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The Voice in the Vent Shaina Tranquilino October 3, 2024

Mardi had always loved the quiet of her apartment. Nestled on the top floor of an old, crumbling building, it offered the kind of solitude that she, an introvert by nature, craved. The thin walls and occasional creaks from her elderly neighbours were comforting reminders of life around her. Until, one night, something changed.

It started as a whisper—so faint, she thought it was her imagination. Lying in bed, with the soft glow of her phone casting eerie shadows on the walls, she heard it: a low, almost imperceptible murmur floating through the air vent above her bed.

At first, Mardi assumed it was Mr. Simmons from the apartment next door. The man often mumbled to himself when he couldn’t sleep, his gravelly voice barely a disturbance. But this murmur was different—sharper, cold. She strained her ears, hoping to catch a clearer phrase, but the sound vanished as quickly as it came.

By the next morning, the voice was forgotten, chalked up to the usual oddities of living in an old building. But the following night, it returned.

Mardi lay awake, staring at the darkened ceiling. The whisper crawled through the vent again, this time clearer, more deliberate. It was no longer a mumble; it was a string of words, garbled and strange, as though spoken through clenched teeth.

"Help me..."

Her heart skipped a beat. She sat up, the room suddenly much colder than it should have been. Maybe one of her neighbours really was in trouble. She pressed her ear to the vent.

"He’s coming... don’t listen..."

The voice was female—shaky and distant, as though it came from some far-off place, but the air vent was the only possible source. She held her breath, waiting for more, but the voice cut off abruptly, leaving only silence.

The next morning, she knocked on Mr. Simmons' door, feeling foolish but desperate for answers. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing the frail, white-haired man.

"Good morning, Mr. Simmons," Mardi began, keeping her voice steady. "Have you heard... anything strange? From your vent, I mean."

He blinked at her, his rheumy eyes narrowing in confusion. "Strange? Like what?"

"Voices. At night. It sounds like someone’s... trapped."

Mr. Simmons shook his head, looking more puzzled than concerned. "I haven’t heard a thing, dear. Not in years. My hearing’s not what it used to be."

Mardi forced a smile and thanked him, but unease crept into her bones. If he wasn’t hearing it, who else could it be? Was it just in her head?

That night, she lay in bed again, eyes wide open, heart pounding. Hours passed in silence. She was beginning to think she really was losing it when the voice returned, louder this time.

"Get out..."

Mardi jolted upright. The voice was urgent, panicked, and much closer than before.

"He’s here... He’s watching..."

Mardi’s breath caught in her throat. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. Her eyes darted to the vent, now nothing more than a square of black metal on the ceiling, but it suddenly felt like something was staring back through it.

Before she could react, a second voice emerged—a deeper, guttural one that sent icy chills down her spine.

"Too late."

The words slithered through the vent like a hiss, dripping with malice. Mardi froze, every muscle in her body tense, as if her very survival depended on staying still. She waited, trembling, praying that whatever this was would stop.

But the whispers continued. The voices overlapped, one pleading, the other mocking, their tones battling for dominance in her mind.

"Get out!" the woman cried again.

"She’s ours now," the deeper voice growled.

The room plunged into darkness as the light flickered and went out. A rush of cold air blasted from the vent, carrying with it a foul, decayed smell. Mardi scrambled out of bed, her fingers fumbling for her phone, but it slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.

The sound of something heavy shifting in the walls echoed through the room. And then... a scraping noise. Slow, deliberate, as though nails were dragging along the metal ducts, moving closer, inch by inch.

Mardi’s eyes locked onto the vent. Something was crawling through it.

The grating noise grew louder, reverberating through the apartment. She backed away, her legs trembling beneath her, as a shadow began to take shape behind the slats of the vent. Something with long, bony fingers was pulling itself closer.

Without thinking, she bolted for the door, yanking it open and stumbling into the hallway. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she ran down the stairwell, not stopping until she was out on the street, panting, eyes wide with terror.

The next day, Mardi didn’t return to the apartment. She couldn’t. She broke her lease and moved out within a week, refusing to tell anyone the real reason why.

A month later, another tenant moved in. A young woman, eager to take advantage of the rent-controlled unit. She found it odd how quickly the previous tenant had left, but figured it was just city life.

That night, as she lay in bed, her eyes fluttering shut, a faint whisper drifted through the vent above her head.

"He’s coming..."

But this time, no one was there to warn her.

Whispering in the Dark Shaina Tranquilino October 7, 2024

The fire crackled, sending sparks into the cold night air. Four friends—Liam, Ava, Noah, and Zoe—huddled around the campfire, their faces glowing in the flickering light. They had decided on a weekend camping trip to escape the pressures of work and city life, to reconnect with each other, and to enjoy the wilderness. The dense forest around them stretched into an abyss of darkness, a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire.

“Anyone else hear that?” Ava asked, her voice tinged with unease.

Liam glanced at her and shook his head. “You’re just spooking yourself out. It’s nothing.”

But Ava was certain she’d heard something—faint whispers, just beyond the reach of the firelight. They had started after the sun had dipped below the horizon, so soft and elusive she couldn’t make out the words. But they were there, threading through the stillness of the night.

“Could be the wind,” Noah suggested, though he, too, seemed a little on edge. The firelight danced in his eyes, making the shadows behind him appear to shift and twist.

Zoe shifted nervously. “It doesn’t sound like the wind.”

The whispers came again, faint and chilling, as if carried on the breeze. This time, they all heard it. The sound was disembodied, yet felt too close, like someone was standing just behind them, speaking softly, deliberately.

Liam stood up abruptly, scanning the tree line. “Who’s out there?” he called, his voice cutting through the whispers. The forest offered no reply, only an oppressive silence that swallowed his words.

“This isn’t funny,” Ava muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. Her breath fogged in the chilly night air, but the whispers were clearer now—almost too clear. They seemed to come from all directions at once, as if the forest itself was alive, watching them.

“We should get inside the tent,” Zoe suggested, her voice trembling. “Maybe it’s just animals or something.”

Liam scoffed, trying to keep the mood light. “Yeah, talking animals. Probably just locals messing with us.”

But as they packed up to head into the tent, the whispers grew louder, more distinct. Now, they sounded like murmured conversations, but the words were impossible to comprehend. One voice stood out from the others, sharp and urgent, as if calling someone’s name. Liam turned to the others, his face pale.

"Did you guys hear that?" he whispered. "It... it sounded like my name."

No one answered. Zoe’s eyes were wide, and Noah’s hands shook as he packed up the last of the supplies. The fire flickered low, casting long, eerie shadows across the campsite.

And then the voice came again, closer this time. Liam.

Everyone froze.

“Liam, it’s just a trick,” Ava said quickly. “Someone’s out there messing with us.”

But Liam wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on the dark edge of the woods, his face a mask of confusion. “It’s calling me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It knows my name.”

Without warning, he took a step toward the darkness.

“Liam, wait!” Zoe grabbed his arm, but he shook her off, stumbling toward the trees, his gaze locked on something none of them could see.

“Liam!” Ava screamed, but he was already gone, disappearing into the blackness of the forest, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the whispers.

Noah grabbed a flashlight and bolted after him, shouting Liam’s name into the void. Ava and Zoe followed, panic driving them forward. But as they entered the forest, the voices surrounded them, more intense now, whispering directly in their ears, almost intimate.

"Turn back."

"Leave."

"He’s ours now."

The whispers slithered into their minds, seeping through every thought, every rational explanation. Fear gnawed at them, but they couldn’t stop. Liam’s figure darted between the trees ahead, moving deeper into the thick underbrush.

“Liam, stop!” Noah yelled. His voice seemed to vanish, swallowed by the whispers. The flashlight beam wavered, cutting through the mist that had begun to creep up from the ground. Shadows loomed ahead, their shapes shifting unnaturally, blending with the trees.

Liam disappeared from sight.

“Where did he go?” Ava gasped, her breath coming in short bursts. The forest felt like it was closing in around them, the trees twisting, forming a labyrinth of branches and darkness. The voices grew louder, more urgent.

“He’s not far,” Noah panted. “We’ll find him. We have to.”

But as they pushed deeper into the woods, something changed. The ground seemed to ripple beneath their feet, the air thick with the whispers, now like a chorus of malevolent beings. They weren’t alone in the woods.

Ava screamed as something brushed past her leg, cold and wet, like a hand. She stumbled, grabbing Zoe’s arm. “We need to go back,” she cried. “We can’t stay here.”

Suddenly, the flashlight flickered and went out, plunging them into complete darkness. The whispers surged, drowning out their frantic breathing, filling the silence with words they couldn’t understand, but the intent was clear.

They weren’t welcome.

In the pitch black, a new sound emerged—a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the earth. Zoe whimpered, clutching Ava’s arm tightly, her nails digging into her skin. Noah frantically tried to turn the flashlight back on, but it was useless. The growling grew louder, circling them, and they could feel something in the darkness, something hungry.

Then, from behind them, Liam’s voice rang out, but it was wrong—warped and distorted.

“Help me…”

It was a plea, but it wasn’t Liam.

“We have to run,” Ava whispered, terror making her voice tremble. “Now.”

They didn’t need convincing. Together, they bolted through the forest, the voices and growls chasing after them. The trees seemed to close in, the air thick with something suffocating. Ava could feel it—something was right behind her, its breath hot on the back of her neck.

They broke through the tree line and back into the campsite. The fire was nearly out, a few glowing embers all that remained. Gasping for breath, they huddled together, waiting, listening.

The whispers stopped.

But Liam never came back.

And in the dead of night, as the fire died completely, they knew they weren’t alone.