Whistling At Night Novels & Stories

The march toward the Standing Stones was not a journey; it was a slow-motion collision. Three hundred of the Nightfang’s finest warriors moved through the Whispering Canyon, their paws muffled by the thick carpet of autumn needles. Above them, the sky was a bruised violet, heavy with the promise of a storm that had been brewing since the moment Aeron drew his first breath.

“Who the hell are those people?Ethan sobbed ,his head tucked between his knees. “Noah, what the hell is that sound?” The sound was back. That whistling, screaming noise of the bullets. They were flying past the windows, leaving trails of shimmering white smoke in the air. Every time one got close, the “gold” in my head flared up, a blinding flash of warning that made my teeth ache.

I whispered back. The cold night air bit into my skin as I stepped out of the house, the thump of bass still shaking the walls behind me. Laughter spilled through the open doors, sharp and wild, cutting through the night like a blade. My chest burned, and I didn’t know if it was from the whiskey I’d swallowed or from the way his eyes had followed me across that room all night.

Their thick leaves blocked most of the light from streaming through. “Way to think things through, Raelynn.” I growled. The sound of my voice had me stiffening. I had tuned out the forest around me while talking to the Whisp, a mistake I now realize. It was silent, utterly silent. In my short time at the village, a number of creatures emerged during the cool hours of the night. You could hear thousands of creatures going about their lives, and rarely was it ever silent. The silence was deafening, making my ears ring and my sweat turn cold.

The cricket chanted its song as the night grew slowly into an adult. Somewhere on a tree, in the veil of the night where the eyes of light feared to tread, the hooting of an owl could be heard as it mellowed the cricket’s noise into a duster of goose-bump.

Regardless of the misery I’d suffered. The wind blew and I began swaying. “What are you doing?” He asked. The hint of amusement in his voice. “Dancing to the music. Don’t you hear it?” “What?” His voice rose. “The song playing.” “There’s nothing but the wind, Fiere.” He chuckled. “And the crickets. And the owls. And the bats. They all sing together.” He was quiet a minute before harrumphing. “I guess they do.” I turned, swaying side to side to the beat of it. “Water in the distance. Hitting the rocks. Swish. Swish. Swish.”

Leaves rustled softly, their whispers like echoes of ancient tales concealed within the depths of the forest. The night air carried a symphony of sounds, a nocturnal serenade that added to the enchantment of the scene. The gentle hooting of an owl punctuated the stillness, while the distant murmur of a nearby stream contributed to its soothing melody. Leaves rustled under the soft footfalls of nocturnal creatures, their presence a reminder of the vibrant life hidden within the undergrowth.

Emily lay on her bed and closes her eyes, she listens to the chirping sounds of the birds outside her apartment. Three am in the morning, the door to her room creaks. Emily jolts up from her tiny bed, she looks around, nothing. She secure her robe tightly in front of her waist when she drops her cold feet on the floor. The floor creaks under her weight, Emily search for her phone and turns on the flashlight. She moves around her small apartment checking if someone wants to break in. When she was done with her investigation, she went back to bed. The whooping sounds of the wind pushes her window open. The air in Emily's room becomes still.

She glimpsed at the sky and gulped at the way the moonless sky gawked back at her. She looked away and proceeded on her artery, waddling closer and closer to the pack horizon. The night was vague, it was nearly sullen with the sound of the night cricket singing, the whistling sound of the wind against branches, and the invigorating wind that scrubbed against her flushed cheeks. A gasp left her lips and she swiftly whirled on her feet when she heard the breaking sound of a branch but only the darkness stared at her, reminding her of a dark pit she would soon fall under if she was not fast enough.

It was opaque, dusky, if it hadn't been for the brilliant moon that glistened up in the night sky, she was sure she would be galloping straight into trees. She scampered deeper into the woody heaven, rushing on her paws. The whistling sound of the wing around the trucks was brutal and it slapped severely on her cheeks, snapping of branches, crinkly floors and the twigs were crunching under her paw could be heard, followed by her panting breathes.