Pete was a 58-year-old IT worker who had lived in Papillion, Nebraska, for as long as he could remember. His days were spent behind a computer screen, fixing problems and answering emails. Still, his evenings were his favorite part of the day. That's when he could relax with his wife, Janet, and their three tiny dogs—Sadie, Lola, and Darby. The dogs were his constant companions, always at his feet or curled up in his lap.
One hot August evening, after a long day of troubleshooting server issues, Pete took the dogs for a drive. The house felt stifling, and the dogs seemed restless. Janet waved him off, smiling from the porch as he loaded Sadie, Lola, and Darby into the back of his truck. He promised her they'd be back before dark.
As Pete drove down the familiar roads, the dogs eagerly poked their noses out of the open windows. The rolling fields of corn stretched endlessly on either side, swaying gently in the evening breeze. It was peaceful out here, with only the sound of crickets and the soft rumble of the truck.
After a while, Pete noticed a narrow dirt road he had never seen before. He slowed down, curiosity tugging at him. "What do you think, guys?" he asked the dogs, glancing in the rearview mirror. Sadie barked in response, and Pete chuckled. "All right, adventure it is."
He turned down the road, the truck bouncing over the gravel. The further he drove, the more isolated it felt. The corn grew tall and thick on both sides, towering over the truck like walls. The sun began to set, casting an orange glow across the sky, but something about the road felt off. The wind had died down, and the air was too still.
The dogs, who had been excited just moments before, grew quiet. Pete glanced over his shoulder and saw Sadie, Lola, and Darby sitting motionless, their ears perked, staring out the windows. A shiver ran down his spine.
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the unease creeping over him. "It's just a quiet night," he muttered to himself. But the further he drove, the more the road seemed to twist and turn in ways he didn't recognize. The corn was pressing in closer now, and Pete could have sworn it was moving, almost swaying toward the truck.
Suddenly, Sadie let out a low growl, her tiny body tense. Pete slowed the truck to a stop, squinting through the windshield. Up ahead, standing in the middle of the road, was a figure.
Pete's heart skipped a beat. The figure was tall and thin, draped in tattered clothes that seemed to blend with the darkening sky. It stood perfectly still, facing the truck, its face obscured by shadow.
"Who the hell…?" Pete muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. The dogs whined in the back, uneasy. He rolled down the window, calling into the fading light, "Hey! You need help or something?"
The figure didn't respond. It didn't move at all.
Pete's skin prickled with a sudden wave of dread. The dogs were whimpering now, their nervous energy filling the truck. He glanced at them, trying to reassure himself. "Maybe it's just some farmer," he said, though his voice wavered. But when he looked back up, the figure was gone.
His stomach dropped. There hadn't been any sound, rustling of the corn, or footsteps—just an empty road where the figure had stood moments before.
Pete's hands shook as he put the truck into gear, ready to turn back. But as he did, the radio crackled to life. Static filled the cab; beneath it, he could hear faint whispers, like someone—or something—was trying to speak through the noise.
"Pete… come… home…"
His blood ran cold. His name, clear as day, whispered through the static.
He slammed his hand on the radio, turning it off, but the whispers grew louder. The dogs were barking now, panicked, their tiny bodies pressed against the doors as if trying to escape.
The figure appeared again, this time on the side of the road. It stood just beyond the corn, its long arms reaching the ground, fingers twitching.
Pete's heart raced. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel. "What the hell is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his chest. He floored the gas, the truck lurching forward down the narrow road.
But the road didn't end.
No matter how far he drove, it twisted and looped, the cornfields on either side growing impossibly tall. The whispers in the air grew louder, circling around him, pressing in from all sides. He could hear them clearly now—dozens of voices chanting his name.
"Pete… come… home…"
His breath came in ragged gasps. The dogs were yelping, their fear palpable, but Pete's terror was overwhelming. The figure appeared again, this time ahead of him, standing in the middle of the road again.
Pete slammed the brakes, the truck skidding to a halt just feet from the figure. It bent forward slightly, its face still hidden in shadow, but Pete could feel its eyes watching him.
The whispers grew deafening, swirling around the truck, coming from the corn, air, and everywhere.
"Come home, Pete… come home…"
Pete screamed, throwing the truck into reverse. He spun the wheel, tires screeching as he turned around and sped back down the road. The figure didn't follow, but the whispers stayed with him, echoing in his ears and in his mind.
It felt like hours before Pete finally burst out of the cornfields and back onto the main road. The night was dark now, the cornfields behind him silent and still. The whispers had stopped, but Pete's heart still pounded.
When he pulled into his driveway, he barely registered Carol standing on the porch, her face filled with concern. He sat in the truck for a long moment, his hands trembling, the dogs whimpering softly in the back.
"What happened?" Carol asked, rushing to his side. But Pete couldn't find the words.
Later that night, after the dogs had calmed and Carol had gone to bed, Pete sat in the living room, staring into the darkness. He tried to tell himself it was all just his imagination, a strange, eerie night.
But in the silence of his house, he could still hear it.
"Come home, Pete… come home…"
The End.
