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Whispers in the Fog

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118 views2 pages

Whispers in the Fog

Uploaded by

asallau210
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Whispers in the Fog

Martin adjusted the straps of his backpack, squinting at the last sliver of sunlight vanishing
behind the dense forest. The path had disappeared hours ago, swallowed by the undergrowth, and
the crumpled map in his pocket was no help. He hated feeling lost, but he wasn’t about to panic.
Not yet.

Crunch.

The sound startled him, and he froze. Slowly, he turned to look behind him, but nothing moved.
Just trees, their twisted branches stretching like the arms of old, tired giants. He forced himself to
take a deep breath. It was probably just a squirrel—or something else harmless. That’s what he
told himself, anyway.

But as he walked on, the forest seemed to change. The air felt heavier, and the shadows grew
longer, as though the trees were leaning closer. Every step he took was louder than the last, and
soon, he wasn’t sure if the footsteps he heard were his own.

A chill ran down his spine. Somewhere in the distance, something rustled. It wasn’t the random,
skittering sound of an animal. It was slower. Deliberate.

Martin’s heart thumped harder. He quickened his pace, but the sound seemed to follow. When he
saw the cabin, he felt a rush of relief—then dread. It stood in the middle of a small clearing,
leaning to one side as if it might collapse. Its windows were shattered, the door barely hanging
on its hinges. It didn’t look safe, but out here, what choice did he have?

He stepped inside. The floorboards groaned loudly, and a strange smell filled his nose, sharp and
metallic. The air felt colder here, and his flashlight flickered as he moved it across the room. The
walls were covered in carvings—odd shapes and symbols that looked almost alive in the dim
light.

What was this place?

Then he heard it.

Footsteps.

They were soft at first, like someone was trying to be quiet. Martin froze, every muscle in his
body tense. The steps grew louder, steadier, until they stopped right outside the door.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice shaking.

No answer.
The silence stretched, and Martin’s breathing grew faster. Suddenly, the door creaked open, just
an inch. A shadow spilled into the room, dark and menacing. He didn’t wait to see who—or what
—it was.

He ran.

Branches whipped at his face as he tore through the forest. His legs burned, and his chest ached,
but he didn’t stop. The whispers started then, low and mocking, coming from everywhere and
nowhere at once.

When Martin finally burst out of the forest and onto a road, he collapsed. The faint glow of a
streetlight flickered above him, and for a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the sky.

He wanted to believe it was over, but as he turned back toward the trees, the shadows seemed to
shift. Whatever was in there, it wasn’t done with him. Not yet.

Word Count: 492

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