The whispering Woods
18:53 Sep 25 2025
Times Read: 37
New book i'm writing.
Chapter 1
The town of Harrowsfield had always been quiet, but this silence was different. Not the peaceful, lazy kind where you could hear the wind through the trees or the distant hoot of an owl it was heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. Even the river at the edge of town, usually gurgling and restless, seemed frozen in an unnatural calm.
Evelyn Thompson tightened her scarf around her neck as she walked Liam home from school. The boy’s small hand gripped hers so tightly that her fingers ached. His eyes darted toward the edge of the woods that bordered the town, where shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should.
“Mom… do you hear that?” Liam whispered, his voice barely audible.
Evelyn paused. There was a sound a soft, sibilant whisper, so faint it could have been the wind. But it wasn’t. It was deliberate, like someone or something was calling, coaxing. Her stomach clenched. She wanted to dismiss it, to tell herself it was imagination. Most adults in town would have done exactly that.
But some didn’t come back.
The whispers weren’t new. Over the past fortnight, people had vanished: the postman, a retired teacher, a dog-walker. No signs of struggle, no footprints just gone. The only trace was the sound those who had been near the woods remembered. A whispering that seemed to burrow under the skin and linger in the ears long after the sound faded.
Evelyn tugged Liam closer. “Nothing. Just the trees, okay?” she said, forcing a laugh she didn’t feel. Her voice felt wrong, too loud, and she instantly regretted it. Liam flinched, covering his ears.
“You’re… you’re not supposed to talk,” he muttered, eyes wide. “They hear it, Mom.”
She stopped, freezing in place. “Who…?”
“They,” he said simply, pointing at the treeline. His small finger trembled. “They hear everything.”
Evelyn felt a shiver crawl up her spine. She had been alone with Liam since her husband died, and she prided herself on being practical, rational. But now, she felt her mind teetering on the edge of something irrational and terrifying. She didn’t want to think what that whispering could mean.
They passed under the shadowed canopy of trees. The whispers followed, faint but persistent, curling around the trunks like smoke. Liam’s grip tightened, and Evelyn’s heart thumped so loud she feared it might betray them.
At the edge of the woods, a rustle stopped them cold. Evelyn’s breath caught. No wind moved through the branches. The sound was deliberate, measured a small, almost human-like shuffle. Then silence.
“Mom…” Liam’s voice trembled. “Did you… see?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Evelyn said, but her voice was unsteady. She looked over her shoulder, toward the dark mass of the forest. It seemed to pulse, alive, watching, waiting. The air smelled wrong damp, earthy, and something else… metallic, like blood.
A low, soft whisper brushed against her ear. Evelyn…
She spun around. The woods were empty. Just shadows. Just the trees.
But she knew better.
Something had heard her.
And it was patient.
Chapter 2 – Unseen Eyes
That night, Evelyn lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening. The house was silent or as silent as it could be. Liam slept in the next room, curled up beneath his blanket like a small, fragile animal. But even through the walls, Evelyn could feel it: the presence.
It was everywhere. Or perhaps nowhere. She couldn’t be sure.
A faint scratching echoed from the corner of Liam’s room. Soft at first, like a mouse scurrying behind the wardrobe. Then louder, deliberate, deliberate enough to make her pulse hammer in her throat.
“Liam?” she whispered, but he didn’t stir. The scratching stopped abruptly. Evelyn held her breath. The silence returned, thick and suffocating.
Morning brought no relief. The sun rose over Harrowsfield like a weak promise. Evelyn forced herself to make breakfast, to act normal, but her eyes kept flicking toward the windows. Shadows moved. Always just at the edge of her vision. Sometimes in her peripheral vision, shapes lingered too long, twisted unnaturally before vanishing.
Liam noticed them too. “Mom… it’s watching,” he said, voice trembling.
Evelyn swallowed. “Watching what, baby?”
He shook his head, too young to explain. “Everything. Me… you… the dog…”
Her stomach dropped. The dog. Toby, their scrappy terrier, had been barking all morning, then gone. The leash lay in the mud outside, taut as if something invisible had pulled it away. No paw prints. No signs of struggle. Just… gone.
Evelyn felt panic clawing at her chest. Someone or something was inside the house, maybe outside, maybe everywhere at once. She checked every corner, every closet. Nothing. But the feeling remained. The eyes. Always eyes.
By evening, the whispers started again, soft and urgent, rising from the shadows of the yard. They weren’t words. Not exactly. But the tones tugged at the mind, suggesting things better left unimagined. Liam covered his ears. Evelyn could almost hear the creatures moving around the walls, pressing against the wood and plaster like wet hands.
And then came the scratching again, this time under the floorboards of their living room. She froze, listening as the noise crept across the timbers.
Evelyn wanted to run, to grab Liam and escape but where? Harrowsfield had become a trap. The air itself felt watchful. Every corner, every hallway, every darkened space was alive with unseen eyes.
At the kitchen window, she glimpsed a shadow flicker across the yard tall, thin, and impossibly still. Not human, and not fully animal. She blinked, and it was gone. But the feeling lingered, the whisper of presence, and the certainty: whatever was watching them… was patient.
And hungry.
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