"The Whisper," by Gretta Adams: November 2024 2nd Place

In the smallest of small towns, not much happens.

Occasionally, a dog goes rabid and kills someone, or some other horrid, fascinating tale excites us for a minute, but then it is gone in the wind.

I sense this story will blow away too, but I will make sure to remember it.

The only other thing of interest in Oakberry are the monsters.

From far away, they look like normal people - same frame. But go closer, and you will see their glassy black eyes, blue skin, and antlers. The Whispers, we call them, silent and deadly. They do not speak. Maybe they cannot. I don’t know.

It was my sister who first told me the news, with flushed cheeks and wild hair. Come, you have to see.

A Whisper, in the daylight. It walked not with the light, confident steps of others like it, but hid its claws and trembled. Then the moaning started.

The warbled sounds hung heavy in the air as it seemed to try to talk, moving its lips and beginning to cry black tears when only moans came out.

It was trying to speak.

My father pushed his way to the front of the crowd and pointed his gun at it - he would protect the town. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and put a gentle hand on his gun, lowering it. Somehow, I knew - this creature was different.

I stayed, watching the Whisper look through stores and homes with cautious urgency, as if looking for something. After everyone else went home, I stayed. The way its hands hesitated with old familiarity over everything…

“You used to be human.” The words left my mouth before I understood them, but I knew they were true. Imposible, but true. Black tears once again filled its eyes, and it nodded. Just barely, but noticeably. It dawned on me what the creature was looking for.

A way to be human again.

As I watched the Whisper continue towards the setting sun, a feeling of warmth filled me.

I hope you find what you are looking for.