Whispering Woods

In a small, isolated village, nestled on the edge of a dark forest, there was a legend about the Whispering Woods. The villagers believed the forest was cursed. Anyone who ventured too deep into its shadows was said to hear whispers, faint and chilling, calling their name.

One stormy evening, a skeptical traveler named Ethan arrived in the village. He laughed at the warnings of the villagers, dismissing their stories as mere superstition. "There’s no such thing as ghosts or curses," he declared.

To prove his point, Ethan decided to enter the forest alone. With only a lantern to light his way, he stepped into the dense woods. The trees loomed tall and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

The wind howled, but it wasn’t long before Ethan heard something else. A whisper. At first, it was faint, barely audible over the rustling leaves. “Ethan…” the voice called, soft and eerie. He stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding.

“Who’s there?” he shouted, but there was no reply. As he ventured deeper, the whispers grew louder and more insistent. They seemed to come from all around him, yet no one was visible.

Panic set in, but when Ethan tried to retrace his steps, the path had vanished. The forest seemed to shift and close in on him, as if alive. Suddenly, the whispers turned into screams—agonized cries that filled the air.

Shadows moved between the trees, and ghostly figures emerged, their hollow eyes fixed on Ethan. He dropped his lantern and ran, but the figures followed, their chilling laughter echoing in his ears.

Ethan stumbled and fell into a clearing where an ancient, gnarled tree stood. Carved into its bark were hundreds of names—some old, some fresh. At the very top was his own name.

The last thing Ethan heard was a whisper, close to his ear: “Welcome to the woods.” The next morning, the villagers found his lantern at the forest’s edge.

Ethan was never seen again, but the legend of the Whispering Woods grew stronger, with a new name carved into its cursed tree.