Part 2 — The Voice in the Woods
(Part 1) ➡️ https://storiesworld.us/archives/9990
For the next several days, the father tried convincing himself that his daughter’s experience had been nothing more than a dream.
Children imagined things.
Moving to a new home could be stressful.
A strange environment, unfamiliar sounds, and a bedroom facing an enormous forest could easily create nightmares.
At least, that was the explanation he chose to believe.
The problem was that he found himself thinking about it far more often than he wanted to admit.
Every evening he caught himself looking toward the tree line.
Every evening he noticed how quickly darkness swallowed the forest.
Back in New York, darkness had never truly existed. Streetlights illuminated every road. Apartment windows glowed through the night. Even at two in the morning, the city never completely slept.
The mountains were different.
When the sun disappeared behind them, the darkness felt alive.
It didn’t merely cover the landscape.
It consumed it.
The woods beyond the property became an endless black wall stretching toward the horizon.
There were nights when the father would stand on the porch and stare into that darkness, feeling as though the forest extended forever.
He began noticing things he had previously ignored.
The strange silence that occasionally settled over the valley.
The way birds seemed to disappear shortly before sunset.
The way local people always appeared eager to get indoors before nightfall.
Each observation seemed insignificant on its own.
Together, however, they created an uncomfortable feeling he couldn’t quite explain.
About a week after his daughter’s experience, he found himself alone on the porch late one evening.
His wife had gone to bed.
The children were asleep.
A cool breeze moved through the valley, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.
For a while, everything felt perfectly normal.
Then he heard his name.
At first he thought it came from inside the house.
Perhaps his wife needed something.
Perhaps one of the children had woken up.
He turned toward the door.
Nobody was there.
Several seconds passed.
Then he heard it again.
This time the sound clearly came from outside.
From the woods.
The voice was soft.
High-pitched.
Childlike.
The father froze.
His name echoed through the darkness one more time.
Slowly he stepped off the porch and scanned the property.
Nothing moved.
The fields remained empty.
The tree line stood motionless.
The voice came again.
This time it sounded slightly farther away.
Almost as if whoever was speaking had taken several steps deeper into the forest.
The father felt a chill move through him.
There was something profoundly unsettling about the situation.
A child had no reason to be wandering through miles of Appalachian woodland after dark.
Yet the voice didn’t sound frightened.
It wasn’t crying.
It wasn’t asking for help.
Instead, it sounded cheerful.
Friendly.
Inviting.
“Come here.”
The words drifted through the darkness.
The father stared toward the trees.
Every instinct told him something was wrong.
Still, a small part of him wondered whether someone genuinely needed assistance.
What if a child had become lost?
What if ignoring the voice meant leaving someone in danger?
The thought lingered long enough that he took several steps across the yard.
Immediately the voice called again.
This time it sounded farther away.
As though it wanted him to continue following.
The realization stopped him cold.
The voice wasn’t trying to come toward him.
It was trying to lead him somewhere.
That single thought sent a wave of unease through his body.
Without another word, he turned around, returned to the porch, and locked the front door behind him.
Sleep did not come easily that night.
The next morning he drove into town.
He told himself he needed supplies for the property, but deep down he knew the real reason.
He wanted answers.
The local hardware store seemed like the best place to start.
Several older residents were gathered near the front counter drinking coffee and discussing local news.
The father casually joined the conversation.
For a while, they spoke about weather, road conditions, and hunting season.
Eventually he mentioned hearing something in the woods.
The reaction was immediate.
The conversation stopped.
Not gradually.
Not awkwardly.
Completely.
Every person in the store seemed to become interested in something else.
One man suddenly examined a display of tools.
Another focused on his coffee.
A third quietly walked away.
The father laughed nervously.
“Come on,” he said. “It was probably just a kid.”
Nobody responded.
Finally, an older man standing near the register sighed heavily.
The man looked as though he had spent his entire life in the mountains.
Weathered skin.
Gray beard.
Hands rough from decades of labor.
He stared at the father for several seconds before speaking.
“If you hear something calling from the woods after dark,” he said quietly, “don’t answer it.”
The father waited for the rest of the explanation.
None came.
“What was it?” he asked.
The old man shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Was it an animal?”
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
The old man glanced toward the front windows before answering.
“Whatever it is, you don’t answer it.”
The conversation ended there.
No matter how many questions the father asked, nobody seemed willing to provide additional details.
The entire encounter left him feeling frustrated.
And yet the expressions on their faces troubled him.
These weren’t people telling ghost stories for entertainment.
They genuinely believed what they were saying.
Or perhaps more disturbing, they genuinely feared it.
That evening he returned home carrying more questions than answers.
The sun began setting shortly after dinner.
As darkness settled over the valley, he found himself staring toward the forest once again.
The tree line looked exactly the same as it always had.
Silent.
Still.
Ordinary.
Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the warning.
For the first time since moving to Virginia, he made sure every door was locked before nightfall.
And sometime after midnight, he would discover that the voice in the woods was only the beginning.
(Part 3) ➡️ https://storiesworld.us/archives/9993