The Story of Echoes
By Jane Doe

The forest was quiet, too quiet for Elena’s liking. It wasn’t the kind of stillness that invited peace. This silence pressed against her, a blanket too heavy to shrug off. She could feel the weight of it in her bones.

“Elena!” came the distant call, soft and playful, bouncing off the trees.

She froze. Her brother, Sam, was supposed to be close by, gathering firewood, but this voice—it didn’t sound like him.

“Elena!” The call came again, this time a little closer, the pitch slightly off, as if someone had heard her name but didn’t know how to say it. Her pulse quickened. The villagers had warned her about this place.

The Echoes.

“Elena, come on,” the voice insisted, eerily familiar yet unnervingly distant. She gripped the strap of her knapsack, glancing around. The trees stood tall and imposing, their dark bark rough against the pale afternoon light. She wasn’t lost—she was sure of that—but she didn’t feel safe anymore.

The stories had been told for generations, of voices that mirrored your own, or that of someone you loved, pulling you deeper into the woods, never to return. No one could say for sure if it was myth or something darker, but everyone knew the rule: never answer when the forest called.

“Elena, are you there?” Sam’s voice again. Or something that sounded like him.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to reply. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She turned toward the direction of the voice but didn’t move. The underbrush crunched softly underfoot as something unseen approached.

“Elena, I’m hurt. Please.”

It sounded so real this time, almost convincing. But no. She knew better. The Echoes could mimic anyone, anything, with terrifying accuracy, except for one crucial flaw—their calls were always too persistent, too desperate.

“Elena!” the voice called, rising in intensity, cracking at the edges, distorting into something that wasn’t human. “Answer me!” it screeched, the words devolving into a garbled echo that repeated itself in overlapping, warped layers.

She covered her ears and took a step back. Her mind raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she moved in the opposite direction, away from the voice, deeper into the forest. Her only hope was to stay silent, to outrun whatever was trying to lure her in.

But the Echo followed.

“Elena!” it screamed now, the name stretching, pulling apart like something being ripped at the seams. The forest trembled with the sound, the leaves rustling as if the trees themselves were shuddering.

She ran. Her feet pounded against the earth, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The Echoes grew louder, multiplied, filling the air around her. Sam’s voice, her mother’s voice, even her own voice—all of them distorted, fragmented, chasing her.

“Elena...”

The ground beneath her feet seemed to shift, pulling her into a path she hadn’t seen before. She didn’t know where it led, but there was no choice now. The Echoes were relentless, their voices merging into one deafening chorus.

Suddenly, she burst into a clearing. The sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the mossy ground. And in the center stood an ancient stone well, its dark mouth gaping like a hungry void.

“Elena...”

Her name echoed from the well, clear and haunting. She stared at it, feeling the pull of it deep within her chest. Something called to her from below, something that wasn’t an Echo this time. It was something older, something real.

For a moment, she hesitated. The villagers had warned her about this, too—the well in the heart of the forest, the source of the Echoes.

“Elena,” the voice whispered again, this time soft, almost tender.

She took a step closer.

“Elena, come.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for the edge of the well, peering into the darkness. There, at the bottom, something shimmered faintly, a reflection of her own face.

“Elena…”

And then, in a moment of dizzying clarity, she understood. The Echoes weren’t just voices—they were lost souls, trapped in the cycle of their own unanswered calls, waiting for someone to listen.

“Elena, please.”

The echo of her own voice lingered in the air. She closed her eyes and let it fade.

Without another word, she turned and walked away from the well, the voices slowly dying in the distance behind her.

The forest fell silent again.

But this time, the silence wasn’t so heavy.
