Whispers of the Forgotten

Whispers of the Forgotten

It was the kind of day where the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet village of Rupnagar. The air felt heavy, thick with the dampness of the nearby forest. The village was small, a collection of old, crumbling houses with weathered facades. But the forest that loomed behind it was ancient, its trees towering and tangled, as though holding secrets of a time long forgotten.

Shashi, Raju, and Neha were inseparable. Growing up together, the three friends had always been curious about the village's lore, especially the eerie stories their elders whispered by the fire. But none fascinated them more than the tale of the *Forgotten*.

According to the old legend, many years ago, there had been a family that lived deep within the forest. They were never seen in the village, but on certain nights, strange lights flickered from their house, and mournful cries could be heard. One day, the entire family vanished without a trace. Since then, villagers claimed that anyone who ventured too deep into the forest could hear whispers in the wind, calling them by name.

But Shashi, the skeptical one, always dismissed these stories as village folklore. "There’s no such thing as ghosts," he would say, rolling his eyes. Raju, on the other hand, had a strong belief in the supernatural but lacked the courage to confront it. Neha, the most level-headed of the trio, found herself torn between the two, curious but cautious.

One evening, the trio found themselves sitting by the village's old well, talking about their upcoming high school exams when the conversation drifted back to the legend of the *Forgotten*.

"I bet we could find that house," Shashi said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Are you mad?" Raju’s eyes widened. "What if the stories are true?"

Neha remained quiet, her brow furrowed. "Maybe we shouldn’t mess with things we don’t understand."

But Shashi, always the adventurer, wouldn't let it go. "Come on! If there’s nothing there, we’ll just have a good laugh. And if there is... well, at least we’ll have a story to tell."

Against their better judgment, Neha and Raju agreed. The plan was set: they would venture into the forest the next day, just before dusk, and find the legendary house of the Forgotten.

---

The Forest Beckons

The next afternoon, with their nerves tingling, the three friends set off towards the edge of the forest. The trees, tall and imposing, seemed to lean in as though they were watching the teens approach. Sunlight flickered through the leaves, casting eerie patterns on the ground.

As they walked deeper into the forest, the sounds of the village faded away, replaced by the whispers of the wind and the rustling of leaves. Neha felt a shiver run down her spine. “Are we sure about this?” she asked, clutching her flashlight.

“Too late to turn back now,” Shashi said, though even he seemed less sure of himself the further they ventured.

An hour passed, and the forest began to feel like a maze. The path they followed twisted and turned, becoming narrower as they went. The sun, once bright and strong, was now hidden behind thick clouds, casting a pale, dim light over everything.

"We should head back," Raju suggested, looking over his shoulder every few minutes.

"Just a little farther," Shashi insisted, though the confidence in his voice wavered.

Suddenly, Neha stopped, her eyes fixed ahead. “Do you see that?”

Through the trees, barely visible in the fading light, was a house. It stood dilapidated and forgotten, its wooden walls covered in moss and ivy. The windows were broken, and the roof sagged, as though the forest was slowly reclaiming it.

“I can’t believe it,” Shashi whispered. “It’s real.”

---

The Forgotten House

The three teenagers approached the house cautiously. Every step felt like a breach into another world, one that had been sealed off for decades. The door, though weathered, stood ajar, creaking as it swayed slightly in the breeze.

“I don’t like this,” Raju muttered, gripping his flashlight tightly.

“We’ve come this far,” Shashi said, though even he was beginning to feel uneasy.

They stepped inside, the floorboards groaning under their weight. Dust filled the air, and the faint smell of mildew clung to the walls. The house was dark, with only thin slivers of light seeping through the broken windows. Furniture lay scattered, broken and decayed, as if the occupants had left in a hurry.

Neha noticed something strange—a trail of footprints in the dust, leading from the door deeper into the house. “Someone’s been here,” she whispered.

The three exchanged uneasy glances but followed the footprints. They led them to a room at the back of the house, where a large, ornate mirror stood against the wall. It was out of place in the decaying surroundings, its surface oddly pristine despite the dust covering everything else.

“What’s a mirror doing here?” Raju asked, his voice trembling.

Before anyone could answer, the door behind them slammed shut with a deafening bang. Neha screamed, and Raju fumbled with his flashlight, the beam shaking wildly. Shashi ran to the door, pulling at it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Let us out!” Shashi yelled, pounding on the door.

But no one responded. Instead, the room grew colder, and a low whisper filled the air. The sound was faint at first, but it grew louder, the voices overlapping, as though many people were speaking at once.

“We shouldn’t have come here,” Neha said, her voice barely audible over the whispers.

Suddenly, the mirror flickered, and the surface began to ripple like water. Shashi, drawn by a force he couldn’t explain, stepped closer, his reflection growing clearer. But as he stared, something was wrong—his reflection wasn’t moving.

The figure in the mirror smiled, its eyes cold and hollow. Shashi stumbled back, his heart racing.

“They’re trapped,” Neha said, her voice shaking. “The *Forgotten*. They’re trapped in the mirror.”

---

The Sun's Last Light

Desperation filled the room as the sun outside dipped lower, casting long, twisted shadows through the broken windows. Shashi, Raju, and Neha huddled together, their breaths coming in short, panicked bursts.

"We need to break the mirror," Neha said, her voice firm despite the terror she felt.

"Are you crazy? What if that makes it worse?" Raju’s voice was barely a whisper, his hands trembling.

Shashi, usually the bold one, found himself paralyzed with fear. The whispers were getting louder, swirling around them like a storm. But Neha’s determination cut through the chaos. She grabbed a broken chair leg and, without hesitation, swung it at the mirror.

The glass shattered with a deafening crash, sending shards flying through the air. For a moment, the whispers stopped. Everything was still.

But then, the house groaned, as though something deep within it was awakening.