While wandering through the woods of Maine with his wife Eve and their eight-year-old son Robin, Travis stumbled upon something that would shatter everything he had believed about his past. What started as a peaceful afternoon of mushroom-picking quickly turned into a terrifying discovery when their dog, Brandy, darted off, barking wildly. Following the commotion, Travis found himself in an overgrown cemetery, hidden deep in the forest. The headstones were old and weathered—some dating back to the 1800s—but one in particular stopped him in his tracks. There, on a cracked, moss-covered marker, was a childhood photo of himself. The boy in the picture wore an unfamiliar yellow shirt, but the face—and the birthdate etched below—was unmistakable: January 29, 1984. His birthday.
Shocked, Travis called for Eve, who quickly urged him to leave. She was visibly shaken by the eerie surroundings—bones, strange pottery, even voodoo dolls—and insisted they take Robin and go. Travis agreed, but the image of his younger self on that headstone continued to haunt him. Back home, he tried to convince himself it was just a coincidence, maybe a doppelgänger, but deep down, something told him it meant more. He had always wondered about his origins. Abandoned as a child on the steps of a Texas cathedral, Travis had grown up in foster care with only a blood-stained note bearing his name and birthdate. He had never known who his parents were, only that someone had tried to protect him.
Determined to uncover the truth, Travis began asking around town. Most locals avoided the topic, but one name kept coming up: Lois Woods, the oldest resident in the area. When Travis and Eve visited her, Lois confirmed the town’s dark past. A cult had once lived deep in those woods, known for bizarre rituals and disturbing beliefs. Decades ago, the police raided the group after reports of child sacrifices. Lois warned them to keep Robin far away from the forest and urged Travis to speak with one more person—Teddy Sutton, the reclusive son of the officer who had led the infamous raid.
The couple found Teddy living in a rundown house on the outskirts of town. At first, he refused to speak to them, but when Travis showed him the photo from the headstone, something in Teddy shifted. He stared at the image for a long time before quietly inviting them inside. There, Teddy listened as Travis recounted a recurring dream that had haunted him since childhood—a woman running through the woods with a little boy in her arms. When Travis mentioned being left at a church in Texas, Teddy broke down. That dream wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory.
Teddy revealed the horrifying truth, piece by piece. His younger brother Shawn had fallen in love with a woman named Nedaara—the daughter of the cult’s leader. They had married in secret and had twin boys. When they attempted to flee the cult with their children, they were caught and murdered. One of the twins was killed on the spot. The other, unconscious and wrapped in blood-stained blankets, was smuggled away by a remorseful cult member and handed off to a passing truck driver with a note asking for help. That boy was Travis.
The photo on the headstone marked the grave of Travis’s twin brother—the one who hadn’t survived. The boy in the image wasn’t a stranger; he was family. And the cult had erased any trace of their existence until now. Teddy showed Travis old photos of Shawn, and for the first time in his life, Travis saw the face of his father. Overwhelmed, he wept in his uncle’s arms. But even as the pieces of his past began to come together, Eve urged caution. She reminded him that stories fade and memories blur, and they needed proof.
Weeks later, a DNA test confirmed it: Teddy Sutton was indeed his uncle. The past that had haunted Travis for decades was finally revealed—violent, tragic, but real. He now understood why he had been abandoned, the sacrifice that had saved his life, and the family he had never thought he’d find. It was a truth buried in the woods, beneath a broken headstone, waiting to be uncovered.
Travis had moved to Maine for his health, but fate had brought him home. And though the answers were painful, they gave him what he had always longed for: a connection to who he was, and to the people who had loved him enough to let him go.