Chapter 2: Whispers in the Woods
Chapter 2: Whispers in the Woods
Three days had passed since Clara arrived in Black Hollow, and the unease in her chest hadn’t lessened. It wasn't the slow pace of the town, nor the curious glances she caught from passersby. It was something harder to name—something just beneath the surface, as if the whole place were holding its breath.
The woods that bordered the town fascinated her most. Locals avoided them, crossing the street rather than walk near the tree line. Even Mrs. Whitlow had drawn every curtain in the house once dusk arrived and refused to speak of anything “uncivilized” that might happen in the dark.
That morning, Clara bundled into a jacket and walked toward the edge of the woods. She wasn’t sure why—maybe curiosity, or maybe the part of her that didn’t scare as easily as it should.
The trees rose tall and twisted, their branches bare despite the season. A thin fog wove through the trunks, and the deeper she walked, the quieter everything became. No birds. No wind. Just silence, and the soft crunch of dead leaves underfoot.
Clara stopped when she saw something strange—marks on a tree trunk. Four deep grooves, like claws, raked down the bark. They were fresh.
She stepped closer. The gouges were nearly an inch deep, too precise for weather or rot. Her fingers hovered over them.
“Not smart to be out here alone.”
She turned sharply. Liam stood a few yards away, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” she said, trying to sound calm.
“I followed your tracks,” he said. “Town’s not the safest place to wander during the full moon cycle.”
She arched a brow. “So you’re serious about that? The full moon warnings?”
He walked past her, examining the claw marks without touching them. “People disappear during full moons. Always have. Animals found mutilated. Sometimes people too—what’s left of them. Most say it’s just coincidence. Others don’t talk about it at all.”
“And what do you think?”
Liam looked at her then, something haunted flickering in his eyes. “I think there’s truth in every story.”
Clara shifted uncomfortably. “You ever see anything?”
“No,” he said too quickly. Then added, “But I’ve heard things. My dad used to say the forest talks during the full moon. Whispers things in your ear if you listen too long.”
Clara tried to laugh, but it sounded flat. “You trying to scare me, Liam?”
“I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up missing,” he said, voice low.
She nodded, unsettled despite herself. “Okay. I’ll be careful.”
Liam gave her a long look before turning and walking back toward the town. She followed.
That evening, Clara sat in the diner again. Rain tapped at the windows, and the few locals inside spoke in hushed tones. The full moon was still two nights away, but the tension in the air was thick. Like the town knew what was coming.
The waitress Mary, Clara had learned refilled her coffee with a frown.
“You should be packing your things,” she said quietly.
Clara blinked. “Excuse me?”
Mary leaned closer. “No one stays through the full moon unless they’re stuck here or have nowhere else to go. You’ve got a car. Use it.”
“Why?” Clara asked. “What’s really out there?”
Mary hesitated, then wiped her hands on her apron. “Something old. Something angry. I’ve lived here my whole life, and every month, someone vanishes. The sheriff blames drifters, animals, anything but the truth. But we know. We all know.”
“Know what, exactly?”
Mary’s eyes were flat. “That the curse is real.”
Before Clara could ask more, Mary walked away.
That night, Clara couldn’t sleep again.
The wind rattled the windowpane, and clouds skittered across the moon. She sat at her desk, flipping through a leather-bound journal she’d found in the drawer of her rented room. It belonged to someone named Eleanor Hart, dated over fifty years ago.
March 14th, 1971
The beast came again. I heard it howling in the trees. Saw its eyes—burning like embers. God help me, I think I know who it is…
Clara read the entry twice. The rest of the pages were torn or smudged, but the name nagged at her. She closed the book, heart thudding.
A distant howl broke the night.
Low. Long. Too close.
She rushed to the window, staring out into the darkness. Nothing moved at first, and then—
A shadow darted between the trees across the road. Large. Loping. Fast.
Clara froze.
Another howl echoed through the woods—this one closer, higher pitched.
She backed away from the window, pulse racing. Something was out there. Something real.
Morning came, gray and cold. Mrs. Whitlow had drawn the curtains and turned up the heat. She said nothing as Clara came downstairs, but the silence was heavier than usual.
Outside, the sheriff’s cruiser was parked near the edge of the woods. A group of townsfolk stood nearby, whispering. Clara walked up, curious.
“What happened?” she asked a man standing off to the side.
“Missing hiker,” he muttered. “City boy. Should’ve known better.”
“Where was he last seen?”
The man didn’t answer. Just pointed to the trees.
The same trees Clara had walked into yesterday.
Later that day, Clara found Liam behind the town hall, stacking firewood.
“Someone went missing last night,” she said.
He nodded. “They always do.”
“Why doesn’t anyone do anything about it? Why stay?”
“Because this is home,” Liam said, setting another log down. “Because people are afraid to leave. Afraid the curse follows them.”
“Do you believe it’s a curse?”
“I believe something dark lives here. And it doesn’t want to be found.”
Clara crossed her arms. “Then why are you still here?”
Liam looked away, jaw tight. “Because I don’t have a choice.”
That night, Clara stood at her window again.
The wind blew harder. The trees swayed. The clouds parted, and the almost-full moon shone down like an unblinking eye.
And from the woods came the whisper.
A sound that wasn’t quite wind. Not quite voice.
Her name.
“Clara…”