Chapter 3 – Whisper in the Alley
The air in Windale thickened after sunset, as though the town held its breath the moment the last trace of daylight slipped away. Aria hadn’t planned to stay out late, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. After leaving the bookstore earlier that day, she had wandered from street to street, sketching notes about the town—its architecture, its silence, its way of staring at her without eyes.
Now, as she clutched her notebook and hurried through the dimly lit streets, the lamps above her flickered like candle flames about to die. She wasn’t lost—at least not yet. The Crestwood Inn was just a few turns away. But the narrow alleys of Windale seemed to twist and shift, each corner leading her somewhere she hadn’t intended to go.
The whispers started again.
At first faint, like the sigh of leaves. Then clearer. Distinct. Words slipped through the fog, brushing against her ears as though spoken by someone leaning close.
“Aria…”
Her blood ran cold. She spun around, notebook clutched to her chest. The alley was empty, shadows spilling across cobblestones like ink.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice shaking despite her effort to sound firm.
Silence. Then—again—closer.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Aria stumbled back a step, pressing herself against the damp stone wall. “Show yourself!”
Her voice echoed, thin and weak. No answer. Only the scrape of something distant—metal against stone, maybe? Or the shifting of boots?
Her instinct screamed at her to run, but another part of her, the writer within, wanted to know. Wanted to capture this moment, this eerie dialogue with the unseen. She fumbled for her pen, scribbling on the corner of her notebook with trembling hands: Voices in the alley. Knows my name.
She had barely written the words when movement flickered at the far end of the alley. A tall shadow detached itself from the fog and began walking toward her.
Aria froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
The figure was blurred by mist, but its steps were steady, deliberate. As it drew closer, she caught glimpses—a long coat, the glint of something metallic in its hand.
Her mind screamed: Run!
She bolted, her boots slamming against the cobblestones, heart hammering. The alley stretched endlessly, her footsteps echoing in maddening rhythm with the ones behind her. The shadow followed, pace unhurried yet somehow closing the distance.
She turned sharply, cutting into another narrow passage, praying it would lead back to the square. The fog thickened, choking her vision. Her lungs burned as she sprinted, the whispers now surrounding her, hissing in a chorus she couldn’t decipher.
Then—hands grabbed her.
Aria shrieked, struggling, but the grip tightened on her arm. “Stop—it’s me!”
The voice was low, urgent. She blinked through her panic. Ethan.
He stood before her, his face set in harsh lines, grey eyes sharp with warning.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, releasing her arm.
Aria staggered back, chest heaving. “I—I was heading to the inn. I got turned around. Someone—someone was following me.”
Ethan’s gaze flicked over her shoulder, scanning the fog. His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t walk alone after dark. Especially not here.”
“There was someone,” Aria insisted. “I heard whispers. They said my name.”
His eyes locked onto hers, unreadable. For a moment, she thought he would dismiss her. But instead, he said quietly, “I believe you.”
The admission startled her more than denial would have.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Next time you hear them… don’t answer.”
Aria’s heart raced. “Why not?”
“Because once you do,” he said grimly, “they know you’re listening.”
Before she could reply, a sound drifted through the fog. A sharp clang, like a metal pipe dropping against stone. Ethan stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching beneath his coat.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
Aria obeyed, though fear clawed at her throat. She peered over his shoulder as the fog parted slightly—and for an instant, she saw it.
A figure at the alley’s edge. Tall, cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood. It didn’t move, didn’t speak. It simply stood there, watching.
The whispers surged again, louder, echoing all around them. Aria pressed her hands to her ears, but it didn’t stop—the voices weren’t outside. They were inside. Crawling beneath her skin.
Ethan moved forward a step, his presence steady, protective. But as he did, the figure retreated, dissolving into the mist until there was nothing left.
Silence fell. Heavy. Crushing.
Ethan turned back to her. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with something fierce. “Go back to the inn, Aria. Now. Don’t look back. Don’t stop until you’re inside.”
Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to move. The walk back felt endless, the fog curling at her heels like grasping fingers. When she finally reached the warm glow of the inn’s lantern, she dared one last glance over her shoulder.
Nothing.
But even as she closed the door behind her, Aria knew she had not imagined it. The whispers were real. The shadow was real. And Ethan Cross… he knew far more than he was willing to say.
That night, as she wrote in her diary with unsteady hands, her words spilled faster than her thoughts could catch them:
The town whispers. It knows my name. And Ethan—he’s hiding something. Something I need to uncover, before the whispers find me again.
She blew out the candle, heart still thudding in her chest.
Outside, in the alley where she had run, the fog curled tighter. And within it, a voice lingered—soft, patient, waiting.
“She listens…”
---
Next part is coming.....
------
Heartfelt thanks to everyone for staying with the story till the very end. If I’ve made any mistakes while writing, I hope you’ll kindly overlook them. Every single comment from you is truly precious to me, because a writer’s greatest inspiration comes from the readers’ response. How you felt about the story, which part touched you, or where it could have been improved—sharing these thoughts will add new colors to my future writings. Your love and feedback are the fuel for my pen, so please don’t forget to leave a comment.
