The house had been whispering to us for weeks—light scratching, gentle rustling, and tiny, inexplicable thrills inside the walls. It began softly, like the sound of a wandering mouse or rusty pipes. However, the sounds continued coming back, always in the early hours before dawn, and always in the same location.
Initially, my spouse and I would joke around about “the ghosts of previous homeowners.” However, the longer it continued, the harder it was to ignore. The sounds were too intentional, too real.
We were both startled awake one morning by the sound’s sharpness and persistence. It wasn’t pipes. It wasn’t wood for settling. Something was moving from inside the wall of the guest bedroom, pushing, scraping.
At that point, worry became uneasiness.
