The Browns were the definition of a perfect, happy family, living in the warm glow of their bustling London life. The head of the family, Noah Brown was a successful architect, and his wife, Ava, was a devoted writer: they were the epitome of a loving couple. And their children—Liam, 14, a dreamer with a great passion for photography; Thomas, 10, mischievous yet brave; and little Rosie, only six, the life of the house with curls of golden hair three filled the home with the sound of innocence and wonder. They spent their weekends on picnics at Hyde Park and evenings playing board games and storytelling under a blanket of fairy lights. In short, life was happy and comfortable.
But Noah craved adventure, for the idea of comfort didn’t quite sit right with him. He had a desire to break from the monotonous predictability of urban London. So, one evening, while his whole family was gathered around the warm fireplace, he proposed a memorable escapade: a trip to Bolivia’s North Yungas Road, also known as the “Death Road,” infamously. There, lush rainforest scenery promised breathtaking views and exhilarating exploration. However, Ava hesitated as her intuition hinted something was wrong, but the children’s excitement swept away any lingering doubts. Hence, bags were packed, and soon, the Browns found themselves on a flight across the Atlantic.
The place they were staying at in Bolivia was pretty close to the North Yungas Road. It was a rustic wooden cabin nestled within the wild embrace of the Amazonian cloud forest where mist curled around the dwelling and rain constantly drummed on the roof – nothing like what they had left back in London. Initially, the Browns were enchanted by the cabin’s charm and the surrounding jungle’s life. Liam often ventured outside with his camera, trying to capture the perfect glimpses of rare insects and colourful birds; on the other hand, Thomas and Rosie chased each other through the ferns, laughing their hearts out. Everyone was having a good time.
But the enchantment soon turned to dread – beginning with little things like voices one could mistake for the rustle of leaves. One day, while Ava was working at her desk, she could have sworn she heard someone call her name in a hissing way. She dismissed it, convincing herself it was her imagination. Yet, that night, Rosie awoke screaming and trembling with fear. “Mommy,” she cried, “there’s a lady in my room, and she watches me when I sleep.” Ava comforted her, but the shiver down her spine stuck with her for the remainder of the night.
The unease just worsened.
One evening, Liam returned pale-faced from a photography excursion. He had snapped a picture of what he swore was a silhouette of a woman with abnormally twisted limbs and eyes darker than anything he had seen. But when he developed the image, the figure was gone, a desolate path and empty space in her place. Noah tried to laugh off his son’s fears, but his own composure faltered when doors began slamming shut on windless nights and shadows moved in ways that defied the laws of physics. The cabin had become a labyrinth of dread – terror growing with every passing day.
Then it was Ava’s turn. One night, Noah awoke to the sound of sobbing, which he followed to the kitchen, a flashlight in his shaking hands; there, in the kitchen, he found Ava, staring wide-eyed and pale-faced at the dark window.
“She’s out there,” her voice crackled.
The window was blank initially, but then, a ghostly white face with tangled grey hair appeared, pressing against the glass so hard they thought it would break. Noah lost his balance and fell down, and just then, the face vanished, leaving only his wife’s horrified screams echoing through the cabin.
Thus, paranormal phenomena seized the Browns like a storm. The once cheerful chatterbox of a girl, Rosie grew silent, always busy drawing pictures of the same woman—crimson eyes and a gaping mouth.
“She says she’s hungry,” Rosie murmured one day.
Meanwhile, Thomas, who was once the bravest of the siblings, started hiding under the bed, mumbling prayers, for his toys would move on their own, at times fighting and breaking apart. One afternoon, he was yanked into a closet by an invisible force, and it was quite some time after Noah found him semi-conscious, dried tears on his face.
The witch revealed herself one storm-lashed night. The cabin shuddered, windows rattling.
Liam was the first to die.
He was in his room, staring at the photographs he had taken when suddenly, he felt a weight on his chest. Then the whispers grew into a loud, unbearable roar: “Leave,” it ordered, but he couldn’t move. Instead, he turned and saw the witch right by his side and her claw-like hands clutching his heart. The room grew dark as Liam’s mouth opened in a silent scream. With his eyes rolled back, his body collapsed – heart stilled by sheer terror.
Just moments later, Ava found him. Her scream and wails echoed in the neighboring jungle. Somehow, she made her way towards her son’s lifeless body and held it tight when she saw little Rosie standing by the fireplace. The fire was unusually blue in colour, and the witch was looming behind the child, whispering what sounded like lullabies, sweet yet poisonous. Ava rushed forward, but an invisible force threw her back. And then the witch’s grip tightened around Ava’s heart. Her last sight was Rosie’s vacant eyes as darkness claimed her.
Thomas fled to his parents’ room, sobbing, and Noah grabbed his son, trying to shield him from the evil that had been unleashed and had consumed his family. But who was to escape the wrath, for the witch was relentless. With a gush of wind, the door burst open, and Noah felt his limbs freeze. The witch floated forward and reached Thomas with her skeletal hands. The young boy gasped, his heart racing so fast it felt like his chest would burst, and with overwhelming terror, his body collapsed with a final, choked cry. His heart gave out.
Noah was shattered by grief; he didn’t know what to think or do, so he turned to face the entity that had taken everything from him.
“Why?” he screamed as loud as his lungs could bear. Tears streamed down his face. But the witch did not answer. She only grinned wider, relishing his pain.
It was his turn. He clutched his chest as his heart stuttered, his breaths came shallow, and he crumpled to his knees. The witch whispered one last word, her cruel lullaby, and Noah’s heart gave its final, broken beat.
As for Rosie, she survived but as a fragile doll in the clutches of darkness. The witch took her in, stroked her hair in the silent house where the wind passed, mourning the demise of the little girl’s once-happy family. The jungle had swallowed the screams of the past days; the North Yungas Road bore witness to yet another family torn apart by the ancient, vengeful spirit that haunted the cursed land.
That was it for the Browns. Their journey had ended, but the whispers lingered, waiting patiently for the next unfortunate souls who dared to tread where the witch’s hunger lay eternal.
