Whistling At Night Novels & Stories

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.

Then the whispering started. It happens at 3:17 AM, every night. I wake up to a soft sound, like a child humming. The sound comes from the shelf. I lie in bed, frozen, listening to that tiny voice try to form words. It can't. The syllables are wet, gurgling, like someone learning to speak with a mouth full of water. "Paul," I whispered last week. "Do you hear that?" He rolled over, listened, shook his head. "Just the pipes."

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.

Jessy and Ethan had both fallen asleep back at the apartment, and I… well, I slipped out. Not my smartest decision, but the thought of sitting still in that cozy living room while my chest ached felt unbearable. I wanted noise. Chaos. Anything but the silence inside me. I’d just turned down a dimmer street when the sound of whistles broke through. There aren’t a lot of people, which made it less conscious for me to walk around. I didn’t like people looking at me in such a state. “Well, well. Look what we’ve got here,” a voice drawled.