The Whispering Wall

"I found the apartment after weeks of searching. It was cheap, central, and looked perfect—except

for the one strange rule: Never, ever hang anything on the living room wall.

The landlord was insistent, almost panicked, about it. I ignored him,

of course. I bought a picture frame, a landscape print of a serene forest,

and drove a small nail into the wall right above the sofa. That night,

a scratching started. Not mice, but something rhythmic, coming from inside the wall.

I knocked; it stopped. I went to sleep. The next morning, the picture was slightly tilted.

I fixed it. That night, the scratching was louder, faster,