Table of Untold Tales
Table of Untold Tales
In the heart of the Olympic Peninsula, there lies a trail that many locals whisper about but few dare to explore once the October mist begins to creep in. Deep in the old-growth forest, far from any main path, stands a forgotten picnic table, reclaimed by nature and swallowed by moss and vines.
The table sits in an unnatural silence. Birds don’t sing here, and the wind never seems to move the trees, even on the gustiest of days. Hikers who stumble upon it often feel an eerie stillness wash over them, as though the very forest is watching and waiting. They say if you listen closely enough, you can hear faint voices murmuring in the background—just out of reach, just at the edge of perception.
Legends tell of a family who used to frequent the area decades ago. They would gather at this very spot, unaware of the darkness that crept through the forest. One cold, damp October evening, as they sat down for what would be their last meal together, the fog rolled in thicker than usual. When it lifted the next morning, the family was gone—vanished without a trace, leaving nothing but the moss-covered table behind.
No search party ever found them. But some say, on misty October nights, the table grows more vibrant, the moss looking fresher, the air heavier with whispers. It’s as though the forest is replaying a scene from long ago. A warning, perhaps, or a beckoning to join the lost.
Those brave enough to sit at the table after dusk claim to see shadowy figures moving between the trees. Some hear a child’s laughter, others the faint clinking of silverware on plates, but no one stays long enough to see what happens if they remain seated when the fog fully sets in.
The table waits, quietly, for those foolish or curious enough to stop by. But be warned—once you sit, you might find it impossible to leave. The forest keeps what it claims, and on an October night, the picnic table is always hungry for new company.
I came across this mossy old picnic table during a hike on the Olympic Peninsula, and it immediately sparked my imagination. That’s how I came up with this fictional story about a family who vanished there on a foggy October night. In the story, people claim to hear whispers, see shadows, and feel like the table is watching them. It’s completely made up, but it’s fun to think about how a simple, overgrown table could hold such a chilling mystery!
