Whispers in the Dark

After my parents divorced when I was a teenager, I lived with my mom in a small, old apartment. That’s when the strange occurrences started—subtle at first, like something testing the boundaries of its presence.

It always began the same way. I’d be lying in bed at night, reading a book, when the air would shift—becoming dense, heavy, and icy cold. The sensation was suffocating, like invisible eyes pressing down on me, hating me with an intensity I can’t explain.

Whenever that feeling hit, I’d leave the room, unable to stay any longer. I’d pace the apartment, trying to shake the feeling, only returning when the air felt... normal again. But sometimes, even during the day, I’d catch fleeting shadows slithering across my bedroom walls—quick, deliberate movements that vanished the moment I turned my head.

But it got worse when it started pretending to be my dog.

One night, I came into my room, expecting my dog to follow as usual. Instead, I heard a deep, guttural growl from under my bed—a sound far too low and menacing for my small dog to make. It was something primal, almost human, as if someone was trying to mimic a dog but couldn’t quite get it right.

My heart pounded, and I bolted from the room, calling for my dog. He was trembling in the hallway, his tail tucked, ears flattened—refusing to come anywhere near my bedroom.

After that, my dog started acting strange—whimpering and pacing near the doorway to my room but never crossing the threshold, no matter how much I coaxed him. He’d just stare into the room, wide-eyed and tense, like he could see something I couldn’t.

The worst part? The hallway itself felt... wrong. Darker than it should’ve been, even when the lights were on. I avoided it at night, practically running past it when I needed to get to the bathroom or kitchen.

I endured months of this creeping dread until I moved in with my dad. From the very first night at his place, the air felt lighter—normal. No icy chills. No sinister stares. No twisted, dog-like growls.

Whatever it was... it stayed behind.

But sometimes, late at night, when the house is quiet and the lights are low... I still hear a faint scratching at my bedroom door. And for just a moment... the air feels cold again.