Whispers in the Veil

Arthur had always thought of silence as something peaceful, an escape from the noise of the world, a rare moment where he could breathe without the weight of other people pressing in on him. But now, standing in the middle of his dimly lit room, he realized how wrong he had been.

This silence was suffocating.

It crawled into his ears, slithered down his spine, settled into his lungs like thick smoke. He could hear his own heartbeat, a slow, heavy thump against his ribs, but beneath it just beneath it something else lurked. A whisper too faint to catch yet too persistent to ignore.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Get a grip," he muttered. "You're acting like one of those horror movie idiots who run straight into the basement when the lights go out."

His own voice sounded off. Hollow. Like it didn't belong to him.

Then came the knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps against the window.

Arthur froze. His room was on the second floor.

His body refused to turn, every instinct screaming at him to stay still. But he couldn't. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched, and against his better judgment, he forced himself to look.

The window was empty.

Nothing but the endless stretch of night beyond the glass.

A shaky exhale left his lips, his mind scrambling for logic. The wind. A branch. Something normal. It had to be

Tap. Tap. Tap.

This time, it came from the closet.

A bolt of ice shot through his veins. The door was slightly ajar, the sliver of darkness beyond it impossibly deep. Arthur felt it before he saw it, the presence, heavy and watching.

He swallowed hard, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Alright, let's skip the clichés, yeah?" he said to the darkness. "If you're some boogeyman, at least have the decency to show yourself instead of playing peekaboo."

Silence.

Then

Creeeeak.

The closet door drifted open just an inch more.

Arthur's skin prickled. He clenched his fists, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs like a war drum. The air around him felt thick, charged, like the moment before a storm.

And then, from the depths of the closet, the whisper returned clear this time, crawling over his skin like a thousand unseen fingers.

"I see you."

A shudder tore through him, but he refused to back away. Fear was familiar. He had lived with it his entire life. But something deeper than fear stirred in him now—something older, something that belonged to whatever part of him had been waiting, watching, just as much as this presence had.

His breath steadied, his fingers unclenched.

"Yeah?" His voice was quieter now, but steady. "Well, I see you too."

The whisper faltered. The air shifted.

And then, just like that, the presence was gone.

The room returned to normal... if normal even existed anymore. Arthur stood there for a long moment before finally moving, crossing the room in two long strides and shoving the closet door shut with enough force to rattle the hinges.

He didn't sleep that night.

But he didn't feel alone, either