Title:Buried Whispers
By: Obsidian Pen
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Part 1: The House No One Wanted
The house at 47 Hollow Pine Street had been empty for over thirty years.
No one ever stayed more than a week. Some claimed the walls whispered at night. Others said the air smelled like old rot and wet earth. But most... just left without saying a word.
When David Hunter bought it, he thought he was getting a deal too good to be true. A massive Victorian house for the price of a car? He signed the papers the same day.
He moved in on a foggy Tuesday. The floor creaked under his feet like it hadn't been stepped on in years. Dust covered everything, yet there were no cobwebs. As if the house had been abandoned… but watched.
That night, around 3:17 a.m., David heard it.
tap… tap… tap…
From beneath the wooden floorboards under his bed.
He stood still, holding his breath. His apartment in the city never made sounds like this. He leaned closer.
tap… scratch… drag…
Something was moving.
Not mice. Not pipes. Something… bigger.
He grabbed a flashlight, aimed it at the floor, and noticed a narrow gap in the wood. Barely wide enough for a finger. But from that gap, a faint whisper crawled out:
"Let me out."
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Part 2: Something Beneath
The next morning, David searched the entire lower level. No trapdoor. No basement access. Just the creaky floor and silence.
But that night, the tapping returned. And this time, something new followed it — laughter. Childlike, broken, and echoing through the halls.
He decided to pry the floor open. When he pulled away the first wooden plank, a sudden rush of freezing air hit his face. Beneath the floorboards, there was no crawlspace. No pipes.
Just darkness… and two handprints pressed against the dirt. Small. Pale. Fresh.
Then, a voice:
"Why did you leave me here?"
He fell back, heart racing. The floor slammed shut by itself.
David didn't sleep that night. He sat in the corner with a kitchen knife, eyes wide, lights on.
Something was inside the house — and it knew his name.
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Part 3: The Forgotten Room
The next day, David received a letter with no return address. Inside was a photograph: the house, from decades ago, with a family of four standing in front of it. A man, a woman, a boy… and a little girl. The girl's face was scratched out violently.
Written on the back in faded ink:
"Don't trust her."
That night, David found a door he'd never seen before — behind a bookshelf that slid open when he leaned on it by mistake.
It led to a narrow staircase spiraling down into darkness.
He lit a candle.
At the bottom was a small, windowless room. In the center was a child's wooden chair… with restraints on the arms and legs.
On the wall, carved in hundreds of overlapping lines:
"She lies. She lies. She lies."
Behind him, a voice whispered in his ear.
"No… I never lied."
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Part 4: Buried Names
David started digging. He didn't know why. Maybe to find answers. Maybe to bury the fear.
In the backyard, beneath the willow tree, he found it: a coffin no larger than a suitcase. Inside, a porcelain doll… with human hair.
And inside its chest, sewn shut with thick black thread — a note.
"I begged them. I screamed. They never listened. Now they all sleep beneath the floor."
That night, David heard footsteps above his room — even though he was on the top floor.
When he looked out the window, the reflection showed someone standing behind him.
But when he turned… nothing.
The doll was gone.
And the voice returned. Closer now. Stronger.
"You brought me back."
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Part 5: Let Me Out
The house wouldn't let him leave.
Every door led back inside. Every window showed the same hallway. Time bent around him like a trap.
He screamed. Punched walls. Tore at the floor. But the whispers only grew louder.
"Let me out."
"Let me out."
"Let me OUT."
David finally returned to the secret room. The candle flickered as he stepped in.
There, in the chair, sat the girl — pale, eyes empty, smile wide.
"You're not the first," she said.
"But you'll be the last."
She stood, and the room went cold. The walls began to bleed words — scratched in every language, all saying the same thing:
"Let me out."
The lights died.
The house groaned.
And Hollow Pine Street had one more reason to stay abandoned.
Forever.