The Night the Woods Went Still
- TH.Malcolm
- Jan 29
- 1 min read
The night the woods went still, we felt it before we heard it.
No wind.
No crickets.
No night birds.
Just a silence so heavy it pressed against the windows like a warning.
My uncle paused mid-sentence, head tilted, eyes tracking something I couldn’t see.
The dog crawled under the table, shaking like the floorboards were ice. He knew a truth we didn’t.
Then—deep in the trees—a twig snapped.
Just one.
Close.
My uncle whispered, “That ain’t an animal.”
And for the rest of my life, I’ve remembered the way the dark leaned in, listening with us.
