Whispering Vine Novels & Stories

Gasping and pulling at the vines with whatever they had left and not getting anywhere. “Release them!” I commanded like they would actually listen to me. But then the whispering started. I couldn't hear it clearly. It was like hearing a conversation through a wall, just the shape of words without the words themselves, but I could feel it through the bond, whatever they were hearing, and it was designed to break something. I could feel that much. The vines weren't just strangling them. They were saying things directly into their heads and whatever those things were they were personal and they were cruel and I could feel the edges of it and it made me sick.

“I am Byron, and I will be guiding you to the priest. Please follow me.” As they walked and climbed, the forest grew denser, and when they finally arrived at the location, Willow's mouth dropped. Wes was equally enthralled. A waterfall that was surrounded by the environment's lush greenery appeared. They were enveloped by the sounds of nature, including owls, crickets, chirping birds, and rustling leaves. "You must go through the waterfall," Byron said before taking his leave. "How... we're going to get all wet..." Willow whispered but continued to follow Wes.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed forward until I spotted a dense thicket of bushes. I squirmed into a shallow crevice between two large boulders, the soft earth between them cushioning my body as I lay perfectly still. The sharp scent of trees and damp earth filled my nostrils, and I strained to make out Vincent's voice as it filtered through the thick foliage. He was calling for me, his words punctuated by the crackling of branches being trampled by his men as they swept through the vineyard. "You can't hide forever," Vincent sing-songed, his voice close enough to scare me.

Every leaf shriveled in seconds, black veins creeping like spiderwebs before the plant collapsed into nothing. The soldier gasped. My mother froze. “Lyra,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What did you…” “I don’t know.” I stepped back quickly, hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to. I just…” But the vines were dead. All of them. Every stem I had touched turned brittle as bone. And in the silence that followed, I heard it again. A whisper. Soft. Sinister. Mine. I turned sharply, scanning the air, but no one was there. Just the dying rustle of petals at my feet.

I’m quickly learning that love is messy and complicated. I stepped out of the bathroom and listened intently to see if I detected any sounds in the house. The only thing I could hear was the deafening roar of silence and the beating of my heart in my ears. I softly and slowly stepped back down the hall, careful to not make any noise. As I entered the kitchen, I could hear Vanessa still talking outside. I exhaled the air I had been holding in as I crept slowly toward the back door so I could hear better.

Avery's venom-filled voice echoed through the entire room. "Michael Kent, you can't do this! I love you so much! I've loved you ever since I saw you on the first day in college! "What does Wendy White have that I don't? How is she better than me? To stay with you forever, I was willing to endure this weak little body! I even became your daughter! How can you treat me like this?!" Avery screamed hysterically, even tearing her spirit away from Ava's body. All we saw was a mass of black mist.

Just a lingering hand on hers and a smile. "Next time," he whispered. The next time came a week later. He took her on a drive to a small vineyard an hour outside the city. It was late afternoon. They parked near a field of wildflowers and walked between rows of grapevines, their fingers brushing but not yet entwined. Davina spotted a farmhouse and asked if they could stop. He agreed, and they returned to the car, sitting side by side with the windows down. She adjusted her seat, struggling with the lever.

“But let’s go anyway.” They entered the forest. The path sloped downward, the trees growing denser and darker the farther they walked. By the time the sun dipped behind the hills, the sound of distant water reached their ears—a slow, sloshing murmur that grew louder with every step. Soon, the trees thinned, revealing a horizon of mist. The Whispering Marsh. A vast expanse of shallow, shifting waters stretched out before them, lit by pockets of eerie blue fungi clinging to twisted roots. Thin fog curled over the marsh surface, drifting in serpent-like trails. Every few seconds, Lyra heard faint whispers—soft voices carried on the wind.

I had no idea where to find him, so I stood outside the prison gates where Trevis had been incarcerated for years. That day, many inmates were released after serving their sentences, but I never saw the person I longed to see. As night fell, I left. The years of longing and unexpressed emotions had almost driven me crazy. So, I began to write, using my few memories to document our story. I titled it "Whispers Across the Moon." It was published in my senior year. The story of a young girl's innocent and unrequited love moved countless readers to tears and touched many hearts.

Maybe— The man reached out, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before trailing his fingers down her arm. Sienna tilted her head slightly, letting the touch linger, her body language relaxed, almost inviting. Then she whispered something, her voice too low for Ethan to catch, but whatever she said made the man chuckle—a deep, indulgent sound that made Ethan’s skin prickle with unease.