The Voice in the Closet

The first time she heard it, it was just a whisper. A thread of sound in the heavy stillness of 2:14 a.m. Not a creak. Not the pipes. No. A voice.

— Are you awake?

Lucie froze. It came from the closet. Or rather, from the wall behind the closet. But there was nothing there. Just the wall. And beyond the wall, an empty garden.

She didn’t answer. Who would? She pulled the blanket over her head and waited for daylight to dilute the strangeness. In the morning, everything looked normal. Too normal. The room felt too still, too quiet.

The second time, it was a song. Whispered, barely formed. Lucie vaguely recognized the melody. Something old. Distant. Like a lullaby hummed in an attic. Her skin prickled.

The voice was female. Young. Gentle. But oddly... sad? As if she were singing with a hand over her mouth. As if she were both very close and impossibly far away.

Lucie pressed her ear to the wall. Nothing. But when she stepped back... yes. The song returned. A cruel game.

It lasted for nights. Weeks.

Sometimes a word. Sometimes laughter. A sigh. A story half-spoken, unraveling. A voice speaking to someone else. Sometimes to her.

Lucie thought she was going mad. She recorded it. Nothing. She moved the closet. Scratched at the wall. Nothing. Stone. Cold. Solid.

But the voice remained. Intimate. Faithful. Impossible to prove.

One night, she asked:

— Who are you?

And the voice replied:

— You forgot me.

Since then, memories returned.

Blurry scraps of childhood. A room that looked similar but wasn’t quite the same. Screams in the night. Arms that weren’t there. And another voice, even younger, begging to be heard.

Lucie searched. She asked. The adults dodged. Her mother changed the subject. Her father sternly: “You were a child. You dreamt.”

But she knew. It wasn’t a dream. It was a broken promise. A secret walled in.

And every night, the voice returned. Clearer. More alive.

Lucie remembered. Bit by bit. Until one night, with a steady voice, she whispered:

— I remember you.

And then, from the wall, someone cried.

And then... nothing.

Never again.