Whispers in the Walls

John stared at the ceiling, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. The old house creaked and groaned, as if it were alive, breathing alongside him. He turned to look at the clock: 3:47 AM. Another sleepless night.

As he lay there, a faint whisper caught his attention. At first, he dismissed it as the wind, but then he heard it again, clearer this time. It seemed to be coming from the walls.

“…the truth…”

John sat up, his heart racing. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Silence. He shook his head, convinced it was just his exhausted mind playing tricks on him.

Days turned into weeks, and the whispers grew louder and more frequent. John found himself pressing his ear against the walls, trying to make sense of the fragments.

“…buried…in the cellar…”

One evening, as John was preparing dinner, the voices became overwhelming.

“…she didn’t deserve to die…he killed her…”

John dropped the plate, shattering it on the floor. “Who are you? What do you want from me?” he shouted.

The whispers ceased abruptly. John slumped against the wall, his mind reeling. He knew he had to investigate, to uncover the truth behind the voices.

In the dusty attic, John discovered an old newspaper article about a young woman named Evelyn, who had gone missing in the 1960s. She was last seen at this very house, which belonged to his grandfather at the time.