I woke up to the sound of scratching coming from the closet. Heart pounding, I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and focus on the source of the noise. It was pitch-black in my room, the only light a sliver of moon filtering through the curtains. My breath caught in my throat as the scratching grew louder, more insistent.
“Must be a rat or something,” I reassured myself, though my voice wavered with uncertainty. I’d heard stories about rodents finding their way into homes before, but this sound seemed different somehow. More deliberate.
I summoned the courage to swing my legs out of bed and tiptoed across the room. The floorboards creaked beneath my weight, and I froze, waiting to see if the noise would continue. It did. Louder now, almost like something was trying to claw its way out.
My heart raced as I approached the closet. The scratches were unmistakable, echoing with an eerie rhythm. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob. What if it wasn’t a rat? What if it was something else entirely? A shiver ran down my spine as I envisioned all sorts of terrifying possibilities.
Summoning my resolve, I flung the closet door open. My breath caught in my throat as the scratching abruptly stopped. I strained my eyes in the darkness, but I couldn’t see anything unusual. Just the jumble of coats, shoes, and old boxes.
I let out a nervous laugh, berating myself for getting worked up over nothing. Maybe I was just imagining things in my half-asleep state. I turned to head back to bed when a chill swept through the room, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.
Then, from the depths of the closet, I heard a soft whisper. “Help me.”
My heart thundered in my chest as I stumbled backward, my mind racing. I couldn’t have heard what I just heard. It must have been my imagination. But then the whisper came again, more urgent this time. “Please, help me.”
Terror seized me, freezing me in place. I didn’t know what to do. My instincts screamed at me to run, to flee from whatever was lurking in the closet. But another part of me felt a pang of sympathy, a desire to help whoever—or whatever—was trapped inside.
Gathering my courage, I took a hesitant step forward. “Who’s there?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
The closet seemed to exhale, the air growing colder around me. The whisper came once more, this time accompanied by a faint sob. “I’m trapped… help me get out.”
Swallowing hard, I reached for the closet light and flicked it on. The sudden brightness illuminated the space, revealing a figure huddled in the corner. A girl, pale and ghostly, with hollow eyes that seemed to hold a universe of sorrow.
I gasped, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over my own feet. “What… who are you?”
The girl’s gaze locked onto mine, and I felt a pang of empathy deep within me. “I’ve been trapped here for so long,” she whispered, her voice like a fragile melody. “Please, you’re the only one who can set me free.”
As much as fear coursed through me, a sense of responsibility tugged at my heart. With trembling hands, I approached the closet once more. The girl’s form flickered, like a wisp of smoke, as I extended my hand. And then, in a rush of cold air, she vanished.
The scratching, the whispers, all of it ceased. The closet was empty, its eerie presence lifted. I stood there for a moment, catching my breath, wondering if I had just experienced a waking nightmare.
But deep down, I knew it was real. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just crossed paths with something beyond our world—something that had been desperately reaching out for help from the other side.