Everwood, a little town had Whispering Woods, which was its forest. The inhabitants of the place didn’t dare to get close to it while whispering fearfully about strange murmurs that could be heard from its depths especially on nights when the moon was shining brightly above. There were many tales about spirits that roved amidst those ancient trees trying to capture their own into everlasting grip. However, a few would go in and then only some would retain sanity.
One autumn evening Claire became curious enough to explore the whispers. She went there with a flashlight and notepad; she wanted to document everything she found inside. The farther she walked into those woods, the colder it grew while the familiar sounds of the town disappeared into an ominous silence.
After walking for one hour, Claire heard her first ever whisper. It came slowly like a distant breeze but was distinctively articulate. She halted so as to hear what words escaped his lips “Go back” she thought she heard them say. But disregarding this warning she trudged forwards allured by her curiosity rather than deterred by fright; however these vague voices that closed in around her kept getting louder until they turned into a creepy chorus of ghosts.
The flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows among the twisted branches around Claire. She could feel her neck’s icy breath and turned round, but there was nothing to see. Her heart was pounding as she plunged deeper into the forest. Now it felt as if a cacophony of voices had replaced the whispers that went on before: some were begging for help; others cried out in pain, and one voice – louder than all the rest combined – just laughed coldly, evilly laughing.
All of a sudden, the ground shifted beneath her feet, and she plunged into a secret hole. As struggling get back on her feet, Claire realized that she was in an old cellar room whose stone walls were covered by strange glowing symbols. Her flashlight revealed a tattered diary lying on the ground. She took it up and leafed through pages filled with hurried scribbles about rituals, sacrifices and an evil entity known as The Watcher.
Claire barely responded when she heard some noise like the sound of walking in the room. She carefully swung around and gasped, now seeing a barely discernible figure standing some thirty feet away from the precipice. It had no distinguishable shape or form, but the slim figure emanated red lights for eyes. It was now a whispering, and simultaneously: “The Watcher is coming!” Claire felt her legs becoming heavy as a lead the movements of this figure getting closer and closer and although its pace was, slow, the intent was clear.
This spurring Claire to look for an exit in the cellar in what can be described as a desperate attempt. Pointing her flashlight off to the side of the pit, Brie saw an even tighter passageway. She stepped into it, the walls of the hall shutting her along with the whispers inside it. He guided her down the winding corridors and through the passages and she could sense that he was getting nearer and nearer, the oppressive darkness surrounding her.
At last Claire was out in the open area where awaiting her was reigns of green and beautiful flowers. It is night time now and the moonlight makes the surrounding look pale, she could see the black line of the forest. But before she could move, the ground opened up and the bony fingers grabbed her ankles taking her down. A loud shriek escaped her lips as she fought the bones that held her captive; it was a fight she could not win.
Which is why as Claire was pulled into the ground, with her eyes she caught one last look at The Watcher – his red eyes ablaze with hunger. These whispers turned into a chorus and then into a sickening sound; and at some point, the lights went out.
When the townspeople went out in search the following morning, they discovered Claire’s notepad at the border of the Whispering Woods. Her notes ended abruptly, with a final, hastily scribbled: ‘The Watcher is real, stay out of the forests.’ Having finally managed to avoid the temptation to go into the Whispering Woods the townspeople could only shiver at the confirmation of the urban legend by another unfortunate soul. And in woods of the country the trails of whispers remained untamed and continued waiting for yet another curious wanderer who would not heed the warnings.
