Ethan Parker had always loved the charm of old houses, but something about the one he had just purchased made his skin crawl. The Victorian home stood alone at the end of Holloway Lane, abandoned for years. The moment he stepped inside, a cold draft wrapped around him like unseen fingers. The real estate agent had been eager to sell it, offering it at a price too good to refuse. “Just a bit of history,” she had said with a nervous laugh when he asked about the rumors. Ethan brushed them off as ghost stories meant to scare away potential buyers.
The first few nights were uneventful, but then he heard them. At first, they were faint—a whispering sound that seemed to seep through the floorboards of his bedroom. He convinced himself it was just the house settling. But as the nights passed, the whispers grew louder, more distinct.
"Help us."
The voice was fragile, desperate.
Ethan’s blood turned to ice. He knelt, pressing his ear against the wooden planks. A chilling draft slipped through the cracks. He hesitated before prying up one of the loose boards. Beneath, there was darkness. A small, hidden space stretched under the floor, and something inside shifted. Ethan shined his flashlight into the void and gasped. Small bones—human bones—were scattered across the dirt. His breath hitched when he saw them: two hollow eye sockets staring back at him from a partially buried skull.
Then, a hand shot out.
Ethan recoiled, but it wasn’t a physical hand—it was shadowy, shifting, its fingers curling around his wrist with an impossible coldness. A whisper, this time directly in his ear, rattled through his skull.
"You must finish it."
Terror flooded his veins. He staggered backward, his mind spinning. The walls of the room began to tremble as the whispers turned into wails. He grabbed his phone to call for help, but the battery was dead. The lights flickered and died.
And then, silence.
The next morning, Ethan’s house stood eerily quiet. The police arrived after a concerned neighbor reported screams in the night. They found the bedroom untouched—except for the floorboards.
Every single one had been ripped up.
Ethan was gone.
But the whispers remained.
