Kemi had always hated the family’s village house. The creaky floors, the drafts that whispered through the cracks in the walls, and the dark corners that seemed to shift when she was not looking. But tonight, the house felt different. It felt as if it had been waiting.
She was alone. Her brother had gone to a friend’s house, and her parents had left hours ago. She was supposed to be studying, yet the silence pressed around her in a way she had never known, heavy and watchful, almost as if it were listening.
The first noise broke it. A low, deliberate thud from the hallway. Not the random sound of old timber settling, but a weight hitting the floor with intention. Kemi froze, her pen held still against the page. She listened, breath tight in her throat, but the house slipped back into stillness. It was the kind of stillness that felt staged, as if something were holding its breath.
Then came another noise. A faint dragging sound, soft at first, as though something was brushing against the floorboards. It grew a little louder, a little closer, a steady scrape that did not match any sound she knew.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs. She stood, her chair skidding across the floor. The noise stopped the moment she moved, as if it had been waiting for her reaction. She called out, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady, asking if anyone was there.
Nothing answered.
She swallowed hard and reached for her phone, thumbs shaking as she tried to text her brother. The message refused to send. She raised the phone higher, searching for a bar of signal, but the screen stayed stubbornly empty. A cold prickle crept across her skin. The lights flickered overhead, dimming in a way that seemed deliberate rather than faulty. The room cooled, enough for her breath to shiver in the air.
Another sound rose, quicker this time. A tapping. No rhythm, no pattern. It moved along the hallway wall, faint but purposeful, like fingers searching for a door.
Her instincts told her to stay put, but her feet betrayed her. They carried her toward the hallway with slow, unwilling steps. She muttered under her breath, urging herself to stop, but her curiosity dragged her forward. Each step into the dim passage felt like stepping underwater, heavy and slow, the atmosphere thick enough to resist her.
The hallway stretched ahead of her, narrower than she remembered, shadows pooling in the corners. At first glance, it looked empty, but the longer she stared, the more the darkness seemed to shift. The ceiling creaked softly, then fell silent again, almost as if something above her had paused mid-step.
Her eyes adjusted, and the faint outlines sharpened. That was when she saw it.
A figure stood at the far end of the hall. Tall. Unmoving. Its silhouette was wrong in a way she could not name, with shoulders that sloped too low and limbs that seemed a fraction too long for its frame. It did not sway. It did not breathe. It simply existed, a shape that the house had coughed up from its darkest corner.
Its shadow stretched towards her as though reaching, longer and darker than any sensible light could create. It crept along the floor, inching closer with a slow patience that tightened her throat.
Kemi stepped forward without meaning to, her breath hitching as the air around her held fast and expectant.
The figure turned its head. The movement was slow and smooth, not quite human. Two faint points of light glowed where its eyes should have been, not bright, only enough to be seen. Enough to be felt.
And then, in a voice that drifted from the darkness like a secret she was never meant to hear, it spoke.
“She’s finally alone.”