The House That Hummed at Night

When Adeel signed the rental contract for the old house at the edge of town, he thought he had struck gold. The rent was half of what other landlords demanded, the neighborhood was quiet, and the landlord seemed eager to hand him the keys.

The only thing the man had said, almost as a joke, was: “The house makes noises. Don’t let it scare you.”

Adeel smiled at the memory as he carried his boxes in. He had grown up in noisy houses—pipes groaning, floors creaking, wind rattling through windows. He wasn’t afraid of wood and stone.

But the first night changed his certainty.

The Hum

It started just past midnight. A low vibration, like the sound of an electric transformer or a refrigerator left running. Except it wasn’t coming from the appliances. It came from the walls themselves.

Adeel placed his palm against the plaster, and the sound traveled into his bones. A deep hum, steady, pulsing like a heartbeat. He checked the power breakers, the wiring, the plumbing. Nothing explained it.

The sound faded near dawn. He laughed it off as city stress, or maybe tinnitus. But the next night, it returned. Louder. This time, he thought he could hear something beneath the hum—like faint voices trying to push through.

The Neighbors

On his third day, Adeel tried to ask the neighbors about the house. An old woman watering her plants glanced at him nervously when he mentioned the humming.

“You’re living there?” she asked. Her hands trembled on the watering can.

“Yes. It’s cheap, and—”

“Don’t stay long.”

That was all she said before retreating inside. The curtains of other houses twitched when he walked by, but no one else would meet his eyes.

The Whispers

By the fifth night, sleep was impossible. The hum was no longer just a vibration. It had become rhythmic, like chanting. Adeel pressed his ear to the floorboards, the walls, even the ceiling.

He heard names.

Not his. Not yet. But names whispered in a language he half-recognized, as if they belonged to people who had lived in the house long ago.

Then came the scratching. From beneath the floor, from inside the walls. A frantic, clawing sound.

He lifted a floorboard in desperation. The wood splintered under his crowbar. Dust filled the air, but beneath the boards, there was nothing. Just black soil.

But the humming grew louder, as if pleased.

The History

Sleep-deprived and shaking, Adeel searched the town records. The house had been built in 1934. Its first owners had vanished within two years. The next tenants stayed less than six months. Again and again, families moved in and disappeared. The records didn’t say where they went. Just that the property kept being “repossessed.”

He looked up news archives. There were mentions of missing persons. Always connected to the same street. Always fading from public memory after a few weeks.

The landlord hadn’t lied. The house made noises. He had just failed to say why.

The Name

That night, Adeel packed a bag. He planned to leave before dawn. But as he zipped it shut, the hum began again—deeper, heavier, like a thousand voices speaking as one.

This time, the sound wasn’t in the walls. It was inside his chest.

The voices stopped chanting strangers’ names.

They whispered his.

“Adeel.”

The syllables crawled across the air, cold and patient. He dropped the bag. The lights flickered, and the air thickened like he was breathing water.

The floorboards began to bend upward, as if something beneath them wanted to emerge.

“Adeel.”

He ran to the door. It wouldn’t open. He yanked at the handle until his hands bled, but it stayed locked.

Behind him, the floor split. Darkness gaped, not soil this time but a void that pulsed with the same hum.

Hands—thin, gray, finger-bone hands—reached out from the blackness. They weren’t pulling him in. They were inviting him.

He screamed as the humming filled his skull, louder than thought. The last thing he felt before being dragged down was the vibration steadying into a single, triumphant note.

The house grew quiet.

Epilogue

A month later, a new “For Rent” sign appeared outside. The landlord smiled as he showed the house to a young couple.

“It’s old,” he said casually. “Makes a few noises at night. But don’t worry—nothing dangerous.”

The couple laughed and agreed.

As they left, the landlord placed his hand against the wall.

It was humming.