The Whisper
I need to get this off my chest, because the police won't listen to me and my little brother hasn't spoken a single word since last Tuesday. I don't care if people think I'm making this up for internet clout. I just need someone out there to know the truth about what happened to my dad. It started a little over a week ago. My six-year-old brother, Timmy, was sitting on the living room rug, completely zoned out watching one of those colorful "toys and colors" YouTube videos on his tablet. The house was totally quiet except for the upbeat music from the screen. Suddenly, Timmy jumped, dropping his tablet onto the floor. He gripped his left ear, his eyes wide with a kind of fear I’ve never seen on a kid before. When I asked him what was wrong, he whispered that someone had just breathed right against his ear. He swore a tiny, chilling voice had hissed: "Your dad will die by God in 7 days." I tried to tell him it was just a glitch in the video or his imagination, but the next afternoon, it happened again. Timmy was playing in his room when he suddenly burst into the kitchen, crying hysterically. He grabbed my arm and said the voice returned, right in his ear, saying: "Your dad will die by God in 6 days." Every single day, the voice counted down. By day three, my dad was getting furious, thinking I was pulling a sick prank on my little brother. But I wasn't. Timmy was absolutely terrified, losing sleep, just staring at the corners of the ceiling. Then came last Tuesday night. I woke up around 2:00 AM to a sudden chill in the air. From across the hallway, in the direction of my dad’s room, I heard it—the faint, rhythmic creaking of a floorboard. It sounded like heavy, completely silent footsteps stepping slowly across the hardwood. I froze under my blankets, my heart hammering against my ribs. For ten agonizing minutes, I lay there, paralyzed, building up every ounce of courage I had to finally stand up and check the hallway. The door to my dad's room was wide open. I flipped the light switch, and the breath completely left my lungs. My dad was pinned high up against the bedroom wall, his body utterly destroyed. Someone had inflicted exactly 50 precise stab wounds all over him, with the final, silver-hilted knife left driven directly into the center of his heart. But the most horrifying part was nailed to the wall right next to him. It was a jagged piece of notebook paper, with rough, erratic handwriting that looked almost forced. It read: "This is from God. I told you they were going to die." The police are treating it like a standard home invasion, but they're wrong. I know it wasn't God. I know what I heard in those walls after the sirens left. If you ever hear a tiny, quiet countdown in your ear while you're sitting alone in your house... don't wait for it to reach zero.