Chapter 1
The Whispering Door
Lena could never have guessed that her new apartment would be anything but ordinary. She had spent weeks searching for something affordable, and when she found a place in the old building on Sixth Avenue, she was ecstatic. It was small but charming, tucked away from the hustle of the city. The price was more than reasonable. Maybe too reasonable.
Her landlord, an elderly man named Mr. Collins, had a strange air about him. Thin, with wiry hair that never seemed to stay in place, his eyes were wide and haunted. He gave her a brief tour, his voice low and rasping, but Lena had barely listened. She was too eager to move in.
The first night was peaceful enough, but something lingered in the back of her mind—like a feeling she had forgotten to check for. It wasn’t until the second night that things started to feel... off.
It started with the door.
The door at the end of the hallway. It had always been there, leading into what Lena assumed was some sort of storage closet. But tonight, as she passed by on her way to bed, she noticed something different. A faint sound. It was a whisper, just loud enough to be heard above the creak of the old floorboards.
Lena paused.
She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if the wind had shifted the old timbers. But when she reached for the knob, her hand hesitated. She hadn’t noticed before, but the door had no lock. No handle, either. It was a solid wooden door, painted in a faded shade of brown, its surface marred by age and scratches.
Then, from inside, came a voice. Soft and insistent.
“Lena…”
Her breath caught in her throat. She recoiled from the door, her heart racing. She hadn’t heard her name spoken aloud since she had moved in. There was no one else in the building.
Her body seemed to move on its own as she stumbled back to her apartment, shutting the door behind her. But the feeling didn’t leave. The weight of something unseen pressing against her skin, just out of sight, clawing at the back of her mind.
