Soph Garcia

22 April 2024

Creative Writing

Short Story: The Whispering Wood

In the heart of the Whispering Woods stood an old, decrepit house, shrouded in mystery and

whispered tales of horror. Avoided by locals who claimed the house was cursed, haunted by the

spirits of those who had met their end within its walls.

One stormy night, a group of friends decided to test their courage and explore the

abandoned house. Sarah led the way, her blinding flashlight cutting through the darkness like a

knife. With her were Mike, who laughed at the warnings of the locals, and Emma, who was

there more for the adventure than the thrill.

As they entered the house, they were greeted by a chill that seemed to calcify their bones.

The air was heavy with the smell of decay, and the floorboards creaked beneath their feet with

every step.

"We should go, this place creeps me out," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper.
 "Relax, it's just an old house," Mike replied, trying to sound confident, but there was a hint of

unease in his voice.

Sarah said nothing, her eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail from the

cobwebs to the holes in the walls. Together, they made their way through the house, exploring

each room in turn.

In the dining room, they found an old, dusty table set for a meal, as if the occupants had

suddenly fled, leaving everything behind.

"Looks like they left in a hurry," Mike said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain

pounding against the windows.

In the living room, they discovered a book, its pages yellowed with age. As they flipped

through its pages, they came across a passage describing a ritual that promised to summon the

dead.

"Think we should try it?" Emma asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Sarah hesitated, her eyes narrowed in thought. "Probably not. It seems risky." But Mike was

already halfway through the incantation, his voice trembling with excitement.
 As they chanted the words written in the book, the air grew colder, and an unignorable sense

of unease settled over them. Suddenly, they heard a whispering voice, barely audible at first,

but growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

"What was that?!" Emma asked, her voice trembling with fear. She gripped Sarah’s hand so

tightly that both of their hands turned white.

"I don't know, Mike, stop!" Sarah replied, her eyes wide with terror, she glanced back and

forth between her two friends.

Mike stayed silent, seemingly frozen by the overwhelming voices bouncing off the walls.

Panicked, Sarah and Emma tried to flee, but the doors and windows slammed and sealed

shut, trapping them inside. Turned around by the closed door, Sarah and Emma saw Mike begin

his ascent into the air, as if he were lighter than helium.

Mike’s eyes rolled into the back of head and his body contorted into the shape of the letter C.

The whispering grew into a symphony of voices, each one more terrifying than the last.

Shadows danced on the walls, and the temperature plummeted until they could see their own

breath in the air.

 The two girls let out screams that made the wine glasses on the table shattered. Emma

fell to her knees and began sobbing. Sarah lunged forward towards Mike and began tugging at

his leg, trying to anchor him back to the floor.

“Emma! Emma, get up,” Sarah pleaded through tears, “I need you!”

Limb by limb, Emma pulled herself up onto her feet. She was still crying, but trying her

hardest to choke back her tears. She took a long breath that filled her entire upper body, and

when she let it out she wiped the sadness from her face. Her expression hardened and her

voice turned cold. She stepped in line with Sarah and began tugging at Mike’s other leg.

Just as they thought they could take no more, the voices stopped, and the darkness lifted.

The doors and windows swung open, Mike’s body dropped to the floor and landed on the two

girls. Gasping for air as they rolled Mike off of them, Sarah and Emma scooted away on their

hands and knees, waiting for any movement from Mike.

Mike’s body laid face up, his eyes were closed and his face was whiter than the fur

carpet on the floor. The seconds turned to minutes faster and faster as the two girls sat on the

floor staring at him then at each other. They waited for any sign of life that Mike could give

them. A hand’s twitch, a quick breath, his eyes opening would’ve been ideal.

“I think it’s time to consider,” Sarash started before Emma cut in.
 “No! He’d wait for us so we should wait for him.” Emma proclaimed as her body insisted

they stay put.

Time kept passing as they kept waiting, and eventually, the whispers and movements of

the house halted. Neither of them would admit it, but they started to feel more comfortable

with each passing moment.

Slowly, the color came back to Mike’s face, his eyes shot open, and he let out a scream.

The piercing sound made the girls stand on their feet and they stepped slowly towards him.

They waited for another sound, terrified that it may not be Mike that they are looking at. But

then, while clenching his stomach Mike turned over and spoke.

“Well,” he groaned, “Are you going to help me or not?”

Sarah and Emma rushed to him and picked him up by one shoulder each. Mike winced

and the two girls almost dropped him when they heard the sound, but they pushed through the

hurt and got him on his feet.

Mike stood and threw his arms over the girls, all of his weight seemed to come back. The

girls looked at each other, wondering how one minute their friend was floating in the air and

the next he was relying on them to stand.

 “Surely his bones are broken…some of them at least,” Sarah thought to herself.

Slowly and through the struggle, the three friends found their way out of the abandoned

house and made a promise to each other never to return to that town period.

Sarah and Emma seemed fine, they were traumatized by the events, but physically they were

fine. They were blissfully unaware the Whispering Woods House had not finished with Mike yet.

As they made their way home, Mike could still hear the faint whispering in the back of his mind,

a constant reminder of the horrors that had unleashed upon him, but he was afraid to say

anything to his friends.

So the three lived out the rest of their days, haunted by the memory of that fateful night, and

the whispering voices of the dead.