Story 1021: Totem of the Forgotten

They say the old forest near Graven Ridge devours memory.

Not all at once—but piece by piece. A name first. A face next. And then everything that made you you.

At the center of that decaying maze stood a towering totem, carved not from wood, but from bone and sorrow.

Each face etched into it was screaming.

Juno hadn’t meant to find it. Her group had fled the plague-worn city, drawn into the deep wilderness by a faint radio signal promising sanctuary.

But when the static turned to whispers and the map led nowhere, they were left with only the forest.

And it was already too late.

They saw the totem on the third day. Twisted faces of humans and beasts fused together, mouths agape as if howling into the ether. The ground around it pulsed, riddled with forgotten relics—jagged dolls, cracked lanterns, a child's ribcage carved into a flute.

Juno stepped too close. She heard her name.

Only it wasn’t hers anymore.