Chapter 2 – The Whispering Walls
Evelyn's grip on her bag tightened. "What do you mean, my aunt wasn't alone?"
Adrian Blackwood leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable. "Strange things happened in this house. People in town said your aunt spoke to someone at night. But no one ever saw who it was."
Evelyn swallowed. She had always known her Aunt Margaret was eccentric, but this? It sounded ridiculous. Ghost stories, small-town rumors—none of it should matter. Yet, standing in this house, with the air so thick and silent, she couldn't shake the feeling that Adrian's words weren't entirely wrong.
"That's just superstition," she said.
"Maybe." Adrian smirked. "But I'd be careful, Miss Carter. The shadows here tend to linger."
Before she could respond, he turned and disappeared into the misty night.
Evelyn exhaled, closing the door behind him. This is ridiculous. It's just an old house.
She moved through the grand hallway, flicking on a few lights. The warm glow revealed towering bookshelves, antique furniture covered in white sheets, and portraits of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow her.
Then, she heard it.
A whisper.
Faint. Almost like a sigh.
She froze. "Hello?"
Silence.
Shaking her head, she chalked it up to exhaustion. She had been traveling all day, and her mind was playing tricks on her. Deciding to settle in, she headed for the study—Aunt Margaret's favorite room.
The firewood in the hearth was untouched, but the room smelled of burnt paper. Strange. Dust clung to everything except the desk, as if someone had been sitting there recently.
She brushed her fingers over the surface and felt something rough. A burn mark. Right in the center.
Frowning, she pulled open a drawer. Inside was an envelope, yellowed with age, its edges singed. Carefully, she unfolded the brittle paper and read the first few words.
"Evelyn, if you're reading this… it means I'm gone. And that the truth is finally catching up to you."
Her breath hitched.
A cold gust blew through the room, though the windows were shut.
Then—behind her—a soft creak.
Like a door opening.
Evelyn's pulse spiked. Slowly, she turned toward the hallway.
One of the heavy wooden doors that had been shut was now slightly ajar.
And from within the darkness, she swore she saw a shadow move.
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