Dreadful Voice

Aisha found herself by herself in the old family mansion late one night, with the wind howling outside. The air was cooler and the shadows appeared heavier than usual. She gave herself a tight hug as she shuddered. She was bothered by the voice, not by the cold.

Aisha had been hearing a weird, eerie whisper reverberating down the hallways for the past few evenings. At times, it was barely audible, a soft whisper that could nearly be confused for the sound of leaves rustling. At other moments, it was obvious, almost too obvious, calling her name in a way that made her tremble. The voice was different tonight, though, so she attempted to ignore it, telling herself it was all in her head. It was a clear, piercing yell rather than a whisper.

"Aid me... please."

She had never gone into the basement, where the sound was coming from. It was disorganized, with old family heirlooms that nobody cared to retain and furnishings covered in dust. But that unsettling voice seemed to draw her there tonight.

Her curiosity drew her toward the basement door even as her heart raced and pounded in her ears. She hesitated as her hand brushed the doorknob. She asked herself, "Is this really happening?"

She inhaled deeply before turning the doorknob and opening it. She felt as though the shadows below were beckoning her in with an invisible hand. She moved forward, one step at a time, going down the squeaky wooden stairs. Her footfall reverberated, absorbing into the unsettling silence that enveloped the space.

Abruptly, the voice returned, this time with more volume. "Aisha... I'm holding out.

A shiver went through her. Her breath caught in her throat as she froze. Her voice quivered as she yelled, "Who's there?"

The cellar was enveloped in a dense quiet, akin to a smothering blanket, with no response. She descended the final step, squinting her eyes to make out the faint illumination. At the far end of the basement stood an ancient mirror that reflected a warped picture of the space.

However, the reflection seemed off; it didn't appear to fit the area surrounding her.

Her face looked strange, almost demonic, as her reflection seemed to twist and contort as she drew nearer. She came to a stop in front of the mirror, her reflection giving her an icy, vacant look. She was horrified to see her reflection's lips tremble.

It muttered, "Aisha," even though she hadn't said anything. “You left me…”

With fear flashing in her eyes, she staggered backward. She uttered in a scarcely audible whisper, "This... this can't be real!" But the reflection went on talking. "You're not remembering, are you? Now that you've abandoned me to my agony, I need you.

Her eyes filled with tears as long-buried memories came to the surface again. She had a friend named Mira when she was younger, but she had inexplicably vanished years before.

Aisha had been the last to see Mira on the day she disappeared, and they had played together in this very basement. She was terrified, ashamed, and certain that no one would believe her, so she had kept it a secret.

"No..." "It wasn't my fault," Aisha said.

But the voice continued and grew louder. "You abandoned me! You allowed me to disappear! The reflection's face was contorted in an expression of anguish and rage, and its eyes shone with an odd, unnatural light.

Aisha retreated, her legs quivering. With the words resonating behind her, she turned and bolted up the stairs. You're stuck with me, Aisha! I'll always be here, waiting for you.

Her heart thumping her chest, she slammed the basement door shut. She knew the voice was still there, lurking in the shadows below, even when the house fell silent once more. It served as a reminder of the secrets that never really go away, the guilt, and the terror.

And from that night on, whenever the wind howled and the night grew cold, Aisha would hear the voice once more—a haunting, endless cry that echoed through the halls: “Aisha… I’m still waiting…”