Voices in the Walls

The old house stood on a lonely hill, its windows dark like eyes watching over the town below. The Wilson family had just moved in, excited to start a new life away from the noise of the city. The house was big, with enough rooms for each of the kids to have their own space. Mr. Wilson had gotten a good deal on it, and even though it looked a little worn from the outside, it felt like a fresh start for the whole family.

“Look at all this room!” said Mrs. Wilson as she unpacked boxes in the kitchen. “We’ll have more than enough space for everything.”

Their two children, Ethan and Lily, ran around exploring the house, laughing and shouting. It was an adventure for them—a big house with hidden corners and strange, creaky floors.

Ethan, the older brother, found the attic and claimed it as his own little hideaway. Lily, younger and full of curiosity, was drawn to a small room at the end of the hall upstairs. It was a cozy little space, but the moment she stepped in, she hesitated. There was something odd about it. It wasn’t just the faded wallpaper or the cracked window—it was the strange feeling in the air. It felt cold, even though it was summer.

That night, after a long day of unpacking, everyone settled into their rooms. The house was quiet—too quiet. In the middle of the night, Mrs. Wilson woke up to a faint noise. She strained her ears. It sounded like whispering, but it was so soft she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it. She nudged Mr. Wilson.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

“Hear what?” Mr. Wilson mumbled, half asleep.

“The whispers.”

He paused, listening, but the sound had faded. “It’s just an old house. Probably the wind or pipes. Go back to sleep,” he said, rolling over.

Mrs. Wilson tried to push the strange feeling away and went back to bed.

The next morning, the house seemed normal again. But over the next few days, the whispers returned—soft, barely noticeable, but they were there. Sometimes they sounded like words, other times just like the rustling of voices too far away to understand.

It wasn’t long before the children started noticing them too.

“Mom, do you hear people talking at night?” Ethan asked one morning over breakfast.

Mrs. Wilson hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“In my room, I keep hearing these weird voices. Like... talking, but it’s not really clear.”

Lily, who had been quietly eating her cereal, chimed in. “I hear them too. They say things to me.”

Her parents exchanged a look. “What do you mean, Lily?” Mr. Wilson asked.

Lily shrugged. “They whisper secrets. I can’t always hear them, but I know they’re talking to me. They say they want to be my friends.”

Mrs. Wilson’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s probably just the wind or the house settling,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Old houses make strange noises sometimes.”

Lily seemed satisfied with the answer, but Ethan wasn’t convinced. He was thirteen and didn’t believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but something about the house was giving him the creeps.

As the days passed, the whispers grew louder. They weren’t just at night anymore. Sometimes they would come in the middle of the day, in the quiet moments when everyone was doing their own thing. It was always the same—soft voices, like someone talking from inside the walls.

Ethan started avoiding his room. He didn’t like being up in the attic alone, especially at night. The whispers seemed to surround him there, as if the walls themselves were speaking.

But it was Lily who seemed the most affected. She started spending more and more time in the little room at the end of the hall, talking quietly to herself. Her parents thought it was just her imagination, but Ethan knew something was wrong.

One evening, Ethan heard her whispering to the walls again. He crept up the stairs and stood outside her door, listening.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked, stepping inside.

“My friends,” Lily said, not even looking at him.

“There’s no one here, Lily. It’s just us.”

Lily turned to him, her eyes wide and serious. “They’re in the walls. They talk to me all the time. They want to come out.”

A chill ran down Ethan’s spine. “What do you mean, come out?”

“They say they’re trapped. They say if I let them out, they’ll be my friends forever.”

“Lily, you have to stop. There’s no one in the walls. You’re scaring me.”

But Lily just smiled. “You’ll see. They’re nice. They just want to play.”

Ethan ran downstairs and told his parents what Lily had said. Worried, they decided to have a talk with her.

“Lily, we know you’ve been hearing strange things, but there’s nothing in the walls,” Mrs. Wilson said gently. “It’s just your imagination.”

Lily frowned. “You don’t believe me. But I can prove it. They said they’re going to show me.”

That night, the house felt different—heavier, like something was pressing down on them. The whispers were louder than ever. Ethan could barely sleep, every creak and groan of the house making him jump.

Around midnight, he heard Lily’s door creak open. He jumped out of bed and followed her, finding her standing in the hallway, staring at the wall.

“They’re coming,” she whispered.

“Lily, stop!” Ethan grabbed her arm, but she just smiled at him, her eyes distant.

Suddenly, the whispering grew louder. It wasn’t just faint voices anymore—it was a chorus, clear and sharp.

Let us out.

The words seemed to come from everywhere, echoing off the walls. Ethan backed away, pulling Lily with him, but she wouldn’t move.

The walls started to shift, as if something was pushing against them from the inside. Cracks appeared, spreading like spiderwebs across the plaster.

“Mom! Dad!” Ethan screamed.

His parents rushed out of their room, their faces pale with fear. The walls groaned, the cracks deepening. The whispering grew into a roar, filling the house with a terrible, angry sound.

“Get away from the walls!” Mr. Wilson shouted, pulling Lily back.

Suddenly, with a loud crack, a piece of the wall burst open, sending dust and debris flying. For a moment, the whispering stopped, and there was only silence. But then, from the hole in the wall, something dark and shadowy began to crawl out.

Mrs. Wilson screamed, grabbing both children and pulling them away.

“We need to get out of here!” Mr. Wilson shouted.

They ran, stumbling down the stairs and out the front door, leaving the house behind them. The whispering followed them all the way outside, growing fainter as they ran further from the house.

They didn’t stop until they were in the car, speeding down the road.

The house stood alone on the hill, silent once again. But if you listened closely, you could still hear the whispers, waiting for someone to come back and let them out.

The Wilson family never returned to the house. They moved far away, and no one ever spoke of the whispers again. But sometimes, when the night was quiet, Ethan could still hear them, faint and far away, calling to him from the walls.

Disclaimer: This story has been generated by an AI. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. The content is for entertainment purposes only and does not reflect any real-world situations or entities.