I hear a whistling in the woods.

The joyful sound echoing through the trees

It plays with the leaves

The sound stops me

My feet frozen

Throat dropping into my stomach

The forest makes no other sound

The animals

The bugs

The birds

All silent

The echo of the whistle reverberates in my mind

It sounded from far away

But I knew

It was too late

Too late to run

The hair on my neck rises and shifts

As the whistling comes once more

It’s breath is on my neck

Too late

Just too late

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