The stairs to nowhere truly didn't miss with their name
The hum of the engine filled the van as six friends—each excited yet slightly nervous—rattled down the dirt road toward their destination. The forest seemed to rise up around them, dense and alive. The road ahead was little more than a rugged trail, overgrown and hemmed in by towering pines. Branches reached out like skeletal fingers, scraping the sides of the van as it jostled over rocks and potholes. The farther they went, the more it felt like they were being swallowed by the wilderness itself.
Amber, the de facto leader of the group, sat in the passenger seat with a map sprawled across her lap. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her freckled face was set with determination as she traced a finger along the faded lines of the map. "This is it," she said, pointing ahead. "Turn left here."
Derrick, the driver, a tall and lanky boy with perpetually messy brown hair, squinted at the barely-visible path through the trees. "Are you sure this is a road? Looks more like a suggestion," he joked, glancing at Amber with a crooked grin.
"Trust me," Amber replied, rolling her eyes but smiling. "I’ve planned this trip for weeks. This trail leads to the perfect camping spot—isolated, peaceful, and far from any cellphone towers."
"Great," Max quipped from the back. "Nothing says fun like no Wi-Fi and a possible bear attack."
Beside him, his twin sister Maddie snorted. "Bears are the least of your worries. Remember what Amber said about all the creepy legends around here? Ghosts, cursed woods, and—what was it? Oh, yeah—stairs that go nowhere."
Sam, Amber’s younger brother, was sprawled across the back row, a bag of chips balanced precariously on his lap. "Sounds lame," he said through a mouthful of snacks, barely looking up from his phone. "I bet it’s just a bunch of drunk teenagers making up stories."
"That’s what they all say," Maddie replied with a mock-serious tone, "right before they get eaten."
Claire, the quiet one of the group, sat beside Sam with her sketchbook open on her lap. She’d been drawing the shifting trees as they drove, her pencil darting across the page in quick, precise strokes. She glanced up at the mention of legends but said nothing, her green eyes flicking to Amber as if seeking reassurance. Her pencil rested lightly on the page, poised as if ready to capture anything strange they might encounter.
"Guys, chill," Amber said. "We’re here to have fun, not scare ourselves silly."
The van hit a deep rut, sending everyone bouncing in their seats. Derrick gripped the wheel tightly, muttering, "Fun, huh? Sure doesn’t feel like it."
Maddie smirked, "Oh, come on. This is way better than that time you tried to take us to the amusement park, and the ride broke down halfway up the Ferris wheel."
Derrick shot her a look through the rearview mirror. "At least the Ferris wheel wasn’t trying to eat my suspension."
After another twenty minutes of teeth-jarring bumps and sharp turns, the trees began to open up, revealing a clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. The campsite was perfect. A small stream babbled nearby, its clear waters sparkling as they wound between smooth stones. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy above, illuminating patches of vibrant green moss.
"Finally," Derrick sighed, cutting the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening after the constant hum of the van. He leaned back, stretching his arms as if to work out the tension of the drive.
They piled out, stretching and laughing as they surveyed their surroundings. Amber took a deep breath, her chest swelling with satisfaction. This was exactly what she’d envisioned—a place untouched by the chaos of the outside world. A place where they could just exist.
"This is so cool," Claire murmured, already flipping to a fresh page in her sketchbook. Her fingers itched to capture the way the sunlight danced on the leaves, the way the stream glittered like liquid silver. Her artistic mind was overwhelmed with possibilities.
Sam, however, was less impressed. "Where’s the bathroom?" he grumbled, stuffing the last of his chips into his mouth.
"Nature is your bathroom," Maddie teased, tossing him a roll of biodegradable toilet paper. "Get used to it."
Max was already unloading gear, pulling out tents and a portable stove with an enthusiasm that belied his earlier complaints. "All right, campers," he said in a mock-official tone. "Let’s get this show on the road."
The group spent the next hour setting up camp. Derrick and Max struggled with the largest tent, cursing under their breath as the poles refused to cooperate. Maddie and Claire worked on building a fire pit, their fingers smudged with dirt as they arranged rocks in a neat circle. Amber moved with practiced efficiency, organizing supplies and double-checking their food stash.
"I’m telling you, marshmallows are essential," Max argued as Amber pulled a bag from one of the coolers. "S’mores are the cornerstone of any good camping trip."
"And horror stories," Maddie added, grinning wickedly. "What’s camping without a few terrifying tales?"
As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the group gathered around the newly built fire. Sam was roasting a hot dog on a stick, his earlier skepticism about the trip momentarily forgotten. The crackle of the flames and the chirping of distant crickets created a soothing soundtrack to their evening.
"This place is amazing," Claire said softly, her gaze fixed on the stars beginning to peek through the canopy. "Thanks for bringing us here, Amber."
Amber smiled, a mix of pride and relief washing over her. "I told you it would be worth it."
Derrick leaned back on his elbows, his face lit by the golden glow of the fire. "It’s definitely peaceful. No cars, no people—just us and the wild."
"And whatever’s watching us," Maddie whispered dramatically, her voice low and ominous.
"Shut up," Max groaned, throwing a twig at her. "You’re going to give Claire nightmares."
Claire shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I don’t scare that easily."
For now, everything seemed perfect. But deep in the forest, something ancient stirred, its awareness prickling at the presence of the intruders. And though the group didn’t know it yet, their idyllic escape was about to take a dark and terrifying turn.
-
It was Max who saw it first. “Hey, check this out!” he called, his voice tinged with excitement and curiosity, breaking the tranquil silence of the morning.
The others turned toward his voice, finding him standing a short distance away, staring at something through the trees. The forest seemed to hush around him, as though waiting for them to see what he had found. The group moved cautiously toward him, curiosity pulling them forward despite an unspoken undercurrent of hesitation.
When they reached Max, they stopped in unison, their breaths caught in their throats.
A staircase—perfectly intact and eerily out of place—stood before them, as though dropped from another world. The wooden steps, weathered yet solid, rose straight into the air, about twenty feet high, before stopping abruptly. There was no platform at the top, no structure to suggest why it had been built.
“Is this... normal?” Sam asked, his voice unusually quiet. He stepped closer, his shoes crunching softly on the undergrowth, but stayed a safe distance back, as though the stairs might suddenly move.
The rest of the group gathered around, their reactions a mixture of awe and unease. The base of the stairs was overgrown with moss, and slender vines wrapped around the railings, climbing upward like they were trying to reclaim it. Yet the stairs themselves looked oddly untouched, the wood free of rot or decay.
“That’s... weird,” Claire murmured. Her gaze lingered on the sharp angles of the steps and the unnatural way they stood against the forest backdrop. Pulling out her sketchbook, she began to draw, her fingers moving quickly over the page. She was too focused to notice the uneasy glances the others exchanged.
“It’s like... an art installation or something,” Maddie said, stepping closer. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly along the railing. The wood felt smooth under her touch, sturdy and unnervingly warm, as though it held some kind of internal energy. She yanked her hand back and wiped her palm on her jeans. “But it doesn’t look new. It’s old, really old.”
“No,” Amber said, shaking her head. Her usually confident tone wavered. “It’s too random for that. It’s too... deliberate.” She scanned the surrounding area, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the scene. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be stairs here? There’s no foundation, no sign of a building ever being here.”
“It’s creepy,” Sam muttered, backing up a step.
“Let’s climb it!” Max exclaimed suddenly, a grin spreading across his face. His adventurous spirit, always teetering on the edge of recklessness, overrode any apprehension. Before anyone could protest, he placed a foot on the bottom step.
Amber reached out instinctively. “Max, wait! It might be unstable—or dangerous. You don’t know what’s up there!”
“Or cursed,” Sam added, his voice low and nervous. He glanced around the forest, as if expecting something to emerge from the shadows.
Max laughed, his hand gripping the railing as he tested his weight. “Relax. It’s just a staircase. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Famous last words,” Maddie muttered under her breath.
Ignoring them, Max began to climb. The steps groaned faintly under his weight, but they held firm. He paused halfway up, turning back to flash a triumphant grin. “See? Nothing’s happening. You guys are such scaredy-cats.”
He reached the top, standing on the final step with his arms outstretched like he’d conquered a mountain. “Told you it’s no big deal!” he called down, his voice carrying through the forest.
One by one, the others followed, their curiosity outweighing their unease. Derrick climbed quickly, muttering something about not being shown up by Max. Maddie followed with an eye-roll, but even her confident steps betrayed a hint of hesitation.
Claire went next, her hand clutching her sketchbook as she ascended. When she reached the top, she looked out, her eyes widening slightly. “It’s just... trees,” she said softly. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, a sea of green broken only by shafts of sunlight piercing the canopy.
Amber was the last to climb, each step deliberate and cautious. She felt the weight of something intangible pressing on her chest—a warning, a sense that they were crossing a line they didn’t understand.
When they were all at the top, they stood in a small, awkward cluster, the final step beneath their feet feeling both solid and impossibly fragile. There was no railing, no platform—just the drop back to the ground and the unbroken expanse of forest ahead.
“What’s the point of this?” Maddie asked, her voice breaking the silence. She leaned forward slightly, peering down at the forest floor below.
Derrick shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Maybe it’s a prank. Or some kind of old... I don’t know, hunting lookout that fell apart.”
“Doesn’t look like it fell apart,” Claire said quietly, her gaze fixed on the stairs below. “It looks like it was built like this. Like it’s supposed to stop here.”
Amber knelt down, running her fingers over the surface of the top step. The wood was smooth and cool to the touch, but there was something unnerving about it. “This doesn’t feel right,” she murmured, half to herself.
Sam, standing near the edge, shivered and stepped back. “Okay, can we go now? I’m getting creeped out.”
The group slowly descended, the excitement of discovery replaced by a lingering unease. Each step back down felt heavier than the one before, as though they were retreating from something unseen but deeply aware of their intrusion.
When they reached the ground, they stood in silence for a moment, staring up at the staircase. It loomed above them, strange and otherworldly, casting long shadows in the dappled sunlight.
“Let’s just... head back to camp,” Amber said finally, her voice firm but quiet.
They turned and began to walk away, the forest closing in around them as they left the staircase behind. But no matter how far they went, an oppressive feeling seemed to follow them, as though the woods themselves were watching. And somewhere, in the shadows beyond their sight, something stirred.
--
That night, an unnatural chill settled over the campsite, thick and oppressive, as if the very air itself had grown cold and heavy with dread. The fire, which had burned brightly the night before, now sputtered and flickered weakly, its orange glow fighting a losing battle against the encroaching darkness. The usual sounds of the forest—the chirping crickets, the rustling of leaves, the distant hoots of owls—were eerily absent. The forest felt lifeless, as though the creatures of the night had suddenly abandoned their posts. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath, and the air was thick with an unsettling stillness. The group huddled close to the fire, its warmth now a fragile comfort, as a vague sense of unease settled in. No one spoke about it, but everyone felt it—an unspoken tension, a creeping sense that something was terribly wrong.
Claire was the first to notice how the shadows stretched longer than they should have, casting twisted, jagged shapes across the campsite. Her eyes kept darting toward the dark edge of the clearing, where the trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches bare and ominous in the dim light. Every now and then, she thought she saw movement at the periphery of her vision—something just out of sight, lurking in the blackness. But each time she turned her head, there was nothing there. She told herself it was the wind playing tricks on her, but the feeling of being watched refused to go away. It gnawed at her, even as she tried to distract herself by talking with the others. The usual banter felt hollow, as though the very air was sucking the life out of their voices.
Sam, ever the joker, seemed to be the only one unaffected, cracking jokes to break the tension, but even his laughter held an odd edge tonight. They were all growing uneasy, each person too aware of the unnatural quiet around them. No one dared to speak of it, though. It felt foolish, irrational, like admitting to being scared would make whatever was out there real. But deep down, they all knew something was wrong.
Around midnight, Claire woke with a start. Her body shot upright, heart racing, as though something had yanked her from sleep. For a moment, her mind was blank, lost in the fog of slumber. But then, she heard it—a low, guttural growl, distant but unmistakable. It was not the normal sounds of the forest, not the rustle of an animal or the wind sweeping through the trees. This sound reverberated through the earth itself, vibrating the very ground beneath her. It was a growl that seemed to come from something ancient, something massive. The sound churned the pit of her stomach, and a cold sweat broke out across her skin.
Claire sat up in her tent, breath shallow, listening. The growl lingered for a moment before fading into the night, like the last echo of a thunderclap. But its weight hung in the air, thick and oppressive. Her mind raced as she strained her ears for any sign of movement, but all was silent once again. She pushed aside the irrational surge of fear that threatened to consume her. It had to be an animal, she told herself, maybe a bear or some other predator, though she couldn’t quite recall ever hearing a sound like that before.
With trembling hands, she reached for the flashlight at her side. Her fingers brushed over it, but before she could switch it on, the sound returned—a low, rumbling growl, closer now, almost as though it were circling the camp. Claire’s heart pounded in her chest. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she froze, her breath held tight in her lungs. She waited, straining to hear, but the growl didn’t come again. The stillness returned, but it wasn’t the comforting quiet of night. It felt wrong, as though the world had gone still in anticipation of something terrible.
Claire lay back down, her mind whirling with thoughts that wouldn’t quiet. She closed her eyes, willing herself to ignore the cold dread that spread through her body, but sleep wouldn’t come. The fear lingered, thick and suffocating, and it gnawed at her every time the wind whispered through the trees. There was something out there, something watching them. She could feel it in her bones. The sound was still fresh in her ears, echoing like a warning.
The next morning, Sam was gone.