The Voice Behind the Wall

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Twelve-year-old Maddie hated moving.

New town. New school. New house—the worst part.

Old. Dusty. Peeling wallpaper. Creaky floorboards.

Her room? The smallest.
At the back.
Overlooking a dead garden.

And it smelled—like paper and rot.

The first night, she heard it:

A whisper from the wall.

“Help me…”

She froze. Listened. Silence.

Next night:
“Please… I’m so thirsty.”

She told her parents.

“Pipes,” they said.

But Maddie knew better.

She found a dusty vent near her bed.
Cleaned it.
The whispers grew louder:

“You listen. You’re kind. Help me.”

That weekend, home alone, the voice returned:

“Pull the board loose. Just the corner.”

Hands shaking, she obeyed.

Behind the wallpaper—
A hidden gap.

She crawled inside.

A forgotten room.

And in the center…

A mummy.

Wrapped in linen.
Dried. Ancient.
Slumped in a wooden chair.

A gold amulet on its chest.

Next to it—
A child’s journal:

“The mummy speaks.”
“It says I’m special.”
“It calls me… helper.”

The voice whispered:

“Stay. You are chosen.”

She ran.

Next morning—the wall was sealed.

No vent. No gap. Just wallpaper.

Her parents said she dreamed it.

But then came the gifts:

A gold ring under her pillow.
An ancient coin in her shoe.
A feather made of stone.

She threw them away.

They returned.

Closer to her bed.

Now she hears the voice everywhere:

In the pipes.
In the wind.
In her closet.

“Helper. Friend. Forever.”

Then, under her bed…

She found a second amulet.

Same as the mummy’s.

Only this one—

Already had her name engraved.