Written By Utkarsh Singh Patel (Grade 8)
Yuji’s family relocated to the small town of Silent Creek, and he could not wait for something interesting to happen. It was set in a secluded town that practically had no internet connection and streets that were dead by 6 p.m. The entire environment was unsettling—a constant fog, massive distorting trees, and a river that appeared to be dead. The people moved away from him and looked at him queerly when he asked them about the history of the town.
In his first week in school, Yuji discovered an old library deep in the outskirts. The building gives the impression that no one has been there for a long time, but there were books all over the table as if the person had been there not long ago. One journal he saw was all written in riddles and coded symbols about ‘The Watchers’. It was chalked on the journal as if there is something primal dwelling in the forest, always watching.
It wasn’t until that night that Yuji felt some form of discomfort. One day, as midnight approached, he heard a faint buzzing sound coming from the woods located at the back of his house. Despite the words of caution from his fellow pupils, “Never go to the woods at night,” Yuji took a flashlight and went. The sound was leading him further and further, and finally, he discovered an old well made of stone with its surface engravings resembling those found in the journal. The beam of the flashlight flared up, and the noise ceased and made way for silence.
Looking down the well, he noticed that he could see a light glowing at the bottom of it, as well as faint voices calling out. Quickly, shouts changed to cries of desperation: “Help us! Don’t go!”—and the voices seemed to float through the forest. Yuji stumbled back, his gaze full of confusion and terror. Just then, his phone buzzed—an unknown number with a single message: “GO.”.
Perhaps sensing danger, the ground shook, and before he knew it, something large had moved in the darkness surrounding him. Yuji had nearly turned his back to the well when he remembered that the whispers had not been coming from inside the well—their voices were filling the trees and were coming from every direction.
Then, a cold hand grabbed his shoulder.
Featured Image Courtesy – Angel Water
