Blogtober 2025, Day 13: Cacophony

 

Lucy's Path: Chapter Thirteen

The light from the amulet burst outward, searing white and soundless—then came the noise. Not one voice, but a thousand, shrieking and whispering all at once. The forest erupted into a cacophony of laughter, wailing, and something like applause.

Mark staggered back, arm shielding his face. “Run!” he shouted, though his voice was swallowed in the roar.

Sarah grabbed Tyler’s sleeve, dragging him toward a gap in the trees. The path twisted and shuddered beneath them, branches snapping shut like ribs around a beating heart. Every direction looked the same, every step swallowed by shifting shadows.

Behind them, Emily’s voice rose above the din—singing now, tuneless but powerful, as if the words weren’t hers to control. The ground trembled with each note.

“Don’t listen!” Tyler yelled, clutching his head. “It gets inside you—don’t let it in!”

They burst through a thicket, thorns raking their arms, and stumbled into a shallow ravine where the noise dulled to a low, rhythmic thump. The air reeked of iron and wet leaves.

Sarah bent over, gasping. “Where’s Emily?”

Mark turned back toward the trees. The glow was gone. So was the song. Only the forest remained—quiet again, impossibly still.

Tyler sank to his knees, trembling. “It let us go,” he said. “But why?”

Mark looked up at the path, now empty, ribbons swaying in silence. “It didn’t let us go,” he said quietly. “It just let us run.”