[spookies] The whisperer

The fire crackled softly in the middle of the woods, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. Zalor, now known as "Dumpster" to those who hunted him, sat hunched over the flames, absently stirring a pot of stew with a weathered spoon.

The sound of rustling leaves broke the silence, and Zalor froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the dual knives at his sides. For a moment, he thought it might be the authorities—or worse, bounty hunters—but then he heard the unmistakable sound of giggles. It was the kind of sound that didn’t belong in these woods, especially not at night.

Through the thick trees, a pair of small figures emerged. Bappies. Zalor's grip on the blades loosened as two bappies stepped cautiously into the clearing. Their faces were smudged with dirt, and their wide eyes reflected the flickering firelight as they stared at him. One of them, a girl clutched a wooden stick as if it were a sword, while the other, a boy, nervously fidgeted with the hem of his oversized coat.

“What’re you doing out here?” Zalor grunted, his voice rough from days of silence. “It’s dangerous.”

The girl stepped forward bravely, though Zalor could see her legs tremble. “We’re not scared. We’re adventurers!”

The boy, however, looked far less confident. “We… we got lost.”

Zalor sighed, setting the spoon down beside the fire. He had no business taking care of bappies, but he couldn’t leave them out in the woods, especially with nightfall already blanketing the forest. He glanced around, knowing the dangers that lurked in the dark. 

“Come here,” he said, waving them over. “Sit by the fire before you freeze to death.”

The two children hesitated for a moment, but the warmth of the fire was too tempting to resist. They scurried over and sat down, still casting cautious glances at Zalor, though their fear seemed to be slowly melting away in the glow of the flames.

“Who are you? What are you doing in the woods all by yourself?” the girl asked, her eyes narrowing as if trying to read him.

Zalor poked at the fire, avoiding the question. “That’s not important. What is important is getting you back to your village before the beasts smell you.”

“We can’t go back now,” the boy mumbled. “We got too far out. And it’s too dark.”

Zalor’s eyes softened ever so slightly as he looked at the children. He recognized the fear in their voices, the kind that only came when you realized just how far from safety you’d wandered. It reminded him of a time long ago, when he and Zazie would get themselves into all kinds of trouble—trouble they were lucky to escape.

“Well,” he said after a pause, “you can stay here for tonight. It’s not much, but the fire will keep you warm.”

The girl’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Can we have some food too?”

Zalor gave her a sideways glance. He didn’t have much, but the stew was simple enough. It wouldn’t hurt to share, especially if it kept them quiet for the night.

He ladled out two small portions, handing each of them a battered tin cup filled with warm broth. There are a mixed variety of edible plants and mushrooms. “Eat up. Don’t make a mess.”

They ate in silence for a while, the fire crackling softly as the woods around them seemed to close in, the darkness deepening with each passing minute. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves, and somewhere in the distance, a branch snapped, causing the boy to jump.

“Tell us a story,” the girl, now finished with her meal, told him her demand.

Zalor frowned. “A story?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes bright. “We need one before going to bed.”

The boy also stared at him with wide eyes, not in the slightest sleepy. “Maybe a not too scary one…”

Zalor considered them for a moment. He wasn’t sure he was the storytelling type, but if it would keep them from wandering the woods and getting into real danger, he’d give them something half-hearted to chew on.

“Alright,” he said, leaning back against a tree and gazing into the flames. “You want a story? I’ll tell you one.”

The girl scooted closer, excited, while the boy still hugged his knees, wary of what was coming.

Zalor took a deep breath, his mind wandering to the tales he’d heard when he was their age. His voice was steady but indifferent, as if the words themselves didn’t matter much. "In these woods," he started, his tone flat, "there’s something people don’t talk about much. Not because it’s too scary, but because it’s the kind of thing that’s best left alone."

The girl blinked, confused. "What do you mean, ‘left alone’?"

Zalor shrugged. "I mean, if you know what’s good for you, you don’t go wandering out here at night. Not unless you want to meet…errr… yeah the ‘Whisperer.’"

The boy stiffened, while the girl made a disapproving face. "You just made that up, didn't you?"

"Who knows." Zalor glanced around the dark forest, the shadows stretching like long fingers across the clearing. "He’s an old hermit, they say. Lives deep in these woods, far from the village. No one’s seen him in years, but sometimes, if you’re real quiet, you can hear him talking. They say he whispers because he’s lost his voice—lost it when the forest swallowed him whole."

The children exchanged uneasy glances, but Zalor’s delivery lacked the drama they expected. His words felt casual, as if he were going through the motions rather than trying to frighten them.

"He’s always looking for something," Zalor continued, poking at the fire. "Sometimes it’s food. Sometimes it's a shelter. But mostly, he’s looking for company. See, the Whisperer gets lonely. So, if he sees bappies wandering the woods, he might follow them. Whisper their names, ask them to stay with him a while. But he’s not very good at asking."

The girl frowned. "That doesn’t sound too bad."

Zalor gave her a sidelong glance. "No? Well, here’s the thing. Once you start following him, you can’t stop. It’s like the trees close in around you, the path disappears, and all you hear is his voice getting closer and closer. Until…"

The boy finally spoke, his voice small. "Until what?"

Zalor shrugged again. "Until you realize you’ve gone too far. By then, it’s too late to find your way back. No one knows what happens after that, because no one who follows the Whisperer ever comes back."

The girl’s enthusiasm dimmed a little, and she hugged her knees to her chest. "That’s not fun at all," she muttered. "You’re supposed to make it scary."

Zalor chuckled dryly. "Scary enough to keep you out of the woods at night, I’d say. That’s the point."

The boy looked around nervously, as if he might hear the Whisperer right then. "Is he real?"

Zalor raised an eyebrow, not bothering to answer directly. "You’ll find out if you go wandering too far. But if I were you, I’d stay close to the fire."

The girl huffed. "You’re such a bad storyteller," she repeated, disappointed in the lack of theatrics. But she didn’t move from her spot by the fire, either. Neither of them did.

Zalor leaned back against the tree, watching them settle into the safety of the clearing, their eyelids growing heavy as the fire crackled on. He was only half paying attention now, lost in his own thoughts as the memories of his childhood floated to the surface. The ghost stories he and Zazie had heard as bappies—of monsters in the sea, of things that lurked where you couldn’t see them. The Drowner. He hadn’t thought about that story in years, but somehow it crept back into his mind tonight.

Maybe he hadn’t tried too hard to scare the bappies because he didn’t want to scare himself. He was in the woods now, running from something much worse than a ghost or a sea monster. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t even know what he was running from anymore.

But none of that mattered now. He looked at the bappies, now fast asleep, their faces peaceful in the glow of the fire. Zalor pulled an old blanket from his pack and draped it over them, his movements quiet and careful. He stared at them for a moment longer, wondering how different things might have been if his own life had taken a different turn. If he hadn’t gotten into trouble. If he hadn’t ended up here, hiding in the woods, far from everything and everyone.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of voices. The villagers. They were coming for the bappies.

Zalor’s heart began to pound. He didn’t have time. He had to move.

Quickly, Zalor gathered his few belongings, hastily shoving them into his pack. In his rush, he clumsily knocked over a tin cup, sending it clattering against a rock. He cursed under his breath, quickly covering up some of his tracks, but missing a few in his haste. He didn't even manage to put out the fire. As he disappeared into the darkness, the last thing he heard was the soft murmur of the villagers, relieved to find their missing children safe and sound.