Chapter 5 - The Whisper in the Walls
The transition to Sarah’s Victorian home in the countryside was supposed to be a sanctuary, but the old house carried its own heavy shadows. It was a sprawling, creaking structure surrounded by dense pine woods that whispered endlessly in the wind.
Three weeks after the arrests in the city, Sophie sat on the braided rug in her new bedroom, meticulously lining up her wooden blocks. The sun had dipped below the horizon, plunging the hallway outside into deep, inky darkness.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sophie froze. The sound wasn’t coming from the window or the floorboards. It was coming from inside the wall directly behind her bed.
She turned slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. Three rhythmic taps, followed by a faint, metallic scraping sound—like a key turning in a lock that hadn’t been opened in decades.
“Aunt Sarah?” Sophie called out, her voice barely a squeak.
May you like
No answer. Only the wind howling through the chimney.
As she stared at the floral wallpaper, a small section of the wood paneling near the baseboard suddenly shifted outward by a fraction of an inch, releasing a gust of freezing air that smelled sharply of damp earth and old iron.
