Chapter 1: The Silence That Wasn't Silent
The rain hadn't stopped in three days.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlrYoBd926J
Outside, the sky hung like a soaked shroud over the town of Elmbrook, dark clouds knotted with secrets. The streets, slick with rain and silence, led Aryan Varma to the threshold of Oakmoor Boarding House—a place whose name was now barely legible on the rusting iron plaque near the gate. He pulled his coat tighter around himself as thunder grumbled somewhere above, like a beast disturbed in its slumber.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcTsYVBxXu2
A heavy knock. A moment’s hesitation. The door creaked open on its own.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIataPHxG12
Standing inside was an old man with silver hair slicked back, wearing a grey woolen vest and a face that might've once known joy but had long forgotten the taste of it. His name, Aryan would later learn, was Devlin. But for now, he simply stared, then slowly extended a hand with a brass key dangling from it—an ancient thing, oddly heavy, with the number 11B etched deep into its worn surface.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbvBawJhb6O
"Welcome, Mr. Varma," he said, his voice dry like dust. "You may find things here... quieter than you're used to."
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuUfe4CTbds
Aryan nodded. He didn't want conversation. Not after what he'd left behind in Mumbai. Not after the breakdown. He wanted obscurity, cold walls, and time to lose himself in something else.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoykPcFAbmR
Anything else.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdDwCSguw2J
The hallway was dim. Wall sconces flickered as if reacting to his breath. Floorboards groaned under the weight of forgotten years. As he walked, Aryan noticed closed doors on either side—some marked with names, others just numbers. But at the very end of the hall, past a faded painting of a lake and a woman whose eyes were scratched out, there stood one door with no number. Its wood was darker, almost scorched, and it had a handle that seemed to shimmer faintly even in the low light.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk227G6RFcq
He looked back. Devlin was watching him.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC3vT4WV9Cy
"That one’s sealed," the old man said. "Was sealed long before your time. Don’t disturb what sleeps behind it."
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY6ooRs9LDN
Aryan gave a polite nod, turned the key in the lock of 11B, and entered.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ2nHGQJz9R
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡukiLEsE37y
---
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoS5Qzf8dMp
His room was sparse. A wooden bed, a desk with a rusted lamp, a wardrobe, and a small window that framed only the skeletal branches of a dying oak tree. The wallpaper peeled in places like skin revealing old scars. Yet, oddly, there was a comfort in the age of it all. He unpacked slowly—books, journals, and the one photograph he still allowed himself to keep: his sister, Anika, smiling in the sun before the fire.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6sD6RXTZ1W
That night, Aryan sat at the desk and tried to write. But the words came fractured. Disjointed.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDguaVkbk7b
Somewhere in the boarding house, a floorboard creaked.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPWj0hmh4y1
Then again. Closer.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnLwohjbUJg
He paused. Listened.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb53smV6NB7
Silence.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd4MUXX9xSl
Then, just as he bent to reach for his pen, a knock—faint but undeniable—echoed through the room. Not from the door. From the wall behind his bed.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ9rI7W2yMF
He stood up. Pressed his ear to the plaster. Nothing.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWFCDZE5g2G
But the moment he lay down again, it came once more. Three soft knocks. Then... a whisper.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJy4H5jgC4n
His name.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwmbGnW1ACB
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmUx1PkSaOo
---
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsZXAHWfzYW
The next morning, the rain had faded to a drizzle. Aryan approached Devlin at the front desk. The old man was reading a yellowed newspaper from 1976.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeUL2mMUUIa
"Do you rent the room next to mine?"
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHhzke56zGj
Devlin didn’t look up. "Room 11A has been locked since 1983."
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj2TZchbqUi
Aryan frowned. "I heard something. Last night."
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvD499amEwq
Devlin folded the newspaper with precise care. "You’re not the first to say that. But you will be the last, if you’re wise."
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ94XSRlEnY8
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡONX76bEeNH
---
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMGibTZyOWG
The days that followed were colder. Aryan began to notice things.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDqBUXzA1Q6
Photographs in the hallway where the faces had been scratched out with nails, not age. A woman’s humming that started in the vents and ended somewhere beneath the floor. Lights that flickered only when he passed by. And that sealed door at the end of the hallway? Sometimes, it seemed... less closed.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM6LnwKqwku
On the fourth night, the knocking returned—this time from inside the wardrobe.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjJi3cnD4No
He opened it.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3Hv3XlJKER
Empty.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk9CekZhZol
But on the floor, barely visible beneath the corner of the wardrobe wall, was a slip of paper. He pulled it out with trembling fingers.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsiOEYE58SW
"She waits in the quiet. Do not open the door."
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡALjnN4eHnQ
The handwriting was uneven, desperate. But the ink—still wet.
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiOZIeN0PFI
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFF56MYtUGc
---
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdSOexfvmb4
To be continued in Chapter 2...
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBzXZ3rLwS5
154Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmKPQLzcoSv
→ Request update
and then Add to home screen.