The Whistler In The Night

Chapter 1

I jolted awake, my heart racing, my chest heaving as if I'd just sprinted a mile. The nightmare. Again. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, trying to steady my breathing. My room was dark and quiet, but the terror from the dream still clung to me. I glanced at my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, showing 2:00 a.m..

Before I could do anything, the screen flickered and died. Just like that. I frowned, pressing the power button repeatedly, but nothing happened. It was completely dead.

"Great," I muttered under my breath, tossing the phone aside. I didn't need this right now. All I wanted was to forget that nightmare and get some sleep. I laid my head back down on the pillow, but sleep didn't come. My mind was fixated on him—the tall man in black, his pale face, the bloody knife, the way he had smiled at me like he knew something I didn't.

What did he want from me? Why did he keep coming back, invading my dreams like some twisted shadow? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the thought away, but my body was tense, refusing to relax.

Five minutes passed, maybe more. Then I heard it—soft, eerie sounds coming from the room down the hall. My sister's room.

Kayla.

I sat up, listening carefully. It was a low murmur, followed by a strange creaking noise, like something heavy being dragged across the floor. My gut twisted with unease. Kayla didn't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural—she was always the rational one, the skeptic. But that sound... it wasn't normal.

I slipped out of bed, my feet barely making a sound on the cold floor as I walked toward her room. My pulse quickened with every step. I reached her door and slowly pushed it open.

The sight inside froze me in place.

Kayla was standing in front of her mirror, staring at her own reflection. But it wasn't just that. She was smiling—the same eerie, twisted smile that the man in my nightmares had. It was unnatural, too wide, too knowing.

Then, without a word, she raised her hand, reaching toward the mirror. I watched, horrified, as her feet slowly lifted off the ground, her body levitating about ten centimeters into the air.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move. My sister—who mocked anything paranormal—was floating in front of me, her hand still outstretched, her eyes locked on the reflection in the mirror like she was in some kind of trance.

This wasn't possible.

Suddenly, she turned her head toward the door, her eyes meeting mine.

I slammed the door shut and stumbled back to my bedroom, my heart racing in my chest. I crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin, willing myself to forget what I had just seen. I shut my eyes tightly, desperate for sleep to take me. But all I could think about was Kayla. And that man. The smile.

What the fuck was happening?