Echoes Behind the Walls
1022 Words
Amara barely slept after hiding with Oliver inside the narrow passageway.
The sound of the key turning somewhere beyond the walls echoed through her mind long after the house had fallen silent. She had expected screams, footsteps, perhaps another mysterious bang from below.
Instead, there had been nothing.
By morning, she almost convinced herself she had exaggerated everything.
Almost.
The house seemed determined to erase every trace of fear with daylight.
The kitchen was alive with the smell of fresh croissants and coffee.
Claire hummed softly while arranging flowers in a crystal vase.
Daniel stood at the counter preparing lunches for the children, carefully cutting sandwiches into neat triangles.
“You look tired,” Claire observed as Amara entered.
“I didn’t sleep very well.”
Claire smiled sympathetically.
“It takes time to adjust.”
“The countryside is much quieter than the city.”
Amara nodded.
“I suppose so.”
Daniel glanced up.
“If you’d like, you can sleep in tomorrow. Claire and I can take the children to school.”
His kindness caught her off guard.
“Thank you.”
“There is no rush,” he replied warmly.
Again, they seemed like the perfect family.
So why did her instincts refuse to trust them?
⸻
After breakfast, Claire suggested they clean the upstairs rooms together.
“It’ll help you become familiar with the house.”
The mansion seemed even larger during the day.
Each corridor held antique furniture, family portraits and clocks that chimed at different times, creating an almost haunting rhythm throughout the house.
One portrait caught Amara’s attention.
It showed Daniel as a teenager standing beside an older man she assumed was his father.
Behind them stood the mansion.
It looked exactly the same.
Nothing had changed.
Not even the ivy climbing the stone walls.
“This house has been in Daniel’s family for generations,” Claire said, noticing her interest.
“His grandfather built it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It can be…”
Claire paused.
“…a lonely place.”
The words lingered in the air.
For the first time, Claire didn’t smile after speaking.
⸻
That afternoon, while the children played outside, Amara wandered through the gardens.
The rain had finally stopped.
Everything smelled of damp earth and roses.
She followed a narrow stone path that curved behind the greenhouse.
There, hidden beneath overgrown ivy, stood a tiny stone cottage.
It looked abandoned.
One of its windows was boarded shut.
The roof sagged under years of neglect.
She stepped closer.
The front door was secured with a heavy chain and a rusted padlock.
Strange.
If no one used it anymore, why keep it locked?
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Amara jumped.
The groundskeeper stood a few metres away, holding pruning shears.
He was an older man with weathered hands and kind eyes.
“I didn’t hear you.”
He smiled politely.
“People rarely do.”
She laughed nervously.
“What’s this building?”
The man’s smile faded.
“The old caretaker’s cottage.”
“No one lives there?”
“Not anymore.”
He bent down to trim a rose bush.
“My advice?”
“Don’t become too curious.”
Before Amara could ask another question, he walked away.
⸻
That evening, Oliver accidentally knocked a glass of juice onto the dining table.
The room fell silent.
Amara instinctively looked at Daniel.
She expected anger.
Instead, he calmly handed Oliver a cloth.
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
Oliver cleaned the spill, clearly relieved.
Amara watched carefully.
Nothing about Daniel’s reaction matched the image she had begun building in her mind.
Could she have been wrong about him?
⸻
Later, after everyone had gone upstairs, Amara returned to the library.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the photograph.
This time, she searched more carefully.
Book after book.
Shelf after shelf.
Nearly an hour passed before she noticed something unusual.
One section of books was newer than the rest.
Their leather bindings looked untouched.
When she pulled one forward, it refused to move.
She tugged harder.
A soft click echoed through the room.
Her heart skipped.
Slowly, an entire section of the bookshelf shifted outward just enough to reveal a narrow gap behind it.
A hidden compartment.
Inside lay a small wooden box covered in dust.
Her hands trembled as she lifted it out.
The brass latch wasn’t locked.
She opened it.
Inside was a delicate silver necklace.
A passport.
And several handwritten letters tied together with a faded blue ribbon.
The passport belonged to a young woman named Sophia Markovic.
Nationality: Serbian.
Occupation: Au Pair.
Amara’s pulse quickened.
She carefully unfolded the first letter.
*“Dear Mum,
The family is wonderful. The children already feel like my little brother and sister. I think I’ve finally found where I belong…”*
She smiled despite herself.
The letter sounded hopeful.
Normal.
Nothing sinister.
She reached for the second letter.
Before she could unfold it, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Someone was approaching the library.
Quickly, she returned everything to the box and slid it back into the compartment.
The bookshelf clicked shut just as the doorknob turned.
Claire stood in the doorway.
She looked surprised.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I couldn’t find a book.”
Claire glanced toward the bookshelf.
For the briefest moment, something unreadable crossed her face.
Then she smiled.
“If you’re looking for novels, the modern section is downstairs.”
She turned off the library light.
“Come on.”
“It’s late.”
As they walked down the hallway together, Amara couldn’t shake the feeling that Claire knew exactly what she had been doing.
⸻
Just before midnight, unable to sleep, Amara looked out of her bedroom window.
The moon cast pale light over the gardens.
Near the abandoned cottage, a figure stood perfectly still.
Not moving.
Not walking.
Simply watching the house.
Amara squinted.
The figure slowly raised one arm.
Then pointed toward the forest.
Before she could react, the lights in the entire mansion went out.
Darkness swallowed everything.
And from somewhere deep below the house…
A woman screamed.
- Writer
