Whispers in the woods

The Descent

The well loomed ahead, the same dark, yawning abyss that had swallowed Sarah and countless others before her. The whispers were strongest here, as if the well itself was the source of the malevolent force that had plagued Hollow Creek for generations. Lana knew that whatever power the forest held, it was tied to this place.

The air around her felt thick, oppressive, as she stepped closer to the edge. The moonlight cast an eerie glow over the stone rim, and the wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the voices of the dead. Lana stared down into the blackness below, her heart pounding in her chest. Every instinct told her to turn back, to leave this cursed place behind once and for all. But she couldn't. Not until it was over. 

She took a deep breath and climbed over the edge of the well, gripping the old, crumbling stones as she began her descent. The darkness closed in around her descent. The darkness closed in around her, the whispers growing louder with each step she took deeper into the earth.

''Lana.... come home.''

Her mother's voice echoed through the blackness, soft and tender just like how she remembered it, just as it had been the night she disappeared. But Lana knew better now. This wasn't her mother. It was the forest, using her voice, her memories, to lure her deeper into its trap. She ignored it and kept climbing down, her hands raw and bleeding from the stone. The air grew colder the further she descended, and the whispers turned into an angry roar, like the forest itself was furious at her defiance.

Finally, her feet touched the ground, and she stood in the bottom of the well. It was darker than she had imagined, the air thick with moisture and the scent of decay. In the centre of the well was something ancient, something pulsing with malevolent energy. A stone altar, covered in bloodstains and symbols carved into the rock. This was the source, the heart of the forest's dark power.

As she approached, the whispers became almost unbearable, but Lana pressed on. She knew what had to be done. The forest needed a vessel, a conduit for its malevolence. But without one, without someone to carry out its will, the cycle would break.

Lana reached into her pocket, pulling out the lighter she had brought with her. She flicked it on, the small flame casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of the well. She pulled out a small cask of gasoline as she came prepared, she poured it all over the altar, drenching it in fuel.

The whispers screamed now, furious and desperate, begging her to stop. But Lana didn't hesitate. With one final flick of her wrist, she dropped the lighter onto the altar. The flames roared to life, consuming the altar in fiery blaze. The air around her seemed to tremble, the ground shaking beneath her feet as the fire spread, burning away the symbols, the blood, the dark energy that had fuelled the forest's curse for so long.

The whispers grew louder, a deafening roar of fury and pain, and then suddenly, they stopped. Silence fell over the well, over the forest, over Hollow Creek.

Lana stared at the flames, watching as the dark power that had haunted her life, that had claimed so many before her, was finally destroyed.