Chapter 1: The Whisper in the Pines
Detective Lila Torrance hated the woods. She hated the way the shadows clustered between the gnarled roots, the way the silence pressed in like a held breath. Above all, she hated the persistent, almost melodic sighing that swept through the pines behind the old McCallister estate, as if the trees themselves remembered things best forgotten.
It was a place of legends, of course. Little towns like Wren Hollow always had their ghost stories. The Forgotten Forest, they called it, even though it was just a patch of private land overgrown with brambles and moss. She’d heard the tales growing up: the spectral woman in gray, the children who vanished, the song that drifted on autumn nights. But Lila dealt in facts, not fables. And the fact was, a man had died here.
She ducked under the crime scene tape, boots sinking into mud softened by yesterday’s rain. It was early, the sun barely cresting the horizon, but already the place was crawling with uniforms and techs. Sergeant Morrow, round-faced and red-nosed, waved her over.
Morning, Detective. You got here quick.
Lila surveyed the clearing, the battered McCallister house looming in the background. Her gaze caught on the reason she’d been called: a form sprawled against the roots of a massive pine, limbs arranged with ritualistic precision. The chestnut hair, the blue windbreaker, the familiar features—Doug Harrow, local reporter, and her sometime antagonist.
What do we have?
Morrow grimaced. Harrow’s neck’s broken, but there’s ligature marks—might be post-mortem. No ID on a weapon. And the weird part—
He nudged a small, battered recorder lying beside the body. Lila crouched, gloved hands lifting it carefully. She pressed play. The static hissed, and then, clear as a bell, a woman’s voice sang:
Come away, child, from the shadowy trees—
She stopped the tape, heart drumming. The Song of the Forgotten Forest. It wasn’t a children’s rhyme. It was a warning.
Chapter 2: A Town in Mourning
Wren Hollow was the kind of place that wore its grief openly. By noon, news of Doug Harrow’s death had swept through Main Street like wildfire. Businesses closed early, and the diner’s windows were fogged with the breath of gossiping patrons.
Lila stopped at the library, the town’s unofficial center for all things historical. Mrs. Chan, the elderly librarian, greeted her with a tight-lipped smile.
I heard about Doug. Such a shame, she said, voice tremulous. He was always poking around, chasing stories.
Did he mention what he was working on?
Mrs. Chan pursed her lips. He was asking about the old forest—folklore, disappearances. He was obsessed with that song. Spent hours listening to old tapes.
Lila felt the recorder’s weight in her pocket. She remembered Doug’s column in last week’s paper: “Whispers From the Pines—What Are We Hiding?” He’d hinted at something big, a secret buried in the roots of Wren Hollow.
Behind Mrs. Chan, the microfiche reader flickered. Lila’s eyes narrowed. Mind if I take a look at the archives?
She dug through brittle headlines, reading of missing children in 1989, a hunter lost in 1975, the McCallister family’s ruin. Each tragedy was marked by whispers of the Song—an ancient melody that lured the unwary to their doom.
She copied down names: Rose McCallister, vanished at sixteen. David Tanner, found dead with a broken neck. The dates were decades apart, but the circumstances were eerily similar.
The forest remembers, Doug had written. And it never forgives.
Chapter 3: Echoes of the Past
That night, Lila sat at her kitchen table with the recorder. She replayed the song, listening for clues. The voice was haunting, each note tinged with sorrow. She recognized the melody—it was a lullaby, the same one her grandmother had hummed when she was a child. She’d never known the words.
She called her sister, Mara, who still lived in the family home out by the lake.
Do you remember the song Grandma used to sing? Lila asked.
Mara hesitated. The one about the trees? Sure. She said it was for protection. Mom hated it—said it was bad luck.
Do you remember any of the words?
A pause, then softly:
Come away, child, from the shadowy trees,
Where the branches whisper and restless breeze,
For the forest hungers for dreams unsaid,
And the song will follow you home to bed.
Lila shivered. It was a warning, not a comfort. She thanked Mara and hung up.
Outside, the wind rose, carrying with it the faintest strain of melody. Lila closed her eyes. Somewhere, the forest was singing.
Chapter 4: The McCallister Ruins
The next day, Lila returned to the crime scene. The house loomed, its windows boarded, the front door barely hanging on its hinges. She let herself in, flashlight beam cutting through the gloom. The walls were papered with mold and peeling photographs. It had the feel of a place abandoned in haste.
She found Doug’s footprints in the dust, leading upstairs. In a small bedroom, she discovered a desk scattered with notes and tapes. Doug’s handwriting scrawled across the pages:
Local deaths—always near the forest. Song recorded—origin unknown. Check Rose McCallister.
There was a reference to a diary—Rose’s, perhaps. Lila searched the drawers, finally finding a battered journal taped beneath the bottom panel.
She opened it carefully, the pages brittle and yellowed. The entries were erratic, filled with drawings of trees, lyrics to the song, and increasingly desperate writing.
I hear her at night—the woman in gray. She sings, and I can’t move. She wants me to follow.
Doug had circled one entry:
Mother says the song keeps the forest at bay. But I don’t believe her. The trees are hungry.
Lila’s skin prickled. She flipped to the last page:
If I disappear, look for me where the pines whisper the loudest.
Lila pocketed the diary and left the ruins, the wind rising behind her, carrying with it that familiar, mournful tune.
Chapter 5: The Woman in Gray
Lila visited the historical society, hoping to learn more about the McCallisters. The curator, Mr. Finch, greeted her with wary eyes.
The McCallister girl? Rose? She disappeared in ’89. Some said she ran away, others thought she drowned in the bog. Nobody found a trace—except for her ribbon, caught in the pines.
Did you know her?
A little. She was quiet, always scribbling in her journal. Her mother—Margaret—was odd. Claimed their family was cursed. Wouldn’t let Rose play near the woods.
Lila showed him the diary. Finch paled. That’s hers, all right. She used to draw the woman in gray—said she appeared whenever someone was about to die.
A pattern was emerging. The song, the woman, the woods. Lila thanked Finch and left, her mind racing.
She drove to the edge of the forest, heart thudding. The pines loomed, their branches swaying in the wind. She closed her eyes, listening.
A woman’s voice, faint and distant, sang:
Come away, child, come away…
She took a shaky breath. The forest was calling.
Chapter 6: Into the Shadows
Lila returned to the forest that night, guided by moonlight and memories. She followed a narrow path twisting between the trees, each step muffled by moss.
She reached the clearing where Doug had died. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of pine and decay. She listened, but the woods were silent. She took out Rose’s diary, reading the last entry again.
Where the pines whisper the loudest.
She circled the perimeter, pausing when the wind rose, carrying the song’s melody. She walked toward it, deeper into the trees. The song grew clearer, a lullaby and a warning.
She found a hollow at the base of an ancient pine, its roots twisted into a crude archway. A scrap of ribbon, faded and brittle, fluttered in the breeze. Lila crouched, shining her flashlight into the darkness.
There, half-buried in earth, was a small wooden box. She pried it loose, heart pounding. Inside was a bundle of letters, a silver locket, and another tape recorder.
She pressed play. The tape crackled, then a girl’s voice—Rose’s—whispered:
If you find this, I’m sorry. The song is a warning. The forest takes those who listen. Don’t let it take you.
The recorder clicked off. Lila stood, the silence pressing in. She had answers, but they only raised more questions.
Chapter 7: The Roots of Crime
Lila brought the evidence back to the station, piecing together the pattern. Each victim—Rose, Tanner, now Doug—had encountered the song before their deaths. Each had been found near the ancient pines.
She revisited Doug’s notes. He’d tracked down every local death linked to the forest. Oddly, he’d circled the name Henry Colter—groundskeeper at the McCallister estate for forty years.
Lila paid Colter a visit. He lived in a ramshackle cabin on the edge of town, the porch cluttered with old tools and empty whiskey bottles.
He opened the door, eyes watery, hands trembling.
I told Doug to leave it alone, Colter muttered. Some things best left buried.
Did you kill him? Lila asked, voice low.
Colter shook his head. No. The forest did. It always does.
Lila studied him, searching for guilt, for anger. She saw only fear.
What do you know about the song?
His voice dropped to a whisper. It’s old. Older than the town. McCallisters brought it here, kept it contained. When Rose disappeared, the song got free. Been taking folk ever since.
Doug was getting close to something. What was it?
Colter’s hand trembled. He found Rose’s grave.
Lila’s breath caught. Where?
He gestured toward the forest. Beneath the oldest pine. Where the roots run deepest.
Chapter 8: Beneath the Pines
Night fell as Lila returned to the woods, shovel in hand. The moon was a thin crescent, lending just enough light to guide her to the ancient pine. She dug where the roots twisted the earth, sweat cooling on her skin.
Her shovel struck wood. She unearthed a wooden box, larger than the first. Heart pounding, she pried it open.
Inside were the skeletal remains of a young woman, a faded dress, and a silver locket—the twin of the one in the smaller box. She opened it, revealing a photograph of Rose and her mother.
She called the station, her voice barely steady. We found Rose.
As she waited, the wind picked up. The song drifted through the pines, mournful and sweet.
Lila knelt beside the grave, placing the second locket upon Rose’s chest.
Rest now, she whispered. The song is over.
Chapter 9: The Truth Unveiled
Back at the station, the coroner confirmed the remains were Rose McCallister’s. The town mourned anew, her story finally ending after decades of whispers.
Doug’s recorder, analyzed by techs, revealed a final message—one he’d left for Lila.
If you’re hearing this, I found Rose. The song isn’t just a legend—it’s a warning. Someone used it to lure victims into the woods. The crime was never the forest’s; it was ours.
Lila poured over the evidence. Doug’s last notes pointed to Margaret McCallister, Rose’s mother. She’d written of protecting the town, of sacrificing what she loved most to keep the song contained.
An old letter, tucked in Rose’s diary, confirmed it:
I did what I must. The forest must be fed, or it will take us all.
It wasn’t a curse, Lila realized. It was guilt. Margaret had killed her daughter to appease an imagined evil, and the legend grew from tragedy and fear.
Doug, obsessed with the truth, had pieced it together. Someone—perhaps Colter—had killed him to keep the secret buried.
Lila confronted Colter, who confessed through tears. He’d found Doug at the grave, panicked, and tried to scare him off. When Doug fought back, Colter lashed out. The death was accidental, but the cover-up was not.
The song, once a warning, had become a weapon.
Chapter 10: Closure
Colter was arrested, and Doug was buried with honors. The town grieved, but for the first time, there was an answer—a history laid to rest.
Lila stood at the edge of the Forgotten Forest, listening. The wind whispered through the trees, but the song was gone. Only the ordinary sigh of pines remained.
She returned Rose’s diary to Mrs. Chan, who placed it in the library’s archives. The forest, stripped of its legend, became just another patch of woods.
But sometimes, on quiet nights, Lila swore she heard a voice on the breeze. Not a song, but a sigh—a final goodbye from a girl lost to time, and a town that would remember her always.
The Forgotten Forest had given up its last secret.
And with that, the song was truly over.