Whispers in the Wall

Do you ever hear sounds that shouldn't be there? Last night, a soft,

insistent scratching began behind my bedroom wall. Not a mouse; this was too deliberate.

Too close. Tap… tap-tap… pause. Then, it scraped slowly downward.

I froze, every nerve on edge. The sound moved, tracing a distinct pattern.

It wasn't just *in* the wall. It was *writing* something. I pressed my ear

tight against the cold plaster. The scratching stopped. Then, a faint,

ragged whisper sighed from directly inside the wall. "I finally finished your name."