Chapter 3: Bridge of Whispers
Winter Summers – POV
By Lenn Marcus
---The gate stood like a wound in the woods — silent, waiting.
Two stone pillars, split with old cracks, stretched upward, coiled with vines like fingers choking it from the root up. The rusted chains holding the wooden sign clanked softly in the wind. The words carved into the wood stared back at me like a dare.
HEAVEN’S GARDEN
The fog clung thick across the threshold like a veil. White. Dense.
It felt wrong. Like a place not meant to be seen.
“Come, what are you waiting for? I found him. Come, Mister Cat… I won’t hurt you.”
Marian’s voice floated out from the mist.
Soft. Familiar.
But something about it, here — now — made my throat tighten.
My heart beat like a fist against my ribs. A hush filled my ears.
Should I go in? Or turn back?
My fists clenched. My breath hitched.
But turning back wasn’t an option.
Neptune was beyond that fog. Waiting for me to take him home.
I drew in a shaky breath and stepped through the gate.
The fog swallowed me whole.
A thick, damp sheet wrapped around my body — almost tangible. I could barely see my next step.
Just sounds. Crunching leaves. Twigs snapping like dry bones.
The ground guided me where my eyes could not.
“Marian?” I called softly. Then louder: “Neptune?”
Nothing.
Only my breathing. The weight of silence. The fog pressing on my skin like wet wool.
What if there’s a gorge? A drop?
What if I just keep walking… and fall?
My fingers curled into the sleeves of my jacket, trying to stay anchored.
Snap. Snap.
Footsteps. Fast. Approaching.
I froze.
My ears strained for another sound — another step, a branch, a breath.
Nothing.
Just my own inhale. Sharp. Held.
“Marian?” I whispered again, tighter now.
The silence stretched — too long, too still.
Just long enough to scrape a cold chill up my spine.
The sound of drifting wind brushed against the leaves.
A slow build, rising through the fog like something rushing toward me.
Then—
It hit.
Hard. A violent gust tore through the trees, spinning leaves into the air like shrapnel. They scraped across my skin as they swirled past.
I turned my face, buried it in my arms.
And in the middle of the screaming wind—
TURN BACK.
A voice.
Not shouted. Whispered. But sharp enough to slice through the storm.
Cold. Metallic. Distorted.
Like rust bleeding through static.
It left a taste in my mouth — bitter, sharp.
My jaw clenched. My eyes squeezed shut.
I stumbled back, heart hammering against my ribs.
That wasn’t wind.
That wasn’t human.
The wind vanished.
I stood there, arms still braced over my head, heart pounding. Slowly, I lowered my hands. Opened my eyes.
The fog crawled — like something alive — dragging itself away from my path. Slithering back behind the trees, revealing what it had hidden.
My gaze locked onto the sight in front.
A lake. Deep and wide.
And a bridge.
Old. Rundown. Sagging with age.
Wooden planks stretched across the black water, warped from weather and time. Several were cracked. A few were missing altogether — dark gaps left like scars. Nails jutted out in bent directions, and the ropes that once supported it sagged like frayed veins.
It didn’t look like something meant to hold weight anymore.
But halfway across — there they were.
Marian sat at the edge, her legs dangling.
Neptune was beside her, pawing gently at the floor.
Relief hit me — but only for a second.
“Marian! Neptune! We gotta go. Now!” I called out, stepping forward.
They didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.
My boot had just touched the first wooden plank of the bridge when a second gust of wind came barreling through from behind.
Stronger this time.
Sharp.
It slammed into me, and the whisper came with it again:
LEAVE.
The word tore through the wind like a knife through silence. Singular. Bitter.
I stumbled, and felt something slip from my jacket pocket.
The locket.
It hit the wood near my feet — clink.
Bounced once. Then again.
Then rolled — slowly — toward the edge.
“No—!”
I dropped to my knees, scrambling forward.
Too late.
The golden locket tipped once at the edge.
Hung there.
Paused.
Then fell.
I stretched for it — sharp wood tore through my sleeve, slicing into my arm.
Pain lit up my nerves.
But I didn’t care.
My jaw locked as I watched.
The locket cut through the surface of the lake like it had always belonged there — a flash of gold, swallowed by black.
Gone.
Creak.
The bridge groaned beneath me — a hollow, aching sound that pulsed through the wood like a warning breath.
My eyes stayed fixed on the lake.
A drop of blood slipped from my fingers.
Then another.
Then another.
Each one landed on the surface and rippled outward — distorting my reflection.
My throat tightened. My vision blurred.
My hands trembled.
A soft moan escaped my lips — the sound of a sob held too long, too tight.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle it.
Inhaled. Shaky. Deep.
The last thing my father gave me.
The only thing I had left that proved he was ever real.
Don’t cry. Don’t break. Not now.
I grabbed the edge of my sleeve and clenched it in my fist.
Breathing slow.
Trying to hold the pieces together.
Just breathe.
“Oh my. You shouldn’t have done that.”
Marian’s voice floated out — low, soft.
Wrong.
I wiped at my eyes and pushed to my feet.
“It’s fine,” I said, voice flat, brittle. “We have to get out of here. Come on, we—”
My eyes flicked to Neptune.
He was backing away from her slowly, toward me.
His gaze locked ahead.
Then — Neptune hissed.
He stepped between us — hackles raised.
Eyes locked on her.
“Neptune?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
Then I turned to Marian.
My chest stiffened. Eyes widened. Heart froze.
Body numbed.
Her eyes — no longer green — had blackened at the edges.
Red bled down her cheeks. Her skin had lost all warmth.
Her smile was gone.
My breath caught. I stumbled back.
I wanted to scream.
But couldn’t.
My voice turned to dust.
The fog curled around her legs like it belonged there.
She turned her head — just slightly — glancing behind herself.
As if something was coming.
Then her gaze returned to mine.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
Sharp. Steady.
“I think you should run.”
The hair at the back of my neck stood up.
A chill washed over me.
A gasp escaped my lips.
Then her body began to unravel — pale skin peeling away like torn paper, dissolving into mist.
Her shape stretched, pulled into tendrils.
Her eyes — the last thing to vanish.
Gone.
The bridge groaned beneath me.
And the fog crawled back in.
Thicker. Heavier. Closing from all sides.
The trees disappeared.
The lake darkened.
The world folded inward.
Then—
A growl.
Low. Wet.
From beneath the bridge.
Something moved.
Slow. Crawling.
Getting closer.
Something was coming.
TO BE CONTINUED…
---
Author’s Note:
First off — thank you so much for the read. If you’ve followed Winter this far into the fog… you’re officially a true Whisperwalker. Welcome to the club. New Whisper
Things are only going to get stranger from here — and the next chapter?
Let’s just say it’ll take the breath from your lungs.
This is where it all begins.
So if the mist gave you chills, like, subscribe, and keep your lantern lit.
We’re just getting started. Can't wait to hear what you thought of this chapter.
Pen drop.
— Lenn Marcus
Comments (0)
See all