The Whispering Forest

Elena had always been drawn to the unknown. When she heard whispers about the abandoned Blackwood Forest, she knew she had to see it for herself. Legends spoke of voices calling out in the night, of shadowy figures watching from between the trees. Locals warned her to stay away, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear.

One evening, armed with only a flashlight and her phone, she ventured into the forest. The air was unnaturally still, and the towering trees seemed to close in around her. As she walked deeper, the whispers began. At first, they were faint, like the rustling of leaves. Then, they grew clearer.

“Elena... turn back...”

She froze, her breath hitching. The voice was unmistakable—it sounded like her mother’s, who had passed away years ago. Her heart pounded, but she pressed on, convincing herself it was just the wind.

Then she saw it.

A figure stood ahead, partially obscured by the mist. It had no face, just a dark void where its features should be. The whispers intensified, overlapping in a chorus of warnings. Her phone flickered, the battery draining instantly. Her flashlight sputtered, leaving her in near darkness.

Panic set in. She turned to run, but the path behind her had disappeared. The trees had shifted, their twisted trunks forming an unnatural maze. The whispers became screams, and unseen hands seemed to brush against her skin. She stumbled forward, desperate to escape.

A cold grip clamped around her wrist.

She let out a strangled scream, yanking herself free and sprinting blindly through the darkness. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, but she didn’t stop. Finally, she burst out of the forest, collapsing onto the grass. The whispers ceased instantly. The trees loomed behind her, silent and still.

Gasping, she looked at her wrist. A deep, blackened handprint had been burned into her skin.

She never spoke of what happened that night. But sometimes, when she was alone, she swore she could still hear the whispers calling her name.