They thought it would be a perfect escape.
Four friends.
A remote forest.
No signals. No people. Just stars, fire, and stories.
They reached the campground by evening, set up their tents, lit a fire, and began drinking and laughing.
It was all fun—until the forest fell silent.
No wind.
No crickets.
Not even rustling leaves.
Just silence.
"Do you guys hear that?" Sarah whispered.
"Hear what?" Daniel asked.
"Exactly. Nothing."
The fire flickered low.
They laughed it off—blamed it on the creepy woods.
But deep inside, something had changed.
That night, one by one, they began to hear whispers.
Soft.
Too soft to understand.
But clear enough to know—it wasn't their imagination.
The whispers came from the trees.
From the dark.
From behind the tents.
Daniel stepped out with a flashlight. "Probably animals," he said.
The beam cut through the trees—and caught a pair of eyes.
No, not one. Dozens.
Blinking. Watching.
He blinked. The eyes were gone.
The next morning, he was missing.
They searched everywhere, calling his name.
His tent was untouched.
But the whispering had grown louder.
One by one, they vanished.
By the third night, only Sarah was left.
Eyes bloodshot. Hands trembling.
The whispers now spoke her name.
"Sarah… Sarah… come closer…"
And she did.
The forest opened.
And what stood inside—was Daniel.
But not Daniel.
His face was stretched.
His eyes… too many.
His mouth whispered a hundred voices at once.
"Join us."
She screamed.
But the forest muffled it.
Swallowed it.
By dawn, their campsite was empty.
Only ash.
Only silence.
A ranger found the place two days later.
Tents torn. No blood. No tracks. No footprints.
He looked around and said,
"Another group taken by the woods."
---
Some forests don't want visitors.
And when you camp where they whisper—
You never leave.