Muse A lives in a small town just a stone’s throw away from a dense forest, called the Whispering Woods. Every afternoon, especially in the fall, when the leaves are changing color and the air is crisp, Muse A likes to walk through the woods on their way home. Muse A sits on the kissing rock at the mouth of the woods, straps up their boots and inhales the fresh pine before embarking on the winding path to the log bridge. As Muse A crosses the log bridge, one foot over the over, they enjoy the soft ‘whispers’ (for which the woods are named after) of the meandering creek below. The whispers always seem louder in October for some reason, almost comprehensible. Townspeople like to say it’s because the woods are haunted by spirits, but Muse A’s never been the superstitious type. They’ve been frequenting the woods since they were a kid and nothing spooky has ever happened to them before.
One afternoon, Muse A encounters Muse B in the thick of the towering pines. Muse B looks lost and disheveled, as if they haven’t had a shower or a proper meal in a few days. Concerned for the unfamiliar wanderer, Muse A offers to guide Muse B out of the woods, back to civilization. Muse B instead asks Muse A to stay with them a while; they want to visit the log bridge, their favorite place. Muse A can see that Muse B is the lonely sort, so they agree to walk to the bridge with Muse B; they were headed there anyway. When the pair arrive at the bridge, Muse B struggles to recall why they found this spot so special, or anything about who they are at all to make conversation with Muse A, but they can’t remember. Muse A insists on helping Muse B leave the woods, worried that Muse B might be suffering from amnesia or something worse, but when Muse A gets to the edge of the woods, Muse B, who they thought was right behind them, is nowhere to be found.
Muse A calls out for Muse B for several minutes and gets no response. The sun is going down and the chill in the air is biting through Muse A’s coat, so they go home. They barely sleep that night, thinking about Muse B and hoping they’re alright, wherever they are. Bright and early the next morning, Muse A returns to the woods, hoping to find Muse B again. Muse B is there at the foot of the log bridge, waiting for Muse A, unsure of how they got there or what’s keeping them bound to these woods. Muse B is a ghost, but doesn’t know it.
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