Whispers in the Dark

I’ve been trapped in this mansion for what feels like an eternity, reliving the same memories over and over, my thoughts tangled in an endless web of guilt and regret. The creaks and groans of the old wooden floorboards are the only sounds that break the silence, the haunting echoes of a place forgotten by time.

My eyes wander to the portrait on the wall, a dusty reminder of a life I once had. My family, their faces frozen in time—smiling, laughing, untouched by the darkness that now engulfs me. Their joy mocks me, a stark contrast to the hollow, haunted expression I know I wear. I’ve been dead longer than I care to remember, a ghost tethered to this house, shackled by my own sins.

The whispers started shortly after I died. At first, I thought it was just my own thoughts, a product of my unraveling sanity. But no… something else lingers here, something darker than even death. A voice slithers through the silence, low and insidious, curling around my mind like a serpent. "You'll never escape the darkness within."

I try to shake it off, to ignore the feeling of being watched, but the shadows… they move of their own accord. They twist and contort, mocking the shape of my body as I float from room to room, never at rest. And then there’s Alex, my roommate of sorts, though he doesn’t know I exist. At least, not yet. He’s been acting strange, more so than usual. He’s just a student, renting a room in this decaying mansion, unaware of the history trapped within its walls.

At first, I brushed off his nervous behavior as anxiety about some exam. But the way he avoids looking at me, the way his hands tremble as he moves through the house—it unsettles me. I catch him whispering to himself one evening, his voice trembling with fear. "They're coming for us," he mutters, but I know… I know he’s talking about me.

I’ve tried to reach out to him, tried to tell him what’s coming, but the darkness is growing. It closes in around me, and with it, the memories I’ve been trying so hard to forget. The night of the accident… the screams… my family’s faces twisted in horror as the car spun out of control. I hear their pleas for help echoing in my mind, but it’s my own voice that sends shivers down my spine.

“I’m the one who’s been driving, all along.”

I am the monster. I am the darkness.

The whispers grow louder, taunting me, pushing me closer to the edge. I can feel the pull of the darkness, urging me to let go, to surrender to the madness that’s been creeping through my soul since the day I died. But I can’t. I won’t. I have to resist, for them… for their memory. But resisting feels like drowning, the weight of my guilt dragging me deeper into the abyss.

The clock strikes 3:33, its chime reverberating through the house like a death knell. That number… it holds meaning, though I can’t recall why. As I drift through the hallway, I see a small piece of paper on the floor. A single word is scrawled on it: Remember.

Suddenly, a flash of images slices through my mind like broken glass—shards of my past, a life long gone. I see a figure, tall and imposing, looming over me, and a voice—low and menacing—whispers in my ear: Mine.

The image fades, leaving me gasping for breath that never comes. What does it mean? Why can’t I remember?

I have to leave. I have to escape before the darkness consumes me entirely. But as I turn to flee, I hear it. My own voice, echoing from the shadows. "Stay," it urges, sweet and seductive. But it’s not me. It’s the voice of the darkness, tempting me to surrender.

I glance back, and there it is—the door. My way out. But the house feels alive now, as if it's feeding off my despair, pulling me back with invisible hands. I can feel the shadows creeping closer, their cold breath on the back of my neck. I know I have to make a choice—run, or face what lies within.

As I reach for the doorknob, a sound freezes me in place. A low, rhythmic beat—my heartbeat. But… I’m dead. I shouldn’t have a heartbeat. What is happening to me?

“Did you hear that?” Alex’s voice breaks the silence. He’s standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes wide with terror as he stares directly at me. He can see me now, I realize, truly see me. His fear is palpable, and for the first time, I understand.

He’s not afraid of the house. He’s afraid of me.

The lights flicker and die, plunging us into darkness. I feel the walls closing in, the shadows tightening their grip. And then, everything goes black.

I’ve been running for so long—running from the truth, from the darkness inside me. But now I see it for what it is.

I am the darkness.

And no matter how far I run, I’ll never escape it.

To which of the following prompts does this story fit the most?

 Write a story with the aim of scaring your reader.

Short Story: Start or end your story with someone running away from something, literally or metaphorically.

Dramatic: Write a story from the point of view of a ghost, vampire, or werewolf.

Short Story: Center your story around someone trying to resist their darker impulses — and they’ll either succeed or fail.

Angst: Write a story in which the narrator or a character says "Did you hear that?"

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Author’s Note:

“Whispers in the Dark” explores the lingering effects of guilt and the struggle between light and darkness within us all. I hope this story resonates with those who’ve faced their own shadows.