Read and listen to the story.
Every town has a place people avoid. For Millfield, it was the woods at the edge of town. Locals called them The Whispering Woods. No one remembered where the name came from, but everyone knew the stories — people went in and never came out the same.
On Halloween night, four friends — Leah, Daniel, Grace, and Noah — decided to test the legend. “It’s just a story,” Daniel said, switching on his flashlight. The others followed him down the narrow path, laughing to hide their nerves.
At first, everything was quiet. The trees stood tall and black against the moonlight. Then Leah heard it — a soft whisper, like someone calling her name. She turned around, but no one was there.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
Grace nodded slowly. “It sounded like you.”
They walked faster. The deeper they went, the colder it grew. The whispering got louder, closer, as if the trees themselves were speaking. The flashlights began to flicker. Noah’s light went out first. He cursed, trying to hit it back to life. When it turned on again, Leah was gone.
They called her name, but the only reply was more whispering — hundreds of voices, repeating their names. Daniel ran, but the path had changed. No matter which way he turned, the trees were the same.
By morning, only Grace stumbled out of the woods, pale and shaking. She couldn’t speak for days. When she finally did, all she said was, “The forest remembers your name.”
