WHISPERS IN THE HALLOW

Whispers in the Hollow by Manilyn Nalaunan The van rattled down the cracked highway, its old suspension creaking every time the wheels bounced over a pothole. Inside, five teenagers were crammed together with backpacks, snack bags, and sleeping gear piled high behind them. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sour candy, but it was alive with chatter and laughter. “Shotgun rules are eternal,” Ethan announced from the front passenger seat, leaning back with one foot on the dashboard like he owned the vehicle. His mop of dark hair flopped into his eyes as he smirked at the others. “If anyone wants to challenge me, speak now or forever hold your peace.” “Maybe if you hadn’t elbowed me in the ribs, I’d be sitting there right now,” May said, crossing her arms. She was tucked into the middle seat in back, squeezed between Jordan and Claire. Her messy bun bobbed as she glared at Ethan. “You snooze, you lose,” Ethan shot back. “Besides, Lara likes me better.” From behind the wheel, Lara rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. Her hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly. “Don’t drag me into this. I’m just trying not to kill us all before we even get there.” “You won’t,” Jordan said casually, his deep voice calm in the chaos. He leaned his head against the window, earbuds dangling around his neck. He was always the easygoing one, always so sure things would work out. “You’re the only one responsible enough to drive. If it were Ethan, we’d already be in a ditch.” Claire laughed softly, though the sound was fragile, as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to enjoy herself. “I second that. I don’t trust Ethan with anything sharper than a spoon.” “Ha-ha,” Ethan muttered, pretending to be wounded. “You wound me deeply.” The van filled with another wave of laughter, the kind that came easy when friends were together on the open road. For a while, they sang along badly to songs blasting from Lara’s phone hooked up to the speakers, their voices competing with the hum of the engine. The afternoon sun poured through the windows, warming their faces and adding to the illusion that everything in the world was light and carefree. But as the hours passed and the road narrowed, the atmosphere inside began to shift. The fields they had passed earlier, golden with late summer grain, gave way to dense trees that leaned over the two-lane road. The canopy overhead grew thicker, blotting out more and more of the sky. Lara noticed the way the GPS signal had flickered uncertainly before finally cutting out altogether. She had been expecting it—remote areas often meant dead zones—but the sudden loss of connection still prickled at the back of her neck. “Guys,” Claire said softly, holding up her phone. “No service.” Ethan groaned. “Come on, really? I was just about to send my streaks.” “Maybe it’s for the best,” Jordan murmured, still gazing out the window. His reflection in the glass looked more thoughtful than amused now. “We’re supposed to be unplugging, right? Just us, nature, and this creepy cabin we rented.” May perked up at that, her voice dripping with mock drama. “Oooh, Hollow Creek. The haunted woods. Don’t you know people disappear out here?” Ethan grinned wickedly. “Yeah, my cousin told me about that. Said there’s some story about a witch, or maybe a cult. People go missing, voices calling your name in the night, that kind of thing.” “Stop,” Claire said immediately, hugging her arms close to her chest. “Don’t joke about that.” Lara glanced at her friend in the rearview mirror. Claire’s face had paled, her lips pressed tight together. Lara felt a stab of guilt for not brushing off Ethan’s words sooner. “Relax,” Lara said, trying to sound breezy. “It’s just a bunch of urban legends. Every small town has them. Remember the stories about the library back home? How the ghost of some old librarian supposedly shushed people forever?” “Yeah, but that was funny,” Claire said. “This doesn’t feel funny.” No one responded right away. The only sound was the steady drone of tires on asphalt. The forest seemed to grow darker, even though it was still late afternoon. The branches arched overhead like skeletal arms, filtering the sunlight into dim, fractured pieces. Shadows stretched long across the road, moving strangely as the van sped past. Lara couldn’t help but notice the way the trees seemed to crowd closer together, as if the forest itself were pressing inward, trying to swallow the road whole. After another thirty minutes of driving, they passed an old, weathered sign barely clinging to a rusted pole. The paint was almost gone, but the words “Hollow Creek” could still be made out in faded black letters. Below it, someone had spray-painted a jagged red X. “Comforting,” Ethan said dryly. “Nothing says ‘vacation destination’ like graffiti and decay.” May pressed her face to the glass. “Look—there’s an old house back there.” They all turned to see it: a dilapidated farmhouse sagging under the weight of years, its roof caved in, windows empty and black. A lone scarecrow stood in the field out front, its clothes shredded, its head nothing more than a burlap sack slumped to one side. Even from the road, Lara could feel the chill radiating from the sight. “Okay, that’s creepy,” Jordan admitted. “You wanted unplugged,” Ethan said with a shrug. “This is what unplugged looks like.” Claire whispered something so low that Lara almost didn’t catch it. “It feels wrong out here.” They drove on. The road narrowed even more, the pavement cracked and uneven. At one point, they slowed to a crawl to navigate around a fallen branch that stretched nearly all the way across. Birds fluttered out of the trees when the tires crunched over it, their caws echoing harshly in the heavy air. No one was laughing anymore. Finally, as the sky began to turn from gold to bruised purple, the cabin came into view at the end of a dirt path. It was smaller than Lara expected, crouched low between the trees like it was trying to hide. Its wood siding was gray with rot, the roof sagging slightly in the middle. A single crow perched on the railing of the porch, watching them approach. When the van drew closer, the bird spread its wings with a harsh caw and took off, disappearing into the forest canopy. The van rolled to a stop in the clearing, engine ticking as it cooled. The forest around them seemed to exhale, but not with relief—it was more like it had been waiting. “Well,” Ethan said after a beat of silence, “home sweet home.” No one laughed. Lara swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter. For a moment, she thought she saw movement in the shadows between the trees—just a flicker, like someone slipping deeper into the forest. But when she blinked, there was nothing. Still, the uneasy feeling remained, crawling along her spine like cold fingers. It felt, she thought, like the forest had closed in behind them, sealing them inside.