The Whisper in the Woods
The next morning, Cuco sat quietly at the breakfast table, staring into his cereal like it held answers. His mom talked in the background, something about laundry, something about school—but her words felt distant, like they were coming from underwater.
That dream—or whatever it was—kept playing over and over in his head. The growl. The eyes. The mark on his hand, which now had faded into nothing, leaving his skin smooth like nothing ever happened.
He checked it again, just to be sure.
Still nothing.
Maybe he was losing it.
At school, Cuco barely heard what the teachers said. His friend—Tariq—watched him carefully from the next seat, like he knew something Cuco didn't.
"Did anything weird happen last night?" Cuco finally whispered.
Tariq paused. "Why?"
"I... I thought I saw something. In the woods."
Tariq leaned in, eyes narrowing. "You went out there?"
Cuco nodded slowly. "I couldn't sleep. I heard... something. So I followed it."
Tariq's voice dropped to a whisper. "You shouldn't have done that."
Cuco frowned. "Why not?"
But Tariq didn't answer. He just looked at Cuco's hand. "Is the mark still there?"
Cuco's eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"
Tariq gave a tight smile. "You're not the only one having dreams."
The bell rang before Cuco could say more.
The rest of the day passed like a blur. Cuco kept thinking about what Tariq had said. If they were both dreaming the same thing, it couldn't be just a dream, right?
That night, Cuco sat on his bed, staring out the window at the tree line behind his house. The forest was still. Too still. Even the crickets were quiet.
He turned off the light and lay down, but sleep wouldn't come. Around midnight, something clicked.
Not outside.
Inside.
It was the window latch.
Cuco sat up fast.
The window was open.
But he hadn't opened it.
A soft breeze rolled in, and with it... a whisper.
Very faint, like someone speaking from deep underground:
"Come back..."
Cuco froze.
The wind died.
The whisper stopped.
But his hand was glowing again.