The room was dull and dark. No lights were lit. The light that did fill the room came from the moon who's luminous aura filtered through the blinds clothing the windows. There was a dark feeling in the room. It was... Strange. Something wasn't right. A man sat on the couch against the gray wall. He was hunched forward. His fingers hung over his knees. Red. They dripped red. A warm red. Blood.
But it might have been his own blood. He had just puked it everywhere. It was all over him. And his head was throbbing. He was sweating from a fear that was stirring inside him. He felt almost dizzy but remained conscious. He looked onward at the walls around him and the doors he'd nailed and taped shut. He suddenly felt like he might puke again. He did. Blood vomit spilled onto his bare feet.
He stopped. He heard something moving to his left. In his hunched position, he turned his head. The wall was suddenly soaking wet. It looked like water was seeping straight through it, like it was rotting. And soon the water turned an eerie shade of red as something poked through the wall as though it were merely foam.
A long gray hand, gaunt and famished... Its... It's fingers tipped with black claws. It's arm came through, followed by shoulders and a body that seemed distorted and awkwardly constructed as it twisted through and fell onto the floor. With its bony hands on the floor it looked up. The man screamed.
This figure was covered in a black cloak. It had a hood over its head. Its skin was grayish and its face... Its horrible...
The face was focused with two enormous, white, pupil lacking eyes bordered by an oily black grease that radiated from their edges. It had no nose or hair. But the only other visible facial feature was a mouth. A gruesome, ominous mouth.
The mouth was a smile. A smile that reached to the face's edges and was lipless. A crimson liquid, a warm fluid with a coppery smell slipped from its mouth. Scarlet blood dripped down from there to its chin and fell to the ground after that.
There was a strange clicking sound. Or a gurgling, it was hard to tell. But it appeared to come from the entity's pulsating throat. It crawled forward on its hands and knees, the man screaming and getting up before it could slink any further. He backed through the entrance to the kitchen and grabbed the knife he'd prepared on the table. He stormed back into the living room to find it was gone. But the moist mold on the wall still remained. He'd have to board it back up.
He walked around the room, checking behind furniture to see if this creature was hiding anywhere. Nothing. He looked in the other rooms. Nothing. But he dared not go down into the basement, the place the entity had ferociously, relentlessly, and ruthlessly claimed for itself. A dark place. A place he didn't have much light for.
He sat down on the couch again, still shaking from the sight earlier. He sat the knife down on the coffee table in front of him. He then wrote with black pen on paper, "my name is Paul Norman. I am 28 years old. I live in Fayetteville , KY." He had read somewhere that writing those things helps with slowly crawling back to reality, trying to detach from insanity. By this point he believed he had truly gone insane. Partly the reason he refused to leave his house. He didn't want to make a scene in public. What if he saw the creature out there? Would he shout and scream in front of people? He knew only he could see the smiling man...
That was when he felt something touch his butt. It made its way onto his hip. He looked over, gasping and jumping up as he saw a gray hand squeezing from the couch cushions. It slid away quickly upon realization that he'd spotted it. Paul then ran into his bedroom and closed the door.
He looked in his mirror. Enormous bags were under his eyes. He hadn't slept in almost a week. Not since what had been happening when he did fall in slumber. He saw something move in the mirror behind him and then the next thing he knew, he was laying on his bed. The face was staring down at him, looming over him.
It spoke. It had a voice like a million whispers, like the whistle of the wind. Like a billion snakes hissing together. Like a hundred souls all shrieking and shrilling at once.
"Swɇɇt ĐrɇΔms"
It ran its fingers across his eyes, closing them and instantly he fell for it.... He was lost in sleep. It was a rather peaceful sleep, one that gave him a lot of rest. But there was a moment in the night when it was not so subtle. He saw the face of the figure in a dream. He saw it clearly and fearfully. For a moment though Paul was looking through its very eyes, at himself. Then it was back into his own point of view. The figure didn't seem to attack him. But some horrible, indescribable feeling spread in an aura from the creature to him. It was painful. It was head splitting and shot a horrible pain in his head he felt in reality too. Then he felt like he couldn't breathe. Like something was trying to crawl out from inside him. Whatever it was, it wasn't a good feeling. He felt like his lung pipes were clogged, something was happening as he couldn't get the breath from his chest.
Finally his eyes shot open. He gasped for breath and sat up quickly. There was a loud ringing in his ears and his vision was blurry. He had some sort of horrible sensation spreading in his head, like it was about to implode. Far worse than the feeling he'd felt earlier.
It was terrible. It felt like the walls of his skull were about to cave in. Like his eyes might sink back and be swallowed by the rest of his head. He vomited. Red blood poured from his mouth and sweat was soaking the bed. He didn't see the figure anywhere, so he got up. He tried to walk. His head still under the horrible headache or whatever it was that was going on. His vision slowly got better and the ringing in his ears stopped. But that feeling just continued.
"Where are you?!" he screamed out. "I'm done! Just kill me already!" He wondered around the living room, shouting and cursing and occasionally beating on the walls with his fists. Suddenly he heard a knocking on one of the doors he'd nailed shut. There was scratching and a bit of thumping that followed. He went into his room to fetch his hammer to remove the nails. When he had returned, that boards were already removed. He hesitated, feeling something shift in his stomach.
Then he eased forward, drifting out and extending his free hand to the doorknob. It quickly dampened from his sweaty palm. He twisted it and opened it only a few inches before he hurriedly backed away towards the other side of the room.
What was behind the room was pitch black. Paul heard the gurgling sound again. He saw a few gaunt fingers stretch out and grasp the side of the door, pulling it open more. Then he saw the slippery body step forward, this time not crawling but hunched over and touching the ground occasionally with the tips of its fingers.
He threw the hammer at the thing, intending to kill it if he could. There was a shriek that emitted when the hammer hit. The creature backed away to the other side of the room. Its face looks up at him, still smiling. Paul was growing afraid and angry. His heart pounded in his chest as the feeling in his head intensified. It got to the point where he couldn't stand. He fell on his knees, vomiting again. He coughed and hacked, sick saliva spilled from his mouth.
The creature crawled on all fours now, and looked at Paul at eye level. It was now hiding under the coffee table, smiling at him. He groped around the floor for the hammer, not taking his eyes off the creature.
The figure spoke again. "Whisper with me..." it said. Paul was shaking. He watched as the figure simply sat there and a word being engraved in the wall behind it. "WHISPERER" it said clearly, blood dripping out of the engravings as though the house was bleeding after being wounded by the Whisperer's claws which though never touched the wall, still seemed to have been there.
The Whisperer tilted its head, still smiling. Paul was still looking for the hammer. His hand finally found it, his finger tapped the surface.
The creature lunged. It sprang from under the table violently, screeching a dreadful, horrendous shrill. A shriek that made his ears bleed. It tackled him, sinking what might have been fangs into his shoulder. He screams as he kicks the entity away, grasping the hammer once more. He grabbed the figure, bashed it in the head violently. A bit if blood splattered from the back of its hood. But somehow... It didn't die. It gave a screech and backed away, but afterwards it seemed unphased. Paul was trembling. He felt his pants grow moist.
The Whisperer looked back up at him and it flailed forward, screaming like a complete animal. Its claws shot forward, striking Paul in the hip. He slid away, dodging whatever he could. He threw the hammer, striking the Whisperer in the side. It let out a low yowl but continued to crawl forward.
This time the creature sat and simply stared at him. Though it was smiling, there was something angry about it. There was something that resembled pure rage, but its face could only express its scarlet smile which continued to drip with blood. Paul remembered when he fist saw it, he'd thought that it was injured and bleeding from the inside out. But it just kept coming. And it smelled strong, far stronger than normal blood.
Paul made his way across the floor to the coffee table and grabbed the knife from earlier. He screamed, ran forward and tackled the monster. He stuck the knife in its neck, or what looked like it at least. There was hollow gasping from it. Suddenly more arms slung out from all edges of the being and twisted Paul off of it. The knife was now laying in the floor with blood soaking every inch of it.
The creature was moaning, making some strange hoarse breathing before it all stopped. Its neck stretched, its head tilted around, as if to pop its neck. Then it began to slowly peer over its shoulder and simply glare at Paul. It's bloody claws tapped on the ground. He glared at it. Several extra limbs were crawling across its body, stretching and moving. They writhed. Arms seemed to sprout and move into different locations across its body and then disappear again. It stuck its fingers into the carpet, sinking its claws into the floor.
Paul's heart jumped. His head's condition only grew worse as his stomach gurgled. Suddenly a hand shot out from the carpet, blowing a hole in the ground. It grabbed him by the neck, squeezing and relentlessly pulling downwards. Paul tried to resist. He tried. But a ringing sound grew again in his ears, his vision blurred. He began to see things in shades of red and gray. He heard the Whisperer gurgle again and let out a rasp. The hand in the floor just kept choking him. It malevolently pressed the breath out of him. He wanted to scream but it only got tangled in his vocal cords as his throat was clenched. Though he managed to break free. The hand was now gone. A hole in the floor remained.
He looked around the room. His vision had begun to return to normal. The Whisperer was gone. He picked himself up, coughing and sat back down on the couch. He heard a knock on his front door. He knew it may very well be the creature again. So as he approached, he picked up the knife laying on the floor and readied it. He opened the door quickly, shouting and screaming as he held the knife up.
He heard a girlish shrill before him as he halted his attack. He saw a woman his age with long, wavy brown hair standing before him. Her eyes were deep blue and her tan-skinned arms in front of her face as a shield. It was Annie, Paul's girlfriend... Or ex-girlfriend. When she had been convinced that he was sick, something was wrong with him, she left him for her own safety.
"Annie? What are you doing here?" He asked.
"I--I just came to check up on you!" She said fearfully as she fell back against one of the railings along the porch. She was obviously filled with fear at the sight of Paul covered in blood, pale looking, and screaming with a knife in his hands. By now though he'd lowered it to his side. It was lucky enough not many houses were within range to hear his shouts or see his bloody appearance.
"Annie, I'm... I'm so sorry" he said solemnly.
"Paul, you need to get help... What... What have you done?" She screamed at the blood. Her eyes teared up and soon flooded over. Paul only sighed as he tried to step forward. But Annie was already stepping off the porch. With every step he took forward, she stepped back.
"It's the Whisperer, just like I said before!" Paul said. "Annie don't you... Don't you believe me?" He asked desperately. His blood stricken hands fumbled.
"Oh, oh yes Paul. I believe you" she said sorrowfully. Her eyes were dripping, her soft cheeks soaking with tears now. She had lied, but only because she was afraid of what Paul might do if she said no. She was heartbroken. She once loved him... Still loved him, had a difficult time detaching from him.
"Now I'm... I'm going to go now. I'll... I'll see you later Paul... It was nice chatting" she said before she turned back to her car and got inside. But she didn't take off just yet. She had to sit, clear her mind. Meanwhile Paul retreated back into his own house. As he walked back inside he shut the door behind him. Then he felt something push him. He fell on the ground, then he was dragged by the legs by some unseen force. It took a moment for the entity to appear. The cloaked creature dragged him across the ground and finally into the fireplace where its face also sat. The force dragging him was unseen again. Now he simply saw a web of gray arms reaching out for him. They grabbed him and the face of the creature looked at him. Those enormous white eyes seemed to light a fire inside him. The Whisperer creeped forward, the arms vanishing and finally he grabbed Paul by the face.
...
Annie was still crying. Her arms were stretched over the wheel of her car as she sobbed into them. Her skin was soaking with the water from her eyes. It was then she heard a horrendous scream coming from the house in front of her. She looked up quickly. It was Paul's scream. She stretched her neck, to see if she could get any view inside through the windows. But the blinds and curtains were shut.
That was when she had turned her head and screamed at the sight of something staring at her through the passenger side window... A gray face. A gray face with white eyes and an enormous grin of blood. Its face was covered in blood, an excessive amount of blood. And its black cloak and hood were soaking with the deep scarlet as well.
Annie immediately backed out of the driveway and drove away...
