Would you dare step inside a house where the walls whisper your name?
At the edge of a dying village, where the fog clung to the ground like grasping fingers, there stood a house that no one entered. It loomed at the end of a winding road, its windows hollow and black, as if the house itself was watching.
No birds sang near it. No leaves rustled in the wind. Only silence… and the distant echo of a girl’s voice calling from the dark.
“Lily… help me…”
Eliza.
They spoke of her in hushed voices, the girl who wandered too far into the woods and never returned. Some claimed she had been taken—by something that did not belong in this world. Others believed she still walked the halls of the old house, searching… waiting.
But what was she waiting for?
Lily, too stubborn to believe in village superstitions, had to know.
"Curiosity kills more than just cats."
Armed only with a flickering flashlight, Lily pushed open the rotting door. It groaned like a wounded beast, the sound swallowed by the void inside. Dust swirled in the air. The scent of decay clung to the walls. The floorboards creaked beneath her hesitant steps.
Then—whispers.
Soft. Lingering. Calling her name.
She swallowed hard. It’s just the wind… isn’t it?
But then she saw them—shadows moving where there should be none.
A Face in the Dark
The attic.
The air was thick here, pressing against her like unseen hands. And in the dim glow of her flashlight, something shifted.
A figure.
Eliza.
Her skin was pale as the fog outside, her eyes hollow and pleading. A tattered white gown clung to her thin frame. She did not walk—she hovered, her feet never touching the ground.
"Help me."
The room turned colder.
Lily’s breath hitched. “H-how?”
Eliza’s eyes darkened. "Find the locket. Before they do."
Some things are lost for a reason.
The forest was different at night. The trees leaned too close, their branches tangled like grasping arms. The wind whispered secrets only the dead could understand.
Somewhere in the distance, something cracked. A branch… or a bone?
Lily’s fingers dug into the damp earth. And then—her hands found it.
Cold. Metal. A locket, rusted with age.
And suddenly, the woods fell silent.
Too silent.
As if something had been watching.
Waiting.
"They never wanted her to leave."
Lily sprinted back to the house, heart hammering against her ribs.
Inside, the shadows thickened. The walls shuddered. The house did not want to let her go.
She held the locket out to Eliza’s trembling hands. The moment they touched—
A scream. A blinding light.
Then—nothing.
The silence was different now. The air was lighter. The shadows had melted away.
Eliza was gone.
A house remembers. A house never forgets.
By morning, the village no longer spoke of the haunted house.
But as Lily walked past it one last time, she felt it.
The house was watching.
Waiting.
For the next name it would whisper in the dark.
"Not all ghosts want to leave."
Actionable Step:
Next time you hear a whisper in the dark, don’t turn around. Some voices should remain unanswered.
Conclusion:
The past does not always rest. Some stories never truly end. And some houses… never stay empty.
