Wilderness, p.1
Wilderness, page 1
Copyright © 2025 by Hunter Swanson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly articles.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Youness Elh
Edited by Angela Brown
First Edition
ISBN: 979-8-9999797-1-1
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
For the misunderstood youth.
You are not alone. Your pain is seen, and your story matters.
In loving memory of my father,
a teacher who lit the way for so many.
You inspired greatness in your students—and in me.
Thank you for helping me become the man I am today.
Message from the Author
This is a horror novel for young adults. It explores mental health struggles, loss, and fear—both imagined and real. If you need to take breaks while reading, please do so. Take care of yourself first.
Chapter 1
It’s been ten years, five months, and nineteen days since Mr. Shadow killed my dad, and here I am on a worn beige sofa staring at a glass-blown pumpkin placed between Dr. Samantha Hane’s desktop and engraved nameplate. It’s the only decorative piece in her entire office. She doesn’t even have a motivational poster of a majestic lion or scenic mountain range with a clichéd quote at the bottom. What’s so important about the pumpkin? Did she make it? Did a family member? A patient? I’ve tried asking the good psychiatrist about it, but the answer is always the same: “We are not here about me. This time is for you.”
My attention wanders to the framed academic honors that adorn the wall behind Dr. Hane’s desk, showcasing her prestigious résumé and highlighting why my mom selected her. I know to the right is a window overlooking Cedar Hills Forest, but I don’t care much for the view. Unfortunately there’s no clock to stare at since most teens use it as a challenge to stay quiet the whole session. To the left of my couch is a filled bookshelf with potted plants as bookends. I don’t dare turn that way. Instead I stare at the wooden coffee table between Dr. Hane and me, debating if I should distract myself with one of the mandala coloring books stacked in the center.
“I know this is hard, Cody, but you’re doing great.”
I glance up and catch her kind hazel eyes urging me to continue. Dr. Hane brushes her shoulder-length auburn hair behind one ear and adjusts her cat-eye glasses. Out of all the psychiatrists I’ve had, she’s the most stylish in her gray sleeveless overcoat and a white blouse tucked into wine-red pants cuffed above tan ankle-high boots. Although she’s around my mom’s age, she doesn’t dress like it. Maybe she could give Mom some pointers for her job interview tomorrow.
Dr. Hane leans forward in her soft lavender accent chair with pen and pad in hand. “Let’s continue. You arrived at the site. Your parents were setting up camp.”
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and dive back into the ten-year-old memory.
I was sitting in a green mesh folding chair with my sketchbook and colored pencils, trying to draw a shimmering translucent turtle-shelled squirrel preening its fluffy tail on a Douglas fir branch above my head. The small light spirit looked like a living iridescent bubble flowing with all the colors of the rainbow. I sketched the creature as fast as my little fingers could go, but the colored pencils Mom had packed weren’t enough. The hardest part was getting the squirrel’s shell just right because the pattern kept shifting.
Dr. Hane’s voice brings me back to her office. “What were you doing?”
“Drawing a squirrel.” It’s best to leave out certain details, such as the shell and the fact the squirrel was a glittering light spirit. I don’t even bother telling the good doctor about all the light spirits I saw that day. There was a flock of raccoons flying in formation on either side of the car on the way to the campsite. A small family of colorful deer with long peacock tails stood next to our parking spot when we arrived. A lizard with floppy ears was sunbathing on a rock behind the firepit before it scampered off as Mom almost dropped the wood on top of it. A slinky fox with three extra tails and budding antlers even came from the bushes and nuzzled against my leg before bounding back into the woods. Those are the kinda details I’ve learned to omit.
“Anything special about the squirrel?” Dr. Hane has her pen at the ready.
“Nope.” I’ve seen enough shrinks to know when they’re fishing. Plus she has my file. More like a novella at this point. Every psychologist, psychiatrist, counselor, nurse, doctor, judge, even my own mother doesn't want to hear the truth. They want “normal.” There’s no point in bringing up the spirits I see. No one believes me. At best I end up sitting on a beige sofa talking to another bespectacled professional who wants to get to know the real me . Instead I leave out any supernatural details and delve back into the memory.
Mom waddled over with her hands on her lower back to support her pregnant belly. When she passed under the branch, the turtle squirrel got spooked and disappeared up the tree.
“You scared it away,” I grumbled.
Mom brushed her long, wavy dark hair to the side and glanced up before turning back with a fake sad face. She still pretended to see them. “I’m sorry. What are you working on?”
“It’s not done.” I tried to hide my drawing, but she took it anyway.
“Oh, it’s beautiful. Are you sure you’re only seven? Honestly you get the talent from your father. I have nowhere near the imagination you two do.”
I just huffed and took my sketchbook back. There was no point trying to convince her that what I saw was real. She never believed me and never will. At least Dad did.
There was a hard crunch and a string of slurs. Dad threw the hammer down and sucked on his thumb, kicking the last spike to the tent.
Mom gave him a death glare. “Really, Dave?”
“Sorry.” Dad shook the large tent. It stayed standing. Victorious, he brushed his hands off on his dirty jeans and joined us. “Your castle awaits, Queen Linda. A spacious one-bedroom with an open-concept living room, kitchen, and bathroom. Perfect for a soon-to-be family of five and this spare tire.” He gave his stomach a little pat.
Mom smirked and shook her head. “I think your dad bod’s cute.”
He wrapped a supportive arm around Mom’s waist and gave her a kiss.
“Seriously?” I pretended to gag a little.
“You should see Cody’s newest creation,” Mom said as Dad helped her to the tent. “What you two can come up with—”
“I’m not making it up!” Fed up with her, I threw the pencils into the dirt and stormed off.
Dr. Hane taps the end of her pen against the notepad, bringing me back to the couch. “What happened after your mom saw your drawing?”
“She took it to show my dad. I got pissed and left.”
“What about the drawing or her showing it to your father made you so upset?”
Oh, Dr. Hane is good. Another line cast into the water, but I’m not biting. Been hooked too many times to fall for that again. I wish I could say I was upset because I wasn’t a liar. Because I didn’t make it up. Because what I see is real. But Mom never believed me, no matter how many times I tried. Just because she can’t see light spirits doesn’t mean they aren’t real.
But if I have any hope of getting out of this constant cycle of assessments and medication, I need to give them what they want: a normal teenager. “I guess I felt she was making fun of me.”
More quick notes. “Very good, Cody. Please continue.”
“Dad chased after me to talk,” I say as I lean back, close my eyes, and dive back into that godforsaken forest.
Dad chugged after me. “I got him. Little man and I need to have a man-to-man talk.”
“Just stay close,” Mom warned. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
When he caught up to me, he wrapped me in his arms, attacking my ticklish spots. “Don’t worry. If anything comes for us, I’ll sacrifice Cody. It’ll take at least five minutes to eat him up.”
“Dad, stop!” I struggled. “I can’t…breathe!” He relented and put me down. I paid him back with a playful punch to the thigh.
“Let’s have a chat before it gets too dark.” Together we headed into the woods.
We trekked until we reached a cliff that overlooked Olympic National Park. An ocean of trees stretched as far as I could see. The setting sun colored the sky a vibrant array of oranges and purples. A group of gliding otters played on the wind, glittering like crystals. A few took notice of us and drifted in our direction. Their chirps and squeaks were like clattering driftwood and seashell wind chimes.
“There’s something you don’t see in the city.” Taking a seat in the grass, Dad patted the earth next to him. I joined and he pulled me close. “Listen, buddy, don’t be so hard on your mom. She’s not like you and me. We see the world a little differently than everyone else.”
“Why don’t you tell her you see and hear them too?”
Dad took a big breath before answering. “I used to, but…it made her worry, so I stopped. She has a hard time believing things she can’t see.”
; “Why can’t she?”
“Not sure. My guess is it's genetic. Like how you and I have the same bright-blue eyes. Maybe they help us see the things we do.” Mom called our eyes “electric blue.” No one else had such intense bright color like us. “But sometimes people have a hard time with things that are different from them. But being different isn’t a bad thing. It makes you special. I know what it’s like to feel alone with this. You know you can always talk to me.”
The carefree otters played in the gentle breeze and drifted toward us. A few curious heads glanced in our direction, intrigued by the two visitors watching them dance in the sky. I got the distinct impression they were looking at me.
Dad rested a hand on my shoulder. “Did I ever tell you when your mother was pregnant with you, spirits started following her everywhere? She had no idea of course, but I could see them. Through the grocery store. When she left for work. Walks by the beach were my personal favorite. I didn’t realize they were actually following you until you were born. It’s as if spirits are drawn to you, Cody. It’s incredible. You are very special. Never forget that.”
The spirit otters bobbed and weaved through the air, their bodies moving with an elegant grace while their heads stayed locked on me. Only a few yards away, the family came to a sudden halt. Synchronized and on high alert, they darted their heads up to face the woods behind us like prey catching wind of a predator.
The hair on my arms stood on end, and the smell of sulfur washed over me, stinging my eyes and throat. I was suddenly submerged in the deep end of a frozen swimming pool.
With a jolt, the flock darted off in all different directions.
Dad put a protective arm around me. I felt it in his grip—he was spooked too. “Come on. Let’s get back to Mom before—”
He stopped, gaze fixed forward. He was confused, but there was something else too. Something I’d never seen. Eyes wide and unblinking. Jaw clenched. Short staggered breaths. Dad was scared.
I strained to follow his gaze to the woods, but I couldn’t make out anything through the long shadows. Another chill clicked down my spine. Nothing was there. All the animals, even the light spirits, were gone. The woods were dead silent.
That’s when I saw him. A towering figure, darker than the shadows, slinked between the trees toward us. A person made of black mist. Another wave of burning odor washed over me. This shadow man was the source of the burning odor.
“Dad…?” I yanked on his arm, but he didn’t respond. “Dad!”
He shook his head, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. He took me by the hand and squeezed hard. “Don’t let go. You hear me? Don’t let go.”
I squeezed back with all my strength.
“Get ready to run,” he whispered. I felt every muscle in his body tense, ready to spring into action. We stared at the tall shadow man creeping closer and closer.
I could see him, but at the same time I couldn’t make out any details. He was a silhouette filled with dark emptiness. A starving void dragging us in, desperate to swallow us whole. A cold nothingness in the form of a person. The metallic grating of a rusted fork on a plate echoed in my head. I don’t know how I knew, but it was coming from the shadow man. It sounded like he was laughing.
“Run!” Dad took off to the left, nearly pulling my arm from its socket. We raced through the woods. The laughter scratched at my eardrums. Branches and underbrush scraped my face and tore at my clothes trying to hold me back. The light of the setting sun struggled to reach us through the thickening trees, casting longer and darker shadows. I felt the shadow man’s death rattle breathing just behind my ears, but I didn't dare turn around. We were running so fast that one slip, one errant step, and the looming darkness would have us.
My arm jerked back and Dad’s hand ripped out of mine. Holding on for dear life, I didn’t notice Dad had come to a complete stop. My feet flew out from under me, and I slammed hard into the dirt. Dad just stood there.
No, not standing. Hanging. Held aloft by a gaunt murky hand wrapped tight around his neck, the shadow man dangled Dad a few feet off the ground. He kicked and clawed at the vise grip, but it was no use.
I just stood there, frozen in absolute terror.
Dad locked eyes with me and choked out three words: “Run, Cody. Run!”
Then his head snapped to the side with a deep crunch. His hands fell limp. His legs stopped moving. The shadow man dropped Dad, and he fell to the ground in a heap. The laughter came back, louder and sharper than before.
Finally I ran. “Mom!” I cried with what little air I had left in my lungs. “ Mom !” Tears streamed down my face. I ran as hard as I could through the blur of trees, branches, and bushes.
An arm wrapped around me and lifted me off the ground. I kicked and screamed, but it was useless. My whole body felt like jelly. I thought the shadow man had caught me.
“Cody!” Mom yelled. “Cody, what’s wrong?”
I opened my eyes and saw my mom. I wrapped my arms around her, and a new wave of tears rushed down my cheeks. I could barely breathe. “Dad...” is all I got out.
She tried to hide the panic. “Cody, where’s your father?”
I could only stare back to the woods, to the darkness, to where the shadow man waited.
“Stay here,” she said as she got to her feet.
“ No ! You can’t. The shadow man—”
She took me by the hand. “I have to find your father. If something’s happened…”
I tried to hold her, but I had no strength left. She pulled away and headed into the woods. I stood there, trying to catch my breath, watching every dark corner of the forest. Seconds felt like forever. There was no sign of my mom. No sign of my dad. Nothing but me and the shadows.
The silence was shattered by a heartbreaking scream.
I tried to get to my feet, but another chill from behind knocked me to the ground. I turned to see the shadow man staring at me. Slow, deliberate, and as cold as the air around him, he waved goodbye. I couldn’t tell, but I swear he was smiling. Then he slinked behind a tree and disappeared into the darkness.
All that was left was the rustling of the trees and the cries of my mom in the distance.
I blink away the memory and wipe the tear from the corner of my eye before it can fall. Once again on the couch in Dr. Hane’s office, I make a conscious effort to stop my right leg from shaking. “We didn’t know the woods got so dark so fast. We tried to hurry back, but we couldn’t see where we were going. He must’ve tripped on a root or a rock or something and fell. When I found him…I ran to my mom.”
Dr. Hane puts her pen down and takes off her glasses, looking me deep in the eyes, trying to read my every microexpression. “Is that what you believe? It was an accident? It wasn’t your fault?”
“It wasn’t my fault.” This is the first true answer I’ve given her. My father’s death wasn’t my fault. It was Mr. Shadow’s. I know because ever since that night, the dark spirit has never left my side.
I glance to my left, past the shelves with books and potted plants to the corner of the room. The only spot in the entire office with a hint of shadow. Standing there is the reason my father was dead. The black void that has haunted me for the last decade. A living nightmare. With his head crooked at an unnatural angle to fit just below the nine-foot ceiling, Mr. Shadow lifts a hollow hand and waves.
Chapter 2
Ten years, five months, and twenty-one days.
Frozen fingers claw at the base of my skull and scratch the back of my corneas as I stare at the red neon lights of my digital clock. 6:32 a.m. It’s not the kind of cold you can hide from with a few extra blankets or a space heater. It’s the kind that seeps into your soul and sits there, making all your muscles hurt. There’s no open window or air conditioning to blame for the chill. I know it’s coming from the closet. The closet that’s open just a crack. The closet I made sure to close and lock last night before bed.
It’s pitch-black, but I know he’s in there staring back.
The twins shuffle in their bunk bed on the other side of the room. On top, Haylee lets out a soft groan. Below, Kaylee pulls the blankets closer. I can take the nightmares—I’m used to them—but it’s not fair that they have to suffer too. They should be dreaming about riding horses and singing songs and play dates, not what he brings.
