Spectral File 011: The Whisper Behind the Door

Reading time: ~4 minutes · Fiction

On the third night after I moved in, the hallway began to breathe—soft, patient inhales, like the house was learning my name.

At 02:17, the door across from my bedroom clicked once. I told myself it was settling wood. Then the whisper arrived.

“Don’t open it.”

Curiosity convinced me fear was a puzzle. I stepped closer. The air turned cold. The knob was warm, as if a hand had held it for hours.

The latch released with a relieved sigh. The door opened into darkness thick as velvet. My phone light flicked on by itself.

The beam caught a face—my face—inside the dark, eyes open too wide. It smiled without moving its lips.

“Thank you.”

I slammed the door. Silence returned, heavy and satisfied. The next night at 02:17, my own bedroom door clicked once.

Disclaimer: This story is fictional and for entertainment only.