The Whispering Woods [Unedited]

Authors note: This is the original piece I wrote with the challenge 'Spooky Micro' in mind, I was only just under double the word limit, so had to do some serious editing to get it down to fit the microfiction challenge.

There was only one rule: don't open the door. The issue was, there didn't seem to be a door. Callum was struggling, he didn't want to break the rule, he knew that meant almost certain death. But how could he avoid breaking the rule, if he didn't understand the premise? Was the door a metaphor for something else? It must be, unless he was meant to find a door on his journey. How could there possibly be a door in the Woods?

The group was escorted by a guide to travel safely through the Whispering Woods. Very few people attempted the journey from one side to the other without a guide, and even fewer survived it.

The safe path took them down into a gorge, across a fast running river and through a swamp, all within the Whispering Woods. The guide promptly took the group along the safe, rarely trodden route and instantly disappeared behind the dense bushes, reappearing a moment later, summoning the group to follow.

The Whispering Woods held many horrors; Ghosts and Ghouls, Skeletons and spine-chilling Spirits, Werewolves and Witches, Vampires and Vila. Callum was terrified, more now than ever before, and more because he could not understand the meaning of the warning.

Three days in, the group had been battered by sharp winds and bitter colds. Four of the group had either fallen behind or strayed from the path, and were never heard from again. The remaining seven including the guide came across a small hut, a rest stop, a safe haven. They entered through the open doorway into a surprisingly spacious area with a large rug on the floor.

The rug felt uneven under Callum's feet, he bent down and went to lift the rug and see what was underneath it, when the guide shouted out from behind him. He had however already seen the trapdoor that was sitting comfortably with well oiled hinges under the rug. This must be the door they had been warned of, the one and only rule.

Something was drawing Callum towards the trapdoor, and he wasn't the only one, he could sense the others around him slowly closing in on the rug, and the trapdoor concealed underneath it. Despite the warning they had been given, the rug was lifted twice more over the next ten minutes, each with answering shouts of despair from the guide.

Callum heard his name, he must have drifted off. Apparently he wasn't alone, looking around he saw not one person awake. His now open eyes fell upon the rug in the center of the room, almost instinctively, not being able to tear himself away from it, he made his way to it and rolled it back, revealing the trapdoor. A sense of urgency gripped Callum, he had to open the trapdoor, he must, so he did.

It didn't take him long to find the padlock key hanging around the guide's neck. Callum took it, unlocked the trapdoor, and raised the hatch. He could hear running water down the hatch, and couldn't stop himself from diving headlong into it.

That was the last thing Callum ever did.

The singing siren watched on as she claimed her latest victim, looking upwards, she noticed a small patch of light streaming in from the cave ceiling.

The hatch had been left open.