THE WHISPERING GROVE

Ella froze, saliva caught in her throat. The words on the page were an order from something, someone that knew more than she did. She could still hear the whispers but couldn’t understand them.

The wind howled again sending her hair whipping covering her face momentarily. Wooden charms rattled violently once more overlapping with the whispers. The ink on the page continued to shift again, new words forming:

“Welcome to the Whispering Grove.”

Another gush of wind came suddenly, stronger than the last pressing against her skin. Then another message appeared:

“Step forward.”

The earth below was damp, almost like stepping into mud but her feet were dry.

Taking a slow shaky step forward, the whispers became a bit clearer, but they weren’t just sounds anymore. They were words, some women, some men. All speaking over each other.

"You have to choose"
"Open the…"
"Sa…"

Then, the voices silenced all at once.

A single voice broke through. Deep, calm, yet urgent.

“Hello, Ella.”

Her stomach twisted. It knew her name.

“Uhm…Hello,” she replied. “Who are you?”

“My name is Thomas Granger, “the voice replied. “I am the Keeper of the Journal you are holding.”

“The Keeper?” Ella’s fingers tightened around the leather-bound book. “From the journal?”

"Yes. And if you’re hearing me… then you are in danger."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

“I don’t understand. What is this place?”

There was a long pause. Then Tom spoke again, his voice sounding distant as if it was carried by the wind.

“This forest is not what you think. The moment you saw the carved symbols, you left the material world. This is not a place bound by time as you understand it. It is a threshold… something ancient and it does not let go easily."

“Wa-wa-wait, am I dead?”

“Not necessarily.”

“What the fuck that does that mean?” Ella’s hands trembled and she started sweating “if I’m not dead then how do I get out?”

“I’ll show you.”

The moment he spoke the words, the journal reacted.

The pages fluttered wildly as if an invisible force was rifling through them. The journal in her hands shuddered, its pages shifting like liquid, ink bleeding through, stretching until the words melted into something else entirely.

A memory.

Ella’s breath hitched and opened her eyes wide as the world around her changed.

[Vision Sequence Begins]

No longer was she in Whispering Grove she had stumbled into. The trees were taller, their branches curling outward. The earth beneath her feet wasn’t damp and cold but dry like freshly turned soil. The charms that now rattled violently in the wind were still here, but they were newer and clean, hanging in precise order, their wooden surfaces freshly carved.

This was the past and she was watching him.

Tom Granger stood in the clearing, his back turned to her. He was younger than she had expected, perhaps in his early thirties, his frame lean but strong. His dark brown hair was slightly unkempt, falling over his forehead in waves. He wore a fitted hiking jacket, sturdy boots, and a thick canvas backpack slung over one shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms scarred with faint scratches—evidence of someone who had been surviving in the wild for some time.

But despite the ruggedness, there was something undeniably handsome about him. A quiet intensity in the way he stood, gripping a leather-bound book and a compass.

Ella tried to move closer, but her feet wouldn’t respond.

She could only watch.

Tom flipped through the pages with frantic hands, scanning them as though they contained the answer to a question he was too afraid to ask aloud.

"Please," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I know you can hear me. Let me go."

“Choose.”

A gust of wind howled through the grove, colder than before.

Tom flinched but stood his ground.

“I need more time,” he continued, his tone desperate now. “I’ve done what you asked, please. Why are you keeping me here?”

A gush of wind blew again as the whispers became louder but Ella could not even hear them.

Tom swallowed hard and gripped tighter on his journal. His expression suddenly changed and he looked right at Ella. No, right through her. She turned and saw a shadow figure standing.

“Open it!”

“No,” he said. “No, I won’t do it even if…”

His voice got cut off and the vision shifted to Tom opening his journal and writing in ink, continuing his entries on which Ella would find years later. Detailing his journey through the forest.

He turned sharply, his eyes searching the shadows between the trees.

Then he stiffened.

“No,” he muttered. “Not yet. You will not leave.”

Ella followed his gaze—and felt something shift in the air.

Beyond the clearing, where the trees twisted unnaturally, the figure moved.

A shadow, not quite human, rippling like a mirage.

Tom stepped back, his breath quickening.

“I must go,” he wrote. “They are coming…”

The whispers surged. Louder and insistent.

Then—darkness swallowed him whole.

Ella gasped as the vision shifted suddenly. She then saw a woman with auburn hair picking up a journal. After realizing she was watching herself the vision shattered bringing her back to the present. The journal was still in her hands, but its pages were still now, not moving.

[Vision Sequence Ends]

Tom’s voice returned, softer this time.

"Now you understand."

Ella shook her head. “You didn’t disappear,” she whispered. “The forest took you.”

“No. It was Him,” Tom said. “And He will take you too, if you don’t find the way out. But the longer you stay, the harder it will be to leave.”

She swallowed, gripping the journal tighter. “Who is he? What do I do?!”

A pause. Then—

“Liste carefully, this is important. I won’t be able to talk to you anymore.”

“Why not? I need all the help I can get.”

“The whispering grove is special. It’s why I can talk to you. I can only guide you through the book from here on. Find my compass, I left it somewhere near where I was taken. It will guide you to the….”

Tom got cut off before he could finish and the wind pushed Ella backwards. She looked back up and could no longer see the Whispering Grove tree, she was now standing on the other side of the stone bridge she used earlier but the bridge itself could not be seen, only water.

The wind came flowing back and the journal was opened in her arms and it read:

“Run.”

“Not this again!”

She bolted as the whispers rose behind her as she tore through the trees.

Then—

She stumbled forward—into daylight.

Ella hit the ground, gasping.

The sun was high. The sky was bright. Birds chirped.

But that was impossible. It had been late afternoon when she entered.

Yet now…

An entire night had passed in the blink of an eye. But now she had a mission, a plan. No more running without a reason. She had to find the compass.