The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

The Whispering Halls

Davy's hands trembled as he inserted the key into the lock, the satisfying click a promising start to their new life. His wife, Rachel, stood beside him, a bright smile plastered on her face, while their six-year-old daughter, Emily, bounced up and down with excitement. The small town of Willow Creek had welcomed them with open arms, and they couldn't wait to start fresh in their fixer-upper.

As they stepped inside, a faint scent of mildew and old wood wafted through the air. The realtor had warned them about the needed repairs, but Davy was confident in his DIY skills. Rachel had fallen in love with the charming Victorian home, and he couldn't deny her anything. The creaking floorboards beneath their feet seemed to echo the house's history, and Davy felt a shiver run down his spine.

Their first few days were a whirlwind of unpacking and exploring. Emily had claimed the smallest bedroom as her own, plastering the walls with her favourite cartoon characters. Rachel had started tackling the backyard, transforming the overgrown garden into a vibrant oasis. Davy, meanwhile, focused on repairing the leaky faucets and patching up the holes in the walls.

It started on the fourth night, as they settled into their new routine. Davy was walking down the hallway to fetch a glass of water when he noticed something odd – a small symbol etched into the paint. At first, he thought it was just a random mark, but as he drew closer, the intricacies of the design became apparent. It looked like some sort of ancient rune, its meaning lost on him.

"Hey, Rach, come check this out!" he called out, trying to keep his voice light.

Rachel joined him in the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she examined the symbol. "I have no idea what that means," she admitted, "but I think it's kind of cool."

Davy chuckled. "Yeah, maybe it's a good omen or something."

The next day, another symbol appeared on the opposite wall, this one more complex than the first. Emily discovered it, her eyes shining with excitement as she called out to her parents. Davy and Rachel exchanged a hesitant glance, unsure what to make of the strange markings.

As the symbols continued to appear, each one more intricate than the last, Davy began to feel a growing sense of unease. He tried to research the symbols online, but his searches yielded nothing conclusive. It was as if the house itself was communicating with them, revealing secrets in a language they couldn't understand.

One evening, as they sat down to dinner, Davy mentioned the symbols to Rachel. "I think we should try to figure out what they mean," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "It's starting to freak me out."

Rachel put a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'm sure it's just some old owner's quirk. We'll just paint over them, and –"

"No!" Emily interrupted, her voice loud and clear. "We can't paint over them, Mommy. They're trying to tell us something."

Davy and Rachel exchanged a surprised glance. "What do you mean, sweetie?" Rachel asked, her voice gentle.

Emily's face scrunched up in thought. "I don't know, but I feel it. The house is trying to warn us."

As the symbols continued to appear, each one more ominous than the last, Davy began to suspect that Emily was right. He started to notice strange occurrences around town – tools going missing from the local hardware store, food disappearing from the diner's kitchen, and whispers of a long-forgotten tragedy that seemed to haunt the townspeople.

One night, as the symbols seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy, Davy decided to investigate further. He grabbed a flashlight and stepped out into the darkness, determined to uncover the truth behind the strange markings.