Whispers in the Woods

It was a cold, moonless night in a small town on the outskirts of Oregon, where dense forests hugged the lonely roads. Naree Sukkasem stumbled out of the dimly lit bar, her heels clicking unevenly against the cracked pavement. Her long black hair, usually smooth and sleek, now clung to her face in messy strands. Her makeup was smudged from tears, and her once-bright brown eyes were glassy from alcohol and grief.

This was her first time drinking, and she hated every second of it.

“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered, her soft Thai accent slurring her words. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

The breakup. The isolation. Her dreams of making it big in America crushed under the weight of endless disappointments. She’d thought the alcohol might numb the pain. Instead, it only made her feel more vulnerable.

“Why did I even come here…” she whispered, shivering in the chilly air. She hugged her coat closer and looked at the empty street. Her car was parked a few blocks away, near the edge of the woods.

The bartender had warned her not to walk alone at night. This area had strange stories. People disappearing. A local legend about something hunting the forest. But Naree didn’t care. She didn’t believe in folklore, and she certainly didn’t care what happened to her right now.

“Just get to the car,” she told herself, her breath misting in the air.

The streets were eerily quiet. Not even the hum of distant traffic. Only the crunch of her boots on gravel and the occasional rustle of leaves.

As she approached the woods, the silence deepened. It was oppressive, almost alive.

Then she heard it. A soft, almost playful whistle coming from the trees.

Naree froze. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She squinted into the darkness. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No answer.

She shook her head, muttering, “Just drunk… hearing things.”

She kept walking, her steps quicker now, but the whistle came again—closer this time. It wasn’t cheerful. It was hollow, mocking, and it sent a chill down her spine.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling.

The whistle turned into a low growl, a sound so unnatural it made her stomach churn. She spun around, her eyes darting frantically. “I don’t want any trouble! Just leave me alone!”

The growl turned into a chuckle—a guttural, inhuman sound that echoed around her.

She started running, her heels slipping on the damp ground. She didn’t care about the car anymore; she just wanted to get back to the bar, to the lights and people.

But the sound of footsteps followed her. They were slow at first, as if stalking her, but then they picked up speed, closing the gap with terrifying ease.

Naree screamed. She tripped and fell hard onto the ground, scraping her knees and palms. She turned over, tears streaming down her face, and froze in horror.

Standing at the edge of the woods was a figure—a man, or at least it looked like one at first glance.

It was tall, impossibly thin, its limbs too long and its posture hunched. Its eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, and its face was wrong—like someone had tried to sculpt a human face but didn’t quite understand how.

Naree tried to crawl backward, but it was too late. The creature moved with unnatural speed, crouching in front of her. Its face twisted into a grotesque imitation of a smile.

“Pretty… lost… little girl,” it hissed, its voice a guttural mix of growls and whispers.

“P-please,” Naree sobbed, “let me go!”

The creature tilted its head, studying her. “Sad… broken… delicious.”

It reached out with a clawed hand, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The touch was icy, and she felt her strength drain away.

“No… no…” she whimpered, weakly pushing at its hand.

The skinwalker leaned closer, its foul breath hot against her face. “You’ll stay with me… forever.”

Before she could scream again, its jaw unhinged, revealing rows of jagged teeth. It lunged forward, and Naree’s world went black.

The Next Morning

A jogger found her torn coat and a single bloodied shoe at the edge of the woods. Her disappearance was added to the growing list of unsolved cases in the area.

The locals whispered about the skinwalker, warning others to stay away from the forest. But some swore they saw a beautiful woman wandering the woods late at night, her face blank, her eyes glowing faintly.

She was still there, they said, forever lost to the darkness.

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