Voices Beneath the Floor

I moved into this house for peace.

What I found was a voice — whispering beneath the floorboards.



At first, I thought it was in my head.

Sleep-deprived illusions, the old wood creaking.

But the voice grew louder. It called my name.

It told me things only I should know.

It begged. It threatened. It wept.



And every time I listened... I changed.



As days blur into nights and reality slips through the cracks, I no longer know if I’m the only one living here. Or if the house is alive — feeding on me, molding me, watching me.



This is not just a haunting.

This is a descent — into the darkest parts of a mind, and a house that refuses to let go.



You might hear them too, once you start reading.

But be warned…



The deeper you listen, the louder they become.