The sky turned a deep shade of violet as we stood at the edge of the desolate suburb. The once-bustling streets were now eerily silent, with cracked pavement, overgrown lawns, and abandoned homes lining the road like forgotten relics of a bygone era. The wind whistled through broken windows, and the air carried the scent of decay.
We had no choice but to enter. Our car had broken down miles back, and there was nowhere else to go. The sun had already begun to set, casting long shadows that danced across the empty buildings. My friends, Clara and Jake, walked ahead, their voices hushed, as if afraid to disturb the stillness.
“Do you think anyone still lives here?” Clara asked, her voice trembling.
Jake shook his head, glancing nervously at the darkened houses. “I doubt it. This place has been abandoned for years.”
But as we moved deeper into the suburb, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone. I heard faint whispers carried on the wind, but whenever I turned to look, there was nothing—just the empty streets and the occasional rustle of leaves.
We reached the town square, where a crumbling fountain stood as the centerpiece. The water had long since dried up, and graffiti covered the once-beautiful stone. The silence felt oppressive, as if the town itself was watching us, waiting.
“We should find a place to stay for the night,” Jake suggested, eyeing a nearby house. It looked no different from the others—boarded windows, peeling paint, and a door hanging loosely on its hinges.
Reluctantly, we agreed. The sun was nearly gone, and the thought of wandering the streets in the dark was even more terrifying than staying in one of the abandoned homes.
Inside, the house was cold and musty, the air thick with dust. We made our way to the living room, where a moth-eaten couch sat facing a shattered TV. Clara sat down, her hands shaking. “This place gives me the creeps.”
I nodded in agreement. Something about the suburb felt wrong—like we had stumbled into a forgotten corner of the world that we were never meant to see.
As night fell, the whispers grew louder. They seemed to come from everywhere at once, echoing through the walls and the streets outside. I tried to convince myself it was just the wind, but deep down, I knew better. We were being watched.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from upstairs. We froze, our eyes wide with fear. Jake grabbed a flashlight and motioned for us to follow him. With trembling hands, I clutched Clara’s arm, and we ascended the creaking staircase.
At the top, the air was colder, the whispers now a soft murmur in the background. We approached the room where the noise had come from. Jake opened the door slowly, the flashlight beam slicing through the darkness.
The room was empty.
But on the wall, scrawled in a childlike hand, was a single word: “Leave.”
My heart raced as the whispers turned into a deafening roar, the house itself seeming to vibrate with energy. We didn’t need any further warning.
We ran.
Out of the house, through the streets, past the crumbling buildings and forgotten memories. The suburb seemed to close in on us, the darkness swallowing everything in its path.
By the time we reached the edge of town, the whispers had faded, replaced by the sound of our own ragged breathing. We collapsed on the side of the road, the distant lights of civilization twinkling far ahead.
“I don’t ever want to go back there,” Clara whispered, her voice shaking.
None of us disagreed. We had escaped the suburb, but the memories—and the shadows—would haunt us forever.