A change

The alarm clock buzzed, dragging Tom from the depths of sleep. He blinked at the ceiling, trying to shake off the fog of his dreams. Beside him, Emily stirred, groaning softly before rolling over to silence the persistent beep. Tom watched her, a smile tugging at his lips. They had been married for five years, and every morning he still found himself in awe of her.

But today, something felt off.

Emily swung her legs out of bed and stood, her movements slow and deliberate, almost mechanical. Tom's smile faltered. "Morning, Em," he said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Morning," she replied, her voice flat, devoid of its usual warmth. Tom frowned but shrugged it off, attributing it to a rough night.

He got up and followed her downstairs to the kitchen. Emily was already at the counter, making coffee. The scent of freshly brewed beans filled the room, but there was something unsettling about the way she moved—precise, methodical, unlike her usual bustling self.

Tom shook his head, trying to dispel the unease settling in his stomach. He leaned against the counter, watching her. "Everything okay?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Emily looked up, her eyes locking onto his. For a moment, they seemed almost...empty. Then she blinked, and the familiar sparkle returned. "Just tired," she said, offering him a weak smile.

Tom nodded, accepting her explanation. But as the day wore on, the feeling of unease only grew. Emily's behavior was subtly different, like she was mimicking herself but not quite getting it right. She hummed a tune while doing the dishes, a melody he had never heard before. She moved through the house with a strange grace, her steps too measured, too perfect.

That evening, as they sat down to dinner, Tom couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. Emily barely touched her food, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Em, are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, his concern growing.

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "I'm fine, Tom. Just...tired."

Later that night, Tom woke to the sound of whispers. He turned over, expecting to find Emily beside him, but the bed was empty. The whispers continued, faint and eerie, coming from the hallway. Tom's heart pounded in his chest as he slipped out of bed and crept towards the door.

He found Emily standing in the middle of the hallway, her back to him, whispering to herself. The words were unintelligible, a soft, eerie murmur. "Emily?" he called out, his voice trembling.

She stopped whispering but didn't turn around. For a long moment, she stood there, utterly still. Then, slowly, she turned to face him.

Her eyes were different. They were darker, almost black, and held a cold, vacant stare. Tom took a step back, his breath catching in his throat. "Emily, what's wrong?"

She smiled, but it was a cold, lifeless smile that sent chills down his spine. "Nothing's wrong, Tom. Go back to bed."

He stood there, frozen, unable to move. She took a step towards him, her movements fluid, almost inhuman. "Go back to bed," she repeated, her voice a low, sinister whisper.

Tom backed away, his mind racing. This wasn't his Emily. Something had taken her place. He stumbled back to the bedroom, locking the door behind him. His hands trembled as he tried to steady his breathing. What was happening?

The next few days were a blur of fear and confusion. Emily's behavior grew increasingly erratic. She would disappear for hours, only to return with no explanation. He caught glimpses of her in the corners of his vision, watching him with those cold, empty eyes.

One night, Tom decided to follow her. He waited until she left the house, then slipped out after her, keeping a safe distance. She led him to the edge of the woods behind their house, where she stopped and began whispering again.

Tom hid behind a tree, his heart pounding. He strained to hear her words, but they were too faint. Suddenly, she stopped and turned around, as if sensing his presence. Tom ducked behind the tree, praying she hadn't seen him.

When he finally dared to peek out, she was gone. He hurried back to the house, his mind racing with questions. What was she doing out there? And more importantly, what had happened to his wife?

That night, Tom couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past few days replaying in his mind. He had to find out what was going on. He had to help Emily, whatever the cost.

The next morning, he confronted her. "Emily, I know something's wrong. Please, just tell me what's going on."

She looked at him, her expression cold and distant. "You wouldn't understand," she said, her voice a chilling monotone.

"Try me," he insisted.

She sighed, a sound that seemed too human, too normal. "Fine. But remember, you asked for this."

She led him to the basement, a place they rarely went. As they descended the stairs, the air grew colder, and Tom's unease turned to fear. Emily stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. "This is where it started," she said, her voice echoing in the cold, damp space.

Tom looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The basement was filled with strange symbols, drawn in what looked like chalk. In the center of the room was a small, makeshift altar.

"Emily, what is this?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"This," she said, gesturing to the altar, "is where I found the truth. Where I became...different."

Tom stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was saying. "Different? What do you mean?"

She smiled, that same cold, lifeless smile. "I made a pact, Tom. A pact with something beyond this world. And now, I'm no longer who I used to be."

He took a step back, his mind reeling. "What did you do, Emily?"

"I found power," she said, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light. "Power beyond your understanding. And now, I'm part of something greater."

Tom's fear turned to terror as he realized the truth. His wife was gone, replaced by something dark and malevolent. He turned and fled up the stairs, Emily's laughter echoing behind him.

He ran out of the house, not stopping until he reached the safety of the neighbors' yard. He turned back, staring at the house that had once been his home. The place where his wife had once lived.

But now, it was just a house of horrors, filled with the echoes of a love lost to darkness.