The Thing in the Walls

When Daniel moved into the old apartment, he didn’t expect much. It was cheap, a little run-down, but good enough for a fresh start. The landlord had been eager to rent it out—almost too eager.

“You’ll hear some noises,” the old man had said, avoiding Daniel’s eyes. “It’s an old building, walls settle, pipes creak. Just don’t… knock back.”

Daniel had laughed at that. “Knock back? Why would I do that?”

The landlord had only given him a tight smile before handing over the keys.

The first night, he heard it.

A soft, rhythmic tapping from inside the walls.

At first, he assumed it was a neighbor. But the sound didn’t come from the other apartments—it came from inside the walls of his unit.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He pressed his ear against the drywall. A shiver ran through him.

Something was moving in there.

Mice, maybe? Rats? The idea made his skin crawl. He decided to ignore it and went to bed.

At 3:00 a.m., he woke up to a different sound.

Knocking.

Not random scurrying or scratching—this was deliberate.

Three slow knocks.

Right behind his headboard.

Daniel sat up, his pulse hammering.

Silence.

Then, before he could stop himself, he lifted a fist—

And knocked back.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A moment of stillness.

Then—

The knocking answered.

Only this time, it was louder. Closer.

Daniel scrambled out of bed, his breath ragged. It’s just the pipes. Just the pipes.

Then something whispered from inside the wall.

His stomach turned to ice.

He backed away, staring at the drywall. The whispering continued—low, urgent, like a voice muffled by fabric.

He had to get out.

He grabbed his phone and keys and rushed to the door—

Bang!

A deafening thud shook the apartment. The walls buckled inward, as if something inside was trying to push through.

Daniel’s breath hitched. His legs felt frozen.

Then—

A long, pale hand burst through the drywall.

Fingers, too thin and too long, wriggled blindly in the air.

Daniel choked back a scream and bolted for the door. He yanked it open and sprinted into the hallway, not stopping until he was outside, gulping in the cold night air.

He didn’t go back.

The next day, the landlord called.

“You knocked, didn’t you?”

Daniel could barely speak. “What the hell is in that apartment?”

The old man sighed. “It wasn’t always in the walls.”

A long pause.

“Someone put it there.”