The Whispering Cellar

The night was thick with fog when Sarah and Jake arrived at the old farmhouse, nestled deep in the woods. It had belonged to Sarah’s great-uncle, a man she’d never met but had inherited the property from after his mysterious death. She hadn’t wanted to come, but Jake insisted on seeing it.

“It’ll be fun,” Jake had said, beaming as they stepped out of the car. “Like an adventure.”

Now, as they stood in front of the looming structure, the adventure felt more like a mistake.

“Are you sure about this?” Sarah asked, her voice quivering.

Jake smirked, unfazed by the eerie silence surrounding them. “Come on, it’s just a house. Let’s check it out.”

Reluctantly, Sarah followed him inside, the door creaking as it swung open. The interior was worse than she expected—dilapidated, with rotting wood and a musty smell that hung in the air like a thick blanket. Every step they took echoed ominously through the house.

Jake’s curiosity led them deeper into the building until they reached the cellar door. It was slightly ajar, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.

“We shouldn’t go down there,” Sarah said, gripping Jake’s arm.

He chuckled, pulling a flashlight from his backpack. “You scared of the dark? There’s probably just some old junk down there. Might be worth checking out.”

Before she could protest, Jake pulled open the door and started descending the steps. Sarah stood at the top, frozen, watching him disappear into the gloom. A moment later, his voice called up to her.

“Hey! Come down here, it’s not that bad!”

Her heart raced, but she couldn’t leave him alone. With a deep breath, she followed him down the creaky wooden steps, each one groaning under her weight.

The cellar was cold, much colder than the rest of the house. The damp air clung to her skin, and an unsettling feeling gripped her chest. Jake was crouched by an old, dusty table, examining what looked like a notebook.

“This is weird,” he muttered, flipping through its pages. “There’s nothing written in it.”

Sarah glanced around, her eyes landing on the far wall. It was covered in strange markings, symbols etched deep into the stone. “Jake… I don’t like this. Let’s go back upstairs.”

Before Jake could respond, a low whisper filled the room, soft at first, but growing louder, more urgent.

“Leave…”

Sarah’s blood ran cold. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, backing away from the wall.

Jake looked up, frowning. “What? I didn’t hear anything.”

The whisper came again, louder now, almost a hiss. “Get out… before it wakes…”

“We need to leave,” Sarah said, her voice shaking. “Now.”

Jake stood, but before they could move, a scraping noise echoed from the corner of the cellar. A large, rusted grate began to shift, as if something beneath it was trying to claw its way up.

Jake’s face paled. “Sarah… run!”

They bolted for the stairs, the whispers growing into a cacophony of voices, screaming, wailing, begging them to escape. Just as they reached the top, the cellar door slammed shut on its own, trapping them in the dark.

And then, the whispers stopped.

But something else began to breathe.