Whispers in the Shadows
Volume 1: Night Terrors
by
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We crossed the Louisiana state line just after midnight, about the time our bottoms began to go numb. And to tell the truth, Louisiana has an entirely different temperament from what we were accustomed to. Especially at night. Like us, if you’re not from Cajun Country, you notice the change of atmosphere instantaneously. Don’t get me wrong, every city along the interstate was teeming with life, just like any other state, but it’s between those cities that a bizarre phenomenon occurs: a haunting sensation envelops you. Nothing exists in those areas. Nothing besides dismal darkness and ill-natured vibes. It’s creepy as hell. And with both of us being in our mid-twenties, neither one of us had any real experience at driving through such a peculiar shade of nothingness. It was so dark and spooky, in fact, that the moon itself seemed to be too afraid to touch the wooded wetlands. And where there’s no light in the late hours of Louisiana, the bitter sensation of being watched by something devilish lurking in the shadows persistently chips away at your sanity, causing ice crystals to form in your bone marrow. It’s the type of sensation that causes you to strongly consider turning around and carrying your ass back home, where you’re familiar with the demons in your own backyard. My nerves were on edge. And thanks to reading a couple stories in Whispers in the Shadows, my mind was traveling alone in an uncharted realm. I was literally on the verge of freaking the hell out. But hey, what’s a trip without a little bit of excitement, right? Little did I know, I would soon get exactly what I’d ask for—excitement. Jake was still driving, making damned good time. I’d just began corralling my nerves when his head suddenly snapped to his left, and he ungracefully croaked, “What—the fuck—was that?” The tone of his voice compelled me to truly consider spinning our car around and toting our asses back to Sheboygan. But before I allowed myself to make any rash decisions, I first had to ask, “What the hell are you talking about, Jake?” “I know you’re not going to believe me, Tara.” His voice was a vocalized rattle. “But I swear I just saw a crazy-looking pair of green eyes staring at me from just outside my window. All I saw was eyes. Nothing else.” On more than one occasion both Jake and I had heard stories about how haunted Louisiana was. But this was a whole new level of creepy. “That’s not funny, Jake! Stop fucking with me!” Every nerve in my body crystallized. Goose bumps pushed an icy wave across my flesh. And it only got worse when Jake’s voice turned to stone. “Tara—I’m dead serious.” His face was as pale and blank as a sheet of typing paper. In the two years we’d been dating, I’d never seen him that unnerved. Not even once. So seeing that expression consume his face, especially while he was behind the wheel, scared the absolute shit out of me. But the “fun” had only just begun. Before I could respond, Jake’s head again jolted to his left. And in that very same instant, in the edge of my periphery, I saw something materialize several yards in front of our car. That was when I realized we were both completely unprepared for this trip and the events unfolding. I wasn’t sure what stole Jake’s focus from the road, but it snatched his full undivided attention. As for me, the entity that had snared my sights was a woman. And she was hovering about a foot above the pavement. She seemed to be frozen in a period of time long forgotten. Her flesh was a marbled silhouette, sparkling in the moonlight. Blood and mud splotched her moon-colored see-through gown, yet somehow it radiated a silver contrast against the darkness. Her hair portrayed the illusion of black snakes dancing in the wind. But the strangest part of it all was her eyes. They were open—but missing. Jake shouted, “There they are again!” A split second later, I pointed just beyond our hood and shrieked, “Watch out!” But it was too late. At seventy-five miles per hour, her body exploded on impact. The violent collision of metal against flesh heaved blood, guts, meat, and bone into a morbid shower that, disturbing to witness, somehow pulled itself back into humanoid form before it ever touched the concrete. It was the strangest damned thing I had ever observed. I wasn’t sure whether I had truly seen it or if my imagination had been maliciously influenced by my book. Whichever the case, it was enough to make a believer out of me—Louisiana was definitely haunted! Jake’s boot punched the brake pedal, and we skidded for what felt like a thousand feet before coming to a sideways halt. I clenched Jake’s knee and rattled, “Oh my god, Jake! I think we just killed someo—” But a flashing image cut my rambling short. In my mind’s eye, I pinpointed the gapes where the floating woman’s eyes were supposed to be. They appeared to be peering into my soul. That was when a startling epiphany struck me: That
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About the Book
Are you afraid of the dark If not, you should be. Strange things happen while youre asleep. e dead speak to the living, revealing their deepest, darkest secrets. Whispers permeate every nook and cranny of your mind, transforming your subconsciousness into a portal of harrowing imagery. Dreams become nightmares. Nightmares become reality. Cold sweats drench your body, and you shudder, afraid these whispers have foretold the ominous future. ese fourteen short stories will take you places you didnt know existed. ey will invoke emotions you have not yet experienced, and leave you trapped somewhere between chimera and reality. For in the depths of these dismal pages, the dead, in fact, do speak. ey whisper night terrors, stories of unfathomable specters, delusional psychos, altered perceptions, and plain old-fashioned strange occurrences. ese night terrors will make your skin crawl. Are you prepared to listen when the dead decide to speak
About the Author
David Pisani is a native Louisianan, born with an eccentric taste for the mystique and macabre. In the midst of his teenage years, his morbid fascination with death and paranormal activity often compelled him to wander alone into graveyards and other mysterious places. It was during those years when the dreams began—dreams most others would consider nightmares. As a man who never attended college, David is a self-taught author. At the age of forty-six he began scribing his most memorable dreams and translating them into comprehensible short stories. Thirteen months later, the first volume of his Whispers In The Shadows series was born. This is David’s first book, and he is fully aware that there are plenty of amateurish aspects within it. He has chosen to leave them unaltered because he would like for everyone to track his evolution as a writer throughout his works, in hopes that he can inspire others to write—and perhaps even publish—their stories. Currently David has written over thirty short stories. He still lives in Louisiana, where he persistently wanders alone through graveyards and other mysterious places, listening to the haunting sounds of Whispers In The Shadows.