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"The Low Voice"

A Strange Presence

By Isra SaleemPublished about a month ago 3 min read
"The Low Voice"
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash

I had always been fascinated by the abandoned house on the hill. Rumors swirled that it was haunted, that strange noises could be heard coming from within its walls. But I didn't believe it. I was a skeptic, a seeker of truth and reason.

So, one dark and stormy night, I decided to investigate. I approached the house, my heart racing with anticipation. The wind howled through the trees, causing the old wooden sign to creak and groan. "Welcome to Willowdale," it read, the letters barely visible in the fading light.

I pushed open the creaking front door and stepped inside. The air was thick with dust and the stench of decay. I fumbled for my flashlight and turned it on, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

As I explored the house, I began to feel a presence around me. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but then I heard it. A low voice, whispering in my ear.

"Get out while you still can."

I spun around, but there was no one there. The voice seemed to come from all around me, echoing off the walls.

"Who's there?" I called out, my voice shaking slightly.

There was no response. Just the continued whispering, the low voice urging me to leave.

I tried to ignore it, to continue my exploration of the house. But the voice grew louder, more insistent. It was like a constant hum in the background, wearing me down.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and died. I was plunged into darkness, the only sound the low voice, now a menacing growl.

"Get out while you still can."

I turned to run, but my feet felt heavy, as if rooted to the spot. The voice laughed, a cold, mirthless sound.

And then, the darkness was complete. The voice stopped, the silence deafening.

I stumbled forward, desperate to escape. But as I reached the front door, I realized it was locked. I was trapped.

The low voice spoke once more, its final words echoing in my mind.

"You should have listened."

And then, the darkness consumed me.

When the police found me, I was curled up in a ball, my mind shattered by the horrors I had experienced. I never spoke of that night again, but the low voice stayed with me, a constant reminder of the terror that lurked in the shadows of Willowdale.

I was taken away from the house, away from the low voice that had haunted me. But I knew it would always be with me, echoing in my mind.

Years went by, and I tried to rebuild my life. But the memory of that night never faded. I would hear the low voice in my dreams, urging me to "get out while you still can." And sometimes, when I was alone, I would swear I heard it whispering in my ear. I knew I had to confront it, to face the horrors of that night once and for all. So, I made the decision to return to Willowdale, to the house where it all began.

As I stood in the entrance hall of Willowdale, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. The low voice was silent, and for the first time in years, I felt free from its grasp. I knew then that I had finally found the courage to face my fears, and that I would never be haunted by the horrors of that night again. I turned to leave, and as I did, I heard a faint whisper in my ear. "You're welcome." It was the low voice, but this time, it was a voice of gratitude, not terror.

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About the Creator

Isra Saleem

Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.

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    Isra SaleemWritten by Isra Saleem

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