The Whispering Shadows

Emily sighed as she dropped the last moving box on the wooden floor of her new home. The century-old Victorian house stood proudly at the end of a quiet street, its white paint peeling slightly, giving it a charming yet eerie look.

She had gotten it at a steal—far cheaper than it should have been. “Probably just because it’s old,” she had told herself when signing the papers. But now, standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t entirely alone.

The First Whisper

That night, as she settled into bed, a faint whisper tickled her ear.

"Leave now… before it sees you."

Emily jolted upright, her heart hammering. She grabbed her phone and scanned the room with its flashlight, but nothing was there.

“Just my imagination,” she muttered, lying back down.

But the whispers didn’t stop. Every night, the same hushed voice would return, pleading, desperate.

"You have to go… you’re not safe…"

Some nights, she could almost feel a presence in the shadows, watching her. The air would turn icy cold, even though the summer heat outside was unbearable.

The History of the House

Determined to prove she wasn’t losing her mind, Emily visited the town library the next day. An old newspaper article caught her eye:

“Local Woman Vanishes Without a Trace – 1998”

Her breath caught in her throat. The missing woman, Margaret Holloway, was the previous owner of Emily’s house.

The librarian, an elderly woman, noticed Emily’s concern. “That house…” she said in a hushed voice. “Margaret lived there alone. Then one night, she was just… gone. No forced entry. No signs of struggle. Just gone.”

Emily felt a chill creep down her spine.

The Shadows Take Shape

That night, the whispers grew frantic. The temperature in her bedroom plummeted, her breath turning into mist. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to shift and pulse.

Then, for the first time, she saw her.

Margaret.

Her translucent form flickered in the dim moonlight, eyes wide with fear. “You have to go,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Before it finds you.”

Emily swallowed hard. “Before what finds me?”

The room grew darker, as if something had absorbed the light. The shadows on the walls stretched unnaturally, twisting toward her.

"It took me," Margaret whispered, her voice almost breaking. "It feeds on the ones who live here. I tried to fight it, but I was too late."

A sudden creak echoed from the hallway. The shadows slithered forward. Emily couldn’t move.

"RUN!" Margaret screamed, her ghostly hand pointing at the door.

The Escape

Emily bolted. She didn’t stop to grab anything—not her phone, not her keys. She yanked the front door open and sprinted outside, not daring to look back.

The whispers turned into a chorus of agonized screams as the door slammed shut behind her.

She never went back.

A week later, she listed the house for sale. The real estate agent was confused when Emily insisted on selling it for far less than what she had paid.

Somewhere inside the house, in the dark corners of the rooms, the shadows waited.