WHISPERS OF THE FORGOTTEN

Chapter 1: The arrival

Aarav Mehra stared out of the car window, watching as the narrow, winding road snaked through the dense, mist-covered forest. The towering deodar trees, their branches heavy with moisture, seemed to close in on them, casting long, shadowy fingers across the path. The sun, now a fading ball of orange, dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in a gloomy twilight.

Meera, sitting beside him in the passenger seat, fiddled with the strap of her camera bag, her fingers betraying a nervous energy she hadn't yet voiced. She glanced at Aarav, her brows knitted in concern. "Are you sure this is the right way? It feels like we've been driving for hours."

Aarav offered a reassuring smile, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. "The directions were clear. The village is remote, yes, but that's what makes it perfect for my research. Besides, think of the stories you'll get to cover here. An ancient temple, forgotten by time, buried in the heart of this forest-there's bound to be something intriguing."

Meera nodded, though the unease in her stomach only deepened. She was a journalist, drawn to stories that others might overlook, but something about this place felt... wrong. The air was too still, the silence too oppressive. Even the usual sounds of the forest-birds chirping, leaves rustling-seemed to have been swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

Their car finally emerged from the forest, revealing a small, secluded village nestled in a valley between the mountains. The houses were old, their walls cracked and weathered, with thatched roofs sagging under the weight of time. The village was eerily quiet, as if the very earth had hushed in anticipation of their arrival.

As Aarav parked the car in the village square, a few villagers emerged from their homes, their faces lined with age and suspicion. They eyed the newcomers warily, whispering among themselves in hushed tones. Aarav stepped out of the car, offering a polite nod to the nearest villager, an elderly man with a hunched back and a walking stick that seemed more like an extension of his frail body.

"Namaste," Aarav greeted, his voice warm and friendly. "We're here to study the ruins near your village. My name is Aarav Mehra, and this is my wife, Meera."

The old man's eyes narrowed as he regarded them. "Namaste," he replied, his voice gravelly and tinged with an accent that hinted at a dialect older than the village itself. "You've come to see the temple?"

Aarav nodded eagerly. "Yes, we've heard a lot about it. The legends, the history-it's fascinating."

The old man shook his head slowly, his expression darkening. "There's nothing fascinating about that place. It's cursed. Many have tried to uncover its secrets, but none have returned the same. You should leave, while you still can."

Aarav exchanged a quick glance with Meera, who had gone pale. "We appreciate your concern," Aarav said carefully, "but we've come a long way. We'd like to stay for a few days, just to explore and learn more about your village's history."

The old man sighed, as if carrying the weight of unspoken tragedies. "If you must stay, then stay. But heed my words-do not go to the temple after dark. The spirits there are restless."

Aarav nodded, trying to appear respectful, though he couldn't hide his skepticism. "Thank you for the warning. We'll be careful."

The old man said nothing more, simply turning away and disappearing into the shadows of his home. The other villagers continued to watch them, their gazes heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.

Meera leaned closer to Aarav as they unloaded their bags from the car. "Did you see how they looked at us? It's like they're expecting something bad to happen."

Aarav chuckled softly, though the tension in his voice was undeniable. "It's just old village superstitions. Places like this are full of ghost stories. But that's all they are-stories. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

Meera wasn't so sure. She looked around at the village, the mountains looming like silent sentinels in the background, and couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them, something ancient and malevolent.

They found their way to the small guesthouse where they would be staying, a modest structure that seemed as old as the village itself. The inside was dimly lit, the walls adorned with faded paintings of gods and goddesses. The caretaker, a woman in her late forties with graying hair and a somber expression, showed them to their room without a word.

The room was simple-a large bed with a heavy, handwoven blanket, a wooden wardrobe that creaked ominously when opened, and a single window that overlooked the village square. The window's glass was thick and wavy, distorting the view of the world outside, making everything seem as if it were underwater.

As Meera unpacked their belongings, Aarav sat by the window, staring out at the village. The few lamps that had been lit cast long, flickering shadows across the square. The villagers had retreated to their homes, and the streets were now empty, save for the stray dogs that wandered aimlessly.

"I know you think it's all just folklore," Meera said, breaking the silence, "but there's something about this place... I can't explain it. It feels like we're not supposed to be here."

Aarav turned to her, his expression softening. "I understand. If it gets too much, we can leave early. But let's give it a couple of days. If there's nothing here, we'll pack up and head back to Delhi."

Meera nodded, though the knot of anxiety in her chest refused to loosen. She tried to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the potential stories she could uncover here. Perhaps there was more to the village than just the temple-maybe there were other, less terrifying legends to explore.

That night, as they lay in bed, the silence of the village seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on them like a thick blanket. Meera could hear the wind rustling through the trees outside, but it was different from the usual sounds of nature. It carried with it a whispering, a low, almost inaudible murmur that sent a shiver down her spine.

She turned to Aarav, who was already asleep, his breathing deep and even. Meera closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep, but the whispers grew louder in her ears, filling her mind with indistinct words and phrases.

*"Leave... go... before it's too late..."*

Her eyes snapped open, heart pounding. She sat up, scanning the room, but there was nothing-just the same dimly lit space, the distorted view through the window, and the oppressive silence. Meera shook her head, trying to clear the lingering echoes from her mind. It was just her imagination, she told herself, a result of the eerie atmosphere and the villagers' warnings.

But as she lay back down, the whispers continued, swirling around her like a cold breeze, and Meera couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

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So guys this is my first time writing a horror novel hope you guys will enjoy it and as always give a little support thankyou 😌💗