Evelyn stood at the edge of the widening hole in the floor, her pulse hammering in her chest.
The whispers curled around her, slipping into her ears like a song she had long forgotten.
"Come back."
"You left us."
"You need to see."
Her legs trembled. The thing in the corner was no longer watching—it was waiting.
It knew what she had to do.
And deep down, so did she.
She took a shaking breath.
Then—she stepped forward.
The Fall
The moment her foot touched the broken wood, the ground collapsed beneath her.
She plunged downward, the walls stretching into a long, endless tunnel. The air roared past her ears, the darkness swallowing her whole.
It was too deep.
There shouldn't have been anything beneath the house—but there was.
Then—impact.
She landed hard on a cold, damp surface, the wind knocked from her lungs. The fall should have broken bones, but she was intact.
A slow, rhythmic drip echoed around her.
She pushed herself up, blinking against the darkness.
She was in a cavern.
A massive, underground space, its walls slick with moisture, roots twisting like veins across the stone. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something rotting.
And then—
A single, faint light in the distance.
A lantern, flickering in the dark.
She hesitated, her fingers clenching into fists.
There was no going back.
She had to move forward.
The Underground Hallway
Evelyn walked cautiously toward the lantern, her footsteps muffled by the damp ground.
As she neared, the dim light revealed a wooden door built into the stone wall.
Her breath hitched.
It was the same door from her childhood memory.
The one she had opened.
The one that had let something out.
Her hands shook as she reached for the handle. It was cold beneath her fingers, slick with moisture.
She swallowed hard—
And pushed it open.
The Forgotten Room
The room beyond was small, suffocating, with wooden beams arching overhead.
An old table sat in the center, covered in papers and books, their pages yellowed with age.
And against the far wall—
A crib.
Evelyn froze.
It was covered in dust, the wood chipped and worn. But she recognized it.
A memory surged forward, sharp and painful.
Her mother's voice, whispering in the dark.
"Hush, don't listen to them. Don't let them in."
The air in the room grew colder.
She took a step closer, her hands trembling.
Something moved inside the crib.
A slow, deliberate shift of fabric.
A lump beneath an old, moth-eaten blanket.
Evelyn's throat tightened.
She knew she shouldn't.
But she reached out—
And pulled the blanket back.
The Child in the Dark
For a moment, there was nothing.
Just an empty crib.
Then—
Fingers.
Tiny, gray fingers, curling over the edges of the wooden bars.
A shadow rose, lifting itself from the darkness within the crib.
A child's face stared up at her—hollow-eyed, its skin ashen, its mouth stitched shut.
Evelyn staggered back, choking on a scream.
The child moved.
Not crawling—gliding.
It lifted a hand, reaching toward her.
And then—
A voice.
Not the child's.
Something bigger. Deeper. Ancient.
"You should not have come back."
The shadows in the room exploded outward, swallowing everything in darkness.
And Evelyn was dragged into the void.
Beneath the Crib
Evelyn's scream was lost in the darkness as the shadows swallowed her whole.
The air shifted around her, thick and heavy, like she had plunged into deep water. There was no ground beneath her feet, no walls to hold onto—only the endless black.
Then—
A sudden stop.
She hit solid ground with a force that rattled her bones. The impact should have hurt, but the sensation was strange—muted, distant. Like she wasn't fully in her own body anymore.
Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she forced herself up, blinking against the crushing dark.
It took a moment before she realized—
She could see.
Not by light.
But by something else entirely.
The space around her was massive, stretching outward in all directions. Strange symbols covered the walls, pulsing with a dull, sickly glow. The air was damp, thick with the scent of earth, mold, and something faintly metallic.
And then—
She saw it.
The Figures in the Dark
At first, she thought they were statues.
Rows of figures, standing motionless in the cavern's depths, their forms barely visible in the dim glow.
But then—
One of them moved.
Evelyn's breath hitched.
A slow, unnatural twitch—a tilt of the head, the cracking of joints that hadn't moved in years.
And then—another.
And another.
The figures stirred, their heads turning toward her one by one.
The shadows around them shifted, peeling away like smoke, revealing what they really were.
Not statues.
Not humans.
But something else.
Their skin was stretched too tight, their limbs unnaturally elongated. Their faces had no eyes—only deep, black hollows where they should have been.
And worst of all—
Their mouths were stitched shut.
Just like the child in the crib.
Evelyn's stomach twisted as the whispering began again—not from the figures themselves, but from the air around her.
"You let us in."
She stumbled backward, her heart hammering. "No—no, I didn't—"
But the moment she spoke, the whisper changed.
It became laughter.
Low. Amused.
Mocking.
The figures moved, stepping forward in unison, their heads still tilted at unnatural angles.
The cavern shuddered.
The ground beneath her groaned.
And then—
The crib.
It was here.
In the center of the cavern.
She didn't know how, but it had followed her.
The Whispered Name
The whispers grew louder, wrapping around her like hands pressing against her skin.
"You must remember."
"Say the name."
Her body locked up.
Something inside her mind lurched, like a door she had kept closed for years was being forced open.
She didn't want to remember.
She couldn't.
But the crib was waiting.
And inside—something shifted.
Evelyn's chest tightened. The air became too thick to breathe.
Her eyes burned as the memories began to surface.
A voice.
A name.
A promise she had broken.
"Evelyn."
She flinched.
Not her name.
Not the whispers.
Something else.
Something older.
It came from inside the crib.
With shaking hands, Evelyn reached forward—
And pulled back the blanket again.
This time—she saw it.
Not a child.
Not a corpse.
But something worse.
Something that had been waiting for her to come back.
And the moment she saw its face—she remembered everything.
Her vision blurred.
The cavern collapsed.
And the whispers turned into screams.