Whistling At Night Novels & Stories

Why does she still have so much grip over him? "Okay," he said, and she grinned. It was one of victory. As they walked past the crowd and headed for the garden, the silence grew more, and finally, there was total silence. Apart from the whistling sound of the birds and the creaking sound of the cricket, a pin could be heard, and their footsteps could be heard. Her painful heel could be heard. They stood before the swimming pool, just behind the house. A howling noise came from the abyss of the night, it wasn't a full moon, but the toenail shape of the moon was enough to give some of the strongest wolves enough strength to shift and attack at night.

Logan was sound asleep in his bed when he heard a faint whispering in his room. He stirred a little, thinking it was just his imagination, but the whispers grew louder, more distinct. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the dark room. Nothing seemed amiss. His window was closed, his door locked, and the curtains were drawn.

Natalia put a finger to her lips, silencing her as the fallen tree groaned in protest with the weight placed by an individual stepping onto it. Nessie and Natalia looked at the shape on the ground before them. A silhouette of a lone man darkened the soil where the dim light from the moon was displayed. From a distance, a faint hoot of an owl was heard before it screeched loudly prior to the forest becoming silent once again. Natalia held her breath, afraid that even the faintest sigh would give them away. Just then, the man started whistling an unfamiliar tune, tapping one of his feet on the fallen tree. It resulted in piles of dirt and dust falling on the siblings, forcing them to hug each

he asked, and I was about to lose my temper when he raised his hands in surrender, "Hear me out, just hear me out. It's nighttime, your nerves were probably high." "How does that explain it grabbing my neck, and it telling me I had no business being here?" "The wind is blowing hard tonight, it must have blown the bone structure in your direction, the whistling leaves must have been the words you heard," he said the words so practically that I almost believed that they were true. Almost. Because I know what I heard, I felt what I felt. There was no way I made all that up just because I didn't like being here at night.

Night was at its peak and the moon shone at its fullest. The streets of Cresthowl pack were deserted and void of life as everyone had retreated into their homes for the night. The Winter Ball was over, and they would soon return to their regular lives. A carriage rode in the silent night, the sound of its rolling wheels being the only sound at that hour. In the rider’s seat was Nick, yanking the reins of the horse as he rode the carriage. He was seemingly in a lightened mood as he whistled away his favourite tune.

a decision that they would soon regret making. “Okay. Let’s just catch the fish and shrimp faster so we could get home quickly,” Uncle Romy anxiously suggested. But just as they were going to start fishing again, the whistling began again. And this time, bigger branches were being hurled at them... “Whoever” was playing that "prank" on them was also beginning to hiss at them. The silence of that night was deafening. The only things that they could hear at that time was the whistling, hissing and the breaking of branches.

Was I really dumb to have trusted Nicholas? While my mind swirled with confusion, the lights in the house suddenly went off, causing me to swivel my gaze around the whole house. Slowly, it came back on in a way that the lights that emanated from the Chandelier began to flicker. "This isn't right" I muttered underneath my breath as fore beads of sweat began tracking down my face. Slowly, a whistling sound that emanated from the outside of the house caused me to freeze as I stood still. The only sound that could be heard was my heart which kept slamming against my ribcage and the sound of the creepy whistling sound.

I would even have a glass of water for him to keep it down. I would wait until he'd fallen asleep before tiptoeing out to wash myself up. Sometimes, I would even stay right next to him, keeping vigil when the alcohol hit him hard. Now, the tender warmth he was used to was gone. Knocks on the door woke William up the next morning. The hangover was still gripping his head tightly, and everything around him was spinning like a demented carousel. He pulled himself up from the couch and wobbled to the entrance.

The scents mingled together, evoking a sense of mystery and ancient secrets concealed within the veils of darkness. The silence of the night was broken only by the symphony of nocturnal creatures. The hoot of an owl resonated through the trees, its haunting call echoing in the distance. Chittering insects filled the air with their rhythmic chorus, their sounds rising and falling like whispers of the night. My rapid breaths reverberated through the stillness, a reminder of his relentless pursuit.

We slid up the pathway quietly, plotting various revenges, feasible and otherwise, as we walked. I was pleased to see that Lisa understood the trick of staying unheard. Whispers are a terrible way to hide your voice when it is quiet. They actually carry farther than a regular voice in the quiet of the night. Simply talking quietly is much more stealthy. Whispers are for crowds or other areas with lots of background noise.