The house was quiet in the way it only ever was after midnight, when the walls seemed to listen and the glow of my screen felt louder than sound. I was relaxing on the couch of my living room enjoying a now lukewarm cup of coffee whilst indulging in some research for my next project. I had been scrolling through half-forgotten articles about abandoned ruins– collapsed temples, sealed chambers, places no one agreed on anymore– on my old, but still very much reliable laptop, when my phone buzzed against the fabric of the cushions.
Theresa:You need to read this.
A message from my closest acquaintance since college flashed across the screen. The message sent a chill down my spine, I couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but I clicked on the message anyway.
Attached to the message was an article titled "Whisperfalls Ruins: A Forgotten Place That Refuses to Stay Silent."
Some of the article read:
"Whisperfalls is an abandoned site scholars still refuse to enter, locals say Whisperfalls was never a city, but a place of listening, an ancient site no one can fully explain.
According to the oldest rumor, the ruins were built around a sacred chamber where a story was first spoken aloud– not written, not sung, but whispered into the stone itself. The myth claims the walls learned the words and began repeating them, softly at first, then louder with time. Those who stayed too long were said to hear voices echoing their own thoughts back to them, guiding their choices without command.
The fall came when the story was written down.
The scroll, so the rumor goes, was meant to end the telling– to trap the myth in ink before it could fully repeat itself. But the act of recording it fractured the structure. The whispers grew uneven, the walls cracked, and the city collapsed inward, burying the chamber and sealing the story beneath dust and stone.
Now, it's said Whisperfalls does not call out to travelers. It waits for them to listen.
And when the story begins again, the ruins are already awake.
This is why the Whisperfalls Ruins were sealed– and why some say they never should have been found. Locals say, the Whisperfalls Ruins and the legend buried beneath, should have remained that way..."
"Woah.." I said to myself aloud.
I shoot Theresa a quick message back.
Me:What is this?
Somewhere down the hall, a floorboard creaked. I barely looked up. The house did that at night, settling as the temperature dropped.
My phone buzzed again.
A second creak followed, slower this time, echoing through the silence. I told myself it was just the old wood adjusting, as I clicked on the message Theresa had just sent.
Theresa:We need another place to explore and report on. Found one.
Me:Whisperfalls? But it's sealed off. Plus, the article is basically a warning.
Theresa: Do you know how many people would love to read this story though? It's the only place that hasn't been reported from the inside since it collapsed.
Me: Are you sure about this?
Theresa: This could catapult our careers. They would finally take us seriously.
She was right; there were multiple reports on all the other excursions we've been on, therefore no one has been taking us seriously. Everyone has been there, done that.
Me:Fine; What's the plan?
Theresa:We begin, let's say.. Tomorrow @ 5?Before it gets too dark.
Me: Alright. Mine or Yours?
Theresa: Yours; we'll film. Hopefully we'll arrive by 6, I have the coordinates.
Me: Okay, I'll transcribe everything and document it in the report based off of the film.
Theresa: Great! See ya tomorrow, Goodnight.
Me: Night.
I shut my phone off and closed my laptop.
As I walked to the kitchen to put my now empty coffee mug in the sink, the air settled with something thick and uneasy, something eerie, yet unexplainable.
I brushed it off, although it felt different.
The house was stirring old childhood fears I thought I had outgrown. Every night, now that I was living on my own and progressing through life independently, I've always felt like I was never truly alone, particularly at night. I've always been afraid of the dark since I was a child, and I guess this is that childhood fear manifesting into my adult life.
I grabbed my belongings and headed upstairs to bed, each step creaking on the way; the floorboards bowing under my feet. The hallways seemed to echo and stretch, whispers whooshing by, sending a cold shiver down my spine.
The atmosphere of this old house must be playing with my mind. The temperature dropping every night, the creakiness, being on my own, coupled with my fears– it's an easy explanation to accept. Mom always said I had an overactive imagination. That's why I'm in this line of work: to confront my fears, to conquer them.
I reached the end of the hall, grabbing for the knob of my bedroom door, I twisted to open it.
I finally felt a sense of ease wash over me. My room is my safe space, where I believed that nothing could get to me or hurt me.
I quickly slammed the door shut and hopped into my bed, covering my entire self in whole of the blanket. I still had my laptop and phone with me. I was safe.
I was safe.