First Person Pov Example

The Whisper of the Forgotten Forest

The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth as I stepped into the Forgotten Forest. My boots crunched against the layer of fallen needles, each step a silent plea to the trees not to give away my presence. I had heard the stories—whispers of ancient spirits guarding the heart of the woods, of travelers who vanished without a trace. But I wasn’t here for adventure. I was here for answers.

My sister, Lila, had disappeared six months ago. The police called it a runaway case, but I knew better. Lila wouldn’t leave without her sketchbook, and she certainly wouldn’t abandon our ailing mother. The last clue was a letter she’d left on my desk: “If you’re reading this, I’ve found it. Come to the Forgotten Forest. Trust no one.”

The forest seemed to close in around me as I ventured deeper. The sunlight filtered through the canopy in jagged shards, casting eerie shadows on the moss-covered stones. My heart pounded as I spotted a trail of red yarn tied around tree trunks—Lila’s signature. She always said it was a way to “leave breadcrumbs” in case she got lost.

Following the yarn, I stumbled upon a clearing where the air felt colder, heavier. In the center stood an ancient oak, its bark gnarled and twisted like the hands of time itself. At its base was a hollow, just large enough for a person to crawl into. My breath caught. This was it.

I knelt, peering into the darkness. “Lila?” My voice trembled, echoing faintly.

“Over here,” came a weak reply.

Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived. As I crawled inside, my hand brushed against something sharp—a piece of broken glass. Lila lay huddled in the corner, her face pale, her once-vibrant red hair dull and matted. Beside her was her sketchbook, its pages filled with frantic drawings of the forest, the oak, and something else—a figure with antlers, its eyes glowing like embers.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I found it,” she murmured, her eyes darting to the sketchbook. “The Heartwood. It’s real. But it’s not just a tree—it’s alive. It… it took me.”

I didn’t understand. The Heartwood was a myth, a legend told by the villagers to scare children. But as I looked closer at the drawings, I saw it—the figure with antlers, its presence looming in every sketch. My skin prickled.

“We need to leave,” I said, helping her to her feet. “Now.”

As we crawled out of the hollow, the forest seemed to shift. The shadows deepened, and the air grew colder. From the corner of my eye, I saw it—the figure from the sketches, standing just beyond the oak. Its antlers gleamed like polished bone, its eyes burning with an otherworldly light.

“Run,” Lila gasped, grabbing my arm.

We sprinted through the forest, the red yarn our only guide. Behind us, the trees creaked and groaned as if alive, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The figure was gaining on us, its footsteps silent but its presence suffocating.

We burst out of the treeline, gasping for air, the forest’s edge a welcome sight. But as I turned back, the Heartwood stood tall, its branches swaying as if in warning. The figure was gone, but I knew it wasn’t over.

Lila clutched her sketchbook to her chest, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. “It wants the book,” she said. “It thinks I’m the key.”

I didn’t ask what she meant. I just nodded, my mind racing. Whatever was happening, we were in it together.

As we walked away from the Forgotten Forest, the weight of its secrets pressed on my shoulders. I glanced back once more, the oak’s silhouette stark against the fading light. The forest had given me my sister back, but it had also given us a new enemy.

And I had a feeling this was only the beginning.

This first-person POV example combines suspense, mystery, and folklore, immersing the reader in the protagonist’s journey while leaving room for interpretation and further exploration.