EPILOGUE
290 Words
Epilogue
Years later, the cabin still stands, half-swallowed by the forest. Locals speak of it in whispers, warning others to stay away.
But sometimes, at dusk, if you listen closely, you can hear a voice from within.
A soft, sorrowful whisper.
"You left me."
Years passed, but the cabin remained, untouched and half-swallowed by the creeping forest. Vines wrapped around the walls like skeletal fingers, roots burrowed deep beneath its foundation. The air around it was colder, heavier, as though the earth itself remembered.
The locals avoided the place, speaking of it only in whispers. Tales were told of strange shadows that moved behind cracked windows, of cold winds that howled through the trees even when the night was still. Some claimed they saw a girl’s face in the glass, pale and watching. Others heard laughter, broken and distant, swallowed by the dark.
But the most persistent story was the whisper. The soft, sorrowful voice that echoed through the woods at dusk.
"You left me."
A warning. A curse. A memory that refused to fade.
And for Mira and Elen, life went on—but differently.
Mira would wake from sleep, heart pounding, the whisper still fresh in her mind. She’d glance over her shoulder when walking through shadows, expecting to find someone there. Watching. Waiting.
Elen grew distant, silent. She kept the rusted key, though she told no one why. She would sit by her window at night, staring into the dark, listening for the whisper that haunted her dreams.
Because though they had left the cabin, a part of them remained.
And some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
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And the cabin waits. Patient and hungry.
Because the Hollow never forgets.
And it never forgives.
- Writer
