WHISPERS IN THE HALLOW

Chapter 8 – The Forest Takes Them

Whispers in the Hollow

by Manilyn Nalaunan

Chapter 8 – The Forest Takes Them

By midday, the cabin felt unlivable.

The smell of iron clung to everything. No matter how many times Claire cracked the window or Ethan kicked at the warped doorframe, the metallic tang of blood remained heavy in the air, coating their tongues. The carvings on the walls glistened wetly, though the streaks had dried dark. Every time Lara looked at them, she could swear they had shifted again, curling into new shapes, like the wood was alive and writing messages none of them could read.

“We can’t stay here another night,” Lara said finally, breaking the thick silence. Her voice was low but firm, carrying the weight of command she hadn’t meant to take on. “If we do… none of us are getting out.”

Ethan stopped pacing and glared at her. “And what’s your plan? Van’s dead. No phone signal. You want us to just walk until we collapse?”

“Yes,” Lara shot back. “Better than waiting here for… for whatever’s in that cellar to come up and take us one by one.”

Claire nodded quickly, her eyes red and swollen. “She’s right. We can find the road. It can’t be that far.”

May spoke for the first time in hours, her voice flat. “But what if it doesn’t let us leave?”

Her words fell like a stone into water. No one wanted to admit how much sense they made. But none of them wanted to sleep another night in the bleeding cabin either.

By afternoon, they had packed. A few bottles of water, granola bars, a half-burned flashlight, the useless phones. It wasn’t much, but the thought of staying longer was unbearable. Lara checked the windows one last time, her eyes lingering on the bloody handprint smeared down the glass. It was still there, darker now, as though whatever left it had pressed harder.

She shivered and turned away.

They stepped outside.

The air was colder than it should have been, damp and heavy with the smell of moss. The forest loomed tall and unbroken in every direction, the sky a sliver of pale gray above. The cabin squatted behind them like a rotting tooth, dark against the skeletal trees.

“Which way?” Ethan asked, his voice brittle.

Lara pointed down the narrow dirt track they had driven up days before. “The road’s that way. If we follow it, we’ll hit town by nightfall.”

They began to walk.

For a while, there was silence but for the crunch of their shoes against leaves and the occasional snap of a branch. The further they went, the thicker the woods seemed to grow, trees knitting together until the light dimmed even though it was still afternoon.

Claire clung to May’s arm, whispering prayers under her breath. Ethan walked ahead, shoulders tight, his knife visible at his belt. Lara followed close behind, scanning the trees. Every so often, she thought she saw movement — a flicker between trunks, a darker shadow among shadows — but when she turned her head, nothing was there.

Minutes stretched into an hour. The forest pressed closer.

At last, Ethan let out a sharp breath and stopped.

They stood in a clearing.

It was small, maybe ten feet across, surrounded by towering pines. In the center was a blackened stump, as though lightning had split it decades ago.

Lara’s stomach dropped. She knew this place.

“This is the clearing by the cabin,” she whispered.

“No,” Ethan snapped. “No, we’ve been walking straight. That’s impossible.”

But it wasn’t impossible. Behind them, the faint outline of the cabin roof peeked through the trees, right where they had started.

Claire’s breath hitched. “We—we circled back?”

“Maybe we got turned around,” Ethan muttered, though his eyes darted nervously. “We’ll just try again.”

They turned, picked another direction, and walked.

And walked.

Hours seemed to pass. The trees never changed. The same mossy trunks, the same gnarled branches, the same skeletal deadfall underfoot. Their breaths came quicker, their water bottles drained too fast.

When they stumbled into another clearing, Lara felt her knees weaken.

The same stump.

The same clearing.

And behind them, the cabin again, silent and waiting.

Claire began to cry, her sobs muffled in May’s shoulder. Ethan cursed, kicking at the ground until dirt sprayed. “This is bullshit! There has to be a way out!”

May’s voice was hollow. “I told you. It won’t let us go.”

The woods darkened as the sun dipped low. Shadows stretched long and thin, weaving through the branches like black threads. The air grew colder, damp against their skin.

That was when the screams began.

They came from deep within the trees — a man’s voice, ragged and desperate.

“Help me!”

It was Jordan.

Lara froze, her chest constricting. “Jordan?” she called before she could stop herself.

The scream came again, closer this time, but wrong — warped somehow, like two voices overlapping.

“Laraaa…”

Claire shook her head violently, clutching May. “No. No, don’t listen. It’s not him. It’s not.”

But Ethan was already running, crashing through the underbrush toward the sound.

“Ethan!” Lara shouted, chasing after him.

They tore through the trees, branches whipping their arms, roots clawing at their ankles. The scream echoed again, leading them deeper.

And then it cut off.

The forest went deathly silent.

Ethan skidded to a stop, chest heaving, spinning in circles. “Where are you?!” he shouted into the void. “Where—”

A new sound answered him.

A wet tearing noise, followed by a strangled cry. Ethan’s voice — sharp, panicked, swallowed by the woods.

“Run!” Lara screamed.

Claire and May bolted, stumbling after her as the shadows shifted, too quick, too tall between the trees. Something moved with them, its footsteps heavy and deliberate.

They didn’t stop until the cabin came into view again, its roofline black against the twilight.

But Ethan wasn’t with them.

His screams still echoed faintly behind, swallowed by the forest.

The Hollow had taken him.