Whispers in the Walls

The small town of Ash Hollow had always been quiet, too quiet, and Ellie Taylor couldn’t help but feel that the darkness of the place crept deeper into her bones with every passing day. After a year of living there, she had grown accustomed to the overgrown streets, the eerie silence that hung heavy in the air, and the way the townsfolk would always smile too widely—too kindly—when they saw her. There was something unsettling about Ash Hollow, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. And then there was the house.

It had been years since anyone had lived there. The dilapidated mansion at the edge of town had stood abandoned, its windows dark and empty, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. No one in Ash Hollow ever spoke of the place, but Ellie had always been drawn to it. She would pass it on her walks, looking up at the towering, decaying structure, wondering what secrets it hid behind its rusted gates and moss-covered stone walls.

One cold autumn evening, as the sun sank behind the trees, Ellie found herself standing in front of the house. She had no real reason to be there; she had simply felt an inexplicable pull toward it, as if something inside were calling to her. The gate creaked as she pushed it open, the sound sending a chill down her spine. The house loomed in front of her, a dark silhouette against the dimming sky.

As Ellie approached the front door, she noticed the faintest trace of light flickering through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. It was a strange, unnatural glow, like firelight or candlelight, but there was no one to be seen. The door was ajar, just enough to let her slip inside.

She hesitated for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. But curiosity won out. She stepped inside.

The air was thick with dust, and the smell of old wood and mildew filled her nostrils. The once-grand foyer was now crumbling, with peeling wallpaper and broken chandeliers that hung crookedly from the ceiling. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of a door creaking somewhere upstairs. Ellie froze, listening. Was she alone? The house seemed to breathe with her, its old wooden bones creaking and groaning under the weight of the years.

A faint whisper echoed through the halls.

"Ellie..."

Her heart skipped a beat. She turned toward the sound, but there was no one in sight. She had heard it, though—clear as day. Her name. She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. It must have been the wind, or maybe the house itself, settling. But the longer she stood there, the more uneasy she became. The whispers grew louder, coming from somewhere deep within the house.

"Ellie... come closer..."

Her pulse quickened. She knew she should leave, but the pull was irresistible, drawing her deeper into the mansion. The whispers seemed to beckon her, guiding her footsteps. She ventured into the darkened hallway, her flashlight flickering as she walked. The walls seemed to close in around her, and with each step, the temperature dropped.

The door at the end of the hallway loomed ahead, slightly ajar, a cold breeze flowing through the crack. Ellie approached cautiously, her hand trembling as she reached for the doorknob. The moment she touched it, a loud bang echoed from within the room, followed by a low, guttural growl.

Ellie froze. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was madness. What was she doing here? She pulled her hand back, but the door creaked open on its own, revealing a room bathed in eerie, flickering light.

And then she saw it.

In the center of the room, an old rocking chair moved back and forth, as if being rocked by an invisible hand. The light was coming from a single, unearthly candle burning on a small table beside it, casting long, distorted shadows against the walls. The whispers were louder now, urgent.

"Come closer... Ellie... we’ve been waiting for you..."

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. There, in the corner of the room, a figure stood. It was draped in tattered clothing, its face hidden in shadow. A low, raspy voice emanated from the figure.

"You shouldn’t have come... but now that you’re here... you will never leave."

Suddenly, the room seemed to shift. The walls began to close in, and the air grew suffocatingly thick. Ellie’s vision blurred, her body trembling in terror. The whispers were all around her now, swirling like a storm, screaming her name.

Her heart pounded as she stumbled backward, but the door slammed shut behind her, trapping her in the room. She turned in desperation, only to find the figure was no longer in the corner. It was right behind her.

She spun around, but it was too late. Cold, skeletal hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her toward the center of the room.

"Ellie... you’re ours now..."

The last thing Ellie heard was the soft, creaking sound of the rocking chair moving back and forth, and the echo of her own name whispering through the walls.

The next morning, the town of Ash Hollow was quiet, as always. The mansion at the edge of town stood tall, its windows dark and empty once again. No one spoke of Ellie Taylor or where she had gone. But if you listened closely, you might hear a faint whisper on the wind—her name carried in the rustling leaves.

"Ellie..."

And the house would wait for the next soul to wander too close