Whispers in the Dark

I always hated staying at my grandparents' house. It was old, dusty, and full of creepy noises. But this summer, I had no choice. My parents were going through a divorce and they needed some time alone. So they sent me off to the countryside, where my grandparents lived in a secluded farmhouse.

The first night was uneventful. I slept in the guest room, which had a window overlooking the cornfield. The only sound I heard was the wind rustling the crops. I felt a bit lonely, but I tried to make the best of it. I told myself that it was only for a few weeks, and then I would be back home with my friends.

The second night was different. I woke up around midnight, feeling thirsty. I got out of bed and walked to the hallway, where there was a pitcher of water and a glass. As I poured myself a drink, I heard a faint whisper coming from the window.

"Hello..."

I froze. Who was that? I looked outside, but I couldn't see anyone. The moonlight cast a pale glow over the field, but it was empty.

"Hello...is anyone there?"

The voice sounded like a child's, but it was distorted and raspy. It gave me chills.

I dropped the glass and ran back to my room. I slammed the door behind me and locked it. I jumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. I tried to calm myself down, telling myself that it was just my imagination. Maybe it was a prank call from some kids in the village. Maybe it was an animal making weird noises.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't. There was something out there, something that wanted me.

The next morning, I told my grandparents what happened. They looked at me with concern and exchanged glances.

"Did you say you heard a whisper?" my grandfather asked.

"Yes, why? What is it?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"It's nothing, son. Just an old legend."

"What legend?"

He hesitated for a moment, then said:

"They say that this land is haunted by the spirits of the children who died here during the war. They were hiding in the cornfield when the enemy planes came and bombed them. They never found their bodies, only their blood and bones scattered among the crops. They say that sometimes, on moonless nights, you can hear them whispering in the dark, calling for help."

I felt a cold sweat on my forehead.

"That's horrible," I said.

"It is," he agreed. "But don't worry, they can't hurt you. They're just lost souls, looking for peace."

He smiled and patted my shoulder.

"Now come on, let's have some breakfast. Grandma made your favorite pancakes."

I nodded and followed him to the kitchen. But I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that gripped me.

That night, I decided to stay awake and watch TV in my room. I didn't want to hear any more whispers in the dark. I turned on the volume and flipped through the channels, hoping to find something interesting.

But as I was watching a comedy show, I heard it again.

"Hello..."

It was louder this time, and closer.

I muted the TV and listened carefully.

"Hello...can you hear me?"

It was coming from under my bed.

I felt a surge of panic and jumped out of bed. I grabbed a flashlight and pointed it at the floor.

There was nothing there.

But then I heard another whisper, from behind me.

"Hello...I'm here..."

I turned around and saw a pair of glowing eyes staring at me from the closet.

I screamed and ran out of the room. I didn't stop until I reached my grandparents' bedroom. I banged on their door and shouted for help.

They opened it and saw me trembling and pale.

"What's wrong?" my grandmother asked.

"There's something in my room!" I cried. "Something in the closet!"

They looked at each other with alarm and grabbed their coats and keys.

"Come on," my grandfather said. "We're getting out of here."

We ran to their car and drove away as fast as we could. As we left the farmhouse behind us, I looked back at my window.

And I saw a shadowy figure standing there, waving at me.