The Avenue of Whispers, supposedly one of the most haunted places in this forest. It once was a way for carriages to move from one town to another, but abandoned after many women were found buried underneath the soil. I sometimes wonder what happened to the women, wondered who they were. Were some duchesses from far off places traveling cross country for a ball? Or were they simple folk going into the next county to visit a sick uncle? No matter the beginning and middle though the end is here…was here…whatever. I then begin to wonder who did it and why? Was it a man who simply felt the urge to kill a woman…did he enjoy it or was he tortured by some unknown force like a demon or mental disease?
My feet make little noise as I walk down the dirt road, gazing at the trees that loomed on either side like guards, standing forever as witness to whatever horror had taken place on this thin strip of earth I now walked on. On the breeze I swear I could hear mumbling, the source behind the trail's name. If I concentrated my overactive mind could hear the women laughing with their companions, finding peace after what I guessed to be a horrible death. I could also hear screams, but shook those away. I liked the laughing. It made me believe that dying wasn't a bad thing. It could turn into something good. I kind of gave me hope for my own death and helped that fear to ease.
My eyes turned to the moon that was the only source of light for my trek. It cast a pale sheen over everything; illuminating the dark and making everything seem less foreboding. I'd always loved the moon, finding comfort that it could always bring light to the darkest place of all, night. But on this strip of road it seemed like a beacon, pulling me forward, tempting me to follow its long tendril fingers to some unknown space. I followed as if mesmerized. Truth be told I was. I was being pulled by an unknown force and felt no reason to ignore it. I had nothing better to do anyway. So I followed, my feet moving slowly and carefully as eyes took in the entire scene.
Again my mind wandered to perhaps the first person who called this place the Avenue of Whispers. What did they hear? Maybe the sweet laughing what I was now listening to…or the screams that I was trying to block out. I would hope the laughing, that would be a horrible way to first experience something, through fear. Really it would, I mean why should you experience anything that would cause pain, anguish or fear. I see no point. I always try to find some joy in an experience and though it was sometimes hard it wasn't impossible. Like this trek for example. It was quiet, serene almost. I knew I wasn't alone and while most would be scared by this I know nothing can hurt me, that I'm safe and in this knowledge I took comfort. This Avenue isn't as bad as people make it out to be. It's actually quiet beautiful in its darkness, the dark sky blending and mixing with the stark trees as they fade into the ground and now gave me a solid support. I loved it here and walked this path often.
But my path came to a stop near a patch of dirt. The place looked disturbed slightly and I knelt down, laying my hand on the ground. Underneath I knew there was a body; why else would there be disturbed dirt on this stretch of land? Again my mind went to who it could be; a duchess, a simple folk, a mother, a sister, a lover…so many possibilities of who could be underneath this dirt, but I pushed that all away. I already knew the answer. I'd seen the body before, the long brown hair, the wide blue eyes.
I pushed the dirt away to reveal the face, pale and glowing under the moon. I stared into my own eyes that would never again see my lover or my family. I pushed the dirt back over and continued on down the road, listening the laughter of the women who'd been murdered just as I had. I saw their pale forms on the side of the road every few places…a duchess talking with a school teacher, a poor woman staring up at the moon. We'd never see our families again, but forever we'd see the men that would do this to the women that would travel down this road. We could do little to stop it, but we always offer comfort to the newest soul that joined us. We could never leave, we were stuck here for all eternity, but we took comfort that we were not alone and in the hope that our killers would die as well, or be caught, but the former happened more often.
So I continued my walk down the Avenue of Whispers, listening to the laughter of those that had died before me, and joining in with a laugh of my own.
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