The Forest Beyond The River

THE FOREST BEYOND THE RIVER

A Novel by Libni R. Richard

Episode 1

The Night the River Spoke

The night was not normal.

It was the kind of night that made the world feel… wrong. The wind did not move, the trees did not shake, and even the insects—those small, restless creatures that usually filled the darkness with sound—were completely silent. It was as if something had reached into the world and pressed pause on everything that lived and breathed.

The village of Amani lay still under the dim glow of the moon, its small huts resting quietly beneath the shadow of the surrounding hills. Usually, at this hour, there would still be soft murmurs—low voices, distant laughter, the crackle of fading fires. But not tonight. Tonight, there was nothing.

Nothing… except the river.

Then it came.

A sound.

Deep, low, and slow. It rolled across the land like distant thunder, yet the sky was clear—no clouds, no storm, no rain. Just that sound.

It came again, stronger this time. Not loud, but powerful enough to be felt, not just heard. It moved through the ground, through the air… through the body.

In a small hut near the edge of the village, Kofi’s eyes snapped open.

He didn’t know why he was awake—not at first. His heart was already beating faster than normal, as if it had sensed something before his mind could understand it. Then he heard it again.

That sound.

He sat up slowly, holding his breath without realizing it. The silence in the room felt heavy—too heavy. He listened carefully.

Again.

That same deep vibration, coming from far away, yet somehow strangely close.

Kofi swallowed. “What is that…?” he whispered to himself.

No answer came. Only the sound.

He pushed aside the thin cloth covering the doorway and stepped outside. The cool night air touched his skin, but it did nothing to calm the uneasy feeling growing inside him.

The moon hung low in the sky, larger than usual, casting a pale silver light across the village. The shadows it created stretched long and dark across the ground like silent watchers.

Everything looked the same—the huts, the paths, the distant hills. But something felt different. Wrong. Alive.

Then Kofi looked ahead.

Toward the river.

Even from where he stood, he could see it—a faint shimmer. The surface of the water glowed softly, not like fire, but unnaturally, as if something beneath it was moving.

Watching.

Waiting.

His chest tightened as the sound came again. This time, he was certain—it was coming from the river.

Without thinking, Kofi took a step forward. Then another. Something inside him was pulling him—not physically, but strongly enough that ignoring it felt impossible.

He didn’t understand it.

And yet… he wanted to.

“You heard it too… didn’t you?”

Kofi froze.

The voice came from behind him—calm, quiet, but heavy with meaning. He turned quickly.

His grandmother stood there, just a few steps away. He hadn’t even heard her come out.

Her eyes were fixed on him—not angry, not confused.

Serious.

More serious than he had ever seen before.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of the river filled the silence between them.

“You must not go near that river tonight,” she said.

Her voice was firm. Not a suggestion. Not a warning.

A command.

Kofi frowned slightly. “But why?” he asked, his curiosity stronger than his fear.

His grandmother did not answer immediately. Instead, she turned slowly toward the river. The faint glow reflected in her eyes.

And for the first time in his life, Kofi saw something he had never seen before.

Fear.

“That river…” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, “…does not call people for no reason.”

Kofi’s heart skipped. “Call?” he repeated.

But his grandmother had already turned away.

“Go inside,” she said. “Now.”

He hesitated for a moment, then obeyed.

But that night, sleep never came.

He lay on his mat, staring into the darkness. The sound continued—slow, steady, unstoppable. Each time it came, it felt closer, stronger, like it was reaching for him.

Calling him.

Kofi turned to his side and covered his ears, but it didn’t help. The sound wasn’t just outside anymore. It was inside him—echoing in his chest, in his thoughts, in the dreams that refused to form.

“Why me…?” he whispered.

But deep down, he already knew the truth.

It wasn’t just him.

It was something about him.

By morning, everything had changed.

And yet… nothing had changed at all.

The village was alive again. Children ran through the paths laughing. Women carried baskets while talking and smiling. Men prepared for the day’s work.

It was as if the night had never happened.

Kofi stood still, watching, confused.

“How can they not know?” he thought. “How can they not hear it?”

He looked toward the river.

It was calm. Quiet. Normal.

Like it had done nothing at all.

But Kofi knew better.

Something had happened.

Something real.

Later that day, he found himself walking—not thinking, just moving.

Step by step.

Toward the river.

The closer he got, the quieter everything became again. Not completely silent like the night before, but enough to make him uneasy.

Then he saw it.

And stopped.

Footprints.

Fresh ones.

Clear in the soft ground near the riverbank.

Kofi’s eyes widened as he moved closer, slowly and carefully.

The footprints led straight into the water—step by step—until they disappeared beneath the surface.

He looked around quickly.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer.

His heart began to pound as he looked back at the footprints, then at the river, then back again.

“There should be more…” he whispered. “Where are the ones coming back?”

But there were none.

A cold feeling spread through his body. The air suddenly felt heavier. The river… too still. Too quiet.

Kofi took a step back.

Then another.

Behind him, a voice whispered:

“You’re not the first to hear it.”

Kofi spun around instantly.

“Who’s there?!”

Nothing.

No one.

Only the trees.

Only silence.

His breathing quickened as his eyes searched everywhere, but there was no one.

Slowly, he turned back toward the river.

And this time… something had changed.

The fear was still there—strong and real—but it was no longer the only thing he felt.

There was something else.

Something deeper.

Stronger.

Curiosity.

A question that refused to go away. A feeling that pulled him forward instead of pushing him back.

“What is really out there…?” he thought.

The river did not answer.

It simply waited.

And in that moment—standing between fear and curiosity—Kofi made a silent decision.

He would find out.

No matter what it took.

And that…

was the moment everything began.