The Whispering Shadows
Late one night, Zara was grading papers in the dimly lit study of her new house. The room smelled of old wood and faint mildew, and the shadows cast by the flickering candle seemed to dance on their own.
She had moved here a week ago, trying to escape the noise of the city, but tonight, it felt eerily quiet. A scratching sound came from behind her. Startled, she turned, but there was nothing there. Assuming it was a mouse, she went back to her work.
The scratching grew louder, now accompanied by faint whispers. Words she couldn’t understand floated through the room. Her pulse quickened as she stood up, clutching the candle. She moved toward the noise, which seemed to come from the old wooden wardrobe in the corner.
With trembling hands, she opened the door. Inside, there were only a few of her jackets, but something was wrong. They were swaying slightly, as if caught in a breeze—but the room was sealed.
A cold breath grazed her neck, and a voice whispered, "Why did you come here?"
She froze, the candle trembling in her hand. Slowly, she turned her head and caught a glimpse of a pale, distorted face in the mirror behind her. Its sunken eyes stared into hers, and its mouth twisted into an unnatural grin.
Zara screamed and bolted out of the room, but as she reached the hallway, the doors slammed shut, one by one. The whispers followed her, now louder, chanting, "You shouldn’t have come..."
The next morning, the villagers found the house abandoned. Zara was never seen again, but late at night, some say they can hear her screams echoing through the valley.