Collin Bishop-Karney

It was a soft sound, almost like a breeze rustling through the leaves, but not quite. It was too rhythmic, too deliberate. I looked towards the woods, and Dash, who had been lying beside me, perked up his ears. He heard it too. His hackles rose, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

It was a soft sound, almost like a breeze rustling through the leaves, but not quite. It was too rhythmic, too deliberate. I looked towards the woods, and Dash, who had been lying beside me, perked up his ears. He heard it too. His hackles rose, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

i strained my ears trying to catch the words but they were elusive just out of reach as if the woods were talking amongst themselves but didn't want me to understand i told my parents about the whispers that night my mother laughed Said it must be the wind, and my father just smiled and ruffled my hair. It's just your imagination, sweetheart, they said. But I knew it wasn't. Dash knew it too.

i strained my ears trying to catch the words but they were elusive just out of reach as if the woods were talking amongst themselves but didn't want me to understand i told my parents about the whispers that night my mother laughed Said it must be the wind, and my father just smiled and ruffled my hair. It's just your imagination, sweetheart, they said. But I knew it wasn't. Dash knew it too.

He would stare into the dark corners of the house at times, his gaze following something invisible, something that moved in the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but the feeling of being watched never went away. As I got older, I spent more and more time in those woods. They were vast, stretching as far as I could see, a tangle of trees and underbrush that seemed to go on forever.

He would stare into the dark corners of the house at times, his gaze following something invisible, something that moved in the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but the feeling of being watched never went away. As I got older, I spent more and more time in those woods. They were vast, stretching as far as I could see, a tangle of trees and underbrush that seemed to go on forever.

During the day, they were beautiful, sunlight filtering through the leaves, the scent of pine and earth all around me. But there were places that felt wrong, places where the air was cold, even on the warmest days, where the birds didn't sing and the ground seemed to be still. Dash would always growl at those places, his ears flattening, and he would press close to me as if urging me to leave.

During the day, they were beautiful, sunlight filtering through the leaves, the scent of pine and earth all around me. But there were places that felt wrong, places where the air was cold, even on the warmest days, where the birds didn't sing and the ground seemed to be still. Dash would always growl at those places, his ears flattening, and he would press close to me as if urging me to leave.

The whispers grew louder as the years passed. By the time I was eight, I could hear them clearly, especially at night. They would rise and fall like a conversation, voices that seemed almost familiar but were twisted, wrong. I never told my parents again. I knew they wouldn't believe me. Instead, I tried to ignore them. Tried to convince myself it was just the wind, just my imagination.

The whispers grew louder as the years passed. By the time I was eight, I could hear them clearly, especially at night. They would rise and fall like a conversation, voices that seemed almost familiar but were twisted, wrong. I never told my parents again. I knew they wouldn't believe me. Instead, I tried to ignore them. Tried to convince myself it was just the wind, just my imagination.

But deep down I knew better. The woods were alive and something in them was watching me. Dash knew too. He would sit by my bed at night, his eyes fixed on the window, his body tense. Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night and I would see him staring, his eyes following something I couldn't see, something just beyond the glass.

But deep down I knew better. The woods were alive and something in them was watching me. Dash knew too. He would sit by my bed at night, his eyes fixed on the window, his body tense. Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night and I would see him staring, his eyes following something I couldn't see, something just beyond the glass.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I would hear my name whispered from the darkness outside. The air was different that day. It was the kind of day where the woods seemed darker, even with the sun hanging high in the sky. There was something heavy about it, an energy that clung to the air like the humid thickness before a storm.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I would hear my name whispered from the darkness outside. The air was different that day. It was the kind of day where the woods seemed darker, even with the sun hanging high in the sky. There was something heavy about it, an energy that clung to the air like the humid thickness before a storm.

I didn't want to admit it, but I felt it, gnawing at the edges of my mind. And from the way Dash kept pausing, his ears flicking and his nose twitching, I knew he felt it too. Dash and I had ventured deeper into the woods than usual. It had been my idea, something inside me telling me I needed to see more, push farther.

I didn't want to admit it, but I felt it, gnawing at the edges of my mind. And from the way Dash kept pausing, his ears flicking and his nose twitching, I knew he felt it too. Dash and I had ventured deeper into the woods than usual. It had been my idea, something inside me telling me I needed to see more, push farther.

It was as if the woods themselves had called me that day, and curiosity had gotten the better of my sense of caution. Dash ran ahead, his familiar silhouette weaving between the tree trunks. He always checked back, turning every few moments to make sure I was still there, a reassuring presence amid the wild tangle of branches and shadows. But that day, I let my attention wander.

It was as if the woods themselves had called me that day, and curiosity had gotten the better of my sense of caution. Dash ran ahead, his familiar silhouette weaving between the tree trunks. He always checked back, turning every few moments to make sure I was still there, a reassuring presence amid the wild tangle of branches and shadows. But that day, I let my attention wander.

I can't remember exactly what it was. A strange patch of mushrooms, a tree scarred with deep claw marks, that caught my focus, but I lingered for too long.

I can't remember exactly what it was. A strange patch of mushrooms, a tree scarred with deep claw marks, that caught my focus, but I lingered for too long.