Whispers of the Forgotten Pines

The dust settled, but the silence didn't feel right. It was too thick, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow, his heart still racing from their escape. The basement around them looked normal—too normal. As if the black door had never been there at all.

Eleanor was still staring at the blank wall where the door had been, her lips slightly parted, hands trembling at her sides. "It's gone," she whispered. "Just… gone."

Clara, always the skeptic, let out a shaky breath and rubbed her arms. "No. It's not gone. It's just… hiding again."

Ethan turned in a slow circle, scanning the room. Everything was where they had left it—the overturned chairs, the dusty bookshelves, the faint scent of mildew hanging in the air. But the energy in the room had shifted. He could feel it.

The door might have disappeared, but its presence lingered.

He turned to Eleanor. "Are you okay?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, but her eyes told a different story.

Clara groaned and rubbed her temples. "Okay, let's just process what the hell happened." She shot a sharp look at Ethan. "You saw that thing, right? It wasn't just my mind playing tricks?"

Ethan nodded. "It was real."

"Real," Clara repeated, shaking her head. "We just ran from something that looked like it crawled straight out of a nightmare."

Eleanor inhaled shakily. "It couldn't leave. It didn't chase us past the door."

"That door—" Ethan pointed at the empty space where it had been. "—was keeping it locked in."

Clara snorted. "Great. So we just did exactly what every dumb horror movie character does. We opened the one thing that should've stayed shut."

Ethan frowned, staring at his hand. His palm felt weird. Tingly.

When he lifted it to the light, his stomach twisted.

There was a mark on his skin.

Dark, almost like a burn, shaped like something twisting and shifting. It wasn't a symbol he recognized. But it felt wrong.

Eleanor saw it first. She gasped and grabbed his wrist. "Ethan. Your hand."

Clara's expression darkened. "Oh, hell no. What is that?"

Ethan flexed his fingers. His skin itched, burned. The mark pulsed.

"I don't know," he admitted. But deep down, he had a sickening feeling—

The door left something on him.

Or worse… inside him.

The Town Knows

They didn't talk much as they left the basement, locking it behind them as if that would do anything. The library above them was silent. Too silent.

Eleanor fidgeted as they stepped outside, the cool air of Whispering Pines wrapping around them like a heavy fog. The town felt different.

People were staring.

Not in an obvious way, but Ethan could feel it. Sideways glances. Murmured conversations.

Whispering.

The town knew.

"How are we supposed to act normal after that?" Eleanor mumbled under her breath.

"We don't," Clara said bluntly. "We need to find out what the hell that thing was."

Ethan exhaled slowly. "And why it didn't chase us."

They moved through the streets, the tension pressing down on them. The mark on Ethan's hand still tingled, but he clenched his fist, ignoring it.

One thing was clear.

That thing wasn't done with them.

And neither was the town.

From the shadows, someone was watching.