Elena swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the flashlight. The whisper had been clear—too clear. Her name, spoken softly, as if someone stood just beyond the reach of her light.
The stairs loomed before her, their wooden steps worn and cracked. She hesitated, then forced herself to move.
One step.
Two.
The house groaned around her, shifting like a living thing. A cold draft slipped past, brushing her neck.
Three steps.
Her breath came faster now. The whisper had stopped, but the silence was worse. Thick. Heavy.
Four steps.
A floorboard creaked above.
Elena froze.
Someone—or something—was up there.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the sudden vibration making her jump. She fumbled it out, hands shaking.
Mia: You okay?
She exhaled, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What was she supposed to say? Yeah, just hearing voices in an empty house?
She settled on: All good. Just exploring.
No response. The read receipt never appeared.
She pocketed the phone and climbed the last few steps. The upstairs hallway stretched before her—long, dark, lined with closed doors. The air smelled stale, like dust and something older, something decayed.
Her flashlight flickered.
A door at the end of the hallway creaked open.
Elena's stomach twisted. She hadn't touched it.
The whisper came again, barely audible.
"Elena…"
Her breath hitched.
Then—movement.
A shadow slipped across the doorway, vanishing into the room beyond.
She wanted to turn and run. Every part of her screamed to get out, to leave this house and never look back.
But something pulled her forward.
She stepped toward the open door.
And something stepped closer to her from the darkness inside.