whispers in the wall

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That night, as they sat in the living room attempting to unpack, the house seemed to grow colder. The floorboards creaked, as though someone—or something—was walking above them. Eliza shook her head, blaming the old house's natural settling, but there was a tension in the air she couldn't ignore.

As the hours passed, Eliza felt herself growing more restless. She went upstairs to the guest room she was supposed to sleep in, hoping the change in scenery would calm her nerves. She lay in bed, the old blankets scratchy and thick, but sleep wouldn't come.

Then, there it was.

A faint whisper—so quiet at first that she thought she imagined it. She sat up in bed, straining to hear. The whisper came again, this time louder, more distinct. It was coming from the walls.

"Eliza…"

Her name. Just barely audible, but it was there, unmistakable.

She threw off the covers and stood, heart pounding, trying to listen again. The voice was so soft, as though it was coming from behind the plaster. She pressed her ear against the wall, and in that moment, the house seemed to hold its breath.

"Eliza…"

The whisper grew clearer, but it was no longer just her name—it was a plea. A warning.

"Leave…"

Eliza stumbled back from the wall, her pulse racing. Her eyes darted to the doorway, half-expecting someone—or something—to be standing there, but the hallway was empty. She was alone.

"Okay, okay, I'm just freaking out," she whispered to herself, trying to steady her breath. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't alone in the house anymore.

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