October 1, 2018


Ruthie Bell sat on the edge of her twin bed, scrolling through the glowing screen of her phone, her thumb hesitating over a message from a username she’d come to see as divine: ShepherdSilas. The profile photo was simple—a white cross over a field of sunflowers. His words always came late at night, always with scripture, always with purpose.


“When the world burns, only those in the Garden will remain. You have been chosen, Ruthie.”


The message had arrived an hour ago. She hadn’t responded. Not yet.


She glanced at the crack in her bedroom ceiling, the one that looked like a crooked branch, and imagined it opening, reaching down to pull her somewhere better. Somewhere quiet.


Outside her door, her mom was yelling into the phone again. Bills, work, more bills. Her little brother was crying. Another argument. Another storm. Ruthie felt like she was living inside a world that never stopped breaking apart.


She turned back to her screen and typed.


“Where is the Garden?”


The reply came seconds later.


“Where you’ll finally be whole.”


Ruthie stood, walking to the window. The moon hung low over Siloam Springs, painting the streets in soft blue. She thought about school—how she no longer fit anywhere. She thought about the church she used to love, before it grew cold and judgmental. About the counselor who scribbled on notepads but never listened.


The Garden promised something more. Peace. Family. God.


Her cousin Lila, half-asleep on the other twin bed, stirred and grumbled, “You still up?”


Ruthie hesitated, then turned. “Yeah. Just thinking.”


“You okay?”


She almost said yes.


Instead, she said, “I think I found something. Somewhere better.”


Lila sat up slightly, rubbing her eyes. “What do you mean?”


“They’re called the Garden. They say the world’s gonna end soon. But they can help. They’re believers.”


Lila frowned. “Online people?”


“They’re not just online. They have a place. A real place. Out by the woods.”


“You’re not going out there, right?”


Ruthie smiled faintly, as if trying to convince herself. “They’re people of God, Lila. They understand. They know what it’s like to be broken.”


Lila reached for her, concern rising. “Please don’t go meeting strangers in the woods. That’s—like—literally how horror movies start.”


Ruthie’s eyes welled with tears she didn’t let fall. “This world doesn’t want me. Maybe they do.”


“Ruthie—”


But she was already turning away.


October 3, 2018


By the time Lila told Ruthie’s mom, it was too late.


The police traced Ruthie’s last phone ping to the edge of the Ozark National Forest. Her social media was wiped clean. No goodbyes. No clues.


Her room was left neat, bed made, a single daisy in a mason jar on the windowsill.


Inside her journal was one final line:


“They promised me peace. I want to believe them.”


And in the darkness of the forest, where GPS signals faltered and prayers echoed off trees, the Garden waited.