Once, in a quiet village nestled between misty mountains, there stood an ancient oak tree. The villagers called it the Whispering Tree, for its leaves rustled secrets even on windless nights. No one dared approach it after sunset—until a curious girl named Lila arrived.

Lila had just moved to the village, her heart heavy with loneliness. Her parents warned her about the tree, but its eerie allure tugged at her. One moonlit night, she crept to the tree’s base and pressed her ear against its gnarled bark.

To her surprise, the whispers weren’t frightening. They were stories—of forgotten loves, buried treasures, and stars that had fallen to earth. Each night, Lila returned, scribbling the tales into her notebook. Soon, she began sharing them with the villagers.

The stories healed old wounds, rekindled friendships, and even guided a farmer to hidden water during a drought. The tree, once feared, became a symbol of hope. Lila realized the whispers weren’t meant to be hoarded; they were meant to be passed on.

Years later, when Lila left the village, the tree’s final whisper followed her: “Stories live when they are told.”