The Burrow

The Thompsons had planned their Easter weekend months in advance. A family camping trip seemed like the perfect escape from the monotony of suburbia, a chance to bond over s’mores and nature hikes. The secluded Maplewood Campground, nestled deep in the woods, promised tranquility and picturesque views. They had no idea what awaited them beneath the ground.

The family arrived Saturday morning, excited and full of energy. Twelve-year-old Hannah and her younger brother Max darted off to explore the area, baskets in hand to collect flowers and leaves for a makeshift Easter centerpiece. Their parents, Karen and David, set up the tents, laughing as they struggled with stubborn poles and tangled ropes.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the family gathered around a crackling fire. Max, always the curious one, asked about the strange holes he’d found scattered near the campsite. “They’re big,” he said, holding his hands apart to show the size. “Like, way bigger than rabbit holes.”

David shrugged it off. “Probably just some old burrows. Maybe a fox or something. Nothing to worry about.”

But Hannah’s face was pale. “I saw bones,” she whispered. “In one of the holes.”

Karen laughed nervously, brushing it off as her daughter’s overactive imagination. “It’s Easter weekend, sweetie. No spooky stories, okay?”

That night, the forest was eerily silent. No chirping crickets, no rustling leaves—just an oppressive stillness that seemed to press down on the campsite. Karen woke around midnight to the sound of something heavy dragging across the ground. She sat up, heart pounding, straining to hear. The noise stopped.

In the morning, they found the remains of their cooler shredded and strewn about the clearing. David frowned, muttering about raccoons, but Hannah pointed out strange tracks in the dirt. They were massive, clawed, and unlike anything they’d ever seen. Karen’s unease grew, but David insisted they stay. “We’ve come all this way. It’s just an animal.”

The kids spent the day playing near the edge of the woods, but as the afternoon wore on, Hannah came running back to camp. “Max is gone!” she screamed.

Panic erupted. The family searched frantically, their voices echoing through the trees. Finally, they found Max’s basket lying near one of the massive holes he’d mentioned. A faint whimpering sound rose from the darkness below.

“Max?” Karen called, her voice trembling. She leaned closer to the hole, but before she could react, something lunged at her from the shadows. David yanked her back just in time as a pair of bloodstained, jagged teeth snapped shut inches from her face.

The thing was enormous. It emerged slowly, its matted fur glistening with gore, its eyes gleaming red in the dim light. It was a rabbit, but impossibly large—its body nearly the size of a grizzly, with powerful limbs ending in razor-sharp claws. Thick, black saliva dripped from its gaping maw, and its ears twitched at every sound.

Karen screamed as it lunged again, dragging itself fully out of the burrow. Behind it, the family saw a glimpse of something far worse: piles of bones, tattered clothing, and hollowed-out Easter baskets scattered in the warren below.

David grabbed a burning log from the campfire and swung it at the creature, driving it back momentarily. “Run!” he yelled.

The family fled into the forest, the monstrous rabbit close behind. Its thundering footsteps shook the ground, and its guttural growls echoed through the trees.

They reached the truck just as the beast crashed into the clearing, its claws raking the side of the vehicle. David floored the gas, the tires spitting gravel as the truck sped away. The creature gave chase, but they managed to outrun it, its hulking form disappearing into the darkness behind them.

Back in town, they tried to report what had happened, but no one believed them. The authorities dismissed their story as a bear attack, and the campground was quietly closed for "maintenance."

Months later, a new family arrived at Maplewood Campground, excited for a weekend of camping and Easter fun. They didn’t notice the strange holes near their tent, nor the faint smell of decay in the air.

Deep underground, the burrow stirred. And the rabbit waited.

Thank you, everyone, for reading through or listening to my stories in your free time. I do appreciate the support! If you can, please don't feel obligated. Help support by sharing and/or subscribing to my page and social media accounts. Thank you all and stay tuned for more!