Whispers Of Death Novels & Stories

The villagers, their eyes vacant and their spirits broken, seemed lost in the clutches of the whispers. Kairos, channeling his years of experience, ventured deeper into the village, the whispers slithering all around him. He could feel them, this new strain, latching onto his fears and anxieties, weaving them into a tapestry of despair. But Kairos was prepared. He used the whispers as a bridge, allowing them to flow through him, understanding their construction and their intent. Days turned into weeks as Kairos navigated the treacherous landscape of the whispers, learning their secrets. He discovered a chilling truth – this new strain wasn't just manipulative, it was parasitic. It fed off ne

The whispers didn’t stop. They never really did, not even when the lab buzzed with fluorescent lights and the scent of coffee and latex gloves masked everything unnatural. The voices curled under my skin like smoke—soft, persistent, and impossible to ignore. Sometimes I caught pieces of words, names I didn’t recognize, hymns in a language I couldn’t understand. But most of the time, it was just... noise. A sound like breathing too close to my ear. Always there. Always watching.

“Yes, such a lovely gift I’m blessed with. It is very honorable to become a wraith of mine. Right as the host dies I collect their meager little souls and give them a new purpose.” “How can they join the stars without their soul?” I utter completely flabbergasted. His smile broadened, “They don't. If my wraith dies then the spirit is released and they join said stars.” He waved his hand as if waving the thought away. “My Love how are you faring?” I swallowed unable to dismiss the idea of those poor spirits locked away from the afterlife. “I… I’m well. The view is lovely here.” I changed topics quickly.

I whisper and blacked out. TBC

He gasps, and it’s almost a soft sound, a shiver that registers just under my skin, but I press a little harder and soon he has to swallow back the screams. My voice is like a death whisper. “Betrayers deserve to go to hell.”

He was clinging to me with all his strength,so tight like he was about to lose something dear. The healers were frantic and kind of confused, their hands pressing against my scorched and pale skin as they murmured prayers to gods who had never aided me. The tent's air was thick and stifling with heat and cold, saturated with the scent of blood and herbs. And amidst it all? I felt myself fading.Not into death.But into something else, something unexplainableSomething darker. ********* The whispers emerged first.Soft. Somhow Familiar. Did you really think you could kill me, little wolf?My breath caught. No. No, she was gone.

Amidst the radiance of the laughter ringing out from behind the shadows, the gentleness of her voice when she was not taut. The hollow in her eyes. He got a glass of water and glared at the wall between them. And didn't move. There was a noise. Whispery. Muffled. A scream. He pressed his ear against the wall. A scream—a long gasp for breath. But unmistakably Sienna's. His heart skipped a beat. Not going to be swayed, he pulled on his hoodie, hauling it down over his head, and moved stealthily out into the corridor.

A most evil sound meant to taunt and torment. “My little rabbit has fell into my trap.” I hear him say as I see the sweeping light of a flashlight skim over the top of the hole. He approaches the edge of the hole and past the light shining down, I can see a faint silhouette of his body, dressed all in black. “I didn’t even have to throw you down here like the others.” He says with an ominous chuckle. “You came willingly. Fell right into your own grave. Oh the irony!”

A whisper that wasn't by voice. And tonight, it showed me something that I couldn't escape. It started with smoke— it was thick, black, and curling like serpents across the ground. I was standing on a cracked path of scorched earth, the sky a scary swirl of red and grey. The air hummed like something alive. I didn't know this place but something in me said I did. Death Hollow. It whispered. The forbidden wasteland where no life grows. Where bones sink into the black soil and never rise again. Where the dead don’t rest—they wait.

Every detail felt heightened. Precious. Temporary. The thought gutted me. I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t get to die,” I whispered. “I won’t survive it.” She shifted slightly, leaning toward my touch even in sleep. My heart cracked open. “I’d burn this world,” I murmured. “I’d burn everything. Don’t make me do it.” But somewhere deep inside me— beneath the fury, beneath the devotion— I felt it. Not a voice.