Creatures That Don't Bite | A New Beginning

AVISO

This will not be a book with a long, complex plot, but rather an idea I am trying to put into practice for something larger in the future. The texts will not be extensive or filled with excessive detail, but they won't be so brief as to make the story incomprehensible.

This is a project in development where I intend to exercise my creativity and improve my writing. This work is intended for audiences over 18 and may contain emotional triggers throughout the chapters, as well as some grammatical errors due to my dysgraphia.

The narrator may change throughout the chapters as I write this story. Sometimes the narrative will be in the first person, other times in the third. If you do not like this type of storytelling, I recommend you do not continue.

You have been warned. Enjoy the read.

Whisperglen: A New Beginning 

As the car climbed the winding road, the engine hummed softly, surrounded by tall, twisted trees that blocked any ray of light trying to penetrate the foliage. A dense fog covered everything, limiting visibility to just a few meters. The windshield fogged up with fine droplets of rain while the wipers moved monotonously back and forth.

Thiago looked out the window, trying to see past the white and gray veil covering the asphalt. Whisperglen was located near the mountain peak, isolated from the rest of the world by miles of steep, desolate climbing. It had been hours since they had passed anyone; the isolation of the place gave him brief chills.

— So... shouldn't this place be busier? For a town that houses a large mining company, it seems a bit... deserted — he said, breaking the silence and shifting his gaze from the fog-covered landscape to his father.

His father, Samuel, frowned and gripped the steering wheel firmly.

— The company offered me the position here precisely because no outsiders want to come. They say this area was once busy, but the residents left little by little. Nowadays, it's just a lonely little place — he sighed, scratching the bridge of his nose. — At least we’ll be well-paid.

Thiago raised an eyebrow.

— Right, but why? It doesn't make sense. Despite all this fog, this place should be bustling. But there doesn't seem to be anyone living around here.

Samuel sighed, hesitating before answering.

— I’ve heard some stories. Something about the atmosphere here, the constant storms... they say the cold never leaves and the fog never fully clears. The old residents thought it was a bad omen, but in the end, I think it was just the environment and the long distance from other cities. Places like this aren't for everyone.

Thiago didn't respond immediately. Harsh conditions and isolation were acceptable justifications, but something inside him wasn't convinced. There was a sense of weight in the air, something beyond the cold and humidity permeating the environment.

The car passed under an old stone arch with the name "Whisperglen" engraved on its worn surface. Despite the isolation, the town didn't look abandoned. The houses remained intact, built to withstand the rigorous climate; the streets showed no signs of wear, and despite the lack of movement, the businesses—large and small—seemed to thrive.

The wet cobblestone ground reflected the yellow lights of the residences and the few establishments still open that day. The boy arched an eyebrow before letting out a low chuckle.

— At least we won't be living completely alone, after all.

On the sidewalks, a few passersby stopped to watch the vehicle pass. There was no rush in their movements, nor friendly expressions; their faces were unknown—artificial, even a bit fake. Their gazes were long and calculating, as if they were evaluating and measuring the presence of strangers.

Thiago felt a shiver run down his spine.

— Welcome to our new home — Samuel murmured, parking the car in front of a two-story residence surrounded by a rusty fence. Its walls, once painted in a soft tone, now displayed damp stains and discreet cracks, almost hidden under vines that grew uncontrollably, tangling themselves in the edges of the roof and framing the windows in dark, natural borders.

The front garden, which might have once held some beauty, was now just a desolate space covered in weeds and dry branches. The grass was yellowed and thin, with patches of exposed dirt where life seemed to have given up on flourishing. An old wooden vase, fallen on its side, revealed hard soil without any sign of cultivation for a long time. The surrounding silence was broken only by the rustling of dry leaves accumulating in the corners of the porch, where a forgotten rocking chair remained motionless, as if waiting for someone who would never return—or for someone who should never have arrived.

Thiago swallowed hard as he felt the icy wind prickle the hair on the back of his neck. For the first time since the move, he felt that something was truly wrong. The environment, the inhabitants, the weather... nothing felt right. There was a strangeness in the air, a disturbing sensation that clung to the skin like a persistent frost.

Maybe, just maybe, that town was hiding something. Something that neither he nor his father were meant to discover.