Whispers in the Woods

We set up camp deep in the national forest, miles past where any normal hiker

would bother going. By midnight, the fire was dying down, and my buddy crawled

into his tent while I stayed out a little longer, listening to the woods settle.

That’s when I heard it—someone whispering my name from the tree line. At first I thought

it was my friend messing with me, until I saw his silhouette zipped tight in his tent.

The whisper came again, clearer this time… like it was right behind me.

I spun around, but nothing was there. Then, every sound in the

woods stopped. No wind. No insects. Dead silence. A shadow stepped