Chapter 1: The Whisper in the Dark
The night wouldn't end.
No matter how many times Elara checked the clock, the hands never seemed to move.
2:47 a.m.
Again.
The old house creaked as if it were breathing — slow, uneven, alive. The wind outside howled through the cracks in the window frame, brushing cold air across her bare arms. She tightened the blanket around herself and tried to ignore the noise.
Why does it feel like this house hates me? she thought. It was supposed to feel like home. Grandma's home… but why do I feel like I'm trespassing in someone else's nightmare?
The walls were lined with old portraits — faded, cracked, all staring at her as though waiting for her to blink first. She had inherited the place after her grandmother's death, a woman who had lived her whole life surrounded by whispers of strange things.
People in town used to say the old woman talked to shadows.
I laughed at them… I thought it was nonsense.
Until tonight.
She turned down the flame of her lantern, trying to save the oil. That's when she heard it.
A whisper.
So soft she almost thought it was her own breath.
"Can you keep me?"
Elara froze.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, hard enough to hurt.
That… that wasn't the wind. No one else is here. But… what if someone is?
She looked around — the room was still. The curtains swayed slightly from the wind, but that was all.
"Can you keep me?"
The voice came again, this time from the corner of the room. High-pitched. Fragile. Like a child asking for a promise.
Elara's throat went dry.
"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
No answer. Just silence — thick and heavy, pressing down on her chest.
Okay, breathe. Probably the wind. Or maybe I'm just tired.
She tried to steady her breathing. Yes… just tired.
Grabbing the lantern, she turned the knob to make the flame brighter. The light flickered, then steadied — and she felt the air shift.
Someone's here. I know it.
Slowly, she turned her head — nothing. The corner was empty. The chair, the old dresser, the cracked mirror — all exactly as they had been.
She exhaled shakily and set the lantern on the nightstand.
"Get a grip, Elara," she whispered. "You're just tired."
But even as she lay back down, she couldn't shake the sound of that voice.
It's not just my imagination. I know it isn't…
When she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, the voice came again — this time, in her dreams.
"Can you keep me?"
Only now, it wasn't a whisper. It was right beside her ear.
She woke to the lantern flickering. The glass rattled, as if someone had touched it.
Then came the footsteps. Soft. Bare. Moving slowly across the wooden floor.
Elara sat up, heart hammering, staring into the dim light.
The steps stopped near the mirror. She squinted, her pulse pounding in her temples.
There — a shadow. Small. Still.
Oh God… it's real.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What do you want?"
The air grew colder. Her breath turned white.
The lantern flickered again, and for a second — just a second — she saw it.
A little girl.
Pale skin, tangled hair, eyes black as the space between stars. She stood in front of the mirror, her head tilted slightly to the side.
And she was smiling.
Elara couldn't move. Couldn't even scream.
The girl's lips parted.
"You heard me."
The voice was the same — soft and sweet, echoing like a lullaby from the grave.
"Now you have to keep me."
The lantern went out. Darkness swallowed the room whole.
Elara gasped and scrambled for her phone. The screen lit up with shaking hands — 3:12 a.m.
The little girl was gone.
But on the mirror's fogged surface, words were written in small, uneven letters:
THANK YOU FOR KEEPING ME
Her phone slipped from her grip and fell to the floor with a dull thud.
The letters began to drip, like blood running down glass.
Elara backed away until her shoulders hit the wall.
I can't… I can't deal with this…
She wanted to scream, to run, to wake up from whatever nightmare this was —
But something cold touched her hand.
She looked down. Tiny fingers. Bone-white. Clutching her wrist.
"You promised…" the voice whispered.
The lantern flared back to life — by itself.
The room was empty.
Elara stood frozen, trembling, staring at her own reflection.
But her reflection didn't move with her.
It was smiling.
No… no… no… this isn't real… it can't be…
If you like, I can also rewrite Chapter 2 with her inner thoughts so the suspense is just as immersive, giving readers a full "inside her head" experience.
Do you want me to do that?