WHISPERS IN THE HALLOW

Chapter 3 – The First Whisper

Whispers in the Hollow

by Manilyn Nalaunan

The cabin settled into uneasy silence once the last candle was blown out. The only sounds left were the crack of the cooling wood and the distant murmur of the wind through the trees. The teens lay bundled in their sleeping bags across the living room floor, each trying to find comfort in the unfamiliar darkness.

Jordan had always prided himself on being able to fall asleep anywhere. But tonight was different. No matter how many times he shifted—lying on his back, then his side, then rolling onto his stomach—sleep refused to come. The cabin felt alive around him, breathing, flexing, groaning with each passing second.

He stared up at the ceiling beams, faintly visible in the thin strip of moonlight that filtered through the window. The shadows seemed to ripple against the wood, like water disturbed by something unseen beneath its surface.

At some point, the others’ breathing evened into the slow rhythm of sleep. Ethan snored softly on the couch, and May murmured occasionally in her dreams. Claire shifted restlessly near the wall, curling tighter into her blanket. Only Lara, lying closest to the cellar door, seemed as awake as Jordan was. Her body was still, but her eyes flickered open every now and then, their gazes briefly meeting in the dark before she closed hers again, pretending.

Jordan sighed quietly and rolled toward the window. The glass was cold against his cheek as he pressed closer, trying to see outside. The forest beyond looked endless, branches interlacing to form a black canopy. No stars pierced the sky; only the swollen moon hung like a pale eye, half hidden by drifting clouds.

That was when he heard it.

A voice.

“Jordan…”

His name was spoken so softly he almost convinced himself he had imagined it. He sat up slightly, heart thudding in his chest. The sound hadn’t come from inside the cabin. It had come from outside—just beyond the window.

He glanced at his friends. None stirred. Slowly, he crawled toward the glass, careful not to make a sound. The boards beneath him groaned in protest anyway, though none of the others moved.

He pressed his ear against the cold pane.

“Jordan…”

The whisper was clearer this time, unmistakable. Low, drawn out, and impossibly cold.

He jerked back, breath catching in his throat. His first thought was Ethan. It had to be Ethan, sneaking outside to screw with him. But Ethan was snoring only a few feet away.

Jordan’s pulse hammered against his ribs. He swallowed, forcing himself to speak in a low, rough whisper. “Who’s there?”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Then—

“Jordan… come outside.”

The voice coiled around his name, sweet yet laced with something sharp. He felt it brush against his skin like icy fingers.

Against every instinct screaming at him, Jordan rose to his feet. The floor creaked loudly beneath him, and he froze, glancing toward the others. But no one stirred. Even Lara’s eyes remained shut now, her breathing steady.

Moving slowly, Jordan unlatched the front door. The hinges groaned as he eased it open, wincing at the sound. A gust of damp, cold air rushed inside, carrying with it the smell of soil and wet leaves.

The porch was bathed in pale moonlight. The forest loomed, silent and endless. Shadows lay thick between the trees, pooling like ink.

Jordan stepped out, the wooden boards cold beneath his bare feet. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering as he peered into the darkness.

“Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Whoever’s messing with me, you got me. Congratulations. Now knock it off.”

The forest didn’t answer.

Then the whisper came again, closer this time, curling just behind his ear:

“Jordan… don’t stay here…”

He spun around, but no one was there. The clearing lay empty. His eyes darted across the shadows, searching for movement, for any sign of a figure slipping between the trees. Nothing.

His breath came in quick, sharp bursts now, puffing into the cold air. He backed slowly toward the door, every hair on his arms standing on end.

And then he felt it—warmth against his shoulder, as though someone’s lips brushed against his skin as they spoke.

“Leave… before it takes you.”

Jordan stumbled, nearly falling as he scrambled back inside and slammed the door shut. The sound was louder than he intended, rattling the frame and waking Lara instantly. She sat up, eyes wide, scanning the room.

“Jordan?” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

He leaned against the door, chest heaving. Sweat dampened his forehead despite the chill.

“Nothing,” he managed, his voice rough. “Just… needed some air.”

Lara studied him in the faint light, her brows knitting together. “At this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, rubbing his arms as if trying to erase the cold lingering there. He forced a weak smile. “Guess I’ll try again.”

She didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she lay back down, though her eyes lingered on him for a long time before closing.

Jordan sank into his sleeping bag, pulling it tightly around him. His heart still thundered, every nerve in his body alight. He told himself it had been a trick of the wind, an overactive imagination, exhaustion.

But as he closed his eyes, the whisper slid into his ears again, softer than a breath, curling low and cold against his mind.

“Don’t stay here…”

Jordan’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the ceiling, frozen. He didn’t move again until dawn’s pale light finally touched the windows.