The Voices in the Wall.

"I've been having these weird dreams. They're unsettling, not nightmares, but," I admitted, shaking my head.

"What do you see?" Dr. Singhs asked.

"A mansion, and inside that mansion are multiple rooms, it seems like I'm the only one in the house, but I hear voices."

"What do they say?"

I looked up and frowned, "That's the thing, I can't make out any words. I look in every room but I can't find anything and the voices are always there."

Dr. Singhs sighed, "Ryan, you're getting all worked up. Why don't we pick this up tomorrow? For now, just try and get some rest and write down what you see in your dreams."

I didn't want to go home, I wanted to figure out why I was seeing these things. I had thought it was a strange dream until I started having it every single night. That night was no different than any other.

I took a couple sleeping pills and found myself in the mansion once more.

I wandered around trying desperately to drown out the angry throb of murky voices and failing. I climbed up the stairs and shivered as I heard something else come creeping up behind me. I turned and saw nothing there.

I found my way into a study of some sort. It was a room I had never seen before. That was unusual, I could have sworn I had seen every room. Lined on the wall were rows of bookshelves, covered in dusty books. I recognized only a few titles but everything else seemed completely unfamiliar.

I felt a shiver again and watched as three books fell off the shelves.

"History of Windenbirch Manor", "The Voices in the Wall", and "The Secret Arch" sat in a mess of folded pages on the floor.

As I approached the books the angry buzz of voices grew louder. My head pounded I picked up each book. I skimmed through each of them and froze. Each book contained my name, and each one talked about my dream.

The voices grew louder still, a roaring storm of rioting men and women in my head. I turned to the bookshelves and found an arched piece of wall that was untouched by bookshelves and touched the center stone. It slid into the wall and, stone by stone, the archway cleared leading to a stairway below.

The voices howled with anger, and a gust of hot wind scalded my flesh. I howled along with them, letting the fear and dread become one with the cacophony of noise. I howled until I couldn't tell the difference between my voice and the voices from the walls. I howled until I became one of the voices from the wall.