Whispers in the Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
In a new house that Edmund, an elderly man, has recently moved into, he wakes in the night to the sound, to the whispers. But as Edmund soon finds out that in the night there are things worse than the dark.

Submitted: October 28, 2013

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Submitted: October 28, 2013

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Whispers in the Night

He could swear they we coming from the room again. Every night since Edmund had moved to the dreary house he had heard them. The old man grabbed the candle from the night stand letting its faint glow guide him in the erie darkness of the bedroom. He could hear the whispers from the room growing louder, able making out the voices. Edmund moved to this new house but a week ago and every night has heard this strange phenomenon since, but has never understood the cause of the whispers. Edmund followed the bobbing light of the candle down the hallway, treading lightly as the floor began to creak and groan beneath his feet. He grasped the handle of the door, hearing the whispers so strongly yet never able to decipher the words. He lifts the latch as the door begins to creak open and the whispers at their loudest, stop suddenly, as he peers into the room.

Silence.

Nothing but the boxes of storage he had yet to unpack, the last he had of his wife. Martha had passed away only weeks before, he had known her since childhood. Edmund missed her dearly, but knew if he stayed in their home he too would die, die of heart break.

Edmund walked over to the undisturbed boxes, opening one to lift out a photo of them, of himself and Martha. Frightened as he was, her picture always warmed him.

The door slammed shut.

Edmund turned in fear almost dropping the candle at the sound of the door. The whispers began again. Faintly he heard them but this time they weren't down the hall, they were all around him. The voices were inaudible to him as he ran for the door, the floor crying under his plight, grabbing for the latch as suddenly among the whispers he understood a word.

"Edmund" they whispered

The old man was truly frightened now, fighting with the latch to free the door, before his effort was in vain. But the whispers grew louder, calling to him.

"stay with us Edmund, we want you to stay" the voices whispered

Edmunds eye's widened in fright as the very shadows from the moonlit room began to swirl, they began to move. He stared as inky black faces and teeth began to bare down on him and fill hi with terror. He barely noticed the shadows lashing out at him as he managed to unlatch the door and run down the hallway as fast as his frail legs could carry him.

As he reached his bedroom door he turned his head to see to see the inky hands and faces of wretched bodies, mangled and twisted walk down the hallway in such a sickening fashion in made his stomach turn.

He rushed into the room and latched the bolted door and leaped to his night stand drawer as he pulled in the golden cross necklace Martha had always worn.

"Please dear lord" he said in a whimper, "don’t let the evil take me, I only have-"

He sat in horror as his tears flushed down his face as he realized, he forgot about Sara.

"Lord forgive me" he cried as the door erupted and the darkness devoured.

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

"Grandpa?" Sara cried as she sat up in her bed.

She knew it was no nightmare, something had crashed and she heard a blood curdling cry that could only have been her Grandfather.

She pulled the covers from her bed and let her bare feet reach the floor as she grabbed for the candle tray from her dresser. She grabbed the handle and reached the door to listen.

Silence.

Sara thought in concerning there was nothing after such sounds that woke her, maybe she was dreaming after all?

But then she heard it, low feint voices, she could make them out but she heard them. They we coming from downstairs, but why would grandpa be downstairs? she thought.

She looked to her right, down the hallway, towards the corner her grandfathers room is around, but the voices were from downstairs. Then a thought sprang to mind they greatly worried her, He might have fallen down the stairs!

"Granpda!" she yelled fearing the worse as she ran down the stairs in a panic.

When she reached the bottom she looked out to the rest of the house to realize, there was no sign of her grandfather, or anything that could have made the noises she heard.

But she heard it again, the feint voices, almost a whispering. But they seemed to be coming from the cellar. She eyed the rest of the room with the little light that eminated from the candle and slowly walked toward the door.

She jumped as she thought she saw movement in the living room, she quickly raised her candle but realized it was the curtain, she shook her head for being so jumpy when she knew there was a draft in the house, especially at night.

So with reluctance she reached toward the cellar door, as her hand gripped the latch,with shocking clarity the whispers came.

"SARA!"


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