The Whispering Figure

I woke up at 2:14 a.m. to the sound of someone whispering my name. The voice came from

the hallway — soft, careful, like it didn’t want to wake anyone else in the house.

But I live alone. I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight. The beam caught

the outline of a figure standing at the end of the hall, facing the wall.

Perfectly still “Who are you?” I croaked. The figure slowly raised its hand,

pressing a single finger against the plaster. My phone buzzed in my pocket — a

notification. A new photo has been added to your device. I opened it with

shaking hands. It was a picture of me, taken from behind, seconds ago… staring