Whispers on the Coral Row

Day Two: First weekend on the Coral Row

As the first light of dawn crept through the windows, we gathered to tidy up and organise our belongings. The weekend offered a rare chance to restore order to our cluttered home.

But as Mom went to answer the insistent doorbell and the kitchen phone shrilled its urgent cry, a chill descended upon me.

As I wondered who could be calling so early, my heart raced with anticipation.

While Tim and Josh worked in the dimly lit hall, their cheerful banter masking the encroaching darkness, I couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lurked just beyond our sight, waiting to reveal itself.

As I picked up the phone, I said, "Hello?" But there was no response; an eerie silence hung in the air. "Anyone there?" I tried again, my voice echoing through the silence.

Then, I heard hurried footsteps approaching me; their sudden stop behind me caused a jolt of unease. I instinctively thought it must be Tim, grabbing the bags and rushing away.

That's when I heard a faint voice whisper: "243#" over and over. I hung up the phone, feeling perplexed.

"Was it just a prank, or could someone have intended it as a message for the previous owners?" The question lingered in my mind as I tried to make sense of the strange whispering I had just heard.

Outside, Mom's voice drifted in from the porch, mingling with the chatter of visitors. As I approached, I found a couple at the door.

"Ah, you must be Anne," the woman said warmly, extending her hand. She introduced herself as Selvia and her husband as Peter.

"We're your new neighbours," Selvia explained with a smile.

Selvia had wavy red hair neatly tied in a bun, and Peter looked like a gentleman.

"Would you like some tea?" Mom offered warmly, gesturing towards the kitchen.

"No, thank you," Selvia replied with a smile. "We just popped by to say hello."

"Ah, got it." Mom nodded understandingly. "Well, it's lovely to meet you both."

After they left, Mom handed me a card from them, inviting us to their son's birthday party later that evening at 6. "Looks like we've got plans tonight," Mom said with a smile.

"Yeah, that sounds fun," I replied, glancing at the invitation.

With our chores nearly done by 5 o'clock, Josh and I headed to the porch.

"Josh, Tim's calling you," I informed him, and he hurried off, leaving me to handle the remaining bags alone.

After tidying up, Mom came and handed me a bag of old garments, her eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity as she ordered me to store them in the attic.

I hesitated when I saw the worn and tattered clothes, feeling a sense of unease prickling at the back of my neck. I didn't recognise them. But Mom's insistence left me with no choice but to comply.

My discomfort kept amplifying as I reluctantly carried the bag to the attic.

The attic nestled snugly between Tim and my room. With the sack of old clothes in hand, I ascended the attic stairs, pulling them down from above. Each step creaked beneath my weight as I cautiously advanced.

As I reached the top, I carefully pushed the sack forward. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass from above startled me.

Frozen in place, I strained to listen, hoping for nothing more than the ordinary silence of the attic. But instead, whispers emerged from the darkness, chilling me to the bone.

As the whispers drew nearer, mingling with the foul odour of the attic, my heart pounded in my chest. I strained to discern their words, but they grew louder and more menacing. With a sense of dread creeping over me, I decided to retreat. With my heart pounding in my chest, I hastily retreated, skipping steps in panic.

Slamming the attic door shut behind me, I stumbled backward, only to find Josh standing at the foot of the stairs, his gaze fixed on me.

"What the heck, Josh!?" I blurted out. My heart was still racing from the fright.

"You scared me half to death! Freak!" I felt a mix of emotions. I felt relief wash over me as I realised it was only my brother, but mixed with that relief was anger at his unannounced presence, and I felt embarrassed at being caught in such a state of fear.

"You weren't supposed to be up there, Anne. Do you remember what the previous owner said? We're not supposed to go up until he clears his things," Josh warned, his tone stern.

"Mom sent me, Josh. She told me to put those old clothes in the attic," I countered, feeling defensive. He remained unconvinced. "Fine, feel free to ask Mom. I'm not lying," I insisted.

Josh helped me to my feet in silence before wordlessly leaving the room.