CHAPTER 4 — The Watcher in the Halls
713 Words
The trail of flickering lights stopped at the far end of the long corridor, right outside a door Kezia had not dared to open since arriving. Its wood was darker than the others, almost blackened at the edges, as if burned long ago.
Her fingers hovered above the doorknob.
“Mom… Dad…” she whispered, unsure if the name was a prayer or a plea.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Cold drifted around her ankles like fog.
The chandelier above her jingled faintly, though there was no wind.
She turned the knob.
The hinges screamed as the door cracked open, revealing a study room—ripped wallpaper, scattered papers, a broken chair, and a large portrait on the wall.
She stepped inside.
Her flashlight swept across the portrait, and Kezia inhaled sharply.
It was her father.
Younger. Confident. Posing in this same house.
But someone had slashed the canvas, right across his eyes.
She took a step closer. “Dad… what happened to you here?”
As she reached out, the floor behind her groaned.
She froze.
Someone was in the hallway.
Slow, heavy steps.
Not rushed.
Not random.
Like whoever—or whatever—was there wanted her to hear it.
Kezia turned slowly, gripping her flashlight like a weapon.
No one.
The hallway was empty.
But the footsteps continued, circling her, crawling up the walls, echoing above her. Like the house was pacing.
Watching her.
A cold whisper brushed past her ear.
“Not here.”
Kezia’s blood turned to ice. She stumbled back, her flashlight shaking wildly as she scanned the room.
Nothing.
No body.
No shadow.
No source.
Just the echo of a voice that did not belong to anyone living.
Her hands trembled, and she backed out of the study, slamming the door shut.
She ran down the corridor toward the main hall, heart pounding. When she reached the base of the staircase, she heard knocking.
But not from inside the mansion.
From outside.
Someone was at the front door.
Kezia grabbed the handle, yanked it open—and gasped.
“Elias?”
He stood on the porch, out of breath, sweat on his forehead like he had run all the way there.
“Kezia—get out of the house.”
His voice was sharp, urgent.
“Right now.”
She stared at him, confused and shaken. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“I found something about your parents,” Elias said, pushing past her into the foyer. “Something the local police hid. Something about the night they went missing.”
Kezia felt her stomach twist. “Tell me.”
“Not here,” he whispered. His eyes darted toward the dark hallways. “This house… it’s not safe.”
“I know that,” Kezia snapped. “Just say it, Elias.”
He swallowed.
“Kezia, your parents weren’t the first ones to vanish inside this mansion. But they were the only ones… who came back.”
Kezia felt dizzy. “Came back? But they died—”
“No.” Elias shook his head. “Their bodies were found outside. In the forest. Not inside the house.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying something—or someone—from inside drove them out. Something chased them. Something left marks on them that didn’t match any human attack.”
Kezia’s breath hitched.
Elias continued, voice trembling:
“There’s one more thing. Before your parents died… they were looking for someone. A boy.”
“A boy?” Kezia whispered.
Elias nodded slowly.
“No name. No records. Just… a note your mother wrote.”
He pulled a folded paper from his pocket.
Kezia opened it with shaking hands.
Her mother’s handwriting.
“He doesn’t know he’s dead.”
Kezia stared at the words, heart thundering in her chest.
A chill swept through the room.
The lights flickered.
The front door slammed shut behind them.
Elias jumped back. “Kezia… someone’s here.”
Kezia turned toward the staircase.
Footsteps.
Slow, deliberate.
Descending from the upper floor.
She couldn’t see who it was.
But she felt it.
The presence from last night.
The whisperer.
The shadow.
The one her mother wrote about.
The one who didn’t know he was dead.
- Writer
