Whispers from the Wall

It all started when Sana’s family moved into the old house at the end of Pinewood Lane. The rent was strangely cheap, and although the house looked worn out and quiet, her parents thought it was a good opportunity. “Maybe because it’s far from the city,” her father said with a shrug.

Sana was happy. She finally had her own room with a big window and enough space for her paintings. Everything seemed perfect—until the first night. That’s when she heard it. A soft whisper. Not like the wind or trees. It was a voice. A quiet, broken voice, coming from the wall next to her bed.

She sat up and listened. "Hello?" she said, her voice trembling. There was silence. Then a soft sigh. She pulled the blanket over her head, trying to sleep, but the sound stayed in her mind.

The next night, the same whisper returned. This time, she pressed her ear to the wall. The voice was clearer, but she couldn’t understand the words. It was cold and sad. She ran to her parents and told them everything. They only laughed. “It’s an old house, Sana,” her mother said. “Pipes make sounds. That’s all.”

But she knew it wasn’t the pipes. It was a voice. A girl’s voice.

Over the next few days, Sana noticed more strange things. Her mirror—an old one left behind in the house—would fog up even when it wasn’t cold. One morning, she saw small fingerprints on it. And once, she saw a reflection that wasn’t her own. A girl, with pale skin and long black hair, stood behind her. But when Sana turned around, no one was there.

That night, the whisper in the wall returned. But this time, it said something clear. “Help me.” Sana froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move.

The next morning, she decided to look closer. She tapped on the wall near her bed. One part sounded hollow. Curious, she scratched the wallpaper and found a wooden panel. Carefully, she pulled it open. Behind it was a small crawl space. It was dark and dusty, just big enough for a child to hide in.

Inside, she found a broken doll, a pink ribbon, and a small diary. She sat on her bed and opened the diary. It was old and smelled of mold, but she could read the name: “Lina.”

Sana flipped through the pages. Lina wrote about living in the house, playing with dolls, and then… things changed. The last page made her skin crawl:

“He said if I tell anyone, he’ll lock me in the wall forever. I’m scared. Please… someone… help me.”

Sana ran to her mother and showed her the diary. Her mother looked shocked. “When I was a girl, a child named Lina disappeared from this neighborhood. No one ever found her.”

Sana nodded. “She’s still here, Mom. I heard her. I saw her.”

Her father, still not convinced, told her to stop imagining things. “It’s just an old diary. Stop scaring yourself.”

That night, everything got worse. The whisper turned into crying. “He’s here… he’s coming…” the voice said.

The room turned cold. Her mirror cracked. The lights flickered. Then, on the wall, red letters appeared: “He never left.”

The door slammed shut. The window shattered. Sana screamed as the crawl space creaked open by itself. From within, a deep growl echoed—not a little girl’s voice—but something darker. Something angry.

Her parents rushed in, finally believing her. The next morning, her father began searching the house. In the basement, they found a wall with wooden boards nailed across it. When they pulled the boards off, they found what they feared most: small bones wrapped in an old child’s blanket.

The police came. An investigation began. It was confirmed that the bones belonged to a young girl—Lina. Her case, forgotten for years, was reopened.

Sana’s family moved out within a week. The memories, the fear, and the sadness were too much to bear.

A month later, a new family moved into the house. Their daughter, Amina, was excited to have her own room.

On her first night, she sat on the bed, smiled at the mirror, and whispered to herself, “I hope I make new friends here.”

And from deep inside the wall… a soft voice replied:

“Me too.”

The End.