WHISPERS IN THE HALLOW

Chapter 4 – Games in the Dark

Whispers in the Hollow

by Manilyn Nalaunan

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the cabin was wrapped in shadow. The thin light of dusk lingered only a short while before the forest swallowed it whole. The teenagers sat huddled around the small wooden table, their faces dimly lit by a cluster of candles May had insisted on lighting after the overhead bulb flickered itself into silence.

The atmosphere was strained. Jordan had hardly spoken all day, his eyes distant, jaw tight. Every time Lara caught him staring toward the cellar door, she felt her stomach twist. She hadn’t forgotten the way he had stood at the front door last night, pale and shaken, though he had brushed it off with excuses.

But no one pressed him. Instead, Ethan tried to fill the silence. He tapped the table with restless fingers, grinning at the others. “Alright, I think we’re overdue for some fun. And I know just the thing.”

May raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. You want to play something stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Ethan corrected. “Classic. The ultimate cabin game: truth or dare.”

Claire groaned immediately, curling her legs under her. “Do we have to? That always ends badly.”

“Exactly,” Ethan said, pointing at her with mock triumph. “Which is why it’s perfect.”

Jordan finally spoke, his voice low. “Maybe not tonight.”

Ethan’s grin faltered but only for a second. He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Lara shot him a warning look. “Ethan, drop it.”

But May leaned forward, intrigued despite herself. “Actually… it might help. You know, distract us. Take our minds off how creepy this place is.”

Claire hugged her arms around her knees, clearly unconvinced, but when the others looked at her expectantly, she sighed. “Fine. But nothing too crazy.”

“Perfect.” Ethan clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the still cabin. “Alright. Who’s first?”

They started simple. Ethan dared May to sing the chorus of a song at the top of her lungs, and she belted it out so badly that even Claire laughed, the sound easing the tension just a little. May asked Lara to admit her worst fear, and after a pause, Lara confessed she hated being alone at night.

The laughter faded quickly, though. Each round seemed to draw them closer to the cellar.

When the turn came to Jordan, he dared Ethan to stick his hand into the fireplace ash and smear it on his face like war paint. Ethan complied with theatrical flair, earning a round of chuckles, but when he sat back down, his gaze drifted—inevitably—toward the padlocked door.

His grin sharpened. “Alright, May. I dare you to open that cellar.”

The words dropped like a stone.

The group went still. The candle flames flickered as if stirred by some invisible breath. Claire shook her head instantly. “No. Don’t even joke about that.”

“It’s just a door,” Ethan said, though his voice held a dangerous kind of excitement. “Come on, May. You’re not scared, are you?”

May’s eyes darted to the cellar. The iron padlock gleamed faintly in the candlelight, its surface catching and holding the flame like it was alive. She bit her lip, hesitating.

Lara leaned forward sharply. “Don’t. Seriously, Ethan, that’s not funny.”

But May was already rising to her feet, her jaw set. “If I don’t do it, you’ll never let me hear the end of it.” She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Besides, it’s locked. Nothing’s going to happen.”

The others watched as she padded across the creaking floor. The candlelight threw long, distorted shadows against the walls, making her silhouette stretch unnaturally. She crouched before the cellar door and reached out. Her hand hovered just above the padlock.

And then—

The lock rattled.

May froze. Her breath caught. Slowly, she turned back toward the others. “Did you see—?”

The door groaned. With a sound like a sigh, the padlock slid free on its own, falling heavily against the wood. The cellar door creaked inward, just an inch, and a rush of cold air spilled into the room. It carried with it a smell like damp stone and something faintly metallic, like old blood.

Claire let out a strangled cry and scrambled backward, knocking over her candle. Wax spilled across the table as the flame sputtered, nearly plunging them into darkness.

“Holy—” Ethan started, but the words died on his lips. His grin was gone now, replaced by wide, frightened eyes.

May stumbled away from the door, her face pale. “I didn’t touch it,” she whispered. “I swear I didn’t touch it.”

The cellar yawned open just enough for blackness to seep into the room, thick and oppressive. The cold deepened, settling into their bones. For a long moment, no one moved.

Finally, Lara jumped up, her heart hammering. She shoved the door shut, the slam echoing through the cabin like a gunshot. She grabbed the padlock with trembling hands, fumbling until it clicked back into place.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Ethan cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “Okay. That was… weird. But maybe it was just… you know, gravity or something.”

“No,” Claire said fiercely, her eyes shining with terror. “That wasn’t gravity. That was wrong.”

Jordan said nothing. He just stared at the cellar, his face tight, his jaw clenched.

The game ended then. No one suggested another round. Instead, they retreated to their sleeping bags, each pretending they could shrug it off, that it hadn’t happened. But no amount of forced laughter or whispered reassurances could mask the truth.

The cellar had opened.

And something inside had wanted out.

That night, as the candles guttered low and shadows swallowed the cabin whole, Lara lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She could still feel the rush of cold air against her skin, hear the creak of the door swinging on its own.

When she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, she dreamed of whispers curling up from the cellar, soft and hungry, calling her name.