Chapter 6: The Whispering Shadows
Darkness swallowed the café. The air turned thick, suffocating, as the door creaked open wider. A gust of cold air swept inside, carrying with it the familiar whispers—soft, fragmented voices speaking in a language I still couldn't understand.
I held my breath. Sophie gripped my arm, trembling. Mark's camera light flickered, casting shaky shadows on the cracked walls.
Then, a figure stepped inside.
It wasn't one of the shadowy beings we had seen outside. This was different. A tall man, draped in a ragged coat, his face obscured beneath the hood. His boots scraped against the floor as he moved cautiously, as if testing the ground with every step.
The wounded stranger we had found gasped, shrinking back into the darkness.
"No," the stranger whispered. "Not him."
Mark aimed his camera at the hooded man. "Who the hell are you?"
The man didn't respond. He turned his head slightly, as though he was listening to something we couldn't hear. Then, slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, rusted object. It glinted under the dim light—an old brass key.
Sophie swallowed hard. "What is that for?"
The stranger in the corner took a shuddering breath. "You need to run."
I clenched my fists. "We're tired of running. Who is he?"
"He's a Gatekeeper," the stranger rasped. "He doesn't speak. He only listens."
Mark's grip on his camera tightened. "Listens to what?"
"To them."
The whispers intensified. The room felt like it was closing in, as though unseen hands were pressing against my chest. The Gatekeeper tilted his head toward me, his posture eerily stiff, then slowly lifted the key toward the air—toward nothing.
The second the key moved, something happened.
The walls shuddered. The dust on the floor rippled, and the lights overhead flickered wildly. The entire café shifted, like reality itself had bent.
And then, a door appeared.
Right there, in the middle of the wall that had been bare seconds ago.
A simple wooden door, slightly ajar, darkness spilling out from the crack.
Sophie let out a strangled gasp. "That wasn't there before."
The stranger pushed himself up against the counter, his face pale with terror. "Don't go through. No matter what, don't step inside!"
The Gatekeeper turned toward us, silent as ever, and pointed to the door.
An invitation.
Or a command.
Mark hesitated. "What happens if we go in?"
The stranger didn't answer at first. When he finally did, his voice was hollow.
"Some doors lead deeper into the city. Others…" He swallowed. "Others lead nowhere. And if you enter a door to nowhere, you never come back."
A deep, guttural noise echoed from beyond the door—a sound that made my skin crawl.
I turned back to the Gatekeeper. He was waiting, patient, his arm still extended toward the door. The brass key dangled from his fingers, swaying slightly.
"What happens if we don't go in?" I asked.
The Gatekeeper's head twitched—just a small movement, barely noticeable. Then, for the first time, I heard him make a sound.
A whisper.
Not words. Just… a breath. A sigh.
And then, behind him, the café's entrance slammed shut.
The windows blackened. The outside world vanished, swallowed by something darker than the night.
Trapped.
My heart pounded. "We're stuck in here with him."
Sophie backed up against the counter. "This can't be happening."
Mark turned his camera to the stranger. "If we can't leave, and we can't go through the door, what the hell are we supposed to do?"
The stranger pressed a hand to his wound, exhaling shakily. "There's another way."
I snapped my head toward him. "Tell us."
His eyes darted to the shelves behind the counter, where dust-covered bottles lined the walls. "There's a hatch. A storage basement. If we can get down there before the door fully opens—"
A loud creak filled the room.
The wooden door was opening further.
A sliver of blackness stretched into the café, something shifting just beyond the threshold. A presence.
Sophie yanked my sleeve. "Ethan, we need to move."
Mark was already scrambling behind the counter, searching desperately for the hatch. The stranger limped after him, his breathing labored.
The Gatekeeper remained where he was, still holding out the key.
The whispers grew louder, filling my head, crawling under my skin.
Then, from the darkness of the door, I heard something.
Not a whisper.
A voice.
It spoke my name.
"Ethan…"
I froze.
My mother's voice.
Impossible.
I took a step forward, heart pounding.
"Ethan," Sophie hissed. "Don't listen to it!"
But I couldn't move. The voice was so familiar. So real.
Then, the door burst open.
And the shadows reached for me.
To be continued…