They said no one had entered the old house in thirty years — But when Silas crossed its weeping gate, The door exhaled, and silence reappeared, A hush that smothered sound, and sealed his fate.
The air was thick with whispers sewn, In cracks, in dust, in every stone. Each breath he took was not his own — The walls were breathing through his bones.
“We’ve been waiting… we’ve been near…”
His flashlight stuttered — a single spark, And on the wall, a bleeding mark. A handprint pressed from deep inside, Dripping slow, as if it cried.
The stairs did groan with aching breath, Each step a hymn to waking death. Above, a door began to creak — And something called, so soft, so bleak.
“Come upstairs… come closer now…”
The voice was layered, wet and loud, Like drowning voices in a shroud. A giggle echoed — childlike, torn — A laugh that never had been born.
A dragging sound across the floor, The scent of rot, behind each door. And when he turned, the hall grew thin — A shape stood there, without its skin.
“Don’t look back…”
But he did. And oh, the grin — It split the air, it split his chin. A face of mirrors, cracked and deep, Its eyes were holes that didn’t sleep.
He fell. The floor was warm, alive — It pulsed beneath him, it began to writhe. The walls were slick, the wallpaper screamed, And in the dark, the house had dreamed.
“You let us in…”
His phone lit up — a trembling glow, But what it showed, he didn’t know. Himself, on screen — yet not alone, A shadow whispered through his phone.
Hands pressed through the paper skin, Eyes blinked where cracks had always been. They watched, they followed, wide and white — And whispered softly, “Stay tonight.”
The door was gone, the flesh was warm, The house remade him, limb and form. He screamed, but only whispers came, Each one repeating Silas’s name.
“Now you’re ours… now you see…”
The floorboards pulsed — a beating heart, The ceiling wept. The lights fell apart. He sank into the living wall, And joined the whispers — one of all.
When dawn returned, the house stood still, Its windows blank, its rooms all filled. And those who passed could sometimes hear — A whisper breathing in their ear…
“We’re still hungry… come inside…”