Daylight doesn't die in the forest.
It drowns.
As the sun dips beneath the trees, the leaves start to lose their color. What was once vibrant green becomes dull, shadowed. The golden beams fade like an old photograph and the wind goes still. Not gentle. Not calm. Just... still.
Like something is holding its breath.
And the silence... changes.
It's not peaceful anymore.
It's watching you.
You think you're alone in the forest at night—but the trees know you're here.
They've always known.
The same path you walked in the morning suddenly twists. Roots curl just a little higher, branches lean a little closer. Everything looks familiar—but off.
Like the forest has put on a mask.
And underneath, it's not smiling.
Somewhere in the distance, a branch snaps.
Too loud.
Too sharp.
And even if it's nothing, your body doesn't believe that.
Because deep inside your chest, where instincts sleep until they're needed, something wakes up.
Your heart starts to pound louder than your footsteps.
The night is cold, but you're sweating.
You turn, and the shadows stretch with you.
Not following... just staying near.
Waiting.
The trees are taller now. Or maybe they're just leaning in.
No more birds.
No more wind.
Just the sound of your breath.
And this thought—
What if something else is breathing with you?
There's a clearing up ahead, but it's darker than the path. The moon should be out—but it isn't. Not even a sliver. The sky above the trees is thick with clouds that weren't there before.
And in that suffocating blackness, your eyes play tricks.
You see movement where there isn't any.
Or maybe...
You see the truth that daylight hides.
Because the forest is not evil.
But it is ancient.
It has seen things.
It holds secrets in its soil and keeps them in its roots.
And you—
You're just a guest.
A moment.
A heartbeat among centuries.
This place doesn't hate you.
It doesn't wish you harm.
But it does not promise you safety either.
The forest at night is not the place to pretend.
Not the place to be loud.
Not the place to lie to yourself.
Here, everything fake crumbles.
Here, you are only what you truly are.
And if you're not ready to face that,
the darkness will feel a lot like fear.
But if you are...
If you listen—
Really listen—
You'll hear it:
The forest is still whispering.
But this time, it's saying—
"Be still.
Be real.
Be small—
And I will not harm you."
This isn't a horror story.
But it's not a fairy tale either.
It's a reminder.
That even the gentlest things can grow sharp in the dark.
That beauty doesn't always come in warmth.
And that peace—real peace—sometimes begins in fear.
"You walk faster in the dark, not because something's chasing you—but because something inside you remembers that it could."
YOU ARE READING
If Only Trees Could Talk
Fantasy"If Only Trees Could Talk" They say forests are peaceful... but what if they were also alive? This book is a walk through the woods-sunlight on your skin by day, and shadows creeping close by night. With each chapter, the trees speak. They whisper s...
