Ben walked along the narrow path, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots being the only sound in the stillness. The forest around him was unusually quiet, the tall trees standing like silent towers under the pale, cloudless sky. It wasn't a familiar place, but it felt like somewhere he had been before, like a memory he couldn't quite place. The air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. The path stretched ahead of him, winding gently through the trees, disappearing into the soft haze that clung to the horizon. There was no hurry. No destination. Just the quiet, and the slow, steady rhythm of his steps.
Ben wasn't sure how long he had been walking, or why. It felt as though time had slipped away, like the hours had blended together into one long, continuous moment. But he didn't mind. The walk was peaceful, and the quiet felt soothing, like the world had paused just for him. As he walked, his thoughts wandered, drifting like the mist that hung in the air. He thought of his mother - her laugh, her warmth, the way she used to sing softly to herself while cooking dinner in the evenings. He could almost hear her voice now, faint and distant, as if she was just out of sight, behind the trees, or just beyond the next bend in the path. It had been years since she passed, but the ache of her absence lingered, a dull pain that never really went away. He didn't think about her often, not like this, but something about the quiet path made the memories surface, made him long for the sound of her voice. He tried to recall the tune she used to hum, but it was like chasing after a fading dream, slipping away just as it came into focus.
Ahead, the path opened into a small clearing. A single bench stood at its center, weathered and worn, as if it had been sitting there for years, waiting for someone to find it. Ben approached slowly, his steps growing softer on the grass that lined the edge of the clearing. He hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the bench, his eyes drifting up to the sky. The sun was low now, casting a warm, golden light over the trees. The shadows stretched long across the clearing, and the air seemed to hum with a quiet energy, like the world was holding its breath.
Ben closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the warmth of the fading sunlight wash over him. The silence deepened, and in that stillness, he heard it again - her voice, faint and distant, singing the melody he couldn't quite place. It was barely more than a whisper, but it was there, threading through the quiet like a memory come to life. He tried to listen more closely, but the song remained elusive, always just out of reach, like a misty lullaby that faded with the morning light. For a moment, he wondered if she was really there, if somehow, in this quiet place, the barrier between them had thinned. He had heard stories about that - about places where the past and present could touch, where the living could feel the presence of those they had lost.
But it was just a feeling. Just a whisper of a memory.
Ben's gaze drifted to the edge of the clearing, where a path led deeper into the woods. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it seemed to call to him, pulling at something deep inside. Without thinking, he stood and followed it, his feet carrying him forward as if they had a mind of their own. The trees grew thicker here, the path narrower, winding between tall, ancient trunks that rose like pillars on either side. The air was cooler, the light dimmer, and the silence felt heavier, pressing in around him like a soft weight. As he walked, the whispering grew louder. It wasn't just his mother's voice now, it was something else, something older, a chorus of quiet murmurs that filled the air like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. He couldn't understand the words, but the sound was comforting, familiar in a way he couldn't explain.
He rounded a bend in the path, and there, in a small grove bathed in soft, golden light, stood a single tree. Its branches were bare, but from its roots grew a cluster of vibrant, orange flowers, their petals glowing softly in the fading light. Ben stopped, staring at the flowers in quiet awe. There was something otherworldly about them, something that filled the air around them with some unknown energy. He knelt down, reaching out to touch one of the petals. It was soft, almost like silk, and its scent filled his senses with a sweetness that was both calming and intoxicating. For a moment, everything else faded away. The whispers, the quiet path, the memories of his mother - none of it mattered. All that existed was this moment, this place, and the strange, beautiful flower in his hand. But then, as quickly as the peace had settled over him, it broke. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and a deep unease crept into Ben's chest. He stood, backing away from the flowers, his heart pounding as the air around him grew cold.
The sun had almost disappeared now, and the shadows were closing in, wrapping around the trees like a dark, suffocating fog. The path behind him was gone, swallowed by the mist, and the once peaceful clearing felt suddenly oppressive, like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. Ben turned and ran, his footsteps echoing through the silent forest. The whispers followed him, growing louder with each step, until they were all he could hear, drowning out everything else. His legs were burning as he pushed himself faster, desperate to escape the crushing silence, the weight of the unseen presence that now seemed to chase him through the trees. No matter how fast he ran, the path seemed endless. The trees closed in around him, the shadows growing darker, deeper, until he could no longer see the way ahead.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.
Ben stumbled to a halt, the world around him falling silent once more. The whispers were gone, the path was gone, and the forest was nothing but darkness. He stood there, chest heaving, his heart racing in the quiet. The flowers, the whispers, the strange pull of the path - it all felt like a dream now, a hazy, distant memory that was already beginning to fade. But as he looked around, searching for some sign of where to go next, he caught a faint scent in the air, a sweetness that lingered, like the ghost of a memory, just out of reach.
And in the quiet, he heard her voice once more, so faint it was almost lost to the wind.
"You can only dream of where the lost ones go..."
The words echoed in his mind, soft and distant, but somehow, they felt like a promise.
