Whisper in the Dark

abandonedhouse“Please help us!”

He played the recording over and over again. Everything he had ever believed about life, death, and the hereafter changed in a moment. The voice on the recording was the clear whisper of a child. Desperation and fear hung heavy in her plea.

What made this brief recording so life changing is that Echo had been alone in the abandoned house when he had recorded it. He had only been in that house that night to make a point; the place wasn’t haunted, and there were no such thing as ghosts.

However, it was exactly the opposite that had taken place. Echo now knew the place was haunted, and knew that ghosts did in fact exist.

He played the brief audio capture several more times before asking himself,

How can I help?”

The voice haunted his thoughts long after he stopped the audio play back and stepped away from his laptop. The voice sounded as if it belonged to a small child -a little girl, and in her voice was a palpable fear and desperation.

Despite not knowing how to help, or even where to begin to regain contact, Echo felt compelled to go back to the abandoned house and offer to do what ever aid he could to bring rest to the spirit.

…..

Echo stood in the upstairs bedroom. The room, like the rest of the house, was covered in dirt and debris; decades of neglect and abuse evident in the shattered windows, graffiti, and kicked in doors. In the corner of the room lay a doll over grown with dust and mold. Its remaining eye stared blankly at the crumbling ceiling.

tealightsThe soft light of burning candles did little to dispel the darkness. Shadows danced around the room in rhythm with the flickering of each gentle flame. For Echo, the light pushed back the darkness enough for him to see both the time on his watch and the display on the face of his digital recorder.

It was 3 a.m., approximately the same time when he recorded the first message. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed record on his digital recorder.

“H-hello? Spirit? I heard your cry for help. I recorded it on this device in my hand when I was here the other night. Wh…how can I help?”

He stood in the silence thinking himself insane. He pressed stop on the recorder after a few quiet moments and let out a long sigh.

“Echo, what the hell are you doing? Alright, let’s see if I got anything, or if I’m just crazy.”

The recorder played back. His voice came through crisp and clear followed by the hissing of white noise. As the recording drew close to the end a faint whisper could be heard.

“What the fuck?”

tascamEcho rewound and played back the recording increasing the volume to its maximum level. His voice boomed through the speaker reverberating through the room followed by white noise broken by a faint whisper. He played the recording three more times until he was certain he heard the message correctly.

“Find me…mommy doesn’t know. She’s scared.”

“Holy shit! Holy shit!”

His heart raced and goose bumps formed on his flesh. The air felt charged with electricity. Fear and excitement fought for supremacy in his mind as he struggled to will his legs to stand firm. In trembling hand he pressed record.

“Wh-who are you? Where are you?”

He waited for another few silent seconds before stopping and playing back the recording. Through the hiss and crackle of the white noise he heard another clear whisper.

“I’m scared. Please find me before it comes back!”

He worked tirelessly through the early hours of the morning. Recording, asking questions, pleading for answers that would help him bring the spirit rest, but no more replies came. Certain he would receive no more answers, he gathered his things and headed out to his car.

…..

foggy-windshieldThe windows of his car were fogged against the morning chill. He placed his belonging in the car and got in. As he was considering his next move his thoughts were interrupted by a squeaking along his windshield.

In horror he watched as an invisible hand cut through the moisture on his window writing out:

L-E-A-V-E  N-O-W!

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

The engine roared to life. Gravel kicked up as his tires spun against the dirt propelling him back towards the road. He sped off on the main road towards his apartment.

“The fuck? What the fuck was that?”

His heart pounded against his chest like a bird trying to escape its cage. His mind raced with the speed of his car. He had to get home and consider his next move.

 

 

 

 

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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4 Responses to Whisper in the Dark

  1. Wow! Have me goose bumps!

    Liked by 1 person

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