In the plains, in the most secluded neighborhood of Teror, stretched a not-so-long road that wound its way through the isolated part of the village. This road was known as "The Echo Curve," a mysterious, chilly place only traversed by those who had the obligation to do so, as it was the sole path to a sector of the neighborhood where the most remote houses were situated. They said that right at the point where the curve bent, where the moonlight refused to penetrate, a phenomenon frequently occurred, one that defied rational explanation, especially in a community steeped in superstition.
Legend had it that anyone who ventured to walk along this solitary path in the darkness of the night would eventually reach that very Echo Curve. At this point, when least expected, just between the pine tree and the wall, a barely audible whisper, nearly indistinguishable from the wind's sound, would rise in the darkness, pronouncing the name of whoever passed by. No one knew for certain where this voice originated, nor why it knew the name of the traveler, but the neighbors' warning remained the same: if you ever heard that call, you must not look back; you must continue your journey without hesitation, and then, nothing would happen to you.
The accounts of those who had witnessed this eerie phenomenon varied in details, but they all shared it as a supernatural anecdote. Although their experiences were vivid and disturbing, most preferred to bury the truth beneath a shroud of denial. The notion that a real person could be lurking in the darkness was considered absurd, especially given that this legend dated back centuries. No one had ever dared to investigate further, choosing to live with uncertainty rather than confront the truth of what or who lurked at the Echo Curve.
On a night of a full moon, I decided to satisfy my insatiable curiosity and ventured onto the path. I made my way through a dense forest of twisted trees and underbrush that, swaying in the wind, seemed to whisper unsettling secrets to me. In the distance, the curve was distinguished by the imposing silhouette of an ancient pine tree that towered over the houses and the surrounding vegetation, shrouded in a premonitory darkness.
My steps echoed in the silence of the night as I approached the curve's point. My senses were so attuned that I even perceived the echoes of my own steps, one after another, as I advanced. When I finally reached the point of no return, a sudden gust of wind startled me, and amid the chilling murmurs, I heard my name whispered through me, sending a shiver down every inch of my skin.
With a racing heart, I quickly retreated from the Echo Curve and ran back along the path, never looking back until I reached the safety of the moonlight.
