Chapter 1: The Voice That Woke Me
The first scream didn’t come from outside — it came from inside my dream.
I jolted awake, drenched in sweat. The room was dark, the air too heavy, too still. Then I heard it — a whisper slicing through the silence.
“Please… don’t forget me.”
My eyes shot toward the doorway. A figure stood there — a woman, soaked to the bone, her hair clinging to her pale face. The shadows wrapped around her like fog.
When I blinked, she was gone.
The only thing left behind… was the sound of water dripping on the floor.
Cliffhanger: When I turned on the light, a wet footprint trailed from the doorway straight to my bed.
Chapter 2: The Footprints in the Dark
The footprints were small. Bare. Human.
I followed them down the hallway until they stopped — right at the old attic door.
I stood there listening. Nothing. Just the wind.
Anna called from the bedroom, sleepy and annoyed. “Another nightmare?”
I lied. “Yeah… that’s all.”
But it wasn’t.
The next night, the whisper returned — closer, sharper.
“Why did you leave me?”
I turned to the mirror — and froze. Behind my reflection stood the same woman. This time I could see her eyes — lifeless, yet burning with accusation.
Cliffhanger: A child’s laugh echoed faintly behind her — high, brittle, and wrong. We didn’t have children.
Chapter 3: The Photograph
In the attic, behind a wall of dust and forgotten boxes, I found it — a photograph.
A little boy stood beside a woman in white. Her smile looked forced, her hand clutching his shoulder too tightly.
Anna came in as I turned the picture over.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“No idea,” I lied, though my heart knew better.
That night, I dreamed of rushing water — a river swallowing the boy whole while the woman screamed his name.
When I woke, the window was open, curtains soaked with rain.
Cliffhanger: In the garden below, something small and pale glimmered beneath the soil — a child’s shoe.
Chapter 4: The House That Remembers
The police dismissed the shoe as “probably from a stray kid.” But Mrs. Loraine, the old neighbor, didn’t.
“You’re in the Rivers’ house, aren’t you?” she said, voice trembling. “They lost their son. Drowned in the river behind your property. She never left after that. Not really.”
That night, thunder shook the walls. I woke to the sound of running water — steady, rhythmic — but every tap was dry.
Anna murmured beside me, “It’s just the storm.”
But I knew storms didn’t whisper my name.
Cliffhanger: The next morning, muddy water pooled beneath the bed — and floating in it was the same photograph… now torn clean down the middle.
Chapter 5: The House Turns Against Us
Anna said I was losing my mind. I said the house was alive.
Neither of us was wrong.
The kitchen faucet gurgled and spat black water, thick as oil. A single strand of long, dark hair floated to the surface.
Anna screamed.
We unplugged every drain, but the knocking continued — a hollow thud from inside the pipes, in perfect rhythm with my heartbeat.
I turned the main valve off. The knocking stopped.
Then, from the drain, a voice whispered, “Let me out.”
Cliffhanger: When I looked down the sink, an eye stared back.
Chapter 6: The Woman in White
We should have left.
But I couldn’t — not yet.
That night, the woman appeared again — standing at the end of the hall. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. Just watched.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
She tilted her head, her lips trembling. “Find him.”
A chill slid down my spine.
Anna came out of the room behind me. The woman vanished, leaving behind only wet footprints… leading into the living room.
Under the floorboards, something hummed.
Cliffhanger: We pressed our ears to the floor — and heard a lullaby coming from beneath the house.
Chapter 7: Beneath the Floor
I tore the boards up with my bare hands. The smell hit first — damp earth and something older, like rot trapped for decades.
A narrow crawlspace. Just big enough for a child.
Anna begged me to stop, but I couldn’t. I crawled through, my flashlight flickering.
At the end, I found a small tin box. Inside: a bracelet, a lock of hair, and a note smudged with water.
He didn’t make it. Forgive me.
Then — cold breath brushed my ear.
“Now you know.”
Cliffhanger: I turned and saw her face in full for the first time. It was Anna’s.
Chapter 8: The Memory That Wasn’t Mine
Anna was sobbing, shaking her head. “That’s not me! You have to believe me!”
But the woman in white — her double — looked at me with hollow sorrow.
Then it hit me: a flash of memories not my own. A storm. The river. A boy’s hand slipping beneath the current. The mother’s scream tearing through the night.
It wasn’t Anna’s guilt — it was the ghost’s.
Her grief had fused with the house itself.
And she wasn’t done yet.
Cliffhanger: That night, I dreamed I was standing in the river… and something beneath the water was holding my ankle tight.
Chapter 9: The River’s Secret
Before sunrise, I followed the whisper — faint, melodic — to the willow tree by the riverbank.
The mist clung low, the air thick with dread.
I started to dig.
Hours passed before the shovel struck wood. A small wooden cross. Beneath it, a toy boat, initials T.M. carved on its side.
Then, the air changed.
The river stilled. The whisper softened.
When I turned, the woman was there — luminous, calm.
She smiled for the first time. And as the morning light broke through the fog, she faded — piece by piece — until all that was left was the sound of the wind.
Anna came running, tears streaking her face.
“Is it over?” she asked.
I looked down at the toy boat and nodded.
“Yes. She just wanted him home.”
The house has been quiet ever since.
No whispers. No water. No ghosts.
But sometimes, when the wind blows from the river, I swear I can still hear the lullaby… soft, distant, and endless.
Final line:
Some grief refuses to die — it only waits for someone brave enough to uncover it.
