Chapter Title:

Chapter 1: The Whispering Walls


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Chapter Text (Paste This):

The storm had not stopped for three nights.

In the silence between the thunder, she could hear it again — those faint whispers inside the walls.

Helena gripped the edge of her hospital desk, eyes locked on the cracked plaster just above the patient bed. Room 313. No one lasted long in it.

St. Delora’s Mental Asylum had been standing since 1892, tucked away beyond the woods outside Black Hollow town. People said it was cursed. Helena didn’t believe in curses. Not until she met Patient 47.

He was quiet, pale, and watched the walls like something might crawl out any moment. And every night, at exactly 3:13 a.m., he whispered one thing:
“They’re waiting in the house.”

When she asked him which house, he simply smiled and said,
“The house that listens.”

Then he scratched a drawing onto the padded wall. A house. Long windows like eyes. And dozens of ears, carved into the bricks.

The next morning, he vanished. The staff blamed it on a clerical error. No one else remembered admitting him. Not even the security cameras showed anything.

But Helena had the drawing.

And a voice had started whispering to her, too.

In her sleep.

In her walls.

She knew she had to go to the house.

The same house from the drawing.

The one no one dared talk about.

The one that appears in the dreams of madmen.

The House of Whispers.

the day Nora found that dusty, broken locket in the old cellar of the house, strange whispers had begun haunting her ears—faint, breathy voices, like someone murmuring secrets from within the walls.


Every night, when the house went quiet, sleep refused to come. Instead, she heard footsteps—soft, dragging footsteps—beneath the wooden floorboards. Someone was walking… very slowly. But every time she peeked downstairs, no one was there.


One night, she finally gathered the courage. She turned on her phone's flashlight and pried open the loose wooden planks on the floor. Darkness yawned beneath them. She hesitated—then carefully lowered the locket down.


Suddenly, a cold gust of air rushed upward and struck her face. A faint whisper curled through the air:


That voice... it was the same one from her childhood nightmares.


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Chapter 9 - THE FOOTSTEPS BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS