I Think My Friends Summoned Something in the forest now she's haunting me...

It started as a joke.

Just four of us, messing around in the woods near Jirisan last fall. We were bored, trying to creep each other out. One of those late-night dares — “Let’s do a Korean urban legend ritual!” kind of thing. Nothing serious.

We found this old one online. Something about a spirit named Soonja — a girl who died during World War II, deep in the forest, asking strangers for directions to get home. If you answer her, you disappear. Classic ghost story, right?

So we followed the "ritual."

We gathered sticks in the shape of an eye.

Lit candles.

And... we found a dead crow. Just lying near the trail. Someone (probably Hyun) thought it’d be extra creepy to put it in the center. Apparently, you need a crow for the ritual. “That’s what she ate before she died,” he said, laughing.

I didn’t like it. The woods felt... wrong. But we did it anyway.

We lit the candles. Sat in the dark. Joked about summoning her.

At first, nothing happened.

Then the wind died. Completely. The forest went silent — like the animals just vanished.

Then we heard shuffling. Not footsteps. Not branches. Something... dragging.

And then we saw her.

A girl. Pale, thin, long wet hair stuck to her face. Her hanbok was torn and filthy, stained with dirt and—I'm pretty sure—dried blood. Her hands were trembling, blackened like they'd been buried. Feathers clung to her arms.

She whispered, almost like she was begging:

“Please… can you tell me which way home is?”

None of us spoke. We didn’t even breathe.

Then she started crying. Soft, then louder. Choking, desperate sobs.

Hyun ran.

The forest... changed. It twisted. We couldn’t find the path. The candles snuffed out one by one.

And Hyun — he answered her. I don’t remember what he said. Something like “That way” or “Go left.” I was too scared to move.

We never saw him again.

---

That was three weeks ago. The police searched. No body. No phone. Just black feathers left near our tent.

And now—every night—I hear crying outside my apartment window. Even when I’m on the 8th floor.

Sometimes, I wake up to feathers in my living room. Doors locked. Windows shut. Feathers.

Last night, I woke up at 3:14 a.m. There was a wet handprint on the glass. Small. Like a teenager’s.

I think she’s still looking. I think she doesn’t know she died.

She just wants to go home.

Please. If you ever find yourself in the woods near Jirisan... Don’t answer her.

Just don’t.