THE DEATH WHISPER

Ethan never believed in ghosts. He believed in views. When he heard about the abandoned Blackwood House, he grabbed his camera and went live.

“Tonight,” he smiled, “I’m proving the Death Whisper is just another legend.”

The house stood silent beneath the full moon. Broken windows stared like empty eyes. The front door creaked open by itself.

He laughed. “Nice timing.”

As soon as he stepped inside—

BANG!

The door slammed shut behind him.

His smile disappeared. The air suddenly felt freezing cold. His flashlight flickered as it revealed dusty furniture, shattered picture frames, and dark stains across the wooden floor.

Then...

Scratch...

Ethan froze.

The sound came from upstairs.

Slow.

Long.

Like sharp fingernails scraping across old wood.

“It’s probably a rat,” he whispered, trying to convince himself.

The scratching stopped.

Silence.

A silence so deep he could hear his own heartbeat.

Then—

Scratch... Scratch... Scratch...

Much louder.

Much closer.

His flashlight blinked again as he slowly pointed it toward the staircase.

Nothing.

Only darkness.

Suddenly, his camera beeped.

The recording began playing by itself.

The screen showed Ethan standing exactly where he was.

But behind him stood a tall woman with long black hair covering her face.

He spun around instantly.

No one.

When he looked back at the screen...

She was gone.

Before he could breathe, three deep claw marks slowly carved themselves into the wallpaper.

No hand.

No shadow.

Just invisible nails.

Dark letters appeared beneath them.

DON’T LISTEN.

A second message slowly formed.

IT KNOWS YOUR NAME.

His phone rang.

Unknown Number.

With trembling hands, he answered.

Only silence.

Then...

A whisper.

“Ethan...”

It was his mother’s voice.

She had died five years ago.

The call ended.

At that exact moment...

The scratching started again.

Only now...

It wasn’t upstairs.

It was coming from inside the wall beside him.

And with every scratch...

It was getting closer.

To be continued...