she threw herself toward the door.
She flung it open, stumbling inside and slamming it shut behind her. Her body collapsed against the door, her chest heaving with exhaustion and terror as she slid to the floor.
The cries outside continued, growing louder and more desperate, but they couldn’t get in. Not here. Not yet.
Alona closed her eyes, her body trembling as the weight of everything crashed down on her. She had survived. But she knew, deep down, that this was far from over.
The Tiyanak was still out there.
And it was waiting.