Whispers Of Willow Creek Novels & Stories

Outside, the sun was going down, orange light through the curtain cracks fading to blue. Then we heard it. Not a truck. Howls. One from Wolf Creek, long and low. Harlan’s howl. Then an answering howl from the north, from past North Ridge, from the woods where the Old Oak was supposed to stand. Deeper. Older. Then another from the east. Then west. They were circling. Jax stopped yelling and went to the window, lifted the curtain a crack, and looked. His shoulders went rigid, every muscle tight.

"There are voices of people that linger when their lives are unjustly taken from this earth," Crystal said. "Voices of blood, and people who can't get justice for themselves. These voices belong to the souls of the dead, and the innocent. They can haunt you, torment you, and even try to kill you if they are strong enough. They are like air. They can't be seen. They can't be touched. They can be felt, but mostly through one's hearing. They glide in the air. The strong wind can stop them, and so can fire. Nature doesn't necessarily stop them, but anything too loud for you to hear them can temporarily stop them. And that is why they are called whispers.

That, along with Dante's presence, was enough for her. Willow stood beside the stream and shut her eyes. She listened to the rushing of water over tiny pebbles. The whistle of the wind through the branches. The rustle of the leaves of the canopy. Willow spread her arms out away from her sides with her palms facing outward. The breeze grazed her cheeks, her nose and her neck. It ruffled her black locks. She shifted her focus inward into herself. Each breath inhaled and exhaled through her lungs. The steady heartbeat in her chest. The white energy that pulsed deeper past her heart. She imagined reaching out to it and grabbing it gently, like it was this delicate being.

I needed to gather information discreetly, piece together the puzzle, and unmask this imposter. With each step, I scanned the surroundings, listening for any unfamiliar sounds or whispers in the wind. I questioned pack members discreetly, trying to gauge if they had noticed anything out of the ordinary. But most of them seemed unaware of the imposter's presence, "Of course, what were you even thinking? They don't even know about your imposter's existence." Willow said and sighed at my stupidity. As I delved deeper into the pack territory, my instincts led me to a secluded clearing. It was a place where I often sought solace, a hidden sanctuary where the sounds of nature enveloped me, offerin

"They wouldn't be wrong." Dimitri glanced over at his friend with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. "True. I guess I hoped people would scent the fire and wander over to see what was happening, just to tell me how stupid I was. I guess the residents of Bull Creek just aren't that curious." "They're skeptical and for good reason," a male's voice sounded from the edge of the clearing just as they heard the rustling of dry leaves on the ground. "They haven't exactly had anyone looking out for their best interests over the last few months."

Their mother remained calm and stepped out a little then responded to the Chief enthusiastically, “Steve! It’s nice to see you again. How–” “Catherine Morgan, please refrain from talking and I would appreciate it if you would just come with us obediently!” Chief Whitlock said domineeringly. “On what grounds, are you arresting me with Steve?” Catherine said and still played innocently. Chief Steve Whitlock smirked and said, “If I have to tell you, I’ll be finished by tomorrow!” Then he started to come closer to her. Catherine was becoming aware of her surroundings and when Chief Steve got closer she then said, “Stop Steve!”

she nervously laughed, trying to mask her fear of falling off. He didn't say anything. They were out of the woods now and onto the road, where Wes increased the speed. Willow guided him on the road and took him in the same direction that she and Kairav had been in a few days ago. She instructed Wes to stop when she noticed the recognizable tents and groups of performers. She led him to the last tent after he parked the motorcycle. She and Wes walked into the tent, but Wes remained standing while she took a seat. He had the same reaction as Willow when she first saw the fourteen-year-old-looking witch, but he was able to hide it because of the warning she had given him earlier.

Again the sound of barking dogs reaches my ears only louder as if the barking was coming from right above me. “HEEEEEELLLPPPP” I yell out with as much force as my now sore lungs can muster. “HEEEEELLLLLLLLLPPPPPP MMMEEE” i keep yelling with all i have praying that they find me and help me. Times passes and the barking has now stopped, the only thing I hear is silence, just as I had started to give up hope a small sound of what I think was steal hitting rocks echo’s around me then slowly I start to see sparks of light until it blinds me.

We shared a silent understanding, a bond forged through years of friendship and now evolving into something more. The weight of our decision hung in the air, but neither of us faltered. We were ready to embrace the challenges that awaited us, to chase our dreams and create a future of our own. As the van hummed along the open road, I watched the scenery change, nature's canvas transforming with every passing moment. The bustling cityscape gave way to rolling hills and picturesque valleys. It was as if the landscape mirrored the journey of our own lives, the bustling streets replaced by wide-open spaces, inviting us to explore the vast expanse of possibilities.

But if you listen closely, it’s more rhythmic, more intentional, like hushed conversations. “You hear that?” Willow nudges me. “The whispers?” I ask with a knowing smile. “Humans like to think they’re echoes of those who perished in a fire here ages ago. But they’re wrong.” “So, what’s the real story, Mr. Know-It-All?” she asks, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Well,” I start, whispering conspiratorially. “This alley is a popular hangout for fairies. They communicate in frequencies most can’t hear. What we’re hearing is just a fraction of their conversations.”