Some doors never stay closed

Years passed, and life went on.

Ben, Dylan, and Mark graduated, moved away, started families of their own.

They buried the memories of WildWood deep inside themselves, convincing each other it had all just been fear and hallucination — tricks of the dark.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and sleep wouldn’t come, Ben sometimes caught a glimpse in the mirror — not of his own reflection, but of twisted trees and rusted gates.

And when he drove alone, sometimes the truck’s radio would flicker, a familiar wild laugh slipping through the static.

The worst part wasn’t the memories.

It wasn’t even the shadows he sometimes saw at the edge of his vision.

It was the feeling that maybe — just maybe — he had never really left WildWood.

That a part of him was still wandering the woods, still running through the endless night…

Still trapped with Nadia, and Willy, and the others.

Because some places, once they get inside you, don’t ever let you go.

And some doors —

no matter how hard you close them —

will always find a way to open again.

Wildwood waits for those who dare to return.

…….

The years had softened the edges of their shared terror, but the shadows never truly disappeared. They lingered, quietly at first, like the chill of a winter morning that clings to your bones even after the sun has risen. Ben tried to dismiss it. Life had moved on. There was no reason to think about WildWood, no reason to think about what happened — about the things they saw, the things they did.

But every now and then, the scent of pine would catch him off guard, a whisper of something too familiar, and his heart would race like it did back then. He’d push it aside, pretend it was just another fleeting thought. The past had its way of fading, right? Or so he tried to believe.

Dylan had moved to the city. Mark had a house by the lake, a quiet life, far from the woods. They spoke occasionally, but the conversations always danced around that one summer, like an unspoken pact to never revisit it.

It wasn’t until one fall evening, when Ben returned to his hometown for the first time in years, that he felt it again. That strange pull. Like WildWood was waiting for him, patient, unyielding.

The air was different now. He could sense it before he even stepped out of his truck, as if the ground itself was holding its breath. The woods were still there — the same dark expanse of twisted trees and crooked paths. But now, they seemed to be watching him, just beyond the town limits, daring him to remember.

He thought of calling Dylan. Of asking if maybe they should go back, face it together like they once did, like they should have all those years ago. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he found himself driving, following the road that wound toward the place they promised never to return. His hands gripped the wheel, his heart pounding in his chest. It was just a quick look, just to prove it was all in his mind. He was older now, stronger. He could handle it.

But as he reached the old gate — the rusted iron, the overgrown vines — the world shifted. A flash of memory, a glimpse of the past, tore through him.

And then, there it was.

The laughter. Wild, twisted, familiar.

Nadia.

Willy.

The others.

They were waiting.

And once again, the door to WildWood creaked open.