Whispers from the Wall

Ever felt like you’re not alone, even when the house is silent? My old dog,

he’d stare at the empty corner of my bedroom, a low growl in his chest.

I always blamed the wind. Then, things started. My keys weren't

where I left them. Doors I swore I’d locked, slightly ajar. Last night,

I woke to a faint scratching sound. It was coming from *inside* the wall right beside my

bed. I held my breath, pressing my ear against the cold plaster.

The scratching stopped. Then, a whisper, wet and ragged, came from *within*

the wall. "He's finally home."