Whumptober 2024

One Way Out - Day 19

It was an unseasonably chilly autumn evening when Peter Parker and Michelle Jones—better known as MJ—found themselves deep in the woods just outside of Queens. They had taken a spontaneous detour from their usual hangout spots, driven by an inner curiosity and an eagerness for a little adventure. Despite the cold, the vibrant orange and red leaves scattered on the ground painted a picturesque scene, one that would make for a perfect Instagram post.

As they wandered down an overgrown path, the faint outline of an abandoned cabin emerged through the trees. Its wooden exterior was worn and weathered, and ivy clung to the walls like a desperate lover. "This looks creepy yet fascinating," MJ said, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. Peter, ever the cautious one, felt a shiver run down his spine, but he couldn't resist the draw of the unknown.

"This place might be a treasure trove of eerie stories," MJ added, breaking the silence with a playful smirk. She had always been the daring one—bold and unafraid to confront the mysteries of the world, which often led them into trouble. Peter smiled, his nervousness dissipating in the light of their shared excitement.

They approached the cabin, and Peter pushed the creaky door open, revealing a dusty interior dimly lit by the fading light of dusk. The walls were adorned with remnants of a forgotten past—rusty tools, broken furniture, and a fireplace filled with ash. MJ stepped inside first, her footsteps echoing in the stillness.

"Look at this place! It's like a time capsule," she exclaimed, picking up a tattered photograph from a nearby table. The image revealed a family standing proudly in front of the cabin years ago, their smiles frozen in time.

As they explored, however, Peter couldn't shake off the feeling that they were being watched. His Spider-Sense was dulled by the rich history around him, but a faint rustling outside snapped him back to reality. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, eyes wide.

MJ nodded, her expression shifting from excitement to caution. "Let's check it out," she said, her intrigue overriding any fear. Peter hesitated, but MJ was already moving toward the door.

Outside, the air felt thicker, heavier. They moved cautiously past the cabin, where the rustling grew louder, almost like a whisper beckoning them. As they reached the edge of the surrounding woods, Peter noticed something peculiar on the ground—a blood trail leading deeper into the forest.

"MJ, we should go back," Peter said, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice. His instincts were screaming at him now; something was off.

But MJ, ever the adventurous spirit, didn't back down. "This is why we came here, isn't it? To discover something new? We can't just walk away," she urged, an edge of determination in her voice.

Reluctantly, Peter followed as they trailed the crimson line through the underbrush, their hearts pounding in unison. The sun began to set, casting eerie shadows that danced between the trees. The further they went, the more palpable the tension became.

Finally, they reached a small clearing, and their breath caught in their throats. There, among the fallen leaves and the underbrush, lay a figure—injured and unconscious. It was a man, bloodied and bruised, his labored breaths barely audible.

"Peter, call for help!" MJ shouted, kneeling beside him. But before he could react, the man's eyes fluttered open, revealing wild, frantic fear. "They're coming..." he whispered hoarsely, his gaze darting around as if expecting something—or someone—to leap from the shadows.

Peter's protective instincts kicked in. "Who's coming? What happened?" he demanded, while MJ rummaged through a small backpack the man had dropped, finding a handgun and a torn-up map marked with strange symbols.

"Run..." he gasped, "They'll find you too..."