THE WHISPERING WALL
The hostel was quieter than usual, and that silence had weight.
Ariella Cole rubbed her eyes, frustrated, the blue glare of her laptop screen already triggering a dull headache. The final-year seminar paper wasn't writing itself, and NEPA had struck again. Her laptop battery blinked red — 8% — and the backup power outlet in her room had fried weeks ago.
There was one option left: the common room downstairs. Creepy at night, but it had the only reliable socket.
Ariella threw on her hoodie, slid into her rubber slides, and tucked her charger and phone under her arm. The hallway lights buzzed above her, dim and half-dead like everything else in Block C. As she descended the cracked steps, the silence followed.
She entered the common room and paused.
The long rectangular room was empty. One fluorescent light flickered above, casting pale shadows across the faded white walls. At the far end was the socket — the one with the long, jagged crack in the wall beside it. Everyone joked that the wall looked haunted, especially after that incident with the girl from Room 15 who transferred after "hearing things."
Ariella didn't believe in ghost stories.
Not really.
She walked to the far wall and plugged in her charger. Her laptop screen came to life.
Then… a sound.
Not a sound, exactly — more like a breath.
Soft. Right behind her.
> "Don't turn around."
The voice was hers. Her exact tone. But she hadn't spoken.
Ariella's spine turned cold. Her fingers froze on the keyboard. Her eyes darted left and right, but she didn't move her head.
Silence.
She whipped around, chest pounding.
Nothing.
No one.
Just the flickering light, buzzing slightly louder now, like it was aware of her fear.
She let out a shaky laugh and shook her head. Stress. Sleep deprivation. That's all this is.
She returned to her screen and tried to focus. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then the wall beside her crackled.
And whispered.
> "They're watching. Don't trust the mirror."
Ariella jerked away from the socket, nearly yanking the charger out.
This time she didn't look back. She grabbed her phone, heart hammering, and ran to the hallway.
Just then, a ding.
Text message.
UNKNOWN:
"You heard it this time, didn't you?"
She stared at the screen, her blood ice.
How would anyone know?
Seconds later, another message arrived.
UNKNOWN:
"Room 23. Midnight. Don't come alone.