The last whisper
Matt and Jess stopped dead in their tracks, the whisper hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The door of the house was wide open now, inviting them in with an eerie calm. The wind had stopped, and the world felt too still.
Jess turned to Matt, her face pale. "We can't go back in there," she whispered. "Whatever it is... it wants us. It's not finished. It never was."
Matt's heart raced. He wanted to turn and run, to get as far away as possible. But something—some force—seemed to keep him rooted in place. The air around them grew thick, charged with the weight of a thousand unspoken threats.
"Do you hear that?" Matt muttered.
The faint laughter echoed again, more sinister now, more real. It came from the house, from inside. But it wasn't just Mary's voice anymore—it was all of them. The voices of those who had been trapped, who had never truly escaped.
Jess squeezed his hand, her grip desperate. "We need to leave. Now."
But Matt couldn't move. He looked back at the house, the place where it had all started, where they had thought they had ended it. But the house was still alive, still watching them. It wasn't done with them, not yet.
"Matt… please," Jess pleaded, tugging at his arm. "We don't belong here."
But he couldn't shake the feeling. The same pull that had drawn them back in the first place, the feeling that something would follow them if they didn't face it.
"I have to end this," Matt said, his voice low. He stepped forward, not knowing if it was courage or madness driving him. Jess hesitated for a second but followed, knowing she couldn't let him go alone.
As they neared the door, it creaked open wider, almost as if it was expecting them. They stepped inside, the cold air of the house wrapping around them like a suffocating blanket.
The floorboards groaned under their feet as they moved deeper into the house. The walls were bare now, the strange symbols gone, but the silence was oppressive. The house felt different, yet the same—like a puzzle piece finally falling into place.
They reached the center of the room, where the mirror had once been. The space felt empty, but still there was a sense of something—something ancient, something dark—lurking just beneath the surface.
Suddenly, the air grew thick, and a shadow appeared in the corner of the room. It was the shape of a person, tall and thin, its face obscured by darkness.
"Mary?" Jess whispered, her voice trembling.
But the figure didn't answer. It reached out, long fingers stretching toward them.
Without thinking, Matt grabbed Jess's hand and pulled her backward. "Run!" he shouted.
They turned and sprinted for the door. But the house seemed to fight them. The walls closed in, the hallway lengthening as if trying to trap them in a nightmare. The air was heavy with whispers—thousands of voices, all speaking at once.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw something: a faint glow, like light breaking through a storm. It was the locket. The locket they had left behind, glowing faintly in the middle of the floor.
The whispers grew louder. "Finish it," they all said in unison. "You've come so far... now finish it."
Jess turned to look at Matt, her face full of fear. "We can't. It's too late."
But Matt nodded, his resolve clear. He stepped forward, back toward the locket, and slowly bent down to pick it up. The moment his fingers touched it, the house shook violently, and the figure in the shadows screamed—a horrible, guttural sound that filled the room.
The house groaned, the very foundation seeming to crack under the pressure. And then everything went still.
For a moment, it felt like the world had paused. The whispers stopped. The shadow vanished. The locket in Matt's hand stopped glowing.
With a final, heavy breath, Matt stood up, holding the locket tightly in his hand.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
They ran, their feet pounding against the floor, as the house seemed to collapse behind them. The door burst open, and they stumbled into the yard. The sun was breaking through the clouds, casting light on the empty house as it stood silently behind them.
They didn't look back.
And for the first time, the house stayed quiet. The darkness, the whispers, the creatures—it was all gone.
They had finished it. The nightmare was over.
Days passed.
No more whispers. No more red skies.
Jess didn't dream of the forest anymore.
She sat alone by the lake one morning, the water calm, sun rising over the trees.
She'd come back to make sure.
Nothing floated. No dolls. No shadows.
Just water and peace.