Whispers From The Other Side

Elara scrambled to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she stared at the words scrawled on the wall.

"He is awake."

The red streaks dripped down like fresh blood, though Elara told herself it had to be something else. Paint. Rust. Anything but blood.

She took a shaky step back.

The doll remained in its chair, its cracked porcelain face frozen in that unnatural, knowing smile.

Something about it felt wrong.

Like it was waiting.

Elara clenched her fists, forcing herself to think. The vision, the whispers, the skeletal hand—whatever was haunting this place, it was getting stronger. And now, it had a message for her.

But who was "he"?

And why was he awake now?

A loud bang echoed from the hallway, cutting off her thoughts.

Elara spun around, heart hammering. The sound had come from downstairs. The front door?

For the first time since stepping into this house, she felt the prickle of something new. Dread.

She wasn't alone anymore.

Something—or someone—was in the house with her.

Elara forced herself to move. She reached for her flashlight, but her fingers were so numb that she nearly dropped it. The beam flickered as she stepped cautiously out of the room and back into the hallway.

The house was silent.

Too silent.

The kind of silence that listens.

She started down the stairs, each step creaking beneath her weight. The temperature remained icy, her breath visible in the dim light.

Halfway down, she froze.

A shadow moved at the base of the staircase.

Not a flicker of light. A solid shape.

Someone was standing there.

Elara's grip tightened on the flashlight, her pulse thundering. "Hello?" she called, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

No answer.

The shadow didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Elara lifted the flashlight, angling it toward the figure.

The beam flickered—

And vanished.

Darkness swallowed the house, thick and absolute.

Elara's stomach dropped. She smacked the flashlight against her palm, but it wouldn't turn back on.

Then—

A slow, deliberate footstep.

The shadow was moving toward her.

Elara staggered back, heart pounding in her throat. She fumbled for her phone, but before she could grab it, a voice—low, deep, and wrong—whispered from the darkness.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Ice sliced through her veins.

She turned and ran.

She didn't care where—just away.

The house seemed to shift around her, walls stretching, doors slamming shut before she could reach them. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she stumbled through the darkness.

She had to get out.

She had to—

A hand clamped around her wrist.

Cold. Unforgiving.

Elara screamed.

The darkness swallowed her whole.