Whispers in the Dark

Mara froze. The voice sounded like her uncle—almost. But wrong. Like someone puppeting

his throat. She leaned closer. “Who is this?” The static pulsed like a heartbeat.

“I found the way out,” it whispered. “But it needs someone else to take my place.”

The attic door slammed behind her. Her flashlight died instantly. The voice changed,

twisting into a wet, gurgling rasp that crawled under her skin.

“Don’t worry, Mara. You’ll only feel it once.” Cold fingers—impossibly

thin, impossibly long—slid out of the darkness behind her and touched the back of her

neck. The radio screeched. And then the voice coming through the speaker softened,