MidReal Story

Whispers of the Fallen

Scenario: In the midst of World War II, Private James seeks shelter in an abandoned cabin in a forest. He is tormented by eerie whispers and shadowy figures, trapped inside as the darkness consumes him. Desperate to flee, he briefly illuminates the cabin, revealing ghostly apparitions of fallen soldiers. Ultimately, James is overwhelmed by the horrors of war, his cries echoing into the night.
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In the midst of World War II, Private James seeks shelter in an abandoned cabin in a forest. He is tormented by eerie whispers and shadowy figures, trapped inside as the darkness consumes him. Desperate to flee, he briefly illuminates the cabin, revealing ghostly apparitions of fallen soldiers. Ultimately, James is overwhelmed by the horrors of war, his cries echoing into the night.
The war is over.
I repeat those words in my head, but it doesn’t make a difference.
My mind is still filled with the screams and gunshots of yesterday’s battle.
I pull my jacket tighter around myself, hoping to block out the memory, along with the cool air of the forest.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I have to get out of here.
Out of this place that’s haunted by my own memories.
I stumble over a tree root as I walk, and I curse under my breath.
I’m so tired, and my body aches from yesterday’s battle.
But I can’t stop now.
The trees begin to thin out, and I see something in the distance that makes my heart leap.
It’s an old cabin, abandoned long ago.
But it’s shelter from the whispers that haunt me, from the shadowy figures that follow me wherever I go.
Behind me, I hear a tree creak as if in warning.
The forest is alive, and it doesn’t want me to leave.
But I don’t have a choice.
I have to get away from here, or I’ll lose my mind.
And so, with one last glance over my shoulder, I run toward the cabin with all my might.
I don’t know how long it’s been since the forest has seen a living soul, but it must have been a long time.
The trees creak as I move past them, as if they’re speaking their own language—one that my body recognizes but my mind doesn’t understand.
And already, I can feel myself growing cold again as I leave the safety of the trees behind.
There isn’t much light left in this world—just enough to see where I’m going.
The cabin comes closer with every step I take, but with every step I’m growing more desperate for its shelter—its safety—from the forces that haunt me in this place.
I’ll be safe in there, I think as I reach for the door handle.
Safe from the things that follow me wherever I go.
My hand is shaking as I grab onto the wood, and I pause for a moment before pulling it open.
For a moment, everything is silent.
And then the door creaks open on its rusted hinges.
I don’t hesitate any longer.
Shutting the door behind me, I’m plunged into darkness once more—though some light filters through cracks in the walls, illuminating a lone chair and table as silent sentinels of better days long past.
They’re covered in dust now—a thick layer just like the rest of the room—just waiting for someone to come along and disturb it once more.
This cabin is nothing like what it used to be.
It’s falling apart at its seams, and even now the smell of rot fills the room.
This place is dying, just like everything else in this forsaken land.
But maybe, just maybe, there’s still hope for it yet.
I take a step inside, shutting out the dying light of day behind me.
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At once, I feel a chill run down my spine.
I’m not sure why I feel this way.
It’s not like I’ve never been in a forest at night before.
And it’s not like I’ve never heard things that weren’t really there.
But this feels different somehow.
The whispers are following me—inside the cabin.
At once, I know that they’ll never leave me alone.
They’ll follow me wherever I go.
They’ll find me in my dreams and haunt me there too.
But I don’t have the energy to worry about them anymore.
I need to rest.
Sinking heavily into the chair by the table, I close my eyes and try to will the whispers away.
They don’t listen.
They don’t care.
They only grow louder as night falls outside the cabin around me.
The darkness is complete now—so thick that I can almost feel it trying to smother me.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a match and light it with a flick of my wrist.
It burns brilliantly for a moment before it flickers weakly in the darkness.
For a moment, it illuminates the room around me—the old chair and table next to it—and I see that they’re not as empty as they seem.
Ghostly apparitions of the soldiers who died in battle are gathered around them, staring at me with eyes wide and unblinking.
Their lips are moving—moving the way that the whispers do—but no sound comes out.
Their eyes are accusing me of something—though what I’m not sure—and they hold my gaze without looking away for even a moment.
Something inside of me tells me to run—to get out before it’s too late—but I can’t make myself move.
I’m rooted to the spot as if I’m just another part of this dying cabin.
The match has almost burned down to my fingers now, and I drop it with a hiss of pain as it goes out between my fingers.
I try to strike another, but my hands are shaking so much that I can’t get a grip on the matchbox.
It slips between my fingers and falls with a clatter to the floor.
Panic rises in my chest, and I struggle to find it again in the darkness.
There’s no way I can stay here—not with those things watching me from the shadows.
Not with those whispers echoing in my ears.
Not with my own mind betraying me like this.
A branch scrapes against one of the walls from outside, and I hear an animal screeching somewhere in the distance.
Terror rises inside of me, choking me until I can hardly breathe.
“Help me!”
I scream, but no one answers.
“Please, help me!”
My voice is loud enough that it echoes for a moment through the trees outside.
But there’s no one here to hear it except for me.
My eyes dart around the room, but all I see are more shadows waiting to consume me.
This is wrong, a voice inside of me whispers.
I’m not supposed to be stuck in here with these ghosts.
I shouldn’t be one of them.
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There’s got to be another way out.
I back up against the door, praying that it’ll open for me.
But when my hands fumble for the handle, there’s nothing there.
The forest outside is nothing but darkness and shadows.
There are no stars in the sky, and no moon to guide me on my way.
The only way out is through them.
They’re still moving closer.
Their shadows stretch forward like they’re trying to grab my feet and pull me into their waiting arms.
The whispers are louder now, and I realize what they’re saying.
Again and again and again.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I light another match.
The flame is so small that I can hardly see anything at all as I peer through the darkness.
The forest outside is as black as ever, but if I squint hard enough…
Maybe there’s a path out there.
Something that will lead me out of here.
But try as I might, I can’t find it.
The darkness is unbreakable.
It stretches between the trees and covers every inch of the world outside.
I light another match, but it goes out before I manage to see anything at all.
There’s no way out of here.
No way to escape those eyes watching me from the shadows.
The darkness is almost upon me now.
It’s everywhere—I’m breathing it in—and I know that soon it’ll be all that’s left of me.
One more match remains in my box, and I strike it in desperation.
There’s nothing else in this room to light—not even another candle—and when it’s gone…
My fingers are shaking so much that it’s hard to keep hold of the matchbook.
But somehow I manage to get it lit before it goes out completely.
For a moment there’s light—just the slightest flicker of it—and then I open my mouth and blow on it until a small flame appears at the end of my cigar.
The ember glows a fierce orange in the darkness—like a star in the night sky—and for a moment I feel safe again.
Safe from whatever is coming to get me.
Everything changes in an instant.
The darkness swallows my cigar, and my hand is plunged into total darkness.
I can’t see my fingers in front of my face, and I wonder for a moment if I’m already dead.
If that’s why I can’t feel them any longer.
But then I see them in front of me again, and I realize that they’re trembling with fear.
There’s nothing left to light, and I don’t know what to do any longer.
For a moment, I consider searching for my lighter in my pocket, but I know before I even start that it won’t be there.
It’s not like I’m going to find anything new in there, just like I’m not going to find any matches left in my matchbox.
The world is laughing at me, and when I look up I realize that I can’t even see my own hand anymore.
The darkness has swallowed it whole.
“Please, someone help me!”
I scream into the night, but my voice just bounces back at me from every side of the room.
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