Whispers in the Walls

I don’t talk about that apartment much anymore. It was a basement suite,

cheap, cold, and just quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat when the

fridge wasn’t humming. I moved in during October, and by November, I started noticing…

things. Small, at first. My keys vanishing, only to show up

in places I was sure I hadn’t been. The bathroom light flicking on by itself. I blamed old wiring.

Sleep deprivation. Anything. But then came the scratching. It started in the

wall by the head of my bed. A light skittering, like claws on drywall. I thought: rats.

The landlord said, “No way. No one else has complained.” But it kept happening.