Whispers of the Soul

Horror

Beneath the Floorboards

In an old, creaking house where the shadows loom,
A tale weaves its whispers, entwined with the gloom.
The floorboards are weary, worn thin by the years,
Yet beneath them, a stirrings awaken my fears.

At night when the world drapes itself in the dark,
A sound breaks the silence, a faint, echoing spark.
A scratching, a tapping, a soft, muffled plea,
From deep in the depths, it calls out to me.

I tiptoe with caution, my heart in a race,
Drawn to the whispers that fill this bleak space.
With each cautious step, the noises grow near,
A symphony haunting, yet oddly sincere.

What lies beneath, in the chill of the night?
A phantom, a spirit, or something less bright?
A shiver crawls up, like fingers on skin,
As I peer at the floor, where the shadows begin.

The wood seems to tremble, it sighs with despair,
What creature is trapped in the darkness down there?
A voice in my mind whispers softly, "Stay clear,
For whatever is waiting might not want you here."

I grasp at the edge of the rickety boards,
With dread pooling thick, like a swarm of dark hordes.
But curiosity tugs, like a child in a dream,
What truth lurks beneath, hidden from the gleam?

A sudden loud crash! The boards crack and bend,
And out from the shadows, something does send
A wail that rings hollow, a cry full of dread,
As the floorboards splinter, I wish I were dead.

What crawls from the depths? What seeks to break free?
A thing lost to time, a forgotten decree.
In the depths of my terror, I turn to escape,
But the whispers grow louder, the shadows reshape.

So I run from the house, never looking behind,
Leaving echoes and secrets, a story unkind.
And though I am gone, those whispers remain,
A haunting reminder of the fear and the pain.

For beneath those old floorboards, where shadows once roamed,
Something waits in the silence, forever alone.
And the house keeps its secrets, as night draws its veil,
In a place where the whispers weave deep in the pale.