Whispers in the Portraits

As we entered the old house, the wooden floor beneath us screeched. It was as if its heart got hurt with the sight of two visitors, or maybe the screech was the one of joy- the joy of having visitors, visitors who the house could use for its unholy rituals that were the word of the town already. But I was firm that all these things only existed in movies, dramas, and dreams—dreams just like the one I had months ago.

Now, as we walked further inside, we saw a sofa lying there, which felt like it was untouched by any living species for years. Being tired, soaked, and afraid, we sat together on that old, worn sofa. Its fabric was held by weak, tiny threads that hinted that we might break under the slightest pressure applied.

The sofa was the only piece of furniture in the dimly lit hallway, and despite its appalling appearance, it was more comfortable than the surrounding emptiness and soundlessness. The air around was covered in thick, musky odor of wood and a faint, lingering feeling of something that we couldn't comprehend; something sinister.

The thunder outside again began to rumble as if the gods of peace and war were sparring in the air. Slowly, slowly, the thunder started to feel closer, closer than it should have been. It almost felt like even the atmosphere was crying after sensing something sinister, something that the naked eye couldn't witness in its current state.

The flicker of the storm's light illuminated the hallway for short intervals, casting long, grotesque shadows all over the hall. Every creak, every slightest movement in the wooden floor groaned like the house was alive, or as if it was being controlled by something else that was alive.

We were used to the unsettling voices in our own house, so we didn't bother much. It was until the groans became more rhythmic, as if the house was trying to communicate with us in its own language.

I handed her my bottle of water, our fingers brushed for a brief moment. I couldn't notice the slight tremble in her fingers, but it wasn't hard for her to notice the way my hands were shaking. My usual, calm attitude was replaced by nervous energy that was even hard for me to hide. My eyes were fixed on the hallway between the overcast shadows as if I was waiting for something to appear from the darkness.

She took the water bottle from me. She steadied her breath and brought it to her lips. The cold water slid down her throat, offering a brief relief from the heavy heat that clung to her skin. The water was refreshing, but not enough to calm the growing sense of fear that had made its home in her chest. She didn't know what it was; the storm, the house, the shadows or something else. She couldn't explain it, but something was wrong.

She lowered the bottle, her fingers still trembling as she kept the bottle aside on the table behind us. She glanced towards me, and our gaze met for the first time since we had entered the house. My gaze was distant, and silent, which did the absolute opposite of reassuring her. My gaze left the impression on her that I was already lost somewhere deep in my thoughts. I tried to smile, but it was forced. The comfort she usually found in my presence was now infected by the unspoken tension between us. I didn't want to acknowledge it, but we both felt it- the unseen weight of something that didn't belong there.

"Are you okay?" She whispered in my ears. He nodded quickly, a bit too quickly as though I was already prepared for the question to come. With a slight tremble in my voice, I replied: " Yeah, jjust… just a little bit tired. You?"

My lovely wife hesitated; she didn't know how to put her feelings into words, and so she lied. "Im fine!" Even though she was not fine at all. She wasn't sure what was worse: the enticing silence that filled the atmosphere around us, or the slight noises that came out of nowhere every few seconds. The house was groaning, the floor creaking, and thunder battering the windows outside.

My hand brushed against her arm. She felt my warm touch, but it did little to comfort her. "We'll get through this." I finally got hold of my voice and returned to my deep voice, which used to make her calm. I tried to calm her, but even these words felt fake.

My wife now shifted her gaze towards the end of the hallway uncomfortably, her eyes scanning the long dark corridor. It was quiet, almost too quiet to be true now, and then she heard it, a faint humming that was barely audible over the raging storm. At first she thought it was the wind but as the sound lingered in the air more than usual, she realized it was something else entirely. The sound was coming from the far end of the hallway, just out of sight.

The melody was like a lullaby, soothing, relaxing, as if it was extracting all the pain from her body, but suddenly it twisted into something darker, something uneasy. She turned towards me slowly, her eyes widened. "Did you hear that!?" she asked almost as if she was somewhat excited by the fact that something new had happened.

I nodded in denial, hinting that she was having some hallucinations cause I was 200% sure that all I heard was the rustling of leaves outside and the cold, fat drops of rain slamming the leaves and the windows.

The humming kept on growing, louder and louder, and then it stopped. The house once again falling into complete silence, and her breath got caught in her throat.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched between us, she finally broke it. With her low voice , she exclaimed in a whisper "We should check the rest of the house. Maybe we can find some answers."

I was still unsure of what we were dealing with so I hesitated a bit. And at the same time, I also didn't want to be left alone with just my thoughts, so I nodded. We both then stood up from the sofa simultaneously.

As we stood up, we felt as the sofa had its own gravitational pull, stronger than the sun that was forcing us to keep sitting there. It seemed that the sofa didnt want us to leave it. But with the little force we had left in us, we broke its attraction and got up.

We then cautiously began our journey down the dimly lit hallway, with long, sharp shadows stretched across the walls. The house grew even quieter, as though it were listening to our every step. Every creak seemed amplified due to the stillness. Each step was a loud, unsettling reminder that we weren't alone.

The paintings on the wall caught my wife's attention first. They were large, framed portraits, depicting figures that seemed frozen in time. At first, the pictures seemed pretty ordinary. But when she focused on one of the pictures, she noticed that something was wrong with the portraits. The figures, though human, had no faces. The paint where their features should have been had been skillfully smudged, leaving behind smooth masks of flesh with no human features visible.

I was staring at another picture, almost too lost in the moment. The picture my eyes had locked horns with was of 2 couples, with each couple holding hands of their respective partners. They were all wearing long fancy gowns that left a sense of fear in my heart just by looking at them. I blinked my eyes rapidly to clear them of any doubt. I could not believe what I was seeing.

Even though, just like all the other pictures in the hallway, the facial features were missing, except for the eyes. The centre of attention of the whole portrait was their horrid eyes. Just by examining their statures and eyes, I became completely sure that these images could not be of anyone other than the same friends who had visited my house months ago.

I stood there in shock, almost as if the floor beneath me had slipped away. My mind rushed to all those events, and suddenly dreadful flashback of that horrible event that I had classified as a dream started to reappear in front of my eyes as if all that was happening right in front of my eyes. My heart was filled with dread, a feeling that I knew what was happening, but there was nothing I could do.

Time seemed to be stopped at that moment, and all I could remember was how hard my gaze was locked with those terrifying eyes in the portrait. I stood there staring at it for what felt like an eternity. This was until a whisper wind slipped through a crack in the window right behind me.

The breeze moved swiftly like it was being carried by someone, and it was only meant for me. It hit the back of my neck, and I felt the hair on my neck raise in shock.

This cold ghostly breath returned me back to reality. My vision blurred for a second and then I got aware of what was happening around me. My first instinct was to look for my wife

I turned around but was met by her lingering fragrance that had always enticed me. Only her fragrance, only her essence was left there, and she was not there. How could she not be there, she was right beside me a minute ago. Was it a minute? or was I standing there for hours? No one knows.

I got worried quickly, as the only thing that worried me more than my crops was the absence of my beloved. I called her, screamed her name, screamed so hard that I could hear her name being echoed in my voice from every corner of that damned house.

All in vain. My echoes were followed by complete unsettling silence, that caused shivers to overcome my body. My mind went numb, her memories captivated my eyes, her voice pulled the strings in my ears. When I should have been thinking of finding her, I kept thinking about her.