ECHOES OF THE DEAD
343 Words
Chapter Four : Echoes of the Dead
The attic door wouldn’t budge.
Mira slammed her shoulder against it, rattled the old handle, even screamed — but nothing. No sound carried beyond the room. It was as if the attic had been sealed off from reality itself.
Trapped, she turned back to the journal.
Each page reeked of dust and something older — the scent of forgotten things. Her mother’s handwriting wavered between frantic scribbles and neat, ritualistic lines. It wasn’t just a journal.
It was a record of descent.
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> “The voice came to me when I was fifteen. It called me ‘Nura.’ It said the name held power. I ignored it for months until I saw it in the mirror. It never leaves once it’s chosen you.”
> “My grandmother called it ‘the Devil’s Whisper.’ She said we were born with our ears turned toward it.”
> “I tried everything — therapy, priests, silence. Nothing worked. The more I ignored it, the angrier it got.”
> “Until I made the pact.”
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Mira’s pulse jumped.
A pact?
Before she could flip the next page, a click echoed across the attic. The old radio in the corner — unplugged and dusty — turned on by itself.
White noise filled the room.
Then: a voice.
“Do you remember the song, Anmira?”
A static melody began to play. Faint, warped, but familiar. A lullaby. One her mother used to hum when Mira was sick. But there was something wrong with it now — a deeper voice underneath the tune, mimicking her mother’s words… but twisting them.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the radio — but when she touched it, a cold jolt ran up her arm. She saw a flash:
A woman screaming.
A circle of salt on the floor.
A voice saying, “Take the girl instead.”
The attic door creaked open behind her.
Mira turned — no one was there.
But she wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
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- Writer
