The Silent Visitor

Ellie had always found comfort in her late-night reading sessions, curled up in the corner of her apartment with the city lights twinkling just outside her window. Tonight was no different. She’d brewed a cup of tea, wrapped herself in a blanket, and nestled into her reading chair, unaware of the silent visitor who waited patiently in the shadows.

It was the clock’s steady ticking that first caught her attention. It had a rhythmic, almost hypnotic effect, but tonight, it felt different. She glanced up, noticing that the ticking seemed slower, like each second stretched too long, making time itself feel heavy. Shaking off the unease, she returned to her book.

Then, she felt it—a faint, cold breeze brushing the back of her neck. But the windows were closed, and the air in the room was still.

She told herself it was just a draft, an old building’s quirk, and she returned to reading. But the feeling crept up again, a prickling sensation as if she was being watched. The hairs on her arms stood up, and she couldn't shake the feeling of something lurking just behind her.

Swallowing her nerves, she forced herself to turn around, glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see something there, waiting. But there was nothing—just her empty living room, shadows pooled in the corners where the lamplight didn’t quite reach.

Trying to laugh off her fear, Ellie whispered to herself, “It’s just your imagination,” and turned back to her book.

But then, a faint whisper broke the silence.

“Ellie…”

Her heart skipped a beat. She froze, every muscle tensed. The whisper was so soft, barely louder than a breath, yet unmistakable. She forced herself to look around the room again, eyes scanning every shadow.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice shaking.

The room remained silent.

The whisper didn’t come again, but something was different now, as if the shadows in the room had shifted, taking on a darker, denser quality. She could feel it, whatever it was, watching her with a quiet patience, waiting for her to let her guard down.

Deciding she’d had enough, Ellie grabbed her book and headed for her bedroom. But as she crossed the threshold, she noticed something that made her heart stop.

Her bedcovers had been turned down.

She hadn’t touched her bed since morning, yet the sheets were pulled back, as if someone—or something—was waiting for her to climb in.

The whisper returned, closer this time. “Come… lie down.”

Ellie backed away, her mind racing. She felt trapped, caught between the silent, cold room behind her and the ominous, open bed before her. Every instinct told her to run, but her legs felt rooted to the spot.

And then she saw it—a figure in the corner of her room, half-hidden in the shadows. Its form was barely visible, an outline that flickered in and out of the dark like a dying ember. It was tall, impossibly thin, with eyes that seemed to absorb the light around them, two empty voids watching her with an unsettling calm.

The whisper came again, and this time, it sounded like it was right by her ear. “Ellie… come closer…”

A chill ran down her spine as she took a step back, her eyes locked on the figure. It didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, just stood there, waiting.

With a surge of adrenaline, Ellie turned and bolted from her apartment, racing down the stairs without looking back. She spent the rest of the night in her car, parked under the streetlights, watching the windows of her apartment from afar.

The next morning, she returned, cautiously stepping into her home, hoping that whatever she’d seen was gone. But when she entered her bedroom, her blood ran cold.

There, on her bed, was a single word scratched into the headboard, faint but unmistakable:

“Welcome.”

Thank you for reading The Silent Visitor. If it gave you a shiver, don't forget to like and share—after all, some things are best shared in the dark. Just be sure you’re not alone…