Emma’s heart pounded in her chest as darkness swallowed her. Her only source of light was gone, and the cold, clammy air pressed against her skin. She fumbled in her pocket—her phone’s flashlight was dead, useless now. Fear rooted her to the spot, but curiosity urged her to move forward.
From the corner where she saw the shadow, a faint movement appeared—like a flickering shimmer of fabric. Emma’s breath hitched. The whispers returned, softer this time, echoing all around her.
"Help… me…" a voice rasped, sending icy chills down her spine.
Emma strained her eyes, trying to see through the darkness. Shadows lengthened and danced on the walls, forming twisted, almost human shapes. She felt the cold stare of unseen eyes watching her, shaping her own terror.
Suddenly, a weak glow appeared beside her. Emma gasped as she saw a small, flickering candle resting on an old wooden crate. Hesitantly, she reached out and lit it with trembling fingers. The tiny flame cast a warm, trembling light, revealing more details of the basement: broken furniture, rusty tools, and a tattered cloth that looked like it was once part of a dress.
Then she saw it—an old, dusty mirror leaning against the wall. As she approached, her reflection wavered, like a ripple on a dark pond. In the mirror’s glass, she saw something else: a figure standing behind her.
Emma spun around, eyes wide with horror. No one was there. Only shadows and the silent house. The whispering grew louder, almost a chorus now, filling her mind with dread.
A sudden cold breeze swept through the basement, and the flame of her candle flickered wildly. Emma’s eyes darted around, trying to find the source of the cold. She saw the faint silhouette of a girl — a young girl, with long hair and a vacant expression, staring directly at her.
Emma staggered back, her voice shaking. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The girl’s voice echoed softly inside Emma’s mind: "Help me… don’t let them take me."
Before Emma could react, the shadows thickened and swirled around her, obscuring the room in darkness. The candle’s flame sputtered and died, plunging her into complete blackness once more.
When Emma’s vision cleared, she was alone. But outside, through the tiny cracks in the basement walls, she saw faint, flickering lights—like lanterns—moving in the distance.
And in her pocket, she felt a cold, tiny hand clutching hers.