Chapter 6: The Rules Of The Whispers
838 Words
The room still felt wrong.
Even though the candle had flickered back to life and the darkness had retreated, a heavy, suffocating presence lingered in the air. It was as if something unseen still watched from the corners, waiting.
Emeka’s grip on the jagged black stone tightened. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the crackling of the weak candle flame.
Madam Nwokocha sat down slowly, her frail hands trembling as she reached for a small wooden bowl on the floor. She took a handful of the thick, tar-like substance and smeared it across her arms in long, deliberate strokes.
Then she looked at him—her gaze sharp, piercing.
“It knows you now, Emeka. And once the whispers know your name, they do not stop.”
His mouth felt dry. “What do you mean?”
She let out a weary sigh. “I mean… you have been marked.”
A shiver ran down his spine.
“The whisper called you,” she continued, her voice low. “And though you did not answer, it does not matter. You have already acknowledged it. And that means it will keep coming back.”
Emeka swallowed hard. His mind screamed to reject what she was saying, but he couldn’t. He had felt it. Heard it.
Seen the door open on its own.
Felt the ice-cold fingers brush against his skin.
This was real.
And it wasn’t over.
“There are rules,” Madam Nwokocha said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Rules you must follow if you want to survive.”
Emeka clenched his fists. “Tell me.”
She nodded solemnly, then held up four fingers.
“Rule One: Never speak to the whisper. No matter how much it calls, no matter whose voice it uses. If you answer, it will take you.”
He felt his stomach tighten. “Whose voice?”
She hesitated, then spoke carefully. “It can mimic. It will use the voices of those you love—your mother, your father, your friends. It will try to trick you into answering.”
His chest grew tight. “So if I hear someone calling me—”
“Do not respond.”
The candle flickered violently for a second.
Madam Nwokocha lifted her second finger.
“Rule Two: Keep the black stone with you at all times. Never let it out of your sight, never drop it. It is the only thing keeping you from slipping into their world.”
Emeka glanced at the jagged stone in his palm. It still felt warm, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
“Where does it come from?” he asked.
She hesitated before answering. “From the old ways. From the time before we forgot how to protect ourselves.”
Something about the way she said it made his skin prickle.
She raised a third finger.
“Rule Three: If you hear the whispers inside your home… leave. Do not sleep there. Do not try to wait it out. Just go.”
Emeka’s blood turned cold. “But… what if I don’t have anywhere else to go?”
Madam Nwokocha’s face darkened. “Then you will not wake up.”
A lump formed in his throat.
She lifted her fourth and final finger.
“Rule Four: Never, under any circumstances, look at it.”
The room fell silent.
Emeka felt his pulse quicken.
“Never?” he whispered.
She shook her head slowly. “No matter how much it begs. No matter what it promises. No matter how strong the temptation… do not look.”
He shuddered.
His mind flashed back to the voice. The way it had pleaded with him in the dark.
“Emeka… just look at me.”
He had been close. So close. If he hadn’t been warned, would he have obeyed?
The thought made his stomach turn.
“What happens if I do?” he asked quietly.
Madam Nwokocha didn’t answer right away.
Then, finally, she whispered, “You will not be here anymore.”
A heavy silence filled the room.
Emeka’s fingers curled around the stone. He exhaled shakily. “And if I follow these rules? Will it leave me alone?”
Madam Nwokocha’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Then she said the words he had been dreading.
“No.”
His stomach twisted. “Then what’s the point?”
“The point,” she said, “is to make sure it does not take you before your time.”
Before his time.
That meant there would always be a time.
A time when it would come for him. A time when he would no longer be able to run.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
A loud gust of wind suddenly rattled the windows. The candle sputtered. The shadows stretched and twisted again.
And then…
A whisper.
Faint. Distant. But clear.
“E…me…ka…”
Madam Nwokocha grabbed his hand.
“We must go,” she said urgently.
Emeka didn’t need to be told twice.
- Writer
