The Whispering Woods

There was only one rule: don't open the door. The issue was, there wasn't a door. How could there possibly be a door in the Woods?

The Whispering Woods were so dangerous that very few people attempted the journey from one side to the other without a guide, and even fewer survived it.

The safest path took them down into a gorge, across a fast running river and through a swamp, all within the Whispering Woods. Off the path were many horrors; Ghosts and Ghouls, Skeletons and spine-chilling Spirits, Werewolves and Witches, Vampires and Vila.

Three days in, the group came across a small hut, a rest stop, a safe haven. They entered the hut through its open doorway into a surprisingly spacious area. The rug under Callum's feet was uneven, he went to lift it and see what was underneath, but the guide shouted out. He had however seen the trapdoor sitting comfortably under the rug. This must be what they had been warned of, the one rule.

Callum heard his name, he must have drifted off. His now open eyes fell upon the rug in the center of the room, almost instinctively, he made his way to it and rolled it back, revealing the trapdoor. A sense of urgency gripped Callum, he had to open it.

It didn't take Callum long to find the padlock key hanging around the guide's neck. Taking the key, he unlocked the trapdoor, and raised the hatch. The sound of running water greeted Callum, and couldn't stop himself from diving headlong into it.

That was the last thing Callum ever did.

The singing siren watched on as she claimed her latest victim, looking upwards, she noticed a small patch of light streaming in from the cave ceiling.

The hatch had been left open.