THE PINES WHISPER BACK

Writer : Masum 
Blog: EditorPosts

*A Horror Story*

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Everyone in Marrow Hollow knows the forest is cursed.

They say if you stay quiet long enough among the pines, you’ll hear them whisper your name. They say the trees shift when no one’s looking, rearranging paths to trap you. Some say there’s something older than time buried beneath the roots—something that wakes up when it hears you bleed.

But no one really believes it. Not until it’s too late.

I was one of the skeptics.

When my childhood friend Cody invited me and two others—Lena and Marcos—for a weekend camping trip in Marrow Forest, I agreed without hesitation. We were all burned out twenty-somethings looking to disconnect, drink cheap whiskey by a fire, and maybe find something to laugh about again.

The first day was perfect. Clear skies. Fresh air. We found a clearing nestled deep between the trees—almost too perfect, like the forest wanted us there. We set up our tents, laughed, shared ghost stories. At night, the stars spilled overhead, and we fell asleep to the sound of wind through leaves.

But the second night changed everything.

It started with the wind.

Around midnight, it picked up suddenly—not violent, just... weird. It moved through the trees in a circular pattern, like it was swirling around us instead of through the forest. Lena said it sounded like voices. Cody laughed it off, but I didn’t.

Because I heard it too.

Not words exactly. More like intention. Like something was watching us. Measuring us.

Later that night, I woke up to the sound of someone crying.

I thought it was Lena. But when I peeked out of my tent, she and Marcos were asleep near the fire.

Cody was gone.

I grabbed a flashlight and followed the sound. It led me deeper into the woods, farther than I realized I had walked. The crying turned to muttering. Then laughter. I called his name.

No answer.

Then the light flickered. Died.

And just like that, the forest changed.

The trees were denser. The paths gone. The air was still. Even the insects were silent.

That’s when I saw it—a tree torn open, bark split in spirals like something inside had clawed to get out. Symbols drawn into the dirt. Circles within circles. Human teeth buried in the soil.

And then, a whisper.

My own voice, but deeper.

"You’ve been heard."

I ran. No idea where I was going. I finally crashed into Marcos. He’d come looking for me. Pale. Shaking.

He said he’d found Cody.

Dead.

We raced back to camp. Lena was already packing. She said something tall had been watching her from between the trees—antlers made of branches, a face like bark and skin sewn together.

We left before sunrise. But the forest didn’t want us to.

Every trail looped back. Our compass spun like a toy. And then we saw Cody again—slumped against a tree in a different part of the forest.

His eyes were open.

Smiling.

We made it out. Somehow. It felt like the forest let us go.

But it didn’t end.

---

27 days later.

Lena stopped answering my texts after she said her walls were “breathing.” Marcos vanished.

I woke up one night with pine needles in my bed and muddy footprints in the hallway—bare feet. Mine, but stretched. Wrong.

Then I got a text.

From Marcos.

One word: “Help.” Followed by coordinates.

Deep woods. Nowhere near Marrow.

I followed them.

Something called me back.

The air changed the moment I crossed the tree line. Heavy. Sweet with rot. The whispers started again—only louder this time.

Familiar voices. Cody. Lena. My mother.

The coordinates led to a spiral of bent trees—grown together like a structure. Not built. Formed. Covered in moss and bone charms.

Inside, I found Marcos.

Kneeling in the dark. Eyes black. Skin pale. Mouth open like he was screaming with no sound.

Something stood behind him.

It wasn’t a creature. It was an idea—something that refused to exist correctly. Antlers made of roots. A torso that opened and closed like it was breathing. A face sewn together from pieces of human skin and bark.

And then it spoke.

Not with sound—with thoughts.

"He answered."  

"You followed."  

"Now you belong."

I ran.

---

I woke up in my car.

No idea how I got there. A bone charm tied around my wrist. I didn’t put it on.

And under my skin, near the wrist, something was growing.

Hard. Twisting.

Bark.

The Pines were inside me now.

I tried to warn Lena, but when I found her, she was gone. Body still here, curled in a corner of her apartment, whispering to herself. Roots growing out of her arms. Symbols on the walls. Candles in spirals.

She smiled at me.

"It’s not death," she said. "It’s memory. The Pines carry everything. And now... they carry you."

I couldn’t get out of her apartment. Every door opened to the forest. Every window showed trees.

And something out there watching.

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Now, I don’t fight it.

The whispers are clearer.

They’re teaching me.

Teaching me how to listen. How to move between places. How to hear the true forest—the one behind this reality.

And tonight, I’m going back.

To the spiral. To the thing with the antlered face.

Not to run.

To ask one question:

"What do you want me to do?"

Because I already know the answer.

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**This isn’t the end. It’s just the first root.**