Lost In The Ozarks

Genre: Fiction, Suspense

© 2025 Glen Munro. "Lost In The Ozarks." Published by The Media Glen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author or publisher.

---

The sun, a malevolent eye in the sky, beat down upon the city, its harsh light glinting off the steel and glass canyons. The Martins, Tom and Laura, were escaping the urban jungle, venturing into the untamed heart of the Ozarks. Their journey was a desperate gamble, a flight from the demons that haunted their past.

They drove, leaving behind the comforting hum of civilization for the eerie silence of the mountain roads. The trees, gnarled and ancient, pressed in on either side, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch them into the darkness. Laura shivered, pulling her denim jacket tighter around her. Tom, his jaw clenched, kept his eyes fixed on the winding road ahead.

The GPS signal flickered, a faint beacon in the growing gloom. Tom felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his gut. This place, with its brooding silence and oppressive shadows, held a menace he couldn't quite define. It was as if the very air was thick with the weight of secrets, of unseen eyes watching their every move.

They pressed on, the car's headlights cutting a swathe through the darkness. The forest seemed to close in around them, a living entity that resented their intrusion. Laura's breath hitched in her throat. She could feel the wildness of the place seeping into her, a primal fear that stirred something deep within her soul.

Tom gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He knew they were in too deep, but turning back was no longer an option. They were committed to this path, this descent into the heart of darkness. And as they drove deeper into the Ozarks, they knew there was no turning back. The wilderness had them in its grip, and it would not let them go easily.

The sun, a blood-orange orb sinking into a sea of trees, marked the descent of night and the rise of their fear. Memories of past camping trips, once filled with laughter and the smell of woodsmoke, now mocked them with their innocence. The darkness that crept in was different, heavier, laced with a malevolence that chilled them to the bone.

"We need to stop," Tom's voice was tight, his eyes straining to pierce the gloom that swallowed the road ahead. Laura, her heart a trapped bird fluttering in her chest, could only nod. The clearing they found was little more than a widening of the dirt track, barely enough space to pull their vehicle off the path. Setting up the tent was a frantic scramble, their movements jerky and hurried.

Even within the flimsy nylon walls of their tent, they felt exposed, vulnerable. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, was a whispered threat. The nearby river, once a source of tranquil beauty, now seemed to murmur with unseen voices, weaving tales of dread and despair. Sleep was a distant dream, replaced by a gnawing anxiety that clawed at their sanity.

Dawn brought a fragile sense of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by a growing unease. Driven by a morbid curiosity, they ventured deeper into the woods. Strange symbols carved into the bark of ancient trees, like warnings from a forgotten age, marked their path. The air crackled with a tension that made their skin prickle.

Then the storm hit. The sky turned an angry bruise-purple, unleashing a torrent of rain that lashed at them with furious intensity. They huddled under a massive oak, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal arms. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the forest in a strobe-like flash that revealed grotesque shapes lurking in the shadows. Each thunderclap echoed through the hills, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very earth.