The Voice Beneath the Floor

Ethan wanted silence. After the chaos of city life and a broken engagement, he rented a remote wooden cabin deep in the Vermont woods. No cell service, no neighbors. Just him, his books, and the cold November wind.

The first two nights passed peacefully. Fire crackling in the hearth, stars outside, and nothing but the sound of trees swaying. But on the third night, while trying to fall asleep, Ethan heard it.

A whisper.

Faint, slow, and coming from beneath the floorboards.

He sat up in bed. The cabin was still. Maybe it was just wind or the old structure settling. He lay back down.

The whisper came again. Clearer this time.

Don’t... go...

He jumped out of bed. The sound had come from below him. He grabbed a flashlight and stepped cautiously across the creaking floorboards, crouching down. The boards looked solid. There was no basement listed in the cabin description. Just a crawlspace. But when he pressed his ear to the floor, there it was again.

Closer now. "Heeeelp.."

The next day, Ethan searched the entire cabin. He found a loose board under the rug in the corner of the main room. Underneath was a crawlspace, deep and dark. Dust floated in the shaft of light shining through. A smell of mold and old wood rose up.

He considered calling someone. But curiosity won.

He returned that night with gloves, a rope, and a stronger flashlight. Lowering himself into the crawlspace, he found dirt, old nails, broken bottles, and a wooden hatch buried under leaves and dust. A metal ring was attached.

He hesitated.

Then he opened it.

What lay beneath was not a basement. It was a tunnel.

Narrow. Lined with damp wood beams. It stretched into pitch darkness.

As Ethan crouched, he heard the voice again, much louder.

"FINALLY."

He spun around. Nothing. The voice had come from the tunnel.

His hands shook, but he stepped inside. The walls were wet. The air was colder than outside.

Then, he saw them.

Scratch marks. On the wood. Deep ones. Like fingernails had clawed for escape.

He turned to go back, but the tunnel behind him had closed.

The wood had shifted.

Now it was a wall.

Ethan screamed. No one answered. The voice returned right next to his ear.

"You heard me. That’s enough."

Suddenly, he was pulled forward by something unseen. He hit the floor hard, knocking out his flashlight.

In pitch blackness, he crawled forward, heart racing, trying to breathe.

And then

He saw another figure ahead of him. A boy.

Pale, eyes wide with terror, mouthing something Ethan couldn’t hear.

The boy pointed to Ethan’s chest.

Ethan looked down.

The same claw marks were now scratched across his own skin.

He fainted.

When he awoke, he was back in the cabin.

Morning light through the windows. Birds chirping.

Had it been a dream?

Until he saw the blood on his shirt.

And the deep marks on the floor where he’d opened the hatch were now sealed shut.

Ethan left the cabin the same day. But the whispers haven’t stopped. Wherever he goes, late at night, from beneath his feet..

He hears them.

And they’re getting louder.

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Submitted By : Shinwari khan

Email Address: [email protected]

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