Whispers of the Hollow Soul

Ever since childhood, Rayan had known there was something wrong with him. Not the kind of wrong that doctors or priests could fix—but a shadow that followed him everywhere. He didn’t remember when it started. Sometimes it was just a faint whisper in his head, a cold voice telling him things he didn’t want to hear. Other times, it was a reflection in the mirror that didn’t quite move the way he did.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. But when his mother screamed one night—swearing she had seen someone else standing in Rayan’s room—the fear became real.

The thing inside him wasn’t just a voice. It wasn’t just a reflection. It was a ghost—his ghost.

He would wake up in strange places, muddy and shivering, with no memory of how he got there. Neighbors began whispering about missing pets, about shadows seen in windows long after midnight. Rayan swore he hadn’t done anything, but deep down, he knew it was him—or rather, the thing that lived inside him.

The ghost wanted control. It wanted freedom. And every time Rayan tried to resist, it grew stronger, feeding on his fear.

One night, as he stared into the cracked mirror in his room, the reflection finally spoke out loud. Its mouth curved into a grin he didn’t make.

“You’re not haunted, Rayan,” it whispered, voice dripping with malice. “You are the haunting.”

And with that, the lights flickered, the glass shattered, and the ghost in him stepped out—free at last.